Edgar Wright’s Last Night In Soho is not a movie: it’s a vibe. Drenched in neon lights and a distinct 1960s aesthetic, Last Night In Soho was certainly a satisfying way to spend one hundred and sixteen minutes of a Monday evening, but the movie is ultimately crippled by its own superficiality, more interested in vapid commentary rather than making a definitive statement. Granted, you could argue that Edgar Wright’s last movie Baby Driver was also an exercise in pure superficiality, but that movie had the good taste to own it with its insane, massively over the top action sequences. Last Night In Soho meanwhile feels bizarrely too restraint for its own good in spots.
That’s the weird thing. I spent much of the movie quietly waiting for the moment where it went completely off the rails (which I felt like I was promised by the trailer), but that doesn’t really materialise in the way I’d hoped. There are some decent scares, but nothing that felt truly visceral or nightmarish beyond the inherent weirdness of the time travel plot that Wright sketches out.
On that note, the plot of the film might be thin, but there are some interesting questions being asked. After all, we like to associate the 1960s with being a time of changing cultural attitudes, but this movie highlights that the London of today might indeed have a disturbing amount in common with the London of the ‘60s: mostly for worse. The more this thought unravels as the movie goes on, the more our protagonist Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie), a first-year student at the London college of fashion, grows sceptical about how much she should be identifying with that particular era in her work.
It might be basic in its premise, but I can’t deny that the story is well articulated, and the sets and costume design are exceptionally well realised. There is a clear distinction between the hustle-bustle of modern-day London, and the languid, dream-like way in which ‘60s London is presented. The lighting, set design and costume design all serve to illustrate that contrast. Edgar Wright’s creative instincts are too damn good to call movie bad by a long shot.
Anya Taylor-joy largely steals the show. She is perfectly cast and delivers a brilliantly seductive performance as Sandie, an enigmatic performer looking for a job at the clubs in Soho. Again, this movie is an example where all the pieces are in place to make something really special, but the film’s commitment to doing the absolute bear minimum in order to convey its shaky message means, while far from a total misfire, Last Night In Soho falls a shade short of greatness.