Last Night in Soho (2021) Review : Edgar Wright gets quite right once again, but a pop-culture showdown with originality nearing to zero.
An Edgar Wright feature is always inherent of his signature style-over-substance persona, irrespective of whatever genre he's tapping on to.
Wright's latest venture, completely irrelevant to his previous works, exerts a significant mysterious aura than the intended flagship jumpscares, evident in a mainstream horror film. Last Night in Soho makes the difference right here. It's a sizzling cocktail of a femme fatale adventure, entangled with Wright's fetishes for '60s and '70s femme horror flicks, a la Repulsion, Suspiria et al.
A bedazzling Anya Taylor-Joy, juxtaposed with an exuberant promising performance of Thomasin Mackenzie compliments the neon-drenched midnight streets and pubs of London in the most horrifying yet glamorous way possible.
The only disappointment is that the film tries to be superior with it's eagerness of spiking the levels of fear by invoking the mainstream elements of a horror picture, which destroys the entirety of the mood replicated for a glam horror film to some extent. Also, the energy seemed to be quite dim compared to the signature Edgar Wright one, complacent in his filmography.
Otherwise, the film works as an impressive standalone pop horror show, but compared to the current state of horror genre in Hollywood, where directors' creativity is spreading exponentially, the film lacks the creativity in building a proper character and it's dilemmas, and rather succeeds in constructing a glamorous showdown of nightmares in a blitzkrieg bop.
Wright's latest venture, completely irrelevant to his previous works, exerts a significant mysterious aura than the intended flagship jumpscares, evident in a mainstream horror film. Last Night in Soho makes the difference right here. It's a sizzling cocktail of a femme fatale adventure, entangled with Wright's fetishes for '60s and '70s femme horror flicks, a la Repulsion, Suspiria et al.
A bedazzling Anya Taylor-Joy, juxtaposed with an exuberant promising performance of Thomasin Mackenzie compliments the neon-drenched midnight streets and pubs of London in the most horrifying yet glamorous way possible.
The only disappointment is that the film tries to be superior with it's eagerness of spiking the levels of fear by invoking the mainstream elements of a horror picture, which destroys the entirety of the mood replicated for a glam horror film to some extent. Also, the energy seemed to be quite dim compared to the signature Edgar Wright one, complacent in his filmography.
Otherwise, the film works as an impressive standalone pop horror show, but compared to the current state of horror genre in Hollywood, where directors' creativity is spreading exponentially, the film lacks the creativity in building a proper character and it's dilemmas, and rather succeeds in constructing a glamorous showdown of nightmares in a blitzkrieg bop.
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