A BIG BOLD BEAUTIFUL JOURNEY. Coming so soon after Splitsville and my rapturous reception thereof, this one might seem like something of a non-starter. It is, after all, high romantic fantasy in a decidedly old-fashioned vein. A meet-cute expanded into a could-be/never-was trip down the varyingly painful lanes of memory, it plays a little like one of Max Fischer’s stage-bound fantasias as re-imagined by someone a little more worldly. On the face of it, the whole thing might seem a little precious, a saccharine creation wedged into the sourness of actual adult existence. And while it is, at least to some extent, it also transcends the trappings and potential traps of modern cinematic fabulism with a care and devotion to its emotional realism that is too frequently absent.
Much of that success is down to director Kogonada (Columbus, 2017; After Yang, 2021) who has been quietly building a catalog of emotionally exploratory, formally elegant movies in a style reflective of cinema history largely unexplored by his contemporaries. After Yang was my first exposure to Kogonada’s work, and I was as impressed by its quietly revolutionary evocations of a potential future as by its almost overwhelming humanity and sensitivity. I didn’t realize at the time (no excuse) that he rose to prominence as a film scholar, transitioning from a doctorate in film studies to constructing insightful, beautiful visual essays about the works of some of the 20th century’s canonized grandmasters to making scripted features of his own. More simply put, he’s a lot smarter about the movies than I’ll ever be, and he has studied them maybe as closely as anybody.
As such, his scripted work is infused with a knowledge of its influences that allows potentially simplistic, even clichéd scenarios to be elevated into something greater than their premises. In After Yang, for example, the death of a future-family’s robot becomes a study in epistemology and identity, where, handled with only a little less deftness and intelligence, it could have fallen apart into failed, maudlin futurism.
Similarly, A Big Bold Beautiful Journey, written by Seth Reiss (The Menu, 2022) travels along a hair’s-breadth tightrope of potentially uncomfortable sentimentality stretched between post-modern romantic comedy and classic Hollywood musical. It is indeed big and bold, painted broadly in primary colors and self-reflective jokes about 1990s America, but it is also firmly grounded in the old-school work of scene study, production design and cinematography.
As the story begins, David (Colin Farrell) is on his way to a wedding. He finds his car ticketed and booted on a city street, but a fortuitous, humble little flyer directs him to the Car Rental Agency, a deeply strange, quasi-magical enterprise operated by a sailor-cursing cashier (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) with a phony German accent and a taciturn mechanic (Kevin Kline) who seem to know more about David than they should.
Despite his misgivings, David rents the 1994 Saturn (the only vehicle on offer) complete with sentient GPS. He makes his way to the wedding, through pouring rain on a brightly sunny day, where he meets Sarah (Margot Robbie). He declines her invitation to dance at the reception, which leads him into a brief but potent shame spiral. On his return trip, his GPS directs him to a travel plaza Burger King, where the two encounter one another again and set off, through a series of magical doors, on an exploration of their individual pasts and conjoined present.
Gradually, as the two uneasily begin to reveal their inner selves, we learn about some of the most formative events in their lives, and about how they have arrived in this moment, as people who are deeply alone but perhaps unable to acknowledge their loneliness.
A Big Bold Beautiful Journey is as grounded in the transition from theater to film as it is in the explosion of Technicolor, a staunchly self-aware throwback as clearly written by a ’90s kid as it is directed by a scholar. I can’t help but wonder if, in balancing itself between old-school New York-style acting and less old-school adolescent heartbreak and tough-talk, it will find a wide audience, but I hope it can. Because in refusing to bow to the conventions it serves (and was influenced by), it’s creating something new, fusing never-before availa ble technology with established technique to advance the language of contemporary cinema and romantic storytelling.
At another (any other?) time in my life it may well have been too sweet by half, but in my dotage, I find it as charming as it is fascinating, a delicate work of craft that examines the intersection of cynicism and optimism with an unjaundiced eye. And it doesn’t hurt that Farrell and Robbie are and have been two of the most charming screen actors we’ve got; watching them get vulnerable with each other, if we can set aside our jadedness, is really something. R. 108M. BROADWAY.
John J. Bennett (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase.
NOW PLAYING
THE CONJURING: LAST RITES. One last exorcism for the road. R. 135M. BROADWAY.
DEMON SLAYER: KIMETSU NO YAIBA INFINITY CASTLE. The Demon Slayer Corps in an animated action adventure. R. 155 mins. BROADWAY, MINOR.
DOWNTON ABBEY: THE GRAND FINALE. Keeping up with the Crawleys on the big screen. PG. 123M. BROADWAY, MINOR.
GABBY’S DOLLHOUSE: THE MOVIE. Semi-animated adventure with a girl (Laila Lockhart Kraner) on the hunt for the magical dollhouse an evil cat lady (Kristen Wiig) stole from her. G. 98M. BROADWAY.
HIM. Because CTE and corporate-backed racism aren’t scary enough, here’s a pro-football horror movie with demons and such. R. 96M. BROADWAY.
THE LONG WALK. Young men embark on a dystopian death march in a FitBit nightmare from Stephen King. R. 108M. BROADWAY.
ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER. Locally filmed comedy/action/drama with Leonardo DiCaprio in Humboldt drag as an ex-revolutionary single dad searching for his daughter. R. 161M. BROADWAY, MINOR.
THE STRANGERS: CHAPTER 2. Horror sequel with randos in masks doing random murder but also chasing a survivor. R. 96M. BROADWAY.
For showtimes, call Broadway Cinema (707) 443-3456, Minor Theatre (707) 822-3456.
This article appears in Red-Light Women, Part I.