Neptune Frost was reviewed out of the Sundance Film Festival.
While it makes for a worthy new chapter in the language of Afrofuturism — the artistic philosophy that influenced Marvel’s Black Panther — Neptune Frost struggles to be greater than the sum of its parts. A science-fiction musical with scrappy, eye-popping designs, the U.S.-Rwandan production is filled with catchy numbers and fascinating ideas, both surrounding the literal and the ethereal. However, while its individual strengths are marvelously inventive, they rarely coalesce into something resembling its characters’ full-throated calls to liberation. It’s the rare modern genre piece whose aesthetics feel genuinely subversive and rebellious, but their impact is often dulled by the extended gaps between the film’s few revolutionary moments.
Co-directed by Rwandan-born playwright Anisia Uzeyman and American poet Saul Williams, the movie was conceived by the latter as a graphic novel and a stage play before making its way to the screen. The story of two characters whose paths collide in a realm between dimensions — a safe haven, of sorts, for those escaping persecution — it features moments that speak loudly and proudly to themes of queerness, anti-colonialism, and spiritual rebirth. The first major character names themselves Neptune, and their escape is rooted in society’s rejection of their gender identity, which is expressed, at first, through touching moments of self-discovery. Their metaphorical rebirth is marked by a transition between the two different actors playing them (Elvis Ngabo and Cheryl Isheja), who each present as a different gender, but feel part of the same physical and emotional continuum, as Neptune begins to slowly but surely break free from rigid codes of behavior and attire. Both Ngabo and Isheja bring a wonderfully considered quietness to the role, which eventually evolves into something powerful and mysterious.
The second lead character is Matalusa (Kaya Free), an exploited miner who experiences a devastating personal loss, but is forced by both his bosses and the colonial remnants of European churches to swiftly accept his grief and move on. A man whose labor involves the mining of coltan — a dull ore used to make hard drives and other computer parts — Matalusa’s fleeing from his oppressive surroundings speaks directly to the film’s revolutionary themes, and is accompanied by chants and protest slogans that seem to bind each of the characters (in every dimension). However, the moments that match the visual energy of his violent escape are few and far between.
In the meantime, Neptune Frost does feature some unique musical detours composed of soft, poetic whispers, which keeps things intriguing. However, the catchiest and most effective numbers (in a mix of French, English, Kinyarwanda, Kirundi, and Swahili) are bunched largely in its middle section, from raps about technology and social media to ballads about escaping the vicious hand of western industry, which forces miners and other workers into a modern form of colonialism.
That so much of their exploitation surrounds technology leads to fantastically conceived costumes (by Cedric Mizero) and production design (by Mizero and Antoine Nshimiyimana), a blend of leftover computer parts and traditional East African garb and accessories. The in-between dimension, where Neptune and Matalusa eventually meet, is populated by hackers and rudimentary cyborgs. Their cobbled-together appearance reads like an attempt to weaponize and re-fashion the very emblems of western capitalism that continue to oppress them.
The lines between technology and tribal emblems blur even further when the screen itself morphs and glitches, and its static takes the shape of centuries-old traditional designs. In these moments, the film feels volatile, as if it were about to explode into something completely and powerfully abstract, though it very often returns to a feeling of literal-ness, and grounded-ness, despite its retro-futuristic appearance. It rarely escapes the documentarian feel with which it opens; it seldom takes on the form of something ahead of its time, or something belonging to a new realm of media, even though its designs and concepts (and even its aforementioned glitches) all imbue it with the potential to do so. Its aesthetics always feel on the verge of something truly transformative; it’s a weird movie that could have, and should have, been weirder!
Its sci-fi hallmarks are intriguingly and amusingly matter of fact — cellphones, in this strange dimension, are embedded in what appear to be crystals mined by exploited labor, drawing a direct connection between our technology and where it comes from — but these are largely front-loaded in the story. The approach rarely evolves, thematically or visually, and the designs aren’t often complemented by new ideas that help transform or further contextualize them. It can’t help but feel as if the story is at a standstill whenever a musical number isn’t the central focus.
However, there is also an admirable simplicity to Neptune Frost, despite its complex thematic musings. The bits that work, and land with the most emotional impact, are the ones focused on Neptune, because the camera so clearly loves them, even in their worst and most vulnerable moments. In addition, the authorities from whom Neptune and Matalusa escape have simple designs that are shockingly effective. The only thing out of the ordinary about the local police — who otherwise dress in familiar shirts and trousers — is the flimsy masks they wear, behind which their faces are technically visible, but are obscured just enough to turn them into an intimidating, inhuman force.
Characters react to the film’s bizarre, electronic soundscape as if it holds cultural memory, and Williams’ music often plays like a survival mechanism — an escape from surrounding horrors. However, the attempts to weave these sonic concepts into something rousing and non-traditional are eventually hampered by a plot that takes distinctly, disappointingly literal form (despite the razzmatazz in every frame). It’s a unique movie with images you’ve never seen before, but it comes frustratingly close to escaping the stratosphere and truly soaring.
from IGN Reviews https://ift.tt/3KNOxzn
This could be a real lead forward for personal gaming... Revolutionise gaming
No comments:
Post a Comment