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I kinda get the creative intentions of 'The Way' (essentially 'Torchwood: Children of Earth' / a serialised adaptation of 'Children of Men' set in Wales from a different team / production studio) but personally, I think Michael Sheen at the helm of the project is kinda what's continuously snagging for me (inhibiting the fruition of something intellectually nourishing - something it could've easily been), throughout - which is why (I've said it before & I'll vehemently say it again to stoically reiterate what I firmly believe) actors should just humbly stick to doing what they're great at (in front of the camera) & leave filmmaking to the experienced professionals (behind it - for good reason).

The basic fact is we can't be brilliant at everything (literally none of us, as talented as we may be in certain respective fields) & that's perfectly okay to admit. Jodie Foster, Zack Snyder, Simon Kinberg, Michael Sheen etc. (a growing list of undoubtedly skilled individuals who - for some reason - convince themselves they're additionally capable of doing everyone else's jobs, as well as their own) would therefore greatly benefit from putting aside their egos & having the humility to accept their brazen limitations. Let this be another shining example of that.

No, I'm being harsh (or am I?). On the one hand, I really appreciate what he's ambitiously attempting to artistically do (for a first time director, genuinely ain't too bad at all - granted, not exactly a ringing endorsement, I know - though the best I'm willing to honestly offer) & it's a refreshingly quirky approach that gives the series a sense of individualism / authenticity; using the somewhat retro (arguably even hyper-surrealistic), yet unmistakably distinctive style of something classic like "Threads" (capturing, maybe simultaneously heightening the existential anxiety people experienced in the 1980s - a palpable, dated cynicism & unease regarding our potential future that permeated media we consumed then, both in music, TV & film), re-contextualising the foreboding nihilism of the past (protest pieces, voicing general discontentment) for modern audiences to reflect a more relevant paranoia (than nuclear Armageddon) to communicate meaningful messages in the present as a social / political commentary (we could all currently relate to on an intimate / emotional level)... But on the other hand, although he's got some undeniably great ideas (in truth, far too many for a mere 3 hours), none of them really come together cohesively to form anything particularly satisfying to watch. We're merely viewing a disjointed collection of loosely connected plot threads, devoid of depth. Furthermore, the stakes continuously remain frustratingly absent (characters seldom have obstacles to overcome; everything just happens, the journey moves on to the next location; most conflict's borne from needless bickering) & again, I feel like a more seasoned director would be able to translate this assortment of plausibly fascinating thoughts (or a careful selection of the best on offer amongst a pile he enthusiastically created) to the screen in perhaps a superior, nuanced manner, doing justice to what's being depicted via a visual medium. Simply lacks the focus I'd usually associate from the mind of James Graham (which is odd) & although every writer is obviously fallible (they're only human; even our greatest authors have strewn together something less than what they're known to be capable of, from time to time), the half-baked, heavy-handedness of the execution of his concepts in this latest tale does merit particular acknowledgement, since it's so blatantly uncharacteristic to miss as much as he has. Consequently, I'm prompted to question why - or if it's caused by someone else's involvement.

The first episode's promising & relatively decent (theoretically, might have been better as a stand-alone 90 minute TV feature; one & done)... But by the 2nd & 3rd, the narrative sort of unfortunately crumbles, losing momentum (any direction whatsoever, in truth - meandering aimlessly) before burning itself out completely. Doesn't seem to know whether it wants to be or say by the dénouement; perchance an impassioned, grounded analysis of a broken, centralised political system (London neglecting rural Welsh / Scottish / Northern Irish communities in areas with different histories / cultures) - responsible for the disenfranchisement of an entire, younger, local population living across nations, meant to be united - (in which case, where is the exploration in to the lives of the organ grinders making these calls, not the monkeys?) & subsequently, what it would arguably take to uproot the oppressive institution via an act of revolution (could it even be done, in principle?)... Or a heartfelt portrayal of unresolved grief & the destructiveness of inherited, intergenerational trauma (visualised in an abstract, expressionistic fashion - jarringly conflicting with reality trying to be tonally emulated for dramatic effect) etc. Thematically, these are two extraordinarily different directions to advance one's trajectory in. Plus, the random Darth Vader subplot / twist adding nothing of value... There's too much going on, in spite of the few gorgeously contemplative moments interspersed across the dragged-out run-time.

I feel like Russell T. Davies is weaving an ingeniously inventive tapestry of fascinating tales that are being adapted to the screen by a bunch of people who (frustratingly) just continuously don't seem to understand the complexity of the narrative he's already established, after only four episodes?

In 'Wild Blue Yonder', our protagonist (the Doctor) thoughtlessly invoked a superstition at the edge of creation where the barrier between worlds was thin; lines firmly establishing reality from fiction were therefore blurred & consequently, what shouldn't have been theoretically possible before (in this universe) suddenly became increasingly likely (intentionally pushing the boundaries of sci-fi until one could reasonably describe it as fantasy - blending the two genres); bi-regeneration (acknowledged previously as a myth) inexplicably occurred for the first time in the show's 60+ year history, 'The Toymaker' (a godlike being whose very existence challenges our own sense of coherent logic) broke through in to this plane & there, he playfully exacerbated the problem by "toying with supernovas, turning galaxies in to spinning tops" etc. He even "gambled with god & made him a jack-in-the-box, made a jigsaw out of (the Doctor's) history" (additionally explaining the convoluted 'Timeless Child' arc - made possible by a plausible ripple of his tampering in this current plotline, reverberating back through the Time Lord's own linear chronology) & "sealed the Master for all eternity inside his golden tooth". What I'm trying to articulate is everything we're seeing now is arguably a direct ramification of that fleeting encounter on the ominously vacant ship Tennant & Catherine Tate's characters found themselves stranded on (after she carelessly dropped coffee on the TARDIS console); not only is everything we've witnessed an expansion of that founding idea, but the showrunner continues to mine the brilliant concept for all it's worth by realising more of the resultant potential here, in his latest Christmas Special, 'The Church on Ruby Road'.

How?

Well, in short... Goblins. Magical creatures the show never previously featured (for good reason - it would've been silly) demonstrably inhabit the realm of "Who" in the same way "the Daleks" do, from 2023 onwards (like it or not, it's a bold creative decision - making a swift divergence from everything we're accustomed to since the identity of the programme has evolved in to something recognisable, though distinctively unlike any predecessors). There, these pesky monsters manifestly ride the waves of time aboard a wonderfully nonsensical vessel (held together by the "language of rope" - another new thought - defying scientific law - we've to rapidly acquaint ourselves with), weaponising chance retrospectively to embed themselves in events - enough to form a strong, tangible connection & eventually steal people's babies - so their "King" can gluttonously feast upon them whilst his minions simultaneously sing camp songs about their endeavours... I know, absurd (intentionally).

What makes this really interesting is - as acknowledged in a small line of dialogue spoken by Ncuti Gatwa - all the bad luck his soon-to-be companion suffers (at the hands of life-forms who plague her recent days) is furthermore because of him; her trials & tribulations occur from intentional coincidence, made possible with hindsight - culminating to deliberately form these orchestrated circumstances... Coincidentally, only due to his prior actions (with another face) - conducted with no foresight (permitting the implausible to coincide with the comprehensible). Now, if one is to perhaps be tediously philosophical, you could actually argue the retrospectively manufactured coincidence could have subsequently been responsible for the installation of itself (a self perpetuating causal loop / predestination paradox, accountable for its former origins), rationalising the Doctor's behaviours (everything he's coincidentally done is in service of their artificial construction of aforementioned coincidence; binding him & Millie Gibson's "Ruby" together like magnetism - changing the rules for the specific purpose of piecing them in the same space)... However, I feel that robs him of necessary autonomy & renders him a rather passive bystander in his own emotional journey - yet there's so much nuance to be had & outstandingly unique stuff to be realised (addressing this mind-bending whimsicality) which isn't being acknowledged in the context of the installments... And for me, that's a shame.

Don't get me wrong, the outing's good... The realisation merely gives the inaccurate impression of simplicity when beneath the surface, there's anything but.

Don't know if it's Mark Tonderai's poor direction (repeatedly capturing sequences in a consecutive series of claustrophobic close-up / handheld shots, failing to visualise vital information or convey it concisely; scenes seldom have a sense of geography & Ruby's room isn't depicted, preceding her sudden disappearance for instance - reaffirming the noticeable shift in her absence. Plus, verbose editing, needlessly showing her dragging a ladder after spotting it when we could've just quickly cut to her reaching the roof, inferring her response to seeing the solution to her problem - maintaining a more satisfying momentum), the restrictive run-time or Russell's reliable tendency to approach an introductory script with tentative caution (he normally takes a while to get to properly know the characters he's created - hence, I've found the latter half of his seasons are always stronger, simply because he's closer to being certain of who they are & can lean more heavily upon assured foundations, once they've set) or a culmination of all these issues... But despite the adequacy, it could've been better.

Fair to say I'm not loving this new era of Zack Snyder's at the moment (producing content for a streaming service) & as both an audience / collective fan base, feel as though we're sadly seeing him go from one problematic extreme (a total lack of creative control; artistic power callously stripped from him - with brazen opportunism by Warner Bros at the time - in the wake of a family tragedy) to the other (no discernible over-sight during the production process whatsoever - resulting in the opposite).

Therefore, although not terrible (Part 1 - which this definitely seems like - genuinely isn't. Nevertheless, neither is the movie particularly good either)... I'm frustrated by such a demonstrably outstanding filmmaker settling for the continuous construction of uninspired & tedious mediocrity when I know him to be capable of far, far better.

I mean yeah, on the one hand, "Rebel Moon" is a vast improvement on "Army of The Dead" (though that's not saying much; the bar is in hell after his previous unmitigated disaster that failed to even meet the usual standard set, merely in terms of aesthetic quality), yet that's the only viable endorsement I can reasonably give because once again, it doesn't feel like he's actually challenging himself here.

Zack Snyder's basically provided us with his alternative take on "Star Wars" & that's exactly what this product is, in the simplest of terms... Zack Snyder's "Star Wars" - another copy + paste sci-fi franchise (you could recognise from countless other blockbusters / TV series), unoriginally put to the screen (with no attempt to hide the plagiarism) but with his signature visual style pasted over it - in an unconvincing attempt to assemble some form of uniqueness.

In fact, it's disheartening to witness a talented individual reduce their gift to what comes across as a cheap gimmick; lensing other genres through a bespoke, superficial Instagram filter that can be tailored mindlessly to fit each project, refusing to convey anything meaningful via the transference between stories.

Even the release of his latest feature feels akin to a desperate, fake imitation of "Justice League" (artificially endeavouring to capture that same demand / interest - borne from entirely different circumstances); rather than distributing his original cut (I can't understand why they'd withhold it intentionally now - Netflix is known to fritter away money so the notion they'd prefer a safer investment by first airing a more palatable version is utter nonsense), they're keeping it from us in the hopes of deliberately orchestrating another viral movement on social media, demanding his extended iteration... It's all so corporate & staged.

Is this his brand now?

French cinema again, man.

English & US filmmakers just honestly can't do it like they can; (not to generalise, but) as nations, we're far more restrained, austere, self-conscious & cynical (shaped as societies by the notion that one should approach life with a cold, stiff upper lip & not rock the boat too much; explaining the tendency to typically operate within the confines of perceived conventionality, as opposed to questioning it - America additionally may be its own country but its history & origins are also obviously derived from the pre-established traditions, inherited by their ancestors from UK colonists)... On the other hand, France has a separate past (distinctive personality traits / philosophical beliefs passed down from generation to generation - shaping the trajectory of its population's collective development - "rebelliousness" being intrinsically felt as a resonant theme that's actively encouraged, not shunned for instance - harking back to the defining revolution, fighting for liberation from tyrannical oppression, whereas alternatively, we've always maintained the status quo they shattered - protecting an aristocracy, surviving to this day - instead of upending it) & therefore, a different culture's born from that major disparity, resulting in the opposite; passionate people, unashamedly loud in their expressions of their emotions through bold creativity & artistry (unbound by the shackles we arguably still have around our ankles) - which makes for a kind of movie one can seldom find elsewhere, since the articulation of points in each feature feels unburdened by the same domestication & hesitancy, you'd usually find here, at home.

'Anatomy of A Fall' is yet another example of this; an astonishingly well-realised, detailed & authentic analysis of humanities' nuanced flaws & endearingly paradoxical complexities - confusing, contradictory imperfections found within us all, present amongst one family depicted, entwined within a tragedy we witness being investigated on a microscopic level for over two thrilling hours in an ambitious, masterfully crafted, deeply evocative piece of fiction which is so brilliant in the deliverance of its profound message (unlike anything available, domestically), I don't actually feel the need to write a particularly lengthy review - because it's far more capable of saying what it wants to say, in a superior fashion than I ever plausibly could, given the chance.

Would easily have given it a 5 star review (utterly perfect - without any identifiable faults), had the production finished just a little bit sooner (feels like the story needlessly lingers for a while after the narrative has completed - losing a sense of purpose when it could've merely ended 5 / 10 minutes before, once the court case completed; gave the impression a final twist was on the horizon, by staying... When actually, nothing really happens - no rug's pulled from beneath us, justifying the brief extension - a shame) but regardless, by far one of the best films of the year. Engrossing, meticulously constructed & powerful. Truly outstanding.

"No, no, no, no - we're not doing the nostalgia tour. I want to know what's happening right here, right now."

Words ironically spoken by David Tennant's incarnation of the Doctor during S4's iconic finale in 2008, 'Journey's End' - written by Russell T. Davies himself - (a line I'm reminded of, after seeing 'The Star Beast') that perfectly encapsulate precisely why his first era was such a triumph, with its legacy remaining intact to this day; in short, it understood the necessity for 'Doctor Who' to remain unwaveringly in the present (regardless of whether he was confronted with a classic villain, Davros - & in spite of their shared animosity, neither was defined by who they once were or what they'd done before; all that mattered was who they chose to be & the decisions they made, solely in that moment) & therefore, their palpable interaction acted as a phenomenal reminder of what the show basically represents (development), thematically summarising itself meticulously - in one brief excerpt of dialogue.

Let me labour the point I'm trying to make a bit more; 'Who' is the longest running sci-fi series in the world with a rich history spanning 6 decades (hence the 60 year anniversary specials - you'll be aghast to realise - especially mathematicians); numerous novels can & indeed have been written, chronicling the rich mythology it possesses, yet despite all that lore ("Whovians" will be sure to remind you of, with or without your consent), the reason for its endurance is centred around the fact that every few seasons, the show & lead actor / actress "regenerates" (again, sincerely surprising news to many reading, I'm certain), permitting creators the rare opportunity (most other TV productions could only dream of having) to renew itself (overhauling cast & crew, both in front of & behind the camera, allowing for constant, necessary change to take place; its tone / voice / aesthetic style adapting in a contemporary way to keep up with modern audiences, reflecting the times of its making; shifts in attitudes, conversations being had etc. Like a snake shedding its old skin to reveal an updated design, beneath); a creative strength (ensuring relevance & artistic replenishment - simultaneously, reassuring audiences to stick with tenures they don't generally like, considering another - catering to their tastes - is probably soon on the horizon) - yet perhaps (poetically) a weakness / paradoxical contradiction in their fictional personality; for a being who seemingly has the unenviable ability to journey anywhere throughout time & space (seeing anything & anyone), our protagonist seldom looks back to their own past, always preferring to keep an eye ahead to the future.

It's this obligatory detachment (from themselves & who they previously were - cruelly forced through the premise of their own show to continuously focus on who they're meant to eventually be, at the expense of all they've previously had) that defines the Doctor, as much as their TARDIS; a lonesome, solitary figure, moving inexorably onwards, always; an idea Russell addressed directly with his beautiful exploration of the 9th & 10th, respectively - tragic, tormented souls (gorgeously realised with layered depth & nuance) who sympathetically yearned for meaningful, lasting connections, though couldn't allow themselves to grow close in fear of inevitably losing those cherished relationships they evidently valued so dearly etc.

A bitter-sweet acknowledgement (happy to have had the experiences, sombre they've reached their natural denouement), maturely questioning the personal price paid for progress (& if it's actually worth the intense heartbreak in the end?).

"You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords."

Heck, even when beloved, former companion 'Sarah Jane Smith' was brought back to feature in Toby Whithouse's 'School Reunion' in 2006, it wasn't to dwell on nostalgia she potentially evoked (reminiscing about the good old days & baiting die-hard fans to bask in memories, long since passed), but re-contextualise the pre-existing dynamic Tennant's version had with his current associate at the time, played by Billie Piper (gifting Elizabeth Sladen's welcome reintroduction with genuine purpose) due to her presence within the narrative devastatingly behaving as a meaningful reaffirmation of Rose's impending futility when met with a physical manifestation of the unavoidable destiny awaiting her (being left behind - irrespective of her apparent significance, she'd have to reconcile with the knowledge that nothing seriously lasts when travelling alongside an ageless immortal who must forever endure eternity & persist - hard as it was to accept; humans age, wither, die, are consigned to the confines of history & then eventually forgotten - before her stood a man who was somehow exempt from that sequence of events); a humbling visualisation & lesson learned (& a sobering prophecy fulfilled, many seasons later - validating the grim observation made in her absence, with hindsight).

"No. The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it's a world or a relationship, everything has its time. And everything ends."

Although depressing, that's equally life at its most honest. Russell respected viewers enough to talk to them plainly, without condescension. He didn't patronise audiences by sugar-coating the truth (the wheel keeps turning - destruction is as much a part of the cycle as creation & one arguably verges upon the occurrence of the other to continue, ad infinitum); he mindfully mirrored our reality back at us through the lense of fiction so we could maybe discover things about ourselves in the meantime, vicariously through the wondrous adventures of this mysterious & inwardly dour Gallifreyan whose journey is similar to our own, venturing in to the unknown.

I make this distinction in order to appreciate both the main intention responsible for the formation of the programme's very identity (embedded throughout the fabric of its interwoven existence; as recognised, accountable for its sustained longevity - something which must be knowingly preserved by producers to guarantee further years of expansion) & the reason, detailing the earlier year's popularity - to therefore distinguish the difference between a warranted return in storytelling (something that enhances a plot)... And one that's merely done for the sake of it (contributing nothing, perchance even detracting from the impact of what's already been articulated) to then ask this: what did Catherine Tate or David Tennant's inclusion add to the show here, on this occasion?

As much as it pains me to say, how are the Noble's re-emergence anything other than blatant, unappetising fan-service (mindless key-jangling, stymieing growth) we're normally accustomed to seeing in other corporate Disney+ content like 'Star Wars' or 'Marvel' (lazily cashing in on anything with a large enough following to merit investment)? For example, if the show is theoretically dependent upon relentless progression, how is this return not brazen, unedifying regression - typified by Donna's satisfying closure (gifted lovingly at the later section of 'The End of Time P2' - adorning her with all the happiness she could ever want) being frustratingly rescinded for the sake of it (in a contrived way, to unconvincingly excuse another outing - preventing her from flourishing by herself & resultantly maintaining her in some kind of disappointing state of perpetual stagnation to manufacture extra conflict), diminishing the emotional stakes (when they can demonstrably be annoyingly over-written whenever, to churn out more) etc. Furthermore, for a show which requires a gaze, ambitiously peering in to the realm of what could possibly be, why are we still turning our attention to what was - 15 years ago? Shouldn't be we encouraging folks to move on & leave things as they were? Moreover, if Chris Chibnall was chastised for refusing to relinquish his obsession with the Doctor's past... How is this any different?

I get the impression the BBC's trying to appease those it lost amidst Jodie Whittaker's tumultuous period in the role (exacerbated by her characterisation's divisive 'Timeless Child' arc, most hated - even the logo reuses a classic design many liked to compensate - rather than inventing another original)... I simply don't understand how swapping one form of nostalgia for another solves the problem? Until we let the past go (in its entirety), we can't move on & 'Who's' stuck in interminable limbo.

I'm sorry, it didn't quite stick the landing.

'Talk To Me' begins as a really interesting - & genuinely promising - exploration in to the all consuming nature of grief, showing how in the desperation of loneliness (loss is isolating & pain is something felt personally, perhaps even somewhat intimately; a feeling capable of being expressed, but not truly shared), it's easy to lose ourselves in the limitless void left by someone's unexpected absence - & thus, to fill that empty space & sense of longing created as a consequence (for something - anything to compensate), people, in those times of weakness (fallible as they are) are especially susceptible to harmful things offering brief, fleeting, blissful moments of escapism from reality (a heavy handed - no pun intended - metaphor for addiction, I get it); hence, the concept plays upon a mourner's desire to reach out to those they weep for, pleading with the dead to "talk to me" so they may offer comfort to the living who've been deprived of the answers they need, in order to move on etc.

On paper, it sounds great; visualising forthrightly the destructiveness of these traumatic emotional experiences (a family unit is destroyed in the wake of such profound hurt), cynically exploited for entertainment by juveniles - without thinking (which is totally believable)... But then we reach the third act & it's like the creators at the helm didn't really know what to do, say or how to communicate the points they were attempting to potentially articulate - tying up loose ends or drawing established narrative threads together, cohesively - & thus, instead of endeavouring to at least try & pay off story beats satisfyingly, they succumbed to implementing generic horror tropes, in the hopes of - by mere fluke - cleverly adding to the genre, tacking on a rushed, underdeveloped ending... Therefore, although starting off brilliantly, the finished product squanders the original formula designed - since very little is done with it, in the idea's eventual execution.

I liked the movie... I just wish the piece had ironically spoken to me, you know?

A crass, self-congratulatory, tone-deaf, exploitative, toothless dramatisation of events which should never have been put to screen unless done so with absolute scorn & vociferous indignation.

I don't want to see quiet disapproval, tired despondency or emotional resignation (cynically resigning ourselves to this utter farce - under the belief that it's simply how things are, regardless of what happens - is lazy, complacent & precisely the nihilistic defeatism which enables it to continue, upholding the status quo we're in full acknowledgement is irrevocably broken); I want fiction to metaphorically tear these damned people limb from limb until there's nothing left of them but an amalgamation of flesh, pulled from their bloodied bones & strewn across the floor in a steaming heap of meat. Forget libel; if the story isn't courageous enough to wage literal war against these rancid, festering, corrupt politicians & their self-serving, callous compatriots - resulting in multiple potential lawsuits, alleging defamation - then the person telling it is cowardly, doing it incorrectly, undeserving of attention & I lose all respect for them.

Seriously, where was the bite?

Channel 4's entire brand is built upon the notion of being 'bold', 'risky' & 'edgy'. What happened?

This should've been a 1 hour, devastatingly excoriating evisceration; a vengeful denunciation so nasty, those at the recieving end needed a tetanus shot & stitches to physically recover.

200,000+ British citizens died as a direct result of the Conservative Party's blasé lack of leadership; a larger loss of life than the total number of deceased individuals, during the Blitz in WW2... They didn't reach their end with dignity or the compassion we know they had a right to expect; most were left alone, gasping for air, choking on their own lung fluid, scared, in pain, waiting for an ambulance that never came or on ventilators within poorly equipped hospitals exceeding capacity, manned by struggling NHS staff (deprived of suitable PPE), trying to save lives whilst keeping their own relatives at home unharmed - suppressing the mental distress caused by relentless pressure & the merciless onslaught of suffering cases, doing their part, we know folks in Number 10 wouldn't. If that doesn't warrant unadulterated furiosity, a march of bereaved families / loved ones armed with fiery torches, pitchforks & a dismantling of the very system responsible for such preventable, national slaughter (of the most vulnerable within society; the elderly & disabled)... I genuinely don't know what will.

Honestly, what was this meant to achieve? 'Partygate's' the equivalent of a creative, randomly pointing towards a disgusting scandal & patronisingly commenting "that's bad" in a flat tone of voice; yes, thank you for that profound insight (I'll cherish the invaluable contribution made forever) - yet if you've no intention of making a wider analysis of the institutions within a democracy which refuse to hold those in positions of power accountable (like, for instance, those ironically in the media), it's a meaningless gesture, devoid of the intelligence or the ability to truly get to the heart of why / how this was permitted to happen in the first place. Thus, you're part of the problem.

Therefore, why depict the grotesque parties through the lense of fiction, if not to fulfill the entire purpose of telling a tale (meeting the criteria for even the most basic premise)... To make sense of something, nonsensical? Hence, what's the motivation, other than to antagonise for the sake - offering no answers?

Do something. Say something. Stop pulling punches. Don't just visualise reports like an amateurish recreation. Use this platform. Speak up.

Ugh.

If you're looking for a sufficiently angry refutation of this government's contemptuous ineptitude & criminal negligence, watch Marc Munden's 'Help'; that lenses the disastrous pandemic response through the perspective of low paid workers who were caught up in the midst of a national crisis that literally decimated the care home population within the first wave of the UK covid outbreak; the mood is unmistakably seething, mournful, agonized, packed with raw, unaddressed grief & brimming with understandably unbridled rage... This, however? Pitifully weak attack against contemptuous villains who've earned a stronger reckoning than the one they've been frustratingly met with. People need so much better. Be better. Do better.

I've always thought Ridley Scott is only ever as good as a script allows him to be; some directors have this uncanny ability to ensure a consistent level of quality, sustained throughout their work (irrespective of the scribe/s they pair themselves with. However, though suffering from little deviation in standard, their successes usually fail to meet the same highs as his - almost as if they're languishing in the "middle" territory; good, but not quite remarkable; nor necessarily bad either - playing it noticeably safe) whereas Ridley's iconic brilliance as a filmmaker (& the reason why he's one of my favourite artists behind a camera) comes from the fact that creatively, he's a man of extremes & reliably all or nothing (which makes the lows undoubtedly terrible. Regardless, worth sitting through - when we're occasionally rewarded with masterpieces like 'The Martian', 'Blade Runner', 'Alien', 'Alien: Covenant', 'Kingdom of Heaven', 'American Gangster' etc. To compensate). Genuinely, this is a guy who's 86 year old, still going strong (an indomitable machine - more comparable to a literal force of nature by this point) & taking bigger risks than most, even half his age. Utterly legendary & nothing short of extraordinary, to be honest. That does mean yes, admittedly his stuff is invariably more hit & miss (if you occasionally give him a shoddy screenplay, he won't be able to salvage anything from it - you'll simply get a mess of a movie - like 'The Counselor', 'Exodus: Gods & Kings' or 'House of Gucci' - although again, I'll always appreciate an audacious swing, even if it sadly doesn't reach its target), yet as demonstrated with his most recent project 'Napoleon', if you alternatively provide him with even a marginally serviceable, sturdy bit of writing to adapt... He shoots the absolute crap out of it, embellishes the relative adequacy with his brilliance & realises every ounce of potential in each scene he's tasked with bringing to life until it's not only decent, but seriously bloody fantastic.

As you can probably tell, I consequently, really enjoyed my time watching this at the multiplex; a massive, grandiose, epic, sweeping, goliath juggernaut of a production (utterly huge in ambition & scale - no overstatement to recognise this as a vast, meticulously staged masterclass of a technical accomplishment) confidently showcasing what the visionary always impressively does best (craftsmanship galore - of unparalleled proportions, with nothing done by halves) - refreshingly playing to his strengths. Additionally must concede I have a lot more to potentially say (in regards to other stuff - surprise, surprise) but since it also definitely feels like a theatrical version of a much longer story being told (in depth; Napoleon's life is ridiculously eventful, the relationship he has with first wife Josephine's equally fascinating in its multi-layered complexity - a brutal conflict he has to strategize & war against, in & of itself - & therefore, when capturing his ascension to power, historic rule, tumultuous dynamic & subsequent downfall, a short, snappy, fast-paced 2 hours & 30 minutes leaves little time for deeper exploration; sometimes, in this current form presented, the exploration is rather superficial, seemingly reminiscent of an aggressively quick, under-developed, cinematic actualisation of the historical figure's Wikipedia page, in truth), I'd rather withhold my comments & patiently wait to see if the 4 hour cut Ridley's promisingly alluded to during interviews (I'm desperate to see) addresses any of the grievances I might theoretically have (I've a feeling it will, having seen his previous, always superior extended cuts - hence, to make criticisms now seems pretty naive, perhaps premature, accounting for the fact that quarrels I have will likely be non-existent, later).

Waterloo & Austerlitz though... My god (round of applause!), see it on the biggest screen possible (in best image resolution). Amongst some of the most gorgeously constructed, memorable, awe-inspiring moments of pure, unadulterated CINEMA I've ever had the pleasure of witnessing during a theatrical viewing experience. Phenomenal.

Caught flu recently so haven't been watching any movies, considering on regular occurrences, I've been generally finding it frustratingly hard to focus (writing coherently, following stories etc. Failing in my usual attempts to string thoughts together articulately or firmly hold attention - apologies in advance if this therefore waffles), ever since falling ill - a few weeks ago.

Luckily for me though, David Fincher's new feature doesn't require much for me to keep up with it (which is very fortunate; with hindsight & to my great annoyance, I still would've struggled to comprehend what was happening - even now - if the new Netflix production had been slightly difficult) since his latest work 'The Killer' is ironically a brilliant example of an extremely simple plot (undeniably containing a basic premise), emboldened by (ironically) meticulous execution; hardly strenuous to get through, cognitively - yet unmistakably Fincher nonetheless; bearing all the tonal hallmarks of his signature style we've come to associate from the renowned creative, over the years; brutal, unflinching, deliciously cynical & methodically constructed, as always; a masterclass in sleek, dour, visual filmmaking (gorgeously restrained sound design throughout - additionally, at times, channeling Alfred Hitchcock amidst suspenseful, lingering & intentionally voyeuristic sequences, reminiscent of 'Rear Window'), lensing the macabre through the eyes of a complex, morally ambiguous protagonist we tend to see within his projects (individuals, normally dictating the minutiae of their lives obsessively, through compulsive behaviours - to varying degrees, using their unhealthy fascinations with the pursuit of absolute perfection, however insignificant - to mirror his own infamously intrinsic perfectionism behind the camera), really committing to a thorough, sobering & skilfully realised, authentic depiction of what reality probably entails for those who inhabit the spy genre, audiences are accustomed to witnessing, sensationalised elsewhere.

Thus, there's a somewhat generic conflict at the heart of the concept ('John Wick'-esque assassin turns rogue in cut + paste revenge flick, done differently) we've invariably viewed before... I simply enjoyed how the tastelessly cinematic surreality (projected like a filter over images of what's essentially horror - resulting in a crass glorification) is finally removed to confront people with the truth of the grim violence they've arguably grown desensitised to, in front of them. That is what makes this worthwhile; strip away over-rehearsed fight choreography & spectacular stunts - we're forced to witness seemingly ordinary & inconspicuous human beings willingly committing heinous acts of murder for superficial reasons, such as money or vengeance. Life is reduced to something disposable, less important than capital. That's properly depressing & equally what he captures here. Killers - in every sense of the word.

After 7 long years, 'Godzilla' & 'Star Wars: Rogue One's' Gareth Edwards finally returns to cinemas in order to share his latest blockbuster, 'The Creator', with prospective audiences; clearly a passion project & a labour of "true love" (poetic, considering that originally acted as the intended title for 2023's addition to his impressive filmography), the artistic ambition of the 2 hour, 15 minute epic is indisputable & honestly staggering to witness - solely from a visual perspective - on screen (created via a newly adopted guerrilla style method of filmmaking on an unbelievably meager $80m budget, accounting for its scale; shot with cheap cameras on a brave skeleton crew, traversing the globe & realising scenes physically amongst 80 separate locations - before painting in anything missing - pertinent to the plot - over frames, later during post; shaping the aesthetic design around preemptively captured footage, as opposed to dictating the 'look' of aforementioned footage based upon preconceived concepts, imagined beforehand; the usual order), yet despite his apparent genius & masterfully inventive realisation of this fictional world behind the scenes (an achievement in & of itself; profound & astonishing style which fails to be negated by a simultaneous need for a quality of desired substance), the frustratingly promising potential here (brazen in abundance amongst the very foundations of the thematic storytelling present, allowing for this to perhaps become the soaring success I sorely wish the production could've been) fails to compensate for the fact that 'love' is ironically not the only thing this guy's been labouring.

No, 20th Century Studios' dystopia also has a point - & boy, is it direct in the delivery.

You ready?

Basically, it begins as a heavy handed allegory for 9/11 (genuinely - taking the generic template used by previous auteurs, when cultivating early 21st century tales we'd recognise from having been released in the wake of 2001's September attacks, exploring the trauma left behind - basing fictional events heavily on historical fact from 20 years ago, yet setting things in the future - highlighting blatant similarities to draw parallels & ground the narrative in a tangible, grounded sense of relatability & realism), examining western imperialism (in hindsight) & our concerning willingness to rapidly resort to egregious, provocative military escalation in response to anything we fail to understand - ergo, comparing the theoretical threat purportedly posed to our way of life by Iraq (at the time) to A. I., currently - showing we always need SOMETHING to fear & whilst we wage this unending war with ourselves (& our imaginations, borne from a primal instinct to survive - seeking out the next source of danger - irrespective of whether that distrust is valid or not; paranoia only takes one single miscalculation to instill for generations), people could hypothetically lose their humanity at the exact moment when machines simultaneously gain it. Subsequently, lines become blurred & theological questions are raised, in regards to consciousness & where one form of life philosophically ends & another debatably begins.

On principle, the idea sounds pretty great, original & like a solid reason for adaptation... However, just in case the audience didn't already get it (believe me, I promise you we do), those at the helm go above & beyond what I'd personally consider 'reasonable' to reaffirm the message they're trying to convey by then having the protagonist hijack a passenger plane. No, really...

It consequently all kind of falls apart (both in a literal sense & figuratively speaking - again, no pun intended) thereon in, faltering with a rather cumbersome execution so forthright & direct (bordering on patronising abrasiveness - believing us incapable of discerning meaning unless it's literally spelled out in bright, flashing letters), subtext goes out of the window, the standard / nuance falters & we're left with something, sadly less than the sum of its parts.

Plus, John David Washington? Wooden as a spoon. Luckily, a vindication of 'Tenet' (in case anyone required any further evidence, proving his inability to lead - or command presence - explains so much, as to why Christopher Nolan's final Warner Bros feature felt emotionally unengaging) but at what cost? Total personality vacuum.

After the last two truly outstanding weeks of television offered to us by 'The Wheel of Time' S2 (which demonstrated its clear ability to genuinely become the next 'Game of Thrones'; a beautifully written & realised fantasy series - brimming with rich history & lore - capable of balancing emotional depth with creative ambition & scope), the programme returns with its penultimate episode of the season under a different director... And although it's not particularly bad, it's just not particularly good (in comparison to what it was, only 7 days ago) either - & thus, I did find that incredibly irksome. By all means, Sanaa Hamri is a competent filmmaker - but following on from someone who unequivocally elevated the quality so noticeably (I began to view Amazon's franchise as potentially superior to all other current rivals, in the same genre - including HBO's 'House of The Dragon'), only to struggle in maintaining that aforementioned improvement in the absence of Maja Vrvilo (arguably to the show what Alan Taylor & Miguel Sapochnik were to 'Game of Thrones'; rare visionaries who revivified the installments they were tasked with bringing to life, establishing themselves as immediate fan favourites amongst viewers in their opening blocks by ensuring a certain unparalleled brilliance throughout etc.)... Does lead to a somewhat disappointing viewing experience, when I'd began to hopefully expect something better than just "decency" in execution.

Hence, audiences are presented with satisfying developments, tying all the loose narrative threads together, building up to the finale... The way in which the numerous sequences do so is merely a little messier, unfortunately. Still, I'm excited for what's to come - simply wish someone arguably stronger was at the helm, to see it through to the end.

Yikes. Honestly, yikes. YIKES.

The only good thing to come from this movie is the gifs of Jai Courtney on the internet which incentivised me to watch it in the first place - but with the memory of 'Come & See' still thankfully raw in my mind (providing a fresh & sobering sense of perspective this just naively doesn't seem to possess), what 'The Exception' (somehow, with no self-awareness or even a single shred of intentional irony in the title) fails to realise is there are none.

Truly, it beggars belief for me to even have to state something so plainly obvious to the vast majority (forgive me for optimistically over-estimating the abilities of some to think logically for themselves), yet despite the film's bewilderingly tone deaf attempts to ignorantly romanticise a toxic sham of a relationship formed from deception & an imbalanced power dynamic, that staggeringly misplaced attempt at romanticism does nothing to humanise the literal Nazi at the heart of it. For instance, decency shown towards one individual in private doesn't absolve him of responsibility for playing a part in everything else despicable, during or thereafter (because decency should be ideally shown to everyone, regardless of circumstances & cruelty is cruelty, in & of itself - not something negated by kindness?). Again, I'm aghast such a point needs to be made (or laboured as hard as I feel the need to make it, here) but for clarity, he isn't sympathetic & neither is his Nazism somehow "more acceptable" & "less bad" if he's portrayed as somewhat less intentionally complicit in the extreme horrors committed by the Third Reich; occasional revulsion in response to brutality & inhumanity does nothing to lessen the crimes committed if he knowingly stands by & lets them happen, which he repeatedly does. Furthermore, keeping Lily James' character's Jewish identity a secret isn't valiant or heroic either for his choices are entirely motivated by selfish reasons; don't mistake his unwillingness to part with the information as the sudden development of a redeemable conscience; no, he bites his tongue, purely because it's beneficial for him to do so & never actually makes any potential sacrifice (endangering his own well-being) in order to demonstrate (through action, not meaningless words) the apparent affection he harbours for her. She's still lesser to him - he simply doesn't care in the moment, due to the fact that acknowledging it at the time (whilst they're in bed) would be inconvenient. Her being oppressed & he remaining as her oppressor is inexorably unchanged.

Basically, this isn't "love" (it's a stupid person's idea of love - that comes easy; real love is hard) & you're an idiot for thinking it ever could be. Wake the hell up.

For full transparency: Tom Harper is a really talented director whose work I've grown up alongside, since my childhood (you shall never find me doubting his brilliance - regardless of the circumstances - nor will I tolerate any slander); at the age of 11, I first laid eyes on his signature approach when he personally launched the cult classic ITV series "Demons" in 2009 (only a beginner, himself, at the time, within the industry - showing early promise), then enjoyed his tenure on E4's "Misfits" before he started moving on to increasingly large budget productions (getting understandably noticed), such as "Peaky Blinders" S1 (where he solidified himself as a fledgling filmmaker to watch out for & met his frequent cinematographer, George Steel), BBC's spectacular adaptation of Leo Tolstoy's sprawling literary masterpiece "War & Peace" in 2016 (still by far the most visually impressive & cinematic show ever put to screen by the broadcaster - in its entire history; every scene literally dripping with splendorous opulence & unrepentant grandiosity), "Philip K Dick's Electric Dreams" (yes, I actually watched "The Commuter" - which hardly anyone else seemed to pay attention to) to name a few - willing him on in support of his flourishing career (in complete knowledge of what potential he had, creatively - hoping it would some day be realised by executives who could see what I clearly was able to) & unsurprisingly to me, he finally transitioned to film (where he evidently belongs) with recent projects "Wild Rose" & "The Aeronauts" etc. Thus, I think it's fair to say I'm very well acquainted with his stuff & already possess a firmly established admiration of his artistic abilities behind the camera... So it's equally important to note I'm somewhat biased in my opinions & have an entrenched incentive to be somewhat lax in my criticisms of this latest movie on Netflix's streaming platform - yet I'll certainly endeavour to remain impartial.

I'm glad we've got that very wordy introduction out of the way.

Now, here goes... Deep breaths.

I actually didn't like it.

As outstanding as "Heart of Stone" is to witness (just aesthetically - 'content' seldom looks so good on the subscription service - in comparison to this absolute masterclass of technical craftsmanship; seriously, purely for the mere joy of admiring beautifully realised photography which feels alive for once, watch it on the biggest display possible), the quality of the phenomenal style (consistently outstanding) does very little to compensate for the utter lack of discernible substance present throughout (assuaging the resultant frustration) - & it pains me to say it (you can probably infer this from the apologetic opening & reluctant admission of disappointment), however... I did think it was sadly underwhelming.

There are a variety of reasons for this. An example: Gal Gadot can't act (again), fails to hold any kind of engaging presence in her character's moments (a major issue when she's the main protagonist) & interactions between other performers feel... Well, basically performative - exacerbating the sense of tangible insincerity when the relationships presented on screen are mostly meant to represent tightly formed friendships, of strong emotional significance to those featured. Ergo, as I didn't believe in the apparent bonds being presented, neither did I care if any were threatened / broken... Stemming from the fact that she was incapable of doing what any lead is meant to; sell it.

There were difficulties in managing to invest, in short.

Plus, the script... Narratives are ideally supposed to grow organically, right from the introductory sequence to the next (& so on & so forth until the closing credits - an unenviable task, granted, though one a director & writer sign on for when bringing a screenplay to life) with a natural flow from one to the other; consequently, audiences should never be acutely aware of world-building, exposition or obligatory introductions (they're magic tricks played on prospective viewers, hopefully without them being conscious of the intentional deception) - yet here, the necessary plot beats & journeys taken are done so with a staggeringly cumbersome lack of subtlety & consideration (set pieces are set pieces); connective tissue, tying the loose strands together are few & far between & development plays out as a series of "& then this happened, & then this happened" etc. Devoid of pacing or a feeling of satisfying progression. Everything simply occurs & we continually move on to the other bit, without stopping to dwell on the ramifications (both mental & physical) too deeply - making for an irritatingly superficial exploration of seismic events depicted.

As I've mentioned, the packaging is arguably perfect... But what lies beneath that resplendent exterior remains unchanged; exceptionally hollow.

Your guess is as good as mine as to why I thought it would be a reasonable idea to watch this on YouTube by myself for the first time ever in the early hours of a Tuesday morning... Sleep is overrated anyway.

Yet in all seriousness, I'm going to have to sit with this one for a while & wait for it to sink in, since 'Come & See' isn't much of a film; more of a command for audiences to respectfully obey, upon instruction; it's not that we want to watch, nor do we gain any particular enjoyment from witnessing the historical events it depicts with an understandably unflinching & observant stare of mournful indignation (Elem Klimov's artistic purpose isn't to create a form of digestible entertainment here) - but the story is necessary viewing, in spite of that unpalatable melancholy (an intensely bitter taste we're not accustomed to savour, but must swallow, nonetheless) - because only in acknowledging the horror of our history (however ugly it may be) & confronting ourselves with the truth of what we are (visualising the worst of humanities' capabilities, as a species - showing the banality of evil), can we hopefully learn from those grievous errors (borne from our mistakes, in choosing to look the other way - which, as the title obviously suggests, in bearing witness, this discourages) & ensure the horrors are never repeated again in the future.

Thus, a harrowing monument or an experience. Informative? Educational? Possibly also traumatic, maybe... But would it be honest (or even useful - in conveying the profound message, intended), if it were anything else?

Therefore, the piece is stark, dark & frankly, disturbing. Relentlessly grim. Deeply unsettling, depressing & inconsolably sorrowful. Powerfully capturing the corruption of man, mercilessly unjust cruelty of war & the preventable loss of not just life, but innocence, which previous generations unfortunately failed to preserve.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to take a cold shower.

Some of you are honestly so joyless; 'The White Squall' is seldom to be found anywhere, usually (you'd think a legend like Ridley Scott's filmography would be mass produced by distributors for maximum media consumption - for the innumerable doting fans of his work - but alas, not; there are no Blu-ray copies able to be purchased in Europe & rarely have I ever found it on any streaming services) - & so seeing its availability on Amazon Prime in the UK? No brainer. My time had finally come to watch the incredibly elusive project from 1996 & continue on with the movie-marathon I began of one of my favourite filmmakers...

My reaction - upon completion? It's utter magic, to be honest; not only is Scott performing at his absolute best behind the camera (the early, inimitable visual style he possessed when he shot on film will never be surpassed, creatively - it's pure art to behold, he somehow makes smoking look cinematic / sexier than anyone else & every frame is aesthetically a masterpiece - especially since he beautifully realises so much from the page, on set, practically, in a manner that would otherwise be rendered lazily via artificial CGI nowadays) but the production itself is just brimming with that unmistakably classic, endearing, 90s nostalgia modern releases sorely lack today, in the 21st century (arguably since 9/11 - a major historical event responsible for entrenching a palpable cynicism within society - reflected in the stories told thereafter); the cheesy, unrepentantly sentimental authenticity (full of heart, warmth & sincerity) & pungent, testosterone fuelled homoeroticism lingering in the air of every voyeuristic shot, featuring athletic male bodies; their oiled, muscular abs & chiseled, sweaty, masculine faces (definitely reminiscent of a provocative 80s music video - the actors were all in their 20s too; it's okay to acknowledge the underlying tension & how sterile depictions are by comparison, presently) etc. Lovingly chronicling the typical coming of age tale regarding immature, naive boys growing in to fully developed men (over-coming personal obstacles holding them back & suppressed trauma, developing in to people whom they're meant to become - maturely stepping out from under the shadow of their elders - shaping the future, as opposed to being defined by relics of the past), upon their voyage across the ocean... I mean yeah, we've probably sat through numerous similar, formulaic journeys of self discovery (unearthing one's true identity within the context of a narrative is hardly groundbreaking), yet you haven't tuned in to that common concoction when it's been delivered so goddamn well by someone as good as this.

I'll hear no slander & I loved it.

Developed an aversion to watching Netflix movies, simply because the reputation (which comes with the quality of film you'd associate from the streaming service) often precedes them & therefore, (not to generalise but) since most typically aspire to do nothing more than meet the bare minimum standard anticipated by audiences (as opposed to surpassing it - acting as mindless 'content' to digest - to keep customers subscribed, possessing little other purpose), there's seldom any incentive to continue trying further; I've unequivocally lost faith in the brand's ability to deliver on any of the promises made, irrespective of who's involved or how aggressively a product's marketed; they're tarnished from as early as their announcement... Plus, since I wasn't overly enthralled by Susanne Bier's original take on the 'Bird Box' concept, my expectations could not have been any lower.

Therefore, when taking the circumstances of 'Bird Box: Barcelona's' release in to consideration, you'll imagine my surprise when I finally mustered the willpower to sit through yet another installment (seemingly made for the sake of it) & tuned in to 2023's follow-up... Only to unexpectedly find myself genuinely intrigued by the occasional bold creative choices made by those at the helm. No, seriously. Give it some credit, at least.

For instance, rather than spinning out an unoriginal & obligatory direct continuation of the first (cashing in on the success of A-lister Sandra Bullock's recognisability), I'll concede how refreshingly commendable it is for the creators to instead opt for more audacious world-building, telling an entirely different story (a spin-off, of sorts) set in the same version of reality - to expand upon the mythos of what we already know, whilst inventively re-contextualising our understanding of events we've witnessed play out on screen, elsewhere. Going it alone? That's brave.

For me, personally, it also essentially focuses on procuring the key to guaranteeing a great sequel; taking what's previously been established & building upon the foundations in a natural & organic way. Consequently, in that regard; success! There's promise.

Additionally, the mind-bending ideas raised here are truly fascinating to consider (& add an appreciable logic, explaining what we're actually seeing unfold), providing a uniqueness I can't help but enjoy, when thinking about; an invasion of corporeal entities who live in a constant state of quantum fluctuation (utilising Werner Heisenberg's uncertainty principle as the basis from which to ratify their theoretical existence; fully formed creatures shifting through space & time with no solid exterior until actually observed by an onlooker - in the same way photons change when viewed under a microscope - thus, resulting in a subjective, unfixable interpretation of their appearance - since what one individually witnesses is heavily defined / influenced by the character's prior fears or beliefs etc. For example, a devout Catholic is thus more likely to experience their encounter as something religious, then perhaps a grieving father relives the loss of a child; weaponising confirmation bias to bring about the desired effect - tailored for each & every person)... I mean, that's genius?

Furthermore, having the result of an interaction with these beings, be defined by the differentiation in expression of genes due to epigenetic trauma - rationalising human behaviours throughout (those unacquainted with pain are incapable of withstanding it for sustained periods - culminating in suicide - whilst others can look upon whatever hypothetical manifestations or creatures these may be & survive)... I'm sold.

However, I merely wish the execution had been as impressive as the brilliance of the outstanding concept (philosophically challenging our comprehension of science & relativity)... Because despite my brazen enthusiasm (for what could've been), co-writers & directors Àlex & David Pastor took that boundless potential & squandered it with (what was) something rather generic.

Personally, I've long admired Alice Troughton's reliably strong direction in the various TV projects I've seen her work within & especially appreciated her unwavering skill, in noticeably crafting particularly impactful, emotionally rich moments (many of which - to her credit - have endured the test of time), borne from her impressive ability to ensure the procurement of actors consistently delivering some of their (arguably career) best performances in front of the camera (conveying nuance beautifully - without coming across as forced), under her watchful gaze on set (from 'Midnight' in 'Doctor Who' to Dominic Mitchell's 'In The Flesh' & the infamously unsettling episode of Russell T. Davies' later series 'Cucumber' etc. The guidance she gives - whatever it may theoretically be during production - always seems to culminate in the formation of something unexpectedly sincere or realistic) & therefore, upon the announcement of her first feature film, attending a screening at the cinema seemed like a no-brainer; I was intrigued.

Consequently, I can thankfully breathe a sigh of relief - now I've seen 'The Lesson' - considering she delivers in every way I expected her to, here; heavily akin to David Tennant's iconic 2008 installment within the BBC's 60 year old franchise I alluded to (for which she's responsible), it basically plays out as a layered, claustrophobic, psychological thriller (led by phenomenal actors Richard E. Grant & Daryl McCormack - the latter whom deserves commendation for recently selecting projects led entirely by women, championing their voices, much to the betterment of his own flourishing filmography - again, unsurprisingly brilliant in their portrayals, elevating the material further); tense, twisting & a slow-burn, operating within the stiflingly restrictive confines of a visually striking & exasperatingly isolated fictional environment (heightening drama - so few trapped alongside one another for prolonged periods, undisturbed; alone with their harmful thoughts & brewing paranoia), utilising the themes depicted (of ambition & creativity, analysing the price paid to achieve one's potential & exploring the notion that for one to express one's self, perhaps it prevents others around an individual from doing so? Ergo, not only are a family mourning the death of a child in the story, but what he simultaneously represents; a loss of their own identity - all intertwined amongst a loving & passionate dissection of literature, ruminating over the question as to what makes a truly great piece of writing?) to playfully acknowledge its own narrative clichés (rather meta), so they may reaffirm the fact that all art is constructed from a slight form of imitation & more ironically, even in an attempted reclamation of autonomy (victims regaining a sense of control & stepping out from underneath another's shadow), the wronged succumb to the same crime as their perpetrator (to achieve that goal); they steal from their superiors.

Yes, the delivery is not exactly subtle & a tad heavy handed in execution... Yet it's so unashamedly brazen in its directness (& told in an engrossing manner, from beginning to end - irrespective of the blatant messaging), I found myself deeply invested, regardless & enjoyed the conversations being had.

It's genuinely a real shame "Nimona" won't get a major theatrical release because it's exactly the kind of forward thinking movie which (in my opinion) deserves to have a wide reach amongst general audiences - available both in home viewing & cinemas alike - though in saying that & considering the unjustifiably tumultuous development hell this went through in order to even make it to our screens (via literally any format) thanks to original owners of the IP (Disney - stymieing progress behind the scenes in fear of 'tarnishing' their sanitised, overly safe brand by openly endorsing content so unrepentantly queer & then cancelling the project outright in 2021 before Netflix acquired the rights thereafter), I'm simply glad to see it at all; a refreshingly progressive, inventively unconventional reimagining of the children's fantasy genre (subverting usual, lazy tropes we've generally become accustomed to over the years), blended ingeniously with dystopian science fiction (a combination that shouldn't work in theory, yet surprisingly does in execution) in a wonderfully heartfelt & sincere tale (featuring LGBT+ characters & a protagonist, boldly symbolising trans identities), conveying the kind of loving message (of hope & acceptance) I wish I'd heard as a child, growing up - hopefully inspiring future generations (to be themselves, without shame) in a way I can only imagine, as an adult.

It also seems rather apt for a story, directly challenging preconceived ideas of what society perhaps deems "normal" (held back by fundamentalist, traditional conservatives who are incapable of relinquishing their obsession with their romanticised understanding of the past, in an attempt to halt the development of a possible, liberal future) to have experienced the exact ignorance & prejudice the narrative seeks to rightfully condemn, reinforcing the thematic relevance of the sequences we're watching - because they reflect the real-world obstacles creators have had to overcome in order to practically bring the graphic novel adaptation to life. Thus, there's truth to every point articulated (demonstrated blatantly by production studios), if the conveyance is occasionally a tad on-the-nose.

Yet again, animation is leading the way in terms of how we can re-contextualise our approaches to basic storytelling (2023 has been an undeniably massive year for it) & it's brilliant to witness. Lives up to the hype & fingers crossed marks the beginning of a new era of increasingly representational filmmaking.

Oh, to be an unwillingly contrarian fish, reluctantly swimming against the tide of general critical acclaim & mass popularity amongst cinema-going audiences who (for the most part) bewilderingly seem to be in unison with their cumulative love for this film... But (ever the one to keep things tediously original - apologies in advance) I didn't like "Dead Reckoning: Part 1", if I'm honest. Feels somewhat sacrilegious to admit publicly (& even whilst typing these words, I have an overwhelming urge to apologise sincerely to the devout film fans who'll immediately be stripping me of my metaphorical badge & membership card to this esteemed club, armed with fiery torches & bloodied pitchforks - in punishment for this unforgivably heinous blasphemy), yet I'd be kidding myself (& others) if I argued anything other... Because it felt so painfully dissatisfying for me to sit through.

Why?

As far as I can tell, Christopher McQuarrie clearly had a thoroughly engaging tale to tell for the "Mission Impossible" franchise (one I seriously enjoyed from beginning to end) & manifestly, it began with "Rogue Nation" (his debut), then ended with "Fallout" (arguably one of the greatest action blockbusters in the history of Hollywood - masterfully building upon the themes of its predecessor whilst evolving the visual language of the feature to elevate the storytelling to new heights which were both groundbreaking & previously unparalleled - in a direct sequel, expanding the complexity of the ensemble & granting the characters closure, feeling necessary as an organic continuation, offering completion to a narrative we never knew was incomplete until we'd seen it; a gift, in summary).

This, however (compared to that), feels like an attempt to add more on for the sheer sake of adding more on, not because it's truly required but because the production studio cynically wished to capitalize off of Tom Cruise's increasingly profitable brand (he's one of the last remaining mega stars, capable of drawing in viewers to theatres, hot off the billion+ dollar hit "Top Gun: Maverick" - thus, who can blame them? It's not surprising to assume Paramount would want another piece of that lucrative pie) & therefore, the differentiation in motivation - for the cultivation of "Part 1" - shows in the final product we see before us.

Financial intent, basically, devoid of the sincere artistry I appreciated in the past.

Plus, since the latest installment in this spy-genre is tasked with establishing the basis on which a subsequent movie shall bravely endeavour to build upon (in the future, depending on present strikes etc.), it lacks the same momentum as its forebear ("Fallout" wasn't held back by world building & provided a satisfying resolution to the earlier problem presented - spanning multiple projects - & wisely, the writer's keen to not diminish the emotional stakes of prior outings. Ergo, rather than fleshing out what came before any further, he seeks to start again - from scratch); a wise creative decision I comprehend (why ruin pre-existing content - when it's perfect as it is - for brazen capitalism? If one's to make a forced expansion, theoretically, separating events very distinctly ensures no damage done reverberates back down the timeline - akin to removing an infected ligament before the rot can fester up a limb - retaining the quality of healthy elements), but in doing so, bogs 2023's action epic down in endless exposition & obligatory introductions (obviously, a timely process at any start), conflicting with the snappy pace the creators are attempting to preserve (when such essentials weren't as indispensable as they are here). Resultantly, there's a jarring disconnect between what the story wants to be (in theory) & what it actually is (in practice).

That's one reason I'd give as to why I'd say it doesn't work.

Another? The narrative doesn't progress naturally & a lot of it plays out like a derivative rehash of previous plot beats we've witnessed on numerous occasions. Consequently, the repetitious nature the script possesses comes across as if the producers are unadventurously playing a rendition of the lead actor's greatest hits (just bigger, on a far larger scale) - with no ambition to make any worthwhile, beneficial amendments, nor saying something we haven't already heard before.

For instance, Ilsa Faust? How the mighty have fallen; a fascinatingly complex supporting figure & justifiable fan favourite returns (she's included in trailers - that's not a spoiler), although those at the helm clearly had absolutely no idea what to do with her this time. In spite of that, Rebecca Ferguson made it explicitly clear in interviews (before principal photography began) she personally wished to come back (an actor seeking employment - groundbreaking) & viewers also supported her calls, wanting her to be included... So she was (once more) - not with any discernible purpose (predictably doing what she normally does throughout sequences), but for the sake of it. Hence, her two dimensional characterisation is a shallow caricature of her younger self & I became frustrated, realising how she'd been unimaginatively utilised because she deserves better.

An eye-wateringly high budget take on Sherlock S4's divisive finale "The Final Problem" (crossed with Gore Verbinski's "The Lone Ranger") is the most apt description I can concisely hope to offer (a TV series ironically renowned for outstaying its welcome in the closing chapter) flinging ingredients we've been known to like the taste of in one giant, corporate soup (mashing people together - with no consideration as to whether they truly fit cohesively - as if they're a child's toy figurines); hubristic, self indulgent & barely legible, it's so convoluted, subverting developments for the sake of shock value - an irritatingly cheap trick for something so expensive - 3 long, consecutive hours of endless, predictable, monotonously foreseeable twists for the literal sake of having TWISTS & impressive set pieces (thrust in to our faces) designed to compensate for the deprivation of substance. All style.

Granted, I'd literally read a shopping list written by Dennis Kelly (already attended a showing of the musical West End production in London - which he was responsible for - of Roald Dahl's beloved classic "Matilda", so was obviously going to see his adaptation of that to the screen, sooner or later - not a matter of "if", but "when?"), as a continual admirer of his work (cult classic "UTOPIA" - a show he created - to me, remains the greatest series ever commissioned by Channel 4, I'll forever remain bitter at its premature cancellation - a decade on - & I've followed both his & Marc Munden's careers religiously, ever since; watching "Black Sea", "The Third Day", "The Secret Garden" etc.) & therefore, on this occasion, when paired alongside the indomitable mind of Matthew Warchus (a brilliant director whose résumé speaks for itself; "Pride" being one of my favourite films ever made - for instance), this project - stacked with an equally, incredibly talented ensemble cast - won me over before I'd even seen any of the trailers.

However, I sadly never got chance to watch the film in cinemas (seldom found the time) & have (truth be told, to my shame) avoided viewing the updated version until now on Netflix - wrecked with the dread of potentially disliking work produced by those whom I have so much respect for (there's nothing more dispiriting than having your confidence in someone brought in to question)... But thankfully, I can breathe a massive sigh of relief because it's just as much of a hit as I'd hoped (& knew) it would be, from as early as the announcement.

Genuinely, by far one of the best things currently available on the streaming service, audiences are once again introduced to the very familiar tale we've admittedly been told before (& probably grown familiar with, amidst our own youthful excursions through famous works of literature, all those years ago) - yet engaging, nonetheless - lovingly brought to life on the global platform for a new generation in an unrepentantly cheesy, family friendly, heartfelt story of much needed optimism & acceptance, full of warmth & endearing sincerity you'd wish to find in a narrative, set within this genre - teaching us how to basically be decent human beings, hopefully overcome inherited trauma & self doubt (whilst pursuing aspirations), passed down from one person to the next.

Yes, perhaps lacking in subtext (a child's magical powers - a physical, somewhat on-the-nose manifestation of their true identity, symbolising the undiscovered or unappreciated talents each minor theoretically harbours within, if given the chance to embrace themselves & be who they are during formative years - a sickening notion rejected by cynical adults whose dreams have already been crushed; disenfranchised with society, thus, perpetuating the very cruelty wrought upon them before in a cyclical pattern of destructive behaviour - are unearthed with care & support; the cherished, necessary gifts they've been deprived of, since their infancy, unburdening them from the shackles of repression elder individuals are accustomed to & thus, expect others to continue wearing , unquestioningly) & maybe even overzealous in the delivery of its messaging ("two wrongs don't make a right" - as referenced at the beginning; being abused historically doesn't justify abuse, presently), I still really liked it, in spite of the brazenness of themes touched upon. Plus, (not to be patronising) in all fairness, it's a kid's movie... Nuance would be lost on the target audience & as demonstrated, the relevance of what's communicated remains indisputable. Moreover, it acts as a reaffirmation (to adults / guardians) of the importance in ensuring we learn from past mistakes, to safeguard the future & prevent our offspring from suffering from negative experiences we've previously had to endure. Thus, there's meaning, if you look for it & we could all learn a worthwhile lesson or two.

Joyful. Lovely. Poignant.

Remember watching this with my friend on the first occasion in cinemas (over a year ago) & being deeply conflicted, not quite knowing what to make of it at the time, by the moment where the end credits began rolling; on the one hand (from my initial viewing), I didn't particularly like it but equally, on the other, recognised that was entirely the point & intentional, by director / writer Lana Wachowski; rather than pandering to mindless fan service & continuing the trilogy for the mere sake of it, she ingeniously used the opportunity provided (in making a fourth) to construct a fascinatingly prescient - & unrepentantly scathing - commentary on the baseless need for further expansion, ironically within the context of a self-aware (& poetic) expansion, scornfully criticising its own paradoxical existence, whilst reluctantly existing nonetheless - thus, resulting in a meta film which deliberately deprived admirers of the originals of the things they'd typically associate with the iconic brand to consciously convey her own growth (as an individual - wishing to look to the future, instead of dwelling on & then replicating the past, yet also as a creative filmmaker, whose artistry has evolved over the course of nearly 2 decades - observing events with more wisdom & maturity, in order to appreciate the complexities hidden beneath such deceptively binary options provided beforehand), justifying her unwillingness to drag the narrative out any further - to please neither audiences or corporate studio executives, incapable of letting go of something that once was, as opposed to what currently is in the present.

Such a brazen repudiation of Warner Bros' capitalist endeavours certainly subverted expectations & left me a little shocked (since legacy projects are often granted in the hopes of shamelessly cashing in on nostalgia - not refuting it so forthrightly; I needed a while to process the palpable sense of indignation & contempt), but upon my long-awaited revisitation, I'll happily admit I actually, really enjoyed it (seldom are projects cultivated in an environment as inhospitable & rare as this; driven by a respect & tangible adoration of the flawed humans ensnared within the inescapable, fictional construct of her own devising, though just as frustrated by their reunification - trapped inside - as they are; there's a bitter-sweet familiarity as the creator reacquaints themselves with the created; neither liberated from the prisons they fought to be free from, but glad to not be facing these frustrating challenges alone) without hesitation.

Furthermore, rather than seeing this as just another "Matrix" movie, it's instead a stripped back, fascinatingly inventive & theological analysis of the deep & profound love shared between the two main characters (which was the true glue, holding the originals together - not superficial aspects like the fancy camera work or groundbreaking VFX), whose connection endures, in spite of the obstacles thrown in their way for the purpose of manufacturing drama - to pursue a money-hungry studio's corporate agenda elsewhere, outside the pages of a script they live inside.

Hence, as two worlds collide in the film (the digital & physical, until people question their own existence & the philosophical concept of "free will"), the lines between fiction & reality are equally blurred (one making war against another) in an inspiringly creative story, chronicling the empowering reclamation of Neo & Trinity's autonomy in a narrative which stubbornly ceases to conclude, yet simultaneously must - because (with weaponised sentimentality) they consciously bring about the very scenario required to end their story for good (financial disappointment - removing the incentive for additional installments) in a cynical world where they unashamedly do not inhabit, nor belong any more.

The protagonist previously took the red pill; here, the narrative itself follows suit. Ergo, it's awakened & exalted.

Genius idea. Faultless, cathartic execution.

Whilst oh, so many other high-budget fantasy series have fallen by the wayside since The Wheel of Time's initial airing of its first season, S2 seems to have released at a rather opportune moment; "Lord of The Rings" crashed & burned in solemn mediocrity, right out of the gates, "Shadow & Bone" seemed to struggle in making any impression on audiences whatsoever & Netflix's other franchise "The Witcher" has irrevocably fallen in to mismanagement & decrepitude with S3; the only viable challenger still left standing remains HBO's "House of The Dragon", which likely shows no signs of abating. However, what's most fascinating is seeing this ironic dark horse of a show rise out from beneath the shadow of others & finally find its feet with the opening episode of the long-awaited follow-up, establishing itself as what may very likely be THE fantasy saga, keeping George RR Martin's universe on its toes for the foreseeable; far maturer, darker, with a distinct & impressive identity... What an improvement from the last.

Nowhere near as camp & whimsically nonsensical as it should've been.

Hollywood takes Ben Wheatley (an indie / auteur director I've long admired, whose niché, very wry, quintessentially British comedy is usually derived from mocking the knowingly self-aware ridiculousness of his own absurd concepts) & mercilessly sanitises his style for maximum appeal... Thus, appealing to nobody.

He's silly, basically. Let him be silly.

On the one hand, I totally understand the need to cater to a broader clientele (especially with productions burdened by a larger price tag - so as to recoup the hefty budgets given, turn a profit & increase the value of share holder's stock etc. Capitalism, baby) & consequently, why executives put so much pressure on creators to bend their visions, ever so slightly (during all stages of development; appeasing those who dare not wish to see studios taking risks with their money - preferring safe investments, subsidised with cash from their pockets)... But we also mustn't forget that filmmaking is - after all - an art form (constantly fraught with risk - which has to be taken for any possibility of thriving) & for example, if one commissions a piece of artwork from a particular person (renowned for possessing a certain, signature style of which they're known for), then in theory, one must also accept that they should be permitted the creative freedom to express themselves authentically (in that way), without corporate shills constantly breathing down their necks with disapproval.

Therefore, we can all agree (?) for instance, it would be clearly illogical to purchase an iconic piece by Rembrandt & then berate the painting for not emulating the works of Picasso; they're two entirely different entities, whose outlooks were defined by separate lifestyles & thus, bore very individualistic fruit - in terms of how they captured perceptions of reality (& communicated them) at the time.

The efficacy of what was conjured will forever remain subjective (in stirring emotions or articulating the point apparently intended); after all, art is meant to provoke debate & stimulate discussion... Nevertheless, both are valid in their own right & (not to labour a point) if one specific approach is selected, then it should be respected, specifically.

The same can be said here; so afraid of failure are those behind the scenes, their inability to allow originality, experimentalism & recalcitrance (deviating little from the formulaic, cut & paste template used for a usual blockbuster) stymies the project's chances of succeeding on its own terms - ironically bringing about the very outcome sought to be avoided; a bitter-sweet, self-fulfilling prophecy, as it were & a mistake repeated again & again & again, noticeably at Warner Bros.

Subsequently, Ben Wheatley's held back by a visible obligation to be what he's wanted to be (by others in higher positions of power around him), not who he actually is, himself. Granted, his identity occasionally shines through the banality of the generic blockbuster filmmaking he's consigned to undertake - & I appreciated those glimmers, irrespective of how few & far between they seemed... But those fleeting moments of brilliance aren't enough to compensate for the rest of it, unfortunately.

Hence, I left the cinema, dissatisfied.

The cheese.

THE CHEESE.

Akin to relentlessly wading through vast oceans of melted mozzarella... Trying - in vain - to stay afloat aboard a creaking wooden raft whilst pouring buckets of Babybels over the side, bubbling from beneath the cracks forming in the timber, desperately rowing across the opaque surface whilst the oars become increasingly embedded within heavy, sticky layers of additional camembert & parmesan.

Personally, I'm not much of a sailor (so have no idea whether I'd be able to survive a second journey "Red, White & Royal Blue" is clearly intent on making - though the two main characters "Henry" & "Alex" seem to be at an advantage, since they're very well acquainted with sea men), yet I guess instead of stubbornly paddling against the encroaching tide of suffocating cheddar, all I can only surmise is it's probably easier to succumb to the forces which seem hell-bent on washing over audiences whilst watching. Hence, as opposed to fighting back the inevitable, it's probably wiser to immerse yourself within the depths of gorgonzola & perhaps you'll eventually find inner peace, amongst the cornucopia of brie?

That's the only way in which I can accurately describe my viewing experience of the film; for lovers of this particular food, not only will they feel leaving nourished & satisfied (with fully whetted appetites), but over-stuffed (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), plausibly enough to sustain them for the next decade or so... However, for those with an intolerance to dairy (it is after all, an acquired taste), the 2 hours of being force fed Feta will likely result in an overwhelmingly intense sensation of nausea - with possible inducements of vomiting.

Granted, Amazon's latest gay romance is certain to find an audience on their streaming service (just look at the popularity of Netflix's "Heartstopper" for proof of this; LGBT+ audiences are demonstrably tired of the ubiquitous melancholy we've been berated with for years on end - now, there's a demand for queer joy - which this happily supplies amongst crates of endless Caciocavallo) & I'm also able to fully appreciate what the feature theoretically symbolises to queer individuals in their early formation, who'll see themselves represented in a fairytale (of sorts - with a modern twist; a happily ever after with two princes for once) in the way that heterosexual people have, since the dawn of time (neither am I doubting the profundity of what beneficial impact could be had, with such unrepentant visibility)... But as an older, wizened, arguably cynical homosexual, I'm able to acknowledge it wasn't for me - & that's okay because it doesn't necessarily have to be.

Let folks have a silly little rom-com & be content with it - without needing any further justification to validate its existence - because this is something heterosexuals have enjoyed... And they've never had to provide a reason as to why such a thing is warranted.

Furthermore, to the credit of the piece, the concept itself was a thoroughly interesting one - for me anyway - depicting conflict arising from a male with a same sex attraction, born in to a national institution, reliant upon strict conformity & unchanged tradition (the monarchy, an ancient, incestuous & white hereditary bloodline, deemed superior - simply because members are born in to it - known to have hidden away disabled relatives, presided over slavery, embodied the shameful history of colonialism - wearing garments adorned with stolen gems, collected during imperial rule - & upheld the elitist establishment for centuries in the UK) being met with an individual whose very existence challenges the status quo they insist upon protecting? That's interesting. I just think the execution was admittedly lacking (in the social commentary & fascinating, wider analysis of systematic oppression, enabled by aforementioned institution; a really juicy subject for a writer to sink their teeth in to, had they wished to dig a little deeper) but can appreciate tonally, that's not exactly what they were going for.

Ah, well. I wish them every success, regardless.

I think we're all quite scared at the moment, aren't we?

Globally, there's a collective sense of impending cataclysm - looming ominously on the horizon of our peripheral world view (nobody really acknowledges, heightening the unspoken trepidation) - & plus, the mistakes of the past are tending to sadly repeat themselves with ever increasing frequency in the present (resurging support of fascism, the re-establishment of a new cold war between the west & east, threats of nuclear Armageddon & culture wars, inflaming divisions & distrust amongst people in society) whilst the risks of climate change (visualised through the manifestations of fiery infernos, spreading across the skies of numerous countries) become more real than previously imagined, around, forcing us to reconsider our individual choices - theoretically resulting in the formation of this mess we're now experiencing, endangering our very future. Therefore, it's hardly surprising to see that these philosophical & overwhelmingly grim existential crises (challenging our most primal instincts; to survive) are inspiring a new wave of genre pieces being reflected in the majority of filmmaker's more recent works, since the entire purpose of art is to usually capture a feeling (deeply held by the creator during its inception) which the viewer is hopefully able to relate to; each painting or sketch or preserved example of historically / culturally significant literature consequently acts as a snapshot of then (not just physically, but emotionally), giving us an accurate glimpse in to the psyche of our forebears, chronicling the general mood of the time (changes in attitudes, conversations being had etc.) so we're able to learn from those who came before us, whilst contextualising our own problems, here - maybe helping later generations who we (hypothetically) precede with their eventual ambitions.

"Oppenheimer" is essentially Christopher Nolan's reflection of this foreboding anxiety, seeped in paranoia & uncertain existentialism (similar to James Graham's "Best of Enemies", set around the same period); a complex & devastating rumination on the decisions made decades ago (before most of us were even born) by well intentioned, although naive figures, likely dooming civilization to an early grave, precipitating events only happening to us now (once the sequence of events reaches its natural denouement), in the absence of those aforementioned people who were arguably responsible. Ergo, we walk in the footsteps of ghosts whose presence still haunts us, to this day - inexorably bound to them with a grip that refuses to relinquish.

This isn't to try & absolve us of accountability & assuage the guilt of our consciences (so we may perhaps feel less inclined to be despondent or act meaningfully - if the fault lies squarely at somebody else's feet & the wheels - driving us off a steep cliff - were long ago, set in motion). No, instead, the narrative does what any great story simply wishes to accomplish; purely making sense (or at least attempting to reconfigure a semblance of coherent order) of the nonsensical, so it's easier to digest & comprehend, for our tiny little minds to compute. If that offers some comfort, then so be it... On the other hand, if it doesn't, the subjectivity of art allows us to infer different things, whilst validating opposing perspectives.

I guess you could furthermore add that there's resultantly an element of exploration in to the notion of free will too; if the direction we're heading in is firmly set (after all, we're only human - as were these geniuses; infallible & defined equally as much by their imperfections as their achievements - incapable of freeing themselves of the shackles of their flaws as anyone else, despite their gifts), is there anything we can actually do to avert the oncoming demise (borne from who we are - as a species), seemingly wrought upon us (prematurely) by our short sighted ancestors.

A modern, mournful retelling of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" (depicting the immoral construction of a tortured creature - our society - formed from the desecrated bodies of the dead), basically (weeping for the loss of something we never necessarily had - but could've, if we'd amended course) - thematically reinforcing the relevance of such a cautionary tale (we should've listened to, in hindsight; questioning the ethics of scientific advancements in technology, pondering if the means justify the ends & to what ends could this lead to anyway?) by using real figures, depicting them with full acknowledgement of the ambiguous nature of their humanity, holding their faces to ours - like a mirror (Hoyte Van Hoytema's intimate cinematography - for instance - emphasising the notion: if our existence is plausibly indistinguishable, where does one end & the other begin?).