KNOWLEDGE AND BELIEF: a review of "The Book Of Clarence"

 

"THE BOOK OF CLARENCE"
Written, Produced and Directed by Jeymes Samuel
***1/2 (three and a half stars)
RATED PG 13

There is always something about LaKeith Stanfield that makes me feel that he is just this far over his head, out of his depth, and quite possibly, he is just not going to make it.

There is this certain vulnerability, or innocence or the combination of guile and guilessness that feels to be a natural part of his overall essence that I somehow feel protective of him, worried about him and the predicaments he finds himself engulfed in through his characters. To refresh, remember him as the philosophical stoner Darius from television's "Atlanta" (2016-2022), who finds himself trapped in a sinister mansion in the terrifying episode "Teddy Perkins." Or further still, his doomed status as a brain transplanted victim in Writer/Director Jordan Peele's "Get Out" (2017) as well as his equally ill fated status at the conclusion of Writer/Director Boots Riley's "Sorry To Bother You" (2018).

From being submerged in inner conflict as an FBI informant infiltrating the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party in Writer/Director Shaka King's "Judas and the Black Messiah" (2021) to potentially enduring a broken heart from Issa Rae in Writer/Director Stella Meghie's "The Photograph" (2020), LaKeith Stanfield's characters over and again take truly precarious risks that he may not emerge from unscathed, which makes him absolutely perfect as our conduit into the biblical satire "The Book Of Clarence" from Writer/Director/Composer Jeymes Samuel as his role as the titular Clarence runs a path adjacent to Jesus Christ himself...which should, of course, signal to you his chances for evading dire consequences. 

As for the film itself, while not sent over the top by any means, it is a film that I have not been able to shake since having seen it for it is haunting in its resonance, provocations and realizations when confronting lifelong perceptions of the Christ parable, religious teachings and the existing parallels to our present day that we may not think of. 

Opening in A.D. 33 Lower Jerusalem, Jeymes Samuel's "The Book Of Clarence," finds Clarence (LaKeith Stanfield) and best friend Elijah (RJ Cyler) losing a chariot race against Mary Magdalene (Teyana Taylor), placing them both into mortal danger with loan shark Jedediah the Terrible (Eric Kofi-Abrefa) who has vowed to kill them both in 30 days unless full debts are paid. 

Pondering his quandary, Clarence soon happens upon the idea of posing as a fake messiah to capitalize upon the growing fandom surrounding Jesus Christ (Nicholas Pinnock) and his twelve apostles, which includes Clarence's twin brother Thomas (also portrayed by Stanfield), with whom he shares a family conflict and estrangement.

To Clarence's surprise, his scheme--unlike all of his other schemes--begins to catch fire and soon, he is perceived as being precisely what he is not...which of course, draws the attention of the Romans, already in pursuit of Christ and anyone who proclaims themselves as being a messiah. To Clarence's even greater surprise, his scheme becomes the catalyst for deeper personal discovery and ascension, from being selfish to becoming selfless, from being personally driven to community bonding, to finding a greater understanding as to what divinity is and can be.

On paper, Jeymes Samuel's "The Book Of Clarence" could be regarded as a sort of spiritual successor to what is now considered to be the greatest Biblical satire, Director Terry Jones' "Monty Python's Life Of Brian" (1979). While Samuel does share a similar approach that is not too far removed from playwright Tom Stoppard's "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead" (1966), what Samuel has conceived is more gently anarchistic, a slyer aesthetic that is also demonstrably sincere in its emotional stakes and core, thus grounding the proceedings with a proper pathos and social critique.

"The Book Of Clarence" possesses a streak that is playful as when Clarence gets an idea, a light bulb appears above his head and during a trip to an opium den, customers are literally floating in the air after each puff. Yet, overall, Samuel's depiction is decidedly matter of fact as he draws distinct parallels between the past and present, making for an eternal human struggle that hasn't changed terribly much in over 2000 years. The caste system and hierarchies based upon social class, race and ethnicities are in full effect as is racial profiling, Black execution at the hands of White authority leading to a power structure where the desire of those in power attempts to create an existence wholly designed to eradicate those they feel beneath themselves yet is consistently undercut by the persistence of the joy and community of Black unity.

To that end, it is through his depictions where Jeymes Samuel challenges viewer's thinking, especially as we are drowning in a time where nuance is increasingly non-existent and choices are binary. We are given a cinematic vision where Jesus Christ, all of his disciples plus the majority of the inhabitants of Lower Jerusalem are all Black people, completely clashing against the imagery of the long haired, blue eyed White Jesus, imagery which Samuel tackles in the film as well.

Clarence is the engine within this story and the conceit of the character is compelling. To have a poor Black man, one who is a bit of a scoundrel, jobless aside from drug peddling, who thieves honey wine from the Romans and who lives with his Mother (portrayed by Marianne Jean-Baptiste) instead of on his own volition as the hero in a Biblical tale might feel antithetical to some but for me, it makes the trajectory of the story carry a greater meaning...for who among us is without fault or tribulations? 

Despite Clarence's often questionable to nefarious choices, notably posing as a messiah, Samuel is wise enough to showcase how that does not suggest Clarence has a lack of character, substance or virtuousness. His feud with brother Thomas stems from the forsaking of family to leave an ailing parent to follow Christ. Clarence's devotion to his Mother, friends and community is pure. He is sweetly--and dangerously--in love with Varinia (Anna Diop), the sister of Jedediah the Terrible. Yet, most of all, Clarence is an atheist. 

The soul of Jeymes Samuel's "The Book Of Clarence" is one that challenges Clarence, as well as all of us in the audience, to think about what exactly God and divinity is or isn't, what it can or cannot be and is it something to find or to be attained or is it always elusive or does it exist at all. This makes for an experience I feel that anyone could fine value within regardless of what one's spiritual or religious beliefs happen to be. Which then takes us to the heart within the soul of the film: the concepts of "knowledge" and "belief," and how they conflict and intersect.

Now, according to the Oxford dictionary, "Knowledge" is defined as "facts, information and skills acquired by a person through experience or education; the theoretical or practical understanding of a subject" while "Belief" is defined as "an acceptance that is statement is true or that something exists."  

This dichotomy fuels Clarence's conflict with Thomas, and with all of us regarding our individual relationships with religion and spirituality, for how can one believe when one does not know and how can one know when one hasn't experienced what really cannot be experienced? Thomas believes yet he is firm in the knowledge of his faith. Clarence, however, is absolutely certain he knows all there is to know until his odyssey truly begins with his ruse as a false messiah and what he believes is confronted, altered and changed...entirely based upon his new knowledge. 

Throughout the film, Jeymes Samuel argues that knowledge and belief are not mutually exclusive concepts but ones that are consistently aligned and therefore, symbiotic. Clarence's journey takes him upon a trajectory that runs concurrently to Jesus Christ's, even forging relationships with Barabbas the Immortal (Omar Sy), Pontius Pilate (James McAvoy), experiencing what he once thought impossible--most crucially, within himself--to climactic and tragic consequences of which we all know the story.  

In the here and now, our relationships with religion and spirituality are based upon the stories we have been told and taught, a process formulating a belief system as we were not in existence at the time of Christ (if he ever existed as some question) so we are not armed with any first hand knowledge. Our beliefs may or may not transition into knowledge or better yet, a hybrid of the two, until we each have experienced life and the living experience. Clarence's journey is our own in that regard and with that in mind, God and divinity, Samuel seems to be extolling does indeed exist because we are all here in this world together...for it is within our sense of humanity that we attempt to understand what existence is  within our respective places in the universe.

LaKeith Stanfield meets every moment within "The Book Of Clarence" with an unforced, naturally magnetic presence that we are willing to follow him anywhere he travels no matter how ridiculous, romantic, wrenching, miraculous and impossible his experiences are and become. And again, I felt protective of him as the story was barreling towards an obvious conclusion.  

Clarence's final moments on screen, as conveyed through LaKeith Stanfield's emotive, honest performance, are a wonder. Stanfield again shows all of us that he has been through it, he has seen, he has experienced and through his sympathetic, haunted eyes and the emotionally altered breaths he elicits...

...we believe.

THE ENTIRETY OF ME: a review of "American Fiction"

 

"AMERICAN FICTION"
Based upon the novel Erasure by Perceval 
Written For The Screen and Directed by Cord Jefferson
**** (four stars)
RATED R

The painful feeling of aloneness in being Black in America. 

Late in "American Fiction," the filmmaking debut of Writer/Director Cord Jefferson, there is a moment between two characters where one makes an admission so grounded, so filled with a deeply knowing resignation that not only informed the character, the film as a whole but reflected within myself sitting in the audience. It was a moment of sincere and severe recognition that spoke to a grave realty and a certain inevitability. In myself, I felt the echo of this character's closing statement, "...it makes me sad." 

Cord Jefferson's "American Fiction" is unquestionably one of 2023's finest films. What exists as a pointed satire about the perceptions of race mass produced for public consumption--this time, the publishing industry--Jefferson surprised me by essentially creating a dual narrative where one comments upon the other while being firmly cojoined. I would not be surprised if some viewers may wonder during the film's running time, if Jefferson had lost its narrative threads, trading or favoring one element for another. On the contrary, one element would be unable to exist without the other as they simultaneously inform and enhance each narrative. There are many moments within "American Fiction" that struck me with grim hilarity but yes, it made me feel very sad, very often for Jefferson truly found a distinctive tone when confronting the perceived inherent virtuousness of White people which conflicts with the perceived inherent monstrosities of Black people and the constant existential ache it leaves behind.  

"American Fiction" stars the brilliant Jeffrey Wright as Thelonious "Monk" Ellison, author and professor who finds himself at a pivotal crossroads. While his novels are critically acclaimed, they are low sellers and his latest manuscript has not been accepted by publishers under the criticism that his work has been deemed to be "not Black enough." Meanwhile, Monk's University places him upon a temporary leave due to his uncompromising teaching philosophy regrading the exploration of race issues in literature and encourages him to attend a literary conference and perhaps reunite with his estranged family back home in Boston...to which Monk grudgingly accepts. 

While in Boston, Monk indeed attends the conference at which he is dismayed and disgusted during a greatly attended seminar starring bestselling author Sintara Golden (Issa Rae), whose latest chronicle of Black life is the smash hit We's Lives In Da Ghetto. To the literary critics and the audience, Golden's novel is a stirring, brutally honest exploration of African-American culture while Monk is horrified at the novel's cartoonish pandering and the continued perpetuation of cultural stereotypes. 

Exasperated at the reality of his manuscript's rejection and consumed with personal and professional fury at the existence of material like Sintara Golden's latest work, Monk crafts his own "Blaxploitation" manuscript entitled My Pafology under the pseudonym of Stagg R. Leigh, an escaped fugitive. Not only is the book quickly snapped up by publishers, it subsequently becomes a critically acclaimed novel and national bestseller...all to Monk's incredulity, deepening shame and upended sense of morality.

In my recent, and negative, review of Writer/Director Emerald Fennell's "Saltburn" (2023), I derided the film for its utter lack of originality as it was essentially a copycat of Writer/Director Anthony Minghella's "The Talented Mr. Ripley" (1999), without any sense of a new or honest perspective to make the work stand on its own cinematic feet. Granted, I was a bit worried about "American Fiction" as the first trailers made me utter to myself, "I loved this film when Spike Lee did it over 20 years ago."  

Spike Lee's "Bamboozled" (2000), his incendiary satire about an African-American, Harvard educated television executive played by Damon Wayans who, out of frustration with his inability to shepherd television programs with positive Black imagery on air, creates a modern day minstrel show starring Black actors in Blackface which becomes a national sensation. It is a Molotov cocktail of a film. One of Lee's brashest, boldest, most uncompromising and righteously enraged efforts. It is also in the top three of my favorite films from the decade of 2000-2009. So, certainly, as Cord Jefferson's "American Fiction" was upcoming, I was interested but I was also deeply skeptical.

I needed not have worried whatsoever as Cord Jefferson has created a film that works in tandem with Spike Lee's film while extending itself into its own cinematic space with a perspective all of its own. Jefferson's satire wisely does not approach the more visually hallucinogenic texture of Lee's "Bamboozled" but that does not suggest that the cinematic teeth of "American Fiction" are not bared. Jefferson helms a more muted, recognizable world where the satire exists in a matter of fact fashion, thus making the extremes that much more distinctive in their scathing humor and unquestionable sorrow. 

I enjoyed how as Monk is crafting My Pafology, his crass, cultural stereotypes characters physically walk around the room with him, verbally guiding him into how they would speak, act and think in order to match with already existing and so-called "authentic" tropes of the Black trauma porn he despises. I laughed hard at a commercial splicing together key tragic moments in existing Black cinema advertising Black excellence upon an Oprah styled television network. And of course, the exceedingly uncomfortable cringe humor of non-White characters coaching Monk on his "Blackness" in order to court White publishers, and subsequently, White film producers, in his guise as Stagg R. Leigh. Every satirical arrow hits its target perfectly in its ridiculousness and cultural cruelty as this is indeed how we as Black people are seen within the context of a larger White environment, and more pointedly, in a supposedly liberal White environment.  

Where Cord Jefferson's "American Fiction" really finds its wings is when the story extends itself into what is essentially the film's core: Monk's family. Through Monk, we meet his Mother Agnes (Leslie Uggams), declining in health due to Alzheimer's disease, his sister Lisa (Tracee Ellis Ross), a physician, his long estranged brother Cliff (Sterling K. Brown), housekeeper Lorraine (Myra Lucretia Taylor) and the memory of his Father who committed suicide seven years earlier. 

Monk is a naturally interior soul, yet one who, over time, has built higher, thicker emotional walls which threaten to consume him in his own anger, however correct his anger is. Monk is wise enough to know that in America, as a Black man, he isn't allowed or afforded the opportunity top express his deepest emotions, especially his anger outwardly. He clearly works through any sense of self analysis within his published novels, and to a extent within his teaching, but as his novels are not largely read and the scrutiny of the University system stifles him, Monk's sense of aloneness leads to isolation, self imposed and otherwise. The unjust nature of what is accepted within White society regarding the lives of Black people only compounds his aloneness/isolation further, thus increasing his anger. 

Regarding Monk's personal life, Cord Jefferson smartly does not judge Monk's reticence and further, reluctance to reunite with his family or the missteps he makes with Coraline (Erika Alexander), a family neighbor with whom Monk strikes up a romance. "American Fiction" gracefully and unapologetically invites us into interior world of a Black man in ways typically unseen within television and feature films and how refreshing and even healing it was to see and to know that me and people like myself were being seen in return. 

I have expressed this sentiment time and again upon this site that representation matters, and that within the representation, viewers can see that (in this case) Black people matter...that I matter. It is painful to note that even now in the 21st century, we as Black people still have to assert that we are fully dimensional human beings and not the stereotypes that continue to permeate American culture. 

Cord Jefferson's "American Fiction" inspires the viewer to come for the satire and to stay for the empathetic story of a loving yet fractured and gradually disintegrating/evolving Black family with explorations of adult Black siblinghood, on going generational Black family trauma with issues of mental illness, repression, and addictions that arrive via the self medications that arises from enduring the aforementioned generational and racial trauma, an exploration of Black manhood, sexuality and the difficulties of attaining and delivering intimacy as the social/emotional growth and development of Black males is not valued in America. 

A sequence where Monk, at long last, confronts Sintara Golden is a scorcher! One filled with smart, sharp dialogue that was so strong that this one scene could have easily spiraled off into its own film a la Director Louis Malle's "My Dinner With Andre" (1981)! Jefferey Wright and Issa Rae worked at the top of their respective games in this quietly blistering sequence as their characters passionately debated each other over issues of cultural and personal integrity, complicity into continued perpetuation of negative Black stereotypes for personal gain, the heights and fallacies of White gatekeeper run industries (publishing, television, Hollywood films) and most importantly, between the two of them, precisely who is being dishonest as they are both knowingly playing the game at the expense of Black people. 

And then, a White person enters the room. Debate ended, never to be continued. 

As stated, the dual narratives of "American Fiction" work together as each one is the backdrop and often catalyst for the other. Key decisions Monk engages himself with within the publishing world over the course of the film are clearly motivated by events in his personal life and therefore, the consequences exacerbate his personal relationships. And since Monk is so emotionally isolated, both personally and racially, he has nowhere to go...a quandary I feel a powerful connection with and I would argue most Black Americans, especially those who happen to exist in largely White spaces like myself as I happen to be the one and only Black male at the business at which I am employed, making me constantly hyperaware of behaviors and perceptions that are assumed, unasked for and ever present regardless of the content of my character and quality of my work. 

And there is no one to confide in because how do I begin to explain my inner world when the perception is the reality and the reality is unknown?   

What is fiction within Cord Jefferson's "American Fiction"? Jefferson asks of every viewer to regard Monk and all of the characters through a lens of what is honestly recognizable and therefore, realistic when it comes to how Black people are viewed. When saying that we exist in equality is taken as a threat to others not being allowed to exist. When the perceptions that live inside one's mind carry more realistic weight than the person standing directly in front of them, a person never allowed the chance to be seen, known, understood, and empathized with as a fellow human being. 

Yes...it makes me sad. Because if it hasn't happened by now in 2024, will it ever? Cord Jefferson's "American Fiction" is a plea as well as a demand to finally confront the fiction so we can finally engage with the reality and hopefully, no one need feel to exist in undeserved aloneness. 

EMPTY MANSION: a review of "Saltburn"

 

"SALTBURN"
Written, Produced and Directed by Emerald Fennell
*1/2 (one ad a half stars)
RATED R

I would give this film points for trying...but honestly, did it?

By this point in 2024, almost 130 years into the history of cinema, it would be extremely hard pressed into seeing anything that could be presented as completely "original"--the very type of film that has essentially been unseen. This feeling seems to be especially true these days with the prevalence of sequels, prequels, reboots, re-imaginings and so on.  

However, I have extremely often been more than ready to proclaim something as being or feeling "original" and I know that I will do so again. I firmly believe that so many times over, filmmakers and cinematic storytellers are able to harness a specific artistry that allows them to combine so many elements, from the familiar to the unfamiliar, that once completed, we are given something that looks, sounds and feels unlike anything else. Or.. the originality in question arrives completely from a filmmaker's distinctive, idiosyncratic voice, taking the overly familiar and making everything feel fresh because of their specific worldview. 

Granted, wat is original to someone may be well worn to another, so what I am speaking about may not be the easiest thing to relay. But, in essence, when it comes to being original in film, you know it when you see it and you really know it when you don't. 

For my cinematic sensibilities Emerald Fennell's "Saltburn," her dark, psychological, erotic thriller falls sharply within the latter category. It is a stylish, slow burner that works itself up into sequences of demented frenzy while simultaneously not feeling in any bit of a hurry to get anywhere significant...until it does, and then, it's a mad dash to the point of being absolutely ridiculous as sheer logic is tossed out of the window in order to keep the so-called shocks coming. Beyond all of that, Fennell has helmed a work that is not remotely original in any conceivable way while also not possessing a point of view about its characters, its location or anything suggesting that Fennell thought beyond the superficial. As I say from time to time, I see these things so you don't have to. "Saltburn" is not the worst film I have seen in a while by any means. I have seen much worse. But, we have all seen better...as has Emerald Fennell. So much so, this film feels nearly copied from one exceedingly better film in particular.   

Set during the early 2000's, Emerald Fennell's "Saltburn" stars Barry Keoghan as Oliver Quick, an Oxford student enrolled on scholarship and all but ostracized by his wealthy classmates. Infatuated, and soon obsessed, with Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi) his gorgeous, popular and yes, exceedingly wealthy classmate, Oliver initiates a "meet cute" (via a broken down bicycle) and afterwards a friendship.

During their budding friendship, Oliver shares stories of his dire home life, including mental illness, substance abuse and his Father's sudden death, to which Felix grows increasingly empathetic, to the point where he invites Oliver to stay with him and his family upon their massive estate, Saltburn.  

Upon arrival at the estate, Oliver Quick is quickly introduced to the eclectic cast of characters in residence including: Felix's parents, Sir James Catton (Richard E. Grant) and Lady Elspeth Catton (Rosamund Pike), his sister, Venetia (Alison Oliver), Felix's African-American cousin and Oliver's Oxford nemesis, Farleigh Start (Archie Madekwe) and "Poor Dear" Pamela (Carey Mulligan), Elspeth's friend and "hanger on."  

As the summer wears on and Oliver and Felix's friendship grows closer, Oliver also begins to insinuate himself within the family, much to Farleigh's chagrin and intensifying suspicion towards Oliver's true intentions. Which by now might begin to sound more than a little familiar...

Back in the Winter of 1999, I remember going to a doctor's appointment and while we were getting ourselves re-acquainted, she happened to off handedly mention, "I saw the absolute worst movie last night." Of course, my curiosity was piqued. I asked her what film she saw and when she told me, I was genuinely stunned as I had seen the same film and found it to being exceptional. Asking why her reaction was so strongly negative, she responded, "I hated it because it had absolutely no redeeming social value whatsoever." 

The film in question was Anthony Minghella's "The Talented Mr. Ripley" (1999). And my doctor's takeaway from her viewing experience essentially mirrors my own concerning Emerald Fennell's 'Saltburn."

Now, to be clear, my reaction has really nothing to do with being remotely offended by anything in the film's content as I do not offend easily. My reaction is based in several issues, including how little Fennell gave any thought to her film other than copying "The Talented Mr. Ripley" whole cloth. 

Yes, "Saltburn" is a stylish, at times opulent looking film. Emerald Fennel clearly knows how to construct her world, at least, through her visual and cinematic aesthetic. The film houses some clever dialogue, good performances overall and a chilly shell this side of Stanley Kubrick. And yet, the Fennell crawls trough her story until it feels that even she has had enough of the proceedings as the last, say 35-40 minutes of this two hour plus film crams so many "plot twists" at such a speed as to incur whiplash. Logical storytelling steps never appear at all, most crucially as the story spirals into darkness. Situations and consequences bear no weight and everything seems to come to pass with surprising ease that runs in conflict with the supposed complexities of the plot. 

One giant misstep is the casting of Barry Keoghan as the 18-20 year old Oliver Quick. This is not due to any lack of skill as he throws himself into the part and is game for anything required of him. It is the fact that he is visibly too old for the role! Yes, when Fennell clouds him in mood lighting or darkness, Keoghan's boyish features are identifiable. But, when he hits broad daylight! Wow. I honestly haven't seen casting for teen age/young adult characters this egregious since the...ahem...senior class of T-Birds and Pink Ladies of Rydell High sang themselves through the school hallways in Randal Kleiser's "Grease" (1978)!! This quality was so distracting that I was more than ready to experience a plot twist like the one found Jaume Collet-Serra's grotesque "Orphan" (2009), but "Saltburn" isn't as daring as it thinks it is because when it is all said and done, we have seen it all before and better.

Back to this theme of what makes a film "original." If you are familiar with Minghella's "The Talented Mr. Ripley," as well as the 1955 Patricia Highsmith novel from which the film is based, of course, we know that this story did not necessarily originate a plot starring a parasitic interloper infiltrating high society. Whatever emotions derived from Minghella's film arrive because he, his actors and his cinematic team, and most importantly, his first rate screenplay, ensured that for whatever any familiarity, he needed to dig deeply and create full, rich characters to allow the story to feel anew, especially when the setting of Italy contained major significance. Minghella strongly understood that the characters and the location needed to inform each other therefore, deepening our understanding of each element. We understood precisely why Jude Law's character was so magnetic and where Matt Damon's character's sociopathic tendencies developed and how the setting of Italy influenced each. 

Returning to my comparison to Stanley Kubrick, whose "The Shining" (1980) clearly feels to be a key influence in Fennell's "Saltburn," all the way to the garden maze on the estate grounds. After 44 years, we all know and can still feel the cruel, cold dread of the Overlook Hotel as we remember every nook, cranny and carpet pattern plus its own entity and how it related to that film's core characters.

More recently, we have Alexander Payne's superb "The Holdovers" (2023), a film that feels fresh due to the depths of the screenplay, attention to the layers of the characters and how they all connect and relate to the Barton boarding school. The setting and characters are inseparable from each other.

Unfortunately, there is no such detail or resonance to nearly any one moment in Emerald Fennell's "Saltburn." It is as if Fennell figured that whomever would potentially see her film would not have any knowledge of "The Talented Mr. Ripley," so what would it bother to lift the plot for herself? Just tweak the proceedings with the hollow flash and style that went out of fashion with Bret Easton Ellis novels, a red herring of a mystery that ultimately never comes to pass, and thunderously plunk in three scenes (involving a bathtub, a gravesite and the finale, respectively) which are solely designed to get viewers talking with an aghast "Can you believe it?!" demeanor and let's call it a movie. 

But since Fennell's film possesses no insight into human nature, the Saltburn estate is as indistinguishable from any remote English mansion or prep school or Hogwarts, and essentially only exists to get people talking about those aforementioned three scenes, then how could it have any redeeming social value? These scenes, these "shocking scenes" are attached to nothing tangible making them wasted opportunities to update the conceit of the story or the lives of the characters.    

Emerald Fennel's "Saltburn" is a resoundingly disappointing film that is completely devoid of character. And that's because she never bothered to write any.