Last Night in Soho

Edgar Wright is a talented director, and unlike other filmmakers who make their own genre and play in their own sandbox, his genre spectrum is diverse, yet miraculously the result is almost always quality filmmaking, and Last Night in Soho is no exception. What we have here is a film that is, quite objectively and in all respects, excellent. If it's supposed to be engaging and funny at the outset, it's engaging and funny; if it's supposed to pique the viewer's curiosity from the first few minutes, it piques their curiosity; and if it's supposed to be bloody gritty, atmospheric, uncomfortable and depressingly schizophrenic, believe me, it is. The first half had me glued to my seat from the opening minutes and for me, it's the best 50 minutes of cinema in a long time because I literally ate up everything and all the components, including the characters, the atmosphere, the colourful audiovisuals and the horror elements were served in absolutely precise doses. The only minor complaint I have is the ending, which to some extent degrades the whole "uplifting" imaginative idea of the film, which from the very beginning seems to be "something more than just an ordinary film", slightly by its ordinariness and to some extent predictability, but it doesn't change the fact that Last Night in Soho is a film I will remember for a long time and few things can get under my skin like that. A full-bodied, depressing, atmospheric to the point of excellence spectacle that scores points not only with the film itself, but for me with perhaps the best movie trailer of all time. Oh, and by the way, Thomasin McKenzie is a treasure. (04/11/2021)

Edgar Wright has made more evenly balanced films than Last Night in Soho, in which Thomasin McKenzie awakens from a nostalgic daydream of 1960s London to a nightmare of disillusion. At any rate, his musical stab at post-#MeToo horror is highly entertaining and original. In fact, it is more original than you would expect from a genre movie that is so enchanted by other genres and undergoes a transformation according to which genre Wright is referencing at the given moment. That transformation is always complete. The stylisation changes along with the heroine’s motivation, goal and place in the narrative. A comedic fish-out-of-water drama in a university setting first becomes an observational movie of someone’s glittering life in swinging London and then an amateur (giallo) detective flick that continually slips into a ghost/zombie/splatter horror movie or a claustrophobic psycho-thriller along the lines of Polanski’s Repulsion. Wright and Krysty Wilson-Cairns managed to incorporate into the story a warning against idealising the past (or rather the attempt to interpret it according to today’s values) somewhat more elegantly than the motif of trauma imprinted on bodies and places. However, I definitely do not think that, with respect to its bold stylisation, the film stigmatises mental illness and sex work, as some foreign reviews accuse it of doing. It is a stylish genre mishmash. It may not work perfectly, but I enjoyed it from the opening to the closing credits. 80%. (03/11/2021)

A thoroughly intoxicating experience that drew me in like few films manage to do. After 14 years, Edgar Wright has made a film that I have nothing to reproach, and above all, the way he made it is breathtaking. Amazing visuals to the rhythm of superbly chosen music, clouds of directorial ideas, a clever (perhaps just a little too literal at the end) screenplay and a fantastic cast, of which Anya Taylor-Joy stands out, but Thomasin McKenzie keeps on her heels with his transformation until he eventually is on par with her, and Matt Smith is, as always, a great choice. I look forward to experiencing it all again. (26/11/2021)

One sort of expects form over substance from Wright, especially in a film that wets both feet in the waters of Giallo, Lynch and the 1960s. Maybe I wouldn't have expected such a big split between the exquisite form and the empty content, but whatever. The hauntingly enchanting hallucinatory atmosphere makes up for a lot of it, likewise with Wright in some places of the first half, which although it's not without its hiccups, it definitely has something (and especially someone) to build on. Unfortunately, though, Wright decided to start grafting some content in the second half and ruined everything, especially during the final 20 minutes, which are unintentionally ridiculous. What is most fascinating about the whole shattering finale is that even the otherwise top-notch form betrays him during it. (04/11/2021)

I like Edgar Wright, but the more serious he gets, the more I have a problem with it. So I'll always prefer Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz to the shallow and over-stylized Baby Driver. And now over Last Night in Soho. His new release reminded me of Guillermo del Toro's Crimson Peak, a horror film that was great in every way, audiovisually and genre-wise. Only that with this one, I felt like the director was fulfilling a dream of his, paying homage to a favorite genre, a favorite era, and a favorite form. And does it brilliantly, as if he had made the whole thing for himself rather than anyone else. On the other hand, Wright's play with color, the great soundtrack, the gorgeous costumes, and his typical audiovisual games from time to time still work great. And Thomasin McKenzie is excellent, with Anya Taylor-Joy not far from her, but it's not enough. With Last Night in Soho Wright makes mostly himself happy, which I wish him well, but I won't applaud him for it. (04/11/2021)