Fantastic Fest 2021: "Last Night In Soho" A Stylishly Beguiling Mess
Fantastic Fest delighted its audience with their first secret screening of the festival, the U.S. premiere of Edgar Wright’s Last Night In Soho. This soggy, neon-glazed psychological horror/comedy is a stylishly slick visual feast that transports viewers to the swinging 60s of London’s West End, but it unfortunately fails to do much else.
An aspiring fashion designer is mysteriously able to enter the 1960s where she encounters a dazzling wannabe singer. But the glamour is not all it appears to be and the dreams of the past start to crack and splinter into something darker.
Last Night In Soho is Edgar Wright’s most complex and ambitious film to date, and consequently, it’s also the weakest film he’s ever made. As much as he comes into his own here stylistically, he bites off a bit more than he can narratively chew. The film wants to explore the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia and the stark reality that’s obscured by their rosy tint, the relationship between men and women (both in modern times and in 60s London) with an emphasis on misogyny and toxic masculinity, as well as how dreams are crushed or achieved.
Wright and co-writer Krysty Wilson-Cairns are unable to juggle the many themes and ideas they infuse into their winding tale about the ghosts of the past. They are pulled in too many directions, and they fail to bring everything together in a sharp enough way that penetrates the surface. It’s clear that they’re wanted to shatter the glass of the male gaze, but Soho’s perceived triumphs ring a bit too hollow. When you get down to it, Wright and Wilson-Cairns just don’t have anything new or profound to say.
The film takes the shape of a delirious fish-out-of-water story with light touches of supernatural Giallo, ghost story, and murder mystery elements, but it’s hardly a horror film. It’s more mood than anything, and it’s never scary. It plays like a loose-gripped psychological thriller with a few good jump scares and moments of tension, but it’s as smooth, energetic, clean, and snappy as you’d expect an Edgar Wright joint to be. It just burns unevenly and doesn’t deliver the goods in the ways other Wright films do. Its swinging swagger eclipses its soft and silly story, and just leaves you feeling a bit underwhelmed once its spectacle wears thin.
It is quite the spectacle though, and it’s bolstered by excellent performances, chic costumes, elegant set design, and solid needle drops. There’s plenty of movement, choreography, and stunning mirror gags (all done in-camera for the most part) to keep you entertained while it plods along, and its moody atmospherics, which recall the neon-soaked nightmares of Dario Argento, are intoxicating enough to keep you under its spell. Its transportive quality is one of its strongest assets, and it evokes a feeling similar to Tarantino’s Once Upon A Time … In Hollywood or Woody Allen’s Midnight In Paris.
Within this dazzlingly bloated mess, Wright captures some moments of absolute magic. In particular, the first time we step into the streets of 60s London through a sprawling reveal is breathtaking. Anya Taylor-Joy also sings an a cappella version of “Downtown” that rivals the enchantment of Audrey Heburn’s “Moon River” from Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Taylor-Joy also lent her wonderful voice to Steven Price’s score, which captures the feeling of that Ennio Morricone instilled in early giallo films like What Have You Done To Solange?, Lizard In A Woman’s Skin, or The Bird With The Crystal Plumage.
All of the performances are fantastic. Thomasin McKenzie practically carries the film on her delicate shoulders, delivering a performance that’s not too dissimilar to her role in Leave No Trace, with Anya Taylor-Joy appearing in haute couture to hypnotize us with allure. The film also serves as a strong swan song for Diana Rigg (for whom the film is dedicated), but its male roles breed issues. Terence Stamp is a bit underutilized, Matt Smith’s villainous character is a bit too two-dimensional, and Michael Ajao’s sweet, sincere anecdote to the toxically masculine comes with its own set of issues.
Overall, it’s a silly, yet enjoyable film that marks a notable shift for Wright. He makes bold choices and goes big, but the payoff feels small in comparison to the effort. Soho might be Wright’s weakest and least fun film, but that isn’t saying too much He continues to make energetic and entertaining films that are consistent in what they deliver. It’s just that despite its maturity and glistening sheen, Soho pales in comparison to the heartfelt wink of Wright’s early satires.
Recommendation: Last Night In Soho’s style, performances and transportive quality make it worth a watch, but end results will vary, and they’ll most likely run lukewarm or cold.
Rating: 3 blasts from the past outta 5.
What do you think? We want to know. Share your thoughts and feelings in the comments section below, and as always, remember to viddy well!