It captures horror through a horrifying everyday life, using the viewer's cinematic memory to reflect the perversion of the Holocaust off-screen. The invisible look at the daily life of a family that has achieved their aspirations as human beings, at the same time dehumanizes them, and the introduction of expressive overhead shots breaks that invisibility to show the most direct reality. The director takes risky decisions that manage to integrate perfectly, and an ending that places us directly in the horror of the denials of the reality that we constantly live.
Park Chan wook pays his particular tribute to "Vertigo" (1958), the romanticism turned into obsession. I'm not sure if the pieces fit perfectly, but this puzzle of mystery and ambiguity provokes curiosity. It seems that the film is made to need more than one viewing to capture all its details. Perhaps if the frills are removed, the story will end up being too simple, but it is a romance from the perspective of a director who always imagines the most surprising point of view.
It is again a show that tries to build an environment so complex that it never ends up going too deep into it. And, as is becoming too common, it gives the impression that there are two linked stories, that of the puppeteer Vincent and that of the policeman Michael, which come together to form a whole that ends up being dispersed. And it ends up being more interesting in the section that focuses on the secondary character than the one that develops the main character. There are so many ups and downs in the plot that it ' difficult to know if this is a disappointing series or just a poorly developed story.
[HBO Max] It uses most of the resources of animated cinema in a story that is unbalanced between wanting to please all audiences and trying to focus on the child's gaze. Like when it tries to build an empowered female lead, but ends up inevitably fueled by a romantic relationship. It is something like wanting to provide positive messages but that deep down contain a deep traditional look. The animation is well executed without being overly shiny and the soundtrack finds inspiration in Jerry Goldsmith, but the story is too boring and cliché.
[tv+] There is a tense construction in the two central characters of this show that manage to maintain a constant pulse throughout the entire season. Especially when it surrounds them with an ambiguity in which we sometimes doubt both the probable corrupt activities of Peter Capaldi's Hagerty and the psychological stability of Cush Jumbo's June Lenker. So the story always manages to stay on the knife's edge to lead to an outcome that is less predictable than it might seem. Which is already an important merit.
[Netflix] Sorrentino looking Fellini face to face, paying tribute to his mentor Antonio Capuano, loving cinema as an escape from reality, but transferring his own reality to cinema. The tragedy of life as the driving force behind the coming-of-age, women as sexual objects, the religion of football, the family as ballast and as an impulse. Loving and hating, laughing and crying, the contradictions of life.
A clever chronicle of disappointment, the downfall of a myth, Dr. Huxtable meets Mr. Hyde. One of the most resounding descriptions of sexual abuse that broadens the look towards the depth of its consequences. Kamaus Bell reflects on the artist and the sexual predator, and on the "rape culture" that he has allowed (and allows) that defends the guilty and disapproves of the victims. The best definition is given by a victim: "Bill Cosby is a master at his craft. Whether it be acting, comedy or raping, he is a master."
[Netflix] The film masterfully handles subtext, it has an emotional background that is expressed without the need for dialogue. The filming in New Zealand gives an almost dreamlike aspect to the landscapes of this anti-western, a kind of reverse of the genre. There is a constant tension that is shown in the distorted strings and sepulchral winds of Jonny Greenwood's music.
Absolutely creative, perfectly told in the form of a story that is almost fantasy (the use of mirrors). Bravo represents a story from Twitter with irony (Stefani's version) and with visual and sound ideas (the use of colors) that seem to have no end. An entertaining but at the same time profound reflection on social networks and their influence. A film in which small details are discovered in each scene. emoji heart.
It is so absurd in all its development that in the end we only have to surrender to a plot full of inconsistencies and situations (from police officers who leave their computers on, while they talk to a journalist, to CIA agents who don't know where the Chinese Embassy in London is). With Richard Armitage comfortable in his prestige roles for mediocre English dramas, the show ends up being as intense as Hijack (Apple tv+, 2023) was, and is a silly entertainment to while away the afternoon without thinking too much about all the silly things happening on screen. It's the perfect show to binge and end up forgetting about in a matter of minutes.
[Netflix] It's difficult to call this sequel/reboot disappointing when the previous one was an exercise in suspense that didn't really work either. The attempt to offer an explanation, however, seems too lazy, with no clear justification for the protagonist's actions. It surprises a cast of wasted actors with some flat and cliché secondary characters, and despite the different context it ends up being extremely boring. It is interesting to broaden our gaze towards other scenarios, but it's a mistake to ask the Pastor brothers to do "The last days" (2013) again.
[Disney+] If the first episodes suggest a disappointing transformation of the original story into a kind of artificially inclusive youth adventure, the development ends up defining a series that confuses the parodic tone of adventure stories with a silly sense of humor. There is an obvious lack of budget whose action takes place mainly inside caves and interiors, and with CGI that seems from 90s video games (that final shot). But above all, there is a lack of pace and such bland characters that make the film a masterpiece of adventure cinema, which it obviously is not. They threaten with two more volumes.
[Netflix] Following the fashion of rich filmmakers parodying the rich people, from Mike White to Ruben Östlund, in the end it seems that these stories don't have much to say beyond the sarcastic tone and some of that hypocrisy that consists of showing the luxury to subvert it and reassure the viewer: being rich sucks. But at least the first film was fun with its references to Agatha Christie and its tone of crazy comedy that in this boring and poorly performed sequel are replaced by disruptive fireworks in which not even Benoit Blanc has the leading role it deserves.
[Netflix] Russo Bros. make "arthouse" films in the same tone as Captain America and clones of "Mission: Impossible" with the same apathy as their Avengers. There's so much abuse of drone shots that it seems that some character is going to fly away. And while second-unit directors do an amazing job, this overpriced Netflix toy (from when they hadn't already kicked out hundreds of workers) is boring 200 million times.
[Sheffield/Doc '22] There are some problems in the documentary, but it offers an accurate portrait of the activism and rebellion of a singer marked by domestic abuse and disappointment with Catholicism. More focused on the controversial aspects than on the music itself, it draws a clever parallel between personal experience and the religious oppression of a country, which in the end enriches the film.
It is contradictory that, the worse fit they have in the MCU, the more interesting these proposals for series of lateral characters are. In this case, there is a remarkable approach to multiple personality disorder that, mixed with Egyptian mythology, offers a very striking proposal. But, when it tries to regain the connection to the MCU, it becomes conventional and uninspiring. Oscar Isaacs is superb.
If the 2000 documentary underlined the caricature, this film wants to redeem her, giving the impression that neither of them manages to adequately reveal the character, with her contradictions (an evangelist turned gay icon) and its merits (the visibility of AIDS in the 1985 interview). Jessica Chastain's work is remarkable because she manages to shed the physical appearance to convey Tammy's inner instability.
[HBO Max] Documentary series in which two film directors and some friends of Ava DuVernay explain their film techniques. Fortunately, the monographic episodes allow you to view only the truly relevant ones (Michael Mann and Aaron Sorkin). But mixing the directing techniques of "Heat" (1995) with that of "Girls trip" (2017) does not seem like the best formula for this documentary show to be taken seriously.
It uses horror to build a reflection of the passage of time, of the immediacy of beauty (Vera Valdez, the grandmother, was a model for Coco Chanel), wrapped in a story of witchcraft and decrepitude. It makes clever use of sounds, of the creaks of the old apartment, and has a soundtrack that sets a dark atmosphere rather than simply highlighting the tense moments. But it is a simple horror, low risk, whose references to "Repulsion" (Roman Polanski, 1975) works against him.
The director finally returns to the places where he feels most comfortable, building a comedy that seems to be reflected in Luis García Berlanga, and that manages to portray the idiosyncrasies of an entire country in a particular story. Impressive Javier Bardem in a character that balances perfectly between cartoon and reality, supported by a script that is precise in timing and structure.
[Netflix] An original biography, with an attractive visual idea that proposes a hybrid between fiction and personal essay, through Colin Kaepernick's reflections on racism in a minimalist setting. The series does not shy away from controversy, it even feeds it, and it can be debatable in its social discourse, but it assumes its status as a reflective drama with surprising narrative findings, and a kind of ability to convey emotions that other mainstream biopics do not have.
[Netflix] A love letter to New York from a critical perspective. These conversations between Fran Lebowitz and Martin Scorsese, which continue the documentary "Public speaking" (HBO, 2010), reel off diverse topics with a sense of humor. You could say that it is a snobbish, old-fashioned and curmudgeon look, but that is precisely one of the virtues of Lebowitz's words. And, above all, it is a chronicle of cultural life in a magical and dark city.
The second season largely maintains the interest of the first, but knows how to expand the story to other limits that pose different plots. Some characters are more blurred, such as Lee Scoresby's, and it seems like a season of preparation, of placing the pieces for a more ambitious adventure that would foreseeably come with its third season.
One of the weirdest documentary series that can be found. The irony of John Wilson manifests itself in episodes with strange themes such as scaffolding or ways of covering furniture. The mastery of the project is in how it manages to make each episode drift towards unusual paths, which cast doubt on the lucidity of the human being. It is an unusual look at life, a discovery of the most remote places of our existence.
[Sheffield '23] Although it may raise the debate on the limits of explicit images of war, especially in relation to childhood, this documentary doesn't feel like a sensationalist film but rather an honest reflection of the reality of the chaos experienced by the city of Mariupol, reduced to rubble in just two months. A journalistic work that tries to dismantle the accusations of propaganda (including staging with actors) made by Russia, but which is not reduced to 20 days after the first bombings, but rather reflects the reality of Ukraine today.
[tv+] Throughout this kind of anthology that establishes connections between the characters, there are some stories that are more interesting than others, especially as it moves forward in time and show more distant possible futures. It isn't so much a question of imagining a future marked by climate change, but of forecasting, based on current scientific data, what life in our society would be like in forty years from now. There is less dystopia to propose some solutions through bioengineering, and although it is inevitably discursive, the proposal is more interesting than usual.
It has an engaging approach that turns an environmental drama into a Christmas dark comedy. The mixture of genres does not fully achieve balance, but when the script focuses on the third act, it builds a final part that is very emotional, and that makes us reflect on the importance that only five minutes can have. Lorne Balfe does an outstanding job, composing a Christmas soundtrack that hides large doses of irony.
Watching a PWSA movie is like eating an extremely salty popcorn. It does taste like popcorn, but the intense flavor ends up being unpleasant. The director gives what he thinks is expected, and don't expect characters development. Non-stop action edited as if it were a two hours trailer, one second per shot. A mix between "Mad Max" and "Pirates of the Caribbean", better in the scenes with Milla Jovovich and Tony Jaa. Diablo!
[Netflix] It could be interpreted as a lighter version of "Ramy" (2019) but at the same time that's what makes it interesting. Mo is a character who doesn't question his beliefs, but it's also an example of how different cultures and religions can exist without colliding. An optimistic look that nevertheless has a melancholic subtext about the lack of identity and the feeling of guilt of the children of refugees.
After tackling themes such as memory and trauma, the season finale focuses on guilt and does so with the consistency it has had in four seasons. In some way, and especially since the S2, it uses investigations to develop Ambrose's psychological wounds, one of the most complex profiles that have been created in recent years. This season is headed for a kind of healing, but one that also contains doses of ambiguity.
