Film Reviews
If you’ve ever wondered what inclusive cinema looks like, you should watch Becoming Bulletproof. Michael Barnett’s documentary captures the filming of a Western, called “Bulletproof,” starring performers with different abilities. Among the cast are people who struggle with impediments to speech and mobility, and working with their different needs creates an unique atmosphere behind the scenes.
The old is boring and the new is exciting; right or wrong, that’s just how our brains our wired. So when something is in danger of becoming not just old but extinct, it’s only natural that they would seek to extend their longevity by latching onto something new. We could be witnessing an extinction event for one such aging institution, the daily newspaper.
Theeb is an excellent film from this past year, and I’m afraid the precious few people will make it out to see it due to the lack of distribution. Had it not been nominated for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar this year, I probably would have never come across this little gem. Theeb is set in 1916 toward the end of the Ottoman Empire, in a province known as Hijaz (around Saudi Arabia and Medina) where two brothers, who hail from a family nomads, escort a British soldier with a mysterious wooden box to the Ottomon railway.
For a horror sub-genre that is frequently criticised for misogynist overtones, it is surprising how many gothic filmmakers haven’t combined the LGBT themes inherent in horror with the rampant violence of slasher film more frequently before. You’re Killing Me is a horror-comedy that puts the emphasis on the comedic elements, its many detours into slasher film never feeling either shocking or as amusing as the film around them. But it is unique for a film in this sub-genre to remove any subtext about societal fears among gay people in contemporary society and just make a straightforward horror-comedy with no deeper thematic resonance.
I’m going to be honest and admit that 15 minutes into this film I didn’t want to watch any more. Which is strange, because usually I’m a glutton for punishment when it comes to films I don’t necessarily enjoy. I’ll quite happily sit through to the end, hoping for a change in direction or a ‘bigger picture’ reveal.
Iceland is slowly becoming one of the planet’s leading cinematic nations, with many directors realising that the country’s desolate landscape is the perfect fit for sci-fi. Christopher Nolan and Ridley Scott have both shot there recently, whereas the upcoming Rogue One: A Star Wars Story was filming there last autumn.
It is always nice to visit the short films that people work so hard on but you never really think about viewing. It is not until the Oscars that these films get any mainstream attention, and that is one of the best things the Oscars provides to filmmakers. This year’s nominees are strong, featuring sad bears, old men who desperately want hand-drawn animation to survive, clumsy cosmonauts, Hindu superheroes, and some brilliant sci-fi.
A remake of the 1969 Italian-French film La Piscine and partly inspired by David Hockney’s ‘Swimming Pool’ painting, A Bigger Splash is the fourth feature film from Luca Guadagnino, and has already made significant waves with critics and audiences alike (sorry for the absolutely appropriate pun). Starring Tilda Swinton as rockstar Marianne recovering from throat surgery, and Matthias Schoenaerts as her ever-loving albeit boring boyfriend Paul, the two of them aim to escape life to an idyllic Italian island in the middle of the Mediterranean. No phones, no work, no interruptions.
It’s no secret that Sacha Baron Cohen makes comedies that age badly, no matter how well-regarded they are upon their release. His reputation as a satirist with his finger on the pulse of contemporary societal prejudices ensures that days and weeks after initial release they become regarded as documents of America’s unforgivable past. With Grimsby, Cohen makes his first British movie in fourteen years, after his execrable debut Ali G In Da House – and it is the first time his brand of social satire feels not just outdated, but tired prior to release.
Even though he hails from a nation renowned for its take on exploitation cinema, director John Hillcoat has repeatedly proven himself to be far more interested with the archetypes of American genre films. His international breakthrough feature, 2006’s The Proposition, was the perfect marriage of the sensibilities of Ozploitation and the most hard-boiled Westerns; for a country with no major cinema heritage, it suggested Hillcoat was a director who could put his nation firmly on the world cinema map. Instead of continuing this distinctive subversion of genre with his subsequent films, Hillcoat has become increasingly formulaic.
The Coen Brothers have managed to put their own twist on noir, the buddy comedy, crime drama, romantic comedies, westerns, and spy films. They are clearly film historians, so they want to show their love of movies by tackling classic genre films that cannot be sold to modern audiences. How did they manage to do this?
I love Pride & Prejudice and I will never tire of its adaptations and interpretations. I also really like zombie films. I am Pride & Prejudice & Zombies’ demographic.
The most damaging and offensive cliché in films that explore colonialism and its effects on indigenous nations is the notion of the noble savage, as well as the white savior. Approaching this film the inevitable trepidations set in, but were soon quelled, as Embrace of the Serpent proved to be simultaneously intelligent and willfully authentic. Director Ciro Guerra film adheres to territorial formalism without subverting the cultural atmosphere and originality.
There is a moment about halfway through Brooklyn when Saoirse Ronan’s character is shown as a distant speck in a giant field of green grass, as if lost amongst the lush vegetation. The moment comes soon after she has decided to go visit her mother in Ireland after a loss in the family; though not immediately apparent, it foreshadows her soon-to-come inner conflict, which will make her question where she truly belongs. Such a gorgeous and symbolic shot is representative of much of Brooklyn, which is far deeper than its relatively straightforward subject matter would imply.
To try and properly describe The World of Kanako is quite a tough feat. So far I have a mix of the youth-filled slaughter of Battle Royale, the rapid-fire non-linear editing of John Boorman’s Point Blank, and the grittiness of Sam Peckinpah’s Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia, smashed together in a blood soaked blender and left to sit in the sun. The World of Kanako is a brutal, convoluted and pop-culture infused neo-noir which punctures a bandage-wrapped fist in the face of decency in delivering its twisted story.