Post by StevePulaski on Apr 9, 2019 22:50:59 GMT -5
Unicorn Store (2019)
Directed by: Brie Larson
Directed by: Brie Larson
Brie Larson.
Rating: ★★½
I recently read an extensive piece from GQ, which involved catching up with the elusive and enigmatic filmmaker Harmony Korine (Spring Breakers and, most recently, The Beach Bum). Throughout the piece, Korine gave tangential answers and seemingly misguided responses to various questions about his vision and outlook on life. When discussing his earliest projects, Gummo, in particular, he made clear his short attention span and general contempt for conventional narrative. He loves his films to be a compilation of vignettes, so to speak; one long "cool part," to paraphrase his words. Why wait 30 minutes to "get to the good part?"
I mention this because Brie Larson's directorial debut, Unicorn Store, although narratively coherent and grounded in a linear structure, has the remnants of a Korine movie insofar in that the film itself is comprised of scenes in a variety of different settings and secondary characters who, at some point, converge with other characters. As a result, it makes for a film comprised of a variety of entertaining scenes. It may take you a while to sink into and "buy," in a very basic sense, but through all its blemishes, it's ceaselessly entertaining and unapologetically free.
Larson plays Kit, a wide-eyed woman with a personality that suggests she's a young girl. She's perpetually stuck in a state of arrested development, compounded by dropping out of art school and slogging away on her parents (played affectionately by Joan Cusack and Bradley Whitford), who speak like the kind of conformists she has silently vowed never to become. Her parents don't challenge her childlike delusions so much as try to nudge her on a path that will get her out of her funk.
A TV commercial for a temp agency (humorously named "Temporary Success") motivates her to get a job pushing buttons on a copy machine at a company that makes Initech look like the frontlines of NASA's expeditions. She has a boss (Hamish Linklater) who gets a little too close to her, seeing the undying youthful spirit in her that he once possessed, and a lot of impersonal coworkers that make her day-to-day routine appear as thankless as it is until she receives a mysterious note requesting she stop by a place called "The Store." When she finally arrives, she's greeted by "The Salesman," played by Samuel L. Jackson, looking like Mr. Magorium in an afro-wig, who oversees a "Unicorn store." He informs Kit that she can have a unicorn — what she always wanted as a young girl — if she simply "believe" and follow strict steps, including building a stable in her backyard and acquiring enough hay, among a plethora of other tasks straight out of the Neighborhood of Make-Believe. Kit then enlists in the help of a young hardware store employee named Virgil (Mamoudou Athie) to construct her backyard-stable, all while trying to keep it under the nose of her overbearing parents, and bringing her colorful creativity to her job in hopes of impressing her boss.
Unicorn Store reminds me of Brigsby Bear, another film about arrested development, where coming-of-age meant subscribing to the dreadful idea of "adulting," a word I absolutely loathe. Although that film was much clearer in its message, Larson's feature gets no points off for creativity. She immerses herself in a world of vibrant whimsy, and the entertainment factor is there, sometimes en masse, as are the personal touches. Larson has been an actress since she was nine-years-old, and it's evident that a chunk of Samantha McIntyre's screenplay worked enough on a relatable level for her that she found this to project to be an appropriate introduction into the world of directing.
As with many personal projects, the film is equipped with all the predictable shortcomings and vulnerabilities that arouse when art comes from the deepest regions of its creator's soul. At times, Larson doesn't know what she wants to stay, especially in regards to the unicorn store itself. I wasn't quite sure whether to reject it on the basis of holding its main character back or embrace it for its innocence but recognize there is a time and a place for the innocence of one's subconscious to take over and race to the colored pencils and cut-outs of youth. Furthermore, the sexual harassment subplot with Kit's boss is grossly out of place. Appropriate or miscalculated, this is a film so insulated in the mind of its fantasist lead that bringing such a heavy, real-world problem into the mix sets the tone off balance.
There's nonetheless a lot to like about Unicorn Store. Larson's facial expressions and occasionally snarky tone alone are worth pressing play for, and seeing her team-up with Samuel L. Jackson for another go-around is liable to produce one or two smiles on your face, further solidifying there is something to this unlikely duo. Also aggressively likable is Mamoudou Athie, who I, too, enjoyed as Basterd in the under-seen Patti Cake$ from a few years back, as the only character in the film sans cutesy quirks. Even though the abundance of millennial humor should alienate — in one scene, Kit's boss asks her what she hopes to be in ten years and she responds with "not a great disappointment" — it adds to the eclectic verisimilitude of the entire film.
Originally screened at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2017, where it went unsold until Netflix picked it up, undoubtedly looking to capitalize off of the familiarity of Larson/Jackson's work in Captain Marvel, Unicorn Store is fiercely watchable entertainment. Its observations about coming-of-age are pleasant, if sometimes merely pleasantries, and its roster of generational actors meshes better than anyone might've inferred. It's not the neatest directorial debut, but it's commendable and original, and I'll always be behind those kinds of movies.
Starring: Brie Larson, Samuel L. Jackson, Mamoudou Athie, Joan Cusack, Bradley Whitford, and Hamish Linklater. Directed by: Brie Larson.