Tenet

Ohmigosh, it's a new movie...in a THEATER!

En-tropical Adventure ("Well, Try and Keep Up")
or
We Live in a Twilight World ("And There Are No Friends who Understand This Movie, Either")

Christopher Nolan finally gets to do his "James Bond" movie, but—being Christopher Nolan—it had to be with a twist. In this case it's the twist you find in a möbius strip for his "Yeah, you can only release this in theaters" spy/sci-fi hybrid Tenet.

And, yeah, at least for the first four/five viewings, it should only be seen in theaters. Having access to a "Rewind" button would only confuse the issue. Plus, the details...the details...some things will get lost on a small screen given some of the intricacies going on, and at times the film is so disorienting that a large screen will make you a bit more sure of what you're seeing.

Nolan likes to stretch the underpinnings of his movies, fracturing time-lines, setting up nesting dolls of narratives, and investigating the possibilities of the image and editing while maintaining a forward momentum. Here, though, he has it both ways.

The film begins with a terrorist attack on a Ukrainian opera house, the perpetrators appearing from the stage as if part of the performance. How they planned all this without somebody noticing off-site that a major counter-terrorist operation was being set up in the general area is one of those post-"Dark Knight" "just-go-with-it" sleights of hand that directors have been taking advantage of when going for spectacle rather than logic. But, Tenet is so full of such things that it would be better to switch one's mind off if one is to experience any enjoyment out of this.

During this sequence, Nolan has one train going forward and one back.
It's a sort of subliminal training for what we're about to see.

 

The operation is two-fold: the extraction of a personage from the scene and the retrieval of stolen plutonium and the situation is so dire that the agent we're focused on—played by John David Washington—basically has to make it up as he goes along. During the raid, he comes to understand that the plutonium is not as it appears and that, at some point, he is nearly shot by a bullet coming out of one of the auditorium steps. Part of his team is captured, and, rather than give anything away, he takes a cyanide pill. He dies.

Short movie.

He wakes up...from a medically-induced coma. He's told that he survived the cyanide...that his jaw has been rebuilt*...but he is officially "dead" and he is to recover and has been chosen for a special assignment as his willingness to take the pill rather than give away secrets makes him a valuable asset. A further briefing tells him there WAS no cyanide...("eh?"), but that his devotion and the planned mission are real. He is given a gesture—interlocking fingers—and the word "Tenet" ("It'll open the right doors. Some of the wrong ones, too" he's told in the evasive generalized way that passes for exposition in the film). 

"Is 'bunjee-jumpable' a word?"

He's taken to a facility—for a second briefing—of what his next assignment (his first as a dead man) is, more specifically what the mechanics of the assignment entails. Turns out the issue isn't plutonium, but a possible WWIII is the end-game. This turns out, also, not to be true, not in the strictest sense, but a world-ending scenario is involved. He is shown what caused that little surprise of the backwards-bullet at the Kiev Opera House was all about: that bullet was manufactured in the future with a technology that allows it to move backwards through time by means of its own inverted entropy. If that's confusing, the scientist studying the ammunition has a handy piece of non-advice that will work for the viewer: "Don't try to understand it. Feel it." Especially when you point a weapon and the bullet jumps back into the gun. The kick-back must be intense.

Already, this is a little headache-inducing. But, it would help if we recall an episode of "The Big Bang Theory" (Season 3 Episode 22—"The Staircase Implementation") and Section 9 from Dr. Sheldon Cooper's Roommate Agreement: If one of the roommates ever invents Time Travel, the first stop has to aim exactly five seconds after this clause of the Roommate Agreement was signed. "Well, that's disappointing..." is Sheldon's reply when nobody shows up. If you laugh at that, you might be alright.

Our Man in Confusion meets up with a British intelligence operative, Neil (Robert Pattinson), who helps him meet up with an arms dealer who gives him the low-down—the man who's behind (or in front of) all this reverse-entropy stuff is a Russian oligarch named Andrei Sator (Kenneth Branagh) who has seen the future and wants to exploit it to his own ends. The Protagonist (as he's called in the credits, but the arms-dealer tells him "You're the fresh-faced Protagonist, and you're as fresh as a daisy" so I will call him "Daisy") is told that he can get to Sator through his wife, Kat (Elizabeth Debicki), who is kept in a bad marriage by her error in selling Sator a fake Goya. 

That is all the story I want to relate, because at this point...or later...or earlier (I'm not sure which) my understanding—or my willingness to understand—started to get a little hazy. My appreciation for what I was seeing didn't dampen, because the logistics and the talent to pull these things off (imagine if you will a "Bourne" type fight where one fighter is moving forwards and "the other" is moving backwards) and you begin to shake your head in wonder at the logistics needed to imagine, let alone carry off, such a sequence. There's a chase down a freeway involving cars moving forwards and backwards that is as twisty and GPS-frying as all get-out, and the final showdown with troops advancing and retreating (backwards) simultaneously has to be seen to believe.

"What happened here?" "It hasn't happened yet."

Or not. One of the stipulations for the production of Tenet is that all the explosions and practical effects had to be practical—in other words, no CGI—things had to really happen. So, yes, troops are running forwards into battle-areas where explosions are reverse-sucking into the ground. Fights happen forward and in reverse. Why, Branagh even had to learn to speak backwards (with a Russian accent, yet...or "nyet"). It's all done for real, so that when things are reversed, it's the real deal backwards. This still produces a feeling of visual deja vu, where you begin to suspect everything of being reversed...at least looking for tell-tale wisps of smoke not rising, but falling.

It's happening...

It's disorienting...like a kind of "magical seeing" where thinking doesn't come into it because that would lead to some sort of synaptic anarchy that would make you distrust the simple action of putting popcorn in your mouth. At one point, "Daisy" is seen doing his customary pull-ups on a ship going backwards—he's been reversed temporally but the ships are going forwards, obviously, because that is what they do. But, from our perspective (which is constantly his) the ships are going backwards, reversing into their own wakes. Okay, but if he's inverted and doing everything backwards, what does he eat? How does he eat?Is there enough negative entropic infrastructure that they have entropic meals? At least, reverse Tang? And if everything he experiences is working backwards, I don't even want to think about how the toilets work!

Kenneth Branagh counting backwards...or is it forwards?

This leads to an audience-disconnect where you begin to suspect everything in the film of being untrue...or at least, the natural order of things. The Daniel Craig Bond's have made an entire through-line of its hero learning not to trust anything, not even his past...but, at least, he's still got his senses. Most movies endeavor—from their core—to create a belief in their reality; "Ignore the crewman out of frame with the pastry in his hand, this is true." Yes, there is music—from an unseen orchestra—and we're directing your point of view, so you don't see the reality we don't want you to see, but we're trying to make this as real as possible. Nolan is making as radical a move in breaking "the rules" as when Hitchcock killed off his leading lady half-way through Psycho: He's trying to make the "real" fantastical, in a way the Wachowski's with their computers couldn't with the Matrix movies.

It is mind-bending. And revolutionary. But, then Nolan has always played with the rules and mechanics of film, both in terms of story-telling and in its expectations. He can leave an audience gob-smacked...and deceived. Sometimes both, simultaneously.

Here's the same car-flip backwards and forwards...hope they called insurance before.

I don't know how advisable it is to question or not question the mechanics of what goes on here. In an era of "deep-fakes," one should always be suspicious of "face-value" and just not take things as they appear. Nor, can I interpret the measure of enjoyment you'll have in the movie if it doesn't make any sense. "Seeing is believing" is the old saw, and though I accepted the images, there was the doubter in my mind that kept kibitzing through the movie saying "that just wouldn't work." The answer, in retort, is to recall Hitchcock's rejoinder—"it's only a moovie."  

At least, Tenet is entertaining enough that you don't want to re-live those 2 1/2 hours...backwards or forwards.

Here's a shot from the battle-climax of Tenet:
Take a moment and think about what you're seeing here.
It looks spectacular...but is it possible?

* Yeah, that's usually not how potassium cyanide works—unless you've seen Skyfall.

Yesterday

The Most Complicated Joke I've Ever Heard
or
Suddenly/There's No Beatles Iconography
OR
Drinking From the Poisoned Chalice (To Lead a Better Life/I Need My Love To Be Here)

I'll be hitting 64 (as in "Will You Still Need Me/Will You Still Feed Me...") in another week or so, and, having been born in 1955, I am very familiar with The Beatles ("for you youngsters out there"—as Ed Sullivan used to patronize—their Beatlemania hey-day was between 1962 and 1970, my adolescent-teen years). For me, the experiences of my parents during The Great Depression (1929-??) and World War II (1940-1945—we used to have shorter, more efficient wars back then, and a citizenry who weren't complacent with the practice) seemed "of the past" and ancient history. So, I imagine talking about "The Beatles" will seem, to a contemporary audience, like my folks talking about Rudy Vallee. 

Well, tough. The Beatles were a "Big Deal." Revolutionary to those of us who were used to hearing Elvis and The Four Seasons on the radio. That The Beatles built their music on American rockabilly and their version—"skiffle"—didn't make them any less revolutionary. What seems revolutionary is often, upon examination, merely evolutionary—built on what came before. But, the group then took it and changed music, changed what "pop" was, expanding it, twisting it, experimenting with it and going from "Yeah, yeah, yeah" to "Goo-goo-ga-joob."

The new film by director Danny Boyle and screenwriter Richard Curtis (there's an oil-and-water combination for ya), Yesterday proposes a big "What If?" story: what if The Beatles never existed? It's easy to imagine—it's easy if you try—what if John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Richard Starkey never hooked up. I once had a conversation with a radio host of a Beatles program where we concluded that that particular combination of kids with their personalities, interests, drives and talents created what amounted to a "perfect storm" of musical creativity. But, perfect storms are rare. The conditions and factors have to be just right. What if original drummer Pete Best stayed with the group? Would they have been as good, as popular, would they have achieved the original nexus they had and the hysterical acclaim they generated if any of the elements were missing? Probably not. The world would be a different place slightly, as The Beatles influenced music, ideas, fashion and culture. Boyle and Curtis could not have made a film of all the possible ramifications. So, they have a sliver of the possibilities for their rom-com/musical.

Jack Malek (Himesh Patel) is a busker. It's his hobby as it really doesn't supplement his income as a warehouse-stocker at PriceStar. It's a bit of a dream-chase—he was considered musically talented at the age of 9, the performance which brought him together with his long-time platonic companion/roadie/manager Elly (Lilly James). But Jack is at the end of his guitar-string. A chance to play at the Latitude Festival in Suffolk results in his playing in a thinly-occupied tent. "Great day," encourages Elly. "Yeah!" Jack agrees, sarcastically "I really can't take much more of this."

But, driving him home—she teaches "maths" and has a car and he rides a bike—Elly tries to be encouraging: "Miracles can happen! Like Benedict Cumberbatch becoming a sex symbol!" True dat. But, Jack can't be consoled. "This was my last gig." He bicycles away, accepting his fate.

But, fate can change. As he's biking home in the rain, the entire world experiences a 12 second blackout. And in those 12 seconds, Jack is hit by an SUV, upending his life, giving him a concussion, knocking out two of his front teeth, smashing his guitar and bicycle, and creating a huge opportunity. When he wakes up in hospital, diligent Elly is there to tell him the bad news—bad accident, lost the teeth, lost the beard. She fusses over him, then must leave for her job. "Will you still feed me when I'm 64?" Jack sings after her. She dead-stops in the door-way. "Why 64?" "Well, it's the song, you know..." She doesn't. it's the tip of the iceberg.

At a party upon Jack's release, his friends throw a party and gift him with a new guitar, encouraging him to play again, but he demurs: "If God had been remotely interested in my stuff, somebody would have written me a fan letter besides my mum." But, he will play. "A great gift deserves a great song," and he begins the chords to McCartney's "Yesterday." Finishing it, eyebrows are raised, emotions are moved, and jaws are dropped (and this..."well, it's not Coldplay It's not "Fix You"). "What the hell was that?" It was "Yesterday." "When did you write that?" "I didn't write it. Paul McCartney wrote it! The Beatles!" "Who?" Jack is incredulous...and a bit miffed, thinking that his friends are having fun at his expense. 

But, no, instead of it being "the most complicated joke I've ever heard," a Google search reveals only the bug, not the band. The Rolling Stones are there (wait, their first hit "I Wanna Be Your Man" was written by Lennon and McCartney...but...okay), but no third-letter-"a" "Beatles." They've been Thanos-snapped out of existence. So have a few other things, but I won't spoil it.

"Don't you realize you're the first three people on Earth to hear 'Let It Be?'" "That's nice, sun..."

He tries other songs. People don't know them. He barely knows them-what are the lyrics to "Elanor Rigby?" "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." "I Saw Her Standing There." "Let It Be." All draw a blank. Performing in coffee houses doesn't turn it into The Cavern Club and his close acquaintances are supportive, but think he's getting a bit of a head when he takes offense at them not realizing the greatness of the songs. Seems a bit stuck on himself, really. But only Malek knows the songs are iconic...or would be if they'd been written. And if people assume he's the author...well, what can he do about it?

An engineer at a low-rent recording studio offers to record him (it's gotta be low-rent because it's built on the side of a rail-road track--interference and low-end rumble, much?). But, the tracks attract attention—Malek gives them away at the PriceStar and it gets him an interview on the PriceStar channel, where he's called "The Singing Wholesaler"...even after he's debuted "In My Life" on the program! What is wrong with these people?

But, one person notices the interview—Ed Sheeran (my response was "who?" and after I read about him and listened to a couple of his songs, I repeated "who??"*) and he pops over to Malek's place (actually Malek's parents' place) and asks him to open for him at a concert in Moscow. Opening for Ed Sheeran? Da-ah! What does he open with? "Back in the USSR," of course. Du-uh! And he makes a sensation, and Sheeran is mystified. When did he find the time to write the song? It was only a three hour flight (brilliant touch to call it the old name of USSR, though...but still).

The viral videos out of Russia (they DO get around, don't they?) of Malek's performance attracts the attention of Sheeran's agent, Debra Hammer (a scary and hilarious Kate McKinnon at full satirical strength—be afraid) and she signs Malek on, prompting—Hammer doesn't prompt, exactly—a trip to Los Angeles for a career make-over and "mind-bending meeting of all meetings" to make him The new sensation. 

But, Malek is worried. The marketing emphasis is on his song-writing ability—the debut album is titled "A Man Alone"—and he knows the songs he's acclaimed for are not his own. He fears being exposed world-wide as a fraud and the guilt and shame are starting to make him crack. Plus, Elly has taken up with that recording engineer a long, long time ago (I can tell you from personal experience that THAT doesn't happen...). It begins to feel that the life he's always wanted isn't the life he actually wants. Life's what happens to you when you're busy making other plans (who wrote that? Actually, more to the point, who DID write that?)

"Can we change 'Hey, Jude' to 'Hey, Dude?' Makes more sense, doesn't it?"

Those conflicts, those issues, are what Yesterday is all about, rather than making some grand sci-fi epic about "The Day the Music Disappeared." It is still a "What if..." story, but a more relatable "What if," about choices, career and happiness...and fulfillment.

How does it get resolved? If you have to ask, you haven't seen many movies written by Richard Curtis. Along the way, the absurdities of a public life are skewered and pilloried, as well as those of Corporate Overseers both large and small. The film also takes one very surprising chance that I did not see coming, and may make some consider some sort of heresy (he'd laugh), but I found it a lovely moment in a parallel Universe where choices are important, especially if you're making them yourself.

No Beatles lyrics for that. You can't write 'em all.

The gloriously ecstatic advice-song "She Loves You." 

Now, if Jack had actually listened to this song, he wouldn't have needed the movie.

"Oo-oo-oo-oo-oo!"

* Okay. Give it up to Sheeran for this: