After we lost Andre, I started a re-watch of B99. It is one of the best procedural police settings that isn't a drama. The jokes and situations always provide a good laugh. Each character adds to the story in their own way while complimenting the others. My favorite character is and will forever be, Capt. Holt. Close second is Rosa.
We will miss you Andre, you left us too soon :persevere:
So after waiting 5 seasons for them to get together, now they go and separate them! WTF!!!!!
I'm exhausted. This tension, the politics, the intrigue, even to the last second. So much is happening in this episode. So much concealed under such elegant garments.
In one way I look forward to the finale next week, however I'm not sure how they are going to fit what I was anticipating to be in this episode into the last, unless it is a 3hr episode, but I think it won't be such.
The other way I'm looking forward to the finale, is I no longer will need to invest all my emotion and attention in this concentration of spectacle and the craft of each Actor performing to perfection their role, and appreciating each word, glance, and interaction with their counterparts in such a magnificent, stunning location.
I'll be ready for this finale but until then I'll be soaking in what I've watched today. What a pleasure it is to witness what the Arts can deliver if given a proper opportunity.
Thank you to the Creators, Actors, Crew, and Those That have painstakingly brought this masterpiece to us.
The conundrum has set in... I desperately want to see the last episode now, but I don't want it to be the last show. 10/10
What a Bloody outstanding show! This is the first time I've ever wanted to give a show a genuine 11/10!
The writing brings out all of the respect, honour and dignity, even in deception. I love this epic and especially this episode (although once I see next week's episode I'll no doubt rave over that too), there is no dumbing down for the audience, you need to be immersed.
When 'Mariko' translating as she does 'Blackthorne's' words to 'Toranaga' and the sublime transition turning to 'Blackthorne' with eyes the sharpness of a sword, to ask "Shall I translate this too, or is this directed to me". Outstanding.
Each and every actor, no matter who they represent in this epic 'goes all in', for their character, their craft in acting is flawless. If there was any legitimacy in the Academy or in any entertainment award for actors, crew and show, Shōgun would do a clean sweep without exception, even though we still have two episodes to go.
Shōgun is definitely the pinnacle of any show I've had the privilege of watching in my six decades of life. This is not a throw away comment as I am an enthusiast in quality entertainment for most my life.
I cannot wait to own this on UHD Bluray boxset when it's released. Outstandingly Brilliant. 11/10
[8.9/10] A title like The Holdovers has a double meaning. On a basic level, it’s simply the technical term for the three individuals--a teacher, a student, and a kitchen manager--all spending their holiday break on the grounds of the New England boarding school they call home during the year.
But in a broader sense, it refers to people who have been left behind, who remain in some uncertain limbo not just in where they lay their heads, but in their lives as a whole. The nominal goal at the center of the film is for this trio of disregarded remainders to make it to the New Year without wrecking each other or the school. But its broader aim is to give each of them a direction, a connection, and something that jostles each of them from their different flavors of sad stupor and toward a reinvigorated purpose.
The results are, in turn, uproarious, heartbreaking, and ultimately moving. The Holdovers has its antecedents: from the locked-in mischief and camaraderie of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest to the young man struggling with trauma a la Catcher in the Rye, to countless broader flicks about grumbly instructors warming up to rambunctious students. But there’s a greater depth, a clearer sense of open-wounded humanity, a distinctiveness in how its main players are formed and bounced off one another, that makes the film feel unlike any other.
It wouldn’t achieve that success without its triumvirate of great character and even greater performance. Paul Hunham could easily have been little more than a walking trope -- a stuffy and curmudgeonly civics teacher who’s hard on his students but betrays a hidden heart of gold. Instead, writer David Hemingson makes him more complex than that. Hunham is grumpy and hidebound before softening to this charge, yes, but he’s also a depressed drunkard, pessimistic about the world’s prospects for the future, with his dreams whittled down by the same forces that grind the other Holdovers, in various ways. Even that could have been a prestige picture cliche, but Paul Giamatti’s performance gives Hunham such spirit, and so many layers behind each grand pronouncement and reluctant, heartfelt compromise. Together, Hemingson and Giamatii make a broad archetype of a character feel achingly human, which is no small achievement.
Likewise, Angus Tully, the bright but trouble-making student unexpectedly left behind by his mother and inclined to rebel against Hunham’s supervision, could also have been a stock cliche. The recalcitrant but troubled youth who fights back against, but ultimately confides in their mandated caretaker is no less traditional a tale. And yet, again, the script doesn’t leave Tully as a one-note stereotype, but instead, gives him a cleverness, a sense of compassion, and a deep well of pain that makes him more than that outline. At the same time, twenty-year-old Dominic Sessa conveys the anger, hurt, and unassuming innocence of Angus to perfection. He cuts the figure of a young Alan Alda with both his snark and his sadness, and delivers a challenging performance for a young actor without stumbling once.
But it’s Da'Vine Joy Randolph--who plays Mary Lamb, the school’s head cook--that steals the show. Unlike Mr. Hunham and Angus, Mary is not the type of character you see much of in either these scholastic coming-of-age stories or prestige pictures. She is a black woman who works among the downstairs set in contrast to the mostly white, upper crust pupils and professors who reside upstairs. She is a woman bathed in grief, having lost both her husband and her son before they turned twenty-five. And most importantly, she is a full-fledged part of the film’s central trifecta, whose needs and concerns get the same attention and focus as her counterparts who are more often spotlighted in these stories.
Her inner life is potent and conspicuous. The things she’s feeling deeply at all times but never saying come through loud and clear amid Randolph’s powerhouse performance. She delivers the film’s signature scene, a furious, crestfallen, devastating lament in a suburban kitchen about the child and partner both gone too soon, with their absences all the more noticeable and piercing in what should be a season of joy. Like all the characters in the film, Mary is more than her trauma, with moments of kindness, levity, and insight just as memorable, but in a movie full of heart-rending monologues and stellar performances, Randolph takes the prize.
Despite the sense of hurt and alienation at the core of the film, The Holdovers is an unexpectedly hilarious movie. Angus’ antics to entertain himself and/or tweak Mr. Hunham have the shaggy whimsy of teenage rebellion. Mr. Hunham dispenses vulgar insults that tickle the funny bone, like “too dumb to pour piss out of a boot” and “penis cancer in hidden form.” The actors provide bouts of great physical comedy, from Angus’ disobedient gym floor flop, to Hunham’s ridiculous football-flubbing flail. And Mary has a dry wit that singes and can get a big laugh with a reaction shot alone. For a movie as unafraid to explore blunted hearts and lingering traumas, it’s full of humor and vigor that makes it come off like a fulsome view of life’s ups and downs, rather than a shameless tear-jerker or sap dispensary.
Nonetheless, there is a thematic undercurrent beneath all that pain and exclusion -- privilege. The recurring motif of The Holdovers is the idea that there are people who manage to wriggle out of the harshest obligations in this world, from schoolwork to plagiarism to war, because of power and position and the dishonesty and dishonor it can cover for. Some people go to Ivy league schools and get safe cushy jobs whether they have the intelligence or character for it, and others die in labor-intensive fields where worker safety is secondary to output quotas. Grades are inflated, service workers are casually demeaned, racism is tolerated, so long as it all comes from a class of people who don’t realize how lucky they have it.
The zenith of this is the Vietnam War, which hangs in the background of this seventies-set film. For all Angus’ legitimate issues, Hunham calms him down when he gets into a snit with a local missing a hand, since the teacher intuits how and why the injury happened. And the grandest injustice in the film is Mary’s son, sent off to fight and die in ‘Nam, when he had the grades, but not the funds, to go to college, denied the student deferment from the draft that would come alongside a university education. This sense of unconscionable disparity between the haves and the have-nots--one group excused from even the most minor of consequences for their actions, and one group forced to suffer the worst of them despite doing everything right--pervades the movie.
But it is also what unites Mary, Angus, and Mr. Hunham. Though thrown together by circumstance, and very different people on the surface, they find solace and understanding in one another, and it’s the most heartening part of the film. That comes through in the elegant cinematography of Eigil Bryld. The visuals of The Holdovers are not flashy, but they are quietly brilliant. Each frame is perfectly composed to convey the character of the grounds, or the ridiculousness of a gag, or the burgeoning intimacy that steadily washes over the main trio.
All three of them are touched by loss and loneliness. Mary still mourns her husband and her son, and is all but spit on by entitled twits who insult her cooking in a job she took to provide for a child who’ll never have the same life or opportunity. Mr. Hunham is, on his account at least, a low-level teacher, scorned by his students and his peers, alone in the wake of a long-since-failed shot at love, isolated and barely able to muster half-a-dream after being kicked out of Harvard for a privileged roommate’s intellectual theft. And Angus is abandoned over the holidays by a mother off to honeymoon with his new stepdad, a reminder of the mentally disturbed father whom he’s forbidden to see, and cursed with a parent in a state of living death -- physically there but mentally gone -- something all the more devastating for a young soul in particular.
So they share drinking problems. They share depression medication. They share flailing grasps for human connection that are reached for then rejected in a state of guilt and self-loathing. And eventually, they share a particular sort of bond that emerges from commiseration and acts of kindness, from recognizing one another’s pain and helping them through it, from seeing how the system works for others and stealing a piece of it for one another.
You can see it in the progression of “what Barton men do.” Angus lies about the cause of his dislocated shoulder to protect Mr. Hunham’s job, a falsehood the teacher accepts with some lecturing about honesty. Only then, Mr. Hunham lies to an old classmate about his career, reasoning that truthful or not, giving his social betters the satisfaction of his comparatively sorry state is not something he owes them.
And in the film’s close, when Angus’ mom and stepdad arrive to excoriate their son and his erstwhile babysitter for daring to let a lonely boy visit his father on Xmas, Mr. Hunham has an out. Angus’ guardians all but invite Mr. Hunham to throw Angus to the wolves, to say that the young man tricked him or “slipped the leash”, which would be half-true. Instead, Mr. Hunham lies in order to take full responsibility; he dissembles to excuse the young man entirely, sacrificing his job and the content-if-stagnant life he’s enjoyed for decades to save Angus’ future.
That is the crux of the film. The key message comes earlier when Hunham reassures Angus that he will not become like his father. Despite his obsession with the classics, he decries the Greek poets’ belief that our path is set and resistance only ensures submission to fate. Your destiny is your own, he implores the young man, and it’s not too late, never too late, to change it.
So Mary will still carry the scars of loved ones taken from her too soon, but she can make space to laugh and reminisce with her sister, and save for her newborn nephew who will carry on the name, and hopefully the spirit of her dearly departed son. So despite the prospect of being kicked out of Barton and forced to attend military school, with the prospect of war and death that comes with it, Angus can remain at Barton and find his way to the sunnier shores all but assured to bright young men in well-regarded centers of learning and the resources to propel them further.
So Mr. Hunham can become the unlikely surrogate father figure Angus is in desperate need of, and change his mind about the prospects of the next generation, at least for one young lad who makes him hopeful, whose success is worth martyring his comfort and security for. And he too can be lodged from his complacency, spurred to go visit the sites of the ancient world he’s studied but never seen, and write that monograph he’s been putting off.
When we’re introduced to the three of them, they are not just hunkering together in those almost unreal, interstitial days that envelop the end of the calendar. They are all in some in-between state, not quite where they started, but not quite able to move forward. When we leave them, Mary if able to make some semblance of peace with her tragedies and rekindle connections to her family; Angus knows someone has faith in him and has the surefootedness and, yes, character, to see his schooling through to the end; and Mr. Hunham, the stymied student-turned-teacher who’s been “held over” longer than anyone, finally finds a reason to break free.
[9.2/10] There are parts of Barbie that aren’t for me. I am a guy. A “Ken” to use the film’s own lingo. I don’t know what it’s like to be a woman. I don't know what it’s like to face those challenges myself. So much of the film is about that experience, both the idealized version that Barbieland represents, and the sometimes harsh reality of it our unwitting doll protagonist crashes into in the real world. I can appreciate some of those things secondhand, and even be compelled by them, but they’re not going to resonate with me the same way they will for someone who’s been through it.
There are parts of Barbie that are very much for me as a guy. As someone whose high school Xanga page used to autoplay “Push” by Matchbox 20, some of the comedic tweaks of masculinity hit a little too close to home. I’ve waxed rhapsodic about The Godfather ad nauseam. I’ve played music “at” girls I liked. And more seriously, in my wayward youth, I treated romantic partners like a solution to my problems rather than ends unto themselves. The film’s playful jabs, and its more serious critiques, are on point, and will resonate even if you’re the target of them.
There are parts of Barbie that are for me as someone who simply appreciates when a film has a distinctive look and feel all its own. Director/co-writer/three-for-three visionary Greta Gerwig and her collaborators construct an incredible world for their title character. Translating a doll’s playspace for the big screen could easily go terribly awry. But their realization of Barbieland is stunning in how vibrant and creative it feels. Everything from the layout of Barbie’s neighborhood, to the movements of the characters, to the texture of the ground give this unique realm a tremendous sense of place. The details big and small are a brilliant example of how to blend the realism of modern film with the bizarre but endearing unreality of such a specific setting.
There are parts of Barbie that are for me as a lover of out there, postmodern camp. WIth that locale comes the wild cosmology of the film: a neat mishmash of a land of imagination crashing into the problems of modern life, of spritely cartoon characters finding unexpected cracks in their paradise, of goofy figures playing their roles to the hilt without a hint of irony, and of a wide-ranging satire that spoofs the gendered elements of society and the peculiar quirks of a toy box world at the same time. Bright colors, wild schemes, beachside battles, song-and-dance numbers, wide-eyed characters, undeniable weirdos, all wrapped in a candy-coated shell. If Barbie hadn't already dominated the box office, it would be destined to be a cult classic.
And as that box office take suggests, here are parts of Barbie that are for anyone. I’d argue they’re the most important parts. I may not know what it’s like to be a woman. But I know what it’s like to grow up. Beyond the gender critiques that swirl around the film, this is, first and foremost, a story about steadily realizing that the world is bigger, more challenging, and more complicated than the ones we perceived and imagined as children.
Through a nigh-magical bond with the young woman who played with her, our protagonist, Stereotypical Barbie, starts to think about death. She starts to feel existential dread. She deals with stress and fear and unease and even (gasp) cellulite. The most piercing aspect of Gerwig’s third feature is how it uses the doll’s awakening conceit to analogize both the humbling, terrifying broadening of perspective we get as we grow up, and the generational motion sickness we get from looking back at what enchanted us, what inspired us, when we were younger.
In that, Barbie is insightful. It is hilarious. It is delightful. It is inventive as all hell. And it is deeply profound.
What’s doubly impressive about all this is that the call is coming from inside the house. If Gerwig, for example, made a thinly-veiled “Malibu Stacy” movie, we’d praise it as subversive. Somehow, though, this is an official branded release that deconstructs and reconstructs the gender politics that Barbie reinforced and then evolved with, that satirizes the Mattel Corporation itself (headed here by one of Will Ferrell’s trademark manchildren characters), takes square aim at the patriarchy, and uses the existence of genitalia to symbolize self-actualization. To convince the powers that be to cosign such a transgressive take on a beloved icon is an achievement beyond the art itself.
How could the suits say no to talent like that though. With her Oscar-nominated pedigree, Gerwig brings the same reimagining virtuosity and millennial vanguard she showed off in Little Women. Margot Robbie simply is Barbie, embodying the blithely joyous icon, and then nailing the subtle and shattering changes that came as she slowly feels the weight of the world beyond her shores. Ryan Gosling nearly steals the show with his committedly weird, blithely blinkered, and yet somehow pathos-ridden take on Ken. Comedy vets like Kate McKinnon and Michael Cera bring wry laughs in perfect casting as “Weird Barbie” and just plain “Alan” respectively. And the diversity of the denizens in Barbie’s world is plus that aids in the sense that damn near everyone here is perfectly cast, no matter how big or small the role.
Despite its incredible successes, the film is not perfect. In places, it feels unfocused. Barbie strives to cover a lot of thematic ground in less than two hours. As a result, even though it remains stellar on a scene-to-scene basis, sometimes it comes off disjointed as a whole. While many of its criticisms are right on target, some feel like the male equivalent of “bitches be shoppin’”-style observations. That sense of caricature in some sequences fits the heightened tone of the film, but can seem comparatively shallow to the movie’s more incisive critiques and observations. Late in the film, those critiques and observations start arriving in what amounts to a few blunt spoken essays, rather than arising organically from the situation.
And yet, this is a film of great nuance. Despite the sense of Ken as a blithe, patriarchy promoting dope, the script has genuine sympathy for him, and even uses him to explore gendered marginalization in the context of Barbieland. It plays in the space of motherhood, examining the challenges and expectations that can drive parents and children apart but also the beauty and understanding that brings them back together. It manages to encompass nearly every part of the conversation around Barbie, while also internalizing them to one person’s journey of self-discovering in a way that feels surprisingly natural.
That comes from the sheer boldness and ambition of the story. A doll “malfunctioning” from her owner’s existential quandaries, barging into the real world and coming back shaken by it, with layers of meta commentary and Charlie Kaufman-esque recursive self-reflection, is a hell of a thing to try, let alone pull off with flying (mostly pink) colors the way Gerwig does.
What holds it all together is the way this story comes down to Barbie herself as a protagonist. After psychological tugs and troubles that are a metaphor for the growing, scary understanding we all develop over time, Barbie breaks down. She’s ready to give up in the face of it. She’s lifted up by someone who gives voice to the challenges and contradictions, but in the end, after this enlightenment, isn’t sure what she wants.
The conceit of making her creator a godlike figure, there to bless her and open doors for her, is one of the film’s canniest choices. In Rhea Perlman’s pitch perfect rendition of Barbie inventor Ruth Handler, Barbie has a mother, one who symbolizes the goal not just of feminism, but for all parents -- to try to make the lives of their children a little safer, a little kinder, a little better than theirs were.
So Ruth gives her child the gift of vision, a chance to see and feel the breadth of experiences that await her if she leaves the safety of Barbieland and a safe childhood view of the world, and trades it for the world of adulthood, with all of its terrors and pitfalls, but also a waterfall of joys, fellowship, and wonders. That closing sequence, set to Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For?”, is the bravura crescendo of the film that surprised and moved me.
It is a cinematic showpiece to capture, well, life, and beyond that, the sublime, terrifying choice to embrace that complex array of experiences, good and bad, that await you. To accept that, to countenance the overwhelming scope of existence, knowing that it will overtake you and that it will end, is an act of profound courage, and a gobsmacking thing to successfully convey on the silver screen.
No matter who you are, you feel that plight. You feel that awe. You feel the spiritual catharsis of a doll who knowingly becomes a person, and scarier yet, a grown-up, with all that comes with both. You feel the hardship and hope of choosing to live in a messy and imperfect world and to be messy and imperfect. And that part of Barbie is for everyone.
May the force be with you.
So many commenters threatened by one kiss. We spend seasons watching hetero's going at it, and one brief gay kiss makes them so uncomfortable.:rolling_eyes:
There's no book club?
Worth the price of admission right there. Such a great line! :D
How dare they make us care for Nate and how dare they be so good at it?
"I hate to break it to you Rebecca, but those children are dead"
oh just fuck off now, this was a show about football, why am i almost in tears about a fake player making his England debut wearing the number 24! truly an incredible episode, the last 3 episodes have all been out of the park brilliant and this show coming to an end in 2 episodes time is an absolute travesty
A near-perfect season of television, and dare I say one that sets a new standard, not just for video game adaptations, but for adaptations in general.
The Last of Us is a breath of fresh air in this oversaturated genre. While many may take issue with the fact that the infected in this show are relegated to the back seats, I think it's a brilliant and welcome change. The Last of Us is not a 'zombie show', it's a show about love and loss; a show that aims to display a brutal, bleak, and heartbreaking world where these characters are forced to cling onto whatever they can get hold of to justify their continued fight to survive. The relationship between Joel and Ellie is brilliant, and their chemistry as a father/daughter type duo is second-to-none.
I've seen a lot of fans of the game complain that there's not enough action, and while it's certainly true that there's very little action in comparison to the game, I don't think that's a bad thing. This is not an action show, and video game fights do not translate well on screen. The game version of The Last of Us often sees the player (controlling Joel) mow down dozens of enemies at a time, and as a game, that works. It's necessary to have all those enemies, as action is a big part of the experience when playing a video game. But for a show, fewer action sequences make much more sense. The show feels much more grounded and realistic than the game ever did, and that's in part due to the action sequences being both far fewer, and also much more of a struggle for the characters involved. In this show, Joel is not a superhero, not like he is in the game. He can't take three gunshots and still take down five armed men, three runners, and a clicker. No, in this show, Joel is very much human; when he gets in a tussle with even one opponent, he struggles; and when he gets stabbed, he goes down and spends a long time recovering back to full health.
As far as the plot goes, the show hits every major beat that the video game did, and almost all of the major scenes are word-for-word identical to the video game counterpart. This was fantastic to see, as the game had already done a perfect job of hitting certain emotional scenes out of the park, and the show is no different. However, there are a bunch of times when the show does make some plot changes. One of the main changes is the entirety of episode three, 'Long, Long Time', which details the story of Bill and Frank's relationship. While this episode might be one of the most beautiful love stories ever told on television and was an easy 10/10 for me, it was also a huge departure from the game's plot. In the game, we never get to meet Frank; we only meet Bill. We meet Bill while playing as Joel, accompanied by Ellie. Bill is a bitter man who hates pretty much everything in the world, and his 'partner', Frank, is already gone. The show making the decision to never have Bill meet Joel and Ellie in the present timeline was a huge change, and while I was disappointed that we never got to hear the banter between Bill and Ellie in live-action, I actually think it was a very smart, and well-executed change; and one that gave us what will likely be considered by many to be the best episode of television this year.
There were other, much smaller changes throughout the show too. One example is that in the game, we never went to Jackson to find Tommy, in fact, we never get to see inside Jackson until the second game. Instead, Joel and Ellie meet up with Tommy and Maria at the hydroelectric dam. Another, even smaller change, would be how in episode eight when Ellie is hacking David to pieces with that knife, the game's equivalent scene actually has Joel find her during that, and he physically pulls her off of David to comfort her. Whether or not you like these changes is obviously going to be entirely subjective, but I will say that I found almost all of the changes to work well and make a lot of sense considering the change in medium.
Nothing will ever be an exact 1:1 adaptation of source material, that's just how things are. It doesn't matter if it's a book, a video game, or a comic book - there have to be some changes to make it work better for television. I don't agree with people who want as many changes as possible and who think that a 1:1 adaptation would be boring - I think that's silly. But I also don't agree with people who complain about every time there's a slight change to something and who then go on and complain about the show not being true to the source. This show is objectively one of the greatest adaptations ever put to screen, and I think we have the involvement of the game's original writer, Neil Druckman, to thank for that. The show hits all of the major story beats and character moments that the game does, while also expanding on various points in order to flesh things out a little more than they did in the game. If you genuinely think that this is a bad adaptation, then you must never have seen any other adaptations of other materials. You must never have read a book that was made into a movie, or any other game that was made into a show. Take 'The Witcher', for example, a show that received a lot of praise, especially for its first season. That show is literally one of the worst adaptations of source material that has ever been put to screen. The main plots literally changed and were abandoned in favour of the showrunner's own original content. Characters literally behave in ways that they never would in books or games. How about the recent Halo show? That was a bad adaptation. The Uncharted movie? Awful adaptation. But The Last of Us... this show is the furthest thing from being a 'bad' adaptation. The characters are true to themselves, the tone is a match, the plot is a match, the emotional impact is very, very close too.
I think the only thing that comes to mind when I think of things I didn't like about this season, was probably the stuff with Melanie Lynskey's character of Kathleen in episodes four and five. It wasn't that she was poor in the role or anything, but her entire character just felt entirely unnecessary, and it felt as though we spent too much time with her when we could have been spending it with Sam and Henry.
For me, the weakest episode of the season was probably episode seven, 'Left Behind'. It was still a good episode, and Bella Ramsay was great in it, but I felt as though the time spent in that episode would have been better suited elsewhere, maybe giving us more time with David's group to help flesh that plot out a little more.
Overall, this was a damn near-perfect season of television. The pacing is fantastic, the characters are compelling, the tension is fantastic, and the emotional payoff is brutal. Season two will no doubt be controversial, just as the second game was. Though, from what I read, it seems that they're planning on splitting the second game across two seasons rather than just one, so that will be interesting to see.
Overall: 9.4/10
"I do worry sometimes I might just be entertaining myself while staving off the inevitable."
The Banshees of Inisherin is one of the saddest breakup movies since Marriage Story. Well...in the film, they are not a romantic couple, but Padraic (Colin Farrell) and Colm (Brendan Gleeson) were good friends, until one day their friendship ends abruptly, just because Colm decides that despite there being no bad blood between them, he does not like him anymore. The reason is: you are dull. In some ways, friendships are like relationships; it starts with the strong bonds you form with each other until that feeling towards them is not the same, and you no longer like/love them anymore.
I mean, everything was fine yesterday.
A strange occurrence that is not explainable but does happen. I believe it starts when one person changes while the other doesn’t. In the movie, Colm is a wise and articulated older man with an artistic ambition that he never acted on and never stopped to think about getting older. Living on a small remote island off the west coast of Ireland, where everybody is freaking boring and gossiping little bitches who love to stick their noses in other people's business and drama, because there is nothing else to do on the island. The movie does a fantastic job of giving you the impression that living on this rock slowly kills you on the inside. While being a supporting character, this is the dilemma with Colm. He does the same thing every day with his ex-friend, going to the pub at two pm and talking endlessly about meaningless crap and nonsense, and who knows what else happens the rest of the day, which is not that interesting, I assume.
The end of their friendship is hard to watch because it leaves the audience with everlasting pain. Brendan Gleeson is remarkable as the desperate and often cold Colm.
Despite what film Twitter tries to tell you, Martin McDonagh has yet to make a bad movie. In the same vein as Martin Scorsese and Quentin Tarantino, whenever McDonagh makes a new movie, I am 100% there. Every movie this guy has made has been brilliant, and Banshees is no different. A dark comedy at its finest cause you know when things go so wrong to the point it gets funny. Well, Martin McDonagh's movies are like that.
The writing is superb and has plenty of dry humour. The film-making is not anything grand or flashy; some comment on how stagy it is, but I do not feel it needs to be a technical marvel. With that said, there are some beautiful shots of the landscape of Ireland.
Comparing his work in The Batman early this year and this movie proves that Colin Farrell is one of the finest working actors. His character Pádraic Súilleabháin is a dim-minded, polite man who, unlike Colm, has found peace and happiness in his daily life. Farrell brings a child-like vulnerability to the character, where everything he does or says can be funny and depressing. His character arc is incredibly heart-rending.
Pádraic sister, played by Kerry Cordon, another standout performance, and some of her line delivery has implanted itself in my head. Her character Siobhan is trying to find the ultimate purpose in her life, echoing the problems that Colm is facing, which the two get along like a house on fire.
Barry Keoghan plays Dominic, and out of all the characters in the story, he lives the worst life under his abusive father. Keoghan continues to be an excellent actor who is on a winning streak. The character of Dominic is a playful and childish man, but the tragedy of the character is that he is lost in this life and has nowhere to call home, often appearing at the most random of places during odd times.
The score from Carter Burwell immerses you in this story and contributes to the stunning visuals.
Overall rating: On paper, a simple concept of a friendship breaking up, but its approach to mental illness, kindness, art, masculinity, and our inevitable death was strikingly profound. At times, it felt like Shakespeare mixed with the Brothers Grim tale.
It is one of the best movies of 2022.
Seeing a film that's won the Palme d'or at Cannes or Best Picture Oscar is like drinking a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine: with every sip you ask yourself over and over again if it deserves the price. Fortunately, Parasite is so good you won't be drinking very long because you'll be drunk on its power soon enough.
A film that crosses genres so many times it leaves a permanent mark, Parasite is a clever story performed wonderfully and directed to perfection.
One of the best anti-war movies of all time. I was shaking and had heart racing the whole run-time.
One of the most memorable cinema-experiences I ever had. After the credits rolled, no one made a move for two minutes. Everyone sat quietly and thought about what they had seen. At one point early in the movie almost everyone had also stopped eating their popcorn.
Watch it in Cinema if you can. Watch it in german if you can. Watch it in german with subtitles if you must. Or wait for it's Netflix-Release. But watch "All Quiet on the Western Front" no matter what. And learn from it.
One of the most intense movies you'll ever see.
Holy fuck. I have goosebumps. Might be the best episode of TV this year. Fucking amazing. Honestly, I can't blame Tom for what he did, he's taken so much shit from everyone, including his own wife.
I'm happy for them that the managed to sell that thing but honestly I think it was ugly as fuck.
Like gravedigging, you have to dig deep if you want to get the payoff.
Alex Garland's film about the abuse of women succeeds thanks to its rich tapestry of jarring images. While fans of traditional horror may feel disappointed by its lack of jump scares, those who appreciate the more cerebral psychology of neo-horror (à la Hereditary) will find what they are looking for here.
The film is largely a success thanks to its strong cast and rampant symbolism, though Garland's choice to focus more on the women as victims rather than the titular men as aggressors means the movie misses its mark when it comes to demanding receipts.
My interpretation of the symbolism:
:rotating_light::construction::octagonal_sign::warning:MAJOR SPOILERS FROM HERE ON OUT:warning::octagonal_sign::construction::rotating_light:
The film, obviously, is on a mission to portray women (or at least one woman) as a victim to the male gender. That the director wants to paint all men with this broad stroke is evident in the choice to have the same actor (Rory Kinnear) play all of the aggressors, saying, in essence, that deep down all men are the same man: a being that's driven to hurt women.
Of course, her abusive husband, James, isn’t played by Rory Kinnear. Does this mean he’s somehow different than the other men who appear later in the film? Absolutely not, and proof of that is Jame’s injuries. After he falls / jumps from the building, we see that a gate post splits his right arm from his elbow to his hand, and that his left ankle is broken. Later on in the film, all of the men in the town who besiege Harper are shown to share these exact same injuries, illustrating that they are the same man as the abusive estranged husband.
This point is also reinforced by the presence of 'the naked man'. 'The naked man' is the personification of "The Green Man" (who is also symbolized in the stone carving on the church altar). According to Wikipedia, “The Green Man is a legendary being primarily interpreted as a symbol of rebirth, representing the cycle of new growth that occurs every spring,” which indicates that, as violence breeds violence, the cycle of violent men will continue with no end in sight. This is also what’s meant by the endless cycle of men birthing men that we witness in the film’s climax.
A quick glance at the film’s characters shows us several types of abusers that exist in society.
First, her husband, who starts off emotionally abusing his wife -- “If you leave me, I’ll kill myself” -- before graduating to physical abuse.
Then there’s Geoffrey, the man who rents her the mansion. He represents the “nice guy” who imposes his generosity on women and, when he’s later rebuffed, hurls insults at the women who aren’t interested in him.
The priest represents the patriarchy of religion and the structure put in place to perpetuate male domination and abuse.
Samuel is the young man 'frat bro' who feels he’s entitled to his ‘bit of fun’ and rebukes women who dare refuse him what he considers to be his due.
The police officer represents authority because, when he arrives at Harper’s rental property the night of the home invasion, he stands in her front yard yet neither says nor does anything. He’s as useless and impotent as the police and other authorities women might turn to when they seek assistance.
All of this is not to say that Jessie doesn’t have her allies. There is her best friend Riley (Gayle Rankin) who provides moral support throughout the film, and the kind policewoman who speaks with Harper when the police initially arrest the naked man. Garland’s point here is that the best place for a woman to get the support and assistance she needs is with other women.
This concept is driven home by the second figure etched into the altar (on the opposite face of The Green Man), that of the sheela na gig. The sheela na gig is a carving of a woman with an exaggerated vulva and is used to symbolize fertility and protection against evil.
That’s a brief rundown of the symbolism in Men, and also serves to illustrate what I appreciate about the film: it’s not because it’s horror that I have to turn off my brain. [/spoiler]
That's right. We don't submit to terror. WE MAKE THE TERROR!
Lol that fight scene was legendary. Go Marty!
take a shot every time they talk about manifesting
Everything I wanted it to be and more. Perfectly cast and excellent soundtrack by Hans Zimmer. Epic Sci-Fi at its best.
When you watch a movie and wish that it went for another 2 hours - fantastic.
Denis Villeneuve is the man!
There’s only one word that came into my mind after watching it: finally.
Finally, a blockbuster that isn’t afraid to be primarily driven by drama and tension, and doesn’t undercut its own tone by throwing in a joke every 30 seconds.
Finally, a blockbuster that puts actual effort in its cinematography, and doesn’t have a bland or calculated colour palette.
Finally, a blockbuster with a story that has actual substance and themes, and doesn’t rely on intertextual references or nostalgia to create a fake sheen of depth.
Finally, a blockbuster that doesn’t pander to China by having big, loud and overblown action sequences, but relies on practical and grounded spectacle instead (it has big sand worms, you really don’t need to throw anything at the screen besides that).
Finally, a blockbuster that actually feels big, because it isn’t primarily shot in close ups, or on a sound stage.
And of course: finally, a blockbuster that isn’t a fucking prequel, sequel, or connected to an already established IP somehow.
(Yeah, I know Tenet did those things as well, but I couldn’t get into that because the characters were so flat and uninteresting).
This just checks all the boxes. An engaging story with subtext, very well set up characters, great acting (like James Gunn, Villeneuve's great at accentuating the strengths of limited actors like Dave Bautista and Jason Momoa), spectecular visuals and art design (desaturated but not in an ugly washed out way), pacing (slow but it never drags), directing, one of Hans Zimmer’s best scores: it’s all here.
I only have one real criticism: there’s too much exposition, especially in the first half.
It can occasionally hold your hand by referencing things that have already been established previously, and some scenes of characters explaining stuff to each other could’ve been conveyed more visually.
Other than that, it’s easily one of the best films of the year.
I’ve seen some people critiquing it for being incomplete, which is true, but this isn’t just a set up for a future film.
It feels like a whole meal, there are pay offs in this, and the characters progress (even if, yes, their arcs are still incomplete).
8.5/10
On the surface this film is about a group of people who have been labelled “villains”, working together to save the world. But really, this film is about one man and one man alone, he isn’t strong, but yet he defies all odds and sacrifices his life to save his friends. His only power is his bravery, he is the driver of the van and the main character of this film, Milton.
A++++ acting from Julia Garner
One one of the best performances on one of the best episodes of one of the best shows to ever exist
