"Bad Times at the El Royale” Review
A priest, a back-up singer, a vacuum cleaner salesman, and a hippie walk into a motel... Sounds like a nice set up where anything can and will happen and the things that do happen are really bad. Enter "Bad Times at the El Royale", a neo-noir Tarantino pastiche. But things are more tongue-in-cheek and less dramatic. What if the cocaine baby of "The Hateful Eight" and "Four Rooms" wrote a premise out of madlibs and performed it as an improv bit that stretched on for two hours and twenty minutes? I didn't I wanted that but here it is. The people who are into it are really into it and the people who aren't will not enjoy it. I happen to be the former.
The big thing that stood out to me was Seamus McGarvey's insanely virtuosic cinematography that, in my opinion, eclipses his work in "Atonement". The movie treats us with dense framing, multi-sectional shots and unbroken oners decorated by groovy late 60's art direction accented by tense and methodical editing. Simply put, from a technical perspective, this movie is a masterclass.
We're also graced by an unexpectedly vulnerable performance from Jeff Bridges, the amazing vocal and acting chops of Cynthia Erivo, and a seriously wacky and disturbed Chris Hemsworth all delivering dark witty Drew Goddard dialogue that made me hang on their every word. It also helps that the movie is very unpredictable and provides a lot of laughs and shock value. The main thing that prevents the movie from becoming the next great pulpy crime opus, however, is its unearned and cheap ending especially with the way they treat one specific character. It's very last second and it feels more funny than genuinely moving as was intended. Having had some time to think about it, it feels dirty and left me with a bad taste and sticks out in what is overall a really fun and polarizing and weirdly paced ride.