NEW YORK (AP) 鈥� The movies are good at resurrecting the past and imagining the future, but pinning down the present can be tricky. Movies take a long time to make. Once you鈥檝e gone from idea to script to production to edit and, finally, to audiences, several years might have passed.
Take 鈥淐ivil War,鈥� Alex Garland鈥檚 seemingly that over last weekend. Garland wrote it in 2020 as the pandemic was unfolding and a presidential election was approaching. 鈥淐ivil War鈥� arrived in theaters four years later, loaded with the anxieties of societal breakdown and concern for the endgame to our current political extremism.
But it also very consciously stepped away from the bitter partisanship of today. 鈥淐ivil War鈥� sparked a lot of discussion by pairing California and Texas together in battle, but that鈥檚 far from the only gesture Garland made to avoid channeling the current, highly charged fissures of American society.
The movie, perhaps out of fear of being too contemporary, is set in a near-future dystopia. Scant mention is made of race, income inequality or climate change. It has connective tissue with many current issues, particularly the plight of journalists. But it鈥檚 telling that even a provocative movie that imagines America in all-out warfare is timid about today.
Yet even if 鈥淐ivil War鈥� was bracingly current, would that have been appropriate in an election year? More importantly, would we even want to see it?
With many exceptions, the movie year in multiplexes can seem forever toggling between the period dramas of Oscar season and the sequels of summer, a seemingly willful dance to forever avoid the here and now. To a large degree, Hollywood runs on intellectual property, which, by its definition, is old. That didn鈥檛 stop from being highly relevant 64 years after the doll鈥檚 creation, or a 70-year-old Godzilla from , or 62-year-old Spider-Man proving surprisingly adept at
But finding movies free of decades-old baggage or loads of CGI that masks the real world can take some effort. That dearth has made a pair of spring releases 鈥� Radu Jude鈥檚 and Bertrand Bonello鈥檚 鈥� all the more thrilling for their eagerness to confront our present reality.
鈥淒o Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World,鈥� the latest from the 47-year-old Romanian writer and director Jude, begins with an iPhone alarm clock going off. On the disheveled nightstand of Angela R膬ducanu (Ilinca Manolache) is a wine glass, paperback Proust and a clock with no hands, beneath which it reads 鈥淚t鈥檚 later than you think.鈥�
Angela鈥檚 life is a discombobulated swirl of GPS-navigated traffic, boorish men and work errands. Everything from the war in Ukraine to gun violence to Pornhub is filtered into her daily experience while she drives to appointments to make workplace-safety videos for a production company.
Angela occasionally boils over, though she mostly vents through TikTok, spouting misogynist incel rants with a filter that cloaks her identity. The persona is modeled after with human trafficking, rape and forming a criminal gang to sexually exploit women. He鈥檚 denied the allegations.
Interspersed with Angela鈥檚 story are excerpts from Lucian Bratu鈥檚 1981 film 鈥淎ngela Goes On.鈥� That Angela (played by Dorina Laz膬r) spends her days driving, too, as a taxi driver, and the juxtaposition between the two Angelas invites a comparison between that era and now. Today, filming in a harsh monochrome, doesn鈥檛 come off looking so good 鈥� even next to the communist Romania of the 1981 film.
Bonello鈥檚 鈥淭he Beast,鈥� which expands this Friday in theaters, also uses separate timelines to illuminate present reality while pondering if we aren鈥檛 just doomed to repeat the past.
The movie, inspired by the Henry James novella 鈥淭he Beast in the Jungle,鈥� follows two lovers 鈥� Gabrielle (L茅a Seydoux) and Louis (George MacKay) 鈥攖hrough three time periods: 1910 Paris, 2014 Los Angeles and 2044 Paris.
In the first chapter, Gabrielle and Louis are brought together 鈥� not for the first time, Louis reminds her 鈥� in belle 茅poque Paris just before the Great Flood of 1910. Their connection is palpable but the encounter ends in tragedy, in an underwater sequence of haunting power in the doll factory of Gabrielle's husband.
The switch, then, from costume drama to more-or-less contemporary Los Angeles is jarring. But our characters are still some distant versions of their prior selves. Gabrielle, previously a pianist, is now an actor. Louis is a misogynistic vlogger whose incel delusions 鈥� along with some strange force drawing them back together 鈥� bring him again into Gabrielle鈥檚 orbit.
The echoes of their past lives are even more acute in 2044, by which time artificial intelligence has spread into all corners of life and Gabrielle is considering undergoing a procedure to 鈥減urify鈥� her DNA. She鈥檚 told she won鈥檛 lose her emotions but will feel more 鈥渟erenely.鈥� The bookends of past and present in 鈥淭he Beast鈥� put dehumanization 鈥� from doll-making to A.I. 鈥� in disquieting context.
It鈥檚 not a coincidence that both 鈥淭he Beast鈥� and 鈥淒o Not Expect Too Much From the End of the Earth鈥� wrestle with incel culture. To do so may be a necessary ingredient for making sense of our present reality. a scuzzy, vital picaresque from last year, glibly but perceptively surveyed a ridiculous America of worlds-apart subcultures, conspiracy-addled shooters and bookish white supremacists. With a cast including Simon Rex, Jeremy O. Harris, Ayo Edebiri and Jacob Elordi, but a central heroine in Lillian (Talia Ryder), 鈥淭he Sweet East鈥� played like an 鈥淎lice in Wonderland鈥� for now 鈥� an absurd odyssey for absurd times.
None of these films 鈥� 鈥淭he Beast,鈥� 鈥淒o Not Expect Too Much From the End of the Earth,鈥� 鈥淭he Sweet East鈥� 鈥� are perfect, or even trying to be. But, unlike 鈥淐ivil War,鈥� they aren鈥檛 dodging anything. The present may be messy and muddled but these films, in very distinct and outlandish ways, are at least trying to pin it down.
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Jake Coyle, The Associated Press
