Nancy (2018)

Nancy feels like an eerie short story, full of gloomy detail and a vivid exploration of one woman’s pained and complex psyche, perfectly contained within a tight 80 minute runtime. Riseborough delivers yet another revelatory performance here, I’ve actually lost count of how many times she’s impressed me over the last two years, appearing in everything from Manglehorn and Battle of the Sexes to Mandy and this. She’s on one hell of a run. Choe’s direction is strictly measured too, the entire film never feels anything less than precise and restrained with the potentially-pretentious choice to shoot in Academy ratio instead feeling totally warranted by the film’s indoor domestic claustrophobia. The whole movie feels like it’s resting in a coffin. Also I’d buy Buscemi as Riseborough’s Dad any day.

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