Just imagine these men—some just boys—crouched on the sand, poking for explosives, nervously deactivating them, knowing that one wrong move will be their end… imagine that, and you will also accurately represent this incredibly tense film.
Just imagine these men—some just boys—crouched on the sand, poking for explosives, nervously deactivating them, knowing that one wrong move will be their end… imagine that, and you will also accurately represent this incredibly tense film.
A Man Called Ove is exactly as advertised: a funny, feel-good piece that is safe and agreeable (and nothing more).
Asghar Farhadi is a morality play machine. He cranks them out like no tomorrow, and every single time I can’t help but admire how grippingly he tells them. The Salesman is not his best work, no, but it’s still loaded with that neorealist world-building that I love him for.
ames Baldwin was a brilliant, brilliant writer, thinker and humanist. If you’ve never read his work, you should take yourself down to your local bookstore and rectify that ASAP. I Am Not Your Negro is not a documentary about him, but it’s entrenched in his prose.
Remaking what is arguably one of the best animated films ever made is inevitably going to result in backlash, because why have an inferior facsimile when you can cherish the real thing?
The film is the very essence of “hag horror”: we’ve got a mentally unstable protagonist (Davis) wasting away in a decaying Louisiana mansion, we’ve got dismemberment, we’ve got gaslighting, we’ve got sassy maids with suspicious minds.
Charles Laughton’s The Night of the Hunter is justly heralded for its craft, and I’ll join in the lament that Laughton never got the recognition he deserved for this.
The Lady Vanishes is not “lesser.” It’s about as good as anything I’ve seen from Hitch thus far (which is not a lot, admittedly, but I’m getting there).
Woman and the Glacier is a near-wordless evocation of self-imposed solitude in the name of nature.
James Gray is a director you can count on to give you just the right amount of beauty and substance. It’s always a pleasure to watch one of his films, because the compositions are always so on-point, the technique so crisp and luminescent, and the storytelling packed with emotional beats and refined characterisation.
There’s nothing wrong with Marc Webb’s Gifted. It’s heartwarming without being saccharine, blessed with a strong, feisty performance from young Mckenna Grace.
Another film about the process of filmmaking, Their Finest takes us to bomb-riddled London in 1940, where a young secretary is hired by the government to help script morale-boosting propaganda films.
The Lure is part-fairy tale, part-Bildungsroman, part-trippy rock opera, and a whole lotta ‘80s glitz and glam wrapped into one twisted, salacious treat. Except, it’s an incredibly messy one, so the experience is not as exceptional as I’ve made it sound.
Prevenge isn’t very original if we’re being honest here, nor does it reach levels of sheer insanity and bloodcurdling horror.
For the most part, Maudie succeeds in shedding light on Lewis’ tenacity, artistic vision, luminosity and endurance. Who would have known that behind the gentle, smiling face and diminutive frame lay years of pain and struggle?