If a comedy, not funny. If a drama, not dramatic. If social commentary, no comment. After an hour we looked at each other, mouthed the word “stupid,” and departed. The culture gap between us and this Korean Oscar submission must have been too wide.
A one-note dramatization of a real call from besieged Gaza was short on modulation, and how one responds to the lead character’s conduct will depend on the viewer, but any film that humanizes Palestinians deserves celebration.
What a feel this movie gives for Brazil in 1977 – its people, its culture – in just its first 40 minutes! In the hands of a master filmmaker, I sat back, eager for the ride, with Wagner Moura as the easygoing lead. Then the plot happens and muddies the picture. People are enemies of the state for reasons unknown, a hairy leg attacks people enjoying commercial sex, heads get blown off, and researchers 45 years in the future piece together the puzzle for, again, reasons unknown. Perhaps familiarity with Brazilian history and politics would have kept us better glued for the following two hours.
Remarkably filmed sub rosa in Iran, Accident told a story of torture and revenge with compelling directness and lots of close-ups. Some of the set pieces went on too long, which drained some suspense, but that may have been Jafar Panahi’s intention. (Would the Golden Globes consider this a comedy?) A bit threadbare for Best Picture, but politically daring and in every way commendable.
Music can make you happy, and this film did, over and over. Good songs, sung with joy to enthusiastic audiences, were played to the end but smartly intercut with snippets of the characters’ daily lives, so they never outstayed their welcome. The characters were all people you rooted for (cf. Marty Supreme) and enjoyed being with, even the teenage girls. Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson were wonderful, as was the supporting cast, featuring good old Michael Imperioli. The plot may have been based on a true story, but it doled out excessive tragedies in a Hollywood-hokey way that erased any thought of authenticity. But that music!
A somewhat aimless documentary about our era’s most famous investigative reporter, Seymour Hersh. It wanders among clips of stories he covered, a current non-revealing interview and historic shots of him walking, like the directors had trouble coming up with visuals to fill the frame. The film gave me a face and a personality to go with the byline, but not much insight or follow-through on the title.
A Scandinavian psychodrama that brings back memories of Ingmar Bergman. Renate Reinsve joins Jessie Buckley, Rose Byrne and Zoey Deutch in the Actress-I-Enjoy-Watching category for 2025, while Stellan Skarsgard and Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas are worthy Golden Globe supporting actor nominees. There’s disappointingly less to the story and landscape than in Joachim Trier’s earlier The Worst Person in the World, just some great acting.
Unwatchable. From the opening frantic sex scene to the discordantly beatific ending, the movie charges ahead with a frenzy and high volume that is unrelieved and wearing. The plot toggles between absurd and ridiculous. The repetitive table tennis scenes are fakey and the music is unusually bad. Timothee Chalamet succeeds in creating the most unpleasant character of the year, but who wants to watch that? I can’t think of a single moment I enjoyed, aside from Pico Iyer’s astonishing performance.
A brilliantly conceived and faithfully executed homage to Jean-Luc Godard’s directorial debut, Breathless, in which he broke all the rules and pioneered independent cinema. Viewing Breathless beforehand, as we did, only made the recreation more telling, and amusing; the star here is Godard himself, although the radiant Zoey Deutch, as Jean Seberg, fills the screen wonderfully. In its rigor, a fitting companion to Richard Linklater’s simultaneously released Blue Moon.
Sort of a Nomadland for loggers, this story of man’s life is simple, maybe too simple, and he’s simple too, but a nice guy who never hurt anyone. The movie goes off the rails, so to speak, toward the end, which makes you realize it’s based on a novella, not a screenplay. Meant to be moving, it moved me not.
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