After Ben Garvey foolishly turned back to crime, he thought his life was over when he was sentenced to death by lethal injection. But his death sentence isn't quite what it seems, as Ben regains consciousness near an eerie psychiatric ward, where he's told he's been hired as the groundskeeper. With the state of his soul in question, and the love for his wife and daughter all the more real and powerful, Ben must figure out if he's truly cheated death, or if he's become part of something far more sinister.
At its heart, it’s a fond tribute to an influential artist and thus one that can speak to everyone’s inner artist, even if it lacks the sincere commentary you may wish to see.
Set against the backdrop of the Jim Crow era, the film offers layered representation.
Animation as a medium of storytelling can be thought to be open to all ages and as I hope my readings will reveal, they could be interpreted as transgender stories.
The quiet ache of guilt sitting at the dinner table, the silence after a truth is buried, and the way pain is passed down like a name.
The French-born director Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre’s strategic choice to entrust the interpretation of a conventional, feminine character to a non-binary actor pays off: Corrin’s Lady Chatterley is awkward, edgy, and uninhibited at the same time.
Even now, the well-established Snyder has yet to learn this as he continues to allow misguided decisions to convince him that his projects hold the same kind of intelligent and emotional weight. Army of the Dead is a tonal mess, one that never decides what it’s trying to be, and, for all we know, doesn’t want to decide.
