Sundays are for wishing you had more time in your life for wild excess, instead you sit at home reading books under a blanket drinking a mug of caffeine free tea.
Well, that and catching up on all everything you’ve missed out on over the week, you don’t have to have watched a film to enjoy reading reviews you know.
This week there ain’t been to much gold in the multiplexes, I don’t think anyone wants to compete with Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, it’s hard to blame them. I think the emptiness of the theatre screenings I attended was deserved. Anyone who is willing to read subtitles though has been richly rewarded by some amazing dramas coming in from France and Japan.
Katell Quillévéré’s Heal the Living feels freshly observed, never more so when its characters are trying to find a way to navigate humour.
The medical professionals know the brain is dead long before they receive the scans detailing the internal haemorrhaging. They maintain the still breathing corpse long enough for his parents to say goodbye. They then have to ask their permission to extract the healthy tissues for donation, the seventeen year old never had a chance to make his intentions clear. >>more>>
Michael Apted’s Unlocked is a film with a portrait of Obama on the wall, written when Bush was president. It doesn’t play so well under the shadow of Trump.
There seems something vaguely inappropriate about Orlando Bloom saying, in one of the worst Jason Statham impressions of recent time, that one of his ‘mates’ died in the 7/7 attacks. He’s trying to justify why his small time crook, caught lifting a television from CIA agent Alice’s (Noomi Rapace) flat, should be allowed to tag along on an investigation into an unfolding bioterrorist attack. >>more>>
Baran Bo Odar’s Sleepless is functional in its action but there’s nothing about the cast of dickheads that make me want to spend time watching it.
The flick seems the same way. Away with empathy and understanding, they’re at odds with the story they’re telling: one of these asshole people all fighting each other over a sack of powder. There’s some smart decisions made in that regard, like how there’s not really any civilian casualties, if there were we might start to feel conflicted. I mean, like Foxx and Monaghan are more likeable than the rest, largely due to their natural advantage of being two damn charming performers. >>more>>
Kôji Fukada’s Harmonium is extraordinarily delicate for a crime thriller, thanks to the generous performances of his leads.
Furutachi plays such a skillful game on the screen. His character slowly tilting their hand towards the camera, by the end you’re seeing who he truly is and it’s not surprising, you just wonder how it never became obvious any earlier. Tsutsui, who has the job of just giving, setting he co-stars up, receiving what they give her, takes this role as her own. She commands the screen, when it comes her character’s turn to act, instead of just listen, she plays it with pure invention. >>more>>
Sean Foley’s Mindhorn struggles against a script too in love with the characters the screenwriters created for themselves.
Which is part of my stumbling block with the flick. It got that David Brent problem. Now it’s not nowhere as bad, this film actually tells jokes instead of just expecting you to laugh, but they share the same point of view. That of an older white guy. >>more>>
Outside of the cinemas I’ve been watching the unveiling of our Labour party’s most progressive and exciting political manifesto I’ve seen from this country. I only wish they were led by a person who I could trust to effectively turn those promises into a political reality, let alone actually get elected.
The NHS hack is troubling and scary. I’ve been asked before if I would prefer someone be able to access my private information or be able to read my mind. They can have my mind any day, it’s far less personal.
Ivanka Trump’s book came out. I haven’t read it, like the rest of the world, but I did enjoy laughing at the reviews and reading all them hot takes. Some people are such good writers you guys.
Oh and I saw some theatre on Friday, it was a collection of three work in progress short comedy plays: City by Pippa Gladhill; The Pasta Machine by Andy Alderson and Dummy by Andrzej Wawrowski. I don’t make it to the theatre enough but it was an ably performed, goof-filled two hours. I might actually write up a proper post about it but in case I don’t have time it’d be crass not to mention it.
Next week we’ll be getting reviews of Alien: Covenant, Miss Sloane, Frantz and The Levelling. I’m sure you’ve all been looking forward to those.
Anyhow, I hope you all have a great week, full of exciting and positive things. Thank you all for reading.
This weeks music is Caroline Shaw’s Partita for Eight Voices it’s a super crunchy composition and enjoys basking in its own silliness sometime too.
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