garethcrook

If you've not watched Opus yet or are about to, hit pause and watch Coda first if you've not already. The documentary gives a really wonderful broad introduction to Sakamoto and his work, before you sit down to appreciate what's happening here. This is a concert film. His final performance before his passing in 2023. He'd not toured or played for years on account of the cancer diagnosis. Opus is the very definition of a defiant last goodbye. Shot in Japan in beautifully crisp black and white. Just him and the piano, it's very intimate. No audience, the viewer gets their own personal concert with the very best seat in the house, often sat right next to Sakamoto. It's beautifully shot, but you can close your eyes and still appreciate Opus. It's the music after all where the magic lies. Watching him play though is a treat. The way he moves, the hand motions as he orchestrates the pianos sustain at the end of a song. Repositioning his glasses or retuning the piano, adding a metallic reverb to the strings. The poignant moments when he takes a break, inaudibly talking to someone off camera as he catches his breath from a cough. Capturing work like this is not easy, but here it seems effortless. It's a beautiful piece of work, lovingly put together by his son Neo Sora. A fitting finale.

8/10.

In the wake of the Fukushima disaster and the tsunami that followed, Ryuichi Sakamoto tracks down a piano that although a little water damaged, survived. "I felt as though I was playing the corpse of a piano that drowned". He's against nuclear, not just weapons, but power. That's not something we hear about much in the U. K., but then we've not had a meltdown on home turf. It may seem like a random start, but it's context and that's what Coda does well, paints a picture of events and influences that Sakamoto draws on. There's plenty of piano here, but the two big topics are his love and admiration of nature and is his cancer diagnosis that's now driving him to continue creating. Be it film scoring or a new record, one that was put on hold with the diagnosis. He knows the clock is ticking and wants to leave behind "meaningful work". Sadly the clock has stopped now, which makes watching this a little mournful. Especially with the candid shots of him taking medication and brushing his teeth. It's magical watching him experiment though. Recording foley sounds of nature out in forests. Matching them with strings in the studio, a common theme of nature and man working with and against each other. Leafing through Tarkovsky photo books, recording the rain hitting windows, standing outside with a bucket on his head. When he smiles at what he's creating, it's emotional. Pure joy. Along with the present day circa 2017, there's more of that context, with his 80s kitsch pop star phase and of course the famous 'Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence', from the film that I didn't realise he also starred in. He has quite a list of credits, both as actor and composer. It's his story in his voice. Traveling the world, a love letter to nature and its influence. That's what Coda tries to capture. A career perspective, in his final chapter.

I've just watched the documentary We Were Once Kids about the making of Kids. I've not watched this since its release, but it's now time to revisit it with fresh eyes and more context. If you've not seen Kids. It follows a bunch of teenagers in 90s NYC, over the course of a hot summers day in a documentary style. Style is the important word there. The handheld chaotic camera makes this feel real. It's not, but there's truth in every lie as they say. It's scripted, everyone's acting, but they're all first timers mostly playing themselves. The drugs are real, the booze is real. Drugs, booze, I thought this was about kids? Therein lies some of the warranted controversy. We open with Telly (Leo Fitzpatrick) trying to sweet talk his virgin girlfriend into having sex. It's awkward and uncomfortable. Telly is not in love, he just wants to have sex. He's a scrawny, vile and obnoxious prick. As is his mate Casper (Justin Pierce), who gets all the sordid details as they laugh about it, walking down the street drinking out of a brown paper bag as the city is waking up. Honestly though, everyone's pretty wild. As we meet Jennie (Chloë Sevigny) and Ruby (Rosario Dawson), they're discussing with a group of girlfriends how they lost their virginity and how much they love sex. It's the focus of everything. Sex, drugs, sex, booze, sex, skating, sex. Telly's going around screwing anyone he can. What he doesn't know is, Jennie, who he's slept with before has just found out she's HIV Positive. This is what made Kids shocking when I saw it as an 18 year old. We'd grown up with the AIDS adverts on TV, we knew to be careful. Watching this scumbag on the screen with no respect for himself or anyone else was genuinely chilling. It still is. It's like a horror. If this were an underground film that stayed that way, maybe it'd be different, but there's something in it breaking out as a mainstream hit that makes it all the more disturbing. These kids have no discipline and no parents around to enforce any. They're ferrel. It's a pretty depressing watch, full of misogyny, homophobia, rape and squalor. Honestly it's worst watching it now, 30 years on. Essentially it comes down to Jennie spending the film searching for Telly before he sleeps with anyone else, but her day gets even worse before that happens. Despite the unsavoury narrative, dialogue, concept, it's oddly captivating. You feel like you shouldn't be watching it. It's really difficult to get a handle on. After my second viewing I can only say that despite its undeniable innovative nature. It's a horrible film and I hate it. It's only redeeming traits, that it launched a couple of half decent careers. Although it's telling that most of the cast and creators went on to very little or nothing. It's depressing, it's nasty, if you want to know how nasty. Pretend you're in New Zealand and watch the documentary.

I've not watched Kids since it was released. I was 18 and it shocked me. It shocked a lot of people. I'd not seen anything like it. No one had. What is this? Was a common question? Is this real? Was another. Whether you liked it or not, there's no denying it was fresh and thought provoking. We Were Once Kids is a documentary about the film, its cast and its production. I've wanted to see this for a while, but it's not easy to find in the U. K. In fact it's near impossible, I had to watch on DocPlay via a VPN. Kids is quintessential 90s, but as this doc explains, it's about youth born into 70/80s New York. A place to aspire escape from. That escape is skate culture, bringing people of all types together. One of the big questions of Kids was, where are the parents? These kids are wild! The truth is the parents were wilder. Drugged up or dead as crack exploded through the city. Much of this back story comes from writer Hamilton Harris, he had a smaller role in the film, but he's a big part of this documentary. Painting a vivid picture of a society that's the very definition of dysfunctional. So was it real? Yeah kinda. Some of these people were friends before the cameras rolled. More than that, they were family, replacing what was absent at home. It's fascinating to hear how organically it grew. Kids bonding over skating, weed, a simple need to have someone to hang out with. Hamilton, meets Harold Hunter, Harold introduces Harmony (Korine) a kid from out of town. Tobin Yelland is hanging around and introduces an older dude, Larry Clark into the mix. He runs a photography workshop, loves skateboards, wants to make a film. You can see where this is going. It's all a joke to begin. Larry's gonna shoot a movie, Harmony's gonna write it, we're all gonna be in it. Just a laugh right? Not everyone from the film speaks here and some like Leo Fitzpatrick who played Telly tellingly doesn't feature at all, others are referred to via archive footage alone and there's a lot of archive. Like Justin Pierce, who it's said always wanted to act, he's not interviewed as he took his own life at the age of 25, but he and Harold (who also died young) are the ringmasters, bringing kids to Larry to be cast in the film. It's weird, they know it's weird. Who's this old dude hanging around with a bunch of kids. But it's exciting for them and what else are they going to do? That is unless you're a girl. Highlyann Krasnow (great name) reads Harmony's script and clocks it for its "rape and misogyny". She wants no part, so the casting net widens. Enter people like Jon Abrahams, who talks about going with the flow, doing what Larry says, being stoned while shooting. Javier Nunez, no idea how old he was at the time but very young, smoking a load of joints then passing out. Honestly it's troubling. Most of these kids were from broken homes, vulnerable and it's clear they were taken advantage of. The shoot wraps. They watch a screener and have a party, sign some papers, except some cash. "We were left where we started from". The film goes to festivals and boom! What are these kids doing on screen? How old are they? Are they old enough? Larry Clark doesn't have the answers, because clearly some of them are not. To him, it's just a movie, but it's not is it. It feels real because so much of it is, there's no fluff, it's handheld lofi doc style screams authenticity and it connects. In America at least, audiences bond with it in the same way that those kids bonded before Larry even turned up. The fallout is intense. Some feed off it, like Harold who laps up the limelight, others feel exposed and used. Others choose to distance themselves from everyone. "I remember watching Harmony transform into a person I didn't recognise". The leads, Justin, Jon, Harold, Rosario Dawson, Chloë Sevigny, all have opportunities, it's a stepping stone. Everyone else, it's a dead weight. The movie is a hit. It makes millions. Guess who's cashing in... and who's not. It's a tragic story and very little positive comes from Kids. We Were Once Kids is enlightening, but it's not an easy watch and with that in mind, now I'm going to rewatch Kids.

It's Yorkshire in the 90s. It says so on the screen, but the accents and streets give it away. It's a gripping start as a young boy goes missing in a corner shop. I've got instant chills as the jumps and bumps sync with some lovely camera work. As the titles roll, so do the 'missing' headlines, multiple children, a "Summer of Fear". 25 years later. Desolate windswept moors, ominous church bells, quiet streets. In a cafe, Claire (Sophia La Porta) now grown up, is trying to move on from her guilt over what happened to her friend Danny (Dexter Sol Ansell). But the child killer that's suspected took him, is facing release after a botched investigation and Danny's father, Bill (David Edward-Robertson) wants Claire to help him stop it, by finding evidence on The Moor. It plays to a genuine chilling fear. Missing children. Never found. Thought now to be on the moors. No closure. If you're a certain age in Britain, you'll recall the Moors Murders, a horror story that played out in real time. This is why the first act of this hits so hard. When Claire realises the scale of the possible search area, it's unfathomable and even stranger that Bill has deemed now to only search a specific region. There's more to this than first meets the eye. Enter Alex (Mark Peachy) who's helping Bill make these choices based on something beyond. The shots on the moors are fantastic, wide open, the camera laps up the brutal landscape, but as Claire goes searching with Bill and a ranger called Liz (Vicki Hackett), it's her GoPro footage that gets the heart pumping. This first person shot puts you right in the heart of it and gives a real sense of just how dangerous this terrain is in its own right, before adding any sinister layers. We also get interview clips with locals that fill in not only what happened in the Summer of Fear, but how they all feel about its legacy. It's here we meet Thornley (Bernard Hill) and Becky (Mia Vore) a child at the time when Danny went missing. These scenes fill in the space wonderfully and give it real weight. It's Claire's perspective that brings the chills though and it is chilling, terrifyingly so. There's something supernatural at play and this is where Alex and his daughter Eleanor (Elizabeth Dormer-Phillips) come in. They help pinpoint a spot thought to be where Danny is, but it's deep into the moor. Things are going to get dark, very very dark. Honestly I'm going to struggle to sleep tonight. It all starts to take a toll on Claire too. They make some progress, but this only digs them further into the nightmare. The spooky stuff is very effective, but mix it with that natural eeriness of the landscape and the real life horror of missing children and you've got a stone cold thriller. The acting across the board is punchy and powerful, the score is wild and scrungy, the production reaches way beyond its budget. It looks fantastic and it's perfectly paced and really keeps you on your toes. This may well have ruined any future wild camping trips I had planned, it's just as well we're heading in to winter, I need a good six months before I think about spending the night alone in a tent in the middle of nowhere. This is director Chris Cronin's feature length debut. It's a hell of a start.

We start and stay in the British countryside. This is very British, very macho. A bunch of paramilitary type blokes lead by Brace (Rocci Boy Williams) are holed up in a rural country pile owned by Carlisle (Jason Flemyng). It's clear there's tension in the group from the start. They've just pulled off a job acquiring some drugs, but it wasn't smooth. Carlisle wants them out as soon as possible, he's just doing Brace a favour. They're a dislikable lot, but that's the point. They're going to get what they deserve at the hands of The Stoic (Scott Wright), a chap with a calling. He reports to Mother (Carol Holt), a kind of puritanical cult leader who likes to punish people with medieval torture. The gang have two women, drugs mules (Mia Vore & Anka Evens) that they've taken along with the drugs, locked up in the stables and this is what draws the attention of The Stoic. There's a good dose of folklore. The Stoic's it's explained are, let's simplify this, descendants of ancient Scottish enforcers, who wear bonnets. The modern day incarnation to protect those who need protection. The gang only have to deal with one, but he's a handful and sure enough, before long he's picking them off. I won't lie some of the acting is a bit wooden, the dialogue stunted. Lots of overly thoughtful frowning. It does plod a little too. I had a chuckle as one henchman pleads "Oh Christ have you finished?" before he's dispatched. There's a lot of chatter that frankly doesn't go anywhere, it's just killing time before the next killing. Honestly it could do with a lighter touch in places, a little dark humour perhaps, some kind of ebb and flow. It does keep on track though, it's simple, doesn't get too complicated. As the body count rises and the gang get spooked, their boss Rhodes (Bruce Payne) is called. He knows all about The Stoic's and wants to bag one. It's nicely shot, scored well. The location is perfect with plenty of foley scope for ominous crow calls and shrieking foxes. It knows to keep the most annoying characters around to be killed last. Honestly I couldn't wait for one particular bloke to get a good kicking. Things do come unstuck a bit as it reaches its conclusion though. Brace seems to have a personality switch and there's a somewhat unexplained twist that doesn't really sit with the rest of the film. I'm watching this because someone I know is starring. Otherwise this would completely pass me by. Small independent productions like this really struggle to get eyes on them, but despite there being some good ideas here, it does limp toward the end. Wright and Vore stand out, as does Flemying and it's worth a watch if you like dark, gritty, independently produced moody British cinema.

It always raises an eyebrow, when a new band (and Kneecap are still new to most) branch out into other mediums quickly. We're programmed to think people should stay in their lane, but that's not very Kneecap. This rap trio are, militant for want of a better word. This is their origin story. There's drugs, despondency, absent fathers, police, paramilitary and the general struggles of being oppressed. They're Irish you see. Very Irish, they rap in Gaelic, but that's getting ahead. This, although an origin story of a band, is more than that. It's the struggle of a people to retain their identity and language is important in that. Young Naorise and Liam (playing themselves) are taught at an early age the importance of language by Naorise's dad, Arló (Michael Fassbender) a staunch Irish Republican. This bonds the pair, not just with each other, but with JJ (also playing himself). It's gritty, urban concrete graffiti filled streets, local pubs and high-rise flats. Like Trainspotting, but more socially political. As the three start to work out the songs in JJs garage, their underground project starts to rear its head and word gets out. This gives JJ, who's not only older, but a teacher, a problem. Their lyrics aren't exactly PC and so, donning a balaclava in Irish colours, they take to the stage. Standing out I'll say doesn't seem to be a great thing to start. It brings them to the attention of squabbling paramilitary forces, the cops and the pro Irish language campaigners all of who struggle with anti British lyrics mixed with MDMA references. It's a complex story, made accessible by some genuinely interesting people. Whatever you think of the politics, this is really engaging and a well made film, about a conflict that I think many think is in the past. I'm not a Kneecap fan, but the music is visceral and the beats are brilliant. They tell the story really well. This film doesn't change my mind about them, but it does add a lot of context to the group and that undeniably makes them a much more interesting prospect.

I really must visit Orkney one day. Rona (Saoirse Ronan) returns to her childhood home there, after her life in London catastrophically loses focus. It's a rural, isolated, peaceful, yet brutal existence on the island. Windswept scenery peppered with sheep. Beautiful really, but Rona is lost and lonely. Her return is temporary she tells herself, just a pause until she returns to the city to restart her life. Orkney frustrates her, her family frustrate her, well her mum at least, too much religion and knitwear. Her relationship is better with her father (Stephen Dillane), a real outdoors type, he has his own issues that Rona can relate to, but she misses the drinking in London, the mass of people, the clubs, the excitement, the drinking, the hedonism, Daynin (Paapa Essiedu). The drinking. This is why she's come home. To stay sober. Rona tries to find a sense of peace, narrating a sort of poetic inner monologue as she connects with the expanse of nature that surrounds her, but the pull of addiction is strong. The Outrun splits the two timelines of Rona's life and intercuts them. Flashbacks showing us just how bad things got, before she found help. There's no denying it's bleak, but it's not depressing. It's authentic, Ronan channels Rona's strengths and weaknesses brilliantly in a touching portrayal of how depression and alcohol can tear into a life mercilessly. Removing temptation on weather beaten remote islands seems like a good idea. I get it, stripping life back to its basics. Food and shelter... and purpose. Time. That's the killer isn't it. Finding something constructive to do with it, rather than destructive. There's no fluff here, no surface sheen. It's raw, honest, rich in humanity, frank and brilliant. "In grandiose moments, high on fresh air and freedom on the hill, I study my personal geology. My body is a continent." Despite feeling understated, it's a big and bold film. A magnificent story of the importance of connection and it brought me to tears of pure joy. I really must visit Orkney.

The fascinating true life story of Lee Miller, portrayed here by Kate Winslet. You've never heard of Lee Miller have you. She's not well known, that is she's been forgotten. This isn't a Vivian Meyer sort of story, Lee Miller was a war photographer during WWII. Winslet was apparently a driving force in telling this and you can tell in her performance. She's strong, determined, defiant. Before the bombs go off, we meet Lee at a junction in her life. Wanting to leave behind modelling for photographs, to be behind the camera herself. Hanging out with the bourgeois artists of prewar France, she meets Roland (Alexander Skarsgård), who tempts her to London as Hitler's on the rise. Soon art is made irrelevant by war and Lee feels irrelevant too, until she finds her documentarian focus, trying to make sense of the arriving chaos. There's a great supporting cast, Andrea Riseborough as the Vogue Editor supporting Lee and others battle the patriarchy. Andy Samberg, a fellow correspondent and one of the few good guys. Josh O'Conner who's interviewing Lee in her later years, with whom we see the photographs she's takes. I won't spoil who he is, but their scenes together help steer us through a dizzying period of time with someone quite literally on the front line. It's Winslet that's in charge though, she's in pretty much every frame. Talking us through her experience. It's powerful stuff. War films often are, but this is more than just the war. It's her struggle to tell the truth of what's happening, to capture that truth, all while being held back by almost every man she encounters. Of course, there's the hidden war too. Not just the Nazis and Allies, but the one sided war of the Holocaust. It's not exactly gritty, but the deeper into the war she goes, the more chilling it becomes. As she encounters those who've endured more than we can fathom, Lee understands she's not the only one that's had to find unimaginable resources of strength. A fitting tribute to a remarkable person and a gateway into a world of stunning photography.

I've gone back and read my review for Joker (this is why I review, my memory is terrible). I knew I liked it, but it turns out I loved it... will I love the follow up? After a darkly bleak cartoon intro, things start even darker and bleaker with our malnourished chain-smoking antihero Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) in jail. It's not necessary to have seen Joker (although you should). The basics are covered again here, he's killed and has wound up in the dank dark Gotham prison. Arthur, known better as Joker, is famously insane, although that's up for debate here. He's dangerous sure, but likeable and although he doesn't talk for the first 10 minutes of this, Phoenix is so expressive, he's utterly captivating with even the subtlest of movements. His split personality is his defence against the charges, but before we get in to the legal stuff, he gets the chance at some music rehabilitation, where he meets 'Lee' (Lady Gaga). She knows Arthur's story. Everyone does. He's a celebrity. Doing interviews behind bars with TV personality Paddy Meyers (Steve Coogan). That's all largely fluff. The important thing is Lee's not scared of Arthur, she admires him and this opens something in him. Singing for a start. How you feel about singing in films will be a big factor here. There's a lot of it. It's not a full blown musical, but it more than dips a toe. There's singing in jail, singing in trial as he tries to avoid the electric chair. I'll be honest it's a struggle, even with Arthur's fantasy cutaways. The first film seemed to ride its pace well, it was slow in the all right places and knew when and how much to hit the gas. This though, largely just plods. Phoenix is still pretty magnificent, but even he can't carry this. Gaga is good too, they play off one another well, but it's still a mess. I'm all for challenging cinema. Usually the weirder the better, but this doesn't know what it wants to be. Maybe that's the point, perhaps it's to appear as random and disjointed as Arthur's shattered reality. It has moments, it's not all bad. But it's needlessly long and sadly dull. So no, I don't love it and have little faith in the story dragging on for a third instalment, although I'm sure it will. Maybe that'll be better, this sets the bar pretty low.

I used to say I didn't like horror. That's nonsense, I love good horror. The question is, is this good horror? Elizabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) is a Hollywood starlet who's, lost her sparkle. This we learn from an amusingly inventive and stylish opening. In fact this is packed with surface level style, that's sort of the point. Make no mistake though, this has plenty under the hood. Turning 50 and quite honestly looking fantastic, she's lonely and being forced out of work by a patriarchal industry obsessed with youth. It's vicious. An accident leads to an opportunity to regain her stardom, via The Substance. Is it an opportunity though, or the start of a living nightmare. The Substance will create a perfect younger version of you. One that you're to share your time with. One week for you, one week for the copy that you're tied to, until death you part. It's all very Cronenbergian. Starkly shot in a hyperreal, sparsely populated world, little dialogue, just enough to guide us. Once signed up, Elizabeth receives her DIY box with instructions. You activate only once, you stabilise every day, you switch every seven days without exception. Remember you are one. It's simple, but ominous. That's a good summary, but it doesn't pull any punches, it's a body horror bonanza as Elizabeth activates and that's only the beginning. The new Elizabeth isn't a clone copy, she's Sue (Margaret Qualley). Who seems instantly to know what to do, but then she knows what Elizabeth knows. They are one. There are a lot of needles involved and plenty of gore as the pair navigate 80s America dominated by creeps like Harvey (Dennis Quaid)... who's also looking pretty great. I say pair, they're not. You have to remember it's the same consciousness in both bodies. Secretly living two lives in rotation. The obvious issue is all admin is on Elizabeth's time, while the excitement is in Sue's world of perfect bodies, having sex to a banging electro score. She's told to "Respect the balance", but the scales are already tipping. Qualley is great, Moore is great. They are one after all. Moore though, often without any dialogue, her role trapped in a prison of her making, portrays this psychological unravelling brilliantly. As balance goes out the window, Elizabeth finds herself having to face the horrifying consequences of her choices. For the faint hearted it is not. The pace is rapid, so much so that you're left wondering what fresh hell is there left to endure. The make-up department must have had an absolute field day, the sound department too. The score is wonderfully menacing and the foley work is packed with all kinds of visceral squeltchiness. It's a damning critique against ageism, not only in society, but in each of us, how we choose to deal with getting older. Addiction too, what we relate to a good time and what's more important in life. Be careful what you wish for. It's not perfect, but it's a very interesting premise, brilliantly executed right through to its gripping finale of pure nightmare fuel. Is it a good horror? No, it's a great horror.

I'm here thanks to Martin Scorsese. His Powell and Pressburger documentary is a great watch, entertaining and informative. Most of the films covered, I've watched, but I've never before seen Peeping Tom. This is Powell without Pressburger and a radical departure from the films they made together. It's rather sinister and salacious. Mark Lewis (Karlheinz Böhm) likes to murder people, women specifically and to film them screaming as they die. That sounds horrible doesn't it and it is, but made in 1960, this has an almost Hitchcock tone to it. There's no gore, it relies on the cinematic trick of what you don't see. We're in London, everything is stiff upper lip and wotnot, but there's a seedy underbelly not far beneath the surface as the city's starting to swing. This in essence is the hook. What's sociably acceptable and what everyone gets up to behind closed doors... well aside the murdering bit. Mark is a loner. Awkward, he doesn't fit in. He has a haunting air about him that distances him from both the respectable and the deviants. His solace is the camera. Photographing girls for the local soft porn pedalling newsagent, filming his secretive documentary, oh and yes the murdering. As serial killers go he's rather likeable, hence me footnoting the murdering. He's shy, interesting. Helen (Anna Massey) thinks so. She's the neighbour downstairs, his tenant actually, although he's very much the humble bohemian with his long overcoat and scooter, rather than gentrified landlord. This could be simple schlocky thriller stuff, but as we learn more about Mark and his past through Helen's intrigue, there's more to this than meets the eye. Vivian (Moira Shearer) likes him too. She wants to be a star, but Mark has other plans... and he does have a plan, he wants to be caught. The acting style is very much of its time and it's more charming than anything else, seen through modern eyes. The whole thing is dramatically theatrical, with wonderfully overblown characters. Like Helen's mother (Maxine Audley) who very nearly steals the show. Its slasher movie voyeurism was highly controversial on release. I can understand why, but 60 years on it plays really well. The truth is although it's not perfect, it is really good and if snooty old critics couldn't see that, their loss. It's just a shame that it pretty much canned Powell's career.

I thought I'd watched this before, years ago around the time of release, but I'm not so sure. Maybe I just saw the poster. I've favourable memories of it for whatever reason, which might seem a bit shallow. John (Sam Neill), a navel officer, comes home to some bad news, losing his son in a car crash. He nearly lost his wife Rae (Nicole Kidman) too. She survived but is unsurprisingly traumatised. So they head out on their boat, alone, for some space on the ocean, some time to grieve in the calm seas. That's the idea anyway. All is well until a battered boat appears on the horizon. Its only living passenger is Hughie (Billy Zane), who tells a story of his food poisoned mates, now dead on board his sinking schooner, after he rows to John and Rae's and apologises for ruining their day. The calm is well and truly over. I say his story, it's clear he's hiding something. Zane has the face for this doesn't he. What is it about his eyes and demeanour that suggests he's not to be trusted. Rae empathises with his traumatic tale, but John doesn't trust him, smells a rat. Something that's confirmed when he finds bodies on Hughie's boat and finds himself alone in a dinghy, as Hughie steals his boat with Rae aboard! It's a gripping set up, but sadly this is as good as it gets. John has to use all his seamanship to salvage Hughie's abandoned death boat and rescue Rae. Neill is great, Kidman is too, Zane is over the top. Granted the role calls for unhinged psychotic but it's a bit much. After its frantic start, the second act is all about the slow building tension, as Rae tries to thwart Hughie's plans and John tries to stay afloat. This is its big issue, for far too long it just treads water. Kidman isn't given enough to work with and Zane just isn't strong enough. His role needs some menace, but he's too cartoon like to carry it. Thank god it all takes place in cramped spaces, the setting really is the only thing to make this tick. That and wanting to see Hughie get a bloody monumental kicking. It's not bad, but it's not great either and certainly not as good as I've remembered or made up in my head.

It's been a while since I watched this, but I was watching the Tour de France earlier this year and felt the need to revisit. The Triplets in question are a 1920s singing cabaret act, but that's getting ahead. Madam Souza lives with her young grandson and dog in rural France. This is very French. The dog, Bruno has been introduced to try and entertain the bored grandson. It sort of works, but not as well as a bike! There's little dialogue, but the grotesquely styled animation is powerful. Time passes. Bruno gets fat, but the grandson gets stronger on the bike, training for the National obsession with the help of his grandmother. The training methods are wonderfully inventive, they're a real DIY team, including Bruno, who in typical animated dog tradition is more human than the humans. The Tour if you've never watched it is quite a spectacle. Riders battling the picturesque French countryside, followed by a caravan of support, reporters and of course fans. The grandson, now grown up, is all muscle and sinew and leading the race. His support of course, his loving grandmother and Bruno. Until... sabotage! Madam Souza's van is taken out by burly box shouldered bad boys in black and our hero cyclist is kidnapped! He may be a champion cyclist with enviable stamina, but he's got that strength from his grandmother, who'll go to epic lengths, launching a daringly defiant rescue on the streets of New York. It's here she teams up with the Triplets, an equally resourceful and eccentric bunch, who help Madame Souza thwart the French mafia's dastardly games. It's fantastically creative, heartwarmingly funny and looks spectacular. A timeless piece of modern French cinema.

The Platform returns for a second helping. I enjoyed the first instalment. It had some issues, but it was largely an engaging horror with a lot of style and had some genuinely intriguing things to say about how we behave as a society. It drip fed its narrative well. Posing questions, letting the viewer do the work. This sequel does require you to have seen its predecessor really, but we get a bit more information upfront. Mainly about Zamiatin (Hovik Keuchkerian), he's on Level 24 with Perempuán (Milena Smit) and he has a problem. You see here, the food that decends through each cell isn't a free for all as before. Scoff all you want if you're at the top and leave those below you to stave. They've devised a system. Everyone has their dish. Selected in advance of entering The Pit. Everyone eats what they're supposed to and harmony is achieved. Except someone has eaten Zamiatin's pizza! I recall the last film starting with a slow menacing pace. This is certainly still menacing, but it's right into the action as a fight kicks off with the pizza thief on Level 21 and there are casualties, the first of many.

I liked the simplicity of The Platform, but things feel convoluted here. We learn through Robespierre (Bastien Ughetto) that this system is self imposed, a law, governed by trust, devised by one known as The Messiah. Zamiatin is new and skeptical. He's not violent, but he's not great at obeying rules. Perempuán though is and she's a positive influence. What makes this tick is the level reset every month. Although our friends start on Level 24 and learn to respect the law. It's much harder to keep in line when they find themselves on Level 180! The premise is simple as Perempuán explains to her new cellmate Sahabat (Natalia Tena), "If the law isn't respected, people die. The higher up you are, the more responsibility". Sahabat isn't new though and knows that the rules are worthless and no one survives. It's bleak stuff. The barbarians disobeying the rules are punished by The Anointed lead by Daging Babi (Óscar Jaenada), who dictates without mercy. Everyone else is expected to obey or face the gruesome consequences. Obviously things fall apart. This is a horror not a blueprint for utopia, but it would be better if the film itself didn't fall apart. The first film wasn't perfect, but it had clarity that matched the starkness of the uniform concrete world of The Pit. This though tries to build on it and its foundations just aren't strong enough.

I've seen Deadpool. I don't recall much. I think I thought it was okay. I've been encouraged to watch this sequel. I'm forever skeptical about sequels and Marvel comic superhero stuff leaves me a bit cold. Will I survive another 2 hours in the presence of so much spandex? I feel like I'm missing more than I'm getting. This is an immersive world, apparently bridging across multiple films with other characters I've not seen and know nothing about. So let's take this on surface. Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) talks a lot. This is actually helpful. He's upset, poor bloke and so decides there's only one way forward with an elaborate and yet simple suicide in the opening scene. So the next 2 hours are pointless? Let's see. I'd forgotten just how filthy this is... and violent. I've been watching a lot of gangster films lately and this makes them look tame as the blood flys along with the expletives as Deadpool does his work, which is as far as I can ascertain is, hitman, with a thing for Dolly Parton, Enya ...and AC/DC. It's about here that I have to Google to check something. He's losing a lot of blood in these fights, what the hell is going on? Important bit of info, he's essentially invincible, able to heal himself. Which is handy, but does destroy any element of peril. I guess that comes with his relationship with Vanessa (Morena Baccarin). I'll try to avoid spoilers, but let's just say he's on a journey. That's sounds wanky doesn't it. It is. The action, the sets, it's all fine. It's all fun, but to be honest it's really just the fourth wall breaking quips that set this apart. Without that it'd be pretty dull. Deadpool, Wade when the mask is off, is taken to a country pile with some other superhero mates for some R&R, whilst Cable (Josh Brolin) makes a grizzled appearance as a time travelling semi-terminator styled GI and Eddie Marsden with an American accent turns up in some horn-rimmed specs as a sadistic headmaster who's been watching too much Clockwork Orange. What the hell is going on?? The headmaster has Firefist (Julian Dennison), a young misunderstood lad with fire, fists. Hence the terrible name. He's a troubled lad, much like Deadpool and in need of rescue, much like Deadpool. So there's the mission. Help the kid, heal Deadpool's pain. I've watched this with the nagging feeling throughout that I'm missing something. Characters seem driven by a plot point I've missed. I don't believe it's been explained, it's expected you know and that for me is an issue. So instead I give up on the plot and just enjoy the copious action and jokes. I'd be lying if I said I didn't smile a lot and laugh in what I think were all the right places and that gun is indeed amazing, but this film isn't.

I watched Goodfellas yesterday. A great film, but not quite as good as I remembered. I'm wondering if time has confused it with Casino in my mind. Let's see. I'd certainly forgotten this was 3 hours long! Like Goodfellas, it's another true story adaptation and it also starts with a preview of something horrific happening in a car. There are a lot of similarities in fact. Another tryptic lead cast, Sam (or Ace) (Robert De Niro) is the Casino boss in question, Ginger (Sharon Stone) his wife and Nicky (Joe Pesci) the right hand man nasty bloke muscle. They are all destined to fail. The Casino is legit, but what's behind it is as corrupt as you'd expect for a Scorsese picture. Sam and Nicky's narration leads us through the exposition. Introducing themselves and their world. How it all works, skimming a little money off the top of the take to line their pockets and their mafia bosses. They control the Casino, they control Vegas and Sam is their man. Sam's meticulous... and a gambler, but most important, he reads people as well as cards. Keeping everyone including the politicians and the law on side, keeping the big machine humming. I love the way Scorsese sets this up. It's again a heady mix of characters, connections and camera. Always on the move, scenes are tightly crafted. It's 3 hours, but nothing ever overstays its welcome. Sam is flying high, smoking cigarettes in sharp suits. A lone wolf type, in control of the pack. Enter, Ginger. She's the wildcard. A hustler. The hustler. She's what makes Casino tick. She makes sense in Vegas. Sam makes sense in Vegas. They have control. Nicky, he does not make sense in Vegas. He's a loose canon. Perfect for a gripping story that although on the surface seems complicated, is actually very simple. Sam makes a gamble marrying Ginger. He knows it. He probably knows it's a bad call, but he makes it. He's unaware of the power that Lester (James Woods), Gingers low life pimp like ex has over her. This is one pillar of Casino, everything revolves on this call he makes to trust his new wife. That's only one side of it of course. Ginger finds herself now controlled, rather than controlling. That isn't going to end well. The other pillar is Nicky, his temper and his sideline stealing after he's blacklisted by the FBI from the casinos. It's not really a gangster film until Nicky puts someone's head in a vice. Sam's once simple world slowly unravels. That's what Scorsese does best isn't it. Hold your hand while the world spins out of control. It's a wild ride packed with colourful characters, but you never feel lost. Ginger drinking, Sam making enemies with the yokel locals, Nicky providing the splatter. It wraps its way around you, immersing you it its world. Scorsese's that is. It's not Sam and Nicky's world. They refer to Vegas, as "out here" and "the dessert", it's not home and maybe that's the biggest problem. My one criticism if there is one, is Stone's Ginger is almost forgotten in the second act as Sam and Nicky begin to feud. It feels like a more well rounded film with her in it. Even when she's back in the picture, she's reduced to a pawn by the male characters around her. Pecsi and De Niro do what they do. These are the characters they're born to play. Pretty much the only character Pesci plays, but Stone, she's magnificent. Her story arc is the most extreme and she's delivers it masterfully. As great as it is, the journey is more satisfying than the destination... but there's really no excuse for getting it mixed up with Goodfellas.

Goodfellas is a terrifying film. This is why I've not rewatched it in decades. I'm here now because a meme reminded me of it, that's terrible reason to watch a film, but it's the truth and it's probably the truth that makes this terrifying. Although this is a dramatised account, it's based on the true story of Henry Hill (Ray Liotta). "As far back as I can remember I wanted to be a gangster", that's pretty much Henry's opening line as he shuts the trunk on a dead body killed by Jimmy (Robert De Niro) and Tommy (Joe Pesci) and that in a nutshell sums up the film. People tied together by violent crime. Henry is half Irish, half Italian. Growing up around the local gangsters, learning the ropes, making connections, making money, getting respect. This introduction to young Henry is important. It hammers home the family function of the mob. Once in, nothing penetrates it. It's bred into you. You'd die for each other. You'd kill too. Goodfellas is about more than killing and stealing though. It's about loyalty, vanity, masculinity. You can almost smell the screen. There's a tense underbelly to every scene. Be it Tommy's unhinged temper or Henry's greed. Henry narrates throughout. He meets Karen (Lorraine Bracco). To begin with she seems his equal and that's what he likes. Quickly she learns that Henry is dangerous, but she likes that too... and marries him. Once you're in. You can't get out. Not even if you want to. The dialogue is rapid, you feel like you're in a pressure cooker. The camera too is always on the move, but boy does it move beautifully. Through rooms, kitchens, everyday life and energy oozes from the screen. Let's not pretend it's not absolutely brutal though. Yes it's packed with style, yes it's the characters that make it tick, but when the guns are drawn, or the knives, clubs, anything to hand, it's bloody! Sooner or later, someone's going to make a mistake. Tommy is that someone and the mistake is the body in the trunk in the pre-titles scene. It's one of many mines planted in the story, buried ironically. Left, ticking. The mob lifestyle goes on, but these things are there. Remembered by those biding their time. Honestly it's not an easy watch. There's no good guys, the title is a total lie. Every single person on screen is a scumbag. After setting the scene for an hour, the scumbags start the infighting and the cracks begin to show. The genius of this though is how it keeps you hooked. The pacing is perfection. Henry encounters bumps, does time, his marriage on the rocks, but on it goes. He's digging deeper though and soon digging into coke against Paulie's (Paul Sorvino) wishes. Massive heists attract the FBI. Too many fingers in too many pies. Even as the trio of Henry, Jimmy and Tommy galvanise and try to cover their tracks, it's too late as things unravel to classic American needle drops. They thought they were safe. High enough up the food chain, but they've not spotted their vulnerability. It's a brilliant film from start to end, but you know what? That meme... it was from Casino!

I've never seen Dirty Harry before. It's one of those well known film titles that I've just never got around to. I know that Harry is Clint Eastwood. But why is he dirty? Well Harry Callahan is a cop. A detective to be precise. In 60s San Fransisco. He's after a killer and this wastes no time setting the tone. The body count kicks off in the opening scene. The premise, the mayor coughs up $100,000 or the killing continues. Enter Harry, he doesn't play by the rules, hence the dirty moniker. He also has an ironic issue with authority figures... like the mayor, his bosses, or anyone really. He's the lovable rogue and Eastwood is perfect, especially young Eastwood. He's essentially a cowboy let loose on the city streets. This is a city film. Concrete and cars, a time capsule immortalising an analog America. There's never been a time I recall when America wasn't considered a dangerous country and cinema like this does little to quell that. It's stylish though. That's the point, it's a love letter to Harry type, the all American no nonsense Anti-hero. Straight talking. Straight shooting. Doing what's right by his own conscience and nothing more. He fixes problems, dirty ones. The score is both of its time and brilliant, adding to the slick cool and the energy of the killer (Andrew Robinson) on the loose. As the body count rises, so do the stakes. Harry finds himself being instructed to "do what you're told". Good luck with that. The first half of the film although all set up is still packed with a nice mix of action and character building. We meet Chico (Reni Santoni), Harry's new reluctantly welcomed partner and learn that the Scorpio killer is more than just a madman with a sniper rifle. Harry though, is more than just a cop. In fact he's not a particular good cop. It's not the most complex plot (to start at least), but it's bloody good fun to watch unfold and there's an intriguing moral, social and constitutional element to it. Ah America and its constitution. The third act provides an interesting twist as it proves there's more to this than first meets the eye. It's a great film. I bet gun toting republicans love it!!

I watched the Bridges/Sutherland remake years ago and really enjoyed it, but apparently the original is much better! We're in mid-80s France. A young Dutch couple, Saskia (Johanna ter Steele) and Rex (Gene Bervoets) are bickering on a road trip, in a car that runs out of gas off the beaten track. Rex walks off to fetch gas, when he returns, Saskia is gone!... He finds her, but this is foreshadowing what's to come. This intro would be scary enough, but perhaps too predictable too tropey, but when Saskia goes missing in broad daylight at a busy service stop up the road, it's pretty chilling. There's no panic at first. Rex doesn't know what we know. We've seen Raymond (Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu) lurking with his chloroform. Rex is soon running around the services, shouting her name. Searching high and low... but she's gone. Seemingly into fresh air. Just as Raymond has meticulously planned. He's a family man, with an answer for every one of his unusual behaviours. Three years on, Rex is still wondering what happened. It's not helped by the mysterious postcards he receives, stringing him along, stopping him from moving on. Stopping from committing to Lieneke (Gwen Eckhaus). It's the perfect three act structure. Saskia's vanishing. Rex's tormenting and then, Raymond's party game revelations. Squaring up to Rex in the street, he offers a "unique chance" to find out what happened and Rex is too invested to say no. The structure may sound simple, but the way this slowly tells us more and more about Raymond is deftly done and as we learn, slowly Rex does too. Raymond is cold, calculating, but oddly personable. Nothing like the Bridges portrayal. You don't side with him, or even understand him, but he's a much more accessible character than his actions would have you believe. The remake felt grittier, grimier, but this feels better balanced. Its daily mundanity makes it all the more harrowing. It's so normal, so believable and absolutely terrifying.

I've forgotten what happened in Dune: Part One. I'm not alone right? In fact I had to read my previous review to remind me, but with my no spoiler policy, I'm still a bit in the dark. I liked it though it seems and left looking forward to Part Two and so here we are. We start in the ashes of war, but the fight is not over. Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) is lying in the sand dunes once more, fighting with those trying to destroy him, his family, both those fighting alongside and those yet to be born. I'd forgotten just how dense this is and it's really quite difficult to pick up. Watch Part 1 and 2 back to back if you can, there's no refreshers. The bad guys are The Harkonnen. Pasty bald fellas lead by Rabban (Dave Bautista). They now control the Spice fields. The stuff that sustains life on these alien planets and allows travel between them, although this all centres on one planet, Arrakis. Paul and Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) are in exile of sorts there, helped by Stilgar (Javier Bardem), they're on his turf, but the locals aren't happy about it, mainly because they hold him responsible for the death of one of their own, a detail I've clearly forgotten since the last film. There's a lot of chanting, contemplation, spirituality. It's packed with symbology and ritual. This will help the pair, while many don't like their presence, enough see them as a sign of hope. I'd forgotten too who Jessica is, the important detail is she's pregnant with Paul's baby sister. Making her his Mother, but honestly it takes me a while to clock this. She becomes embroiled in their new home's social and religious fabric, whilst Paul builds his myth as Stilgar's messiah. Chani (Zendaya) is having none of the mythical stuff, but she's happy to help him learn how to survive the desert. The visual juxtaposotion of the ancient desert and the sci-fi tech is arresting stuff. Add a layer of bwoarrrr sound design and it hits the blockbuster epic quota easily. It's not that a scene with gunfire and explosions is essential here, but it finally triggers a point, nearly an hour in where I finally feel onboard with this. Paul is shown to be what he is, a fighter, a politician, a leader. No longer living in the shadows of his past. He can move forward and so too can this film. For all the tender spiritual side, let's not forget what's central to all this. Spice. The commodity. The control of it. As Paul progresses with his new friends. Rabban is displeasing his boss the Baron (Stellan Skarsgård) by letting things slip. It could do with a little more of this darkness as it builds. It's very slow paced. I've no issue with being patient but this does test it. As good as Chalamet is, this film puts more than it needs to on his shoulders. The first film seemed to balance all the political plot well with the action, tension and CGI eye candy. This though gets bogged down like Star Wars did with fluffy dialogue delivered by characters with hard to remember names. Honestly, I'm just not invested enough to care, even when the Emperor (Christopher Walken) and his impressive family of Charlotte Rampling and Florence Pugh turn up, like inconsequential gods in a far removed subplot. The introduction of a new bad boy, Feyd-Raytheon (Austin Butler), who looks like a bald Erling Haaland, is one of the most stylishly cinematic things I've seen in a long time. It's pure style over substance and unoriginal in its gladiatorial aping, but it's still absolutely stunning. In short (a bit late for that), you've got the bad dudes inter-fighting, power grabbing, eventually getting themselves sorted in order to go up against the godlike purity of Paul and his mates, once they sort out their own religious clap-trap. Evil against the righteous. This sounds reductive, but that really is it. Feyd-Rautha adds a whole new story at the half way mark. It's almost like they got bored with Part Two and decided to start Part Three instead. It is all connected, but at three bloody hours, it's like a gruelling endurance test. Can anything save it? How about Josh Brolin with a sitar? He's Gurney Halleck, essentially the yahoo American composite. He carries it well, in fact all the acting is solid and you could take any single frame of your choosing and stick it on your wall as art. But there's no denying it's convoluted. You'll know this from Part One and if you've watched that, you'll watch this and you'll likely enjoy it. When it finally gets to its final act, it really is gripping. Do we need a Part Three? No not really, not in the same way we needed this. But it's coming all the same. I might need to watch Parts 1 and 2 again before watching it though, that's going to be a long 6 hours!

I can't recall much about Mad Max: Fury Road. Lots of sand, lots of action, lots of fun. I liked it. This apparently is the origin of the Furiosa character, hence the title. I'll be honest, I don't think you really need to have much if any prior knowledge of this world. We're quickly lead into the post-apocalyptic nightmare. No power grid, no money, societal collapse, chaos. A young Furiosa (Alyla Browne) is captured by bandits and torn from utopia in the desert. Cue a fairly lengthy if not enjoyable chase which sets the tone for Furiosa's life. Utopia may be "a place of abundance", but it's also got badass role models... like her mother. This is a slightly predictable and protracted revenge plot. The bandits lead by a self righteous bloke in a cloak called Dementus (Chris Hemsworth) pillage the desert, killing as they scavenge for food, water and ammunition. All while Furiosa watches, learns, waits. It looks spectacular, but boy does it take a while to find its foothold. Dementus is just bloody annoying, even as he's slightly redeemed momentarily by even nastier bastards on the scene like Immortan Joe (Lachy Hulme). It's essentially a pyramid of evil, a cast of increasingly insane men (always men) with ridiculous names, hell-bent on power. As Furiosa (Anya Taylor-Joy) grows up, now hiding who and what she is, she grows stronger, smarter. Still watching, learning in the midst of an insanely patriarchal society obsessed with testosterone fuelled mechanics. It's an petrolheads dream! This to be fair is true to the 80s film's origins. Open desert, big rigs and motorbikes fighting it out for basic life essentials. This is where we meet Praetorian Jack (Tom Burke), the driver of Immortan Joe's latest war rig, an ornate tanker at the centre of a stunning high-speed battle scene, with people flying all over the screen, explosions, crazy camera sweeps and an endless supply of skinhead dudes covered in white paint, it's like a particularly hellish stage of the Dakar rally. It's here, half way through, that it gets interesting. I can't help but feel it's because here Furiosa takes centre stage. All the baddies have been laboriously introduced. We've the lay of the land, now it's time for Furiosa to rewrite the rules. Dialog is thin and Taylor-Joy feels a little underused, but this is an action film after all and it's got that by the greasy bucketload. Still the narrative is more about being patient, than trying to decode anything particularly nuanced. It's switch your brain off stuff, with holes in it big enough to drive a turbo charged armoured monster truck through. More fool you though if you're watching for the plot. It looks incredible, the wide open world of black and orange, sear your eyeballs there's no denying it, but let's just say the chase is better than the catch.

They've recut Caligula. They could've made it shorter, but it's longer, clocking 3 hours. The point is, is it better? Surely it is, I mean everyone hated the original. There's still sex, blood and violence, but some of the OTT porn is gone and in fact I'm lead to believe that nothing from the original remains, this is all edited from scratch, from the original rushes, with additional CGI trickery to cover some of the many issues from the '79 version. Rome A. D. 37, a young Caligula (Malcolm McDowell) is a paranoid type. Protected by privilege and decadence, he's too much time on his hands. Time to fret about those who may try to harm him and time to sleep with his sister Drusilla (Teresa Ann Savoy). It's still not a particularly easy film to watch. Caligula is mocked by his aging and dying grandfather, the emperor Tiberius (Peter O'Toole) while he swims with dozens of naked people. He's a terrible role model, showing the impressionable youngster a world of vice. Considering this was panned due to its gratuitous sex scenes, this recut really doesn't fix that. It's clear that although most of the cast and crew disowned it, they knew what they were shooting. Caligula is hungry for power, hungry to see the back of the old guard like Nerva (John Gielgud). He see's what's coming, the sadistic nature of the powers that be and future of Rome. Not that we see an awful lot of Rome. This all largely takes place in carefully crafted mostly internal darkly lit sets. Which is probably just as well with the cast naked half the time. Wresting the emperors ring from his thought to be dead hand, Caligula finally tastes what he's been chasing, but is too cowardly to see the job through. That is left to the muscle, Macro (Guido Mannari). Setting forth a new era, hailed by the ominous early synth score. There's some arrestingly iconic shots for sure and McDowell conveys an entire world in that expressive face, but bloody hell this is still a slog. If it weren't for McDowell carrying this it would be excruciating. The best thing I can say about this is, watching McDowell's performance convey the power that begins to corse through Caligula. From his childlike cowardice to full blown corrupt madman, it's quite a transformation and he's quite mesmeric. For all its pomposity, there's some scenes that really ought to have been cut completely though. They serve little to the story but to shock. It shows no nuance at all, it's one very long decent into cinematic debauchery. Any film that reduces Helen Mirren (as Caesonia) into little more than yet another naked body, is pretty inexcusable. The only particularly likeable character is Longinus (John Steiner), he's the only one with anything close to a reasonable IQ. There's one shot, around the 2 and a half hour mark where he exchanges a quiet look with Chaerea (Paolo Bonacelli), as if to say, can you believe they're actually filming this!? So, is it an improvement? Well I can't recall much of its predecessor, it's been mercifully erased from memory, so yes. It's still indulgent though. Often dull. Occasionally shocking and seldom entertaining, but that doesn't make it a bad film. It doesn't make it a great film either, but it's better than mere porn it's excused of. I can't decide if I like it, it has too much of an air of foley, mimicking Caligula's. I don't hate it though and if you're so inclined it's worth a watch.

Well this is... sprawling. Typically confusing and mysterious as it begins, but boy is it beautiful. Robert (Jesse Plemons) is meticulous, wealthy, anxious... about something. Something making him sad and reflective. His boss, Raymond (Willem Dafoe) is overbearing, controlling. Ridiculously so. Their's is a world of high-rise offices, expensive suits, clean modern living. Their relationship is uncomfortable. Raymond has an unusual task for Robert, one that he's very insistent on, putting Robert in an absurd situation. Absurd is a good word for this. And both Plemons and Dafoe are perfect for its delivery. Both masters of understated menace, this packs a real charge as we find that this is only the latest request in a series that has shaped Roberts life, a life that's about to take a dramatic turn. Dark and stark, it's captivating as Robert tries to unravel his maddening desperation, that leads him to Rita (Emma Stone). Honestly it's rather brilliant and I'd like to delve in further, but after barely an hour, it's over.

That's because this is the first part of a tryptic of stories. I won't lie, it feels jarring. Just as you're immersed into one world, you're ripped out of it and thrust into another. In the next more Cronenbergian universe Plemons is a cop. His recently missing wife (Stone) returns, but something isn't right. The themes of dark awkwardness continue as the dissonant piano stabs in the background. It's intriguing as Plemons' world once again unravels and it certainly has some arresting moments, but the story isn't as gripping, although it's certainly more gory... and dogs really should be in charge.

The third jump doesn't feel as disorientating, but make no mistake, it's no less bizarre. Stone and Plemons (got a nice ring to it) are looking for someone special. They are Emily and Andrew, part of cult like commune, obsessed with sex and water, headed by Omi (Dafoe). Emily is torn though between this life tearing around in a Dodge Charger on a mission and her old one, with her family. When things go wrong, as they inevitably do in all these stories, she's desperate to complete the mission and make things right... if indeed her perception of right, is right. There's very little that tangibly holds these three stories together. I'm sure I could rationalise it in some way through the mysterious RMF character (Yorgos Stefanskos), but this really is something you need to make your own mind up about. This isn't Lanthimos' best film by any stretch, but it's better than many reviews give it credit and well worth a watch if you like stylishly confusing films, beautifully shot and wonderfully acted.

A whistle stop history lesson accompanying the opening credits, teaches us (if you didn't already know) the main touch points of the forming of Israel. Actually I think most people probably don't know do they. If you don't though, please dig deeper than this film. Still, it's dense. Sides forming, violence increasing. It's here that we meet Shoshana (Irina Starshenbaum). She's part of the more liberal open-minded Israel, but a more hard-line politics is growing. Men young and old, Jewish and Arab. All looking to further their cause. It's a three sided battle, to start at least and Shoshana finds herself in the middle. The English are still in charge of the region, which is how we meet young army officers like Geoffrey Morton (Harry Melling) and Shoshana's love interest policeman Thomas (Douglas Booth). It looks good, period detail, believably cast, but it's clunky in its set up. Granted it's a complicated story to nail down in a couple of hours and it certainly doesn't pull any punches, but this is not a good film. Nobody comes out particularly well, least of all the British. This is essentially the story of them buggering up the Balfour Declaration, whilst masking it in the mirrored complexity of Shoshana's love life. She's the soul female voice of reason and common sense again to start at least, in a world of warring men with misguided ideals. It's not a pleasant watch. You've got to ask yourself does this portray the narrative well and accurately. It's difficult to watch it as pure cinema. The real life events hold too much weight. It's effective in bringing the past to life, but it's dramatic retelling was always going not feel lacking. That said the levels of complexity are undoubtably compelling. It's just a shame that this chooses to lean in directions that don't feel anywhere near rounded enough, it's undercooked and with a subject like this, that's pretty unforgivable.