Portis_Charles

The subject in itself, maybe, does not feel so interesting at first. It's a kidnapping. The pace is a bit odd because the ransom is never paid, for a long time. So not that much is happening, it's just a wait.

But it's the way it's filmed that holds the interest. There is a luxury of settings, of places, some flashbacks. It's beautiful, balanced, and nice on the eye. Ridley is the undisputed master of crowded shots.

Michelle Williams here is particularly sublime, emotional and intense, watching her is enough of a motivation. Romain Duris composes a complex and ambiguous character. Wahlberg and Plummer are solid. Characters are not caricatures. Getty is allowed to defend himself: he prefers objects to persons because they don't disappoint. It's a philosophy.

All of it makes for a very pleasing and rather vast film.

A great and powerful historical epic typical of Ridley Scott, two and a half hours sprinkled with brutal action, sublime shots, quotes from Marcus Aurelius ("It's a dream, a fearful dream, life is"), and open historical fantasy. The story is inspired by historical facts but is largely fictionalized for dramatic purposes. "What we do in life echoes in eternity," Maximus says at one point. Eternity according to Ridley Scott is a bit hard for the emperor Commodus who indeed loved to fight in gladiatorial arenas but didn't die there. Here he ends badly in a somewhat predictable finale that I would have liked to be more complex. This hardly diminishes the strength of this massive and impressive film.

Adam Driver in the role of an Italian... I couldn't help but think a lot about Ridley Scott's 'House of Gucci', and the comparison is very complicated for Mann's film, duller and much less amusing. But could it be otherwise? Enzo Ferrari was a very serious man, a great professional, a meticulous industrialist. He had a mistress and an illegitimate son. In cinematic terms, there's not much interesting to show. Mann's mise-en-scene, very classic here, in dark and underlit tones, does not seek to elevate all this and adopts the funeral point of view of the devastating drama(s) around which the film revolves. I totally respect this, but it didn't generate any enthusiasm or passion in me.

An extraordinary film that I would not recommend to everyone but which I loved deeply and found exciting, fascinating, confusing, stimulating. Each shot or scene is the opportunity for a new surprise. It's sexual, literary, political, aesthetic, psychological, intense. Everything is very elaborate, written, full, often bordering on the ridiculous but never going to the excess.

The film as I see it is an uchronia where the Roman Empire would have survived and produced a New Rome in place of New York City, and it is obsessed with Time, this uninterrupted flow which engulfs everything and everyone, but which the architect, the filmmaker, the artist, the man of power, has the capacity to freeze momentarily to reveal the depth, the beauty, the monstrosity of all things.

This superb ending punctuated by the obsessive ticking of a clock reveals exactly the human condition: that of Coppola who was close to run out of time to make his film and finally achieved it at the age of 85, that of Western civilization resulting from Greco-Roman heritage which is threatened with disappearance, that of all humanity facing the challenge of maintaining a habitable planet... We are all running out of time, individually and collectively, which is the best reason to start taking action, now. Mr. Coppola, THANK YOU.

A film that left me in a slightly uncertain state, between admiration and slight discomfort. First of all, it should be noted that this is an excellently produced film. The staging and rhythm are perfectly mastered by Paul Thomas Anderson. It's a film that takes its time to hit the right note. The cast is of course top-notch and delivers great performances.

Here I come to the main character, the gambler Sydney, played in his usual mineral/machine-gun style by Philip Baker Hall. Initially, the character is very interesting because of his mysterious motivations and his calm authority exercised through direct and controlled language. The character's later contradictory developments, leading to incongruous sentimentality when it is revealed that Sydney is helping John (John C. Reilly) to atone for killing his father, then displaying cold ruthlessness when he executes Jimmy (Samuel Jackson), leave in the end a nasty feeling.

First of all, it must be said that the Joker's laugh here is probably one of the greatest and unforgettable creations of an actor in the entire history of cinema. It's incongruous, chilling, hilarious. Joaquin Phoenix is juts fabulous in this role. Many shots are just close-ups of his face coming alive in all directions and thereby telling a story.

The second immense quality of the film is its realistic aesthetic of urban dirt and decay. In the contrast to the soft artificiality prevalent in the 'superhero' genre in cinema, it's a pleasure to immerse in the mire of Gotham City here.

However, it is by following to the end this logic of a very dark take on the universe that the film finds its artistic limit, piling all the misery of the world on Arthur Fleck's head without much subtlety. Likewise, the idea that Fleck's murders inspire sympathy and the start of a revolution is quite gross and unrealistic, and hence leads to a somewhat tedious ending.

The very rich reality/fantasy question, which runs through a good part of the film, is evacuated from the last part, which places the film a level below its distant model 'The King of Comedy' which ended brillantly on a height of ambiguity. This nonetheless remains, in an ultra-sanatized 'superhero' genre, an essential and exciting film.

THE Masterpiece, an absolute masterpiece... It's broad and ambitious like a big novel, carried by a mysterious and historical narrative spirit. It starts at the end of WW2 and carries on for years. It's non-explanatory and powerful, sometimes dreamlike. Alcohol is a big theme, like sects, but it always keeps its mystery at heart.

Immense actors' performances support this. You know the names. It's magical. The Word is of paramount importance here. Slightly poetic/cryptic dialogues/scenes are everywhere. Jonny Greenwood's tense score is in tune with the nervousness of Phoenix's interpretation and the strength of Anderson's filmmaking.

No Academy Award for this? They don't know what cinema is.

The subject itself is not immensely fascinating, like any biography. What is so interesting about a life, even one as unique as that of John Callahan? Boredom could threaten at any moment.

But Gus Van Sant, as a great filmmaker, partially manages to go against this risk by relying on a complex construction of flashbacks, ruminating on the past and integrating drawings by Callahan. The editing is quick and fresh, many scenes are processed quickly enough, sometimes in one or two shots, for the whole thing to go through easily.

The actors' performances are fantastic. Phoenix of course but Jonah Hill is fascinating from start to finish. The way the last scene between John (Phoenix) and Donnie (Hill) ends, they see each other for the last time, is fabulous. Joaquin Phoenix looks down, it's immense.

It's one of many great directorial moments in this difficult but rewarding film. One shot that stood out to me is a slow zoom on Callahan with soft/eerie music as the accident is about to happen. The ending is very beautiful, reinforced by the sublime music. We were able to get to know these characters for two hours and now it's over, with a laugh though.

Good energy of chaotic but mastered filmmaking, capturing in very intense close-up shots ultra-stressed characters, struggling to tear the object of their desire from life, in a diverse and raw Manhattan offering a rich aesthetic context to the action. You have to see Larry "Ratso" Sloman roaming the streets, talking to the black balloon...

Above this boiling pot, in fertile contrast, floats a haunting music with magical accents, 'Zero the Hero and the Witch's Spell' by Gong. It's obsessive and fascinating.

It could be said of the film that it conveys a dark vision of the human kind, a block of frustration and unhappiness contrasting with the benevolent lightness of a balloon candidly floating in the air. But it is done with such electrifying energy that we can only draw from it more optimism, freshness, will.

A shock, a marvel. The production, working on slow zooms, wide, distant, obstructed shots, and the electronic music, often offbeat in its vague menace contrasting with the good spirits of the universe, are fascinating and at a level that I have almost never met on TV. And even less so in a TV comedy.

Because it's funny, sometimes, often. Nathan Fielder, Benny Safdie, Emma Stone, are hilarious and exciting. The rest of the cast, professional actors and complete amateurs caught in the street, form a lively and fresh ensemble. The satire here is light, complex, never Manichean.

But of course, it's not all funny. First, the use of the context of reality TV allows for a sometimes dizzying mise en abyme where fiction and reality mix and blur, which is a major theme of Nathan Fielder's work.

Also it is "The Curse," literally. The threat is real, haunting, obsessive. The series reminded me a lot of 'A Serious Man' by the Coen brothers, another masterpiece of Jewish interrogation of destiny and anxiety.

My final question is: what is the effect of all this on the viewer? Could this enjoyable but anxiety-provoking spectacle have a negative effect on his levels of self-confidence? Can The Curse be a curse? An old question about the usefulness of art that is difficult to answer. In any case, I was just surprised, excited, fascinated, passionate about it all.

When I saw the film for the first time, I was almost a little disappointed because it didn't exactly have the aesthetic and the particular flavor of the films Quentin Dupieux made in the U. S..

But we find many other things there, mainly an absolute pleasure of the dialogues in French, which had already been partially initiated with 'Réalité' and which bursts forth here in all its brilliance of writing and acting.

A very pleasant way of distilling a distinctive and fascinating metaphysical depth, but of which nothing more will be said because it is deliberately indescribable and only touched upon.

Total mastery of the filming, the setting, fetishization. At 00:15, a man's head in the bottom right corner of the frame admires Jungle Julia dancing. Cuts to her imperfectly painted nails. Feet of course.

The serial killer who lurks around the girls poses a permanent threat, the signs of which can also be found in the details of the plan. A sort of parallel can be created between the director and the serial killer (see also Lars Von Trier's The House That Jack Built).

The aesthetics and the very warm photography of the first half of the film are very evocative.

Unfortunately, the dialogues and interpretations of the female characters are totally unbearable, too marked, scum, vulgar. All this chatter is quite insignificant and superficial. These long trashy dialogues take up a lot of space in the film and end up spoiling it. The lapdance scene is shallow and easy like the dance scene in Pulp Fiction. Too bad. It could have been a truly great film.

A good post-apocalyptic universe reaching a high degree of imagination and madness, as almost only science fiction allows it. An apparently quite comfortable budget for TV allows this world to be represented effectively and with a lot of variety. Between the fascinating underground Vaults where a very organized humanity has survived, the savage western atmosphere of the devastated zones on the surface and the militaristic discipline of the Brotherhood of Steel, we pass through very different atmospheres and a delightful variety of sometimes original characters.

That said, behind this undeniable imagination, the filmic and narrative density is rather weak. The narration is scattered and is painfully and partially resolved in a sometimes ridiculous final episode which veers into melodrama (Lucy finds her dad and kills her mom) and conspiracy (bad big companies have triggered the nuclear apocalypse). A few notable scenes are worth the detour but the whole thing is produced without much personality.

The whole thing is going in a questionable satirical atmosphere, not always funny and which tends to diminish the significance of the events. Thus, a brutal massacre filmed partially in slow motion to the sound of 'Some Enchanted Evening' by The Castells becomes an object of exaggeratedly distanced derision. The dialogues are of very variable quality, sometimes very funny, sometimes much less. All of this would undoubtedly have deserved more in-depth work, which is unlikely in the industrial economy of a TV series.

It's globally watchable if you're interested in Star Wars, but it's very bland and flat. The filmmaking is very ordinary, banal, without character. From the very beginning, an ultra-predictable zoom heavily underlines the appearance of Carrie-Anne Moss: "Hey did you see who we have??". It's low level.

There are still some nice things to keep. The settings, natural and set, are often very beautiful. The sequence where the witch takes possession of the padawan's spirit, he suddenly finds himself all alone, is fascinating. In this role, Jodie Turner-Smith is impressive. The witches' convent on Brendok, where flashbacks take place and which then in the last episode is used as a decaying and fascinating setting, is the most exciting element of the series.

Unfortunately, the very heart of the project seems to be a moral relativism which attacks the fundamentals of the saga. The Jedi are frequently ridiculed by the staging and interpretations and lose much of the mystical grandeur that made them so special. A padawan grumbles because he can't wait to return to Coruscant... Lee Jung-jae delivers a slightly tearful performance far from the standards of the myth. Nothing really differentiates them from the Sith, embodied here by The Stranger presented in a pleasant light. The sisters Osha and Mae move from one to the other just as if they were companies competing for the same market. All this only adds to the boring banality of the whole thing.

I have a deep relationship with this film, which I discovered when it was released in 1994, and which for me, embodies and represents France better than any other film. It's something intangible, which resides in the realistic settings and the often very funny dialogues. 'See How They Fall', THIS IS France. Watching it again today for the umpteenth time, I am still impressed by its intoxicating visual, sound and narrative virtuosity, almost out of place for a debut film. Everything comes together perfectly: a scenario expertly exploiting two different temporal narrative lines before bringing them together, elaborated staging/editing effects, dialogues subtly playing on repetition, prodigious actor performances (Trintignant, Yanne , Kassovitz...), the music of Alexandre Desplat in tune with all this... An absolute miracle of a film by an almost reluctant filmmaker.

A rather bland film. There are some comic/absurdist elements from the Coens' original script which could have given us a new 'Burn After Reading', but Spielberg opts for a very serious treatment, even melodramatic in places.

The film's value lies in its careful depiction of East Berlin and a striking plane crash scene, all on a not-so-huge budget. This is where Spielberg demonstrates all his mastery.

In terms of actors, Mark Rylance is excellent, vacillating and complex. As for Tom Hanks, I don't understand his reputation. You have to see him at 00:29 trying to wrinkle his face to affect a mocking attitude. This is very bad.

Dupieux connects to his underlying influence Bunuel through Dali. We find here of course the classic figure of the dream within the dream within the dream etc., as in the excellent 'Reality' by the same Dupieux.

Everything, like the best Bunuel, remains light and playful, thanks to the actors (extraordinary Romain Duris in particular) and the dialogues. A Dali's line in the film: "Painting represents an infinitesimally small part of Dali's personality. I consider that I make paintings that are quite mediocre, but which still allow me to express a little piece of Dali." Dupieux would perhaps say the same thing about his cinema...

Beyond the lightness and the play on dreams, we can find a vision fascinated by the madness of the artist's life, that of Dali here, and its obsession with keeping the pot boiling, constructing each moment of life like a monumental drama. Another line of dialogue: Judith: "Do you have a minute to talk? I'm not disturbing you too much?" Dali: "So, you know, artists of my stature are always absolutely disturbed by completely 'normals' people."

A wonderful contemporary tale with sci-fi/fantastic overtones. I did not consider its somewhat retrograde implications. I just extraordinarily enjoyed the suburban atmosphere, the constant quiet humour, the delicious acting performances, the familiar strangeness. Behind the humour, it is a dizzying dive into the depths of the couple and everyday life. My only regret is that I wish I had a lot more of the same. The film is short and rushes to its end through an entirely silent sequence which covers events which could have been developed at greater length for my greatest pleasure. An absolute gem.

Classic Eastwood-style justicer act, here often far too easy. Many of the characters are weak or a little ridiculous, in a way that makes Eastwood stand out comparatively. Even the powerful villains (Stockburn and his gang) look a little silly. The Preacher sets up a battle with five guys who each wait their turn to attack him instead of taking him from the rear, obviously. They're all a bit stupid except him, basically. A rather tiresome watch.

That said, there are many interesting elements to keep, especially the potentially supernatural/religious aspect embodied by this Preacher character coming from the mountain, called by a prayer through an impressive alternating montage. He will return to the snowy mountains in the beautiful end credits.

This aspect is supported by an evident formal beauty in the mountainous landscapes and the beautiful dark photography in the interiors by Bruce Surtees, his last for Eastwood.

1. The power of dreams. Fascinating. At first, we drive through the night. Metaphor of the man who searches for meaning in the darkness. The country road walking inserts continue this theme.

2. In terms of staging, it is very rich. Towards the beginning, each time the group arrives by car at the Sénéchals' house, two identical shots: a vertical panning shot downwards from the top of the trees to arrive at the car arriving in the driveway, representing a natural threat.

3. The film deploys absurd and deadpan humour. No jokes, just a slight permanent smile. Bunuel: "It's not a satire, and even less fierce. I believe it's the film where there is the most tender humour." "I can't separate the characters into absolute good and absolute bad." (Conversations avec Luis Bunuel, p.215)

4. Festival of delicious acting performances. Julien Bertheau in the role of Monseigneur Dufour is brilliant. His politeness bordering on obsequiousness is fascinating.

After a 3rd episode in the form of a flashback that was a little more interesting because it explored a more mystical aspect of the story, this 4th episode falls back into an almost complete platitude. The two sisters find themselves on the same planet, in separate quests for the same Jedi, and although serving opposite sides on many levels, they behave identically, like employees serving this or that company indifferently. The request made to Mae by her mysterious Master to kill an unarmed Jedi is met with a disapproval that is confusingly naive from Mae, who just seems to think that this is a little too much for her after all. All this is filmed and dialogued with a total banality. I was on the verge of stopping the series for good when this said Master appears at the end of the episode in a cliffhanger which will be enough to bring me back in the 5th week. But what boredom.

The Thing is, first of all, a fabulous music score, perhaps the best in the history of cinema, a miracle of haunting minimalism. The visual correspondence of this minimalism is found in the white, snowy, uncertain settings of Antarctica. The film works partially in the hollow, like this hollow block of ice which has hosted a multiformal extra-terrestrial life which we can never grasp and whose fate will remain elusive. Fascinating fades to black shots intelligently sprinkle the film and complete its sublime and insoluble mystery. The threat is everywhere and creates an atmosphere of total paranoia. An immortal masterpiece.

Very talkative, theatrical film, but it's the original material that wants that, it's the basis of this story, a fundamental incommunicability that the use of language only makes worse. There is towards the beginning a scene of discussion between K and Miss Bürstner which lasts 7 minutes, but the logic of the scene is that it starts slowly, then continues in Miss Bürstner's room where it goes to a kiss, before Bürstner suddenly gets angry and kicks K out of her apartment. All this takes time. The problem is that the interpretations are, for me, not very good. The actors struggle to be anything other than annoying in their character's discomfort, especially Perkins. The aesthetics used are beautiful and fascinating, but the viewing is quite tedious once you know the film.

First point, Kill Bill vol.1 and Kill Bill vol.2 are of course the same film, cut in two for reasons of theatrical exploitation, so there is no point in doing two separate reviews.

It is a strange object, monstrous and sublime, devoid of any narrative credibility, mixing heterogeneous and sometimes almost ridiculous elements that are difficult to love all of them, but carried by an epic breath and a limitless passion for cinema.

The film is a truly enjoyable festival of staging effects of all kinds, varying depending on which part we are in and drawing on the very sources of the genre in question. When Tarantino uses a shot of Sergio Leone on the boots of killers on the move, he is obviously not trying to hide. The quote is obvious, sincere, passionate, and above all effective in the context of the scene.

The actors' performances are also enjoyable and exciting. Thurman is explosive and sensual. Michael Madsen is always fantastic with Tarantino. Great moments of sadism, one of Tarantino's major themes, dot the film and form its underlying spirit.

What for me is the other great Tarantinian theme, temporality, is explored by an extremely rich and risky narration, structured with virtuosity by chapters, temporal leaps and flashbacks, which allow us to highlight the decisive moments. This is perhaps the most impressive aspect of a double film which, although disparate and imperfect, carries everything in its path.

THE Lars Von Trier's masterpiece, the film where he reaches an absolute pinnacle of neurotic humour by developing the director/serial killer parallel. He makes his killer obsessed with artistic gesture, an ultra-perfectionist crippled with OCD, a sometimes verbose engineer far into his particular theories...

Matt Dillon is extraordinary in this role, subtly funny and disturbing at the same time, accumulating all these nuances of charm and menace mixed on his face, fascinating with its distinctive voice.

The intimate apprehension of this frightening character and his environment is enabled by an ultra-tactile, sensitive mise-en-scene, using a lot of handheld camera and stunning editing, as well as an extremely precise and rich sound design.

The sense of the ellipse in the narration, divided into chapters, and concluded with a final astonishing part, makes it a very deep film, while remaining always enjoyable through its constant underlying dark humour.