Tom Ford
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Filmography
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Connections, in both directions
Deliverance (1972)
Directed by John Boorman
influenced Nocturnal Animals (2016)
Plot Characters Themes
Which is interesting, because his novel is such a hokey, basic cable-ready Deliverance plot that you almost wonder if it’s meant as a commentary on her terrible taste (poor Michael Shannon plays a great character trapped inside this meta-turd).
And in the pages of the book, she imagines Edward as its antagonist, Tony Hastings, a man whose equally red-headed wife (Isla Fisher) and daughter (Ellie Bamber) are taken from him in a road confrontation with West Texas deplorables straight out of “Breakdown” or “Deliverance.”
In a sequence that combines the horrors of Duel (1971) and Deliverance (1972), Tony and his family are victimized on the isolated rural highway by a car of leering rednecks—Ray (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), Lou (Karl Glusman), and Turk (Robert Aramayo)—who eventually cause their cars to bump into each other and force Tony off the road.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson lends a couple of new shadings to Deliverance menace.
The storytelling is both more refined and more brutishly personal, and the film strikes a balance between inscrutability and accessibility, between Lynch-ian art horror and Deliverance-like exploitation.
He and his wife (Isla Fisher) and daughter (Ellie Bamber) are driving in the scrubs of West Texas when a group of hillbillies, led by a psycho named Ray (Aaron Taylor-Johnson, playing the role as if someone told him about “Deliverance” but he never actually saw the movie), force them off the road.
The granddaddy of them all is “Blue Velvet,” the great postmodern Hitchcockian noir that turned pulp sensation into a surrealist high.
Clearly borrowing from Dennis Hopper’s performance as Frank Booth in Lynch’s Blue Velvet , Taylor-Johnson nevertheless crafts one of the year’s most frightening villains.
The whole sequence plays like one of those superior yuppie-in-peril movies from the early 1980s, Jonathan Demme’s Something Wild, say, or David Lynch’s Blue Velvet .
Try to imagine what it must have been like for Alma Reville to watch Alfred Hitchcock’s creepy obsessions play out in Vertigo and you might have some idea of what’s in store for you in Nocturnal Animals.
At times it has the desperate power of “Vertigo”; in moments it echoes David Lynch.
In a sequence that combines the horrors of Duel (1971) and Deliverance (1972), Tony and his family are victimized on the isolated rural highway by a car of leering rednecks—Ray (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), Lou (Karl Glusman), and Turk (Robert Aramayo)—who eventually cause their cars to bump into each other and force Tony off the road.
Charles discovers his first recruit right in the lab when he and Raven meet scientist Hank McCoy (Nicholas Hoult, "A Single Man"), a brilliant kid with feet that look more like an ape's hands and whose obsession with hiding his mutancy makes for a romantic bond for Raven.
At times the score is reminiscent of something out of a Hitchcock movie; at other times it reminded me of “Basic Instinct” and other such trash.
Some close-ups have a megawatt gleam redolent of Douglas Sirk circa Magnificent Obsession (1954).
This melodramatic yet nihilistic thriller unfolds in two distinct yet connected locations and mindsets, like a collision between Douglas Sirk’s Written on the Wind and David Lynch’s Lost Highway.
The whole sequence plays like one of those superior yuppie-in-peril movies from the early 1980s, Jonathan Demme’s Something Wild, say, or David Lynch’s Blue Velvet .
Equivalent to the intimate sweep and subtly rattling emotional power of Michelangelo Antonioni's towering "L'Avventura," "Nocturnal Animals" is bold and breathtaking, a profound human tragedy with a devil's wink.
Without giving it away, an incident that begins on an open highway in the middle of the night evokes the same everyday terror as Michael Haneke's Funny Games.
Anyone whose idea of a screen marriage is the one between William Powell and Myrna Loy, in “The Thin Man,” should stay clear.
A nice, polite, middle-class man goes after the homicidal goons who brutalized his wife and daughter — the plot of the 1974 Charles Bronson film “Death Wish,” and a thousand revenge thrillers just like it.
Frankly, based on the evidence of what we see, Edward’s book comes across as a dreadful exercise in faux-pulp fiction—imagine a hybrid of “Manos: The Hands of Fate” and a lesser “Death Wish” movie penned by someone trying (and largely failing) to be the next Cormac McCarthy—but it apparently shakes Susan to her very core, to the point where she literally drops it after every scary part and rushes off to take a cleansing bath.
Given its cunning execution, many may wrongfully assume that the perpetrator of such thorough yet spiteful malice would be a heartbroken woman a la Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction or Amy Dunne in Gone Girl.
It’s a home that radiates warmth, and not just because Gerwig borrows a trick from Tom Ford’s A Single Man , flooding the frame with lush, saturated glow at moments of joy.
…buried ★★★★ out of 4 stars Cinematographer Eduard Grau, who also shot Tom Ford's ravishing "A Single Man," films the proceedings with sinister elegance.
But back to my point: that at any given juncture, Paul's terror is a different flavor of panicked, which Cortés visualises in a number of different ways, aided by the extremely valuable talents of Eduard Grau, the young cinematographer whose only other prominent work has been last year's grimly over-conceived A Single Man .
Cortés and cinematographer Eduard Grau ("A Single Man"), the heavy lifter here, use all kinds of tricks.
Lit by way of a Zippo, a cellular phone, a flashlight and a flare, cinematographer Eduard Grau (2009's " A Single Man ") impresses in the amount of different camera setups he is able to achieve, as well as in the different shades of color that punctuate the image depending on what Paul is using for light at any given moment.
Cinematographer Eduard Grau, whose previous work includes the sumptuous A Single Man (2009) does an amazing job making this film visually engaging.
Yet cinematographer Eduard Grau ( A Single Man ) constantly innovates with his angles and framing, making exceptional use of diegetic light sources such as a flickering flame and a mobile’s screen glow.
Writer-director Tom Ford delivers a tiresomely weird drama that’s pitched somewhere between the cinematic realms of directors David Lynch (“Mulholland Drive”) and David Cronenberg (“A History of Violence”).
It fits somewhere between Mulholland Drive and In Cold Blood, but is entirely its own thing.
He gets committed work from his cast; even if Adams is arguably miscast in a coldhearted role (yes, she can do anything, but that doesn’t mean she should have to), Gyllenhaal expertly toggles between “Straw Dogs” meekness and madness, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson is the sexiest black hole of irredeemable evil in many a moon.
It's an interesting story, and it's very prettily told, but Ford doesn't seem to get inside the grisly, Straw Dogs -like themes of the story-within-the-story, nor does he seem to make a connection overall.
This melodramatic yet nihilistic thriller unfolds in two distinct yet connected locations and mindsets, like a collision between Douglas Sirk’s Written on the Wind and David Lynch’s Lost Highway.
Had she picked up “Pride and Prejudice” instead, she would have found herself strangely compelled to dance the cotillion with a snooty man in breeches.