There is a lot to unpack where it comes to Midsommar, and a lot of it is definitely, a defiantly, worthy of additional dissection and debate.
This latest effort to carry the Shaft name isn’t unwatchable but it equally isn’t worthy of a look, either, all of which makes shutting my mouth about its various missteps and shortcomings impossible to do.
While my initial trepidations in regards to Rob Letterman’s latest proved to be somewhat unfounded, it still wasn’t like Pokémon Detective Pikachu won me over entirely.
Sunset is a daring, thought-provoking motion picture that overflows in disturbing resonance, Nemes drawing parallels between the personal saga of a woman looking for answers to questions she didn’t even initially know, the birth of WWI and the groundwork for the fascist resurgence we’re seeing in the United States and several European countries right this very second here in the 21st century over a hundred years after this story is set.
Long Day’s Journey Into Night is a piece of cinematic poetry where every syllable, every beat, has wormed its way into my soul and has aggressively refused to release its vice-like grip. It is a divine exercise in acrobatic filmmaking eccentricity, seeing this film in all its theatrical glory a feat of storytelling legerdemain few who witness it firsthand will soon forget.
Out of Blue is something imaginative and unique even as it traverses some fairly rudimentary determined cop murder mystery thriller terrain. Whether this is a positive or a negative I cannot say.
Who are we? Where do we come from? Where do we go from here? Are we alone in the universe? These are just a few of the questions Prometheus asks, the end product not so much reaching for answers as it is more interested in reigniting the cooling embers of an age-old debate.
McTeigue’s thriller is a massive missed opportunity, The Raven leaving my tell-tale-heart wanting and to the idea of ever watching it again in the future I can boil my feelings down to a single word: Nevermore.
Sound of My Voice is haunting me. I find myself mulling over various segments in a way that has dug under my skin in some sort of uncomfortably luscious fashion, burrowing its way into the very marrow of my bones.