The Encampments (Michael T. Workman , Kei Pritsker, 2025): 4/5

Excellent work. I held it together until they played the phone call of 6 year old Hind Rajab begging for someone to come save her life as Israelis shot into the car she was trapped in surrounded by the dead bodies of her family. Then I was weeping. This documentary is very important and will be in the future when the protestors of last year are eventually vindicated just like the kids in 1968 were.

Friendship (Andrew DeYoung, 2025): 3/5

There’s something definitely going on here. The motif of Marvel movies seems to be the key. It feels like the tell that this film is about the absolute emotional and spiritual poverty of contemporary American life and the increasingly desperate measures we will go to to fill the void. Robinson’s self immolation seems far fetched but it’s only a little bit heightened. He goes over the top but in doing so makes us face what we all have the potential to be if we totally gave in to our goblin selves. And Paul Rudd, an actual Marvel hero, is just perfect.

Parthenope (Paolo Sorrentino, 2024): 1.5/5

I'm like 0 for 5 or however many Sorrentino films there are. He's like the Italian version of Terrence Davies - another director who I simply cannot find one single film in their oeuvre to enjoy.

I'm Still Here (Walter Salles, 2024): 3/5

Competent and often moving!

Grand Tour (Miguel Gomes, 2024): 3.5/5

Elegant and beautifully shot. This is little more than a glorified travelogue that's practically devoid of much subtext or even critique - but lots of wonder in its place: less the Brechtianisms of Tabu but rather a more controlled and condensed version of Arabian Nights wily chaos.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig (Mohammad Rasoulof, 2024): 3.5/5

There’s a Kubrick film this reminded me of but to say which one ruins it. Brilliant use of actual protest footage. Stirring.

Fountain of Youth (Guy Ritchie, 2025): 0.5/5

The ancient Greeks warned us never to tempt the gods. The Hollywood gods, however, can be summoned by little more than a streaming contract, a few past-their-peak A-listers, and the seductive idea of “what if Indiana Jones evolved, but worse?” Thus arrives Fountain of Youth, Apple TV’s grand plunge into the tepid, over-chlorinated waters of the action-adventure genre; where the only mystery more elusive than the titular fountain is why anyone agreed to make this movie.

By the end, Fountain of Youth doesn’t so much conclude as it politely dissolves, like a sugar-free lozenge in lukewarm water. Apple TV, for all its deep pockets and deeper desire to disrupt cinema, has somehow created a movie with the visual excitement of a desktop screensaver from 1995 and the narrative coherence of a botched PowerPoint from a non-profit organization. There are worse ways to spend two hours; but most of them involve jury duty, amateur dental surgery, or watching this film again. In the end, Fountain of Youth may not deliver eternal life, but it will make you feel like you’ve lived forever.

Mountainhead (Jesse Armstrong, 2025): 3/5

Succession on meth. The black humor really zeroes out to blood-boiling despair, so be prepared, but there’s at least a steady supply of A-grade zingers.

The Rehearsal: Season 2 (Nathan Fielder, 2025): 5/5

A million chef's kisses. Nathan Fielder's comedic brilliance and originality is simply unmatched. No one else is doing comedy today anywhere near his level.

Last Summer (Catherine Breillat, 2023): 3.5/5

Breillat's back baby!

The Accidental Getaway Driver (Sing J. Lee, 2023): 3/5

Dustin Nguyen is due for an American renaissance. I hope American filmmakers see this and hit him up (apparently he's had a perfectly lovely acting career in Vietnam for quite some time when Hollywood stopped offering him meaty roles).

Magazine Dreams ( Elijah Bynum, 2023): 3.5/5

If you thought the date between Travis Bickle and Betsy in Taxi Driver was awkward, it's downright pleasant compared to the one between Killian Maddox (Jonathan Majors) and Jessie (Haley Bennett).

Spellbinding character study fueled by raging id and sheer hatefulness. Even at its most overwrought, there’s a certain delusional mania to the narrative that many outsiders among the audience will surely recognize. Majors’ performance is a revelation. (Shame he's a shitbag IRL.)

La Cocina (Alonso Ruizpalacios, 2023): 3/5

I approached this expecting a typical immigrant narrative, but I was completely unprepared for such a fascinating contextualization of NYC's working-class multicultural fabric. Altman would be proud...

 

Eephus (Carson Lund, 2025): 4/5

For my money, one of the two or three best baseball movies. A poetic and shaggy hang-out comedy, with ample meditation on time and death—Tyler Taormina plus Linklater. Feels 15 minutes too long, but that’s consistent with the movie’s themes.

 

The Rehearsal, Season 2 (Nathan Fielder, 2025): 4.5/5

Takes “overly elaborate” to dizzying heights. Amazing to watch Fielder try to get outside of his own life to look back inside it as an observer. This desire is probably at the root of all fiction, but it takes a genius to make this autistic disassociation the subject of a show. The Sully episode, with its use of puppets and people on stilts to recreate breast-feeding and the feeling of looking up at your parents when you were in your crib: a million chef’s kisses.

 

Warfare (Ray Mendoza, Alex Garland, 2025): 3.5/5

The feel-bad body-horror movie of the year, but at 86 minutes, anything is permitted. A total lack of context really gives it a “Huh, this just seems to be what humans do * shrug *” quality, in a blankly profound way.

 

* Thunderbolts* (Jake Schreier, 2025): 3.5/5

Not exactly wall-to-wall action but entertaining throughout due to good characters and dialogue. Pugh nails it, and Jack and I agreed that she rules. 

 

My Name is Alfred Hitchcock (Mark Cousins, 2022): 3.5/5

Fun film crit on AH’s themes and visual motifs, but long. Curious use of a fake Hitchcock voiceover.

 

* Sinners (Ryan Coogler, 2025): 2/5

Overlong and emotionally overwrought, with unoriginal story and imagery. The ‘conjuring spirits’ musical sequence I have heard called one of the best of the year gave me nothing but douche chills. Why twins? And if you’re a black filmmaker remaking a movie and coaxing out its underlying racial themes, why pick on a movie (From Dusk Until Dawn) directed by and starring Mexican people? 

 

Drop (Christopher Landon, 2025): 1/5

Modern cinema is increasingly a matter of looking at a screen showing people looking at screens. An idiotically contrived premise that the movie doesn’t seem to have any idea how to exploit for drama. Sometimes it’s nice to reset the old movie-quality yardstick.

 

Dating Amber (David Freyne, 2020): 3.5/5

A funny and sweet story about two gay kids banding together to survive high school in a tiny Scottish town. Reminded me of Sing Street (highest compliment). 

 

Twenty Years Later (Eduardo Coutinho, 1984): 2/5

In 1962, the peasants in Northeastern Brazil attempted to come together in a union to fight for better wages and working conditions, and of course the leaders were gunned down in the street. Terrible, but this could have been an email. 

 

Mother Hummingbird (Julien Duvivier, 1929): 4/5

A mother of two falls in love for the first time, with a younger man. After an amazingly ecstatic 45 minutes of falling in love involving a long and exuberant party scene, reality sets in. Very empathetic and vivid, told in long sequences with no intertitles. Pure cinema. Romantic, poetic, and finally tragic.

 

Ladies’ Paradise (Julien Duviver, 1930): 4/5

Filled with startling mise en scène, new here and never repeated. Multiple superimpositions. Faces in rictuses of the most extreme emotions. Rapid montage. Intrusive flashback images as psychological states. Plotwise, it’s like You’ve Got Mail if Meg Ryan (finally) runs across the street and shoots Tom Hanks in the heart. Culminates in a mass shooting at an ultra-modern French department store, followed by an old man being dragged under a delivery truck.

 

La tête d’un homme (Julien Duvivier, 1933): 4/5

A polite and witty French police investigation is disrupted halfway through by a Dostoyevsky-like, Nietzschian, above-the-law , Pickpocket type killer who shatters the mise en scène pretty radically. Open to shagginess, unpredictable beauty, and sexual frankness. Subverts a Maigret/Holmes cleverness: they figure everything out but what does it all mean?

 

Humphrey Bogart Film Fest

Raymond Chandler supposedly said Bogart was the right person to play Philip Marlowe because 'He looks tough without a gun in his hand.” And it is true that he plays a great rictus-fingered, face-twitching psycho, without or without a gun, especially in the earlier Warner Brothers movies. But the real measure of Bogart’s persona is that he could be tough while also being soft (They Drive by Night, High Sierra) or pathetic (Dead End, Black Legion, The Caine Mutiny). Bogart made 7 films with Curtiz, 6 with Huston, 5 with Walsh, 3 with Hawks, and 2 with Wyler.

 

Petrified Forest (Archie Mayo, 1936): 3.5/5

An emotionally rich adaptation on a hit play, with florid and romantic dialogue, starring this same cast. Bette Davis is (uncharacteristically) sweet, and Bogart is startling and intense. His performance is Kabuki: formally posed and full of striking stillness. 

 

Dead End (William Wyler, 1937): 3.5/5

Based on a hit play and completely set on an enormous, three-story set including a pool representing the East River. This is a pretty gentle portrait of a neighbor on the East Side of Manhattan, contrasting social strata. The large cast of characters includes The Dead End Kids (who were also actors in the play), a romantic triangle with college-educated but unemployed Joel McCrae and heavenly eyed Sylvia Sidney, and Humphrey Bogart as a gangster returning for a visit to the old neighborhood. Bogart to McCrae: “Six years you work in a college and all you get is handouts. I’m glad I’m not like you saps. I got mine. I took it.” One of seven movies Bogart made in 1937—studio system, man… Here Bogart is feral and twitchy—a violence that must be eliminated for the neighborhood society to continue.

 

Black Legion (Archie Mayo, 1937): 3/5

Bogart is passed up for promotion at his factory and is recruited into a group of nice men who tell him it’s all the foreigners’ fault (here meaning the Italians and Irish)—a science fiction story that could never happen in real life! Beatings, floggings and house-burning ensues, although since they’re wearing white robes and hoods, we are denied the pleasure of seeing Bogart perform these heinous acts himself. The last act is devoted to Bogart trying to extradite himself from the group after becoming disillusioned. Another one of seven movies Bogart made in 1937. Here Bogart is weak and afraid, and any violence he demonstrates is utterly shameful. 

 

Dark Victory (Edmund Goulding, 1939): 3/5

A classic weepy where Betty Davis learns that she must meet death “beautifully and finely.” Bogart reunites with Bette Davis (after The Petrified Forest, Marked Woman and Kid Galahad) as her horse groomsman with an occasional Irish accent—a nothing role. 

 

The Roaring Twenties (Raoul Walsh, 1939): 3.5/5

Quite a broad emotional tapestry, for a gangster movie. It has a romantic triangle, three war buddies with shifting loyalties, three nightclub-set songs and a dance. Cagney is a cocksure businessman, but Bogart is a killer on edge—lips drawn back with occasional ticks, not of a tough guy but of a neuralgic. The film’s 20-minute denouement (where Cagney falls, becomes a drunk and earns redemption) is great argument for a more feral and abrupt gun-down.

 

They Drive by Night (Raoul Walsh, 1940): 3.5/5

The first half is an engaging, human-sized, and action-packed melodrama that feels like one of Hawks’ “competent men (and a girl) at work” films. See the truck go off the road, down the incline and flip over (including a brief shot of body’s writhing in flame)! Unfortunately, when Ida Lupino shows up as (characteristically) the most bitter woman on earth, her self-destruction and insanity completely changes the tone of the entire set-bound back half of the movie. (As in real life), Bogart is the more sensitive and complex younger brother of George Raft. 

 

High Sierra, rw (Raoul Walsh, 1941): 4/5

Ida Lupino is top-billed and the story IS increasingly told from her point of view. Bogart is sprung from prison by a kindly mob boss and is assigned to rob a hotel. Sets a template for what makes Bogart so special: he’s tough enough to kick anyone’s ass but also sensitive and clever. Here is a gangster with an affinity for nature and a heart of gold—shamelessly expressed through love with a handicapped girl, then Ida Lupino, as well as a dern cute dog. And it’s true, the woman, girl and dog do make his fate more emotional. 

 

Sahara (Zoltan Korda, 1943): 3/5

An action-packed yet grim desert warfare film that pits a ragtag, international band of nine men against a battalion of 500 thirsty Germans. Bogart—on loan from Warner Brothers to Columbia—is a down and dirty yet empathetic leader despite his better judgement and someone who can be counted on to do the right thing against great odds. 

 

The Big Sleep, rw (Howard Hawks, 1946): 4.5/5

Bogart couldn’t be more relaxed and in charge, and each scene is a great pleasure to watch. Bacall is also perfect, and the scenes of them together are movie magic. “[Into the phone] Oh, YOU’RE the police.” “[To Bacall] Oh, he's the police.””[Back on the phone] “Oh well that's different."

 

Dead Reconning (John Cromwell, 1946): 3/5

A baroque noir detective story with ex-paratrooper Bogart, freshly back from the war, investigating the sudden death of his paratrooper buddy. Chock full of hardboiled voiceover. Femme fatale Lizabeth Scott is a handsome and husky-voiced Lauren Bacall type, but blonde and more inert. At one point she urges Bogart to give her a nickname, and so he calls her “Mike” throughout (!?). He also tells her, “I loved you, but I loved him [the paratrooper buddy] more.” Here Bogart seems to be open to romance but (correctly) has trust issues (and perhaps prefers guys?). He can’t be duped, really, and is a beat-up justice incarnate.

 

Knock on Any Door (Nicolas Ray, 1949): 2.5/5

Ray manages to smuggle some perversity into a handwringing youth-gone-astray courtroom melodrama, including overt homoeroticism in gang wrestling/fights as well as in some kiss-close conversations between Bogart and Derek. Features a very early-Method, James Dean-ish performance from John Derek, who says stuff like, “Nobody knows how anyone feels.” Bogart plays the overly earnest lawyer (!)

 

The Caine Mutiny (Edward Dmytryk, 1954): 2/5

I knew that we were in deep trouble when I saw this was “made with the full participation of the U.S. Navy, so we can use all the neato boats.” And indeed this is bloated with patriotic Navy baloney, light comedy, terribly dull naval battle footage, and a stiff as a protagonist. For the audience, Bogart’s crazy is welcome! Compared to the similar Mutiny on the Bounty, the stakes they are rebelling against are miniscule (no movies and frozen strawberries. Boo hoo!) Nothing, compared to the mysterious, exotic and sexy power of Tahiti vs the whip.

 

We’re No Angels (Michael Curtiz, 1955): 3/5

Bogart, Peter Ustinov, and Aldo Ray are all excellent, but the script swings freely from clever to overly sentimental in the way only a Christmas movie can. Bogart has moved from romantic lead to father figure.

 

The Desperate Hours (William Wyler, 1955): 

It’s great to see Bogart return to playing someone mean and violent, the first such role in this fest in 14 years but he's still got it. Here he breaks into not a safe but into the suburban dream itself, filling it with mockery and contempt. Fredrich March is also a great actor, and the two of them together are a joy to watch. Bogart would be dead 13 months after this film’s release, aged 58.

 The Assessment (Fleur Fortune, 2025): 4/5

As a person who also questions the soundness of bringing children into a world that appears destined to burn soon, I felt seen by The Assessment.

A solid and promising debut feature by Fleur Fortune. Nicely paced, focused tone and momentum and execution. Minimal-effects sci-fi that’s able to create this totally believable, lived-in world, without compromising the film with a metric fuck-ton of expositional clunk. Alicia Vikander runs away with it. What a wild, intense, bonkers performance. And Minnie Driver coming in like a tornado and kinda saying what I’d been thinking the whole time, lol. A genuinely interesting, compelling and thought-provoking sci-fi indie film.

Marie Antoinette (WS Van Dyke, 1938): 3/5

A romanticized and quite sympathetic look at the doomed French queen. There were a number of plot points that were taken directly from history (the necklace affair, the attempted escape, the rivalry with the preceding King's mistress and so on) and they're expertly woven into the overall narrative of the titular character. But the real star here is the extravagance of the production: the sets, the costumes, the HAIR! It's all on a scale that was huge even for MGM at the time.

Vivacious Lady (George Stevens, 1938): 4.5/5

A movie about the intoxicating power of a good kiss from a beautiful person. “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore” I wistfully murmur into my corn on the cob.

I love everything about this movie. I love that stank ass trick of a fiancée, I love that idiot cousin, I love that horrible father, but most of all, I love that I found the origin of that Hattie McDaniel gif. Also, Ginger Rogers got a stan out of me. My goodness she’s stunning here.

On Becoming a Guinea Fowl (Rungano Nyoni, 2024): 3/5
Very well made and deeply upsetting. Tradition versus Modernity might be one of cinema’s most enduring and rich themes.

Death of a Unicorn ( Alex Scharfman, 2025): 1/5

I’ve never had more faith in my creative abilities. Fucking dire. At least someone snorted the unicorn horn powder.

Blind (Eskil Vogt, 2014): 3/5

Kaufman does Kieslowski in Oslo. A tinkering with creative transference and an unsettling use of space. Feeling like she has no control left of the outside world, Ingrid (Ellen Dorrit Petersen) retreats into her inner one until it almost consumes everything. The lines get diffused and as an spectator you start to feel confused and lost, just like her. It must be hard. The anxiety, loneliness, anguish, fear and desperation. You go on with it because you want to know, she goes on with it because she wants to live.

The Annihilation of Fish (Charles Burnett, 1999): 3.5/5

This is not a film that signals its importance by veering into stylistic excess or formal austerity, and for many it will be viewed as lesser Charles Burnett and a specimen of post 90s indie quirkiness. But the trio* of performances that drive this film are pretty great and a testament to Burnett’s legendary equanimity and humanism. Seeing it at the age I am now probably has a lot to do with how I received it. The idea of a love story between a man who wrestles with his demons and a woman heartbroken over a lover she’s conjured up would have seemed precious at 19, but at 39 it resonates. The movie is deceptively complex with what it has to say about what happens when our demons and scars become longtime companions. It also helps if, unlike many contemporary moviegoers, you don’t have an aversion to the operatic. Madame Butterfly isn’t just there for window dressing. It’s a key to understanding how to read the film. I hope this film gets paired up at revival houses with Minnie and Moskowitz. The films have a lot to say to each other because they are made by directors with the two biggest hearts in all of late 20th century cinema.

 
*RIP James Earl Jones, Lynn Redgrave, and Margot Kidder.

Locked (David Yarovesky, 2025): 1/5

If Jigsaw was an insufferable conservative boomer.

Charlotte's Web (Iwao Takamoto, Charles August Nichols, 1973): 3/5

Television animation studio Hanna-Barbera (The Flintstones, The Jetsons) made the big-screen jump with this adaptation of the E.B. White children’s classic. It’s fair to say that the best stuff — including an honest consideration of mortality — comes directly from White’s plot and prose, while the additions (plaintive songs, an annoying gosling named Jeffrey) fail to add much.

The Friend (David Siegel, Scott McGehee, 2024): 1.5/5

Me throughout this entire movie: "CAN I PET THAT DAOWG"

The Shrouds (David Cronenberg, 2024): 3/5

Favorite line: "Grief is rotting your teeth."  

Not his best, for hardcore Cronies only. The raw emotion of his grief (this film is very much the director publicly processing the death of his beloved wife) is quite arresting at times.

Drop (Christopher Landon, 2025): 1/5

she literally tried everything but turning off her airdrop

Ronin (John Frankenheimer, 1998): 2.5/5 

Flighty and half-told, almost feels like a purposeful deterrent for plot holes but winds up nevertheless head-scratching by the end. Then again, we’re not here for narrative tautness, are we? The action is fine, and the acting supports that well enough—De Niro and Reno carry much of the load; smaller roles, in all fairness, aren’t given much to do—even when things get a bit dramatic (like the red-herring suspense of De Niro’s first venture to the Paris cafe); some gnarly car chases, too, but nothing nearly as memorable or exhilarating as the vehicular prowess of e.g. The French Connection, or Death Proof, or countless others. I’ve nothing bad to say about this other than, perhaps, I’ve nothing terribly good to say about it, either.

An American Crime (Tommy O'Haver, 2007): 1/5

First of all, the amount of famous people in this is astonishing. Second, it's a terrible film. One of the least ethical portrayals of a real crime I’ve ever seen.  Everyone needs jail time, right now. And if you're unfamiliar with the story of Sylvia Likens - don't read the details. Honestly, don't. You don't need that kind of horror in your life. 

Mickey 17 (Bong Joon Ho, 2025): 3.5/5

All the world-building, especially in the second act, is greatly appreciated. I liked Ruffalo’s tooth-licking performance too, but—like that of Pattinson’s—it’s so broad that it’s a matter of personal taste. A reminder that Bong Joon Ho’s movies are (usually) comedies.

 

Baby Invasion (Harmony Korine, 2025): 4/5

Narrative-free but visually astonishing, free flowing, hypnotic, and often beautiful. What it feels like (will feel like) to live within a totally mediated world—it’s as if we are wearing augmented reality glasses that add stuff to our view, making actual reality feel as morally weightless as a video game. If you can’t tell whether the other characters are humans in the actual world or NPCs at the virtual level, how easy is it to torture and kill them? Enders Game but Grand Theft Auto.

 

Duck Duck, 4m (Harmony Korine, 2019): 3/5

Like Berlin: Symphony of a Metropolis—but Miami, with Furries, old men skateboarding in hot dog costumes, and augmented reality everything. A sizzle reel warm-up for Baby Invasion.

 

Black Bag (Steven Soderbergh, 2025): 2/5

I don’t think I’m very interested in plot, and I’m definitely not interested in busting my brain trying to figure out stuff that dodo-bird David Koep and sadomasochist Soderbergh are deliberately not telling me. Also fuck John LeCarre. Just peeved that Kate Blanchett got plastic surgery. 

 

Dying for Sex (Shannon Murphy, Chris Teague, 2025): 4/5

Love Michelle Williams and this show’s frankness about sex and death. For me, very emotional. I love MW, and I’m glad she’s so beautiful here (after a very unglamorous turn as Gwen Verdon). Considering how much I liked this and We Live In Time, I’m beginning to think I have a thing for young blondes who are dying of cancer. Don’t kink-shame.

 

Adolescence (Philip Barantini, 2015): 3/5

The feel-bad hit of the year, though certainly a technical achievement in terms of camerawork, script and acting. Stephen Graham, man.

 

Becoming Led Zeppelin (Bernard MacMahon, 2025): 3/5

Four amazing musicians and the music is hot. Not sure what the last 20 minutes are doing since we spend much them listening to the album cuts while watching unsynced live footage and montages of newspapers and shit. LOL. Crazy that shy genius weirdo Jimmy Paige had the iron will to put a wild, psychedelic-orgasm freeform part in the middle of Whole Lotta Love.

 

The White Lotus, season 3 (Mike White, 2025): 2/5

I was vaguely bored for most of the runtime—begging for the characters to do something and for the situations to evolve. But no, everything remained pretty much static until the rushed and cursory death to wrap at least one of the threads up, anyway. The rest of the threads: shrug.

 

My Left Foot (Jim Sheridan, 1989): 3/5

In the tradition of The Elephant Man, DDL writhes in uncommunicable intelligence, dignity and loneliness. Towering performance.

 

The Boxer (Jim Sheridan, 1997): 2/5

All the characters hate DDL, but the film never says why. Something about The Troubles, or maybe we’re just supposed to know or maybe I just didn’t care. The direction is tragically choppy. We want to just sit there and watch DDL’s face, but Sheridan doesn’t let us see it for more than 10 seconds at a time. 

 

I’m Not a Robot, 22m (Victoria Warmerdam, 2024): 3.5/5

Stylistically a mixed bag, but good storytelling and some food for thought, regarding identity. Won the Oscar for best Live Action Short.

 

 

Thalberg Mini-fest

I just read The Genius of the System (recommended if you like movies).

 

The Flesh and the Devil (Clarence Brown, 1926): 3.5/5

This a prime Thalberg object has much to recommend it. John Garfield’s acting is unique and eye-catching. He leans in very closely to the men or women he interacts with, and it’s very powerful. Korina Longworth talks about how he was considered a genius at seeming to be in love with someone, but it seems to me that he loves (slash wants to fuck) whomever he shares the frame with, man or woman. Of course, he would soon be the stereotypical example of the guy who couldn’t make the jump to talkies (Brad Pitt in Babylon). Incredible that I haven’t even mentioned yet a very young and free Garbo as the two-way femme fatale. 

 

Camille (George Cukor, 1936): 3.5/5

Garbo is radiant as a Paris courtesan with a mirthless laugh and TB who enters into a damned love affair with nice guy Robert Taylor. Perhaps it is the newly recognized hand of Saint Thalberg, but this drama seems perfectly told and modulated. Interesting to discover that Cukor was an MGM journeyman for so long—he shot half of Gone with the Wind, for crying out loud.

 

Mutiny on the Bounty (Frank Lloyd, 1935): 3.5/5

Another perfectly told movie from Thalberg. Was the top grosser of the year, won the Best Picture Oscar, and it lasted so long in the public consciousness that Bugs Bunny has a great bit in “Mutiny on the Bunny” from 1950, where he shoves out his lower lip and says “Mr. Christian!” Contains a dreamy 15-minute idyll on Tahiti where Clak Gable (hot!) very definitely knocks boots with a native girl (played by a white woman, naturally). Woo woo! Of course, it can’t last: “Tahiti isn’t real. It’s that ship that’s real.” The “justice” of the ending is wonderfully ambiguous—and grounded in the different viewpoints of the two best friends, both moved by their experience in Tahiti. All this and Charles Laughton as one of the most odious villains in film history—as an actor he laps laps laps it up.

 

 

Early Short Films by Geniuses (?) Film Fest

 

Amblin’, 26m (Steven Spielberg, 1968): 2/5 

Silent cinema, with Mrs. Robinson-adjacent music and sound effects. It’s a sort-of comedy of hitchhikers, in a loose, Breathless way. Written by Spielberg. He was 22, and it shows.

 

The Dirk Diggler Story, 31m (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1988): 3.5/5

The depiction of gay porn (and gayness in general) didn’t age well, but when you compare this film to, say, Amblin’, the sophistication and mastery over several levels of the comedy and tragedy of these characters is truly impressive. PTA was 18.

 

The Suicide, 22m (Todd Haynes, 1978): 3.5/5

Takes the pain of a young boy very seriously. Circular, recurrent and obtrusive images, thoughts and memories swirl. Haynes was 17.

 

Dottie Gets Spanked, 30m (Todd Haynes, 1993): 4/5

A six-year-old boy fetishizes an I Love Lucy-type show, and as a plotline syncs up with his cycle of abuse, he takes steps to repress the whole thing. Touching and psychologically deep. 

 

There Will Be No Leave Today, 46m (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1959): 4/5

Tarkovsky scrambles sustained suspense and Eisenstein’s radical montage and basically invents modern cinema. Street repair workers uncover 30 unexploded WWII-era missiles, and soldiers must remove them and drive them out of the city without blowing up—like Wages of Fear, although Godzilla’s allegory of repressed war acts is in there too. Like his version of The Killers (1956), it betrays Tarkovsky’s interest in genre (he made two sci-fi films!) as well as suspense (I’m thinking of that scene in Andrei Rublev where we find out whether the newly forged bell will ring—or the scene in Nostalgia where the protagonist is trying to walk all the way across the pool without his candle going out). Tarkovsky was 27.

 

The Steamroller and the Violin, 46m (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1961): 3.5/5

What is stronger, a wrecking ball or music? Alternative answers: dreams, cinema, friendship, longing. Beautiful use of visual motifs such as red highlights everywhere and the sun glinting off mirrors, windows and (Tarkovsky’s beloved) water. 

 

White Man, 19m (Bong Joon-ho, 1994): 3/5

A white-collar worker finds a finger, opening the film up to Bong Joon Ho’s already characteristic horror, comedy, and social and economic critique. Bong Joon-ho was 25.

 

Influenza, 28m (Bong Joon-ho, 2004): 3.5/5

A crime spree depicted totally with (simulated) CCTV footage. The flat video and high vantage points makes the violence both more emptied out emotionally and more horrifically realistic in a Haneke way—although the humor is all Bong Joon-ho. 

 

 

Phil Karlson in the 50s Film Fest

Four of these films are from 1955 alone. Karlson started on Poverty Row, making The Shadow, Charlie Chan, Bowery Boys, and Abbott & Costello movies for places like Monogram Pictures. He would go on to direct Elvis in Kid Galahad (1962), as well as Walking Tall (1973), not to mention The Wrecking Crew (1968), the movie with Sharon Tate featured in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. 

 

Scandal Sheet, 82m (Phil Karlson, 1952): 3.5/5

A variation on the No Way Out situation where a young newspaper man is trying solve a murder that the audience knows his boss, the editor, committed. More murders follow as the noose tightens. John Derek (yes that John Derek) exudes a nice gee-whiz Kyle MacLaughlin energy. 

 

Kansas City Confidential, 100m (Phil Karlson, 1952): 4/5

Like Charley Varrick and Touchez Pas Grisbi, this is mostly about what happens after the successful heist. Dry, straight-forward and raw-fisted. Two of the three main hoods here are Lee Van Cleef and Jack Elam—do ya think that Sergio Leone might be a fan? Lead John Payne is solid, and Karlson would go on to use him in two other good films as well, including…

 

99 River Street, 83m (Phil Karlson, 1953): 4.5/5

An ex-boxer gets double-crossed twice by two different groups in the same night and must keep from going to jail for two different reasons. Populated by a bunch of cool killers, fisticuffs, strangulations, dames getting’ slapped, and shootouts. Jack Lambert, one of the great rat-faces in 50s villainy (see below), plays (what else) a gunzel. 

 

They Rode West, 84m (Phil Karlson, 1954): 3/5

“A young doctor brings compassion and modern ideas to the Old West” is a fine (and well-worn) theme, but it runs counter to Karlson’s stark and violent strengths—as does the non-urban milieu and Technicolor. Makes me admire Anthony Mann’s accomplishments in bringing dark intensity to the desert. 

 

Tight Spot, 97m (Phil Karlson, 1955): 2/5

A strange Star Vehicle in the middle of this run of cut-rate thrillers. Ginger Rodgers is charmless, doing a broad, 40s comic Born Yesterday thing, in what is otherwise a tense FBI vs. mob drama. By contrast Edgar G. Robinson nails it. Most of the drama takes place in one drab hotel suite. 

 

Hell’s Island, 84m (Phil Karlson, 1955): 3/5

At one point lead John Payne pushes a man over a piece of furniture, slaps the redhead, and says “I’ve been beaten, badgered, hit over the head, and mixed up in three killings. And believe me, I’m going to find out why. I’m through thinking, and I’ve had a belly-full of double talk.” Filmed in Technicolor and VistaVision (!) 

 

5 Against the House, 84m (Phil Karlson, 1955): 3/5

The first hour of this light-hearted casino heist with a romance is pretty boring. They set up the characters, there are some sub-Animal-House college-life hijinks, and Kim Novak (beyond beautiful) sings two (!) songs. It’s all worth it for an action-packed last half hour combining a casino heist and a character degeneration—Ocean’s 11 plus Taxi Driver, but worse.

 

The Phonix City Story, rw, 100m (Phil Karlson, 1955): 3/5

Takes pains to establish verisimilitude, which is fun, but the story is pretty rote—and is from my un-favorite, Mississippi Burning strand of dramaturgy. People stand up against a gang, and we watch the gang beat them up, throw their children out of cars, murder them, blow up their houses, etc. Violent, shocking, and noble, but kind of a drag.

 

The Rico Brothers, 92m (Phil Karlson, 1957): 3.5/5

All three Rico brothers are lower members of a criminal ring, but only one (Richard Conte) makes it out of the movie alive. The film leans on family drama instead of foregrounding Karlson’s strengths—vicious crime and violence. Andrew Sarris, who puts Karlson in my favorite category, “Expressive Esoterica,” calls this the director’s best film. 

 

Gunman’s Walk, 97m (Phil Karlson, 1958): 3.5/5

“One son in jail, the other moonin’ over a half breed. I don’t know which one shames me more.” A father who helped build the Old West town—with cattle and plenty of violence against natives—has trouble adjusting to how the town has changed, eschewing gunplay and integrating native people. It’s my second Tab Hunter film, after Polyester, and he’s surprisingly intense as the older son who follows his father’s violent ways into ruin. Are all Westerns “End of the West” movies? 

 

The Scarface Mob, 102m (Phil Karlson, 1959): 3/5

A stiff telling of the Ness vs. Capone story (it was a two-part pilot for the TV series version of The Untouchables, which ran from 1959-63). Robert Stack is stiff and one-dimensional—but that’s pretty much true to the character. Some nice scenes of tension, sex and violence. Yet: All this effort over a little booze? How did Ness feel when alcohol was legal again two years later?

 

Hell to Eternity, 131m (Phil Karlson, 1960): 3.5/5

Underrated and unheralded WWII Pacific-arena battle movie following the marines taking over the island of Saipan—using Guadalcanal survivors’ testimony for authenticity. Features (at least) two devastating scenes, one evoking Red Badge of Courage and the other Midsommar. A very modern take, since our protagonist was raised by a Japanese family and understands Japanese—and indeed the conclusion comes down to words rather than guns. 

 rewatched A Woman Under the Influence (John Cassavetes, 1974): 3.5/5

Some parts of this are absolutely genius; other parts are surprisingly insufferable, and not re: the personalities on display (wherein you could argue that the detestability is intentional), rather Cassavetes' style. While I do understand the repercussions of questioning the technique of such a prestige and distinct director—and perhaps my Cinephile Card will be revoked for saying so—I'd be fibbing if I said my attention weren't constantly ebbing during the longer stretches of supplementary hyperrealism he often implores.

There's been a trend in his catalog, though, from FACES to HUSBANDS to this, where the interludes feel more relevant and less superfluous; just as well, the most potent moments become even stronger, and the ratio heads upward. On top of that, A Woman Under the Influence has the advantage of Gena Rowlands giving the unhinged performance of a lifetime (that could easily be mistaken for legitimate nuttiness; I mean, seriously, how can someone act like that?).

The Parenting (Craig Johnson, 2025): 1/5

A fairly stacked cast piqued my interest, but this is fairly awful. None of the humor lands and the horror aspect doesn't feel that much better. A waste of talent on this drivel.

Adolescence (Philip Barantini, 2025): 3.5/5

A remarkable portrait of all-encompassing devastation, from its initial ripple effect until its final, irreversible cascade. Fantastic performances at every turn here, and the one-take thing is additive rather than a mere gimmick.

Ghostlight (Alex Thompson, Kelly O’Sullivan, 2024): 3/5

Towering central performances, lovely lived in detail, a sense of play that never overpowers a natural feel. If you love theatre and/or Manchester By The Sea, add a star.

Heart Eyes (Josh Ruben, 2025): 1/5

Bargain bin Eli Roth Thanksgiving which is already discount Scream

Emilia Perez (Jacques Audiard, 2024): 2/5

If one of the Cannes jurors last year were Mexican, I doubt this would have won the Jury Prize. Zoe's a joy to watch though. Her numbers are the best in the film by a mile. But this is a mess and a misfire. Only Almodovar could have pulled this off. Karla Sofia Gascon has presence. Looking forward to seeing her in better films. Adriana Paz does a lot with a little. And can someone explain to me why Edgar Ramirez continues to be wasted? The guy turned in one of the great performances of the 2010s and here he plays a role any telenovela himbo could have handled.

rewatched Only Angels Have Wings (Howard Hawks, 1939): 5/5 

Life as fire burning a match, rapid combustion with no time for grief. A passion for flying only matched by an inner death drive that is not a matter of choice, but of inexorable need. Lighting a friend’s cigarette is worth a thousand words, the only proper way of saying goodbye to a friend is by moving on with life. All of life’s dynamics in a microcosm of aviation. Absolutely unforgettable, just so forceful and deeply true.

Baby Invasion (Harmony Korine, 2025): 2/5

the only thing that worries me is that this looks like an art piece from a society about to collapse

The Last Picture Show (Peter Bogdonavich, 1971): 5/5

I refuse to believe that anyone could finish this without having died a little on the inside, irrevocably calcified by the reminder (or newfound knowledge) that such infinitesimal places did and still do exist—i.e. places engaged in a Sisyphean battle against the tedium of life and experiencing a collective slow death by inertia.

These former idylls melting into pits of desperation from which there is no escape. Bogdanovich’s aim feels neither condemning nor sadistic, though, and he finds ways to oddly but sincerely romanticize his barren template of Podunk, USA, often in the same exact sentence that he lays waste to some blanketed notion of security or comfort.

Every inhabitant of Anarene is either sad or confused or totally unsure of themselves—or, most often, some combination of the three—and if that’s not the most digestible portrayal of crumbling ruralism, then it’s the most honest. This is nostalgia without the rose-colored tint; Americana stripped of the storybook invincibility to which it often gets tethered when baked into reminiscences or exhumed from the deepest recesses of our sugar-coated memories.

We might look back on this tiny dirt-road town with fondness and warmth—with a yen for its non urbanized slowness and simplicity—but beneath the overly sentimentalized veneer are prisoners of their humble environment, a community destined for rot, and a lifestyle on the razor’s edge of extinction. Christ, I had to check my own pulse a few times to make sure I was still alive—the film is admittedly an endurance test of compound miserablism to some extent, so much so that its biggest narrative pivots feel excessive.

Like any train wreck, however, the larger the flame, the harder it is to look away, and Bogdanovich’s uncanny dexterity behind the lens and in the cutting room is a perfect complement to the gallery of entrenched performances from actors both young and old. Everyone’s great, but my MVP is Cloris Leachman—when her film-long piety finally cracks and she flings a fresh pot of coffee up at her kitchen cabinets, I swear I started bending my fingers backward to distract from the pain of watching it transpire.

To Catch A Thief (Alfred Hitchcock, 1955): 3/5

Somewhat middling for a Hitchcock picture, but ONLY because it’s a Hitchcock picture.

Opus (Mark Anthony Green, 2025): 2.5/5
If I were a newborn baby that’s never seen a movie before I’d be so shocked by the twists and turns of this one. 

(We as a society need to accept that the “strange things occurring in a retreat during a weekend” subgenre is played out and needs to stop.)

Mickey 17 (Bong Joon Ho, 2025): 2.5/5

There's almost certainly a different movie that wasn't chopped and recut (and revoiceovered, to the point you can hear different voiceover sessions back to back) to pieces in the edit. Whether it's better, I'm less confident, as I found it frequently incoherent and most of the major performance choices I kind of hated. (Toni Collette innocent!) Love you, Bong! Sorry! The creepers were cute!

Holland (Mimi Cave, 2025): 2.5/5
babe, wake up. there’s a new movie with nicole kidman and her shitty husband #37475. 

The Rule of Jenny Pen (James Ashcroft, 2025): 2/5

Raising Cain - The Late Years.

Credits just rolled and I still don’t understand at all why John Lithgow had to put on fake teeth, blue contacts, and an accent here but ok

Apart from the excellent performances by the two leads, particularly John Lithgow who really seemed to be having the time of his life and having a lot of fun playing the character, there's not much else that really stands out here.

The Horror elements are quite soft, as the movie actually works best as a metaphor of how when we get older we sometimes end up losing a big part of our "true selves", our autonomy and the essence that used to define us as individuals, and quite often that essence is completely lost.

 

 

The Monkey (Ozgood Perkins, 2025): 2.5/5

The family drama makes zero sense, so we’re left with the zany comedy of violent death. Which, amazingly, is nearly enough.  

 

The Fountainhead (King Vidor, 1949): 3.5/5

A very unusual experience. Startling framing and composition, including during a scene where, under Patricia Neal’s drooling gaze, Gary Cooper drills into a wall of granite, arm muscles bursting—a scene that is nakedly sexual enough to embarrass Freud himself. All the characters are just philosophical positions, but the ideas remain bracing. 

 

Within Our Gates (Oscar Micheaux, 1920): 3/5

Not strong dramatically, but full of violent and agit-prop images and harrowing situations, especially for its time. Equally amazing to see regular, normal black life in America, 1919. “The earliest movie from an African-American director known to still exist.”

 

Body and Soul (Oscar Micheaux, 1925): 3/5

Paul Robeson plays an itinerant preacher who is a baaaaaad man. Has the same penchant for flash-back that Within Our Gates has, sapping dramatic power but allowing Micheaux to present and explain late revelations. Paul Robeson played football at Rutger’s College, where he was the only black student, graduated from law school, played football in the NFL, served as a civil rights activist, and as a popular singer released 276 songs. Other than that, he did nothing with his life.

 

Garbo Screen Test, 6m (Joseph Valentine, 1949): 4/5

A screen test for a potential comeback. She starts by smiling broadly and warmly, and she’s a stranger. Then she closes her mouth and looks forlorn and toward the ceiling, and boom there’s Garbo. An incredible testament to her persona, and certainly what Warhol was intending to do with his own screen tests. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDErHzxZnSY

 

Angels Have Dirty Faces (Michael Curtiz, 1938): 4/5

Tough but warmly emotional Cagney is perfect in this entertaining YA gangster picture, the emotional conclusion of which hinges on whether Cagney cries while walking to the electric chair. 

 

Empire of the Sun, rw (Steven Spielberg, 1987): 3/5

Half Spielberg magic, energy and wonder—and half bogged-down hunger, sickness, misery and death. This kind of suffering is normally dished out to people of color (looking at you Ritwik Ghatak’s The Cloud-Capped Star). Here Spielberg makes a warm-up for Schindler’s List but only dares to depict real-life war camps with nice WASPs as the victims. Rated 3.8 on Letterboxd, same as fucking Close Encounters. 

 

Always, rw (Steven Spielberg, 1989): 2/5

In the first 10 minutes we get strong Only Angels Have Wings vibes and a three-person simultaneous three-way conversation that is a fine steal from His Girl Friday. But as the film cycles into a dumb supernatural Cyrano story, we discover that Dreyfuss is no Cary Grant. I actually usually like Dreyfuss, but he’s terribly miscast here and his anxiety brings out the most grating aspects of this character.

 

The First Slam Dunk (Takehiko Inoue, 2022): 4/5

As close a movie can come to the actual feeling of watching a good sports event, where you know and care about the players. 11-year-old Jack was as fully engaged as I was. The first time I’ve dipped into the surprisingly robust “sports anime” genre, but not the last. 

 

 

Frank Borzage Film Fest

“For Borzage, love was not a plot device; it was everything.”

 

Street Angel (Frank Borzage, 1928): 3/5

Borzage has a thing for tall, slim, male, gormless, sweet, naive, dumb, emotional, direct male protagonists, and I’m here for it (and him: Charles Farrell, also so fuckable …ahem …good… in Borzage’s 7^th Heaven, Lucky Star, and The River (not to mention Murnau’s City Girl.)

 

Bad Girl (Frank Borzage, 1931): 3/5

Despite the salacious title, this is the most straightforward drama-free possible romance where boy meets girl, woos her, they get married, she gets pregnant, he’s happy about it, she has the baby, and they live happily ever after. 

 

A Farewell to Arms (Frank Borzage, 1932): 3.5/5

Although it’s kind of a war picture, what really matters is the love connection between casual Hemingway Gary Cooper and innocent but good-to-go nurse Helen Hayes—lounging in gauzy, dappled shadow and light. After a shockingly frank pre- and post-sex sequence in the first act, Cooper is even permitted to mention that he has just taken her virginity. I love Adolphe Menjou as Cooper’s surgeon friend who constantly calls him “Baby,” with great affection. 

 

Man’s Castle (Frank Borzage, 1933): 3/5

A sweet love story among the Depression-era poor, where the main obstacle to the romance is that Spencer Tracy (while charming) is a negging asshole. I really like Loretta Young. She was 20 at the time, and this was her 50th film. 

 

Desire (Frank Borzage, 1935): 3.5/5

A funny, action packed, and clever second act makes up for an OK beginning and end. I’ve come to really love Gary Cooper. He’s naïve and handsome, and I prefer both him and Marlene Dietrich in this movie’s comedic, parodic mode. It’s her first film after her split from Von Sternberg, and she seems happy to let loose.

 

The Mortal Storm (Frank Borzage, 1940): 3/5

Clearly displays the whole Nazi thing in 1940–a contemporary protest document, of the (relevant) rise of the racist assholes. Also features Jimmy Stewart and a romance. As in The Sound of Music, the downbeat third act shifts into a long action sequence and an ultra-nationalistic evocation of god and country. 

 

 

Late Works Film Fest

I’m hit and miss on Karina Longworth’s You Must Remember This podcast, but I’m loving her most recent season, which focuses on the late careers of Hawks, Stevens, Minnelli, Preminger, and Wilder among others. It’s easy to find someone talking about Rio Bravo, but who is talking about the production and qualities of Red Line 7000 and King of the Pharaohs? No one!

 

Red Line 7000 (Howard Hawks, 1965): 3.5/5

In the tradition of Hawks movies where a company of men (and, more incidentally, women) competently ply their dangerous trade with bravery and a casual and cool stoicism—Only Angels Have Wings, Rio Bravo, Hatari, and Red River. This has a large cast of characters, all playing it cool while pairing off and falling in love, including at least four strong and distinct women (Longworth calls it the only Hawks movie from a woman’s point of view). It’s interesting to see Hawks’ trope updated to a sexually adventurous and explicit 1960s. Some excellent, real racing sequences, which were filmed first and then the drama was built around the footage. Also known for its prescient use of product placement and indeed the characters drink Pepsi from a huge lighted soda dispenser while hanging out in the courtyard of a Holiday Inn. 

 

King of the Pharaohs (Howard Hawks, 1955): 2/5

Lots of pageantry and a cast of thousands—these are not what I look for in a Hawks movie, but I suppose he succumbed to the widescreen blockbuster demands of the time. Dramatically turgid, and with horrible sexual politics and a protagonist who uh, owns tons of slaves. Worst sin of all: the costumes are incredibly ugly. Terrible script co-written by William Faulkner.

 

Greatest Story Ever Told (George Stevens, 1965): 2/5

Jaw-dropping landscapes (all shot in the American West) and some delicious Stevens ultra-slow crossfades. But Jesus, even portrayed by a typecast Max von Sydow, is a stiff—and the by-the-numbers retelling moves glacially. 

 

The Only Game in Town (George Stevens, 1968): 3.5/5

The only reason to watch this cracked romance between a Vegas showgirl and a piano player with a gambling addiction, adapted (barely) from a play, is for Warren Beatty and Elizabeth Taylor—and indeed that’s plenty. They are both excellent, and it’s a pleasure to watch them. Beatty’s first movie after Bonnie and Clyde; he wanted to work with Stevens. 

 

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (Vincente Minnelli, 1962): 3/5

I always like it when a character changes in the middle of a work, and here Glenn Ford is a feckless cad for half the film and the main actor in a cool spy thriller in the other half. Studio-bound and artificial, but not really in a bad way. Ingrid Thulin, so great in Bergman films like Cries and Whispers and The Silence, reportedly had a hard time on the set (her lawyer wrote a memo to Minnelli telling him he was not permitted to touch and move her body to demonstrate how to stand)—and eventually her voice was dubbed over by Angela Lansbury (of all people). These big epics demand expressive body language and gestural movements, the opposite of Bergman, where battles are all internal.

 

The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (Billy Wilder, 1970): 2/5

Dull, hazy, self-satisfied, and tainted by a first act full of gay panic. I can’t imagine how unwatchable Wilder’s beloved three-hour cut would be. 

 

Fedora (Billy Wilder, 1978): 3/5

An interesting pair with Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard, as William Holden deals with yet another reclusive and insane female movie star. This is one is, if anything, more cynical and despairing: “Monroe and Harlow. Those were the lucky ones.” The last hour (!) is a series of gonzo flashbacks that invoke both The Substance and What Ever Happened to Baby Jane—but that unfortunately don’t involve Holden at all. 

 

Skidoo (Otto Preminger, 1968): 3.5/5

Despite its horrendous reputation, I found this to be a pretty even-handed, funny, and LSD positive comment on the clash between the (naive, confused and hypocritical) youth-culture and the squares (here represented by not only “the man,” but also by those who are forced to participated in the movie’s “gangster drama.”). Any movie where the head of a crime family is named “God” and is played by Groucho Marx (the ultimate Little Dickens) is too complex and fun to dismiss as a mere failure.

 

 

Hong Sang-Soo Film Fest

The modern director whose works feel the most like those of (my beloved) Ozu to me. Interested in repetition and variation. Serene and full of forgiveness for his characters. 

 

List, 29m (Hong Sang-Soo, 2011): 3/5

A sweet romance where the irony comes both from the romantic formula (made bare in the form of a literal list) as well as from what we know Hong Sang-Soo’s director characters are always ultimately like. 

 

Our Sunhi (Hong Sang-Soo, 2013): 3/5

A young woman has three very very similar conversations with three men who like her, with the same phrases popping up again and again and passed around among the four of them. 

 

Nobody’s Daughter Haewon (Hong Sang-Soo, 2013): 2.5/5

One of HSS’s least playful, formally, although there is some twinning and looping of situations, which for once feels redundant rather than additive. Also, for once, our lead actress (who HSS only used in a small part in one other film) is amateurish—something that reminds me that the acting is always excellent in his films.

 

Hotel by the River (Hong Sang-soo, 2018): 3.5/5

A uniquely somber tone, emphasized by the wintery setting and cinematography. Searching, philosophical, and open-ended. contrasts a father and his estranged sons with two women in the same hotel. The men are separated from one another and their own emotions and the women have a close and emotional bond. “People have two minds. One that walks on the street and the other that communes with the eternal.”

 

In Front of Your Face (Hong Sang-Soo, 2021): 3.5/5

Performs a kind of magic trick two-thirds of the way through—where something so real and out of character for Hong Sang-soo happens that I was sent scurrying to IMDB to check on the real-life health of Lee Hye-young, the main actress.

 

Introduction, 1h6m (Hong Sang-Soo, 2021): 2.5/5

This one is not well liked on Letterboxd, so I was sure I was going to find something about it that everyone was missing, but nay not so. Just some disconnected scenes from the life of a young man who seems intent to have a deep conversation with someone, but never manages to.

 

Walk Up (Hong Sang-Soo, 2022): 3/5

Tells the story of 5 or 10 years in a director’s (typically self-centered and blithe) life, as he moves from the ground floor, to the second floor, to the top floor of an apartment building. No real formal trickery unless you count non-signposted temporal leaps.