In 1944, director Billy Wilder released the quintessential film noir before the term even existed. Double Indemnity bears all the hallmarks of the genre: wiseass repartee; crisp black-and-white cinematography; a manipulative femme fatale twisting a lust-fuelled sap around her finger; shards of light pouring through venetian blinds casting prison-bar shadows across the faces of our amoral protagonists as they hurtle towards a doomed comeuppance.
This is no spoiler. The movie opens at night (it’s noir, of course it’s night) with a wounded man driving his coupe through downtown LA, staggering to his office, and dictating a confession to his colleague: ‘Hold tight to that cheap cigar of yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson. Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35 years old, unmarried, no visible scars… until a little while ago, that is. Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money – and a woman – and I didn’t get the money and I didn’t get the woman.’
From here, flashbacks show Neff (Fred MacMurray) falling for the glamorous but unhappily married Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck). Together they concoct a devilishly clever plan to bump off Phyllis’ husband for his accident insurance money, only to come under the suspicious gaze of Neff’s friend and colleague, insurance investigator Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson).
Double Indemnity is an early example of a ‘whydunnit’, telling us the killer’s identity upfront (a narrative technique popularised 30 years later by TV’s Columbo), but is it the first thriller to make us root for a bad guy driven by greed and sex? Unclear, but certainly that opening narration sets the blackly comic tone that pervades the film, in which brief early scenes of sunny LA give way to ever more darkening shadows as our conniving pair descend into murder and betrayal.
The movie was based on a novella by hardboiled crime writer James M. Cain, who as a journalist had attended the trial of a woman and her lover convicted of a similar murder in the 1920s.
Wilder’s regular screenwriting collaborator Charles Brackett declined to adapt the book, regarding it as too scandalous and immoral, so Wilder famously hired master crime author Raymond Chandler, creator of the archetypal gumshoe Philip Marlowe. Chandler assumed that writing a film would be quick and easy, taking maybe three weeks. When he was told his weekly rate was $750, he thought he could stretch it out to four. As described by Maurice Zolotow in his biography Billy Wilder in Hollywood: ‘[Chandler] schlepped it in five weeks later. Billy read it at once while Chandler watched. Then he threw it – yes, hurled it – right at Chandler. It hit him in the chest and fell on his lap. “This is shit, Mr. Chandler,” he said amiably. He suggested that Chandler use it as a doorstop.’
Their relationship went downhill from there, with Chandler battling alcoholism and Wilder every step of the way. Nevertheless, their Oscar- nominated screenplay is a triumph, cleverly refining and reworking the novella while injecting Chandler’s trademark wit and smart-alec crosstalk. Take Phyllis and Walter’s flirty first encounter, fizzing with innuendo to dodge the censor’s red pencil:
PHYLLIS: There’s a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour.
NEFF: How fast was I going, officer?
PHYLLIS: I’d say about ninety.
NEFF: Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket. PHYLLIS: Suppose I let you off with a warning this time.
NEFF: Suppose it doesn’t take. PHYLLIS: Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles.
NEFF: Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder. PHYLLIS: Suppose you try putting it on my husband’s shoulder.
As a film and TV writer, I know full well that good dialogue is only as good as the actors delivering it, and Stanwyck and MacMurray are faultless, loading every line with just the right amount of sexy snark, Fred grinning an insouciant smirk, Barbara fighting the urge to do the same.
Years later, movies like Basic Instinct would make these seduction scenes explicit, but in 1940s Hollywood every erotic beat had to be carefully calibrated to sneak past America’s moral guardians. It was racy enough that Stanwyck first appears at the top of a staircase in a towel; moments later, Wilder’s camera fixates on her anklet as she descends in what were scripted as ‘pom-pom slippers’ – signifiers that despite her nice suburban home, Phyllis (in Wilder’s words) is showy and trashy. It’s the reason the director made Stanwyck wear a cheap blonde wig, which is constantly distracting once you realise it’s a piece. As one studio executive who hated the wig apparently stated: “We hire Barbara Stanwyck and we get George Washington.’
For a city that seems to have little reverence for its historical buildings, I take great pleasure in discovering (via Google maps) that the exterior of the Dietrichson residence, a Spanish Colonial Revival-style house in the Hollywood hills, has changed very little since it starred in the movie almost 80 years ago. If Double Indemnity is a thoroughbred film noir, it’s also a Los Angeles movie to its core, partly thanks to its locations – including the Hollywood & Western Building and the Hollywood Bowl – but also because every frame seems soaked in the sweat and humidity, cynicism and paranoia, of the big city.
Neff’s North Kingsley Drive apartment block is still standing too, the setting for one of the finest suspense scenes in any movie. Neff receives a late-night visit from Keyes, whose ‘little man’ in his stomach keeps telling him something is amiss with the Dietrichson insurance claim. Oblivious, Phyllis is on her way up to the apartment, but if she encounters Keyes, the murder conspiracy will be blown wide open. She is about to enter Neff’s apartment as Keyes is leaving, but at the last moment ducks behind Neff’s apartment door, which inexplicably opens outwards into the corridor. No apartment door has ever done this in the history of construction, but it’s testament to the movie’s immersive, slow-burning suspense that you don’t even register it on first, second or fiftieth watch.
At the 17th Academy Awards, Double Indemnity was rightly nominated for seven Oscars but wrongly won none. Wilder was apparently so furious about losing Best Director to Leo McCarey for the mawkish Going My Way that as McCarey walked to the stage, Wilder tripped him up. It’s the perfect coda for a movie that not only trips up but snaps the neck of the polite mores and suburban civilities that America was trying to sell itself in the 1940s; a movie that only an émigré like Wilder, having escaped the horrors of the Nazis, could so gleefully use to expose the dark, irredeemable recesses of human behaviour; a movie that in 2024, an election year in which politicians would have us believe there was once a golden age in which America was happy and bright, reminds us the country has always been merrily, deliciously dark.
Photographs by SAM SHAW Words by GISELE SCHMIDT & GARY OLDMAN
The love of Sam Shaw’s photographs begins with Gary’s admiration for the films of John Cassavetes, the grandfather of independent American cinéma vérité. Gary is a self-described Cassavetes junkie. Having had little exposure to Cassavetes’ work prior to the start of our relationship, Gary immediately introduced me to several of his films. But what was it about Cassavetes that Gary found so undeniably fascinating? His style. Cassavetes dared to capture what other filmmakers would overlook: raw humanity and the chaotic nature of life. Cassavetes broke the rules of traditional filmmaking and his unconventional storytelling refused to tie up loose ends for the sake of providing the audience with a happy ending. Cassavetes took one look at Hollywood’s formula and threw it all away! Cassavetes’ influence is abundantly evident when one views Gary’s masterpiece, Nil by Mouth. Much like Cassavetes, Gary wrote, directed, financed and produced his film to depict a messy but emotionally honest story, not compromising his artistic vision for commercial appeal. But how does all of this bring us back to Sam Shaw?
Well, Cassavetes and Sam were best friends, colleagues, and collaborators. Shaw was an advisor on Cassavetes’ first film, Shadows (1959), and later went on to produce many of Cassavetes’ films including Husbands (1970), A Woman Under the Influence (1974), The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976), Opening Night (1977) and Gloria (1980). A producer, sometimes production designer, publicity and advertising campaign contributor, and later a filmmaker in his own right, Sam never gave up his first love of photography and remained the specials photographer on set.
Gary’s favourite Cassavetes film is Husbands, so naturally, the second photograph he had me track down for his collection was of Peter Falk, Ben Gazzara and John Cassavetes during its filming. We are so grateful to the Shaw Family Archives, who so graciously opened their vault of Sam’s personal prints and allowed Gary to acquire a sequence of five photographs, culminating in the image at the top of this page, which was used for publicity on the release of the film.
Sam’s photographs embrace independence and encourage spontaneity. Shaw wasn’t looking for the traditional ‘perfect’ shot. Shaw’s images can be raw, have blurred focus, with skewed perspectives, but they are undoubtedly beautiful, innovative and real. They capture the perfect but fleeting moment that only a click of the shutter can provide. How can one not laugh at Brando pulling a face? Or be charmed by Marilyn waving hello? Or be transfixed by the angle of the shot of Loren snoozing under the hair dryer with Shaw’s self-portrait reflected in a mirror in the bottom corner? With his artistic composition and his journalistic instinct, Shaw’s images are uncharacteristically Hollywood; what Cassavetes did for film is what Shaw did for stills photography. What a legacy!
Shaw’s career spanned six decades and there was never a day that his two beaten-up Nikon cameras weren’t at the ready dangling from his neck. His photographs graced the covers of LIFE, Look, Paris Match, the Daily Mail, Der Stern, Harper’s Bazaar and countless other publications. He captured images of everyone from those mentioned above to Elizabeth Taylor, Audrey Hepburn, Charlie Chaplin, Frank Sinatra… The list goes on and on and on. His photographic archive covers a variety of his interests: cinema, music, theatre, literature and the arts, as well as social and political activism, and it is preserved and promoted today by his children and grandchildren through the Shaw Family Archives.
If you drive north from San Francisco on the 101, the impressive engineering feat of the Golden Gate Bridge is a postcard view that wows. But further north, nestling among the rolling countryside and a carpet of trees, lies another architectural feast for the eyes – one that seems plucked straight from a sci-fi movie. With its cerulean domes, scalloped roof, textured spire and clean lines, Marin County Civic Center in San Raphael recalls the architecture of Jabba’s Palace in Star Wars: Return Of The Jedi and the roofline of Naboo in The Phantom Menace. As large as any palace and situated in the dip between golden hills, you could almost believe that this mid-century complex housing the county’s hall of justice, library, post office and administration buildings might be expecting a visit from C-3PO and R2-D2, or hosting a celebration parade presided over by Padmé Amidala.
Marin County Civic Center in San Raphael recalls the architecture of Jabba’s Palace in Star Wars: Return of the Jedi and the roofline of Naboo in The Phantom Menace
That’s no coincidence – long-time Marin resident George Lucas conceived and filmed his Star Wars films in the surrounding area (the Ewoks made their home in the redwood forest north of the site), and his creative hub, Skywalker Ranch, sprawls nearby. But his first brush with the centre came in 1970, when the fledgling filmmaker created a future dystopia in THX-1138 and used the municipal buildings as interior and exterior locations for his debut feature film. Self-described as a ‘frustrated architect’, Lucas may not have been good enough at maths to create bricks-and-mortar designs, but as a celluloid world-builder his vision shaped cinema and popular culture. Perhaps his shoot in Frank Lloyd Wright’s truly visionary space was more influential than merely kicking off an interstellar career.
Lucas isn’t the only filmmaker to be struck by the futuristic splendour of the building. When scouting for a place to represent the near-future headquarters of Gattaca for the 1997 film of the same name, director Andrew Niccol chose the roof and the library of the centre to convey the sense of order, precision and sterility of eugenics. Many visitors now recreate the arrival to work for Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman as they enter the hushed building and take the escalator up through the oval rotunda. And perhaps one of sci-fi’s leading lights, Philip K Dick, was inspired by the symmetry and style of the place – he visited the police department in 1971 to report a robbery at his house, fearing the CIA had ransacked his safe. The Marin County Civic Center would not be out of place in one of his bestselling books.
It would have likely pleased Wright to know his work caught the imagination of those looking to the stars – he conceived his building to withstand the test of time but also mature into the environment, planning trees that would not reach their full potential until long after he was gone, and designing structures that would require materials not yet available to him while he sketched. In this way, Wright was something of a time traveller himself – projecting into the future as he conceived the structure in 1958.
Despite his fame and reputation, Wright had not been the first choice to create the campus in San Raphael when the original courthouse burned down and needed replacing. Land was bought in 1956 and a selection committee looked at the submitted work of 26 architects (Wright refused to compete). Wright had featured on the 1957 New Year’s Day cover of House Beautiful magazine and committee member Vera Schultz and planning department head Mary Summers campaigned to offer the job to him without a submitted plan. In March 1957, he was lecturing at nearby Berkeley and was convinced to visit the proposed site. Gazing across the view from a jeep parked on the highest hill, he apparently could envisage a design immediately and took the commission. He was 90 years old and still inspired. ‘In Marin County you have one of the most beautiful landscapes I have seen,’ he said. ‘Here is a crucial opportunity to open the eyes not of Marin County alone, but of the entire country, to what officials gathering together might themselves do to broaden and beautify human lives.’
He certainly brought beauty to the valley – designing a 580 ft-long administrative building connected to an 880 ft-long Hall Of Justice and lozenge-shaped library, juxtaposed in classic Wright vernacular by a 172 ft-tall spire (that he erroneously told officials was a vital radio mast in order to get around height laws). His domes were intended to be gold to reflect the surrounding grassland; his interiors boasted his trademark ‘Cherokee red’ in lacquered doors and walls lining circular atriums; his floors custom tiles and terrazzo. His designs were organic rather than stoic and he incorporated literal organic architecture, planning a line of pine trees surrounding the site that would naturally die off to reveal slower growing native oaks over decades. And he predicted our reliance on the car, conceiving three arches in the building so that citizens could drive through the heart of county matters.
Wright died in 1959 before ground was broken in 1960, but his vision was brought to life in his absence and in accordance with his dream of a community environment that reflected the natural world around it. Interior woodwork and furniture designed by Wright and Aaron Green was fabricated locally at the San Quentin and Soledad Penitentiary wood shops. The gold dome was given a sustainable life with a switch to a material that would not tarnish, the blue of it (chosen by Wright’s widow, Olgivanna) reflecting the skies above. Future additions (such as the jail completed in 1994 from Wright’s designs) also reflect his theme of circular spaces, orbs, spheres, arcs and arches. All very celestial, contributing to the sense of entering a beautiful spaceship or intergalactic palace when crossing the threshold.
The civic buildings are always open to the public and would-be Naboo and Gungans wanting to admire the calming campus can do so on a weekly guided tour (Fridays at 10.30am) or self tour via the campus’ app. Perhaps the next-generation’s sci-fi disruptor will be inspired to dream of new worlds gazing through its domed skylights or ascending the escalator through the rich, red concentric circles of the atrium.
Photographs and video by MARK READ Marin County Civic Center. 3501 Civic Center Drive, San Rafael, CA 94903, United States.www.marincounty.org
Words by ARIANNE PHILLIPS As told to JEREMY LANGMEAD
Esteemed costume designer and Hollywood Authentic correspondent Arianne Phillips sits down with a man she describes as ‘the costume designers’ costume designer’, Albert Wolsky, to discuss swapping travel agenting for tailoring, working with legendary directors, dressing Diane Keaton and the beautiful mistakes of the classic musical Grease.
Albert Wolsky, 93, is a great artist with a prolific and profound career that has continued to influence and inform culture across multiple generations. His work spans every genre of filmmaking: drama, comedy, science fiction, period, contemporary, musicals, thrillers. From Grease to Galaxy Quest, All That Jazz to The Jazz Singer, Down and Out in Beverly Hills to Star 80, Manhattan to Sophie’s Choice, Across the Universe to The Manchurian Candidate, Revolutionary Road to Road to Perdition, and Birdman to Bugsy, Wolsky has worked with the most influential directors of the last century and this. He has close to 100 films to his credit.
I have a deep respect, reverence and admiration for Mr Wolsky. I’m in awe of his artistry, his vision, his subtle and bold choices, the worlds he creates, and his layered storytelling. He is truly an icon for me and many of our colleagues.
Albert is also incredibly humble, kind, funny, warm and generous. Preparing for our conversation was nerve-wracking, to say the least – where would I begin? How would I be able to do justice to his more than 50-year career? In the end, our hours-long conversation flew by. Albert shared many wonderful stories and memories. I am thrilled to be able to share a part of that conversation with you here.
AP: Thank you so much for giving us your time.
AW: Not at all. You’ve made me reflect, and think back, which I don’t often do, so it’s been very interesting.
AP: And Albert, as you know, we all like to discuss how we can promote or elevate, even celebrate, the art of costume design and stories such as this help us to do that.
AW: Absolutely. It’s very important. Because otherwise you get totally ignored. Even today it’s always a fight to get your name out there otherwise you get swept under the carpet.
AP: I’m so grateful that I got to talk to you today. You are a costume designer’s costume designer: humble, approachable, warm – and the benchmark that we all aspire to. When I was revisiting your resume I was intimidated because the films you have designed have been probably the most influential ones for me, personally. From Where’s Poppa (Carl Reiner, 1970), Lenny (Bob Fosse, 1974) and Harry And Tonto (Paul Mazurksy, 1974)… all these films my parents dragged me to as a kid. And I was especially inspired by your collaborations with Mazurksy. You made 11 movies together…
AW: Well that was a gift. He is the only director I’ve worked with for that long – between 15 to 20 years. I’ve had influential directors – Bob Fosse, of course, and others – but for me Paul Mazurksy was the benchmark. [During his career, Mazursky, who died in 2014, received five Academy Award nominations and two Golden Globe nominations.]
AP: So Albert, how did you get into a career as a costume designer. You came into it quite late I think?
AW: Yeah, I was 30. I never knew what I wanted to do. And I kept sort of wandering along and got through college and then I was drafted, so I went in the army for two years. When I came out I joined my father who was a travel agent. We worked together in New York City for around five years. We got along really well, but I came to realise that he was doing exactly what he wanted to do. He loved it. And I wasn’t. I was getting more and more miserable to the point where I dreaded weekends because I had to come back to work on Monday. So I thought, well, I’ll have to go in and say, ‘I have to leave,’ and he’s going to say, ‘For what?’ And I would need to say something. And because I liked fashion and loved theatre, I thought why not combine the two? I’ll try to become a costume designer for the theatre. Movies hadn’t crossed my mind at that point.
My father was actually very supportive and so I started asking around to see if anyone would let me study under them. I was persistent and eventually someone suggested I should talk to the renowned Broadway costume designer Helene Pons. She was a designer, but she also ran a costume house, and had executed Cecil Beaton’s costume sketches for My Fair Lady in 1956. [Pons worked with everyone from Tallulah Bankhead to John Gielgud; and as well as My Fair Lady worked on original stage productions such as 1949’s Kiss Me Kate and 1955’s The Diary of Anne Frank.]
We met, I did her a favour with some flights she needed for a trip, and she offered me a job straight away. So I left the travel business on a Friday, and I started on a Monday with Helen Pons working on Camelot starring Richard Burton and Julie Andrews. And that was my beginning. For $100 a week, I helped run her studio and learned on the job. And subsequently got to work for and alongside some of Broadway’s most talented designers, directors and actors.
AP: What was the first production you did on your own?
AW: It was a play called Generation in 1965. It was the first time I got sole credit for costume design. And Henry Fonda was the star. And then sometime later I got a call from the costume designer Theoni V Aldredge [whose work included 1974’s The Great Gatsby, Ghostbusters and Addams Family Values] offering me a film. Assisting on a movie is probably a good idea, I thought, so I said, ‘When do you need me?’ She said, ‘Right away. And I don’t want you to assist. I want you to do it yourself as I can’t.’
It was the film version of one of my favourite books, The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers. The cast included Alan Arkin, Sondra Locke and Chuck McCann. Alan was a spiritual man; very nice, and he requested me for the next movie that he did. And so we’re off.
AP: How did you find the difference between theatre and movie costume design?
AW: I first noticed it with the fittings. You could always tell in those days whether an actor came from television or from the theatre by the way he looked in the mirror. A theatre actor would immediately start looking for the character. A movie actor would just pick clothes off the rack. The clothes weren’t him, they were just another costume. I try to avoid working that way. And I very rarely had to deal with that in my career.
One of my favourite people to work with in recent years was Jude Law when we were working on Sam Mendes’ film Road To Perdition in 2002. He really invested in time with the costume, hair and make-up teams. We experimented in many different ways for his character to dress and appear. And what we ended up with had nothing to do with what the person he was playing looked like originally. He was so involved with that. It doesn’t happen very often.
AP: So tell me about working on Lenny, the biographical film about the comedian Lenny Bruce, starring Dustin Hoffman and directed by the legendary Bob Fosse.
AW: Fosse had done two movies, Sweet Charity, in Hollywood, and Cabaret, which he made in Europe. Fosse was not what you would call buddy buddy, he was serious. You never laughed a lot on set with Fosse, but he worked hard. He’d be the first one on set, moving things around, setting up all the camera shots. And he remembered everything. He had that kind of mind. But as far as influence with costumes, it was very free.
We decided we wouldn’t dress Hoffman like Lenny Bruce and after that he didn’t get too involved. I would present my ideas to him and he would say, well, maybe this, or he would say no. It went very smoothly. But he was a true perfectionist. I stepped up a level working for Fosse on Lenny and on All That Jazz.
AP: What do you think made you have such a successful career?
AW: You know, I was starting to reflect a little bit and I thought, I don’t consider myself so brilliant. So how did I do that? I don’t know. When you start out, you’re just glad you’re working. You don’t spend too much time contemplating how or why. But I think I always looked out for a good script, as it gives you ideas, and who the director was. I’m very director oriented. And I’d always hope it was a period piece because I found contemporary very difficult to do.
AP: How come?
AW: Difficult because it then becomes a thing of taste. The other person’s taste, a producer’s taste. There’s so much interference. There’s much less interference in period because they don’t quite know as much. And you can really push harder.
AP: Tell me more about working with Mazurksy?
AW: Oh, we knew each other from New York. And we first worked together on Harry and Tonto in 1974. It starred Art Carney, who won an Academy award for best actor. We worked mostly in New York; Paul preferred it there. Obviously for films such as Down and Out in Beverly Hills (1986) we were based in California.
Paul was very collaborative and would get me involved very early in the process. By the time we started rehearsal, I had had weeks of preparation. And that was a gift. It makes you a better designer, and it makes you able to give more to help the project. Paul was very open to ideas. And smart. What he didn’t know, he picked up very quickly. Being open is so important.
AP: Which other directors have you found collaborative to work with regarding the costume design?
AW: The last great director I worked with in that way, I would say, was Sam Mendes. Road To Perdition, which I mentioned already, with Tom Hanks, Paul Newman and Daniel Craig, as well as Jude – about a mob enforcer in the Great Depression – was a very rewarding experience. Sam was great, a wonderful director.
On the first day of shooting Road to Perdition, there was a scene with 500 people coming out of a factory. And in the afternoon, a bread line of 300 people. That’s a lot of costumes. And as we were setting those scenes up, Sam’s assistant was watching and she came up to me and said: ‘Sam’s going to be so impressed.’ And I said, ‘Well if he doesn’t like them, fuck him.’ Later in the day I get a tug on the arm. It’s Sam. ‘It’s very nice,’ he says. ‘And I understand I have to like it.’
We worked together again on a big crowd costume scene in Revolutionary Road (2008) with Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. When DiCaprio is heading to his office in Manhattan from the suburbs of New York in the early 1960s, we had dozens of commuters in similar grey or beige suits and fedoras. Really, that scene was all about the hats.
But you see, you can discover my secret of how I handle some period things. It’s not the exactness of the period, but it’s what people did that helps me. The fact that everybody wore hats. Not every person wore hats then, but for that scene to look right and to tell the story, and to capture the mood, we put everyone in hats.
AP: It’s the thinking like that about costume design that’s important to share. It’s important for people to know what a costume designer does and thinks. It is not just pretty clothes. It’s about storytelling, and it’s about helping the story and helping the director to visualise that story. And if you feel you can help that, it’s a gift for you personally.
AW: Oh, yeah. I think it should always be a collaboration. And it doesn’t matter who gets the credit. I’m not worried about the credit. I’m worried about what we have, what do we need, what do we see, how do we help? And it’s such a joy when it works like that.
AP: Hats have played an important role in a few of your movies. Didn’t you work with Warren Beatty on Bugsy (1991)?
AW: Warren is a lovely man, very talented, but he’s not comfortable with anybody the first time. He has to work with them a lot before he trusts them. It was wonderful working with him and the director Barry Levinson. And then Annette Bening, who was just at the start of her career. She was very open and it was a joy to dress her. The only problem I ever had with Annette is that she never reacted when looking at herself in the costume in the mirror for the first time.
AP: Are you looking for some sort of reaction?
AW: She never said yes, or let’s just do it, or that’s okay. So I would think what’s missing; something’s missing. And then one day, while we were shooting, as she was walking towards the set and I was behind her, she stood straight and everything about her changed. She opened the door, was ready to act, and that changed the whole costume. It came alive. That was so moving to me, to watch. That’s what was missing at the fitting.
AP: It must have been interesting working with Diane Keaton, who has an amazing dress sense of her own?
AW: I worked with Diane on Manhattan with Woody Allen in 1979 alongside Meryl Streep and Mariel Hemingway. Diane was very influential on how her character looked; especially after Annie Hall had come out. At that point she was Allen’s girlfriend. I learned that Allen was never going to say no to any actor about how they wanted to dress for the role. If an actor wanted to wear a pajama top, that’s what they wore. Which didn’t always make it easy for me.
Diane always dresses as if she’s playing a role. Her whole personality is how she looks. When we filmed Crimes of the Heart together in 1986 (Bruce Beresford directed) alongside Jessica Lange and Sissy Spacek, we were all staying in a resort out of town. Off-set, everyone was dressed down in the mornings except for Diane who would appear at breakfast in a big cape, hat, big cross, looking like a character from a different movie. The other two were so in awe of her. I liked her a lot. She was always in costume.
AP: And, of course, you did the costumes for Grease. Costumes that are still emulated and worn by generations who weren’t even born when the film was made in 1978.
AW: In the making of Grease (directed by Randal Kleiser), none of us who worked on it ever thought that it was going to become so iconic. We were just trying to do a good movie. As John Travolta said to me at one of these open-air screenings a few years ago, ‘Albert, do you realise we’re still talking about Grease?’ You know, its endurance and fashion influence is a total surprise; the fact that people now dress in character to go to watch the movie is amazing. It wasn’t what we imagined when making it. I don’t remember if I was trying to make a statement or what. I was just going by numbers. It wasn’t a big budget and the shooting was quite hectic. And everything, everything was off the cuff. The last number… well, we didn’t have a last number when we started the film. I think it was two weeks before they started rehearsing that we were given the script for that scene. But there it was and, all of a sudden, you had to get all the costumes done. In retrospect, the mistakes were better than the non-mistakes. The play was a mess on Broadway, and the movie is a slight mess, but it worked out really well. [It was the highest-grossing live-action musical movie until 2012’s Les Misérables.]
AP: There’s so much more we could talk about, Albert! We will have to continue in person over dinner.
AW: Thank you. You made me feel very good revisiting my work today.
AP: You’ve worked with the most incredible talent because you are an incredible talent. Your extraordinary career is a measure of who you are as a person.
AW: It’s been such a pleasure to be a part of so many stories. It always will be.
Few cities come wrapped in as fine a cloak of glamour as Italy’s lady of the lagoon. Venice is a place of remarkable beauty and splendour, alive with a history that is openly apparent in its canals and churches, museums and monuments. But for the best part of a fortnight at the end of every summer, this European aristocrat becomes even more chic – via the Venice Film Festival, which brings many of cinema’s biggest actors and filmmakers to its door. The fun and games take place all over the city and its islands – but, most notably, in the grand hotels where the A-list comes to stay and play…
1. THE CIPRIANI If you are looking for a hotel that encapsulates the sophistication of Venice, you need only cast your eye across the water from central San Marco to the nearby island of Giudecca. There, it will alight on the Cipriani – the gorgeous daydream of a hideaway that may be the city’s most exclusive. It has always been a perfect creation – conceived in 1958 as an escape from it all by the chef and hotelier Giuseppe Cipriani. He knew what he was doing, crafting an accommodation masterpiece that was – and still is – an oasis removed from both the tourists who crowd into Venice, and the general commotion of the film festival. But it is not so far removed as to be aloof or impractical. There it rests, at the eastern corner of Giudecca, peering across the lagoon at the belltower of St Mark’s Basilica, just a five-minute ride away by water taxi.
It’s also exceedingly luxurious – both inside, where its chandeliers of Murano glass all but make for an art museum of themselves, and out. The Palladio Suite is the jewel of the 79 sumptuous rooms, a space with 180-degree views of the lagoon, a private dock entrance, a terrace with a plunge pool, and scurrying clouds painted across its ceiling. It is not the only grand space. Somehow, in a city so busy, Cipriani found room to install an Olympic-sized salt-water swimming pool and tennis court. Both have been enjoyed over the years by a cavalcade of talent: Sophia Loren, Yves Saint Laurent, Cary Grant, Burt Reynolds and Catherine Deneuve, to name just a few. Those premiering films on the Lido often make the ‘Cip’ their home, bobbing across the water in Venice’s trademark polished-wood water taxis, or eating shellfish at Il Porticciolo, an oyster bar at the water’s edge. The hotel’s Cip Club, a wooden terrace with breathtaking views of Saint Mark’s, is a delightful place to wind down and make deals. And there are opportunities for relaxation too, at the house spa, which sits within the Casanova Gardens – so-named because the great Venetian lover used to stroll and woo within them.
Cocktails are a firm tradition in the Cipriani’s world. Giuseppe was also the brains behind the famous Harry’s Bar (see opposite page), while George Clooney, a regular guest, helped to create the Buona Notte (a mix of vodka, lime, fresh ginger, cane sugar, bitters and cranberry juice) and the Nina’s Special (a combination of elderflower and passionfruit, named in honour of his mother) on prior stays. Hollywood Authentic’s founder also has a drink named after him; ‘The Greg’ is a bowl glass filled with ice and prosecco. Saluti!
2. THE HOTEL EXCELSIOR One hotel has always stood at the epicentre of the Venice Film Festival – acting as its official venue since the inaugural event in 1932. But then, the Excelsior can trace its tale back even further than that. It formally opened its doors in 1908, amid the optimism of the Belle Époque – the period of good times that preceded the First World War.
It does not sit among the bridges and palaces of fabled San Marco – instead, it waits on that long barrier island, the Lido, facing the Adriatic. Its location has always served the festival well, softening the cut and thrust of the event with sea breezes, golden beachfront views and a landing jetty slap-bang next to the festival’s premiere cinema. This formula has worked since 6 August 1932, when the original festival began with a screening, out on the terrace, of the horror classic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, with Fredric March in the dual title role. There have been plenty more star guests in the subsequent decades – such as Winston Churchill, and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, who slumbered in its spacious rooms. Appropriately, there have been plenty of visits by Hollywood royalty as well – Ingrid Bergman, Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Clark Gable, James Cagney and Joan Crawford all enjoyed scarcely needed beauty sleep under the Excelsior’s cupola-dotted roof. Nowadays, many of the festival’s contemporary artists enjoy the Moorish-design balconies during stays and junkets.
The hotel is so embedded in movie culture that it has appeared on camera pretending to be somewhere else. When Robert De Niro’s New York hoodlum eats out at a Long Island seafood restaurant in Once Upon A Time In America, he is, in fact, enjoying the pleasures of the Sala Stucchi – one of the Excelsior’s most feted dining spaces.
3. GRITTI PALACE Like the Cipriani and the Excelsior, the Gritti Palace’s location is both desirable and on the water – but, in this case, on the north edge of the Grand Canal, in the core of the medieval city. Formerly the Palazzo Pisani Gritti, a stately mansion originally constructed in the 14th century, it still bears the name of its most famous resident, Andrea Gritti, the nobleman who held court as the Doge (Prince) of Venice between 1523 and 1538. He is not the only power player to have slept here. In the near-130 years since the palazzo was converted into a hotel (in 1895), the likes of Grace Kelly, Humphrey Bogart and Charlie Chaplin have all checked into its ornately decorated rooms (82 in total, including 10 suites), as well as Ernest Hemingway – always a man with good taste in accommodation. And the hotel became a cinematic star in its own right in Woody Allen’s romantic caper Everyone Says I Love You – the actor-director’s typically anxious New Yorker attempting to woo Julia Roberts, who is staying in the Gritti’s Hemingway Suite.
More recently, the property became a safe haven for Tom Cruise, who was in Venice when the Covid pandemic struck in March 2020, while doing the groundwork for Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One. He made the wholly understandable decision to lock down in the city at the Gritti Palace. Why wouldn’t he, when the Riva Lounge, a grand terrace with one of the best views of the Grand Canal, awaits?
As writer W Somerset Maugham observed: ‘There are few things in life more pleasant than to sit on the terrace of the Gritti when the sun, about to set, bathes in lovely colour the Salute.’ Its green marble and antique mirrored interior makes for one of the most beautiful bars in Italy. Order the dry martini (Hemingway’s favourite tipple while staying) from the bespoke martini cart, and relax.
4. HOTEL DANIELI The regal Danieli has been a supremely distinguished spot on the Venetian map for more than 700 years. Set just around the corner from St Mark’s Square (with a rear facade that overlooks the quayside of Riva degli Schiavoni), its location is also superb. It encompasses another 14th-century mansion, the Palazzo Dandolo. And as with the Gritti, its name harks back to a genteel former resident – Giuseppe Dal Niel, a wealthy 19th-century local, who went by the nickname “Danieli”. It was he who purchased the property in 1824, restored it lavishly, and began its transformation into a hotel. It now houses the renowned Gritti Epicurean School and the Explorer’s Library, a sacred space for bookworms, with its collection of rare tomes.
Danieli would surely be thrilled that his passion project is still so revered exactly two centuries later. Charles Dickens, Peggy Guggenheim, Leonard Bernstein, Marcel Proust and Honoré de Balzac, as well as Steven Spielberg, have all crossed the threshold. It is a star location for The Tourist and the Venetian segment of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
It is also one of the sites to have helped to cement the alliance between Venice and James Bond – a union that began with From Russia With Love in 1963, and continued with 2006’s Casino Royale. However, it was neither Sean Connery nor Daniel Craig who strolled through the Danieli on celluloid. Its Suite del Doge (royal suite) housed a spot of horseplay between Roger Moore and Lois Chiles in 1979’s Moonraker.
If you can tear your eyes away from the fondant of a balustraded internal staircase in the lobby, check out the photos of another noted guest – Elizabeth Taylor and her Pekingese pups arriving for one of her many stays.
HARRY’S BAR A true Venetian icon, the bijou Harry’s Bar was opened in 1931 by Giuseppe Cipriani, 27 years before he dreamt up his hotel. He named it after an American tourist, Harry Pickering, to whom he lent money to while working as a bartender at the Hotel Europa. Pickering later returned to Venice with the repayment and more; enough cash for Cipriani to open his own establishment. It is a watering hole where two indulgent traditions were born. In 1934, Cipriani paired champagne and white peach juice to produce the Bellini, a refreshing delight of a drink that many festival-goers will be familiar with. And in 1963, Venetian countess Amalia Nani Mocenigo requested a light snack, adding that her doctors had instructed her not to eat processed meat. In a moment, Cipriani had invented beef carpaccio, complementing the thin slivers of pink flesh with lemon juice and salt.
To sip a Bellini, in trademark stemless glasses, at the wooden bar is to follow in the footsteps of Ernest Hemingway, Truman Capote and Maria Callas.
DA IVO RESTAURANT George Clooney held his stag do this at this cosy San Marco trattoria with cheery red tablecloths, specials chalked on a gilt-framed blackboard, and its own gondola stop. With good reason. The menu takes in oysters and delights such as duck pasta, octopus ragu, Granseola crab and the Venetian desert, Sgroppino – whipped lemon sorbet, prosecco and vodka with a dash of Calvados, designed to ‘untie a little knot’ after over-indulging. Which you surely will.
Photographs by RICK O’BRIEN Words by ABBIE CORNISH
My ongoing culinary explorations have led me to some of the finest Mexican restaurants, challenging the notion that the best Mexican food must be street food – simple, inexpensive and casual. While the vibrant flavours of a roadside taco stand are undisputed, there is a different kind of allure in the upscale dining experiences offered by places like Quetzal, located in Toronto, Canada, helmed by Chef Steven Molnar.
Upon entering Quetzal (named after the resplendent national bird of Guatemala, distinguished by its brightly coloured tail feathers), guests are enveloped in a warm sensory charm. Centred around an open fire, the whole kitchen vibrates with the energy of the flame.
Quetzal is cosy and inviting. The space is well designed and custom fit to perfectly handle the heat and smoke from the open fires that burn all evening. After service, the crew swiftly packs down and the remaining red-hot embers are placed into a large kiln. The same embers are used to light the next day’s fire. There’s something lovely about this. As practical as it may be, the process feels spiritual and ritualistic.
It’s comfortable here. The vibe is relaxed and friendly. Chef Molnar is centre stage, accompanied by an array of characters who are more than adept in the kitchen. The service is prompt, knowledgeable and attentive – and everyone is happy.
Quetzal celebrates regional Mexican cuisine, inspired by traditional flavours and cooking styles, all prepared over a 28 foot-long open wood fire. Traditional moles, salsas and little-known ingredients are infused with an abundance of local produce making for a one-of-a-kind, elevated dining experience. Since assuming the role of head chef in 2019, Steven Molnar has spent years honing the craft of wood-fire cooking. His exploration of Mexican cuisine, in conjunction with his unique culinary background, has helped solidify Quetzal’s reputation as one of the premier dining destinations in Toronto, earning it a deserved Michelin Star. And this year, the restaurant ranked #12 in the 2024 Canada’s 100 Best restaurant list.
Here you can enjoy a very affordable and delectable tasting menu or order à la carte. The tasting menu ($125 CAD) is of exceptional value. Each course was a celebration of refined craftsmanship, marrying traditional flavours with modern dining standards. The pièce de résistance of the evening was undoubtedly the whole fish (whole Sea Bream with salsa roja and salsa cruda), perfectly seasoned and served with petite, soft, handmade tortillas. This dish alone encapsulated the perfect balance that high-end Mexican cuisine strives for.
Some of my other favourites that evening were the ensalada verde, with baby gem lettuce, Cookstown radishes, sunflower seeds, toasted sesame, chayote, poblano kosho and trout roe. Simple but with a little Chef Molnar twist on it, a gentle touch of bitter and sweet, a combination that Molnar does well in a variety of dishes. A unique style that is a delight to the taste buds. I also loved the dry-aged amberjack aguachile, which is accompanied by pasilla and chickpea miso, rhubarb juice, jicama, amaranth, habanero, scallion oil and white soy. And the memela is absolutely delicious: a traditional masa, made with homemade corn dough using a cónico azul that comes from Puebla, stuck with cheese that is crafted in-house, called quesillo. The quesillo is long and pulled in strands, looking almost like a ball of yarn. On top is a salsa de chile morita, made from very small chillies that are both floral and smoky. And speaking of smoky, here we also have a smoked shiitake mushroom conserva, some mizuna, papa chicharron and grilled runner beans. So good! Another notable dish is the bone marrow and wild Argentinian shrimp. Such a great combination. I loved getting my hands dirty with this one!
The desserts are well worth indulging in. I particularly loved the coconut nicuatole. It’s the signature dessert here and has been on the menu since day one. Coconut milk and coconut cream are blended with leftover masa from the kitchen. After that, the combo is cooked down into a silken custard texture and whipped. It’s then served with pineapple compressed with hibiscus syrup, mezcal, meringue and mint. It’s memorable, that’s for sure.
With an extensive beverage menu, including an incredibly long wine list and many delicious handcrafted cocktails, Quetzal also makes for a great watering hole. Wine pairing is priced at $100 CAD per person. I thoroughly enjoyed the pairing, definitely worth it. Though I have to say the highlight for me was the ‘No Heather, It’s Heather’s Turn’ cocktail, also known as ‘The Green Heather’. This cocktail is made with agua santa mezcal, pisco, pineapple, green sauce, celery bitters and lime. It’s fresh yet savoury, a perfect cocktail in my opinion.
Critics often argue that Mexican cuisine should stick to its roots, emphasizing accessibility and straightforwardness. However, chefs at top-tier establishments like Quetzal are proving that Mexican food can also thrive in a fine-dining context. They reinterpret classic dishes using high-quality ingredients and sophisticated techniques, presented with artistic flair. This approach doesn’t just transform the ingredients; it elevates the entire dining experience, offering a new perspective on traditional Mexican flavours.
The culinary world is inherently about evolution and personal expression. Fine-dining Mexican establishments contribute to this diversity, allowing both chefs and diners to explore and appreciate the cuisine in novel ways. The journey through such meals is more than just eating; it’s an immersive experience that respects the past while boldly embracing the future.
Photographs by RICK O’BRIEN Words by ABBIE CORNISH Quetzal is located at: 419 College St, Toronto, ON M5T 1T1, Canada. The restaurant is open from Wednesday to Sunday, accepting reservations and walk-ins from 6:00pm to 10:00pm, and can be booked on Open Table. quetzaltoronto.com
Much like Disney + show The Mandalorian immerses you back into the Star Wars universe, so Alien: Romulus is a film that deep dives you into the world that began with Ridley Scott’s 1979 sci-fi/horror masterpiece Alien. Directed by Fede Álvarez (Don’t Breathe), this takes place between the events of Alien and James Cameron’s 1986 sequel Aliens, as the Weyland-Yutani Corporation deal with the fallout of the creature that wreaked havoc in the Nostromo ship, killing all but warrant officer Ellen Ripley in Scott’s original movie.
Here, Álvarez selects a young cast as his leads, led by Priscilla star Cailee Spaeny, who plays Rain, a young woman entombed in W-Y’s Jackson Star’s Mining Colony. With her is Andy (Industry’s David Jonsson), an android she treats as her brother. Rescued by Rain’s father, Andy’s only directive is to keep Rain safe. But things change when youngsters Tyler (Archie Renaux), his sister Kay (Isabela Merced) and fellow renegades Bjorn (Spike Fearn) and Navarro (Aileen Wu) approach Rain with a plan to escape the colony.
Desperate to jet off to a faraway planet, the gang can only do it with the help of some cryogenic pods that will put them to sleep for the 9-year journey. Fortunately, a nearby derelict space station that’s just been found has the requisite equipment. But it just so happens that this giant vessel, with its bays named ‘Romulus’ and ‘Remus’, is overrun with facehuggers – the skittery, spider-like blighters that use humans as incubators to give birth to the Aliens. Soon, this heist becomes a terrifying matter of survival. Álvarez doesn’t just offer up another tale of extraterrestrials devouring their prey, although there is plenty of that, including one spellbinding scene involving gravity and the creatures’ acid blood. Instead, the script expands on the universe first conjured by Dan O’Bannon in his script for the original Alien, notably exploring the ruthless machinations of “the company”, who will go to any lengths to research these creatures – the so-called “perfect organism”.
A resourceful Spaeny is a marvellous alternative to Sigourney Weaver, who played Ripley across the first four Alien movies. But alongside her, the cast is fresh and exciting, particularly Jonsson, who plays Andy superbly (going from timid to something more sinister). Visually, the film neatly captures the worn-down look of the Alien films, thanks to production designer Naaman Marshall, while Benjamin Wallfisch’s throbbing score is propulsive. The best blockbuster this summer, Alien: Romulus is also the best Alien movie in nearly forty years.
From Queen Elizabeth I to Bob Dylan in his electric era to The Lord of the Rings’ ethereal Galadriel, two-time Oscar-winner Cate Blanchett can do no wrong. And so she proves again in Eli Roth’s Borderlands, a rambunctious adaptation of the popular videogame series from Gearbox Software.
It’s not often that the chameleon-like Australian star graces blockbusters, although she was glorious as a Russian villain in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull and Hela in Marvel movie Thor: Ragnarok. Here, guns at the ready, she’s Lilith, the red-haired anti-heroine at the heart of this madcap sci-fi that owes a lot of its energy to another MCU title, Guardians of the Galaxy.
Set in a decaying futuristic far-away world, Lilith is a lone wolf bounty hunter who gets hired by Atlas (Édgar Ramírez), the head of a sophisticated weapons company, to find his daughter. Affectionately known as Tiny Tina (Barbie’s Ariana Greenblatt), this girl has been kidnapped by one of his own men, Roland (Kevin Hart).
After a little arm-twisting, Lilith jets off to the dilapidated Pandora, a planet she knows from her own murky past, where she soon locates her target. Trouble is, Tina doesn’t want to go home – what with her father desperate to use her to help locate something only known as The Vault.
With Lilith, Tina and Roland joining forces, they’re accompanied by a robot named Claptrap (voiced by Jack Black) and the musclebound Krieg (Creed II’s Florian Muneanu), as they progress through Pandora. Much in the way a gamer might pick their way through levels, there are keys to collect and puzzles to solve.
Director Roth (Hostel, Thanksgiving) and his team do a fine job of recreating Pandora in all its grimness, a planet that is over-populated by marauding psychos and creatures known as Threshers. There’s even an appearance by Jamie Lee Curtis as a scientist who lends a helping hand, as this ragtag group look to survive this hot toxic mess.
Along the way, there are some exhilarating action scenes – not least one race through Pandora’s rocky roads that puts a new definition on the phrase ‘monster truck’. Intriguingly, comic star Hart plays it straight as the hardcore action hero, something he pulls off with aplomb, while Greenblatt has a field day as the explosive, dynamite-chucking Tiny Tina. Best of all, Blanchett is on fire as Lilith – yet another killer role to add to her considerable collection.
In 2008 Fremont, teen Chris Wang (Izaac Wang) is living his summer before he starts high school in a liminal space; vacillating between friendship groups, loathing/loving his older sister, desperate/terrified to have his first kiss, rejecting his heritage but ultimately comforted by it. As he negotiates his world via MySpace, his flip phone and house parties, Chris tries on identities. He’s ‘Dìdi’ at home to his mother and grandma, ‘Wang Wang’ who ‘Wu-tangs’ his spliffs to his bros, a boy who likes chick-flicks to the object of his affection, ‘Asian Chris’ to a skate group he attempts to befriend as a videographer and all manner of hateful names to his screaming sis who’s about to leave home for college. All he really wants from his summer is for his mum to stop being ‘so Asian’ and his crush, Madi (Mahaela Park), to be his girl. But inopportune erections, friendship wipeouts and drunkenness are going to cause acute embarrassment and failure…
Developed by writer/director Sean Wang as part of the Sundance Institute film programme and winner of the audience award at this year’s festival, Dìdi is a semi-autobiographical confection loaded with equal parts nostalgia and cringe. Based on Wang’s own upbringing (his real-life grandmother plays Dìdi’s), it’s a study of teenage awkwardness through a lens of compassion that evokes comparisons with Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade. But it’s also a film that explores the immigrant experience in America via Chris’ interactions with his mom (played with beautiful subtly by Joan Chen). A woman bringing her children up alone with a judgey mother-in-law and broken dreams of her own, Mrs Wang reacts to everyday racism where Chris does not, eats her Big Mac with a knife and fork despite his admonishments and delivers a heartfelt, tender affirmation of him at his lowest point that recalls the tear-inducing speech from father to son in Call Me By Your Name. In this way, Wang’s film absolutely sings to those who will recognise the signifiers of Chris’ specific time and place (Livestrong wristbands, indigo braces, AOL, watching Superbad at pool parties) but will also chime with parents who have endured the cruelties of bratty teens in any era. Equally, the visceral feeling of self-consciousness and angst as an adolescent is one that is (painfully) universal.
Sweet and salty in equal measure, Wang’s expertly curated time-capsule serves as a poignant reminder to parents and children alike that everyone of every generation is simply trying their best to grow into their own approximation of a decent adult. And that that journey is a life-long one.
Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds have been playing social media frenemies since their characters met in 2009’s X-Men Origins so it was only ever a matter of time before the duo did their faux sniping and trash-talking on the big screen. Obviously, since X-Men, Deadpool and Wolverine have been through the wringer, both narratively and corporately – with the ‘Merc With The Mouth’ staging a rebirth driven by Reynolds and Wolverine popping his clogs in James Mangold’s elegant send-off Logan in 2017. Now, Deadpool’s shepherd, Reynolds, is going to assume audiences rocking up for a third instalment of R-rated humour and violence will be up to speed in Disney’s takeover of Fox, comic book lore and the personal lives of its stars – ‘I’m telling Blake’ he says of his real-life wife, and makes cracks about Jackman’s divorce. Like Deadpool himself, this mash-up is fast, loose and takes no prisoners.
So where do we find Wade Wilson this time around? In a pre-title sequence that sets the tone, Deadpool is digging up Wolverine’s grave, breaking the fourth wall and swearing up a storm when he only finds his adamantium skeleton. This soon leads to bloody hell and an explanation; in an exposition-heavy flashback (which Deadpool naturally acknowledges) we discover that the TVA (seen most prominently in the Loki TV series) are messing with timelines again, forcing Deadpool to try to set the universe right by hopping the multiverse and interacting with variants in each dimension. That means multiple versions of Wolverine (all grumpy and soused), Deadpool (Dogpool, Lady Deadpool and more) and alt-universe superheroes cameoed by famous faces. At the heart of the matter is the timeline junkyard, ‘the void’, presided over by Emma Corrin’s Cassandra Nova – a baddie with links to Charles Xavier, the ability to stick fingers into brains and a kick-ass wardrobe. Unwillingly, Wolverine must accompany Deadpool on a journey that takes in forgotten superheroes, self sacrifice, ironic needledrops, slo-mo team-ups and a lot of dick jokes to find peace.
Though the uninitiated might struggle to get every in-joke zinger and easter egg, Marvel fans will enjoy the ride, perhaps obeying Deadpool when he instructs them to use their ‘special sock’ for some of the frenetic action set pieces. No spoilers, but the cameos are genuinely thrilling callbacks, a fight in a minivan is a cracker (complete with a Greatest Showman hat-tip), Matthew Macfadyen is Tom Wambsgan-witheringly excellent as a TVA suit, the chemistry between Reynolds and Jackman genuinely heartwarming and the end credits BTS and EPK footage a true nostalgia hit. And though there’s numerous digs about Jackman coming out of Wolvie-retirement, the gravitas and soul he brings to proceedings is the true heart of the piece and warrants the grave robbing. (Of course, any tear in the eye is dissipated by Deadpool criticising an oiled up, topless Jackman for getting out his ‘greasy tits’.)
Juvenile, daft, irreverent and sentimental, Deadpool is a messy riot. As the boy themselves say; ‘Let’s f***ing go!’
