Directed by:
Edgar WrightCinematography:
Chung-hoon ChungComposer:
Steven PriceCast:
Thomasin McKenzie, Anya Taylor-Joy, Matt Smith, Diana Rigg, Terence Stamp, Synnøve Karlsen, Lisa McGrillis, Rita Tushingham, Michael Jibson, Andrew Bicknell (more)VOD (3)
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Edgar Wright’s psychological thriller about a young girl, passionate in fashion design, who is mysteriously able to enter the 1960s where she encounters her idol, a dazzling wannabe singer. But 1960s London is not what it appears, and time seems to fall apart with shady consequences... (Finnkino)
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Reviews (14)
Last Night in Soho drew me to the cinema thanks to an enticing trailer and an even more enticing cast, so I went to the screening quite excited. At first, I found the film to be an average psychological thriller about delusions and demons of the past, but then the plot began to pick up and the suspense wasn't so much about the thrills as it was about unraveling the mystery set up. Even though I know that "the killer is the butler", the makers still managed to keep me guessing almost to the end, making me enjoy both plot twists all the more. Once again, I have to praise the excellent casting, as well as the 1960s art style and the visuals of the "ghosts". In the end, it's not a pure four stars, but in this case I'll add it.
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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%.
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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.
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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.
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With Scott Pilgrim I considered it part of the game, with Baby Driver I couldn't put my finger on it, and with Last Night in Soho it started to get downright annoying. It's that musical staginess drenched in studio lights, its artificiality accelerated by a digital camera with a high frame rate. If it's worked so far in Wright's previous films, it's because they were kind of musicals in the first place, except that Last Night in Soho has its entire plot built on trying to evoke the spirit of the Swingin' London era, and in this case you can have a wardrobe full of period dresses and tons of period props strewn about the studio, but it's still a totally obvious crying game. Logically, then, what works is one great dance sequence and the amazing Thomasin McKenzie, what doesn't work is, eh, well... the rest of the film. And Matt Smith doesn’t know how to inhale. I appreciate the very original twist that the main monster is actually the patriarchy, which I saw six times in genre films last year alone.
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