Belated Review: Bad Times at the El Royale

There's a scene in the latter half of Bad Times at the El Royale in which cult leader Billy Lee (Chris Hemsworth) appoints one of his followers as a representation of good, and another as a representation of evil, and then has them duke it out, ostensibly for the entertainment of the other cultists assembled, but really to make a point. He's not subtle about the blurring of this line, as he enthusiastically cries out, "let's have ourselves an allegory!" As Good and Evil beat the crap out of each other, Billy steals from their purses right in front of them, but they're too distracted by their struggle to notice. Billy's point: Stick to a chosen morality, and you'll be beaten down. Refuse to take sides, and you're free to do what you want.

Billy's argument is powerfully made, albeit clearly based on a blatant misunderstanding of morality; refusing to take a moral stand and instead focusing on hedonism are themselves moral choices. Still, one could interpret the entire storyline of Bad Times at the El Royale as an implicit examination of whether Billy has a valid point. Most of the "bad guys" in this film have hidden virtues, and most of the "good guys" have hidden vices. Indeed, despite his gleeful preaching against choosing either Good or Evil, Billy himself ironically seems to be the one person in the film who has clearly made a rock solid choice.

The El Royale is a motel on the exact border of California and Nevada, a quirk we're constantly reminded of due to the flashy red border line that helpfully points out the exact point of demarcation. The motel was once a highly successful retreat for the rich and famous ("Dean Martin once sang a song about it!" one character enthuses) but times have been tough and guests scarce since the motel lost its gambling license. For the first moment or so of the film, the motel has no guests at all, but the story is set in motion when four disparate strangers -- a friendly but befuddled Catholic priest (Jeff Bridges), a highly talented but struggling soul singer (Cynthia Erivo), a surly young woman (Dakota Johnson), and a garrulous traveling salesman (Jon Hamm) check into the motel all at once, to the clear surprise of the shocked and painfully shy desk clerk, Miles.

Yes, it's true, none of these people know each other, and indeed have no connection at all, but they each harbor secrets that will ultimately lead their immediate futures to become hopelessly entangled.

I can't possibly describe either the characters nor the plot in any more detail without giving away spoilers (the trailer infuriatingly gives away some of the biggest twists) but I will make a comment on style: This is the best damn Quentin Tarantino movie that Tarantino never directed. It's got every single theme and stylistic flourish ever associated with ol' QT: crime and violence, misunderstandings and secrets, miracles and redemption, hidden personality layers, colorful and quirky locations, and nonlinear storytelling, all to the rockin' tune of various catchy pop songs of previous decades, some instantly familiar, some forgotten but no less fun than when they were first released.

Now: Tarantino imitations have been a dime a dozen since the mid 90s. A look at director/ writer Drew Goddard's resume shows that Goddard is a highly original filmmaker who has absolutely no need to imitate Tarantino or anyone else. Bad Times at the El Royale may be Tarantino-esque in the extreme, but it is no cheap knock-off. It's a gleeful exercise in story, style, and presentation. It's alternately exciting, funny, suspenseful, and thought-provoking. This movie is a lot of fun.