I was bored the other day, so i thought i’d go see a film. The problem, my dear readers, is that i
have this terribly unlucky habit: 70% of the time, when i go see a film at the cinema, it’s not very
good — and i can confirm that Don’t Worry Darling is, indeed, not very good.
If you’ve heard anything about Don’t Worry Darling, it’ll be about the juicy, juicy
behind-the-scenes drama, involving saucy affairs between director Olivia Wilde and the film’s
leading male star, an exasperated Chris Pine, and Shia LaBeouf. But we’re not going to be talking
about any of that — instead, we’ll be talking about the topic everyone is desperately avoiding: the
movie itself. Oh dear.
The film boils down to a thin Truman Show pastiche following a troubled couple in an
idyllic American suburb, wherein a 1950s housewife, imaginatively named Alice Warren, questions what
her controlling husband, the inexplicably British Jack Chambers, actually does at his mysterious
government job. The wonderful Florence Pugh, hot off of 2019’s Midsommar, gives her all with the
script she’s given as Alice, and is easily one of the standout parts of the film. Jack, on the other
hand… Jack is played by Harry Styles, a man who should not act. (Every pop star nowadays seems to
think they can walk the tightrope between music and cinema as easily as Lady Gaga does, and it never
quite seems to work out for them.)
So, let’s put ourselves in Ms Wilde’s shoes. You have one common plot structure, one brilliant lead
actress, and one so-so lead actor. How do you make this movie… good?
Well, first you load up the secondary cast with talented people. KiKi Lane and Chris Pine both
absolutely kill it in their respective roles — Margaret, a troubled neighbour to Alice, and Frank,
Jack’s hammy villainous boss — but neither character feels fully fleshed out; Mr Pine in particular
finds himself with not much to do despite ostensibly being the driving force behind the plot.
You can also pour piles upon piles of money into your film’s technical aspects. The quaint suburb in
which Jack and Alice live is designed to within an inch of its life, and every shot is clear, crisp,
and packed with colour while not being too overbearing — like a James Bond film or, if you’re being
unkind, a perfume commercial.
Alright. You’ve got your cast, you’ve got your style, now you just need to… ah, god, what was it?
You look down at the smudged writing on your hand — ah, yes, the script! You have to write a script,
with, like, a plot and stuff.
You wake up from a terrible dream. You are no longer Olivia Wilde. You are once again the handsome
reader of the blog of an even handsomer webmixter, who politely informs you that the film’s
one-block-wide Jenga tower of a storyline, while it seemed to be setting up for an interesting
conclusion, falls apart completely in the third act. The film’s writers pull out every cliché in the
book — “it was all in VR!” “our protagonist’s best friend was in on it!”
“if you die in the game you die in real life!” — in the space of about ten minutes, with barely any
of it given room to breathe. (In fact, that third revelation comes after a pivotal death
scene.) Just as the audience wonders what impact this will have on the plot going forward, the film
just… ends, with a distinctly unsatisfying resolution to our hero’s story, and an air of “well why
did they even bother?” about the villainous plot.
All in all, i really can’t recommend watching Don’t Worry Darling — perhaps catch it on
streaming when it comes out if it piques your interest, but don’t spend your heard-earned Lizzies on
going to the cinema to watch Harry Styles gaslight his wife for an hour and a half. (5/10)
Pass notes: some other films of note
See How They Run is a fun, Wes Anderson–lite romp of a mystery story that
gets in and out and does what it needs without making too much of a fuss about itself. Saoirse Ronan
and Sam Rockwell drive around in a tiny blue ’50s police car; what more could you possibly want?
(7½/10)
The Woman King is a fine enough (alternate-)historical epic carried on the
backs of some terrific performances by Thuso Mbedu and Viola Davis. (6/10)
I wasn’t expecting to be so spellbound by a seventy-year-old drama film of a bunch of people talking
in a room, but i absolutely could not take my eyes off of 12 Angry Men, which you should really just go watch right now. (9/10)
I think Morbius might legitimately be the worst film i’ve ever seen on the big screen. The
basic idea has potential, and for the first 15 minutes or so, i was cautiously optimistic — but then
it all gets smothered by a mountain of pure gobshite and some of the worst dialogue ever put to
screen.i
I recently had some downtime and, since ’tis the season, watched Censor, a small British
horror film about a film censor during the “video nasty” panic who investigates a strangely familiar
scene.
It’s tense, stylish, and scary — all the more impressive coming from its first-time director, Prano
Bailey-Bond — becoming more and more surreal the further it progresses. Give it a watch, why don’t
you?