Reviews

Going into this finale, Pete Nowalk had his work cut out for him. There were many a loose end that needed to be tied, Annalise's court case needed to be decided, and the flash forward to her death needed to be resolved. But none of that mattered, except the one burning question that we've been asking since the very first episode: how do you get away with murder?

Suffice to say, Nowalk answers that question fittingly and then some. The episode comes completely full circle, leaving you deeply satisfied, even though loose ends still remain, and many things are left unresolved. The point is she got away with murder, and somehow that is everything!

Amidst all the controversy and thoughtless comments from its director that threaten to overshadow the film itself, Joker is a brutally pointed and thrilling film that seeks to deviate from the comic book mold, all the while staying religiously true to its trademark qualities.

though it is, in parts, ladened with the overbearing need to fulfill the requirements for an inevitable franchise (see: some of the thomas wayne arc), Joker is an intriguing character study that actually scratches the thematic surface so-to-speak, glossing its plot over with a depth that many comic book films struggle for.

and at its core is the clown himself! if Heath Ledger's Joker was a portrait of a psychopath standing out in a society that was conceptually good, then Joaquin Phoenix's take on the role is a victim borne of the very perversion that he seeks to revenge. Phoenix is chilling and nuanced, capping his performance off with an odd innocence that is terrifyingly memorable.

much of the criticism garnered by the film is well-deserved, as its thought-provoking message begins to get lost in the violence in the third act. it is, after all, a super hero flick. but the quick need to dismiss the film is wholly unwarranted. Arthur Fleck doesn't even become Joker until the final half-hour of the film - for the majority of its runtime, he is a broken man living in a society that's failed him.

its overall commentary is poignant and rich, maybe even a little too on the nose, and it begins to get needlessly gruesome as Todd Phillips (his direction being the weakest aspect of the film by the way) strives to drive home his point. whether it serves as a source of empathy for mass murderers or not is a matter of subjectivity, though i agree that the violent end-all approach it takes cripples its overall effect. nevertheless, Joker is a solid film that shows that comic book films can have meaning.

Noah Baumbach has always had a knack for portraying the mundanity of life with such great detail and grace, and Marriage Story is yet another melodrama that shows how skillful he is.

Marriage Story is a delicate dance of paradoxical emotions, weaving together themes of love, loneliness, heartbreak, and regret in such a manner that perfectly reflects the imperfect nature of human relationships.

Adam Driver kills as Charlie, but Scarlett Johansson destroys as Nicole. Their performances are as intertwined as they are fragmented, and they bounce off each other with effortless chemistry.

Marriage Story is a powerhouse of craft on all fronts. It is completely arresting and intimate. Baumbach reminds us how delicate love is, and that - amidst all the chaos that comes with it - there can always be beauty even in despondency and heartbreak.

What a poetic, slow burn love story of a man and his home, and the lengths he'll go to hold on to an image of a city he once knew, but is no longer the same.

the film is technically stunning. the cinematography is something special. in a world filled with imbalances, cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra manages to create symmetry, constantly placing the characters in the centre of the shots, forcing you to focus on their quick flashes of emotions, expressed in both words and countenance. that quality is further enhanced by the gorgeous score; an ethereal burst of woodwinds that feels transcendent of the time it represents.

as Jimmie and Montgomery skate through their city from their predominantly black neighborhood to the whiter end, they stand out as misfits. clearly, Jimmie and Mont are too black to fit in with the white folks, yet too white to fit in with the blacks. Jimmie and Mont do not know who or what they are, and their desire for self-exploration is quietly but sharply derailed by the gentrifiers who are limiting their expression.

the film highlights the emotional bond formed between a person and a place, and it proficiently captures the emotional process of slowly coming to the realization that we do not really own the places within which we form deep, meaningful memories and experiences. In his fight to keep this house, Jimmie is fighting to retain his self-identity, or whatever is left of it. when critically considered, the house is nothing but a metaphor for Jimmie's identity, which the new invaders are slowly wringing out of him.

The Last Black Man in San Francisco is filled with emotion and personality. it's real and relatable. and in a year that's been filled so far with blockbuster superhero showdowns and remakes, this feels like a very much needed, and refreshing breath of fresh air.

Stranger Things has many strengths, but one of its greatest is its ability to take all its plot points and themes from the entire season - and, as you know, there are usually many - and then bring them together in the most satisfying manner, like pieces of a puzzle fitting as one.

There's no greater proof of that fact than this episode. The Battle of Starcourt is a culmination of all of the nerve racking, heart pumping, edge-of-the-seat storylines developed over the seven episodes before it. And, in what is probably the most emotional episode of the entire show, there is a great deal of catharsis enjoyed by every single character - not one single person is left wanting; and that translates to the audience feeling satisfied and content.

Nevertheless, that satisfaction doesn't last long, as a post-credits scene set us up for more gut wrenching, heart racing, edge-of-the-seat content that we can only hope comes as soon as possible.

Sometimes, I take time to ponder upon how - time and again - the Toy Story movies have managed to maintain their level of wonderment. the concept of lost toys trying to find their owner couldn't be any simpler, but what Pixar has done with these movies is worthy of adoration.

these films, especially this third one, strikes a chord with everyone, whether young or old. more than any thing, it struck a chord in me. Toy Story 3, and the two before it, challenge a universally innate desire that we all have, irrespective of age: our fear of being alone.

as a 20 year old college student living by himself, far away from home, this movie is very close to heart, and I'm not even about to delve into how much it means to me. needless to say, Toy Story 3 is a great lesson for kids to cherish what they have, and an even greater reminder for adults, of the good old days of our youth.

don't let the darker tone of this movie fool you - its a family film through-and-through. it's a strikingly beautiful, reflective, and adventurous tale of love, loss, and friendship. this is Pixar's best, in my opinion, and it is - dare I say - perfect! I will cherish this movie, today, tomorrow, and for infinity and beyond!

When the trailer for this movie came out, my excitement could not be contained. I forced everyone I know to watch it. I memorized the entire thing by heart. I've read rave reviews (as well as the not-so warm reviews), and I was ready to see this masterpiece.

it's been two hours since it ended, and nothing could've prepared me for the psychotic mess this movie is. I've been unable to keep my mouth closed, and my hands are literally shaking. am I being too dramatic?

no, because Jordan Peele has made a masterpiece that has transcended the limits of what horror is, and what it should be. it's pointless comparing this film to Get Out, because they're literally on two ends of the genre spectrum. Us may feature black leads, but it's no commentary on racism, nor is it a satire of society. this is a pure, unequivocal, spine-chilling horror film. it is filled with jump scares, unrealistic coincidences, and cheesy what's-behind-the-door sequences. but Peele is masterful in the way he uses these tropes, presenting them in a fresh way that I've just never seen before.

at first, the film feels very slow. it feels like nothing is going to happen. it's funny - maybe too funny. but when it picks up, it goes all the way there, until the very last scene, leaving you no room to breathe, nowhere to turn, nowhere to look. the score is breathtaking. it has this chocking effect that is hard to describe. Michael Abels' work here is even more eerie than his score for Get Out.

and don't get me started on Lupita. you can play Toni Collette's Hereditary dinner table scene on loop forever and cry over her snub, but Lupita is on another level in this, especially when playing the doppelgänger. Evan Alex is also surprisingly good, and Shahadi Wright Joseph takes it even further. oh, and Elisabeth Moss? yes.

see, your regular horror film is filled with demons, dolls, and an abandoned house. but it's also filled with white people. and although Us probably foreshadows a lot of things, it feels really nice to see black people front and centre in a horror film that is not about race. it's nice to see black people open the door you know they shouldn't. it's nice to see black people scream. catch this in theatres, right now. don't wait another second. but, be careful - Us may not make you scream nor pee your pants. but I promise you, it'll leave you restless, with a pounding in your chest.

It's cold out, and my lips are trembling - I place my hand on my cheek to conceal the tear rolling down my face. a nice little old lady stares at me at the traffic light. I give her a nod and a smile, and then she looks away. I am absolutely fine; ROMA did this to me.

as I grapple for the words to express how I feel, I can't help but look back to how this all came to be. how I've longed to see this movie, how I've read every critic review, how I promised myself to see it in theatre - all of this, yet not knowing what to expect.

but Alfonso Cuarón has not made a movie. he's carefully crafted an experience; one filled with love, and grief, hope and betrayal; one filled with reality and truth. and he's invited us in, with his hands over our eyes, like a mother leading her child to a surprise.

following the end credits, I breathed a deep sigh, thankful that I experienced this in the theatre - not only is it a gorgeously visual experience, it's auditory quality is gracious and lush. there's little to no music, but that is deliberate - you feel every sound (in 4K atmos too), carefully designed to immerse you in this world that Alfonso has created, but Yalitza Aparicio has executed, with acting as opulent as it is captivating.

maybe it's me being too vulnerable, and I just might be overselling it, but this film is truly in a world of its own.

and so I close my eyes. I hear the water crashing against the shore. I see the tears rolling down Cleo's eyes. I taste the salt in her mouth. I feel the sorrow in Sofia's voice. I am absolutely fine; ROMA did this to me.

Nicole Kidman is an absolute beast in this movie. Her performance in Destroyer is truly enthralling, and quite frankly, the highlight of the entire picture. She submerges herself in the character both physically and emotionally. You can easily feel her pain and bleak persona. Even her joyous moments- as scarse as they are- were well interpreted by Kidman.

The movie is a fine movie, at least to me, though many don't feel that way. It is a must-see.