Leah Commandeur is a London based freelance writer from Dublin. She covers things she cares most about e.g film, art and the zeitgeist of the chronically online age of today. Now and again, she ventures into personal essays; which are one part opinions that no one has asked for and two parts thoughts which probably shouldn’t live in the permanency portal that is the internet. She likes to live life on the edge.
She has words in Wonderland, Man About Town, Hard Copy, Every Deja Vu, Screensphere, ODD CRITIC, Pretty Deadly Films and more.
Here are some recent samples of what I’m about:
Alberto Guerra may have portrayed a fierce hitman in his latest role as Darío Sepúlveda in Netflix’s cocaine-dusted Griselda, but in reality, the 42-year-old is “a dad, a carpenter, a normal human being fixing things around the house,” he tells me. Sat in his back garden in Mexico City, in the background of our Zoom call, his dog plods happily and children’s toys are getting warmed up for the day under the early morning sun. A domestic scene worlds away from the drug-laden flamboyant parties and car chases of ‘70s Miami that are the norm in the series that spent three weeks at the top of the streaming service’s Global Top 10 following its late January release.
From the team behind 2010s sensation Narcos, in which Guerra also appeared, the show loosely documents the story of Griselda Blanco, nicknamed “The Godmother of Cocaine”, and the drug empire she built in the United States after fleeing from Colombia with her three sons. The series opens with a quote from drug lord Pablo Escobar, which reads: “The only man I was ever afraid of was a woman named Griselda Blanco,” and across the subsequent six episodes, viewers are immersed in her world defined by power, unsurprisingly cocaine and complex relationships.
When Guerra breaks down the multi-faceted Darío—the third husband of Griselda, who, in the show, is initially contracted to kill her before they fall in love— it’s evident that the softness viewers catch glimpses of in his character was something Guerra brought intentionally to the man behind the hired gun. “I wanted to have something that I could relate to in the character. And it was the fact that everything started changing for him when he fell in love and when he realised he was going to be a father. That's like the breaking point. I wanted to put some elements of my own life into the role because when I realised that I was going to be a father, when my wife told me, I started having these fears as a man that I hadn’t had before. A softer part of my personality started to blossom and I wanted [Darío] to have the same thing,” he admits.
Alberto Guerra talks reuniting with Narcos director Andrés Baiz and harnessing chemistry with on-screen wife, Sofía Vergara.
Man About Town 2024
interviews
On the cusp of an exciting new chapter for the British-American film director, Savannah Leaf, we dive into her debut feature Earth Mama, the art of the communal voice and the power of motherhood.
Wonderland 2023
There are some lucky people in this life that wield the power to do anything that they put their mind to. Savanah Leaf is one of them. From representing Great Britain in the 2012 Olympics for volleyball and finishing a degree in Psychology to gaining her newest title as BAFTA nominated writer and director, she has proved that one trick pony she is not.
“I woke up at like 5 am and I don’t know why. I was just so excited for the day, it’s silly” she says, coffee cup in hand as we get as well acquainted as two people can via Zoom. You wouldn’t think Leaf had been up since the crack of dawn with the contagiously giddy energy that is flowing from her. Full to the brim with caffeine and stories to share, the feeling is that we are just old friends catching up.
The same transparency I find on the other side of our video call on that wet and gloomy February afternoon translates on screen in her debut feature film Earth Mama, which graced the silver screen in the UK this past December. The story follows Gia (Tia Nomore), a young pregnant mother from San Francisco’s Bay Area who is confronting the system that is responsible for keeping her two children from her in foster care. As she battles against the cycle of systemic contributors that are forcing her family apart, she must battle difficult conversations and self reflection as she tries to do the best she can in a society that is unabashedly against her.
“It’s about love, and loss as well grief and longing”, Leaf says when describing why she included Bettye Swann’s sweetly nostalgic “Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye” as an important song in the movie. But for such an emotionally-drenched production, this is also a perfectly succinct way to describe what’s at the core of her story.
Euphoric freedom, total despair, and everything in between: Wonderland sits down with writers Mika Gustafson and Alexander Öhrstrand to discuss Paradise Is Burning, their new feature film now in theatres.
Wonderland 2024
If the title doesn’t give it away, things are far from perfect in Swedish writer-director Mika Gustafson’s debut feature, Paradise Is Burning. Co-written with her creative partner, Alexander Öhrstrand, the film tells the multi-faceted story of three young sisters navigating life on their own after their mother—who remains unseen throughout—abandons them.
Sixteen-year-old Laura is left in charge of tween Mira and five- or six-year-old Steffi. Their newfound freedom might seem like a dream to some kids—no rules, no curfews, and no forced vegetables at dinner—but it quickly becomes clear that growing up too fast is no party. The drama-comedy unfolds on a bed of tender sadness, lovingly sprinkled with an upbeat soundtrack and bursts of comic moments that bring it all together.
Sitting down with Wonderland, Gustafson and Öhrstrand (joined by their 3-month-old baby, Rio) share insights about their creative process, karaoke, and the creation of the world in Paradise Is Burning.
film
Biopics are everywhere. Whether you love them or hate them, they’re inescapable. While it’s not customary for them to be made as the subject(s) are alive, just like everything else they do, West Belfast Irish rap group Kneecap defied the rules and made their semi-autobiographical film just seven years into their music career.
Screensphere 2024
Móglaí Bap (Naoise Ó Cairealláin), Mo Chara (Liam Óg) and DJ Próvaí (JJ O Dochartaigh) who make up the trio play themselves, which makes this already unique feature feel that bit more authentic. Just shy of 2 hours, the screentime is used wisley to introduce newbies to the group and the socio-political background of the North of Ireland, whilst also allowing pre-existing fans to get to see them in a new light.
British writer and director, Rich Peppiatt, captures Kneecap’s infectiously raucous energy that can be witnessed at any of their live shows and emulates this in a pristine mirror image in this laugh out loud exploration of intergenerational trauma, music as a mode of protest and how Gaeilge (Irish language) is cool. By being the inaugural Irish language film at Sundance and walking away with the Audience Award (and An Cailín Ciúin being the first Irish language film nominated for an Oscar just last year), it could be said that Gaeilge is now on the map. Outside of Éire that is.
From childhood to present, the film depicts how vital being a Gaeilgeoir (Irish speaker) is to Móglaí Bap and Mo Chara. An introductory scene shows Móglaí’s on-screen father and die-hard republican, Arlo (Michael Fassbender), teaching the two kids Irish words. Even after Arlo goes on the run and is out of Móglaí’s life for ten years, he still speaks the Irish that meant everything to his father. Not just speaks, but raps too, as we see Mo Chara’s songwriting notebook get discovered by impromptu translator, JJ O Dochartaigh, when he is arrested for refusing to speak English. Rivals, to friends, to musical collaborators – it’s truly beautiful. A peace treaty of their own.
Wonderawards: 10 Films of 2023. From heartwarming comedies to gory horror and trying tales of motherhood, our crème de la crème movies of the year have it all.
Wonderland 2023
With so many praise worthy films released this year, it’s safe to say it was a challenge to narrow it down to just 10, but as the old saying goes – only the strong survive. With a home run of directorial debuts and brand new talent, this year was a breath of fresh air for any movie lover or ritualistic Letterboxd poster. Here’s our year in movies…
Saltburn
Bathtubs, that one grave scene and vampirical urges. Emerald Fennell’s second feature Saltburn, which follows her Oscar winning 2020 directorial debut Promising Young Woman, delightfully doubles its helping of sick and twisted. With a stellar line up headed by Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi and Rosamund Pike, it’s hard to go wrong. The whirlwind journey from Oxford to the ultra grand Catton family home of Saltburn, brings us to the setting for the film’s tumultuous exploration of class, sex, power and obsession. Set to the nostalgic beat of the 2000’s founding mothers Sophie Ellis-Bextor and Madonna; Fennell nailed the heady mix of golden one liners, gruesome visuals and sexual tension to result in a film that you cannot look away from, no matter how much you think you should.
Earth Mama
From Olympian to award winning director, there is nothing Savannah Leaf cannot do. Her debut feature Earth Mama tells the poignant story of the realities of motherhood and the societal inequalities that make being a “cookie cutter” mom an unequal opportunity in today’s world. Single mother Gia, played by rising star and established hip hop artist Tia Nomore, tries her best to navigate her third pregnancy whilst fighting for her two children who are in the Bay Area’s foster care system. Raw and gritty, the cinematography upholds the unabashed genuineness felt throughout the film with a documentary style honesty surrounding it, as we see her try her best to break the cycle of trauma that she fell victim to.
Celine Song’s Past Lives is a tender love letter to the one who got away.
Left Brain Media 2023
In Yun, the Korean concept of reincarnation and fate, is at the core of Korean-Canadian writer and director Celine Song’s achingly honest debut feature, Past Lives. In Yun suggests that the brushing of arms between two mere strangers in the street is only one of the thousands of layers of connection formed over their past lives; that no meeting is coincidental. The film sees Song explore this through the 24 years of Nora (Greta Lee) and Hae Sung’s (Teo Yoo) complex relationship.
A24’s latest production is formed of parallels and sweet, melancholic nostalgia, as we are gifted a glance into Nora and Hae Sung’s journeys from childhood sweethearts to two people who are trying to come to terms with the aftermath of years of distance and growing pains. The 12-year old Na Young (Nora) and Hae Sung we meet share a carefree and naive love, as they bicker over who came first in class tests and hold hands in the back of their parents’ car. Yet, the budding relationship is pulled up by the roots when Na Young’s artist parents announce their intent to emigrate to Canada.
We meet them again 12 years later, in the early 2010s era of Skype and Facebook, with Nora doing a Playwriting MFA in New York and Hae Sung finishing his military service in South Korea. Here, Song depicts the oxymoronic notion of how much can change in 12 years whilst simultaneously, nothing much changing at all. We see the Korean diaspora and concept of identity explored earnestly through Nora. Her reconnection with her old friend who she calls “just so Korean” serves as a reminder of the 12-year-old version of herself, who seems so far from 24-year-old Nora.
personal essays
‘The Fear’: spiralling after a night of drinking
Hard Copy 2023
Why do I do this to myself?
Every. Single. Time.
Flashbacks of no salt, no lime, no hope of cutting the violent assault I overpaid for. Over and over again. I feel like I'm dead.
Maybe this is the end.
It begins in my head, the pulsating in my brain, punctuating each word.
Every. Single. Time. Poor man's iambic pentameter.
It always starts the same. I test that my mouth still functions by muttering the words aloud. Vowels fumble into one another due to a severe case of cottonmouth. My teeth, whilst seemingly all there, feel on the cusp of decay. My tongue tasted like the cigarettes I swore to have given up.
I'm alive.
My limbs are reminiscent of a newborn calf's - weak from lack of use and comically floppy. Each step from my bed feels like I'm pushing against the force of gravity. The outfit graveyard under my toes like landmines. The trip to the bathroom in my creased clothes from the night before is my flatmate's 30-second opportunity to question if she lives with a real adult. This exact moment is the only time I won't be offended if she thinks this.
Sometimes, the sweat and remaining scum of foundation clogging my pores makes me look radiant. 5 steps to achieve that hungover glow! The leftover mascara rimming my eyes brings out the green in them. I look attractive and mysterious, like a woman written by a man in a 90s rom-com. My guts feel like they'll pour out of my belly button, but at least I'll die sexy.
etc.
Valeria Duca’s Paintings are a Window Into 21st Century Womanhood
ODD CRITIC, 2024
Chisinau, Moldova. Hometown to 12 year old Duca and the stage for her debut exhibition. Bright, abstract and bold, even then. Venice Biennale, 2011. 16 year old Duca enters the international art space for the first time. The UK, one year later. She begins Art History studies at the University of St Andrews. Now at 29, in Oslo, she has exhibitions from around the globe under her belt in her 16 year long career, and has captured what it feels like to be a young woman today like no other. Bright, surreal, and too close to home—her current form.
The transition from girlhood to womanhood is a frightening, maddening experience that is often difficult to translate tangibly into text. With much of the shift happening internally it is not so easy to mirror this to the outside world if not in a shared look, moment, ritual. If you love Fiona Apple and HBO’s Girls, Duca is here to complete your triptych. Luckily, no words are needed to aid Duca in her depiction of this universal experience. Oil paints, a reference image of a model (but more often of herself) and an understanding of the fragmentation of self, memory, depression, and madness is all she needs to create art that is at its core 21st century womanhood.
Daido Moriyama: A Retrospective
Wonderland 2023
The Photographer’s Gallery in Soho’s Photography Quarter is the current home to a historic retrospective on one of the most influential street photographers of our time, Daido Moriyama. Spanning all four floors of the building’s gallery space, the exhibition invites the public to reflect on his six-decade long career in chronological order from his first photo book Japan: A Photo Theatre (1968) to his ongoing project Record magazine.
While best known for his gritty street photography his work spans beyond this as he refuses to limit his art to just one thing. Moriyama is a rule breaker, with his art rejecting the traditional expectations laid out for the photographers of his generation. In place of pretty and pristine he opts to interrogate and challenge the world through his lens. This revolutionary attitude toward the craft is evident throughout his career, yet most prevalent and unforgiving in his earlier works.
His signature are bure boke style, which translates from Japanese to grainy, blurry and out of focus, was established during his time with Provoke magazine in the late sixties. While the themes during this period had more intimate and erotic tones, this aesthetic long outlived his short stint with the publication. From this point on, he combines this unique style with his other influences such as his tangible curiosity of New York, and his inspiration and fellow artist Andy Warhol. A desire to portray reality through his art was also not something up for negotiation with Moriyama, as he depitcs the impact of the second world war on Japan following the newly inflicted western influence as a result of the US military occupation.
Bittersweet bliss is served on Fog Lake’s ‘Midnight Society’
Every Deja Vu 2023
The leaves are turning red, your breath mimics little clouds in the crisp winter air, and Fog Lake’s discography plays in your ears like you’re the main character of your own indie movie—or it should be if he isn’t on your radar. Newfoundland native Aaron Powell, more famously known by his moody moniker Fog Lake, is the lo-fi singer-songwriter who skillfully tugs on the heartstrings.
Existing in the same achy realm as Bon Iver and Cyberbully Mom Club, the evocative songwriting and wistful chords from Fog Lake make you feel a heady wash of emotions in a mere 3-minute track: from anguish and sorrow to serenity and adoration. Since the inception of his first lengthy somber album, There’s A Spirit There’s A Soul, in 2012, he has mastered merging melancholy and comfort seamlessly into one—despite them historically being contradictory foes. This is what sets him apart from the already saturated scene of Indie Folk craftsmen: his ability to make you feel two things at once.
Fog Lake’s distinct textured and honest sound from his debut release continues to hold true in the poppier album Midnight Society, released earlier this year. Despite his latest release hosting half the amount of songs as his first album, Fog Lake continues to flaunt his range with ease, ranging from lighter tempo tracks such as “Play Dead” to the slower and more reflective “Tripwire” as we creep toward the end of the tracklist. The album is lighter than his past releases, more so in the brighter and warmer melodies rather than the songwriting, which is just as hard-hitting as ever.