Skeleton Twins, starring Saturday Night Live alumni Kristen Wiig and Bill Hader, is very much a film in the Mark Duplass camp of naturalistic filmmaking. Scenes of languid (hinting at mumblecore) dialogue are interspersed with gorgeous shots of urban landscapes, bookended by lush pastoral scenery. This is a film about contemplation.

Following a failed suicide attempt, Milo (Hader) accepts his estranged twin sister Maggie’s (Wiig) invitation to live with her and her husband Lance (played by the beautifully understated, yet most definitely appreciated, Luke Wilson). Of course, there are deep-seated personal issues and twisted mentalities which drive the conflict, which seem to run far deeper than what is really fleshed out on screen. Skeleton Twins is a master in the art of subtlety. The film has a ridiculous amount of exposition under its belt, but all the backstories, motivations and sordid histories are addressed in fluid motions. The film never grinds to a halt to cram information down your throat, but by the end, you’ll find yourself fitting together these tidbits of information, like puzzle pieces you’ve unconsciously been collecting over time.

Of course, the film’s main draw is its two leads. Hader and Wiig have spent the good part of a decade under the heat lamp of New York City sketch comedy. The two have developed a rapport so organic and genuine that it’s a legitimate pleasure to watch their chemistry bubble on screen. Not only do they appear convincingly as twins with a complex history behind them, but they also portray siblings who know one another down to their smallest flaws and most endearing ticks. One particular scene, which involves nothing more than the two sharing a hysterical laughing fit, is guaranteed to leave the dopiest grin hanging lopsided from your face. Skeleton Twins is a film that doesn’t try to be funny. It doesn’t need to be. It exudes its warm humour from beneath a cold layer of brutal cynicism.

Another aspect of the film that deserves merit is Hader’s portrayal of Milo, who happens to be gay, but that is not his defining characteristic. Everything about him—his snark, his egotism, his genuine sibling care and worldly naiveté, even his response to typical Hollywood cinematic scenarios – these are elements of his character which successfully avert clichés.

Now, this isn’t a film without its flaws. While Wiig’s chemistry with her fellow actors is almost flawless, it’s evident her strength lies more in comedic acting. There are occasional moments where one may be pulled out of the film by her careful, desperate to please, dramatic intention. Her voice assumes the tone of a soul weathered by too many Wes Anderson films.

However, this is a ridiculously minute nitpick of what is an incredible film. Those expecting a simple, serious vehicle for the former SNL stars will leave feeling a lot more wholesome and a lot less jaded in this wistful world of ours.

4/5 stars

The plot of this film is relatively simple; Pomme is a woman somewhere in her late 40s/early 50s struggling to keep her strained marriage with Pierre (Mathieu Amalric) from completely deteriorating into a puddle of super cool French loathing. In addition, she’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay relevant and wanted in the life of her son from another relationship; a spunky young student who drinks wine and lives with his girlfriend.

To ensure that we feel sympathy for our protagonist, the film proceeds down the Bridget Jones ‘woe-is-me’ route, establishing her as the 21st century woman hated by life, the universe and everything. She’s clumsy, awkward, barely able to fit into her jeans, recovering from a tumour, facing pressure from her boss at work, competing against her  husband’s beautiful blonde colleague for his affection, and to top things off, is still lacking the respect of her friends and family. While this move is successful in establishing Pomme’s rut, it has the adverse effect of damaging the credibility of her character and those we are supposed to believe are her closest confidantes. How is it possible for someone like Pomme to function with such a abusive network around her, and why has she not yet packed up her bags and started a new non-terrible life?

Pomme’s life reaches a literal crossroad on a routine hike. Following a heated argument with Pierre, she finds herself having to choose between either returning to the car with her husband, or abandoning him and continuing her way through the forest. It is here that she finds herself making her first defiant act, leaving him to head home while she remains alone in the wilderness.

While Pomme struggles in the cold and tries to convince rabbits to cook themselves, Fillières sets in motion a subtle transformation of these characters for the better. Dynamics change as we gain sympathy and respect for individuals already set in stone.

Faced with this crisis of separation, his wife missing somewhere in the forest, Pierre sheds his thick sardonic skin and develops into a real human; panicked and oozing concern. Mathieu Amalric, in the film’s third act, demonstrates a gorgeously understated internal shift in acting. His charm fades, his eyes soften, and his characters starts to assume a soft vulnerability.

In this turmoil of being lost and discovering oneself, the film finds itself lingering on moments of solitude and introspection, be they outward gazes from a silent taxi or lone figures weaving through bustling crowds. Here, If You Don’t, I Will manages to drop its pretensions and become a real character study of desperation and maturation.

It is now that the film becomes an immensely more enjoyable experience, as we watch these characters find footing in the real world. While it’s not a totally consistent ride, this transformation we witness Pomme and Pierre undergo is rewarding enough to warrant If You Don’t, I Will a viewing.

3/5 stars

This is not a scathing indictment of the film, not in the slightest. Rather, this is an acknowledgment of Tully’s immense love and nostalgia for a sun-bleached cultural and societal epoch that a good portion of society may not have lived through, but will themselves end up yearning for after riding this Super 16mm time machine.

Our protagonist, 13-year-old Radford ‘Rad’ Miracle (the acting debut of the awkwardly charming Marcello Conte), is the typical fish out of water, ready to spend his summer vacation with his family in Ocean City, Maryland; the embodiment of ’80s washed out Americana, replete with babes, boardwalk, and billboards. There, he is befriended by Teddy Fryy (Myles Massey), a charming and hilarious character in his own right, yet an obvious throwback to the token black kid of the ‘racially diverse’ ’80s. With his afro, short-shorts, penchant for freestyle rapping, aloof father, and origins in Detroit, Teddy’s friendship with Rad even evokes such obvious nicknames as Ebony & Ivory and Ivory & Ivory. Aspects of race and racism in the ’80s are addressed by Tully, through the hostility of bullies, in a manner which marks the time without being preachy.

Add to the mix Stacy Summers (Emmi Shockley), the beautiful babe with the heart of gold, and Lyle Ace (Joseph McCaughtry), the douche bag rich kid who is perfect at everything, and you have yourself a basic never-ending, teen summer, coming-of-age story that takes a back seat to everything else plastered on the wall.

Let’s not forget the titular sport itself, table tennis, or as tha kidz are calling it, ping pong. This ain’t your granddaddy’s ping pong. Rather, the characters treat the sport, and the filmmakers shoot the sequences themselves, like one might approach death racing or Russian roulette. The film, without a doubt, features the most intense high-stakes game of ping pong you could possibly imagine played in front of a crowd full of children, accompanied by the dopest synth beats.

Tully does not seek to reinvent anything already established in this concrete cultural institution. Rather, Ping Pong Summer shows signs of a filmmaker who loves his craft, his era, and the insanity of its flaws. Throughout the film, there lies a subtle undercurrent of irony which occasionally bursts out in shameless intention. This comes in the form of ridiculous freeze-frames, digital zooms, and the soundtrack (oh lord the soundtrack). In addition, Ping Pong Summer showcases gorgeous cinematography shot with a Super 16mm film stock to create an engrossing composition defined by luscious colours and rich grain.

Viewers at first may be put off by the overall stiffness of the acting amongst the young cast, with gawky delivery and awkward chemistry ready to induce a cringe like nobody’s business. However, over time, this simply becomes another badge of honour worn by the film, contributing to its overall tone, resembling a genuine relic of times gone by, featuring cheesy lines and even cheesier expressions.

The cheese isn’t the only relic of the ’80s on display, with Lea Thompson (of Back to the Future legend) cast as Rad Miracle’s mother, an added measure to ensure we drown under that sweet ocean of nostalgia. With a main cast comprised of such young actors, the film’s marketing has relied on older stars to attract audiences. However, it’s best not to be deceived. Susan Sarandon and, to an even greater extent, Amy Sedaris play rather minor parts in the scheme of things, which is not a letdown of any sorts. These characters work to establish a sense of reality in this universe, a counterpart to the absolute insanity of youth. Susan Sarandon, in particular, assumes the Mr Miyagi type role in the film, just with a lot more alcohol and fish.

Ultimately, the film is brought down by its rushed ending. Though some may appreciate its succinct tying of all loose ends, many will remain gobsmacked in their seats, scratching their heads and thinking aloud, “Was that it?” And even if that may be it, it does little to detract from the immensely enjoyable experience that is Ping Pong Summer.

4/5 stars