After spending much of our summer looking into the abyss with our two episodes on cinematic psychopaths, A Damn Fine Cup of Culture is heading for British Hong Kong, 1962: we’ve rewatched Wong Kar-wai’s In the Mood for Love (2000) and we’ve got some things to say about it, from commenting on the echoes to Billy Wilder’s The Apartment to discussing the film’s sartorial choices. On our way there, we also touch upon the Elton John biopic Rocketman, the Nazi-shootin’ B-movie thrills of Wolfenstein: The New Colossus and the grandpappy of silent Soviet cinema, Battleship Potemkin… set to a live orchestra’s renditions of Shostakovich. How better to finish a summer of culture?
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I’ve heard it said that the majority of neo-nazis and other members of extreme right-wing associations contemplate suicide at least once in their lives because subconsciously, they sense that their world-view is wrong. In Guy Nattiv’s Skin, Bryon Widner (Jamie Bell) is at this point. He is a member of the Vinlanders Social Club, not a social club at all, led by Fred ‘Hammer’ Krager (an unrecognizable Bill Camp), a stern father figure who is married to Shareen (Vera Farmiga), who actively tells everyone that they can call her Mum. It’s a bunch of people who have nowhere else to go, socially as well as economically, and they are just happy that there is someone who takes care of them and gives them things to do, no matter how vile or poisonous their chores are. The VSC is a family for people who never had a proper family. It would be a huge mistake to think that Fred and Shareen are in any way dumb or ridiculous. They provide food and shelter for strays and manipulate them into becoming white supremacists. They are not above murder, so be warned. The more they clash with their preceived enemies, the more they come alive, and the more dangerous they are. 
It’s possible to have great fun in a predictable formula movie. My daughter and me went to see Yesterday, about a luckless singer who has a road accident and wakes up in a world without the Beatles songbook. It slowly dawns on poor Jack that he is the only one who remembers the Fab Four. Screenplay by Richard Curtis, directed by Danny Boyle. That’s a pretty snazzy premise, innit? We went during a sweltering hot day, the movie theater was cool, and it was the tiniest viewing room in our city. “It’s just like a movie theater people would have at home,” she exclaimed. We were the only ones sitting there, and so we sang along to all the tunes. Great fun. 
A Damn Fine Cup of Culture 