Recently when I was at a movie theater, I saw a poster advertising a viewing of Fight Club. I learned that it was set to screen in numerous cinemas again to mark the film’s 4K restoration. That happened this past week, and I wasn’t able to go, but I thought now would be a fun time to discuss a film that I regarded as among my favorites for years. It’s still one of my favorites, but as a personal rule, for my top ten films I now only choose one work per director. David Fincher’s filmography is filled with masterpieces, and Fight Club is among the best movies directed by him, though my personal favorite is The Social Network. The fact that the two films are stylistically and tonally so different is a testament to Fincher’s skill.

So much has been written and said about Fight Club. A lot of what I’m going to discuss here comes from articles and video essays I’ve encountered about this film throughout my life. The particular element here is my reflection on how watching this film when I did shook my world in the best way. Fight Club is such a bold film that, when I saw it, I felt like new horizons had opened up. The movie did things I didn’t know you could do in a film.

If I remember correctly, the first film directed by David Fincher that my brother and I saw was The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. We had seen advertisements for it, and it intrigued us. We found it to be quite moving. I think Fight Club was the second film from Fincher’s filmography that my brother and I watched. My brother read a brief retrospective about it somewhere and was really excited. We taped a version of it that aired on cable and that was edited for content; otherwise, we wouldn’t have been allowed to watch it, and rightfully so. When my brother and I saw the theatrical cut on home video years later when we were older, we learned that the television version cut out just a few seconds here and there of violence and sexual material. It was mostly the same film. I explain all of this to provide context of my experiences with the director’s work and with films in general at the age when I first watched this movie. I was not prepared at all.

Fight Club (directed by David Fincher, screenplay by Jim Uhls, based upon the novel Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk) is unrelenting from its very first scene. The movie starts with Edward Norton’s character (whose real name remains a mystery throughout the film and whom I will refer to as the protagonist) with a gun in his mouth. He’s bruised and beaten badly, and he’s in his underwear while his gun-toting captor Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt) struts around while eagerly checking time. They’re on a floor high up in an office building with massive glass windows. Through the protagonist’s almost deadpan narration and through a quick camera that slides down and across into basements of nearby buildings, viewers learn that numerous vans packed with explosives are set to blow up soon. The film then cuts in such a quick way to the past to begin telling the story of how the protagonist and Tyler ended up in their situation.

The narration is present throughout the film, and it’s one of the coolest aspects of the movie. Norton has phenomenal delivery as he shares the details of his life with a mix of self reflection, misdirection, and acidic humor. There are utterances that reappear in variations to create a motif. I feel that oftentimes, narration can undermine a film because it can interpret what’s happening on screen without inviting the audience members to contend with what they experience. Here, the narration works because the language is so rich and because the voice over by the protagonist is dialed back when the activity on screen is extreme and frenetic. Also, early details about the protagonist reveal that he’s not entirely honest, which clues viewers to not take everything he says at face value. The narration, in addition to enhancing scenes through descriptions and humor, gives a compelling insight into how the protagonist thinks.

The film is such a high energy experience throughout, even when the plot events in the opening sequences after the flash forward are mellow, because of the amazing editing and camera work. The scenes transition in such interesting, quick, and satisfying ways that viewers feel a sense of urgency. The camera often pans, sometimes very quickly, to show the breadth of interior locations and to home in on hard to see but significant details. This is a restless film, and the narration, editing, and cinematography complement each other powerfully to create a heightened sense before violence erupts. I give immense props to editor James Haygood and cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth for their amazing work.

Going back to Edward Norton, not only is his narration excellent but so is his physical performance. The bitter, smug look on his face is confrontational and endearing; his frustration with his life is understandable. The way he carries himself, with his shoulders close and his neck hunched, adds a fitting pathetic quality to his character.

In stark contrast to Norton’s performance is Brad Pitt’s as Tyler. Pitt gives Tyler a laid back swagger and constant look of confidence. His shoulders are always back; he’s more than comfortable in his own skin.

The third major character is Marla, played by Helena Bonham Carter. The protagonist meets Marla early on, and she changes his life significantly. Bonham Carter gives Marla a magnetic aura and a tragic dimension. There’s a sadness in how she speaks, a subtle trepidation in many of her movements.

I don’t want to give away much about the film’s plot, even though it came out over twenty-five years ago, because I don’t want to spoil anything for anyone who hasn’t seen it. When I was a teenager about to watch this for the first time, I knew nothing about it except for the fact that a bunch of guys form a secret club in which they beat each other up. That is part of the plot, but the escalation and twists the story takes are amazing. When I saw this for the first time, I was floored by how confidently the film developed in unpredictable ways. I’d never seen anything like it before.

Also, the film has so many great meta moments that left me in awe at my first viewing. There’s a sequence in which the narrator speaks right at the camera; in this same sequence, a character points out on the screen the cue marks in a projected film to signal to a projectionist that the reel needs to be changed.There’s another moment that is meant to appear as if the film strip is shaking; its borders appear. The fact that this film calls attention to the fact that it is a film in a way that doesn’t diminish its themes and its story is great. Watching this as a teenager, I felt as if this movie was breaking the rules of what “should” be done in a film. I hadn’t seen anything so formally inventive and narratively daring.

The legacy of this film is complicated. Unfortunately, I’ve noticed that numerous people online haven’t seen this movie as a satire and haven’t realized that none of the characters are meant to be emulated or held up as models. This is the risk with all satire; some audience members miss the joke. Part of the arc of this film is to present certain actions and ideas as alluring before ultimately exposing them as ridiculous and destructive. There are absurd visuals as the film barrels to its phenomenal climax that helped me see it as a satire in my first viewing. Also, as my brother has carefully pointed out, this film critiques aspects of society and also critiques various ways to cope with the issues caused by society. It has complexity and richness.

That’s why I think this film has been deemed as a modern classic, and why it deserves to be. I rewatched Fight Club this past week to jog my memory for this discussion, and once again I was gripped from start to finish. I highly recommend this film to anyone interested in a fierce satire. This is a film I know I’ll revisit throughout my life.

Share

Subscribe now

One of my dear friends mentioned the horror film Exit 8 to me and I was intrigued. Upon further research, I learned that it was based off of a video game. I became even more interested. In an earlier discussion, I’ve described how film adaptations of video games sometimes fall flat. A technique to generate a specific response or effect that works in an interactive medium sometimes loses its immediacy and power when moving to a less interactive medium. Also, the way stories are told in video games often differs from the way they’re conveyed in movies. Environmental features and item descriptions in a game can relate narrative information to a player; these elements are much harder to pull off in a film.

Still, I don’t think it’s impossible for a film to adapt a video game faithfully and to be a solid film on its own, appealing to viewers who might not be familiar with the game. I think Exit 8 is one such film.

Before diving into details about the film, I’ll describe the video game that serves as its basis.

I didn’t play the game before watching the film, but I did watch a playthrough of the game on the internet. The video game, called The Exit 8 (developed by Kotake Create), has players navigate a corridor in an underground subway station in a first-person point of view. They pass through a couple of turns and halls with doors, vents, posters, signs, cameras, and a man with a briefcase. After this, players encounter a repeat of the same halls and turns, which include the same man walking past. Upon continuing ahead, players discover that the sequence is repeated even one more time. Then, a sign on the wall past the second repeated sequence gives instructions to continue forward if there are no anomalies and to turn around and walk in the opposite direction if there are any anomalies. The sign also says to exit at eight, and a different sign explains that the current level is zero. Essentially, the game puts players in a loop and tests observation and memory. Players must determine if anything about the sequence has changed; if so, they have to turn around. If not, they continue forward. A change or anomaly can be as subtle as an alteration in one of the posters, or as obvious as the man acting differently. A successful assessment causes the level sign to increase once it reappears. A mistake of ignoring an anomaly or thinking there is one when there isn’t and walking in the wrong direction causes the sign to turn to zero again, making the player start over again. In order to beat the game, players must assess the sequence correctly until they reach level eight, where the exit is located.

One aspect of the film Exit 8 (directed by Genki Kawamura, screenplay by Kentaro Hirase & Kawamura, based upon the video game The Exit 8 developed by Kotake Create) that I admire for its success as well as its boldness and faithfulness is that it begins in the first-person point of view, just like the video game. However, while in the game players take control of a character that is a completely blank slate, the film uses the first-person point of view to put viewers right into the shoes of the protagonist (Kazunari Ninomiya) as he rides on a subway while listening to music. Details about this character are revealed as he makes his way through the underground station, rummaging through his bag for water and his asthma inhaler and speaking on his phone with someone from his past (Nana Komatsu). For several minutes, the film stays in this character’s first-person perspective until the phone call drops and he ends up in the corridor from the video game with the same walking man (Yamato Kôchi) and realizes that it’s repeating. The film cuts to a close up of his terrified expression as onscreen text calls him The Lost Man. What I love about this opening is that it efficiently introduces a character and develops stakes. The Lost Man had a fraught conversation on the phone, and its conclusion is up in the air. He has an urgent reason to escape from the infinite corridor. Also, the first-person perspective is so faithful to the game, and the fact that such a perspective for an extended period of time in a film is uncommon allows the opening to have a disorienting effect on the viewer. This disorientation is analogous to the confusion that players feel when first playing the game. Overall, this is a fantastic opening.

The camerawork is quite inventive throughout the film. A sense of claustrophobia builds through tight close ups on faces and backs. The first-person perspective is used again a few times in pivotal scenes to heighten their impact. Also, so much suspense and dramatic irony develop when the camera clues the viewers in to an anomaly that The Lost Man hasn’t seen yet. I commend the excellent work by cinematographer Keisuke Imamura.

The rules of the corridor are the same in the film as they are in the game, with The Lost Man reading them aloud to himself from the sign, and the visual appearance of the setting is mostly the same. The walls and floors are almost entirely oppressively white tiles, with yellow tiles and signs and multicolor posters and gray doors to break the terrible monotony. The film corridor has a few more elements that serve as possible sources of anomalies. All in all, the anomalies function as scares in the horror film, arriving unexpectedly. Tension builds over what The Lost Man will experience.

Elevating the setting is the fantastic sound design in the film. A lot of the scares rely on sound, and even when nothing creepy is happening, the ambient noises induce anxiety. There’s also this ringing sound that occurs every time the corridor repeats. I don’t recall this sound being in the game. This sound got under my skin as the film progressed, and I say this as a complement.

Another element I like is that a lot of the anomalies relate to what The Lost Man observed on the subway and the contents of his phone conversation earlier. The endless corridor becomes his own personal hell, and he has to confront aspects about himself that he’d rather not deal with. I love when, in a horror film, the external environment reflects the internal struggles of the characters. This blend of the interior and exterior worlds is both unnerving and infuses the story with emotional weight.

The film touches on themes of guilt, and there are several surprises along the way that I won’t spoil here. One complaint I do have though is that, after walking away from the film, I ponder some enigmatic features that I cannot fully wrap my head around. I don’t need to know the logic behind everything that happens in a film, and I suppose the fact that I’m still thinking about it means that the film has succeeded in lingering in my mind, haunting me in a way. However, there’s a line for me between feeling wonder at ambiguity and feeling confusion. Certain elements of this film lean into confusion.

This is super subjective though, and I understand that fellow viewers might appreciate the unexplained elements more than I did. Overall, I do recommend Exit 8. The film adds depth to the premise of the game, and the excellent performances throughout draw in the viewer’s emotional investment. The filmmaking craftsmanship also allows the setting to be so immersive that I was unnerved walking out of the theater. The fear of being lost is a primal one, and this film also pushes on my own personal difficulties with navigating directions. I remember times when I’ve gotten lost at subway stations, and I think this film will be on my mind whenever I navigate a new station.

I see myself rewatching Exit 8 when I’m in the mood for something creepy and thought-provoking, and I look forward to checking out more works by Genki Kawamura and following his career.

Share

Subscribe now

Last week, two dear friends and I watched The Drama, and we couldn’t stop talking about it afterwards. We loved the film and discussed it deeply and excitedly. Much of what I’m sharing here comes from that wonderful time my friends and I had.

The Drama was one of my most anticipated films of 2026, and it lived up to the hype. Yet, it’s a hard film to discuss without getting into spoilers.

I’ll do my best to avoid significant plot details here, but if you want to watch it with as little information given away beforehand, feel free to stop reading and come back here after you’ve watched it. The last thing I’ll say before discussing what I loved about The Drama is a small warning. This film does deal with serious and heavy subjects.

At the core of The Drama (written and directed by Kristoffer Borgli) is a young couple, Emma (Zendaya) and Charlie (Robert Pattinson), who are about to get married. In order for viewers to be invested in the struggles that this couple endures, the love that the couple shares must feel believable. Here, it feels incredibly authentic thanks to specificity, messiness, and chemistry. As the film shows the first meeting, early dates, and shared life of Emma and Charlie, particular details become endearing, and these details echo throughout the film. These details help Charlie and Emma, with their quirks, preferences, and ways of doing things, feel like real people even early on instead of just cardboard cutouts. The messiness of their early interactions and dates also makes the the relationship believable. This isn’t a storybook romance; as well meaning as Charlie is, he’s sometimes awkward and messes things up. Emma is endeared by his efforts and gives him leeway. The fumbling and forgiveness feel relatable. The dynamic that Emma and Charlie have is sweet without feeling saccharine; they goof off together, find comfort in each other, and demonstrate care for one other. There’s an easy comfort between them, and Zendaya and Pattinson work so well together by infusing this couple with playful and sincere chemistry.

Emma and Charlie prepare for the wedding with their friends who are also a couple, Rachel (Alana Haim) and Mike (Mamoudou Athie). While initially seeming to parallel the dynamic between Charlie and Emma, Mike and Rachel eventually serve as foils for the central couple as the plot progresses.

Everything seems to be going smoothly as the wedding nears, until one night the two couples have a bit too much to drink while test tasting the food for the reception. They decide to play a game in which they take turns confessing the worst things they’ve ever done. Mike, Rachel, and Charlie each share something, and everyone laughs off the shortcomings. Emma confesses something she’s ashamed of that everyone else in the room finds deeply disturbing. They’re shocked, and Rachel even acts aggressively and antagonistically.

Over the next few days, with the wedding getting closer and closer, Charlie must grapple with fears that the person he loves might not be who he thought she was, and Emma has to prove to herself that her bond with her beloved hasn’t been cracked beyond repair. The details of Emma’s confession are extreme, and the crises the couple faces are real. Trust slipping away and faith being broken in relationships are not uncommon. Through all of this, the film balances a tone of frequent dark humor sprinkled with moments of genuine pathos. Some of the humor comes from the disjunction in how two characters interact or from how a character gets more desperate when trying and failing to do something; in these instances, the humor feels natural. Also, some punchlines come from situational jokes and absurd imagery. I think the humor works because laughter is one of many natural reactions in the face of something terrible. When something awful happens people can cry or laugh, and this film encourages viewers to follow the second option. The humor also allows the moments of genuine sorrow and pain to land in even more impactful ways by establishing contrast.

Zendaya and Robert Pattinson are brilliant in this movie. Their performances cover the wide emotional ranges that the film navigates and draw out immense depth and complexity for their characters. Zendaya conveys even intense feeling in such a powerfully understated and naturalistic way. When her eyes water and her voice cracks, I feel that I’m watching a real person experience heartbreak, not an actor on screen. Robert Pattinson is jittery and worn out as his character undergoes so much mental stress. His actions become more ridiculous and extreme as his character unravels. Charlie’s inner turmoil is so effectively made clear thanks to Pattinson’s performance.

The turbulent situation also illustrates new dimensions to Mike and Rachel, and Athie and Haim add new facets to their characters.

An aspect my friends and I love about this film is the editing. The film, in numerous instances, quickly cuts to a flashback or an imagined present. The imagined moments illustrate what the characters want to happen or what they think might happen. I was moved by these parts of the film and thought they were clever ways to visualize psychological tension. The quick editing also occurs in some present day scenes, and this overlap of style for moments that are past, present, and imagined supports a theme of the movie. The editing shows a connection between instances that are supposedly literal with moments that are figurative, thereby pointing out how all experiences are shaped by emotion. A fond memory and an imagined future are both shaped by feelings. The interplay of feeling and world events ties into how the plot illustrates that conflict emerges both from external factors and individual responses to those factors. Overall, this technique infuses the film with energy while elevating a central idea.

Another aspect of this film that feels so rich is the way in which the subplots echo the main plot. The subplots touch on similar motifs of perception, shortcomings, and forgiveness. I also mentioned how character details are revisited throughout the film and help bring the characters to life. The same is true of plot details. For example, a small and almost missable action or exchange develops into something more significant later. I don’t know if I would call this foreshadowing in every instance; sometimes it is, while other times, a moment that seems to serve one purpose ends up serving multiple. Such structural elements make everything in this film feel purposeful, and there’s satisfaction for the viewer in thinking back to earlier scenes with new awareness provided by later ones.

By the end of the film, a poignant and moving view of relationships is reached, which is almost surprising since so much of what has come before feels iconoclastic in how it defies the expectations of a romance film and a drama. A comedy about a couple’s pre-wedding jitters wouldn’t have as heavy of a revelation as the one Emma shares. A movie about such a severe confession’s impact on a relationship wouldn’t typically be as laugh out loud funny as this film is. The Drama is subversive, but it arrives at an earnest notion. The ending asserts that a loving relationship requires trust, openness, communication, and forgiveness to survive and that these qualities are not the easiest to reach but are worthwhile. Reflecting on this film, I consider among the best films about romance, love, and relationships because of its clear-eyed perspective.

My one small complaint with this film is that there are a couple of plot events near the end that I’ve seen before in films about relationships and weddings. As I’ve mentioned, a lot of this film is surprising, so these plot points don’t feel as inventive as earlier moments. This is a small critique though because the events in the film still have the specific details that connect to the characters and the central situation; they don’t feel like genre tropes, just somewhat familiar territory.

Overall, The Drama is a well-constructed film elevated by phenomenal performances. It’s thought-provoking and surprising as it also moves the heart. I’ll be thinking about this film for quite some time, and I look forward to rewatching it.

Share

Subscribe now

I’ve been hyped for Project Hail Mary since I watched the trailer and saw Ryan Gosling as a smart researcher on a mission in outer space. I love Gosling’s work as an actor, and the roles he takes show off different aspects of his skills. This was a new side to him as a performer that I was excited to see. Plus, I’m always down for a good space adventure.

Overall, I’m really happy I saw Project Hail Mary. It was a little messy at first, and I still think some of its elements could have been elaborated further. Yet, there’s so much to love about this film, and its strengths far outweigh its minor flaws.

My discussion is going to contain details that I consider spoilers. Please check out the film first if you don’t want any plot elements to be revealed here.

The opening scene of Project Hail Mary (directed by Phil Lord & Christopher Miller, screenplay by Drew Goddard, based upon the novel Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir) is deliberately disorienting. In a spaceship, an astronaut (Ryan Gosling) wakes up from an induced coma. He freaks out, not knowing where he is or what he’s meant to do. His memory is spotty. He finds that the other two crew members are dead; they never woke up from their comas. Slowly, the astronaut gets his bearings and pieces together his mission. His memory also comes back to him. Flashbacks reveal his life on Earth before the space journey, and these flashbacks serve as a parallel plot to the main plot. As the current storyline in the spaceship progresses, a linear account of his life in the months leading up to leaving Earth is interwoven through flashbacks.

The intention behind the opening makes sense because as the protagonist learns what’s happening, so does the audience. This technique often works for exposition. My first main issue though is that the initial twenty or thirty minutes have to convey a lot of character work and plot details grounded in science very quickly; this comes off a little overwhelming and feels a little messy. I’m not completely sure what could have been done as an alternative. I know sometimes, films just inelegantly reveal the world and the premise before getting on with the main story.

Also, though I haven’t read the book, several of my friends who also enjoyed the movie did read the novel. They said that the film actually glosses over or condenses a lot of the scientific details. I therefore infer that the filmmakers understood that the film shouldn’t get bogged down in the scientific elements at the expense of character and story.

Ultimately, maybe a variation in when certain information was revealed could’ve made a difference and allowed the opening to feel smoother.

The astronaut remembers that he is Ryland Grace and worked as a school teacher. One day, during lessons, he addresses students’ concerns about headlines they’ve seen: a strange cosmic phenomenon involving an infrared line between the Sun and Venus seems to be reducing the power of the Sun. The Sun gradually dying means catastrophe for much of the life on Earth.

At the school where he teaches, Grace is approached by Eva Stratt (Sandra Hüller), who is tasked with leading an international team to solve the issue of the dying Sun. She seeks out Grace due to his controversial papers on alternative life forms and brings him to a lab to study samples taken from the infrared line. Grace confirms that these particles, dubbed “astrophage,” are alien microorganisms, but they go against the theories he’s written. He conducts more experiments with the help of security guard Carl (Lionel Boyce) to understand how astrophage functions. What propels these scenes is the lighthearted and humorous tone, executed by the script and the performances. In the experiment scenes, Grace and Carl have a great dynamic, and Grace is endearing due to being somewhat thorny but mostly nerdy and excited. His thorniness is a response to difficult circumstances and weighty burdens.

Ultimately, astrophage is deduced to be feeding off of energy from stars. The international team has discovered that numerous stars are dying, but that Tau Ceti isn’t despite the clear presence of astrophage around it. The mission is to send a team of three scientists to Tau Ceti to determine how the star is able to survive and to share information with scientists on Earth so that a plan to save the Sun can be developed and enacted.

On the ship, Grace encounters an alien spacecraft. The alien vessel tries to communicate by sending capsules with models inside. These models represent stars and also try to convey the purpose for the alien ship’s presence. Though fearful and hesitant at first, Grace ventures to the alien ship and discovers the only survivor: a being that appears to be made of sentient and mobile rocks. Slowly, Grace is able to interpret the melodic sounds that the alien makes and translate them into English using real-time software on his laptop. He refers to the alien as Rocky due to the alien’s appearance and learns that Rocky’s species is also at risk of dying due to their sun being dimmed by astrophage. Rocky and Grace are on the same mission, essentially, and they decide to work together.

When Rocky appears, the film soars for me. The film becomes a story and a celebration of communication, understanding, and mutual support. Rocky and Grace are from different species and have completely different backgrounds and even biologies, and seeing the ways in which they form connections and are able to relate to each other is beautiful. Rocky and Grace organically develop from partners to friends who make sacrifices for each other.

Rocky is imbued with so much personality and heart thanks to excellent character design and special effects. Rocky moves expressively thanks puppeteer James Ortiz and his team. Ortiz also provides Rocky’s voice, the one that projects through Grace’s laptop. Ortiz and his team bring Rocky to stunning life, and Rocky emerges as a deeply lovable and endearing character.

As much as I adore Rocky, I think this film belongs to Ryan Gosling. He conveys such depth and complexity as Grace. He’s been thrust into such an extraordinary situation with world-ending stakes. Through all of the pressures on him, he has to rely on his fortitude, his knowledge, and his creativity to overcome obstacles and complete the mission. He uses humor to lighten heavy situations, frequently bantering with Rocky and Grace’s ship’s computer. The humor is a clear coping mechanism and an expression of Grace’s humanity in such dire circumstances.

I also applaud Sandra Hüller as Eva. Hüller conveys the weight of Eva’s mission by having the character present a professional and pragmatic front. Occasionally, the character’s softer humanity slips through, but we as viewers get the sense that the character sees warmth and kindness as luxuries that cannot be afforded when the world is at risk of ending. Sandra Hüller’s performance is rich and complex in her few scenes, and she gives her character a tragic dimension.

There are some incredible action scenes in this film. One in particular made me hold my breath and clench my fists. The visual effects are overall really good.

A few more complaints I have involve the fact that a certain revelation in the flashback plot didn’t land as hard for me as it could have. I saw the revelation coming. This is just a subjective thing; I believe the revelation probably did land in an impactful way for fellow viewers. Still, I wonder what the overall effect might have been if this revelation were to be conveyed in the middle of the film’s runtime instead of the end. Maybe it would have felt less underwhelming.

Also, as much as I like the visuals already present in the film, including the designs of Grace’s ship and Rocky’s ship, I wish the film featured more visuals to convey the majesty and overwhelming nature of space. If I compare this movie to two other recent space films I really like, Gravity and Interstellar, those two older films filled me with a sense of awe and wonder at the expanse of space in ways that Project Hail Mary did not really do.

My complaints though are minor compared to what this film succeeds in. Project Hail Mary has an optimistic message about support and care that feels earned. There are very satisfying character moments and plot developments. This film lifts the heart, and I can easily recommend it. I look forward to revisiting it.

Share

Subscribe now

This week, I watched the new Disney/Pixar film Hoppers with two of my dear friends, and we all had an awesome time. The movie was both hilarious and heartfelt. It had an excellent premise and great themes. It deserves to be regarded as an animated classic and as among the best films from Disney and Pixar.

From the very beginning, Hoppers (directed by Daniel Chong, screenplay by Jesse Andrews, story by Chong and Andrews) establishes great character work. Viewers are introduced to the protagonist, Mabel (Piper Curda, with Lila Liu as younger Mabel) as she gets in trouble at school for trying to free the numerous classroom pets. When her plan is about to be thwarted, she pushes back and ends up biting a teacher’s hand out of desperation. During her punishment, Mabel is sent to live with her grandmother (Karen Huie), who shares the same love of nature as Mabel. Mabel’s grandma brings Mabel to a nearby glade and teaches Mabel how to regulate her emotions by feeling at one with nature. Mabel and her grandma form a deep attachment, with Mabel spending as much time as she can with her grandma as they both care for the animals in the glade. When Mabel grows into young adulthood, she moves in with her grandma and attends a nearby college. After her grandma passes away, Mabel continues to devote herself to the glade and the wildlife of the town. This puts her in direct conflict with the town’s mayor Jerry (Jon Hamm), who loves building superfluous infrastructure by wrecking natural habitats. What I love about this opening is that it establishes Mabel as the protagonist so well. Her priorities are clear and admirable. She is revealed to have a good heart while struggling with emotions during times of stress. The importance of the natural world of the town increases for her after her grandma’s passing because of the memories she made with her grandma. All of this characterization makes Mabel someone viewers love to root for.

The central conflict of the film begins when Mabel delays Jerry from detonating the glade Mabel and her grandmother spent time in and that Mabel still holds dear. Jerry claims he’s legally allowed to do what he wants because all the animals are gone. He challenges Mabel to get public support for the preservation of the glade. Mabel knocks on doors all over town and barely gets any signatures. She then goes to her university professor Dr. Fairfax (Kathy Najimy) for help, and Dr. Fairfax explains that the presence of beavers in the glade will bring more wildlife with them. Beavers can alter the environment through the dams that they build, creating conditions that can attract more animals. That night, Mabel tries to attract a beaver. She sees one that appears to be kidnapped in a black van. Following the van, Mabel ends up back at the university and discovers that Dr. Fairfax and her colleagues have developed robotic animals and a device that can put an individual’s mind into the robot. Dr. Fairfax calls this technology “hopping” and says it’s only meant for observation of the animals. Mabel forced her way to put her mind into the robotic beaver so that she could bring beavers back to the glade. Her quest has her learn about the surprising dynamics and customs of the natural world, as well as brings her face to face with a variety of fascinating animals including George (Bobby Moynihan), a king beaver who is optimistic and soft-hearted, sometimes to his detriment.

I understand that I explained a lot of the plot, but I’ve only given away the very beginning. So much happens that is genuinely surprising. There are moments that I still think about because they were so unexpected in the best ways. The film manages easily slides between various emotional registers, from warm contemplation to exciting action, from absurd humor to moments of gentle horror. There are also really moving emotional scenes that land so well because of the great character work and careful plotting. The fascinating science fiction premise of the film is used to its fullest, with great scenes of tension emerging from how the technology is used.

The voice cast does amazing work bringing the characters to life and navigating the film’s various emotions. Piper Curda gives Mabel a deep earnestness and heroic determination. Karen Huie gives Mabel’s grandmother a profound nurturing quality. Jon Hamm is perfectly smarmy and suitably pathetic in scenes of intense stress as Mayor Jerry. Kathy Najimy gives Dr. Fairfax passionate energy as a gifted researcher. Bobby Moynihan imbues George with warmth and gentleness. I won’t spoil the plot, but I will say that so many amazing performers appear later on, including Meryl Streep and Dave Franco, and they give amazing performances.

Enhancing the emotional element of the film is the dynamic score by the skillful Mark Mothersbaugh. The amazing SZA provides a beautiful original song during the end credits, “Save the Day.”

The animation and visual design of the film is fantastic. The different hairstyles and clothing choices match the personalities of the characters so well. Th The environments are lush and beautiful. The designs of the animals strike the perfect balance of being adorable and detailed. I love the big expressive eyes of the beavers, and I’m amazed at how real their fur looks, especially in scenes in which they are swimming.

My friends and I loved the powerful themes of this movie. The stakes in this film are high. Many characters brush against death, and a few characters are shockingly killed. The film doesn’t shy away from the consequences of conflict. It ultimately asserts that lasting harmony can be reached once people truly cooperate and when individuals trust each other’s capacity to be selfless. It’s an inspiring and hopeful message that feels earned through the plot and character arcs. The film additionally has excellent environmentalist themes about how the natural world must be preserved and how humans must see themselves as a part of nature instead of as outside it or in opposition to it. This idea is necessary and central to current environmentalist efforts.

I have just one small critique of the film. It felt a little too fast, a little too high energy. A lot happens in a very short runtime. I don’t think any dramatic or emotional scenes were shortened, so to slow down the pace of the film, I think a few minutes of low energy activity with the characters could have been included in between some of the really intense moments. This is just a small nitpick though.

I think I’ve discussed before how a great family film has layers to it. There are elements that younger audiences appreciate as they experience the deeper themes and messages. Older audiences can ponder the themes in more complex ways. To me, Hoppers is a fantastic family film. It’s so rich, and I think younger audiences will still appreciate its ideas while being captivated by the action and the humor.

I’ve noticed that Disney and Pixar have been churning out a lot of sequels. Some films warrant follow ups and expansions of their narratives, but many of the announced sequels seem unnecessary. They are seen as financially safe projects because they build off of earlier successes. In contrast to all these sequels, Hoppers presents a distinct artistic vision. It is not part of a franchise or an established series. The entire cast and crew did amazing work, and I hope this film finds great success and popularity both because it deserves to due to its artistry and because its success can encourage studios to support more original stories.

I highly recommend Hoppers. I adore this film, and I think everyone who finds any aspect of its premise or visual design interesting should watch it.

Share

Subscribe now

This weekend, the horror film Ready or Not 2: Here I Come is releasing in theaters. I had never seen the original, but I had heard that it was a good contemporary horror film. Curious about the new movie, I decided to watch its predecessor. Overall, I’m glad I did. The original Ready or Not is an entertaining watch and is easy to recommend, even if I wish some of its elements were pushed further.

The opening scene of Ready or Not (directed by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett, written by Guy Busick & R. Christopher Murphy) is so good at pulling viewers in. Tracking shots and long takes through the dimly lit halls of a mansion capture a frightening scene heavy with dread and the atmosphere of the occult. The film jumps ahead in time to the primary event of the plot: Grace (Samara Weaving) is getting married to Alex (Mark O’Brien), who has brought Grace to the sprawling, lavish mansion that his incredibly wealthy family owns for the ceremony. Alex has distanced himself from his family for a long time, but he seems to reluctantly allow the wedding to be here. Alex’s older brother Daniel (Adam Brody) also has tense feelings about their family, but he hasn’t distanced himself in the way Alex has. The early moments of tension revolve around the real anxiety of meeting a partner’s family. Exacerbating this tension is the class divide between Grace, who has come from a humble background, and her future in-laws, who live luxuriously. Behind Grace’s back, several family members express their views that Grace won’t fit into the clan’s lifestyle.

Early conversations reveal that Alex’s family has obtained its wealth from printing and selling games, and the family’s tradition is to play a game at midnight whenever someone marries into the family. The type of game to be played is determined from a deck of cards stored in a strange box. The one who has just married into the family has to draw a card at random, and that game must be played. Alex and Daniel’s family believe something terrible is going to happen if the tradition is broken.

On the night after her wedding, Grace draws a card stating that the game to be played is hide and seek. She soon realizes that the version being played is one in which her in-laws are to kill her when they find her. Armed with a variety of weapons, including antiquated axes and crossbows, Grace’s in-laws stalk the halls of the mansion. The night becomes a hunt for the wealthy clan and a quest for survival for Grace. The word “game” takes on the connotations it has in the context of hunting.

The premise is over-the-top, but the tone makes everything work. There’s a grim sense to what is happening, but there are also moments of dark humor. Some of the jokes land, but several that involve as their punchlines innocent members of the house staff accidentally being killed in brutal ways rubbed me the wrong way. Still, enough of the jokes work for me to give the film a welcome bit of self awareness

The performances from the cast are solid. Weird and annoying members of the rich family are cartoonishly evil in ways that fit the film’s tone. A few of the characters have moments of depth that add welcome complexity and pathos to the movie. My favorite characters are Grace and Daniel, and Weaving and Brody play their characters so well. Weaving gives Grace a groundedness and warmth in the early scenes. When events turn nightmarish, Grace has to manage her personal horror while letting her survival instincts kick in. Her resilience makes her character a fitting protagonist for a horror film, and she easily earns viewers’ sympathy and support. Brody gives Daniel a deep weariness. His movements are slow, his words are heavy. He doesn’t want to take part in this horrible tradition, but he feels as if he has no choice. The internal conflict of the character is palpable and compelling, and his character arc is satisfying.

The direction of the film is fantastic. It’s the reason I was hooked from the beginning to the very end. Bettinelli-Olpin & Gillett construct scenes so well, and cinematographer Brett Jutkiewicz pulls off excellent shots. So many sequences involve characters hiding just outside of other characters’ lines of sight, and the claustrophobic camera angles escalate anxiety and tension. Viewers are held in a firm grip by the scenes, wondering if characters will be caught. There are also fast-paced moments when the camera sometimes stays close to a character, allowing the audience to feel close to the character’s movements. Alternatively, a character would flee while the camera is pulled back, giving an uncomfortable sense that the character is being watched. Both techniques achieve different effects at the right times.

There are moments of heart-pounding actions throughout. Whenever Grace is discovered, she fights back. The fight choreography is appropriately messy while still being discernible. I give props to editor Terel Gibson, who does great work throughout the film and who cuts the action scenes so well.

The setting of the film is also fantastic. The mansion has a heavy gothic feel, thanks to its winding staircases, glass displays, and hidden passages. The woods around the mansion are thick and misty. There’s also an incredibly creepy sequence inside a barn. I commend the excellent work by production designer Andrew M. Stearn, set decorator Mike Leandro, and art director Bradley Greaves.

I also really like the score that Brian Tyler has composed for this film. The music is sinister and tense while also carrying layers of dark playfulness.

This is a very well-executed movie, and it’s entertaining from start to finish. My main issue with the film is, I wish that some of its ideas and themes were explored more deeply.

I discussed earlier that the film plays on the real fear of marrying into a family and realizing that the beliefs about the new partner and their relatives are wrong and that the truth is much worse. I appreciate when horror films have a basis in the real world. I wish this element about crushed wishes came through in a deeper character arc for Grace. There are about two scenes in which she grapples with the fact that Alex isn’t who she thought he was because he has hidden this horrible truth about his family from her. I think more moments of her grappling with how the truth in front of her has shattered her hopes and expectations could have elevated this element of the film and infused the movie with more dramatic heft.

Also, the film criticizes the callousness and self-centered actions of the obscenely wealthy. It illustrates that the desire to cling to privilege leads to monstrous behavior. This is welcome social commentary, but it could have been explored more deeply. One interesting element is the fact that a few characters are not originally from the family but have married into it and accepted the terrible traditions. There are only brief moments when these characters describe their motivations, but I wanted more. This is such a compelling concept, the circumstances that compel people to shed their humanity and to accept evil.

I don’t think that the film, in order to have these deeper themes, needs to have a longer runtime. I appreciate the fact that it’s only a little longer than an hour and a half. I think maybe a few of the chase scenes and some of the jokes that aren’t very strong could have been replaced with more dramatic character moments.

Overall though, my issues with the film don’t significantly hamper my enjoyment. I can see myself rewatching Ready or Not many times. Its atmosphere and the fact that it is a horror comedy make it an ideal watch for Halloween season. I also have more interest in the sequel now. The ending of this film, without giving spoilers, is satisfying and feels closed. I want to check out how the sequel continues this story. For anyone interested in a fast-paced horror film, Ready or Not is definitely worth checking out.

Share

Subscribe now

My mind is on the Academy Awards ceremony that is being held this weekend, and I want to put my ideas into words to share here. My thoughts are kind of knotty and are not super smooth, but I think that navigating them in this space can be worthwhile.

I have conflicted feelings about the Academy Awards in general. I used to be super interested in them around 2008. As I’ve written about here, Michael Clayton was a film that fundamentally changed how I saw movies. I began to engage with them on a deeper level, and since that film was nominated for several awards at the 2008 ceremony, I was inspired to watch some of the other nominees that year. A few I saw before the awards were given, and some I watched after, but I did end up viewing and enjoying all the Best Picture nominees.

I think since that ceremony, I became invested in the winners for a while. I remember during the awards season at the end of 2008 and into 2009 rooting for The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and being disappointed when it lost to Slumdog Millionaire. Looking back, Slumdog Millionaire was the more compelling and ambitious film, but The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was the film that personally moved me the most. Now that I’m older and my tastes have changed, I don’t regard Benjamin Button as among director David Fincher’s top movies, even though younger me was shaken by the film’s melancholy.

In one way, my investment in the Oscars is not dissimilar, I think, from how sports fans root for favorite athletes or teams. There is satisfaction when the favored contestant wins, and disappointment when that does not happen. The major difference, of course, is that any arts awards are heavily based in subjectivity while sports are generally more fair competitions with clear rules and the winner being the ones who perform the best.

With such subjectivity, there is no avoiding the fact that many films that viewers find undeserving are awarded, and that films that are beloved are shut out. A brief list of films that have been shut out of winning a single Oscar while being personal favorites and/or important films for the medium and the industry include Blade Runner, Do the Right Thing, Memento, Children of Men, Lady Bird, and Challengers.

So of course, when the films I like the most do not win major awards, I feel bummed. This is inevitable. However, I suppose my disappointment would not feel as bad if there wasn’t so much nonsense and terrible stuff involved with the Oscars. For years, the term “Oscar bait” has been thrown around, and it carries much truth even now. This term refers to a type of film that tends to play to the interests of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences voters. These films tend to be historical dramas or biopics without bold or innovative filmmaking techniques and with elegant production. Some of these films are perfectly fine, but they tend not to push the medium further. I believe in an effort to broaden the types of films that are honored and to expand the tastes of the voters, the Oscars decided to expand the Best Picture nominees to ten from five for the 2010 ceremony. Soon after that, however, the list of Best Picture nominees was allowed to change in number from five to ten, and the ten nominees became fixed again just a few years ago. Despite a broader selection, though, Oscar bait still ended up winning; examples that come to mind include The King’s Speech and Green Book.

Another annoying aspect is the fact that so much of the Academy Awards comes down to campaigning, so the films that often win major awards are just the ones that had the best campaigns. History is full of examples of films that won Best Picture when there was a more deserving nominee; one of the most egregious examples of this I think is Shakespeare in Love beating Saving Private Ryan in 1999.

Also, when subjectivity is involved, more destructive forms of bias can be present. A terrible moment in Oscars history was when Crash, with its superficial and ultimately irresponsible analysis of how racism operates in the United States, won Best Picture over Brokeback Mountain. Viewers could not help but see the Academy’s decision here as being compelled by homophobia. Also, about ten years ago, the Oscars So White campaign launched in response to the fact that the Academy Awards consistently failed to recognize the work of artists of color. I wrote about this in an op-ed in the student newspaper for the undergraduate school I attended. The Oscars So White campaign was a much needed wake up call for the Academy. As a result, membership expanded to include more diverse artists, and artists of color began to be recognized for their work. Furthermore, I believe that the diversity initiatives have caused international films to be nominated for a variety of categories and to win major awards beyond Best International Film. Of course, more work can always be done to ensure that the Oscars truly reflect the landscape of cinema, with its diversity and innovation.

I’ve just summarized how the Academy has biases and blind spots. I’ve explained how often, films that fans throughout history have held in high regard have been snubbed from major awards, with some classics getting no awards at all. After all this, why do I still care about the ceremony?

I care because it’s great to see my favorite films get recognized. That feeling of satisfaction to see the people you’re rooting for taking home the trophy is wonderful. It’s also nice when there are unexpected and pleasant surprises.

With that said, I’ll touch briefly on this weekend’s ceremony.

One Battle After Another seems to have a lot of momentum based on earlier ceremonies from this year, but I think that film has significant flaws. I want Ryan Coogler and his cast and crew to take home as many trophies as possible for Sinners. That’s an incredible and original film that deserves to be a modern classic. It is deserving of so much. Plus, over the years, I’ve read think pieces about how the Oscars feel out of touch with film audiences because a lot of the nominees are not seen by large audiences. I don’t think popularity equates with quality, but in the case of Sinners, the film deserved its amazing box office run. It is for sure a popular movie.

A pleasant surprise would be Delroy Lindo winning Best Supporting Actor for his performance in Sinners. That category is among those I feel the most conflicted about. Lindo is so deserving, and he’s a great veteran actor, but Stellan Skarsgård was also excellent in Sentimental Value. Despite the flaws I find in One Battle After Another, I think Sean Penn and Benicio del Toro gave great performances. I never saw anything with Jacob Elordi, and he turned me into a fan thanks to Frankenstein. This is such a strong group of nominees.

The Best Supporting Actress category is another one I feel conflicted about. I thought Wunmi Mosaku was fantastic in Sinners. Though I did not love how her character was written, Teyana Taylor gave a great performance in One Battle After Another. Both Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas and Elle Fanning were awesome in Sentimental Value. My slight preference goes to Amy Madigan for Weapons because I love that movie and she was so good in it.

If I were deciding the awards, I would give Best Adapted Screenplay to Train Dreams. I really like that movie, and I think it should take home something. I appreciate how the screenplay honored the source material while also adding interesting changes that made the story feel more tender overall.

I would also give Best International Film to The Voice of Hind Rajab. As much as I adore No Other Choice, I would not give it the top prize, but I think it’s a shame No Other Choice wasn’t even nominated.

Those are just a few of my thoughts. I’d love to hear from you! Do you enjoy the Oscars? Do you follow the nominees and the winners? Who do you think should win this year?

Share

Subscribe now

I was feeling nostalgic this week, thinking about some of my all time favorite movies. I realized that this year marks the twentieth anniversary of Casino Royale, the first James Bond film I ever watched. It might have ruined James Bond films for me; the bar that it set was so high. All in all, I really like Daniel Craig’s tenure as the iconic spy. The five films he starred in do tell a decent overall story, though some films in the bunch are better than others. Casino Royale and Skyfall are my two favorites, and I always have trouble picking which one of the two I like more. I confidently believe I will discuss Skyfall at some point.

As I enjoy doing here when discussing an old favorite, I will reflect on what I can remember from my first time watching this awesome film, and I will also touch on aspects that I’ve noticed as I’ve grown older. The parts of this film that impacted me right from the beginning are its groundedness and its emotional elements, and a lot of its themes have become more clear to me in the years since my first viewing.

The opening scene of Casino Royale (directed by Martin Campbell, screenplay by Neal Purvis & Robert Wade and Paul Haggis, based upon the novel Casino Royale by Ian Fleming) sets the tone so well. In a black and white sequence, Bond confronts and kills the second of two men he had been assigned by MI6 to kill in order to earn his status as a 00 agent. He coldly shoots the man in the man’s office, but before that, the scene cuts back and forth from the office to an earlier killing in a bathroom. The killing in the office is icy, while the one in the bathroom is absolutely brutal. Bond gets significantly beat up before ultimately killing that first target. This sequence introduces James Bond as a cold-blooded killer who will finish the assignments MI6 gives to him. There’s nothing glamorous here about what he’s doing. He’s ruthless, merciless.

Then, the title sequence arrives. Usually, a different musician makes the main theme song for each new James Bond film. For Casino Royale, the legendary Chris Cornell played “You Know My Name,” the song he wrote with Casino Royale’s composer David Arnold. I love this song for Cornell’s phenomenal singing and for the haunting lyrics. Upon rewatches, I clearly notice how the lyrics foreshadow the events of the plot to come. “Arm yourself because no one else here will save you,” Cornell cries, and Craig as Bond fights on as the credits play, unable to heed the warning.

The whole plot is very grounded in the sense that there are no major over the top or spectacular elements. Bond foils a plan by terrorism financier Le Chiffre (an incredible and memorable Mads Mikkelsen) to bomb an airport and send a certain company’s stocks tumbling. Le Chiffre bets against this stock, and he loses money that had been lent to him by a terrorist group when Bond prevents the bombing. This puts Le Chiffre in a corner, and he hosts a poker game at the titular Casino Royale to win back the money he has lost. Bond’s ultimate mission is to win the poker game and to push Le Chiffre to surrender to the MI6. The first act of the film builds to this poker tournament, and while it features globe-trotting locations and incredible stunts, there is again that brutality from the first scene. The action and fight scenes have incredible heft to them; every blow, every shot hits with an impact. The performers and stunt actors do amazing work. Again, Bond’s ruthless dedication to doing his job is on full display. Yet, he’s also messy and reckless. In an amazing scene, his boss M (the great Judi Dench) chews him up for killing instead of apprehending a target. He’s ultimately chosen by MI6 to go to Casino Royale because he’s really good at poker, not because he’s great in the field yet.

Bond’s failures humanize him. What I love about Craig’s performance of this character is that he plays multiple layers at once. He plays Bond as the agent, the one who puts on a front to smoothly talk his way into places to find clues or gain information. Below this, there is that ruthless killer who has been trained to take people’s lives if the job demands it. And even below that, there is the man who can stumble, who can be hurt. When the glimpses of that man come out from below the spy and the killer, when that humanity seeps out from within, the character of James Bond comes to life.

I had mentioned that Casino Royale had ruined James Bond for me. This is best exemplified by the fact that, not long after watching Casino Royale, I noticed that Die Another Day, the previous James Bond film, was on television. I was interested in the character now, so I decided to watch, and I quickly lost interest. Die Another Day felt more like a superhero film, with lasers from outer space and fortresses made of ice. I’m not against speculative elements or over the top spectacle, but what I love about Casino Royale is that the realistic setting and plot beats allow viewers to more easily see the iconic James Bond as a flesh and blood character. Indeed, all the characters in this film are compelling.

As I’ve mentioned, Bond gets hurt and makes mistakes. There is also immense emotional hardship he endures. My favorite aspect of this film is watching Bond work with Vesper (Eva Green), the Treasury agent tasked with making sure he doesn’t lose millions of dollars. Bond and Vesper are put into this difficult situation and endure a lot, and they must learn to trust each other. There’s a fantastic scene when Bond gets cocky and loses all the money, and Vesper rightfully refuses to give more. Bond is ready to knife Le Chiffre when the cool, calm CIA agent Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright) steps in and lends Bond money. I admire the friction between Bond and Vesper because it humanizes them and also makes the later moments when they work together feel more earned. Bond is almost poisoned at one point, and Vesper saves him.

Also, through Vesper, Bond is confronted with the brutality of his job. She is frequently horrified and disturbed by his uses of violence, even though Bond at Casino Royale only kills if he really has to. When Bond comforts and soothes Vesper, he understands the weight of his actions.

Ultimately, the strong connection that Bond and Vesper build, as well as the physical turmoil that Bond endures, push him to almost walk away completely. When Bond wins at poker, he and Vesper are kidnapped by Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre’s men. Le Chiffre brutally tortures Bond in a sadistic scene that also reveals Le Chiffre’s fear and desperation. Bond is luckily rescued and is hospitalized in order to recover. Once the mission seems to be over and Bond and Vesper are safe, he and Vesper decide to get together romantically. He even sends in his resignation letter when M calls him to say that the money from the poker game that Bond won is still missing. This is when he realizes that Vesper has betrayed him. She has been a double agent this whole time. He tracks her down, filled with hurt and rage, only to see her die. In the final action scene, a building is collapsing in a river, and Bond fights through a group of armed men to reach Vesper to try to save her. She refuses to let him save her, and she drowns.

The ending of this film is deeply tragic. After being physically wrecked from his mission, Bond’s heart and soul are shattered. The James Bond films are often seen as masculine fantasies. Bond wears luxurious suits, travels to amazing locations, heroically defeats evildoers, and sleeps with beautiful women. One of the brilliant aspects of Casino Royale, beyond its construction as an exciting spy thriller with emotional and human elements, is that the film asserts that the glamor is just on the surface, and that the fantasy really is just a fantasy. Bond is not someone to aspire to be. He is a killer, but he is also a tool used by MI6 to achieve certain goals. When she’s criticizing him, M calls Bond something to the effect of a blunt instrument. He is almost killed by the mission. And, he loses the person he loves right as he’s about to walk away from being an agent. When he appears in the final scene apprehending a suspect and introduces himself as “Bond, James Bond,” he does so as a shell of the person he once was. That man below the surface has mostly been crushed. The efficient killer is who remains. I see the rest of Daniel Craig’s James Bond films as partly the story of how Bond tries to recover or preserve what is left of his humanity after Casino Royale.

This is an amazing film that deconstructs James Bond before setting him on a path to rebuild himself. When people ask me how to get into James Bond as a film franchise, I tell them that Casino Royale is the one to start with.

Share

Subscribe now

No Other Choice was one of the films I was most excited about in 2025. I loved director Park Chan-wook’s Oldboy, having seen it two days in a row in theaters when it had its anniversary rerelease in 2023. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to catch this most recent film by Park in theaters. It just came out on home video, and I watched it this week. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. This is such a masterfully crafted film with an amazing cast and skillful camerawork and editing. All its pieces come together to precisely navigate tone and story and create a lasting impact.

The premise of No Other Choice (directed by Park Chan-wook, screenplay by Park, Lee Kyoung-mi, Don McKellar & Jahye Lee, based upon the novel The Ax by Donald E. Westlake) is deeply captivating. Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) has been able to support his family and buy his childhood home thanks to his many years of work at a papermaking company. However, once he is fired after the company is bought by an American one, he is desperate for more work. His family feels the weight of the financial stress; Man-su’s wife Miri (Son Ye-jin) has to take up part time work and give up her hobbies, and their son Si-one (Kim Woo Seung) and daughter Ri-one (Choi So Yul) have to give up their pet dogs. On top of that, Ri-one, who is on the autism spectrum and who is gifted at playing the cello, may no longer be able to have her parents support her music lessons, and the family might even have to sell the house. With all this difficulty and with over a year of low-paying work, Man-su decides that the only option for him is to kill a different paper company’s line manager, Sun-chul (Park Hee-soon), as well as two other ex-papermakers that would be likely to be hired over Man-su, Bummo (Lee Sung-min) and Sijo (Cha Seung-won). That is the only way, Man-su determines, that he can have a well-paying job that matches his years of experience and skill set. This murder plot unfolds as a rich dark comedy.

Park Chan-wook’s direction, and his talented cast and crew, are able to navigate tone so well. That’s one of the reasons the film is so memorable. The opening scene is of a family barbecue, and Man-su, Miri, Si-one, and Ri-one are so content. Man-su and Miri are so gleeful and effusive in their affection. The weather is gorgeous, and the camera catches the golden sunlight. The tone of this scene is so sugary, it feels borderline ridiculous, and we as viewers know the other shoe is about to drop. Indeed, it does, when the very next scene shows Man-su failing to appeal to the new American heads of the company and getting laid off. Man-su is later shown attending various support groups where attendees repeat mantras about self-worth, and his interview at a new papermaking company flops because the sun is so brightly shining through the window on his face. These details are all funny, while the stark reality of the family’s financial burdens are tragic, and this blend of tones is so exciting. This blend is maintained as the film progresses, with Man-su flailing as he tries to enact his murder plots. The film seamlessly slides from humor to pathos, and even to horror. None of the shifts feel jarring.

The actors are able to convey the necessary ranges for their characters in this tonally vast film. The whole cast is amazing. Lee Byung-hun plays Man-su as a man worthy of sympathy, eyerolls, and scorn. His plight is understandable and draws support from viewers, while his murderous schemes frequently fail in goofy ways. Yet, he does do unspeakable things. When he’s with his family, he conveys warmth as well as bitterness and paranoia when the stress of his secret plots begin to get to him. He’s a complex character, and his layers allow the film to both critique him as well as the larger context of why he’s doing his deeds. The film is ultimately a takedown of capitalism and how it strips people of their decency, illustrating a cutthroat job search in the most literal sense.

The supporting characters are just as complex. In stories where the father in the family is doing dark deeds in secret, the character of his wife can be reduced to a mere one-dimensional obstacle. That’s not the case here. The script and Son Ye-jin’s fantastic performance give Miri numerous dimensions. She is both rightfully frustrated with Man-su and suspicious of his strange behavior. She also gradually reveals a poignant yet fraught history between her and Man-su, one marked by deep love, trust, commitment, and also immense forgiveness. Her character journey is poignant, as Man-su’s actions become more extreme and the repercussions begin appearing at his family’s door.

The one character I wish had more screentime is Sijo. The few scenes with him are impactful, but the rest of the major characters all have so much more depth. The film delves into fascinating subplots that parallel and comment on the central one. For instance, Bummo’s years of unemployment have put a massive strain on the relationship between him and his wife Ara (Yeom Hye-ran). Man-su observes all this as he stakes out Bummo’s house in preparation for the plot to kill Bummo, and the relationship between Bummo and Ara serves as a fear of a possible future in Man-su’s mind for what might happen between him and Miri. In addition to subplots, there are interesting character details and motifs that persist throughout the film and sometimes develop. Ri-one, for example, doesn’t play cello in the house, so her family members only know of her skill from her teachers. Man-su often writes down things on his hand so he doesn’t forget what to say. Also, he is devoted to the plants in his greenhouse and around his family’s house. I love the plant motif because it stands for what some might think of as the ideal for work: careful attention and dedication leads to beautiful results. However, in the film, the plant work is corrupted by and also contrasts starkly with Man-su’s desperate killing plans. The film seems to say that the belief in hard work as a guarantee of success is a lie. The real way to get ahead is to do the unthinkable and to abandon any notions of persistent care and attention. These character plots and motifs are just a few examples illustrating how layered the script is.

The rich script and amazing actors are complemented by amazing technical work. The cinematography by Kim Woo-hyung is excellent. So many shots are so interesting, and lots of shots carry so much detail. For instance, a character will be doing something on one side of a wide shot, while on the very opposite side, a character is observing or following, and the center of the shot is the setting. Such a shot is unexpected and carries a sense of tension. Furthermore, the editors Kim Sang-beom and Kim Ho-bin are excellent. Some of the transitions between scenes are so interesting that I wasn’t fully sure of what I was looking at until a few seconds into the transition. All of this technical creativity infuses life into the film and reflects the confidence that Park Chan-wook and his team have in their storytelling abilities. Such confidence is welcome and exhilarating to behold.

Without getting into spoilers, the ending of the film initially didn’t land as hard as other amazing scenes in this movie. However, after thinking about it, I realized that it powerfully comments on all the events that preceded it. There were a few ways in which this story could have ended, and the choice this film goes with leaves viewers with a dark message about the inhumanity of capitalism.

I know that No Other Choice will linger in my mind for a long time. I highly recommend it for anyone who wants to see a complex film that is expertly crafted. I’m excited to explore more of Park Chan-wook’s filmography, and I eagerly await his future projects.

Share

Subscribe now

Ramadan just started, and I strive to take this time to reflect and be more self aware and conscientious. I wanted to keep up with my weekly discussions as well. The first few days of Ramadan tend to be an adjusting period for my mind and body, and I tend to feel the least energetic. I wanted to watch something short and fun this week. My brother recommended Black Bag, a spy thriller from last year directed by Steven Soderbergh. I’ve mentioned in my discussion of Soderbergh’s Presence that the director has such a vast body of work that covers so many different styles. Lots of filmmakers have signature flairs or trademarks, but I can’t really think of major or overt ones for Soderbergh. I think that’s really cool. I don’t know exactly what to expect whenever I watch a film by him, but I feel certain I won’t be disappointed. Furthermore, the script for this film is written by the also prolific David Koepp, who has written or co-written multiple modern genre film classics, including Jurassic Park, Mission: Impossible, and Spider-Man.

I had high expectations for this film, and it absolutely delivered.

The opening scene of Black Bag (directed by Steven Soderbergh, written by David Koepp) immediately pulls viewers in. In an incredibly executed long take, the camera stays right behind George (Michael Fassbender) as he walks through London at night, navigating alleys until he enters a club and finds the man he’s looking for, Meacham (Gustaf Skarsgård), in the lower level. The long take doesn’t cut until the men are upstairs and back outside, where Meacham tells George that he’s narrowed down the list of suspects of who might be the rat in their organization to five names, including George’s wife Kathryn (Cate Blanchett). There are so many things I love about this scene, from the immediate reveal of the central conflict and stakes to how the camera is such that the club lights produce a lens flare effect onscreen. This lighting effect is present throughout much of the film; household lights and office bulbs have a flare or glow effect, which enhances the paranoid atmosphere of the movie. This is a spy thriller, in which secrets are worth killing and dying over, and the bright lights create the impression that no one can hide for long.

I was about to credit the cinematographer and the editor, when my research for this discussion revealed that Soderbergh did the cinematography and editing for this film (as he sometimes does for his projects) under the aliases Peter Andrews for cinematography and Mary Ann Bernard for editing. These aliases are based on the names of Soderbergh’s parents, and I find that super cool.

The camerawork not only uses compelling tracking shots and long takes, but also uses particular angles to sometimes create a sense of disorientation and to sometimes give the sense that viewers are observing the events as if they themselves are spies. Characters are often shot from the corners of rooms, for example. The crisp editing keeps everything feeling exciting and fast paced.

George promises to finish his investigation in a week; Meacham explains that the technology stolen by the rat can result in many, many deaths. The other four suspects happen to be two sets of couples from the same intelligence organization that George and Kathryn work for. There’s Freddie (Tom Burke), who’s dating Clarissa (Marisa Abela), and Zoe (Naomie Harris), who’s involved with James (Regé-Jean Page). George invites the two couples for a dinner party at his and Kathryn’s sleek home. Here, he subjects the guests to mind games, having each of them reveal sources of pain and frustration from the people they are dating. The dialogue in this dinner scene is so good. It’s sharp and layered. The clashes of words make sparks fly as one character tries to unearth a secret and another character tries to maintain a front. This charged sequence reveals a major motif that is skillfully woven throughout the film: the knotty ties of work and romance, and how what’s good for the former can ruin the latter.

This motif is poignantly and poetically expressed about halfway through the movie by a character who clarifies the title of the film. This character reveals that “black bag” is a euphemism that people in the organization use for anything that cannot be discussed. It is also an easy excuse, according to this character, for members of a relationship to hide their betrayals from each other.

I love how the film uses the genre of the spy thriller to also meditate on the nature of relationships. The film seeks to ask, how can people who lie and hide for a living establish enough trust for a healthy relationship? As the film unfolds, the various scenes reveal a game of manipulation, secrets, and deception. Viewers become investigators themselves, as the film allows dramatic irony for pivotal information to come across to the audience while staying concealed from the characters. Conversations become plays for power as one side tries to extract something from the other side. Different revelations draw suspicion for different characters at different times. This is such a well-crafted movie, and Koepp’s screenplay is rich and fast-paced.

Bringing the screenplay to life are the amazing actors. The central cast is fantastic. Blanchett has a cool confidence to her that makes her both enigmatic and intimidating. Burke plays his character with a desperate sloppiness as the things he’d rather hide come to light. Indeed, many characters need to deal with their secrets coming out, and while Burke’s character Freddie acts in desperation, Abela’s character Clarissa responds with sardonic bitterness. Page gives his character James an undercurrent of simmering aggression that bursts out when he’s put on the back foot. In contrast, Zoe earnestly owns up to what is revealed. She is a psychiatrist who works for the organization; her reasons for keeping secrets involve protecting her patients. Fassbender plays his investigator of all these suspects with immense self composure. He maintains his firm resolve even in the face of immense pressure and crisis. His fortitude cracks only for the briefest of moments, revealing the vulnerable person underneath.

Also, without giving too much away, Pierce Brosnan appears in several amazing scenes as Stieglitz, the commanding leader of the organization. He has a dominating aura, but Blanchett is easily able to match him.

The sets in this film are fantastic. As I mentioned, the home of George and Kathryn is incredibly stylish. The organization’s building is very high tech, with chip readers, satellite feeds, and glass walls that turn opaque at the press of a button. I commend the excellent work of production designer Philip Messina, set decorator Anna Lynch-Robinson, and art directors Matt Francis, Meg Jones, Laura Mickiewicz, Marco Anton Restivo, and Adam Squires. The use of technology in this film gives it a welcome bit of a speculative feel. I wasn’t sure if the tech was real or not, but I found it all very neat. The technology in the story and in the sets are balanced by the grounded character work. I also appreciate how much of the investigation is conducted through conversations instead of gadgets and devices.

There are a few moments of violence, and these are used precisely for maximum impact. The violence isn’t gratuitous at all; it feels like the inevitable conclusion to events and decisions beforehand.

As I mentioned, the runtime of this film is short. It’s only a bit longer than one and a half hours. I have two opinions about this. On the one hand, its runtime is exactly why I chose to watch it this week. It also feels incredibly tight as a film. On the other hand, I wanted more scenes between some of the characters. The character work was already so strong, but a tad more would have made this film even stronger. Maybe a few scenes of solitary characters could have been trimmed to allow more character-with-character interactions while preserving the tight runtime. This is just a minor nitpick though.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed Black Bag. I was captivated from start to finish. It’s a skillfully executed genre film with poignant themes and ideas. I cannot wait to watch it again.

Share

Subscribe now

Part of me wanted to read Maggie O’Farrell’s novel Hamnet, a fictionalized rendition of the events in the lives of William Shakespeare’s family, before watching the film adaptation because my brother really liked it. I also sometimes enjoy experiencing the source for a film before my viewing of the film. However, part of me wanted to watch the movie first because I admire the two leads. I’ve been a fan of Jessie Buckley since watching her play Juliet in National Theatre’s 2021 made for television production of Romeo & Juliet that aired on PBS (and I recognize the cool coincidence that she now stars in a film about Shakespeare’s family). She was phenomenal in that role. I also really appreciate Paul Mescal’s work. He broke my heart in All of Us Strangers. Ultimately, I decided to see the film this week. I think this was the right call. As much as I like this film, I wanted somewhat more from its plot. I think I’ll find just that when I go to the novel next.

In terms of filmmaking craft and visual storytelling, Hamnet (directed by Chloé Zhao, screenplay by Zhao and Maggie O’Farrell, based upon the novel Hamnet by O’Farrell) is fantastic. The gorgeous cinematography by Łukasz Żal is transportive. The period costumes are so good, combining what historians have noted and what audiences would imagine from the time of Shakespeare with a grittiness. The same is true of the immersive sets, which draw from the imagination and from historical record while feeling grounded. Clothing gets torn and covered in dirt. The paths between the buildings are cramped in the city of London, while they’re wider in the more rural areas where nature also more easily encroaches. Rains turn to floods seep under the doors. I give massive props to production designer Fiona Crombie, set decorator Alice Felton, costume designer Malgosia Turzanska, and their teams for making the film feel like a glimpse into the past as well as tactile and recognizable.

I mentioned how part of the grounded feeling of the film comes from how nature impacts the human world. Nature is a powerful visual and story component throughout, and Zhao develops and carries its presence so well through scene construction. The opening shots show Agnes (Jessie Buckley) in the woods. Her body is framed in such a way to appear small against the massive trees. In an exhilarating scene that come soon afterward, she calls her pet hawk to her. The bird perches on her glove and eats while she speaks to the hawk.

Whenever characters walk through the forest, they are surrounded by the lush and sublime plant life. Agnes’s relationship to nature is a vital character detail. Her late mother understood plants and their uses, and she passed this knowledge to Agnes. Agnes’s stepmother is skeptical, maybe even fearful of Agnes’s connection to the natural world. There are unfair rumors about her. Yet, Will (Paul Mescal), the young man who would become the renowned poet and playwright William Shakespeare, is drawn to Agnes when he sees her. During their first meeting, he plays with her hawk.

Zhao is skillful at creating and maintaining atmosphere. The first part of the film is the love story between Agnes and Will, and it is marked by both happiness and tension. Agnes is reluctant to be with Will at first, and both of them have their own difficult home lives to endure. Somewhat paralleling the friction between Agnes and her stepmother is the abuse and control Will’s father inflicts upon him. When Will and Agnes want to get married, most of their family members are reluctant. Once they do wed, their new home life is frustrated by Will’s difficulties with writing. All of these details establish the sense that joy and pain are interlinked. These story elements also emphasize the perseverance of the human spirit to keep going in the face of setbacks.

Aiding Zhao’s navigation of the film’s emotional variation is composer Max Richter’s incredible score. His pieces vary from sweet and uplifting to tragic and heartbreaking while still feeling sonically cohesive. The score enhances each of the scenes by drawing the emotions out further.

An additional source of dramatic tension in this film is the fact that Agnes has some clairvoyance, and her abilities sometimes cause her to see things that alarm her. While her ability to see visions when holding someone’s hand is centered in heartfelt scenes, she has a vision that she will have two children at her deathbed and is troubled to deliver a second and third child as twins. The younger twin is born not breathing, and in a powerful scene, stubborn and defiant Agnes seems to will the baby to life.

Agnes’s and Will’s three children Susana (Bodhi Rae Breathnach), Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe), and Judith (Olivia Lynes) grow well into their childhood years, and the film showcases numerous scenes of familial bliss; such moments include the twins Hamnet and Judith trading clothes and the family members pretending to get confused as well as the three children acting in a mini play for Agnes. The actors for the children are excellent; they are able to convey both light and heavy feelings and do great work in joyful and gut-wrenching scenes.

I will now discuss the central plot element of the film.

While Will is away in London for his work, Judith falls deeply ill. Agnes tries her best to save her using medicines made from plants and herbs, but she only recovers when Hamnet falls sick. The film suggests a somewhat otherworldly component to this occurrence, with Hamnet saying that he wants to trick death and trade places with his sister. Hamnet, in a harrowing and heartbreaking scene, dies in pain in Agnes’s arms. Will soon returns, having heard news of Judith’s illness, to find that Hamnet is dead.

The rest of the film illustrates how Agnes and Will navigate their grief in their own ways. While Will seems to repress his feelings, Agnes’s grief is open and expressive. She fights with Will when he leaves so quickly to return to work in London. She also later resists moving out of the house because it’s filled with memories of Hamnet.

Throughout the film, Buckley and Mescal are fantastic. The scenes of their early relationship days are filled with earnest trepidation and excitement. There’s something that feels natural in how they get closer and become a married couple. They both convey great ranges of feelings, as required by the film. Mescal’s performance is a bit more subdued on the whole; Will is presented in this film as someone who is deeply invested in his craft of writing. He does convey excitement and joyful love when he’s with his family. Buckley’s character is more lively and bold. Buckley is incredible in this role. She’s nurturing and strong, and she conveys profound feeling for her family. She’s so tender when she shares the knowledge from her mother with her children. Also, her cry at Hamnet’s death will stay with me for a long time.

It is at this part of the film, however, when my main issue emerges. Not enough time is devoted to the experience of grief. Again, Buckley and Mescal are excellent, and there are emotionally heavy and honest scenes between them. Yet, I never felt that pervasive, everlasting quality that grief has when watching this movie. Due to that, the ending was diminished slightly, in my eyes, even though the ending is still good.

The film ends with Agnes and her brother Bartholomew (Joe Alwyn), who has always been a great support to her, going to the Globe Theatre to watch the play Hamlet. The central theme of Hamnet is how art can transform grief into something greater, something that can be communal and cathartic. Text appearing on screen at the film’s beginning explains that Hamnet and Hamlet are the same name in this place in this moment in time. We as viewers, as well as the characters, know that Shakespeare has named the titular character of his great tragedy after his deceased child.

The set up for this climax could’ve been developed further, in my view, by lingering more in grief. However, when the play is performed, aspects of its staging are deeply poignant. Will and Agnes have their own moments of necessary grieving, and they have a shared one, too. Also, in the very final moments, which made me cry, a piece from Max Richter not written for this film but composed much earlier is used: the iconic “On the Nature of Daylight.” Everything comes together so beautifully, and I thank Chloé Zhao for simultaneously breaking and rebuilding my heart.

This is a very well made film. I just thought the story could’ve been expanded a bit. I still highly recommend Hamnet for how well made it is. For Shakespeare fans, there is a lot here, from how the characters are rendered to Easter eggs of Shakespeare’s works beyond the inclusion of Hamlet at its center. For fans of drama in general, the whole cast and crew have crafted a piece of deep, genuine feeling.

Share

Subscribe now

I had heard of the film Blue Moon, which released last year, but only a little bit. All I knew was that Ethan Hawke, an actor whose work I really admire, was the lead. Recently, I looked more into the film and after discovering the premise, I knew I needed to watch it. It was a fantastic watch, and I highly recommend it.

In Blue Moon (directed by Richard Linklater, written by Robert Kaplow, inspired by the letters between Lorenz Hart and Elizabeth Weiland), Hawke plays Lorenz Hart, a lyricist who had worked with composer Richard Rodgers for many years but whom Rodgers decided not to work with when making the musical Oklahoma!, choosing to instead work with Oscar Hammerstein II. The central plot is that, after Hart watches the premiere of Oklahoma!, he goes to a bar and has to sort through his feelings and put on a brave face; he waits for the reception for the cast and crew of Oklahoma!, at which point he’ll have to congratulate his former colleague. He knows the musical is going to be a hit, and the bitter truth he must contend with is that Rodgers is going to find great success without him.

I had seen Oklahoma! at an excellent local production in my home town, but I had never looked into the careers and lives of the artists who’d made it. I didn’t know that Rodgers had worked with a longtime colleague before collaborating with Hammerstein. This film was therefore a way for me to be introduced to some historical details related to matters I was only a little familiar with. I do love when a film does that for me because history is among my favorite subjects. Beyond that, the premise is so thematically rich. It’s about an artist grappling with his past career and wondering if he has a future in his craft. As someone who makes art, I’m captivated by the film’s thematic concerns.

I’m so happy that the film delivers on its powerful premise. The way the film executes its vision is so exact. I give props to Linklater, Kaplow, and the entire cast and crew.

The major action of the film is almost completely confined to a single bar. After a brief opening scene, there’s a short moment of Hart watching Oklahoma! and leaving early to get to the bar on the same block. After that, the film never leaves the bar. Any references to the past happen through dialogue, not flashback.

This setting could feel claustrophobic, but here it doesn’t. It feels expansive. The narrative momentum of the film is Hart’s conversations with the people at the bar, some of whom work there, some of whom happen to be there, and some of whom he’s intently waiting for. These conversations shed light on Hart, conveying different aspects of his character, and also function as their distinct plot lines. For example, the bartender, Eddie (Bobby Cannavale), knows Hart and allows the lyricist to organically reveal exposition as the two pals catch up. Yet, the conversation isn’t just a way to share important information to the audience; there’s also a mini plot line over the fact that Hart has made Eddie promise not to serve Hart any alcohol but keeps pushing against this request on this night. Watching Eddie try to resist all the times Hart insists carries with it a tragic dimension. This is just one example of how the conversations between the characters in this film are so layered and have so much weight.

On that topic, the dialogue in this film is incredible. The language is dynamic and poetic without feeling overly contrived because it still has elements of natural conversations. Characters follow digressions and jump to different trains of thought. They also sometimes talk past or over each other. The balance between poetry and messy naturalism makes the dialogue so rich.

Speaking of language, there are several great scenes between Hart and writer E. B. White (Patrick Kennedy), who happens to be at the bar that night. These moments have a meta element to them. White and Hart talk about the importance of language and of picking the exact word. I tend to enjoy meta moments in films, and I really liked these. Furthermore, as with many of the conversations in the film, the conversations between White and Hart have more than one purpose. Beyond being meta, they illustrate Hart’s commitment to his craft. He takes his work as a lyricist seriously, and his love and admiration of language allow him to be humble toward White, whose skill Hart respects.

Another character thread I enjoyed involves Morty Rifkin (Jonah Lees), a young pianist at the bar who’s also a member of the the army. His presence helps contextualize the setting of the film as during World War II, and his moments with Hart highlight the contrast between Hart and a younger representative of the general audience for music in terms of their tastes. Hart’s opinions differ from Rifkin, creating gentle tension. Furthermore, Rifkin’s presence allows the film to sort of be a musical. Watching the credits, I learned that many of the songs Rifkin plays are from the era in which the film is set, and the musical works include pieces by Rodgers and Hart. This was so cool, and it was such a clever creative decision to have a supporting character be a pianist who performs throughout the film’s events.

Of all the supporting characters, though, the two most significant are Richard Rodgers (Andrew Scott) and Elizabeth Weiland (Margaret Qualley). I’m a big fan of Andrew Scott’s work as an actor, and I had no idea he was in the film until he appeared as Rodgers. I was so pleasantly surprised, and his performance was so good. The scenes between Rodgers and Hart stirred me so deeply. Hawke and Scott imbue the characters’ interactions with the full weight of their shared history. As they speak, details about the various reasons why Rodgers chose Hammerstein for his newest work emerge. Beyond the revelations, the conversations convey a huge breadth of emotions. The two men oscillate from repressed frustration to subtle animosity and even to transparent admiration and love. As I watched Hawke and Scott deliver their lines so powerfully, I occasionally wanted to yell at them, telling them to stop being so harsh, to remember that they care about each other. I was so moved.

As impactful as the back and forth between Rodgers and Hart are, there is even greater pathos in Hart’s conversations with Elizabeth. Qualley is fantastic in her performance as Elizabeth. She balances both the uncertainty of a young person navigating the world and the wisdom of someone who has had heavy experiences. Hart’s relationship with Elizabeth is complex. When the film starts, he expresses infatuation for her, and Eddie and Rifkin joke about if he’s slept with her or if he’s going to sleep with her soon. Initially, this comes off as a little creepy because Hart is so much older than her and because there is a power imbalance. He’s established in the theater world, and she’s trying to get her start. What prevents the relationship from being only off-putting include the fact that, many times, the way Hart speaks about her conveys a profound, non-sexual admiration and appreciation. Furthermore, through the jokes that Eddie and Hart trade early on, the film makes clear that Hart is closeted. All these details add complexity to Hart’s obsessive yearning for Elizabeth. What exactly does he hope to receive from her? Does he want sex? Does he want validation and acceptance? Does he want her to appreciate him as much as he appreciates her? The way the conversation between Elizabeth and Hart explores and clarifies the relationship between them is poignant and deeply moving, even heartbreaking.

As amazing as the whole cast is, Hawke is the center, and his performance is phenomenal. He embodies the conflicted, knotty, overlapping feelings that Hart is sorting through. So many times, he speaks with repressed emotions. He also shifts so quickly from pain to joy in a way that still feels natural. His feelings come through in the look in his eyes and in the inflections of his voice. I was so captivated by how fully he inhabits his character’s inner life. He held my deep investment.

Linklater gets excellent performances from his actors, and he directs his crew to construct the scenes so well. The cinematography by Shane F. Kelly and the editing by Sandra Adair are excellent. The film precisely cuts to close ups for maximum emotional impact, while medium shots capture the environment of the bar and allow the setting to feel real. There are also fantastic moments when, even though the bar is full, Hart is framed with no one behind him. Such shot construction highlights his loneliness.

This film was such a pleasant surprise. The script is excellent, the cast and crew are fantastic, and Linklater achieves his vision of a cinematic portrait of an artist and a meditation on art and life. I really loved Blue Moon, and I highly recommend it.

Share

Subscribe now

I am continuing on my plan to watch films from 2025 that I’d heard good things about but that I didn’t get a chance to see before the year’s end. I’d heard very good things about Bugonia, and further fueling my interest were the stellar cast and the fact that this is a film from Yorgos Lanthimos, whose movies Poor Things and The Lobster are excellent in my eyes. I watched Bugonia this week, and I really liked it.

There are so many strong elements in Bugonia (directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, screenplay by Will Tracy, based upon the film Save the Green Planet! written and directed by Jang Joon-hwan), and I’ll do my best to discuss them without spoilers. I know the film came out months ago, but it’s still something I don’t want to ruin for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet.

The premise is deeply compelling and has high stakes. The central character is Teddy (Jesse Plemons), who lives in a somewhat remote house in a quiet part of town where he keeps bees and spends lots of time with his cousin Don (Aidan Delbis). He has also fallen down a rabbit hole of conspiracy theories and believes that aliens are living amongst humans and are currently enacting a plan to destroy humanity. Teddy pressures and manipulates Don into joining a plot to kidnap Michelle (Emma Stone), the immensely powerful CEO of a massive pharmaceutical company. After the two men kidnap Michelle, they chain her in Teddy’s basement, where Teddy pressures her to confess that she’s an alien and to bring him to her mothership so that he can speak with her leaders and advocate for humanity’s survival. This is a deeply intense situation, since Teddy has illustrated through his kidnapping scheme, his manipulation of Don, and his expressed beliefs that he is not psychologically well and is also dangerous. Yet, balancing the darkness of this situation is the frequently comedic tone of the film. There are sources of humor in this movie. For example, the theories Teddy articulates are ridiculous, the kidnapping is barely successful and involves Teddy and Don getting their butts kicked, and the edits and musical cues are unexpected. A scene will cut to another in the middle of an action, for example. The music sometimes fits the emotional charge of the scene, but is often ironic. I smirked at all the times the score swelled with majesty and grandeur whenever Teddy rode his bike around town to find supplies for his horrible and ridiculous scheme. I give massive props to editor Yorgos Mavropsaridis and composer Jerskin Fendrix for their incredible work here.

As funny as the film is, it sometimes powerfully slides into utter tragedy and unmitigated darkness. The way Lanthimos navigates these shifts from dark comedy to dark drama is excellent and keeps viewers on their toes. The tonal slides echo the unpredictability of Teddy in his troubled psychological state and of the plot. One of the highest forms of praise I can say about this movie is that I could never tell what was going to happen in the next scene. I genuinely thought anything could happen. I love when a film captivates me like this.

On the topic of how the film is so unpredictable, I commend how the movie suddenly and unexpectedly reveals vital information. Some of this information comes in surrealist flashbacks. Some of it comes in dialogue alone. All of these instances make the viewer question what’s happening. For example, we have a particular assessment of Teddy because of what we’ve witnessed. However, a flashback will reveal something integral about him, and we get a better understanding of why he is the way he is and also feel a modicum of sympathy for him. This careful dispersal of information happens throughout the film for various characters, and I appreciate how it shakes the viewers and infuses forward momentum in the plot. Now that we know more about certain characters, for example, we have different ideas of what they might do.

There are also some powerful themes in the film that are given due weight. There’s a commentary on class; Teddy and Don are from a much more modest socioeconomic class than Michelle is, and viewers wonder if this stark class divide is fueling Teddy’s aggression toward and beliefs about Michelle specifically. The divide in socioeconomic status is so powerful conveyed in the visuals. In the opening sequences of the film, Teddy’s and Don’s living conditions are juxtaposed against Michelle’s lifestyle. Teddy and Don exercise on the floor of Teddy’s small home, for example, before the film cuts to Michelle in her high tech mansion, where she has cutting edge training equipment and a personal trainer to spar with. The clothing conveys the class divide, too. Michelle’s professional attire is stylish and clearly expensive, while Don in one scene complains to Teddy that the one good shirt in the house that comes closest to fitting him doesn’t fit him exactly. There is also the theme about how isolation can foster destructive thinking. Teddy explains that much of what he theorizes about the aliens has been learned from the internet, and we as viewers can infer that Teddy’s barriers between himself and the larger community around him has made him more susceptible to believing such conspiracies. Additionally, we understand that such barriers come from the pain he has experienced in his past. As the film progresses, themes about morality and fairness also emerge. Characters ponder the correct course of action among multiple options, for example. This movie weaves its themes into its plot so well and treats these important ideas with complexity.

The cast is phenomenal, and their amazing work allows the themes and the story to function as well as they do. The revelations and complexities would not come across as powerfully to the viewers if the actors did not convey the depths of their characters fully. They are all stellar. Jesse Plemons shows such immense range and complexity as Teddy. He can move so convincingly from desperate to aggressive to defeated. So much comes across in the tempo of his gestures and the intonations of his voice. Many of the scenes are power plays between him and Emma Stone’s character, and she is excellent as Michelle. She conveys a deep resourcefulness and a calculating mind as she tries to get the upper hand in order to escape her confinement. Her layers come across too when she expresses frustration and even regret over certain actions. The most heartbreaking character in my eyes is Don, and Aidan Delbis is incredible as his character. He conveys such deep love for Teddy, making Teddy’s manipulation even more terrible. Stavros Halkias plays a supporting character, a police officer who used to babysit Teddy. His appearances build in heaviness from mildly strange to truly dark, and Halkias is great in his few scenes.

As I mentioned earlier, the stakes in this film are very high. The threat of further violence looms over everything. When violence does erupt, it’s brutal and shocking. I appreciate this approach by Lanthimos because this artistic choice doesn’t sanitize violence but instead grapples with the true weight of it. The violence isn’t gratuitous either. When characters act violently, they do so because, in their minds, they have no other options. This is yet another instance of the film dealing with its themes and motifs complexly.

I truly cannot think of any major issues I have with the film. I wonder if the tonal shifts might be jarring for some viewers, but I really admire them. The humor, when reassessed from the ending of the film (again, I’m doing my best to avoid spoilers) can maybe be seen as a commentary on the futility of certain human endeavors. It also does serve as a balancing force to the heavier moments.

Overall, this is a compelling, exciting, and rich film that is executed so well by the entire cast and crew. I can easily see myself rewatching Bugonia. If you haven’t seen it and if what I’ve described sounds intriguing, then I highly recommend checking it out.

Share

Subscribe now

Now that the Academy Award nominations have been announced (Heck yeah that Sinners got a record-breaking sixteen nominations!), I wanted to check out some of the recognized films that I haven’t seen yet. One such film was Sentimental Value, which I’d heard good things about. I just watched it this week, and I’m so happy that I did. Sentimental Value is a poignant, emotionally deep, and thematically rich film. I know that I’ll be thinking about it for a long time.

At the heart of Sentimental Value (directed by Joachim Trier, written by Eskil Vogt & Trier) is a family: older sister Nora (Renate Reinsve), younger sister Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas), and their estranged father Gustav (Stellan Skarsgård). The opening scenes introduce us to these characters quickly and thoroughly. A voiceover elegantly and poignantly states the upbringing of Nora and Agnes, whose parents divorced when they were young. As I mentioned when discussing Train Dreams, a voiceover runs the risk of being forced or out of place, but here the voiceover shares a lot of information very quickly and also has an intimate feel to it. It has the quality of someone sharing a family story. The voiceover comes back throughout the film and maintains this same great quality. Its inclusion emphasizes a central motif of the film: family history.

After the divorce, Gustav moves away and gives all of himself to his career as a director of films. As adults, Agnes is a researcher specializing in history, while Nora has pursued an artistic career not unlike Gustav by becoming an actor. A really powerful opening scene shows Nora in distress as she’s about to go on stage for a live performance. She’s clearly distraught, dragging herself from her dressing room and ripping her costume because she feels that she cannot breathe. Ultimately, Nora is able to perform, and she even receives a standing ovation with the rest of her lead performers. There’s so much that a love about this scene, and it’s various qualities reveal to the viewer what’s to come in the rest of the film. The camera work is incredible; it’s very dynamic while also feeling grounded in the setting, allowing the space that the performers move through to feel concrete. The theater that serves as the setting for this scene feels like a real place, with various I connected components such as the dressing rooms, the main stage, and the backstage. Also, Reinsve’s performance is amazing here, as her performance is for the rest of the film. She conveys incredible range and depth while also having a naturalistic quality. Reinsve’s character Nora feels like a real person, not a film character, thanks to Reinsve’s amazing acting. The additional aspect of this scene that I admire is how it introduces a theme of how art can transform life. Art can take the real, heavy, messy feelings of life and turn all of that into something that can be understood or appreciated by artists or audience members.

The primary story of the film begins soon after Nora’s and Agnes’s mother passes away. Gustav returns into their lives and tells Nora that he wants to make his first feature film in fifteen years. He’s written a script with the intention to cast Nora as the lead. She refuses to work with him, saying that their relationship is so fraught that they cannot collaborate. After she declines, Gustav speaks at a film festival that is holding a retrospective of his career. At the festival, he meets Hollywood actor Rachel Kemp (Elle Fanning), who’s deeply moved by Gustav’s work. Rachel is also looking for roles that fulfill her, and so Gustav decides to cast her in the part that he wrote for Nora.

I’ve mentioned that Reinsve’s performance is amazing. Her character carries immense weight on her shoulders due to what she has lived through. Reinsve is surrounded by a cast that is also very skilled at bringing their respective characters to life. Stellan Skarsgård is excellent as Gustav. The character often has trouble expressing exactly what he feels, and Skarsgård does excellent work conveying Gustav’s feelings through facial expressions. Gustav’s inner life comes through clearly in the way his eyes widen, in the way his mouth drops open. Elle Fanning is excellent as Rachel, who pushes herself to be able to take on the role she knows is so important for Gustav. She also has moments of introspection and doubt when she wonders if she’s the right actor for the part. Fanning plays her character’s range of feelings so compellingly and clearly. Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas plays Agnes with a resilient patience as she looks out for Nora when Nora is distressed. She also conveys deep resolve when she has to put her foot down against Gustav. Her character shows greater depths as the film reveals more about her.

Indeed, the script by Vogt and Trier reveals information at the right pace in organic ways. As more about the central family’s history is revealed, the characters’ struggles become more understandable. One theme of this film is that pain can be passed down through a family line. One heartbreaking subplot is an exploration of Gustav’s mother Karin, who resisted the Nazi occupation of Norway during World War II. Karin was arrested and tortured by the Nazis. Her trauma and pain were passed down to Gustav and then from him to Nora and Agnes. Karin’s life is also revealed to be a major inspiration for Gustav’s script; this connects again to the major theme of how art can make life into a form that can be communicated.

Another aspect that I love about the screenplay is that it renders the characters complexly. The cast does excellent work conveying the layers and facets of these characters. There are no clear antagonists in this movie. Instead, there are people who have made mistakes and who continue to make mistakes, who try to change and have good intentions, who fall short of what they hope for, and who have to reckon with where they are in life and how they’ve gotten here. All the characters feel so real, and they are all compelling.

Adding to the realism is the camerawork, which as I’ve mentioned gives the setting a texture and grounds the characters in space. I give massive props to cinematographer Kasper Tuxen Andersen for such excellent work.

Complementing everything is the fantastic score by Hania Rani. The music is occasionally melancholy, occasionally discordant and unnerving, and occasionally wistful. It fits the emotional registers of the various scenes very well.

Joachim Trier brings all the film’s elements together into a compelling whole. As I’ve mentioned, there are heavy themes and motifs in this film about the connection between art and life as well as the effects of intergenerational pain. The film also touches on growth, redemption, and forgiveness in a way that feels satisfying while also respecting how complex these matters are. There aren’t easy answers or easy resolutions. The film seems to say that life is messy, and while art can perhaps give shape to certain aspects of life, art too is complex and weighty.

On that note, I love the meta elements of the film. This is a movie about a filmmaker trying to make a movie. The meta elements give Sentimental Value a sense of knowingness and introspection. It understands the capacity and limitations of art. It also understands that, for artists, the lines between art and life are often porous instead of rigid. On a personal level, I love art that is meta because the self-awareness allows for interesting themes and emotions. I love how this film in particular sits in the messy spaces of living life and of making art and looks at all of that with a clear perspective. As rich and deep as this film is, it still feels naturalistic and grounded because it welcomes complexity.

I adore this film, and I’m excited to check out more films by Joachim Trier. I highly recommend Sentimental Value to viewers who want a great character-driven drama.

Share

Subscribe now

Over the last half a week or so, I’ve been fighting an annoying cold. The symptoms that have come and gone have included headaches, muscle pain, fever, sneezing, coughing, congestion, and shivering. It’s been a rough week, but I’m feeling better than I did when my cold was at its worst.

I’ve wanted to watch a film and write about it, but the obstacles to watching have been that my congestion is so bad I think my hearing has been affected. It doesn’t always feel like my personal one hundred percent right now. Also the occasional build up deep into my nostrils sometimes makes my eyes watery.

As an alternative, I thought of writing about something I’ve seen before, but my symptoms make it hard for me to focus enough to covey any deeper or critical thoughts into words.

Yet, I did not want to miss a discussion this week. I’m grateful to have not missed one in the two years I’ve been doing this. I was not prepared to miss a discussion today.

Thus, I’ve decided I’m going to ramble a bit about what types of films I would have watched if my symptoms were maybe a little different. I’m going to explore what are the films I’d reach for on a sick day or sick series of days. I might even watch one of the films I mention here if I’m feeling better later.

I also think that, if one has an ailment that requires lots of rest in order to recover, then watching films would perhaps be an ideal pastime. I feel like watching movies isn’t an uncommon thing for people to do when they are under the weather.

I invite you, my wonderful readers, to share your thoughts on watching films when sick. Is this something that gives you escape or relief? What are your preferences for types of films in such a situation? What are some memories you have of films that made a miserable day feel a bit less terrible?

In terms of memories, I’ve mentioned this anecdote when discussing Ridley Scott’s original Gladiator, but it’s relevant here, too. I watched that film when I was quite sick. I believe I had a fever, and I remember my dear mom felt bad and was lenient to let me watch it. I can’t remember if my condition affected my viewing of it. Gladiator did end up being my favorite film for many years. That’s the most vivid sick day film memory I have, though I’m certain there are many other instances from my past involving me watching a film while under the weather. What I do remember though, on a slightly different note, is that sometimes when I was home sick from school, I’d have the chance to watch television shows that I wouldn’t be able to during school hours, such as The Backyardigans and the original Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!

I’ve discussed comfort films before, but I think sick day films are somewhat different, at least in my view. I mentioned that some comfort films can be exciting, and that some can be dark and challenging. My preferences will depend on how I exactly feel, but I can’t really see myself watching a challenging film when I’m recovering from a cold or similar ailment. I’m already low on energy, so I don’t have much to invest in what I’m watching.

The similarity between a comfort film and a sick day film however is familiarity for me. Though, depending on how I’m feeling, I might need more than familiarity. I might need something that I’ve seen so many times that it’s practically memorized, like a favorite storybook from early childhood.

Films that would fall in this category for me include the original 1994 Disney film The Lion King. We had that on VHS growing up and watched it all the time. I know that story so well. I know the scenes, the songs, the characters. It’s a film that absolutely holds up and that I know I’ll enjoy for years and years to come. Plus, its connection to my childhood makes me feel warm, which is a good thing to feel when recovering from an ailment.

Another film that I’ve seen countless times is the original Spider-Man directed by Sam Raimi and released in 2002. My family used to have an old television with a built in VHS player, and I remember putting on Spider-Man and plopping myself down in front of that television for multiple days in a row one summer. It’s another film that holds up very well, and like The Lion King, it’s a nostalgic film for me. Because it’s so familiar, even though it’s so exciting and even scary at times (growing up I’ve learned of Sam Raimi’s background as a horror director before Spider-Man, and I see that he always squeezes in a couple of horror-esque scenes into his Spider-Man movies), I don’t think I’d be overwhelmed or taken out of a state of ease if I were to watch it while sick.

So, very familiar films are good candidates to watch if I’m under the weather. Another option is something lighthearted and goofy. I love a good over-the-top, even edgy comedy, so something in that genre would probably feel good to watch. I’m thinking of something that has very little real stakes or dramatic depth. One of my favorites is Superbad. It’s just so knowingly stupid and funny. It’s comprised of nonstop goofiness as the incompetent high school protagonists try to get alcohol for an end of the year party. The dialogue is so ridiculous in that film, and the cast is stacked with comedy greats. Something like Superbad would definitely put me in a good mood.

In a totally different direction, a sick day film could also be one that causes sleep. Sometimes, it’s hard to fall asleep when under the weather. A film can help with that. This doesn’t necessarily mean that the film is bad or boring, though maybe a boring film can do the trick. It just means that the film creates a sense of comfort and coziness. The film feels like a warm blanket. If I were to fall asleep while watching, I would have pleasant dreams. My mind again goes to the Disney films I’ve enjoyed in my childhood. Holiday films tend to feel warm, too, but I don’t usually watch them outside of holiday season. I think a nice romance film could also work. I’ve discussed When Harry Met Sally…, and I think that’s a great film that isn’t too heavy and that can make me feel warm and fuzzy.

Would I do as I did with Gladiator and watch a film I’ve never seen before while under the weather? I suppose it depends on exactly how I’m feeling. A new film could lift my spirits, especially if it’s satisfying. But, it could also be too much to handle. Also, I won’t know exactly what to expect. Furthermore, I’d rather not have my first watch of something be affected by any ailment I’m recovering from.

I was contemplating if “bad” films are something I could watch when sick. This category needs to be clarified. There are “bad” films that understand they are ridiculous and therefore allow the viewers to be in on the joke. A classic example is Snakes on a Plane. I saw it once when I was bored, and I do not regret it at all. It understood what it was, and it mostly accomplished what it set out to do. I even see myself watching it again one day. Would I watch it while under the weather? Probably not, because it might be a little over-stimulating. Yet, I think something in this category could work.

However, there are films that are just lazily or poorly made. Even if I just needed something to keep my attention as I waited for the time to take my next dose of medicine, I don’t think I can watch a film like that. I’d be too annoyed.

Those are all just some of my ramblings and musings. I hope that was an overall fun discussion! Again, please feel free to share your thoughts. I would love to read them! And, truly, I wish all of you comfort and great healthy! May you all have only healthy days ahead!

Share

Subscribe now

My brother brought my attention to a film from last year, The Mastermind. It stars Josh O’Connor, an actor we both like and who was incredible in Wake Up Dead Man that we just watched. My brother told me it was about an art thief. We watched it this week, and it was unlike any heist film I’d seen before. It strikes a really precise tone of irony and even dark humor as it tells the story of a mediocre man who thinks he can pull off a heist.

The Mastermind (written and directed by Kelly Reichardt) opens in a way that establishes the style and tone of the film. A family of four is at a small art museum. The mother, Terri (Alana Haim), is with her sons Carl (Sterling Thompson) and Tommy (Jasper Thompson) while the father, J.B. (Josh O’Connor), is keeping to himself a few feet away. The scene is rather quiet, and the camera moves steadily and slowly. Then, a high tempo jazz score begins while J.B. opens a display case and pockets a palm-sized figure from an art display. The score, which is composed by Rob Mazurek and is incredible throughout the film, continues as the family leaves the museum and the camera cuts to various people going about their day outside in the suburban town where the museum is located and where the family lives. What I like about this opening is that it immediately reveals that this film is about J.B. acting in a way that is both self-centered and that breaks outside of the suburban lifestyle of his family. The score highlights when J.B. is breaking out of laws and norms, and this score becomes ironic when J.B.’s actions become more and more ill-conceived.

The scenes following the credits illustrate more about J.B.‘s life. He periodically visits his parents with his wife and children to have dinner, during which time his father Judge Mooney (Bill Camp) prods J.B. for not having a job. He also plans a robbery of the museum from which he pocketed the figure earlier with accomplices he hosts in his basement. He explains to his wife that these two, Guy (Eli Gelb) and Larry (Cole Doman), are just friends. Later, J.B. meets with his mother Sarah (Hope Davis) and asks to borrow money, lying about being hired for a handyman job and needing to rent space and tools. What he really needs this money for is to pay his accomplices. These scenes further emphasis how the mundane aspects of suburban life are woven into the fabric of J.B.’s life, so much so that they brush against his scheming. In addition, the juxtaposition of his planning and the everyday aspects of his life give his heist plot a bit of a ridiculous, even pathetic dimension. J.B. comes off as a disaffected man whose family is well off despite his lack of contributions and who’d rather steal paintings than get a job. He’s not a heroic Robin Hood type character by any means. His mediocre qualities are further highlighted by the stark fact that he needs to ask his mother to help pay his accomplices. Reichardt also illustrates J.B.’s pathetic character through visual storytelling, showing him walking around alone in his house in his sweater and underwear and later depicting him getting winded after doing physical tasks. The character work is thorough and organic.

Before getting into spoilers, I want to commend the cast. This is a mostly understated film for especially the first third or so, when J.B. goes about his life while planning the heist. All the actors portray their characters in naturalistic ways, and they convey a lot of through subtle gestures and inflections of voice. For example, J.B.‘s opinion of his father is clear in his tone of voice as he speaks just a couple of sentences to Terri. Indeed, there isn’t much dialogue in this film, and actors convey so much interiority through their facial expressions.

Another amazing thing about this film is the fact that it grounds the central character’s actions in the historical context of the world around him. This film is set in the United States a few years into the Vietnam War, when many people are protesting the war and calling for it to end. These protestors push against and break the law for a just cause. In regards to them, the law is flawed, not their actions. Again, Reichardt does so much through juxtaposition. As suburban life juxtaposes against J.B.‘s quest to show how unimpressive he is and how unnecessary his plan is, the presence of the anti-war protesters shows how selfish and morally hollow J.B. is. When he goes against the law, he does so for his own selfish ends.

Also, I mentioned the tone of the film earlier, describing how it balances irony and dark humor. As the film progresses, the tone expands to include genuinely laugh out loud moments. These hilarious scenes would be considered understated in other films, but here they land harder because of how well they deviate from the film’s established tone. Throughout, Reichardt shows incredible command of her film. Every moment, every shot, feels calculated to achieve its intended impact.

I’m now veering into spoilers. Feel free to skip to the final paragraph if you don’t want to read any details from later parts of the movie before watching it!

As one might expect considering how out of his depth J.B. is, the heist doesn’t go very well. No one catches Guy and Ronnie (Javion Allen), J.B.’s final accomplice, as they take the paintings. And no one catches J.B. as he drives them all away. But they do the crime in broad daylight in front of many witnesses. The sequence itself is so funny for how sloppy the thieves are. What follows is J.B. doing his mediocre best to hide his crime from his family and also to avoid the attention of police officers. He makes a poorly thought out decision that requires him to commit another crime when he hides the stolen paintings in a barn but gets his clothes muddy and decides to steal from a neighbor’s clothesline. If only he had brought a change of clothes, then he wouldn’t have had to steal again. Indeed, a funny cycle propels the rest of the film, as one dumb decision from J.B. leads to another dumb decision. The unfolding of the plot further reveals how pathetic J.B. is. Balanced with this is a newer sense of sadness. J.B. deserves what’s coming to him, but his actions upend the lives of Terri, Carl, and Tommy. Seeing the emotional pain and they endure, we as viewers detest J.B. even more, and the film finds a new angle through which to condemn him.

Furthermore, the political and social context of the film that has been surrounding J.B. now becomes more immediate to his person. While earlier, he was insulated from major difficulty because of the suburban environment he lived in, now that he’s on the run from law enforcement officers, he comes into contact with the anti-war protestors who are vulnerable to similar violence by the police. The earlier juxtaposition becomes even more intense, and J.B. once again comes across as morally detestable because his selfish actions have brought him to his situation in which the police represent a threat to him. In contrast, the protestors are acting for a noble cause.

This film is a great character study about a man’s hubris and high opinion of himself leading to his downfall. My major complaint of the film is that, during the scenes in which J.B. is avoiding arrest, the pace becomes really slow for me. The pace is already very steady in the earlier scenes, but those scene feel fine to me. My brother explained that the slow pace is meant to reflect the tedium of J.B.’s day to day as hides from arrest. I understand what he means, and I agree that this decision fits with the film’s naturalistic elements. However, on a purely subjective level, I enjoyed the later scenes less than the earlier scenes because of the slower pace.

Overall, though, the slower pace in the final third is my only issue. This is an excellent film that is meticulously constructed and that balances a precise tone while grappling with compelling themes. The cast is great. Reichardt is a great director. I cannot wait to explore her filmography and to see her future films!

Share

Subscribe now

During January 2025, I lamented the fact that I did not watch enough new films in 2024 to make a top ten list for that year that I could feel content with. I therefore tried to make sure that I wouldn’t end up in a similar situation once January 2026 rolled around. I’m grateful and happy to say that I think I succeeded! I watched quite a few new movies the past year. Several weren’t as great as I wanted them to be, but that always happens. Some that I was looking forward to ended up being incredible, and it’s always a nice feeling when something anticipated lives up to the excitement. There were a few films that also truly surprised me. I hadn’t heard much about them, or I saw trailers and didn’t expect much, but ended up quite happy with my viewing experiences.

One thing that does bother me a little is that so many films that studios think will be critically acclaimed are scheduled for the very end of the year. I understand that the reason for this is so that critics and voters have the films fresh in their minds when the awards ceremonies happen. But, it’s tricky to squeeze in films sometimes during the holiday season. I wish some had come out earlier so that I might have included them on my list, but I will still try to watch the ones that I missed at the end of 2025 during the first few months of this year.

All of the films on my list are films that I’ve discussed individually here!

Also, before I dive in, I just want to say that this is a deeply personal and subjective list. It is totally based off of my tastes. This is a fun little thing to think about, a personal ranking. Plus, my friends and I shared our lists and had a blast doing so! I invite readers to share their lists of their favorite films from 2025, too!

Before I get into my top ten, there are a few honorable mentions. I’ll rank them from three to one.

The third honorable mention is One Battle After Another. Parts of this film really bothered me. I didn’t like how Perfidia was rendered as an absurd caricature. I also didn’t like how the only manifestation of white supremacy that was depicted and challenged in the film was an over-the-top cartoonish type. This film had so many amazing sequences though, and so many great performances. Chase Infiniti and Benicio del Toro in particular were incredible. I think this film was a draft away from being a masterpiece. There were ways to fix its script while still keeping the plot and significant sequences largely intact. As it is now, I think its strengths outweigh its weaknesses, and I commend its great features.

The second honorable mention is F1. My main issue with this film is that it’s plot is predictable. Other than that, it’s a blast. The acting is solid. The score is great. The cars and the sets are stylish. The direction is phenomenal. I also became more interested in the sport of Formula 1 thanks to this film. Overall, it’s a highly entertaining sports action film.

The first honorable mention is The Naked Gun. This one really surprised me. Some of the jokes from this film will never leave my brain. I also appreciated its takedown of destructive expressions of masculinity, including self-centered and egotistical tech bros. This film was funny and thoughtful.

Now, on to my top ten!

Number Ten is Companion. This surprised me, too. This film has such a great command of tone, effortlessly blending thriller with dark comedy and sci-fi parable. It has important ideas about autonomy and gender roles, and it navigates these ideas compellingly. The cast is great, and Sophie Thatcher in particular is excellent as the lead.

Number Nine is Train Dreams. This is such a beautiful and heartfelt portrait of one person and the world around him. The direction is gorgeous, and the whole cast gives incredible performances. The natural world is so integral to this story, and it feels to real and vibrant thanks to the filmmakers.

Number Eight is Frankenstein. This was one of my most anticipated films. After all, one of my favorite directors, Guillermo del Toro, was adapting one of my favorite novels. When I first saw it, I was a little let down by how different it was from Mary Shelley’s masterpiece of a novel. However, my second viewing made me appreciate the film’s themes of what constitute good and evil and its meditations on the relationships between fathers and sons. The production is phenomenal, as is to be expected in a film by del Toro, and Jacob Elordi surprised the heck out of me as the Creature. This is del Toro’s spin on Shelley’s classic, and it’s great.

Number Seven is 28 Years Later. Legacy sequels could either rely too heavily on nostalgia or can add something really rich and fascinating to the original story. This film does the latter. It is such a thoughtful and heartbreaking movie. It has a lot to say about humanity and society, and it builds upon the the very first biohazard apocalypse film that director Danny Boyle and writer Alex Garland made together in powerful ways. My eyes were wet with tears from the climax.

Number Six is Wake Up Dead Man. I hope Rian Johnson keeps making murder mysteries featuring detective Benoit Blanc because I’ve loved all of them. This one has a very twisty and surprising plot, and I especially love this film’s complex and heartfelt meditations on faith.

Number Five is KPop Demon Hunters. This film is such a great time, with amazing visuals, exciting action sequences, a set of powerful message on acceptance and overcoming shame, and phenomenal songs. It has everything I want from an animated musical and more. I can’t wait for what directors Maggie Kang and Chris Appelhans do next.

Number Four is Weapons. This is such an original horror film with a very cool structure and amazing direction. I admire how particular and distinct its atmosphere and mood are. It combines small town paranoia and devastating grief with spooky investigations and brutal, gory violence. This is the second horror film by Zach Cregger, and he demonstrates that he has a distinct voice in this genre. I can see myself watching this many times during future spooky seasons.

Number Three is Superman. I adore how this film valorizes compassion and selflessness. It honors the classic character while still exploring new dimensions to him, his allies, and his enemies. The action scenes are amazing. I love the whole cast with David Corenswet, Rachel Brosnahan, and Nicholas Hoult shining as the iconic Clark Kent, Lois Lane, and Lex Luthor. I also admire how the film has a timeless quality because of how well it renders its central characters as well as a vital timeliness, with its plot elements and themes echoing the current real life genocide of Palestinians by Israel. Superhero stories have always been vehicles for political messages, and this movie fits within that tradition. James Gunn has shown a real knack for making great superhero movies.

Number Two is The Voice of Hind Rajab. This gut-wrenching, heartbreaking film depicts the murder of five-year-old Hind Rajab, six members of her family, and two paramedics trying to rescue her at the hands of the Israel Occupation Forces. This was one of the most well documented war crimes during the ongoing genocide of Palestinians by Israel. Told from the perspective of the Palestinian Red Crescent Society workers trying to save Hind, the film carries a horrible sense of helplessness and depicts the impossible situations Palestinians face every day under Israeli apartheid. It’s a well made film that blurs documentary and recreation to powerful effect by using real audio of the phone calls Hind and her cousin Layan made to the Red Crescent. Kaouther Ben Hania has made such a vital film, and I hope more film viewers watch this.

Number One is Sinners. Ryan Coogler is a genius. This film is so good in so many ways. It’s a powerful snapshot of early twentieth century America that celebrates Black art while condemning the ways in which white supremacy and racist violence limit what Black people are able to do. It has a phenomenal cast and amazing sets and costumes. Also, it’s sort of a musical, with amazing blues songs, and it’s definitely a bloody fun vampire movie. This movie understands how genre elements can powerfully comment on contemporary realities, and it’s brilliantly shot and lovingly rendered. I can see myself watching this movie again and again. I saw it at a late night screening on my second watch so I could behold the 70mm IMAX scenes, and I had an amazing time. I will be there on day one for Ryan Coogler’s next film. He is one of my favorite filmmakers.

That’s my list! Thank you for reading this and for reading my various discussions throughout the past years. I hope to continue to discuss films in 2026! I wish everyone a wonderful, amazing New Year!

Share

Subscribe now

I wanted to squeeze in one more discussion before the year was up. Train Dreams was on my “To Watch” list for a while; as soon as I heard it was releasing this year, I knew I had to watch it. My interest came from the fact that I had heard excellent things about the novella Train Dreams by Denis Johnson, which serves as the movie’s basis. The novella had been on my “To Read” list for years. Now was the time, I decided. I read the novella a few months ago and loved it. I saw the film adaptation a few days ago with my brother and adored it, too. He loved it as well. The film directly features major elements of the book while repurposing certain characters and details as well as shifting the emphasis to different areas. The film is a solid companion to the novella.

The very first shots of Train Dreams (directed by Clint Bentley, screenplay by Bentley & Greg Kwedar, based on the novella by Denis Johnson) are gorgeous. They include human changes to nature, but nature still maintains its grandeur. We see train tracks inside a cave that the camera follows and glides over as the camera moves toward the sunlit opening of the cave. We see boots nailed to the trunk of a tree. We see a tree fall as the camera is fixed to the trunk and aimed skyward. These shots are awe-inspiring and quickly introduce a major motif of the film: human beings’ interactions with the natural world. As the film progresses, humans reshape the world around them in many ways, but are still beholden to nature. The relationship isn’t one of domination; it is one of dependency.

A bold choice by Bentley and Kwedar is to include voice over in the film by an omniscient narrator. The narration is delivered so well by Will Patton. My brother experienced both the written version and the audiobook of the novella, and he pointed out that the audiobook is read by Will Patton. It’s so cool that he’s featured in the film, too. What’s also cool is that his narration occasionally takes direct lines from the book, but is mostly original. Bentley and Kwedar’s screenplay doesn’t try to mimic the style of Johnson’s prose but instead conveys its own type of rich, poetic language. The reason a voice over is risky is because it can feel contrived or unnecessary. In this film, the voice over quickly conveys important information, especially across jumps in time and location, but occasionally feels redundant when the narration describes what is happening on screen or explains something that might have been more subtly suggested through visuals alone. I don’t necessarily mind bluntness or directness; this approach does sometimes give the film the feeling of a parable or spoken story. There were just a few instances during which the narration didn’t seem necessary, though. Overall, this is just a small nitpick.

The central plot of the film is essentially the life story of Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton). He lives for about eighty years, from the late 1800s to the 1960s, and he spends much of his life in Idaho. To make a living, he takes physical labor-intensive jobs in areas north and northeast of where he lives. These jobs include logging and railroad construction. When he becomes older and realizes that very physically demanding work isn’t for him anymore, he does odd jobs around the town. Edgerton is fantastic as the central character. He conveys so much feeling, even in scenes without dialogue. The wide range of emotions that Grainier experiences as he faces different life events all feel true thanks to Edgerton’s incredible performance.

A major message of the film is that Robert Grainier’s humble life is significant because of all the people he meets and impacts. Some of these relationships last for just hours or months; some last for years. The cast members who portray the characters around Robert are phenomenal, too. Felicity Jones is amazing as Gladys, Robert’s wife. The relationship between the two characters feels so natural. The actors have a great dynamic and convey immense depths of feeling. Jones expresses warmth, love, and trust, as well as sadness for when Robert has to leave for months because of work. She’s also resourceful and determined as she helps to make plans for the future and raises the livestock that the family has at their little cabin in the woods away from the bustle of the town. Truly, the love story between Gladys and Robert touched my heart. Their scones with their young daughter Kate are so tender.

The rest of the supporting cast members include Nathaniel Arcand, who is great as Ignatius Jack, one of Robert’s friends. Arcand conveys his character’s kindness and care for Robert when Robert is undergoing immense difficulty. William H. Macy gives an excellent performance as Arn Peeples, a thoughtful man and a demolition expert whom Robert spends time with on more than one logging job. Kerry Condon is the curious and appreciative Claire Thompson, a worker for the United States Forest Service. Both Arn and Claire at separate times share with Robert a worldview about the interconnected nature of all things. Arn speaks from a more spiritual and religious perspective while Claire speaks from a more scientific one. I really like this parallel; it emphasizes the theme of the film in a way that feels authentic and not out of place.

I mentioned how amazing the opening shots of the film are. I applaud the cinematography throughout. Cinematographer Adolpho Veloso does amazing work here, using a variety of techniques to convey the emotional dimensions of the different scenes. Wide shots of the natural landscape convey Robert’s awe at the world around him and fill viewers with that same wonder. Many of the scenes at Robert’s and Gladys’s home are shot with handheld cameras, giving these moments the natural and intimate feelings of home videos. Overall, this is a visually beautiful film.

The score is excellent too, complementing the emotional registers of the different scenes, too. When I learned that Bryce Dessner was doing the musical score for Train Dreams, my excitement for my viewing grew significantly. Dessner is a member of one of my favorite bands ever, The National. His work here is so good. The score feels like a unified audio tapestry even while it moves to different moods, from majestic to excited to somber. I haven’t encountered much of Dessner’s work in film scores before, and after Train Dreams, I’m really excited for what he does next.

I feel the same about Bentley and Kwedar. This is a shining adaptation because it uses the visual medium to convey some of the same themes and emotions as the book while also allowing the opportunities of this format to add a particular spin on the story. This adaptation both honors the source material and is assured enough to chart some of its own path. The novella and film are both about a single person’s life and all the people he touches, yet this film uses montage and incredible nature shots to expand the scope of this life, suggesting that the global and the individual are deeply intertwined. The visuals, which also involve scenes that to my eye appear to be shot in natural light of dusk and dawn, beautifully complement the rich dialogue, including the meditations on interconnectedness I described earlier. It’s a short film, fitting as an adaptation of the novella, and yet it feels so expansive.

I also appreciate how the film contextualizes Robert’s life within the country he lives in. This film doesn’t portray a rosy picture of America; it grapples with racist violence and economic hardship. Shallow and outdated ideas about national character or essence are ignored. The film instead valorizes people who try to live decent lives by being kind to each other and helping out when help is needed. A country is its people, all of its people, and I admire how Train Dreams celebrates the goodness that people are capable of without ignoring the terrible actions people do. The good outweighs the evil in this film, which is fitting for its overall message and thematic interests.

It’s fitting that I’m discussing this film on New Year’s Eve. This time of year weighs heavily on me. I don’t want it to, but this day makes me feel more acutely the passage of time. Train Dreams confronts the passage of time, too, and it asserts that the relationships we form in this life with people and the natural world are what give our lives significance. It’s a beautiful message that I agree with and that I’m grateful to be reminded of now.

There is so much more I could talk about, but I want to avoid spoilers. I highly recommend this amazing film.

Share

Subscribe now

The series of murder mysteries that began with Rian Johnson’s 2019 film Knives Out has been a delight so far. I adore the original film that introduced audiences to the quirky, brilliant detective Benoit Blanc, played with endless charisma by Daniel Craig. The first installment also set the pattern for the series going forward: a massive cast of intriguing characters, a twisty plot that revolves around a single location, and sharp political commentary. The second film in the series, Glass Onion, skewered egotistical tech oligarchs before doing so become more common in major Hollywood films (an example of which is the hilarious film from earlier this year The Naked Gun, which had the head of a massive tech company serve as the film’s villain). Both Knives Out and Glass Onion are excellent films, and though I hesitate to pick a favorite, there is a particular reason why the third and most recent installment, Wake Up Dead Man (written and directed by Rian Johnson), resonates with me. The third film has a sharp political commentary in its condemnation of right wing religious institutions and ideologies, but its commentary also includes a thoughtful meditation on the purposes of faith and religion.

At the center of Wake Up Dead Man is the ideological conflict between two clergymen: Father Jud (Josh O’Connor) and Monsignor Wicks (Josh Brolin). Jud is a younger priest who thinks the church should be open and welcoming to all. He has a tragic, troubled past, and he finds solace in his faith; he hopes to spread this solace to members of the congregation when he is assigned to work at Wicks’s church. Wicks is the complete opposite of Jud in so many ways. For one, he is self-serving. He uses his position as a way to fuel is own ego and bolster his influence in the community. Secondly, his view of faith is exclusionary and premised on antagonism and retribution. When Wicks preaches about Christ’s suffering, he doesn’t preach about sacrifice, love, or redemption. Instead, he makes a false parallel between Christ’s suffering and the supposed persecution that the church faces. Of course, no such persecution exists in a significant way. What’s really happening is that the world is changing, and that the changes mean that people like Wicks will no longer hold all the power anymore.

Through Wicks, the film sharply critiques the real world movement of Christian nationalism, which has sadly become a major feature of right wing politics in the United States in recent years. Christian nationalism asserts that the United States is a country for Christians, and it defines “Christian” in a particular and narrow sense to include proponents of white supremacy and patriarchy; everyone who isn’t Christian under this ideology’s definition is to be subjected to state violence. Though this ideology isn’t directly named in Wake Up Dead Man, Wicks would clearly be a proponent of this ideology due to his persecution complex, his sermons on retribution, and his exclusionary ideology that creates a cult-like following amongst the few regular churchgoers in his community. Wicks is also a misogynist and his revealed to be a hypocrite in more ways than one as the film progresses.

When Wicks is killed and Jud becomes the primary suspect, the ideological conflict between the two shifts to the realm of life and death.

The churchgoers are also suspects, and the entire cast is incredible. Before discussing the regular members of the congregation, I want to emphasize how good Josh O’Connor and Josh Brolin are in their roles. O’Connor plays Jud as a young man with so much weight on his shoulders: the weight of his past, the weight of his responsibility, and the weight of his impending doom should the murder investigation resolve in a certain way. He also carries himself with warmth and empathy, and he constantly strives to do what he thinks is best. O’Connor makes Jud’s numerous conflicts palpable. Brolin plays Wicks as a cocky, self-assured man who unravels and lashes out in aggression whenever his facade crumbles or he risks losing something. He projects power while being weak within.

The members of the congregation include Vera Draven, a lawyer who stays due to a sense of loyalty to her late father. Kerry Washington plays Vera as a pressure valve; unlike Brolin’s portrayal of Wicks, Washington has Vera suppress her rage and resentment due to what the character believes is a greater purpose. When she does erupt, she does so out of righteous indignation, not due to a feeble ego such as Wicks’s. Vera has an adopted son, Cy, who is a failed Republican politician. Daryl McCormack plays Cy as such a smarmy, self-serving schemer who films everything for his self-promotional YouTube channel and who will do anything to get ahead. Through Cy, the film further develops the connection between exclusionary religious institutions and right wing politics.

Additional members of the congregation include the has-been writer Lee Ross. Andrew Scott plays Ross with such a perfect blend of desperation and paranoia. There is also Simone Vivane, a skilled cellist who can no longer play due to a terrible and sudden injury. Cailee Spaeny plays Simone with such a tangible sense of pain and dwindling hope.

There are even more supporting characters, and I just want to highlight two more. The various affairs of Wicks’s church are kept in order by Martha, who files everything and works as a type of manager. Glenn Close is superb, playing Martha with an alarming devotion and zealotry. Martha isn’t scary or threatening, but she’s clearly misguided. The physical church itself is maintained by Samson the groundskeeper, played by Thomas Haden Church. Samson is the least troubled and most kindhearted member of the community around the church.

Daniel Craig is of course excellent as Blanc, bringing back the familiar features of the character while also showing new layers and depths. One of my favorite aspects of Blanc is how I can never be fully sure of what he’s thinking. Though he’s personable and fun to follow, he is also often an enigma. When he finally does reveal his cards, the result is deeply satisfying.

The mystery plot is very well constructed. It’s incredibly twisty, and I kept guessing until the very end. I tried to predict the reveals and the truths behind the film’s events, which escalate in intrigue and intensity. The murder of Wicks is just the start; the film goes places. I was wrong in pretty much all of my predictions, and I love when this happens as I follow a murder mystery. I don’t want to figure it out before the story concludes. The ending of this film is both surprising and satisfying.

The direction is somewhat understated, and I think this is by design. Often, clues are hiding in plain sight. I think, in order to not draw attention to certain details and risk giving things away, Johnson constructs most scenes without excessive style or flourish. This approach works because it lets the plot and characters come through in a stronger way. Johnson does do a great job of allowing certain scenes to be shifted by a character’s feelings; this creates variation without revealing anything because the scenes are clearly subjective and therefore not necessarily reliable in the mystery plot.

The setting is very interesting. Most of the film takes place in and around Wicks’s church, which is located in a small town. The setting comes across as both warm and threatening depending on the mood in the plot at that time. The architecture of the church is both imposing and inspiring, the nearby buildings are both cozy and shadowy, and the town streets slide from idyllic to mysterious. The setting serves the story very well.

The film would be a great film if it just critiqued religious rigidity and zealotry. However, Blanc emerges as a distinct point in the ideological battle between the clergymen. Blanc is a skeptic who sees religion as largely useless. Through his encounter with Jud, the film meditates on the uses of religion and faith in a complex way. Faith is knotty, potentially harmful, but also potentially vital. Faith is shown to be useful in a humanistic way. There are some scenes involving rites and prayers that show these practices to be hollow, and there are some that feature these very acts and that don’t feel sentimental or cliche; they feel soulful and human.

Ultimately, the film suggests that faith can work as an expression of human goodness, as an extension of hope and care and mercy.

I love this film. I’m so happy that Rian Johnson makes these movies. I hope there’s a fourth installment.

Share

Subscribe now

On January 29, 2024, Hind Rajab, a five-year-old girl from Palestine, was attempting to evacuate Gaza City with her uncle Bashar Hamada, her 15-year-old cousin Layan, and four of their family members. Their car was shot by a tank from the Israel Occupation Forces (IOF). Everyone was killed except for Hind and Layan. Layan reached out to the Palestine Red Crescent Society (PRCS). Omar al-Qam was the dispatcher for the PRCS who connected with Layan by phone. During their call, Layan was shot and killed by the IOF soldiers. When the PRCS called back, Hind answered. She was the only survivor now, trapped in a bullet-riddled car with the bodies of her killed family members. She pleaded for help, full of fear and pain. For several hours, dispatchers and workers at the PRCS including Omar, dispatcher Rana Faqih, mental health and psychosocial support worker Nisreen Qawas, and Mahdi Aljamal tried to keep contact with Hind and console her as they also tried to coordinate safe passage for an ambulance to reach Hind. The workers of the PRCS took turns talking with Hind as she tried to hide from the IOF soldiers. The closest ambulance was only eight minutes away, but the coordination and approval of safe passage took hours. The PRCS needed to receive approval from the Coordinator of Government Activities in the Territories (COGAT), an Israeli government agency, so that the IOF would not shoot at the ambulance. When COGAT sent an approved route, the PRCS sent paramedics Yousef Zaïno and Ahmed al-Madhoun in an ambulance to reach Hind. When Zaïno and al-Madhoun were meters away from Hind, and as they were speaking with the PRCS workers, they were shot and killed by the IOF soldiers. Contact with Hind was lost not long after. Twelve days later, the bodies of Hind Rajab, Layan Hamada, their family members in the car, and the bodies of Zaïno and al-Madhoun were discovered.

On January 29 and in the days following, the PRCS recorded and uploaded to the Internet audio recordings of the calls with Hind Rajab and photos of her, Zaïno, and al-Madhoun as a call for help. A thorough investigation was conducted by numerous organizations and determined the facts summarized above. This atrocity, the killing of Hind Rajab, her family members, and paramedics Zaïno and al-Madhoun by IOF soldiers, is among the most well-documented in Israel’s apartheid and genocide of Palestinians, a genocide that is still ongoing. There are thousands of innocent people who have met similar fates as Hind Rajab, and there will be more unless the apartheid and genocide end.

The film The Voice of Hind Rajab, written and directed by Kaouther Ben Hania, is a dramatization of the events of January, 29, 2024, through the perspective of the workers at the PRCS who are contacted by Layan Hamada and Hind Rajab and who desperately tried to send help. The film premiered this week in the United States, and I’m grateful I attended a packed screening with my brother, a screening that concluded with an in-person conversation between Ben Hania and journalist Ayman Mohyeldin. The film is relentless, harrowing, and expertly made. I appreciate how Ben Hania shared her insights into how she approached the making of her film.

The camera work in the film is amazing, with long takes and tracking shots through the dispatch center to increase the sense of real-time urgency in the film. The performances by the cast members, including Motaz Malhees as Omar, Saja Kilani as Rana, Clara Khoury as Nisreen, and Amer Hlehel as Mahdi, are incredible. They bring the desperation, anger, grief, and pain that their real life counterparts experienced to film viewers. I felt as if I was watching real people; the performances felt so life-like. The film’s scope adhering to one location, the dispatch center, adds to the feeling of being trapped. The PRCS workers can’t do anything except try to help over the phone.

In a brilliant, heart-shattering directorial decision, Ben Hania uses the real audio recordings of the calls between the PRCS workers and Layan and Hind. I knew this fact about the film’s design walking into the auditorium, but I still felt my heart sink when the film cut to a visual representation of audio, with the file name on the top right corner, and text appeared on the screen stating that all voices on the telephone are real. Through its construction, including the use of Layan’s and Hind’s real voices, the film centers the real life people whose lives were unjustly cut short. This film forces viewers to contend with the reality of the atrocious killings, which are among many atrocities committed by Israel against Palestinians. This isn’t just a recreation, it’s a document.

In her post-viewing conversation, Ben Hania explained that she considered making a documentary about the killing of Hind Rajab, her family, and the paramedics who attempted to save her. Ben Hania has made documentaries in the past, but she decided on a narrative film because she said that a film is a better path for emotion and empathy. I agree, and I also think that the use of the real audio allows this movie to still have the force of documentary. There are additional instances of the blurring between representation and document, such as the moments when the audio of the real life PRCS workers are presented and the actors do not recreate the words that their real life counterparts spoke on that day. There is also a moment in which footage recorded at the dispatch center on that day appears in a phone recording in the film, showing the real life workers. This blurring constantly reminds viewers of the real atrocity and the real people who suffered and who tried to help.

Furthermore, Ben Hania explained that the framing of the film being bound to the workers at the PRCS allows the film to represent the analogous experiences of people around the world who have been seeing video and hearing audio of Israel’s genocide of Palestinians. Just as the PRCS workers witness the atrocity and ultimately cannot stop the killings, so too have people around the world watched in horror and with the same feelings of helplessness.

We as viewers know how the film ends. Hind Rajab’s death has become a microcosm in global onlookers’ eyes for the genocide of the Palestinians by Israel, and Hind has become a symbol for chidren killed during occupation. As one illustration of this fact, activists at Columbia University took over and renamed a building Hind’s Hall as an act of protest against the university’s complicity in the genocide. The film is so skillfully made, though, that we viewers feel what the people on screen feel, as they weep in despair, feel fear when connection with Hind is lost, hope for her rescue when they hear her voice again, and rage against the cruelty of the IOF and the apartheid regime.

In the theater, I cried and heard fellow audience members cry, too. The moment in particular that first broke me was when Rana recites to Hind the Surah Al-Fatihah, the opening chapter of the Qur’an, and Hind repeats the chapter back to Rana. Rana does this to console Hind. Yet, Surah Al-Fatihah is also often recited for the deceased or those who are about to die. Consoling someone who is about to die is both so futile and necessary; it is therefore among the most human acts. The fact that Rana needed to console young, innocent Hind made this human act bitterly painful and rage inducing. Rana shouldn’t have had to do this. Hind, Layan, their family, Zaïno, and al-Madhoun should still be alive today.

I also reflected, while watching, about the barbarity of the coordination system that the PRCS workers had to abide by. In the film, Omar rages against Mahdi to break the rules and to dispatch an ambulance without waiting for approval. Every minute wasted brings Hind closer to being killed, he argues. The ambulance is also only eight minutes away, he urges. Mahdi points to a poster of all the paramedics who have been killed while trying to save people and says he cannot lose more colleagues. While watching, I knew that this system of asking for permission to send help is deliberately designed to ruin the lives of the Palestinian people. It is no accident, I am convinced, that approval takes hours. The vile truth of the situation turns out to be that, even when the PRCS workers follow all the rules and wait hours for approval from Israel’s occupying forces, paramedics Zaïno and al-Madhoun are still killed by those very same occupiers.

Ben Hania explained in her conversation that, through the conflict between Omar and Mahdi, she wanted to shed light on the painful realities of living under apartheid. Because of how an apartheid regime places restrictions on the subjugated people, the people who have their lives restricted respond to the restrictions differently, and conflicts emerge. One can sympathize with Omar’s insistence that the rules must be broken because they are unjust. One can also sympathize with Mahdi’s belief that following the rules prevents unnecessary death. Ultimately, though, under apartheid, the dominating power decides whether or not the subjugated people live or die, as the atrocity of January 29 shows.

This is a vital film that depicts an atrocity without being exploitative. The Voice of Hind Rajab conveys the larger context of a heinous war crime while also weeping for the unjustly killed and positioning itself alongside people who work to save the innocent. It is a document and condemnation of Israel’s brutality against Palestinians and a plea for humanity.

On posters of the film, there are links to donate to the Palestine Red Crescent Society. I will include an embedded link to donate here.

I will end this discussion with Ben Hania’s final main point in her talk with Mohyeldin. In regards to a call to action, Ben Hania said that everyone has various things they are good at. Everyone has certain skills and abilities. She urged us in the audience to use our skills and to do what we do best in service of just causes. I share that call to action with readers here.

We must do everything in our power to make the world better, to make a world in which Palestine is free and Palestinians have safety and justice. We must do what we do best, and we must not give up.

Palestine must be free.

Share

Subscribe now