Grade: B+ (for ambition) / C- (for enjoyment)
Watching Vox Lux feels like standing too close to a speaker at a stadium pop concert: it’s loud, disorienting, occasionally brilliant, and ultimately numbing. Brady Corbet’s operatic tragedy isn’t really a music biopic. It’s a horror film about the birth of modern fame—specifically, the kind of fame that eats its young and spits out a hollowed, sequined shell. Vox Lux
Portman is terrifyingly good—not in a glamorous way, but in a way that captures the exhausted, drug-dulled, narcissistic meltdown of someone who peaked at 14. She struts, snarls, and slurs her way through the role. You can’t look away, but you also don’t want to get close. Grade: B+ (for ambition) / C- (for enjoyment)
is where Corbet intentionally loses many viewers. Celeste (now played by Natalie Portman with a brutal, unhinged Staten Island accent) is a global pop star on the eve of a comeback concert. She’s also a mess: recovering from spinal surgery, fighting with her sister/manager (a superb Jude Law), and raising a daughter who seems to be a clone of her worst traits. Portman is terrifyingly good—not in a glamorous way,