![17th Apr: The Longest Yard (2005), 1hr 53m [PG-13] – Streaming Again (6.2/10)](https://occ-0-7328-92.1.nflxso.net/dnm/api/v6/0Qzqdxw-HG1AiOKLWWPsFOUDA2E/AAAABan4GgFfcaP9oVc_hvhJHihEsYcXZUaLfvPkRkirbIiGRTu9SRgpAoOSI8nlaGS_SmRfNP9MvQQxL_zvdrswRJZDkzvsCxrCaast3VmodA.jpg?r=d02 "17th Apr: The Longest Yard (2005), 1hr 53m [PG-13] – Streaming Again (6.2/10)")
PLOT: Charli XCX becomes a global superstar thanks to the explosion of her “Brat Summer” phenomenon, but as the summer starts to wind down, the singer struggles to redefine herself beyond this one moment in pop culture.
REVIEW: Just before The Moment, I got a laugh out of one of the Sundance volunteers when an older gentleman sat down next to me and I sarcastically asked him, “So — you a big Charli XCX fan?” He looked at me and said, “Not really,” with a laugh, but being an open-minded Sundance person, he was still game to check the movie out. Yet I must admit that this man, who was probably about twenty-five years or so older than me, really didn’t know much more about the singer than I did, as before Sundance I had barely any idea who she was.
As a forty-four-year-old man, I must admit that “Brat Summer” passed me by, and I had to Google it (and ask ChatGPT about it) before seeing the movie so I’d have some idea of what the vibe was. That said, The Moment isn’t designed to solely be for Charli XCX fans, with it instead functioning as a knowing, sharp satire of both the music industry and how pop culture latches onto phenomena, only to discard them as their moment passes.
One thing it’s not is a vanity project for its star, as Charli XCX is careful to poke fun at herself, with the fictionalized character depicted in the movie more than willing to “sell out” at times when faced with the idea that her fame might be fleeting (in real life, it certainly wasn’t). It’s not like The Weeknd in Hurry Up Tomorrow, where the magic of his voice can seemingly cure insanity (it was an entry on my worst of the year list). The Moment, with its fictionalized tone, is less like This Is Spinal Tap (a movie it’s often being compared to) than a more surreal version of The Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night, which similarly fictionalized the experiences of its subjects just as they were experiencing global fame they weren’t sure would last.
In The Moment, Charli XCX, whose anthems about queer culture and partying have made her iconic, is struggling with what to do for her next act. Rather than push into the next chapter of her career, as advised by her beloved creative consultant, Celeste (Hailey Benton Gates), she allows herself to be manipulated by her label head (a funny Roseanna Arquette) into a series of boneheaded ways to keep the Brat phenomenon going. The most surreal is when she allows the launch of a “Brat Card,” a credit card designed specifically for the queer community. When presented with this idea, she asks how such a thing is even possible (“Do they have to take a test?”), but she lets it happen.
While Charli XCX proves to be a charismatic lead (she was actually quite good in another Sundance movie, I Want Your Sex), the film is stolen by Alexander Skarsgård, who enters the fray as the director of a Brat concert film she’s making for Amazon Prime and who wants to tone everything down for a mainstream audience (when told one of her songs is about cocaine, he asks to change it so it will be “metaphorical” cocaine). He’s hilarious and menacing, especially as he butts heads with Celeste, but the movie is full of strong performances. There are also loads of self-mocking cameos, including Rachel Sennott as a coked-up, egotistical version of herself, Khloé Kardashian, and even Stephen Colbert.
While The Moment certainly won’t be for everybody, I was actually surprised by how much I enjoyed it. Director Aidan Zamiri does a good job, and toward the end of the film I was tickled by his ironic use of one of the most overused movie songs of all time, The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony.” It’s a clever, sharply written flick that should be a cult hit among Charli XCX’s fans — and maybe even beyond.
