It's 1970. Apparent Catholic priest Daniel Flynn (Jeff Bridges), struggling soul singer Darlene Sweet (Cynthia Erivo), damsel on the run Emily Summerspring (Dakota Johnson) and apparent vacuum cleaner salesman Dwight Broadbeck (Jon Hamm) descend upon the El Royale Hotel on the California-Nevada border, where the only employee left is awkward young concierge Miles Miller (Lewis Pullman; Bill's son). What now unfolds is first a series of vignettes exploring how these four quite disparate and troubled individuals ended up at this mostly deserted but palatial desert hotel and why the fifth, Miles, was there alone. Then once they've all settled in, the mutual suspicion and distrust mounts before real danger arrives in the form of charismatic but sadistic religious cult leader Billy Lee (Chris Hemsworth), whose hostage is Rose (Cailee Spraeny), his protégé and Emily's sister, whom she has been trying to rescue. Now, everybody's truths will be spilled, and they could all be off to meet their maker.
After his debut with 2011's game-changing horror gem The Cabin in the Woods and a tenure writing for Lost (of which this is particularly reminiscent, with its trademark flashbacks and cryptic mysteries), writer-director Drew Goddard has once again managed to consciously turn a very old genre (this time film noir) on its right on its head, and the result is more refreshing than a summer's day at the beach. It also feels rather reminiscent of Pulp Fiction with its retro-themed title cards, nonlinear structure and a soundtrack of obscure yet vaguely familiar (and well-chosen) pop songs. Some have questioned its 141-minute length but I considered that necessary for the number of characters we need to get to know here, and for numerous scenes to be repeated from alternating perspectives, being stuck as they are in one location together. And with the aid of poetic cinematography and consistently sharp editing, Goddard held my interest keenly the whole way; not once did I look at my phone in the theatre (although one wanker beside me wouldn't turn his off even after receiving two calls during the movie).
The whole cast don't hit a false note anywhere, but there are three unquestionable standouts here for me. Pullman keeps it in the family by letting the vulnerability and naivete gradually seep out for more relatability as the junior concierge who's just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then there's Hemsworth, going as far away from Thor as he has so far, bringing rock star swagger and emotional authority to this 1970s David Koresh type. But shining the brightest is Cynthia Erivo. As this compassionate and talented but increasingly desperate Darlene, the British Erivo seizes her chance to put a strong black female protagonist before us to make us take this horrible journey with her. She is indomitable, and has a singing voice that will also leave you gasping. I can't believe I'd never heard of her until seeing this film.
It could prove very polarising, or even be called pretentious, but Bad Times at the El Royale is a dead-set knockout for me. Pretty good for being Bad.
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