TheBigSick
Joined May 2015
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"His Three Daughters" isn't just another family drama; it's a deeply moving and incredibly authentic exploration of the bonds, conflicts, and complexities that tie a father and his three adult daughters together. From the opening scene, the film pulls you in with its raw honesty and refuses to let go until the credits roll.
The heart of this film lies in its phenomenal performances. Each actress brings a unique depth and nuance to their respective roles as the three sisters. They embody the familiar dynamics of sibling relationships: the shared history, the unspoken resentments, the fierce love that underlies even the sharpest disagreements. You'll recognize bits of your own family in their interactions, which is a testament to both the brilliant writing and the actresses' commitment to portraying their characters with such vulnerability.
And then there's the father. His portrayal is nothing short of masterful. He navigates the complexities of his role with a quiet strength, conveying a lifetime of unspoken emotions through subtle gestures and carefully chosen words. He's not perfect, and the film doesn't shy away from his flaws, but it's his evident love for his daughters, however imperfectly expressed, that forms the emotional core of the story.
The brilliance of "His Three Daughters" is in its commitment to authenticity. The dialogue feels natural and unforced, capturing the way real families talk - the inside jokes, the shorthand, the painful truths that are sometimes easier to avoid than confront. The film doesn't offer easy answers or tidy resolutions. Instead, it delves into the messiness of life and relationships, showcasing the power of forgiveness, understanding, and the enduring strength of familial love, even in the face of hardship.
While the film is nearly flawless in its execution, it's this reviewer's opinion that the pacing, perhaps, could have been slightly tightened. There are moments that linger just a touch too long. A small deduction, but enough to knock the final number down just a hair.
However, that minor quibble aside, "His Three Daughters" is a triumph. It's a film that will stay with you long after the credits roll, prompting reflection on your own relationships and reminding you of the importance of cherishing the people who matter most. It's a testament to the power of human connection and a must-see for anyone who appreciates deeply human stories told with extraordinary skill.
Final Verdict: 9/10 - A powerful, moving, and beautifully acted film that's sure to resonate with audiences of all ages. An absolute gem!
The heart of this film lies in its phenomenal performances. Each actress brings a unique depth and nuance to their respective roles as the three sisters. They embody the familiar dynamics of sibling relationships: the shared history, the unspoken resentments, the fierce love that underlies even the sharpest disagreements. You'll recognize bits of your own family in their interactions, which is a testament to both the brilliant writing and the actresses' commitment to portraying their characters with such vulnerability.
And then there's the father. His portrayal is nothing short of masterful. He navigates the complexities of his role with a quiet strength, conveying a lifetime of unspoken emotions through subtle gestures and carefully chosen words. He's not perfect, and the film doesn't shy away from his flaws, but it's his evident love for his daughters, however imperfectly expressed, that forms the emotional core of the story.
The brilliance of "His Three Daughters" is in its commitment to authenticity. The dialogue feels natural and unforced, capturing the way real families talk - the inside jokes, the shorthand, the painful truths that are sometimes easier to avoid than confront. The film doesn't offer easy answers or tidy resolutions. Instead, it delves into the messiness of life and relationships, showcasing the power of forgiveness, understanding, and the enduring strength of familial love, even in the face of hardship.
While the film is nearly flawless in its execution, it's this reviewer's opinion that the pacing, perhaps, could have been slightly tightened. There are moments that linger just a touch too long. A small deduction, but enough to knock the final number down just a hair.
However, that minor quibble aside, "His Three Daughters" is a triumph. It's a film that will stay with you long after the credits roll, prompting reflection on your own relationships and reminding you of the importance of cherishing the people who matter most. It's a testament to the power of human connection and a must-see for anyone who appreciates deeply human stories told with extraordinary skill.
Final Verdict: 9/10 - A powerful, moving, and beautifully acted film that's sure to resonate with audiences of all ages. An absolute gem!
Colson Whitehead's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Nickel Boys, a harrowing tale of abuse at a reform school during the Jim Crow era, deserved a cinematic adaptation that captured its potent grief and unflinching brutality. Unfortunately, RaMell Ross's film adaptation falls tragically short, not due to its faithful rendering of the narrative, but because of a deeply misguided and ultimately crippling approach to cinematography that renders the story practically incomprehensible.
The film follows Elwood Curtis, a bright and idealistic young black man wrongly sentenced to the Nickel Academy, a supposed institution of learning that is, in reality, a breeding ground for sadism and racial violence. We witness the horrors through Elwood's eyes, alongside his more cynical companion, Turner. However, witnessing these horrors is a frustratingly difficult task, thanks to Ross's baffling stylistic choices.
Instead of establishing a sense of place and allowing the audience to breathe in the suffocating atmosphere of Nickel, the film throws us into a relentless barrage of close-ups. Faces fill the frame, disembodied and divorced from their surroundings, leaving us with no context for their expressions or the environment that informs them. This constant proximity might have been effective in creating intimacy if it wasn't paired with a dizzying array of first-person perspectives.
We're thrust into the shoes of various characters, often with no clear indication of who we're supposed to be inhabiting. The camera becomes an erratic, disorienting stand-in for the eyes of the boys, sometimes even inexplicably positioned to stare at the back of Elwood's head. This technique, presumably intended to immerse us in the characters' subjective experiences, achieves the opposite effect. It detaches us, leaving us scrambling to understand basic spatial relationships and the narrative flow.
The result is a chaotic, disorienting mess. Scenes that should be emotionally impactful are reduced to a jumble of fragmented images. Key moments of violence are obscured by the shaky, often illegible camerawork. The film's attempts at conveying the psychological toll of trauma are lost in the visual clutter. It's as if the filmmakers were so determined to avoid a conventional approach that they forgot the fundamental purpose of cinematography: to tell a story visually.
While the performances from the young cast are commendable, particularly Ethan Herisse as Elwood, their efforts are ultimately undermined by the film's impenetrable style. "The Nickel Boys" had the potential to be a powerful and necessary piece of cinema, but it is ultimately undone by its own cinematic excesses. Instead of illuminating Whitehead's devastating story, the film buries it under a mountain of ill-conceived visual choices, leaving the audience lost in the dark, struggling to see the tragedy unfolding before them. It's a film that tragically fails to understand that sometimes, less truly is more.
The film follows Elwood Curtis, a bright and idealistic young black man wrongly sentenced to the Nickel Academy, a supposed institution of learning that is, in reality, a breeding ground for sadism and racial violence. We witness the horrors through Elwood's eyes, alongside his more cynical companion, Turner. However, witnessing these horrors is a frustratingly difficult task, thanks to Ross's baffling stylistic choices.
Instead of establishing a sense of place and allowing the audience to breathe in the suffocating atmosphere of Nickel, the film throws us into a relentless barrage of close-ups. Faces fill the frame, disembodied and divorced from their surroundings, leaving us with no context for their expressions or the environment that informs them. This constant proximity might have been effective in creating intimacy if it wasn't paired with a dizzying array of first-person perspectives.
We're thrust into the shoes of various characters, often with no clear indication of who we're supposed to be inhabiting. The camera becomes an erratic, disorienting stand-in for the eyes of the boys, sometimes even inexplicably positioned to stare at the back of Elwood's head. This technique, presumably intended to immerse us in the characters' subjective experiences, achieves the opposite effect. It detaches us, leaving us scrambling to understand basic spatial relationships and the narrative flow.
The result is a chaotic, disorienting mess. Scenes that should be emotionally impactful are reduced to a jumble of fragmented images. Key moments of violence are obscured by the shaky, often illegible camerawork. The film's attempts at conveying the psychological toll of trauma are lost in the visual clutter. It's as if the filmmakers were so determined to avoid a conventional approach that they forgot the fundamental purpose of cinematography: to tell a story visually.
While the performances from the young cast are commendable, particularly Ethan Herisse as Elwood, their efforts are ultimately undermined by the film's impenetrable style. "The Nickel Boys" had the potential to be a powerful and necessary piece of cinema, but it is ultimately undone by its own cinematic excesses. Instead of illuminating Whitehead's devastating story, the film buries it under a mountain of ill-conceived visual choices, leaving the audience lost in the dark, struggling to see the tragedy unfolding before them. It's a film that tragically fails to understand that sometimes, less truly is more.
Hard Truths isn't a film you watch, it's a film you experience. Director Mike Leigh has crafted a gut-wrenching, emotionally resonant masterpiece that lingers long after the credits roll. This is a film that demands your attention, grappling with depression and anxiety with a rawness and authenticity rarely seen on screen.
The performances are, quite simply, phenomenal. Marianne Jean-Baptiste delivers a career-defining performance as the struggling protagonist, their portrayal etched with pain and vulnerability that feels achingly real. The supporting cast is equally strong, creating a tapestry of characters that feel lived-in and undeniably human. You'll find yourself deeply invested in their struggles, their triumphs, and their heartbreaks. The dialogue crackles with authenticity, eschewing melodrama for the harsh, often unspoken truths that define complicated family dynamics.
The narrative unfolds with a deliberate pace, allowing the weight of each scene to sink in. Mike Leigh uses silence masterfully, creating an atmosphere thick with tension and unspoken emotion. There are moments of quiet devastation that will leave you breathless, and flashes of unexpected tenderness that offer glimmers of hope amidst the darkness.
However, the film's near-perfection is slightly marred by one noticeable flaw: the production design. While the cinematography is superb, capturing the bleak beauty of house, the sets themselves feel strangely under-dressed. The family home, in particular, lacks the lived-in quality that the rest of the film so meticulously establishes. Rooms appear too sparse, almost sterile, with a noticeable absence of the clutter and personal touches that accumulate in a real family's living space. This disconnect, however minor, pulls you out of the otherwise immersive world the film creates. It's a shame, because the realism of the environment should be mirroring the rawness of the narrative.
Despite this visual misstep, Hard Truths remains a powerful and unforgettable film. Its unflinching portrayal of depression and anxiety and the extraordinary performances alone are enough to warrant high praise. This is a film that will stay with you, prompting difficult conversations and leaving you deeply moved. Just be prepared to overlook the oddly empty rooms and focus on the heart-wrenching story unfolding within them.
Verdict: A must-see film, even if the set dresser could have used a few more knick-knacks.
The performances are, quite simply, phenomenal. Marianne Jean-Baptiste delivers a career-defining performance as the struggling protagonist, their portrayal etched with pain and vulnerability that feels achingly real. The supporting cast is equally strong, creating a tapestry of characters that feel lived-in and undeniably human. You'll find yourself deeply invested in their struggles, their triumphs, and their heartbreaks. The dialogue crackles with authenticity, eschewing melodrama for the harsh, often unspoken truths that define complicated family dynamics.
The narrative unfolds with a deliberate pace, allowing the weight of each scene to sink in. Mike Leigh uses silence masterfully, creating an atmosphere thick with tension and unspoken emotion. There are moments of quiet devastation that will leave you breathless, and flashes of unexpected tenderness that offer glimmers of hope amidst the darkness.
However, the film's near-perfection is slightly marred by one noticeable flaw: the production design. While the cinematography is superb, capturing the bleak beauty of house, the sets themselves feel strangely under-dressed. The family home, in particular, lacks the lived-in quality that the rest of the film so meticulously establishes. Rooms appear too sparse, almost sterile, with a noticeable absence of the clutter and personal touches that accumulate in a real family's living space. This disconnect, however minor, pulls you out of the otherwise immersive world the film creates. It's a shame, because the realism of the environment should be mirroring the rawness of the narrative.
Despite this visual misstep, Hard Truths remains a powerful and unforgettable film. Its unflinching portrayal of depression and anxiety and the extraordinary performances alone are enough to warrant high praise. This is a film that will stay with you, prompting difficult conversations and leaving you deeply moved. Just be prepared to overlook the oddly empty rooms and focus on the heart-wrenching story unfolding within them.
Verdict: A must-see film, even if the set dresser could have used a few more knick-knacks.