It’s been maybe the poorest week for film all year. Some good films came out too, but the art houses and the multiplexes all full of shit. That said, before I write it all off, I couldn’t catch screenings of either Norman or Wilson, which as you can probably tell by the names are two schlubby ageing white dude movies, but they both actually look pretty sweet.
Claude Barras’ My Life as a Courgette came out the week before last but I only got around to it on Monday. It’s a proper magical work and the best argument for not expanding your stories beyond the scope they need.
It’s a light film, gentle and composed in a way that leads it to fly through its running time. At 66 minutes it’s probably the shortest theatrically released film this year. Don’t mind it though, 66 minutes is the right length for this thing, the quiet confidence it expresses, its insistence in finding the meaning in the small tender moments in these lives is magical, all that would be gone in a longer piece. >>more>>
Roger Michell’s My Cousin Rachel makes something joyful out of itself. By divorcing itself from the first person perspective of the novel, all its dark twists and turns resolve into this grand exploration of the original plotting, it gives the viewer the choice of their protagonist.
Oh man, this is way better than I was expecting. Like I thought it’s be some second tier gothic period thriller from a lesser known Daphne du Maurier title but heck, this one actually got some go to it. It opens on a Cornwall cliffside, this peculiar gash in the land, ominous and threatening. >>more>>
Nicole Garcia’s From the Land of the Moon is just a real boring romantic melodrama. It seems like everyone involved should be better than this, they’ve all put out much better work in the past, mystery.
I don’t have too much to say about From the Land of the Moon aside from how boring it is. Like, it’s real dull. >>more>>
Cate Shortland’s Berlin Syndrome uses its aesthetic to fundamentally misrepresent the narrative it engages with. I don’t think that’s where the intent was, but I’m not sure it’s possible to leave the theatre after this feeling okay.
Berlin Syndrome is a 110 minute movie. If you’d asked me how long I’d been in the cinema right after it ended I’d have said about two and a half hours. It’s not a particularly slowly paced movie, it’s just unbearable. >>more>>
Alex Kurtzman’s The Mummy represents the gift of another blockbuster franchise into the hands of like the shittiest rookie cishet white guy director. I’m sure Universal is wondering wherever they could possibly have gone wrong.
That said, Kurtzman’s credits separate him from the rest of his club, seems he’s been a Hollywood writer for hire for years, primarily of garbage. Like, Michael Bay joints, and those Star Trek ones before Pegg took over, The Amazing Spiderman 2… Looks like the work of someone who failed forward fucking big time. >>more>>
It’s fun times here, I’m entering into the final rehearsal period for a play at the moment. I’m going to try keep my posting schedule consistent but if I drop a day or two along the way I am sorry. Gotta run along to work now, so no time for idle chatter.
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