The Wind is outstanding. Emma Tammi’s film has a delicately austere power that is poetically horrifying in its overall windswept magnitude.
The Wind is a haunting foray into isolation and madness that has far more to say about what it is to be a strong, resolute woman than some may initially think it does, its windswept howls for acceptance and understanding helping make this motion picture a timeless stunner I’ll be thinking about and deconstructing for a very long time to come.
Problem is, little of it is clear. Worse, most of it gets drowned in so much guts and gore, not to mention irredeemably abuse and sexism, listening to it is close to impossible. The Hateful Eight has lots to love, but just as much to abhor, making it something an elegant enigma that’s as frustrating as it is impressive.
I respected Casa de mi Padre far more than I enjoyed it, director and “SNL” veteran Matt Piedmont never striking the right balance between playing things straight while still wink-winking at the audience as if everyone knows just how absurd all of this is.
There Will Be Blood is a singular achievement, and while the feelings the film generates are ones contaminated with disgust and revulsion, the discussions they also promote are certain to last for a lifetime.
Within the framework of this film it truly is No Country for Old Men, and as that harsh realization presents itself the only emotion left is a form of quietly overpowering grief.
Serenity is one of 2005’s most irresistible pleasures filled with strong performances, breathtaking action sequences, remarkably affecting emotional nuances and a collection of surprising twists and turns, Whedon crafting one of the most blissfully entertaining movies I’ve seen this year.