Reviews

Living is simply beautiful. It has a sort of restrained precision throughout that hints to true attention to detail, and though its narrative style may be rather slow for some, I found it to only serve to focus the viewer on the details of what happened before them, and allow them to soak it all up in bit by bit. It manages to be deeply touching and heartwarming while moving at its own pace. No surprise then perhaps that it's script was written by Nobel prize winning author Kazuo Ishiguro. It certainly helps its case as well that it's an absolute visual treat. It seems to perfectly capture a sense of 1950s Britain, and its lighting and color grading are wonderful, not to mention that its shot composition is stunning, each scene is like a well composed photograph, without taking too much attention to itself. None of this would reach its fullest potential without its wonderful cast however, with an absolute masterclass performance from Bill Nighy. If one is a fan of Tolstoy however it might be best to know that the influence of The Death of Ivan Ilyich on it is *very* slight, though it may just be the better for it. And though I can't speak to it for myself, from what I've heard it's quite loyal to its Japanese original (Ikiru) and I haven't seen anything to indicate otherwise.

Racer and the Jailbird is an absolutely infuriating film. It started off quite well, it's nicely shot and looks good, has good sound design, and the beginnings of a quite compelling plot. What's more the leads are brilliant, Adèle Exarchopoulos especially so (even when her character's arc begins to devolve). But of course, it doesn't last. Towards the end of the first chapter what had the potential to be quite an interesting plot point about Gigi's relationship with Bibi and robbery (maybe the cartoonish names should have been a warning) turns into just another "one last job"and things start steadily deteriorating. But the film still holds the potential to just be a simple fun melodrama, or maybe even to subvert cliche. But no, in what must have been a misguided attempt to do the latter, the film devolves into a gritty overwrought mess. It really is quite terrible.

Aftersun is wonderful in its own way. Its simplicity is a key factor in this, allowing it to be laser focused in on its primary tale and characters, not getting mired in overcomplication and side plots. The way it slowly develops that plot is also fascinating, using small things like the gradually increasing visibility of Calum's drinking and the appearance and increasing frequency of the flashing scenes to slowly accelerate the films tension is superb, transforming it from a lush joy of the early scenes to a deep sense of loss at the end. The way camcorder footage and that one Polaroid are used to convey the films message is stunning, and the way the light grain and the rather retro - but admittedly still beautiful - color grading on the "contemporary" footage tied them together is great. Not to mention a luminous debut by Frankie Corio as Sophie, and the sheer raw emotion of it all.

I've just finished episode 5: To start, Irma Vep is amazing. The loose and relaxed filming style is analogous to the whole of the series, it progresses at the pace of life letting the plot go where it will and for the most part avoiding a traditional plot structure in a manner reminiscent of - and I know this is a lofty comparison - the Chekhovian style, but I do understand that it is not necessarily for everyone. The series does skewer the film industry to an extent but I don't think that's the point. It's good cinema first, and commentary second.

Irma Vep's real highlight though might just be the acting, when I say it's good, I mean it's really good. The entire cast is clearly having an absolute ball with this, especially Alicia Vikander (Mira Harberg/Irma Vep) and Lars Eidinger (Gottfried), and it shows. At times you want to just sit back and watch them act, or laugh from the sheer joy of it.

Back to the aforementioned relaxed style though. Its presence in Irma Vep is an excellent example of the value of the mini-series, or serial as René would have us call it (to note, this is not Oliver Assayas' first foray into it - see Carlos). The form allows the series to find the confidence to progress in that relaxed speed of life manner, without feeling constrained or like it's missing something (to be clear, this in no way means that it moves detrimentally. Slow either).

And finally, have we mentioned how hilariously meta this whole thing is? It's a series about a director remaking as a mini-series/serial a film he directed in which he met his ex wife, which was the remake of another film - which is actually the remake as a mini-series of a film in which the director met his ex wife which was *about* the remake of another film (did you follow that?).

Gagarine is beautiful, and one of the most underrated films I've seen in a long time (I mean why is no one talking about this). Not to mention the hassle it was to get my hands on it (I'll save you the story). But anyways, beautiful. The cinematography was absolutely superb, though in a way it stylistically reminded me more of still photography, but a good way. The color grading was also amazing, making even the rundown apartments of Gagarine look rich and vibrant, this in tandem with its rather long and narrow aspect ratio leads to a unique visual style. Gagarine's storytelling prowess is also not to be underestimated, its tale of a young man fighting a desperate battle to save everything he loves is moving. The way it leaves off often overused themes of doom and gloom when it comes to poverty, for the oft overlooked ones of resilience and community is refreshing. And the acting and relational chemistry between the two leads is great as well.

The Quiet Girl (An Cailín Ciúin) is a truly interesting piece of film. Its squared aspect ratio (13:7) and often rather shallow depth of field contribute to a sense of deep focus on the subject at hand and an often child like point of view. The film is also highly detail oriented , there's not much big or dramatic that happens, but small hints of something here or there, a hint of a smile, a cookie left on a table, convey most of the film's action. And as any film so reliant on subtle detail must be, the acting is superb. Catherine Clinch (Cáit) who won the IFTA award for Best Actress for her role in The Quiet Girl was particularly good. Cáit's relationship with Seán (Andrew Bennett) and their mutual quietness was probably the film's highlight for me. It was also really cool to see a film almost exclusively in the Irish language. The Quiet Girl is ultimately a heartwarming and breaking meditation on love and grief, and a slow film that lives up to its name, look away and you may miss a key subtlety, but its all the better for it.

I have mixed feelings about Le Petit Soldat, it can be brilliant at times but at times also rather dull. In it we see hints of Godard's stylistic experimentation and artistic development, there is lots of excellent handheld work and the action is never held up by the pace of the camera. At the same time though the audio design is horrible, though in all fairness we are talking about the early 60s here. The deep cynicism of the story and the rather uncaring and disconnected attitudes of the characters can be grating a bit. The problem is, none of the characters seem to have real conviction, and neither does the director. Moreover, the voiceover can get a little overused, annoying, and almost self interested. Admittedly there are deeply interesting philosophical insights, but then there's also a lot of self satisfied drivel. But then there are moments of sheer brilliance, mostly in scenes of dialogue between Veronica (Anna Karina) and Bruno (Michel Subor), and most pronouncedly Bruno's extended monologue towards the end which simply blew me away, which all comes together to make this a very hard movie to judge.

Just a quick disclaimer to begin with, I am a big fan of Dark (and Bo Odar), though I will try to make this review as impartial as possible. To start with, the cinematography was excellent, and Odar's unique style will be familiar to anyone who has watched the Netflix series Dark. Sound was also used in a superb way to create tension and enhance the overall atmosphere. The actors were all excellent, conveying as much meaning with their faces as with their words. As for the plot it was a bit of a mixed bag, the plot was certainly built upon an interesting premise, and by no means bad, but it felt like it was secondary in focus to the look and feel of the movie causing it to fall into the cliche at times and at the very end it seemed to fall off a little.

A quick explanation, I'm a bit of a fan of the original, maybe if I wasn't I would like it more... The problem is I feel like the movie just messed up so much of Alan Moore's work. Important scenes were removed or simply mashed together. The character's and their relationships to each other were entirely changed. And the ending felt like it took the grandeur of the original and made a bit of a farce of it. But maybe I'm being a little too harsh, it wasn't exactly terrible, taken independently it's actually probably pretty good, from the acting to the costume and special effects, just try to make sure you read the graphic novel first.

The Baader Mienhof Complex was certainly a compelling movie. The directorship was great, creating a richly detailed work with excellent atmosphere. The characters were superbly built up and human, portrayed in a grand manner by an outstanding cast. The action sequences, though not the focus of the movie, were great, quick, sweet, and a little bloody. My one critique might be that (especially at the beginning) the pacing went a bit too fast, the plot accelerating from 0-60 in no time at all, though this was mostly rectified by the end. An interesting and brilliantly authentic work, however inevitably rather one sided.

Dune was simply brilliant. The cinematography was amazing, grand and magnificent (something that must be seen in theater). This atmosphere was brought to a zenith by a brilliant score by Hans Zimmer, and great sound design. All of this was beautifully melded together by the great directing of Denis Villeneuve , and superb acting from the entire cast. I was also especially happy to find that the movie stayed deeply loyal to Frank Herbert's original. This does lead to one of the few major problems with the movie, the fact that the 1965 original was deeply rooted in orientalist fantasies of Islam, the Arab world, and white savior narratives, and this made its way into the movie as well.

Parasite was a wonder to behold. The movie contained wonderful cinematography throughout, from glorious, smooth, long shots, to excellent handheld work. The film's superb visual architecture and design conveyed layers of meaning, accentuated by an incredible cast. And ultimately, though what Parasite has to say might not be anything new (class divide and difference isn't exactly a fresh topic), the way through which it conveys that story is absolutely superb. It's not reinventing the wheel, it's just making a really, really, good wheel. And in the end though, what stood out above all, was the sheer attention to detail.

Ex Machina is an excellent and thoughtful work. To start, though the film only really contains a small handful of actors, the work they do is truely superb. The VFX is also excellent. The plot of the film is well crafted and really challenges the viewer intellectually, it is also accentuated by a great score. Most interesting though is that the film is not only about a Turing test, it is one in a way. The one weak point in my opinion is the ending, it just seems to be lacking a little of the polish apparent everywhere else in the film. Altogether it's an impressive example of what you can put together with a relatively small budget.

The Batman was a pretty good movie, though it certainly has some problems, let's start with the good though. The movie has a beautifully bleak and gritty noir-esque atmosphere, heightened by a great soundtrack. The movie also deserves props for turning The Riddler from one of the most goofball Batman villains into a truly disturbing psychopath, Paul Dano does an amazing job. And finally, though I had some serious doubts beforehand, Robert Pattinson makes an absolutely superb Batman. Now for the not so great. Pacing, pacing, pacing! Something this movie lacks. The nearly three hour runtime overstays its welcome, this is no Godfather, and it shows. The plot needed some serious tightening, at times it felt a little all over the place and without purpose. And some moments felt either a little forced or a little cliché, chief among them the "privileged white men" quote. And lastly, the relationship between the Batman and Seline seemed to be a little underdeveloped for how often it cropped up in key moments.

Riff-Raff is a film that didn't particularly knock my socks off in any technical way, but still somehow achieved its own sort of excellence. It doesn't seem like your conventional movie, but rather, like a vignette of the life of its main characters. It feels more real than almost any other film I've seen, possibly a byproduct of its screenwriter being an actual construction worker. The film it pulls you in and makes the characters feel like old friends, without a particularly exciting or thrilling plot, in a way it's reminiscent of Chekhov. And though the characters have their ups and downs, the movie presents quite a few chuckles. A thoroughly intelligent and genuine film, brimming with social commentary without bashing you over the head with it.

The Prestige is an excellent movie no doubt about it. The production design - the sets, the costumes, the magic, especially the magic - was superb, and the cast did their jobs masterfully. But what really matters in this movie (and I guess it *is* tied in to the acting) is the characters and plot. I became deeply invested in each of the characters, and as for the main duo in specific, I couldn't decide whether to love or hate them, but that I felt the need to do so speaks volumes in of itself. The plot was also excellent, twisting and turning and flowing - until the very end, to explain I'll use an analogy from the movie: the big reveal at the end was like a magic trick the trick of which has been revealed, it loses its appeal, but the problem is that a movie isn't a magic trick, a movie must be able to reveal its secrets, and be all the better for it, and to a certain level, I think that's where The Prestige fails a little.

Metropolitan is a superb work, though in many ways more literary than film. It isn't particularly outstanding in any of the ways that one would traditionally expect a film to be, but rather stands out with an amazingly crafted and witty script, which the gentle humor of, though teasing the "urban haute bourgeoisie" as the characters call it, and though sublime, is in many ways it is itself a product of that very same "UHB" environment. The acting is very much centered on that script and delivering it, with everything else taking somewhat of a backseat. In many ways Metropolitan seems like a modern Jane Austen novel brought to life, I wonder what it would have been like as a book. If you know what you're getting into, it makes for an excellent viewing.

Petite Maman is a subtly understated masterpiece. It tells a magical and endearing tale of friendship tinged with grief, while also touching on themes of childhood, motherhood, and loss. It's a short film, but never feels the least rushed, meaning that every moment feels well spent. The Sanz twins form a brilliant pair, with organic chemistry and the same sleepy waddle and charming grin, coupled with remarkably mature acting skill. Though the plot may seem like something out of a sci-fi film, in practice it is nothing like that. Every scene is clearly well directed and set up, and the editing is especially good.

Phantom Thread is a beautiful film masking a tastefully disturbing story. From the very beginning the cinematography and overall directorship demonstrate a flair bordering on the hyper detailed and compartmentalized neurosis of the central Mr. Woodcock. No detail is overlooked. And though the film is visually excellent, its best aspect may be it's central tale of a deeply masochistic relationship that is unfolded with the utmost care and restraint. It helps that the leads, Daniel Day-Lewis and Vicky Krieps, play their roles marvelously. As one would expect from a film in which clothing plays such an important role, the costumes are marvelous. And it's all helped along by an wonderfully everpresent classical score.