lasttimeisaw

"THE OTHER SIDE OF HOPE is a bifurcating story about a young Syrian asylum seeker Khaled Ali (Sherwan Haji) and Waldemar Wikström (Kuosmanen), a middle-aged local career-changing restauranteur, both want to start their lives anew, but life is not fair, Wikström can scoop a sizable fortune overnight in a poker game whereas Ali's heart-rending plea has zero chance to pass the bureaucratic flintiness. But their paths eventually are crossed, comedic episodes alternate with dramatic occurrences (the restaurant's inutile attempt to wheel out Japanese cuisine is a total gas!), the big reunion of Ali and his sister Miriam (played by Sherwan's own sister Niroz) pays off grandly without falling into a drippy trap, Ali trusts Miriam's decision to apply for asylum seeker even though he knows from experience it is a tall order, and the ambivalent coda (with the racism and identitarian menace remains the bane for an immigrant) is marvelously touched up by a canine tenderness, which also crops up in FALLEN LEAVES."

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"FALLEN LEAVES is a romance, but with a difference, Ansa (Pöysti) and Holappa (Vatanen) are two working-class lonesome souls in their late 30s or early 40s. She is a zero-hour contract employee in a supermarket and he is a sandblaster, neither manages to keep it for too long, but at least in Finland, they are not distressed about seeking a new job. As a matter of fact, distress is something one can hardly detect in Kaurismäki's corpus. No matter how dire and miserable the situations are, his actors's poker face remains immutably impenetrable, and unlike "a deadpan look", Kaurismäki's trademark expression betrays no self-consciousness. His "subtraction" of emotions through impassivity and stillness of the body language is an acquired taste, but in FALLEN LEAVES, it reaches a form of abstraction, a simplicity, as we watch Ansa and Holappa masterfully code their intentions and thoughts barely pulling a facial muscle, it is droll, but also amazingly candid. Both Pöysti and Vatanen are real finds, especially the former, accessorizing her performative reduction with an evocative aroma of tristesse and resilience."

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"Without emplacing too many turn-ups for the books, THE PASSENGER earnestly invests its time and attention in carving out Randy's new-found confidence in dissuading Benson from doing something irrational and violent. There are moments when it seems they can be quite a perfect fit because each is beneficent to the other, and maybe, a new lease on life can be granted even to a mortal sinner like Benson. Such fancy is punctured when a facile, workaday suicide-by-cop solution transpires in the end, and we still have no inkling what makes Benson such an enormity. As if people like him do not deserve salvation after all the effort the film endeavors to convince us he is not the impersonation of pure evil. Compared to Randy, Benson is the one who is more hurt for a savior, it is a pity Randy and the film fall by the wayside."

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"Another delicate and deliciously unfolded masculine interconnection is between Benjamin and Rich, an old queer who smacks his lips all over the former's Adonis physique (full-front nudity is a must). The gamesmanship between a predator and his prey, and how the table is eventually turned. SWALLOWED is awash with such racy innuendos, like Dom's prolonged erection as a side effect of the leaking drug (a close-up of Benjamin swallowing his saliva is a nifty tease), or Benjamin's fist work to extract the condoms from Dom's anus (thankfully, the film's coprophiliac predilection doesn't really aim for verisimilitude), all play up to salve the thirst of the film's demographic. Koch makes a good introduction as a new queer leading man, but Malone's Alice getting fridged unceremoniously is a letdown. She is tough-as-nail, her maternal solicitude only gets exuded gradually, and should be given more agency to operate."

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"Among the young cast, Wood's bullied pipsqueak Casey is the underdog hero, who is rewarded with the pretty cheerleader Delilah (Brewster), after the latter ditching her jock boyfriend Stan (Hatosy), who gives up playing football and in turn, is taken by DuVall's Stokely, a straight girl using the queer label to keep unwanted attention at bay, a regressive and regrettable contrivance can pass muster anymore. Then, there is Hartnett's Zeke, a paradox of small crime and high intellect, rather a blue-sky invention than a credible character. However, that doesn't stop him from being the best in show, especially when he is faced with Janssen's Miss Burke, whose from-mousy-to-bossy about-face accentuates his cool-guy appeal and a wry resignation."

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"However, once the film starts rolling around our final girl Sidney Prescott (an incredibly ballsy and unfazed Campbell), Craven tweaks the dread spread with something of a tonal shift. With Sidney and her friend Tatum (a feisty McGowan) in a resilient fighting mode, the "ghostface" killer loses the menacing omnipresence so intrinsically linked to the masked Michael Myers in John Carpenter's HALLOWEEN (1978), sometimes, he even seems ridiculously clodhopping in action. A subplot about a meet-cute between career-driven journalist Gale Weathers (Cox, who is relentlessly assertive and knows how to take a shiner) and goofy deputy sheriff Dewey Riley (Arquette, what a babe!) is another efficacious comic relief. Ergo, by diffusing these terror-inducing elements and the graphic goriness, SCREAM cleverly resuscitates a second wind to the stock genre, a teen horror can be both funny and scary, and it hits the jackpot!"

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"The irreconcilable chasm between a curious and intelligent son and his mulish and jerkwater-minded father comes to a head in the climax, and their final showdown is visualized in distinct constraint and asperity, its physical tension and emotional strain is almost unbearable. Throughout the entire film, it becomes a knee-jerking reaction for a father to hit his insubordinate son, also results in one of the lasting images from PADRE PADRONE, with Gavino resting his head on Efisio's knees, and the latter's hand raising up aloft.

Taviani brothers's film earns its import for being a fervid advocate of the then unorthodox rejection of patriarchy and paternalism, the land of Sardinia is poetically and lyrically limned with a superb pastoral pastel. Both Antonutti and Marconi are fine performers, the former actually evokes a remarkable impression of Efisio's interiority out of his rough-hewn designation. Only Marcella Michelangeli's role as the matriarch is silenced and relegated to the sideline, it is rather odd she doesn't try to mediate between the two men like any Italian mother will. "

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"COPYCAT makes for a rapt viewing chiefly because of the excellent performances from the two leads. Weaver has that rousing stoical manfulness that could cow any man into capitulation, yet there is no trace of pretension or arrogance can be read on Helen's face, alternating eloquently between a professional and a victim, and sharing genuine bonhomie with Hunter, who makes a good fist of complementing Weaver's lofty stature with a dogged intensity both in her comportment and her action. At the same M. J. must ward off the micro-aggression being the only female inspector among her colleagues. Hunter navigates a delicate but totally credible way to imprint Helen's alterity on viewer's head space without falling back on stereotypes or platitudes (just watch the way she worms the truth out of a fellow policeman about who has arrived first on the crime scene, she is not just whip-smart, she has incomparable tact as well)."

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"SINGLE WHITE FEMALE has NYC's grandiose, beaux-arts Ansonia edifice as its main setting (with the interior of its apartment colored in a dark blue, sinister register as if it is underwater), where lives Alison Jones (Fonda, in her pixie-cut fashion plate glamour), a natty software designer. After kicking out her unfaithful boyfriend Sam (Weber), she is charmed by a new roommate Hedy Carlson (Leigh), a dowdy, seemingly unaggressive girl who will, in due time, become her worst nightmare. Hedy's obsession of Alison shows evidence of genuine psychopathology, losing the sense of boundary, becoming clingy and possessive, imitating Alison's wardrobe and coiffure, a deranged Hedy will stop at nothing to turn Alison into her dead twin sister. Along the way, noisome members of the sterner sex will be duly if unrealistically snuffed until it is down to a catfight between these two besties to duke it out."

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"She is driven by a strange fascination for Catharine, voluntarily putting herself between her and her new prey, French hotelier Paul Nuytten (Frey), only to be used as an incentive to prompt him to marry Catharine, a rather cunning move on the latter's part. Catharine is no ordinary femme fatale, her friendship with Alexandra might be plastic, her fang isn't, psychology-and-toxicology savvy, she can "almost" alway gets she wants. "Almost" is the operative word here. Her only misstep is that when she could do away with Alexandra in a freaky scuba-diving accident (or with malice aforethought), she thinks better of it. Chances are if Alexandra comes clean to Paul, it will upset Catharine's apple cart, that is exactly what happens, hubris is her Achilles heel. Although, the twist in the end feels more like a deus ex machina than an effectively engineered entrapment. Winger and Russell call forth enough appeal as both are cognizant of each other's disguises and true motives, with the latter leaving a more emphatically inscrutable patina of mystique that pips the former's conflicted interiority."

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"Skirting around the more practical aspects of their lives, SCRAPPER ends with a chipper note that folds parentification into parenthood after the two reconcile their feelings and reservations. However, by making light of Georgie and Jason's precarious state, SCRAPPER risks to be pegged as another quixotical fairytale, injecting a life-affirming shot to audience's arm instead of providing something useful which can better their lives. Bicycle-filching isn't an ideal meal ticket, once caught, Jason might forfeit his guardianship and what woeful fate would befall a headstrong Georgia, one could only imagine."

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"Punctuating her film with MiniDV footage of the vacation (among which, a prolonged one directing at the television informs us Calum's pursuance of mindfulness despite his taedium vitae, also clarifies what Sophie perceives as his weird, slow ninja move is actually him playing tai chi) and a present-time rave party bursting with strobing lights where an adult Sophie (Rowlson-Hall) trying and then failing to connect with a phantom Calum, lost in the starburst, Wells juxtaposes the misalignment between memory and expectation to compose an infinitely touching ode to her father, and by extension, to all fathers, especially those younger ones who struggles to find their footing in the world."

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"As per Tarantino's penchant, JACKIE BROWN is awash with dialogues rambling on and on, most eloquently symbolized by Jackson's ponytailed (and later unloosed), braided-goateed Ordell, whose vicious streak becomes a persistent undertone beneath his street-gang verbiage. Whether he is chewing the fat with his slightly-obtuse cohort Louis Gara (De Niro, cast against the type), or talking shop with the cool-as-the-cucumber bail bondsman Max Cherry (Forster), he is vigilant as a squirrel, slippery as a snake and heartless as an ice icicle. Therefore, one finds it difficult to credit Ordell would so tactlessly rise to the bait in the climax, although his downfall is exactly what audience expects, the script doesn't prepare us for such an expedient method, which may be viewed as a cop-out by some, since plot intricacy is Tarantino's forte."

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"In Oslo, Signe (Thorp) and Thomas (Sæther) is a young couple bound in a toxic relationship. Signe is the often ignored one while Thomas is a rising artist with a kleptomaniac penchant. Working as a barista and desperate needs validation, Signe's antics to get attention, including stealing the limelight from the self-absorbed Thomas, become increasing awkward and radical. From faking an allergy to voluntarily abusing a drug which can cause skin abnormality, Signe finally gets what she wants, attentions not only from Thomas, but also from the society at large. Her dysmorphia - a thunderstruck achievement from the make-up and prosthetics team (headed by Dimitra Drakopoulou and Ida Astero Welle), she shall be roundly cast in the re-re-booted Fantastic Four from Marvel - attains its newsworthy coverage and gets her a modeling opportunity for an unorthodox agency, but all is not well, the drug's pernicious effect begins to take a toll on her health. Borgli's satire takes an ambivalently unregenerate stance in the end after Signe comes clean with her self-destructive jiggery-pokery."

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"The dubious, low-light Venetian setting doesn't fool anyone's eyes, most of the earlier films are tarnished with that backlot-bound plasticity. Later, what appears to be a mansion for Mariette Colet (Francis), owner of the famous perfume manufacturer Colet and Co., looks fairly spartan for her wealth. Walls are barely unembellished, rooms look prefabricated, furnitures are minimally emplaced. Borrowing fineries and jewelries to dazzle on the screen is one thing, constructing a de-facto rich person's abode certainly is another. So what Lubitsch and co. Has done is to be prudently economical about what does and what doesn't need to be shown. For example, risqué, intimate moments can be indicated through the elapse of time, shadow play is employed to show a passionate necking, all without sacrificing a tenor of sophistication and subtlety (have you espied Gaston's hot-to-trot gestures towards Mariette's pearly necklace, which can competently account for whether or not he falls for her and why he has changed the original plan). That is the gist of 'Lubitsch touch', as if Lubitsch executes the picture in cruise control, every plot device appears seamless and unhurried, even duplicity cannot dissipate the swooning nature of these elegant people."

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"In A SOUL HAUNTED BY PAINTING, Huang's chronological narrative makes light of Yuliang the artist, audience is none the wiser where her talent comes from, how her skill and style is nurtured and developed, her latter days in France is merely sketchily touched on. In lieu, the film is predominantly keen on showing up the injustice inflicted on her as a woman. From the horror in the bordello, she is no longer a virgo intacta (ravished by her pimp) and obliviously drugged to be sterile even before her very first client, to the wrongs piled on her after gaining fame for her paintings abroad when she is constantly at the receiving end of sexism and male chauvinism."

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"Therefore, Zhang Yimou condenses the major emotional impact to the tentative, heartwarming interactions between Yanshi and Wanyu, and both Chen Daoming and Gong Li swing for the fences with all their might and COMING HOME is a potent showcase for these two beloved thespians, both giving powerhouse performances, especially Gong Li, who has attained the stratospheric naturalness where artificial acting dissolving vanishingly into every line, expression, gesticulation and movement. Regard the way every time Chen Daoming's expectant gaze turns despondent, you can see the spark literally extinguished in his eyes, a feat conciliated appositely by Gong Li's unfeigned befuddlement, from which you can read behind her blurred memory, and she even rings the changes attuned to Wanyu's unpredictable states, including baring the bane of her misfortune in vehement defense."

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"If a substantial frisson is wanting, and some of Julie's murderous methods are rather far-fetched (locking someone in a closet to die from asphyxiation is a novel idea!), the film nonetheless compensates it with Moreau in one of her most restrained roles. Nearly 40 then and down in the mouth, her beauty starts to fade but Truffaut is sensible enough to arm her with fetching coiffure and attires (exclusively in black or white). Julie is an avenging angel whose heart has died with her beloved husband, Moreau registers that flicker of hesitation when Julie is courted by a seemingly earnest Fergus (Denner is such a hard-hitting seducer), a glimpse of resuscitated hope reflected in her eyes as if it spawns a seed in her dead heart. The scene sublimely suggests that Julie is offered a new lease on life if she is willing to bury her past, will she take it? Moreau lets that impression go neither unnoticed nor overboard, such blink-and-you-will-miss-it precision is high-wire attainment."

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"The whole process is fascinating, Picasso starts drawing with ink on a piece of white paper, meantime Clouzot sets the camera angling at the backside of the paper, with the ink bleeding through the paper, thus audience can watch the whole process with nearly real-time veracity in its mirror image. Gradually, he adds oil paint and collages onto the canvas, and his works become more and more variegated and elaborate. To save time (one painting takes Picasso several hours to finish), Clouzot effects a stop-motion-like technique to demonstrate how a Picasso's painting evolves and transmogrifies with his quirky brushstrokes to a transcendent end result, and how the same painting can morph into another with a multifaceted truly, seeing is believing."

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"How much has Françoise gained from Picasso, career-wise, is left untapped in SURVIVING PICASSO, there is mentioning of promoting her works in passing, but the toil of unconditionally subsuming herself into his life raises a red flag for all comers. Picasso is unqualifiedly self-centered, his needs and whims are of utmost primacy. Perpetually, Françoise's life must be orbited around his and she should always be at the beck and call of his dictates, and that doesn't mean she is enough for him. Picasso is always on the lookout for new muses in the name of inspiration, that could leave those women with a permanent scar, like his first wife Olga Khokhlova (Lapotaire), a member of the looney tunes, or an embittered Dora Maar (Moore, sporting an Eastern European accent standoffishly and fiddling with mumblety-peg manically); then there is Marie-Thérèse Walter (Harker), who is able to keep her marbles, yet still pointedly proprietorial when she sees a newcomer getting his favor."

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"In the leading part, Barrymore has the task of impersonating an elder woman to evade police's suspicion and avails himself of his prowess to carry off the trick, only his slightly rusty high-pitch voice sounds a shade grating for its unnatural exertion. Maureen O'Sullivan is ably eloquent as Paul's embittered and misunderstood daughter, but our amazement cannot be diverted from Rafaela Ottiano's Malita, a mad scientist type gussied up like the daughter borne out of the bride of Frankenstein and count Dracula, maxing out her deranged expressions like nobody's business. Only if her final attempt to shrink Paul were viable, the film would've been more divertingly twist and unconventionally brilliant, unlike the mushy ending we are stuck with, a father's unconditional but paternalistic love for his daughter is a self-important sacrifice of the highest water."

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"Scandalizing the world with the never-seen-before display of sideshow performers with disabilities, FREAKS challenges audience to look straight at those unfortunate, malformed human beings, and hopefully our involuntary uneasiness or even disgust to their physiognomical otherness can be desensitized when we look at them longer (for one thing, baby-faced adult dwarves are lodestone to observe because of their contradictions in display) and get to know their characters better, empathizing with their full emotional gamut. It is intrinsic that FREAKS is ordained to be niggled for exploitation, but there is no other right way to introduce those "freaks" to the world audience without simply setting them up in the epicenter, showing them as they are without concession. If you feel revolted by that, you shall go under some introspection of your own prejudice."

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"Bursting with retro-flair, bisexual lighting, hallucinogenic ambience and later, spectral visitations, LAST NIGHT IN SOHO's greatest asset is its visual pageantry, Wright also dazzles audience with his prestidigitation of mirror illusions, juxtaposing Eloise and Sandie in the same frame. The script has enough juice to entice viewers and leave them hooked, but slacks off in the second half, resorting to dispatch a key character with a random car accident, also the scenes in the police office have no correlation to the main story, might better be left in the editing room. McKenzie comports herself well with a babe-in-the-woods alacrity, and Taylor-Joy nails the glamour puss to a T!"

Read my full review on my blog: Cinema Omnivore, please google it, thanks.

"While THE MENU consciously pulls punch with the violent elements (finger-chopping and a death-dealing scuffle in the kitchen is all she wrote), it plays more like a discomfiting mind game which reflects on today's hoity-toity and pretentious fad in gastronomy, it is no longer the taste buds the industry strives for gratify, but a certain illusive feel-goodism under the disguise of a granola slant and exotic curiosity.

However, as a film, THE MENU aims high but hits merely in the middle, wielding its "punish the rich" flag, it never induces audience to cease questioning about the credibility of the whole nine yards, not to mention a trite episode of false hope to temporarily ginger up the somber mood. Just like the people it is leveled to mock and chide, Mylod's film is colored by its own pretension, appropriating omnipotence to state its point, it is too neat to strike a chord."

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"Economically dispensing his resource, Hu Bo accomplishes a cinéma-vérité veracity that completely reconciles his characters with their surroundings in conjunction with post-rock band Hua Lun's evocative, moody score. DP Fan Chao's camera doggedly shadows the four main characters, the undivided focal point of the shallow focus and protracted gaze, often on a dime, some sequence are clearly shot in stealth. The deliberately retricted view point also facilitates Hu to arrange several dramatic scenes off screen, like a vicious dog attack or a fatal fall off the staircase. Without resorting to editing or cutting, the camera allows audience to participate solely through the characters's expressions and reactions before granting a view of the upshots, a cinematic trick pulled off with seemingly effortless practicality."

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