FEATURES
1. In Cold Blood (Richard Brooks, 1967)
Directed with a great sense of gritty, ahead-of-its-time style, and edited with such a precision that virtually every cut and transition serve both the narrative flow and the aesthetics, ‘In Cold Blood’ is a powerful blend of a gripping character study and detailed true crime reconstruction adapted from the book of the same name by Truman Capote. The handsome lensing by Conrad Hall (who shot Esperanto-spoken horror ‘Incubus’ in 1966), and Quincy Jones’s odd jazzy score that must’ve influenced Badalementi’s contribution to Lynch’s finest works grab the viewer’s attention within the very first seconds, and hold it firmly until the unsettling conclusion. On top of that, the sparkling dynamics between Robert Blake – thirty years before turning into iconic Mystery Man of ‘Lost Highway’ – as mentally unstable Perry Smith and Scott Wilson as a charismatic bad boy, Richard ‘Dick’ Hickock, make the film all the more compelling.
2. Chime (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2024)
Complemented by the dreariest of grays, blue is the coldest color in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s unnerving mood piece that amplifies the fear of the Unknown, as it raises a number of questions and provides not a single answer. During the brief running time of 45 minutes, the line between existential and metaphysical dread is blurred, with the nightmare of mundanity seeping from the film’s odd reality into our despondent own, to remain ever-present at the back of one’s mind, and under the skin, long after the credits have rolled. A puzzle of no and infinite solutions, ‘Chime’ is also a masterclass in austere formalism, its acutely haunting sound design and (f)rigidly taut cinematography emphasizing the combined terror of day-to-day coping and a mysterious force behind the (unheard) chime. On top of that, Mutsuo Yoshioka gives an eerily transfixing performance in the role of a chef turned instructor whose life takes a phantasmal turn only to leave both him and the viewer hanging halfway towards nowhere.
3. Kurak Günler / Burning Days (Emin Alper, 2022)
Creating tension in the most banal of situations, such as a dinner party, Emin Alper directs his (superb!) neo-noir thriller with an assured hand, assisted by powerful performances from the entire cast, particularly the leading man Selahattin Pasali, beautiful widescreen framing by Greek cinematographer Christos Karamanis, tight editing by Eytan Ipeker and Özcan Vardar, and unobtrusively foreboding music from Petzold’s regular collaborator Stefan Will. Psychologically intricate, politically provocative and cinematically commanding, ‘Burning Days’ touches upon a variety of issues, including populist scheming and corruption, as well as deeply rooted misogyny and homophobia in a toxic patriarchal environment, with the setting – an imaginary small town and the surrounding desert ‘speckled with’ sinkholes – mirroring the characters’ inner states, and barely containing the conflict about to erupt. The film’s cryptic coda is like a cherry on top.
4. Meet Joe Black (Martin Brest, 1998)
It’s been awhile since I watched a three-hour-long film that felt twice as shorter, leaving me with a luminous impression of being a part of a genuinely heartwarming moment. A romantic in me was utterly smitten by the breezy, even saccharine illusion, wishing there were more features in which Claire Forlani and Brad Pitt at their stunning prime caressed each other with virtually every penetrating, blue-eyed look exchanged... 
5. Sanctuary (Zachary Wigon, 2022)
‘Good Luck to You, Leo Grande’ meets ‘Venus in Fur’ in Zachary Wigon’s sophomore feature that has enough idiosyncrasies to feel like neither of the two films I’m comparing it with. (Besides, it was released just three months after the former.) A romantic comedy disguised as a psychological drama/thriller (or is it vice versa?), ‘Sanctuary’ subtly subverts the viewer’s expectations, boldly blurring the boundaries between the role play (of domination and submission) and true identities of its only two characters, and bending the genres at its own whim without ever feeling contrived. Unfolding in a large hotel apartment and the hallway leading to the elevator, it easily overcomes its stagy setting through some carefully chosen camera angles (kudos to DoP Ludovica Isidori!) that correspond with the protagonists’ inner workings, as Ariel Marx’s mood-swinging score does a fine job at heightening the tension in their battle of wits, as well as evoking a wide range of emotions. But, it is the leading duo of Margaret Qualley as Rebecca and Christopher Abbott as Hal that anchors the story, their remarkably nuanced performances pulling you ever deeper into the tricky game of shifting power dynamics...
6. The Firebird (Barbara Willis Sweete, 2003)
Despite its low, TV-special budget, ‘The Firebird’ is a lovely adaptation of ancient Russian fairy tale set to the mesmerizing ballet score by Igor Stravinsky, and most elegantly choreographed by James Kudelka. Its minimalist set design which is employed in all scenes is a minor setback, considering the energy and beauty emitted by the dancers of National Ballet of Canada, including sublimely graceful Greta Hodgkinson in the titular role, charming Aleksandar Antonijević as Prince Ivan, ethereal Rebekah Rimsay as Princess Vasilisa, and imposing Rex Harrington as Kastchei the Demon.
7. Harem Suare / Last Harem (Ferzan Özpetek, 1999)
Four are the main reasons why ‘Last Harem’ deserves wider recognition: the lavish art direction by Bruno Cesari and Mustafa Ziya Ülkenciler, the intricate costume design by Alfonsina Lettieri, the warm lighting of Pasquale Mari’s beautifully composed frames, and the utterly magnetic presence of Marie Gillain in the role of the sultan’s multilingual concubine, Safiye. Laced with subtle eroticism, and directed with an unhurried pace and solemn care that require the viewer’s patience, the drama takes place at the turn of the 20th century, and focuses on the background of events that would lead to the abolition of the Ottoman sultanate. A gentle meditation on love, storytelling, and the elusive nature of freedom, the film seduces you with its poise, and melancholic soul.
8. Giornata nera per l'ariete / The Fifth Cord (Luigi Bazzoni, 1971)
Hands down, one of the most elegantly shot pieces of giallo cinema – cinematographer Vittorio Storaro (who would frequently collaborate with Bertolucci) is a show-stealer.
9. Blink Twice (Zoë Kravitz, 2024)
Thematically sensitive, and visually inspired, directorial debut from Zoë Kravitz sees her fiancé Channing Tatum stripped off his usual good-guy image, and jumping into the murky or rather, slimy waters of villainy, along with Simon Rex, Christian Slater, Haley Joel Osment, and Kyle MacLachlan in a ‘triple cameo’ role. The ensemble cast of familiar faces also includes Geena Davis, yet the story is carried by Naomi Ackie as a nail artist and waitress, Frida, whose party-of-a-lifetime dream comes true at a nightmarish price. The film is largely set on a too-good-to-be-true paradise island, and Kravitz throws in hints that something is terribly off, not only through the character of an ostensibly creepy maid (code: Red Rabbit), but also through a bunch of foreboding details and alerting montage sequences. As her thriller passes from a psychological to a revenge territory, the suspense is ratcheted up, and the garish color palette makes way for the cold nocturnal hues and candle-lit filth that intensify the sinister aura surrounding Tatum’s antagonist. Although the ingredients are all pretty much familiar, ‘Blink Twice’ is a tasty, if not entirely intoxicating cocktail that marks a promising start for its creator.
10. Kinds of Kidness (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2024)
Teetering on the verge of a mannerist self-parody, the latest offering from Yorgos Lanthimos takes the most ardent of fans to be fully appreciated. Super-awkward, unapologetically deadpan and excessively long in its probing of human condition, and challenges of contemporary existence, ‘Kinds of Kidness’ often trades its soul for the overemphasized rigidity of form, challenging not only one’s patience, but ‘absurd-o-meter’ as well. Its cynically humorous nature that knowingly provokes frustration finds both its anchor and alleviators in Robbie Ryan’s austerely beautiful framing, and Jerskin Fendrix’s masterly discordant score.
SHORTS
‘A film about the dominance of time and space over a human being’, in the words of the author himself, ‘Acceleration’ is a seven-minute meditation on loneliness, alienation and transience, framed with engineer’s precision (Martinac was an architect by profession), yet sublimely poetic in its depiction of Mediterranean ambiance. A quote by T.S. Eliot – ‘in my beginning is my end’ – perfectly sets the tone of this melancholic bravura.
Coming across like a fragmented tone poem of solitude, ennui and transience, this (unfinished?) short by Joseph Cornell reveals the beauty of urban decay as seen through the eyes of a young woman (the directors’s alter ego?) wandering around the city, as well as from the perspective of children playing in the streets. The grainy texture of 16mm cinematography – shrouded in complete silence – intensifies the feeling of dreamy melancholy which pervades the portrait of New York’s unglamorous, yet mysterious face.
A most impressive piece of fan fiction, ‘Alien: Monday’ is the true labor of love by a creative duo of Paul Johnson and Claudia Montealegre who did all the heavy lifting, from character, mechanical and background design to 3D modeling, inking, coloring and shading to scriptwriting, animating and directing, with Scary Good Studio (Randy Greer) providing sound effects and minimalist score, and Gabriel Rosauro credited as tech support. Six years in production, this 15-minute short (+ four minutes largely dedicated to whom I presume to be Patreon supporters or crowdfunders) looks and feels like a golden era (80s / 90s) anime set in the ‘Alien’ universe, as it chronicles a close encounter of Monday-hating technician Ashlin with Xenomorph on mining hauler Thanatos. In accordance with the iconic tagline of Ridley Scott’s 1979 film – ‘In space, no one can hear you scream’, silence is often employed to heighten the tension or convey the cosmic vacuum, and breaking it along with Greer’s haunting interventions are the voices of Sara Secora as Ashlin and Phillip Sacramento as ship computer Conrad. And if you watch closely, you may notice some non-Alien Easter eggs hanging on the walls of the Thanatos interior...
No comments:
Post a Comment