9.5/10. There are times when I feel jaded as a viewer. When it seems like despite the breadth of films out there, that I know most of the tricks, to where while I can appreciate a film's achievements in sort of a detached way, when I can even be engaged and invested in something, it doesn't necessarily reach me in the way that movies did when I first started watching them. The scope of appreciation has widened, but the emotional resonance feels muted, because I can't help but see the strings.
And then a film like Room comes along.
And Jack sees the expanse of sky for the first time. And Joy hugs her parents after not seeing them for seven years. And Robert can't even look at his grandson. And Nancy tells her daughter that she's not the only one whose life was destroyed. And Joy tells her mother that if she hadn't been taught to be nice, she might never have gone with Nick. And there's a supreme, heartbreaking look of guilt on her face when a reporter asks if she should have given her son up while in captivity. And Jack walks in on his mother's suicide attempt. And Nancy hears her grandson say "I love you." And Jack sees a real live dog, and makes a real live friend, and cuts his hair to give his mother his strength.
And I wince and I laugh and I cry and I gasp at this beautiful, devastating, intimate, life-affirming film. This is why we make movies. I love popcorn films, with the fights and flashes and epic feel, and I love the big dramas, with their scope and their sense of grandness and the talent on display, and I love those classic film comedies that mix the absurd and the irreverent and the memorable into a single hilarious package. But the films like Room simultaneously so small and so personal, yet so powerful and affecting, have a special place. These are, as Robert Ebert once put it, the empathy machine that is film working at peak efficiency, taking us into the lives of people who have suffered and been unfathomably wronged, and carries us with them as they carve out a way forward.
I didn't know I wanted a film that feels like a cross between Oldboy, Life Is Beautiful, and Boyhood, and yet the elements Room shares with each--the sense of isolation, the loving way in which a parent tries to distract their child from a continuing tragedy, the slice-of-life, impressionistic depiction of a young boy's innocence--come together to form something absolutely tremendous.
That last facet of the film, the fact that it filters the entire experience through young Jack's eyes, is a stroke of brilliance. There's a matter of factness, a certain directness or even blitheness to the way children experience the world. Using Jack as the lens through which Room tells its story renders those events not only realer, but plainer, imbuing them with the unvarnished perception of childhood. The way the film is able to get into Jack's head, to allow the audience to view these horrors and steps to recovery through his eyes, is its greatest strength and most impressive achievement.
By the same token, Brie Larson as Joy deserves all the accolades she's received for her performance here. While still a prisoner, she carries herself with such an air of both utter resignation and quiet resolve, someone who's been beaten into submission but carries on with whatever she has left. And once she returns home, the guilt that consumes her, the anger that she has for the world that kept turning without her, are palpable in every moment without fading into overwroughtness.
The film can essentially be divided into those two halves. The first is the story of Jack and Joy in Room, of the way that Joy makes unbearable circumstances livable for her son, the way that she copes and shields Jack from the horror around him, and how Jack strains and struggles to understand the idea of the world beyond those four walls, to where he can, eventually, help the two of them escape. The second half is far less intense, but still endlessly intriguing and affecting. It's a quiet domestic story about how people recover from that sort of trauma, both Joy who feels the opposite of survivor's guilt and second guesses herself, and Jack who is exposed to a big scary world, the depth and breadth of which is entirely alien to him.
But throughout both halves, there is such a pure emotional truth in each moment, from the simple joys that Jack enjoys within the home he doesn't realize is a prison, to his anger and resistance at having that fantasy shattered, to Joy's dispirited but resolute attempts to keep him happy and healthy, to the realistic, painful difficulties parents and children face when rebuilding a family seven years after a tragedy, to the wonder and fear a small boy has for what lies beyond the garden gate, and the unmitigated joy at every step taken toward some cobbled-together normalcy. Room is a beautiful, heart-wrenching, intensely personal film, that takes an unflinching yet uplifting look at how people cope and come back from the worst that our world has to offer.
I was a big fan of The Good Wife and I loved the first two seasons of The Good Fight, but holy hell did it go to shit in the third season.
Let me preface by saying I'm a progressive and a staunch feminist. That being said, I still found season 3 unbearable. It's pandering, plain and simple: while The Good Wife regularly plundered the headlines and wore its politics on its sleeve, it still tried to tell a compelling story and presented its ideas in a nuanced manner. The character of Kurt, for instance, was created specifically to represent a more conservative point of view and present a foil for Diane's progressive views. In so doing, it gave us fantastic character drama.
Well, all that is gone in season 3. Now we get flashes of Eric and Don Junior as Diane throws axes to relieve her utter hatred of the Trump Administration. We get Diane arguing with a Trump-shaped bruise on her husband's shoulder, lamenting "Where did the men go wrong." We get Schoolhouse Rock-like interjections featuring shitty music that wink so hard at the audience that the writers must have sprained their eyelids writing them.
Again, my problem isn't with the show's political views. It's with the inane manner in which they've abandoned all objectivity and nuance to give us a bizarre, one-sided revenge fantasy where Diane rages on and on about Trump's existence. It's entertainment for the liberal echo chamber, not a clever discourse on modern politics.
And meanwhile, the characters have devolved into caricatures. If you liked how The Good Wife featured quasi-realistic courtroom drama, tough luck, the courtroom action no longer makes any damn sense.
And so I'm out. Although the first two seasons made it feel like The Good Wife could go on forever, I guess this is the moment I have to say goodbye. You folks had a good run, but somewhere along the way you bought your own cleverness and forgot to tell a gripping drama.
When I read the synopsis of Like Crazy I imagined a different film, I thought that I was about to see another romantic teenage drama but afterall it is a very interesting portrait about long distance relationships and the consequences of it.
In Los Angeles, Jacob and his British college collegue Anna fall in love with each other. Anna was supposed to return to the UK after graduation but she violates her student visa to stay with Jacob during the summer and because of that she was banned to enter in the US. They are madly in love. How a love like this can survive? That's what we see in this beautiful and heartbreaking little indie film.
Time changes people and what once was strong and powerful some unfortunate situations in life, like the one we follow in this story, can change everything and one day things can not be the same. Distance changed their feelings but there were always something inside of them that kept them together even miles and miles away from each other. But this film has an open ending and you are free to think whatever you want, and take your own conclusions.
What I liked more about this story was the fact that it does not follow the usual clichès. Everything about it is very honest.
Felicity Jones and Anton Yelchin performances felt absolutely natural and real. Their chemistry was great.
I've been a fan of Taylor's music for a long time but for a while I refrained myself from being too vocal about my support for her as a person, because it wasn't cool and we were all supposed to think this and that about her and if you didn't you were labelled all sorts of things, so instead of defending her i just didn't say anything, and enjoyed her music outside of that sphere of drama and controversy. But with Taylor it's really hard to fall in love with her music and not instinctively fall in love with her too, because everything that she is she puts into those songs, those lyrics, those melodies, so if you love her music then that means you love her, and i soon figured that out. The way she's grown and become more vocal about everything we all already thought she had in her is really inspiring and, in my opinion, what she needed to fully become an icon, because icons have to stand for something and help change history with their platform, which is music, which happens to be the wider reaching form of art there is in this world. I'm so so happy she's finally showing the world what she stands for, cus it's not hard to see that privately the values have been there from day one. I really never wanted this docu to end, i wanted it to have 3 hours. Fuck The Irishman, give me 3 and a half hours of Miss Americana instead.
Knives Out perhaps is not the best written movie out in this year, but surely it is one among the most entertaining.
Saying the film is predictable is not wrong, but it is missing the point. Just toward the first halves the film dropped plenty of clues toward pointing the suspect of the crime, but the point was not about "who did it", but "how and why it was done." Indeed, perhaps in the first half audience is intentionally misled to get the impression of typical murder mystery through Knives Out stylistic "who did it" fashion, but as the film goes it shows that there is more to it especially since what and who cause the murder is already revealed in the middle of the film.
If one pays attention to the details. audience have been invited to ask ourselves about the mystery of the process of the murder - on the continuously shaking legs and the barking dogs - and even the especially charming Daniel Craig asked us, almost invitingly, who really hired him and why? The twist and turn is not about the result; but the process.
And doing that, Rian Johnson is still able to slip a neat "moral of the story", with a rather bittersweet moment when the truth is finally revealed. "You're a good person who follows your heart" might be one of the most repeatedly cliche, but taking a backdrop of distrust and money in a family drama, Johnson's words spoken through Craig's character with his characteristic accent made the delivery much more impactful. The slick cinematography and excellent music directing in the whole movie supports this perfectly paced murder mystery.
There is a notable questionable holes that may push you from your suspension of disbelief, but still: a delightful Christmas story to end the year; Knives Out is one film I'd recommend to get you absorbed to its intricate details.
