Title: The Moment
MPA Rating: Not Rated
Director: Aidan Zamiri
Starring: Charli XCX, Alexander Skarsgard, Hailey Benton Gates
Runtime: 1 hr 43 mins

What It Is: A concert mockumentary about Charli XCX and the brat tour, where none of it happened, but maybe some of it did. Under immense pressure from the weight of her newest album’s success, her demanding label, and the sudden impending presence of a successful cookie-cutter director brought in to make her concert film, Charli struggles to find closure as an artist and mother to her largest creation yet.

What We Think: “BRAT… SUMMER… FOREVER!!”

I’m brat, btw. You bet your butts, I fought for that brat-green ‘The Moment’  beanie at the Sundance premiere. So we’ll kick this off by addressing that I went into the film with a huge bias already being a fan of Charli’s, of brat (which was a really formative and relatable album for me), and titillated by the promise of some sumptuous but rough-edged filmmaking. And titillated, I was indeed. At the get-go, we’re treated to a vigorous strobe-lit performance with Charli smothering us with hard choreography, showing off her gorgeous form and frilly, torn-layers-aesthetic that the girls (gurls) have since come to love and associate with the era. Eye-piercing neon title edits referencing subliminal messaging glitch and vibrate on the screen for what feels like every five minutes. Led by music video director Zamiri, who was responsible for Charli’s ‘360‘ video, the whole film feels like one giant headache-inducing, overstimulating music video or club visual, and I ABSOLUTELY adore it. For me, it was a feast for my eyes and ears, thanks to Charli’s musical influence, the delicious “Bittersweet Symphony” needle drop as damning as its use in “Cruel Intentions”, and the addicting score by A.G. Cook (I seriously kept ‘Dread’ on repeat for weeks after seeing this movie.) Visually and uniquely sharp, dark, and messy in keeping in line with the mockumentary flavor and framing the chaos of Charli’s workaholic/partyholic lifestyle, everything about how this movie was put together was fucking pitch-perfect. Like any of Harmony Korine or Gaspar Noe’s eyesore nightmare flicks (Climax, Baby Invaders or Spring Breakers comes to mind) it’s obviously not for everyone, and as the film points out, it, brat and the culture isn’t intended to be. …Or is it?

This film throughout ensures: brat is for the persona of the generally father-hating, dad-dating, messy gays and hot-girl cokeheads looking for an edgy and inclusive club atmosphere they can loose their minds and be sexy to. That is brat (which, frankly speaking, ‘brat’ is a spectrum, but for now, that’s besides the point). The conflict comes in when being a player in the industry challenges the sort of rebellious, provacative, YOLO nature of brat culture, indicating how quickly and frankly easy it is to corner someone into becoming the ‘perfect sellout,’ which is where things for me got really interesting, perhaps muddied or in the very least, controversial, and raised quite a few questions concerning the film’s philosophy of the rich and famous and industry art.

What is brat summer anymore? ‘Charli’ in the film falls into a strange struggle between playing the game and being an icon. The loss of control over her artistry leads her to become increasingly derailed as she anxiously shoulders the pressure of what she wants for the end of the era that brought her unknowable fame and success, versus the much larger forces at work that go against her nature as an artist–personified by a one adorable Alexander Skarsgard, playing up his role as a disturbingly powerful yet laughably vanilla director who suddenly has all the power above Charli and her creative team. Skarsgard unabashedly represents much of what is wrong with the industry and the sterilization of artists’ personas (hello, he’s literally THE PATRIARCHY), alongside industry leaders aka puppet master only concerned with deals and money through the success of the album. With something as big as a tour for what was in real life, was one of the biggest if not THE biggest album phenomenons of the year and the decade, it would seem to be too much for any one person to handle, especially if you’re watching what you’ve built up to fall apart before your very eyes. What really messed with my brain is how they repeatedly feature Kylie Jenner as the symbol of the ‘perfect sellout’ (she was also shown in the music video for The Moment’s score track ‘Residue’ incorporating the themes of the film)–a card that perhaps felt a little too tongue in cheek and played too close to home. That was maybe a little too ironic or even corny for me–y’know, considering Jenner’s RICH personal and family history. It was all very strange, to say the least, and something I’m still trying to put the words to.

Nonetheless, there were so many special things in this movie. And as a critic, not as a fan, there were plenty of entertaining character moments within the buzzing atmosphere that lets us tangibly feel what it’s like in movie-Charli’s fast-paced, popstar world. Not to also mention, we get so much of Charli as a character, as a person, and as a performer in this film. The highlights of the film were definitely the ones where she’s in her natural habitat, doing what she loves–being a performer, yet somehow, there’s vanity removed from it. There’s a deep love and beauty to her doing what she’s best at. The scene where she’s wearing this ugly gold scarf top thing yet coming across powerfully as she’s in the mirror practicing movement with these swift, loud air-punches and stomps, you realize again in this small moment, you’re watching a professional and actually intensely talented star at work. Another scene-favorite is when we see her rehearse on stage for the first time, working with her pragmatic and enjoyably frank creative director Celeste (Benton Gates) in a satisfying workflow as they put the show together, and Charli cranks out wild moves that make you feel like you’re suddenly at her concert. You get sucked in, not just from the glittery, tantilizing rush of it all, but also by watching Charli as a graviational artist and performer. Not to mention, she got across a lot of the darkness both she and her character experiences without any overdramatization, but just enough to the fact that you feel her spiral into existential peril.

Our Grade: B+, Spring Breakers meets something like Shiva Baby meets This is Spinal Tap and Vox Lux… all that jazz. You’d have to be quite a bit farsighted to not be able to see what sort of film you’re getting into, at least, if you’re not aware that this isn’t a real documentary but a speedy, flashy, trashy, entertaining eye-candy mockumentary with a satirical edge. I got exactly what was coming to me, and I’m left feeling nice and satiated, as if I’ve had a nice steak dinner followed up with a tray of dougnuts. It’s rich and left me with a funny high. As to how far leaning into the satire it goes its hard to say, because how ironic or critical can you be when you’re still participating in the very thing you’re pointing a finger or two at (the Kylie Jenner thing is still tripping me up a bit, but I’m likely still processing)? Still, the movie is forcing me to ask these fun, important questions and as a whole it jousts at the tyrannical ridiculousness of the business behind the superstar and the absurdity of fame itself in a way that’s a bit of a trolling mindfuck. I may feel differently about the film as time goes on, like it more or less, but for The Moment…I’m eating it up. Charli allows herself to be a punchline as much as she allows us to see the breadth of herself as an actress, influencer, performer, and vulnerable human being, and really, what more could we ask from a film that truly is the bittersweet love letter and closure to the iconic brat era. If you love something, set it free, therefore, #bratisoverparty.