Reviews
Lacey is our observer, but we sense that she does not really want to be. She tries to penetrate her mother’s sadness, but remains outside the adult world of her lovers and friends, pains and longings.
What distinguishes the film from a slew of other indie dramas, though, is how this conflict unfolds not just in spoken dialogue, but in the creak of the floorboards, muffled conversation through thin walls, the hum of the radiator.
Eschewing traditional methods of exposition like dialogue and voiceover, Hvistendahl reveals character relationships and plot primarily through meticulous attention to audio and visual details.
Forgoing any touristic impulse, Patiño takes his cues from filmmakers such as Peter Hutton and especially Mark LaPore, charting not only the people and places before him but also his fundamental distance from those environments.
What a pleasure to watch a movie without a guilty conscience. What a relief to get to enjoy what everyone knows: movies create us, in our own fantasies and other peoples’, in our behaviors and expectations, in our public selves and erotic drives.
It is remarkable how many common prequel issues Miller and co-writer Nick Lathouris are content to sidestep entirely. Furiosa has almost no meta-shibboleth winks to fans or superfluous cameos.
In placing us so fully within the complexities of the COVID-era present, Coma reveals our very inability to unify it in thought.
In Our Day sets two unconnected, rhyming narratives against each other for scrutiny—like looking at two paint samples from the same spectrum side by side and parsing the differences.
Creton builds his characters up from the outside; they lack a real sense of interiority. Where A Prince thrives is in its lush cinematography, inviting the audience into cozy, well-worn interiors and verdant, rich landscapes.
The film is another of brothers Bill and Turner Ross’s immersions in the regional euphoric...The filmmakers are after a kind of Herzogian ecstatic truth, often to be found in the kinds of spaces where someone is likely to be rolling on literal ecstasy.
The film is a digressive, musically driven bildungsroman told through a series of vignettes that glimpse slivers of contemporary West Indian British life. Ové shoots London as alternately drab and vibrant.
What starts out as an environmental parable, pitting respectful efforts to live in balance with nature against shortsighted corporate greed, turns into something far stranger and more disquieting.
The 15-year-old me would have gotten a big kick out of Civil War—but for better or for worse he’s not writing this review.
The Zellners do not lean into such a crude comparison, yet it is hard not to read the dissolution of the cryptid community as an echo of the real-life devastation settler-colonialism has wrought on this continent’s peoples.