Mar 1, 2025

Best Premiere Viewings of February 2025

FEATURES:

1. Pigen med nålen / The Girl with the Needle (Magnus van Horn, 2024)


Danish actress Vic Carmen Sonne delivers a career-defining performance in the starring role of Magnus van Horn’s harrowing period piece – a viscerally beautiful post-WWI drama that pulls no punches in its grimy and raggedy portrayal of maternal phobias thornily intertwined with existential dread. Playing out like the darkest of the Grimms’ fairy tales, with wraiths and witches disguised as ‘humans’, it is best experienced by knowing as little as possible about the (true case) story, particularly its nightmarish third act. Right from the impactful opening montage of distorted faces that wouldn’t feel out of place in a horror movie, this pitch-black drama plunges you into the muddy waters of pain, relieving it only through a few glimmers of hope, one of which is (mercifully!) saved for the epilogue. Directed with no prejudice or moralizing, and framed in brutalist, high-contrast B&W that – synergized to the ominously minimalist score – elevates the stunning recreation of the period, The Girl with the Needle is an instant modern classic that will haunt you long after the end.

2. The Illiac Passion (Gregory J. Markopoulos, 1967)


Led by Prometheus, the characters of the Greek mythology dream themselves into the NYC underground art scene of the time, bound to their cursed fates in a series of stilted rituals. Ancient stories are deconstructed beyond recognition in their becoming of tools for experimenting with the possibilities of cinema, as well as for externalizing the innermost thoughts and emotions of the author himself. And he acts as a hypnotist, his voice-over narration defining the rhythm through incessant repetitions – a Dadaesque recitation that robs the words of their meanings, letting the images speak or rather, wash over the viewer. Occasionally pierced by operatic interludes, they are dreamily captured on 35mm, with dense shadows veiling the naked bodies of increasingly homoerotic vignettes. The portrayals of love, passion, anguish, exploration, disorientation, and death are imbued with sensuality and esotericism; a dash of humor provided by Andy Warhol as Poseidon riding an exercise bike. 

3. The Monkey (Osgood Perkins, 2025)


An explosive mixture of over-the-top splatter and laugh-out-loud-through-tears black humor, The Monkey is Osgood Perkins’ most entertaining flick to date. Directed with tongue firmly planted in its author’s cheek, it effortlessly earns the ‘crowd-pleaser’ label, providing you with a highly enjoyable big-screen experience. It addresses the central theme of death with a big, nightmarish grin seen on the titular (and cursed) monkey toy that causes people to meet their maker in ‘insane, headline-making ways’, to quote the director’s exact words on his parents’ demise. Deliberately cartoonish, this playful horror comedy gives off some 80’s cult-movie vibes in a technically competent package enhanced by the velvety voice of Theo James in the lead.

4. Alice in Wonderland (Jonathan Miller, 1966)


One of the trippiest made-for-TV films, Jonathan Miller’s adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s famous book sports the looks of an offbeat Victorian period piece, with all the fantastical characters from the novel given human faces – belonging to who’s who of British theatre and comedy scene, from Michael Redgrave and Micheal Ghough to Peter Cook and Peter Sellers. Psychedelic heights are reached through hyper-histrionics, with the exception of Alice (Anne-Marie Mallik in her only screen appearance) whose sullen and bored expressions hint at her realizing that everything is but a loony dream. The 70-minute running-time is made the most of, as the rampant absurdity is ‘exotified’ by Ravi Shankar’s sitar-heavy score, and amplified by weird camera angles of Dick Bush who would later collaborate with Ken Russell (Mahler, Tommy, The Lair of the White Worm) and William Friedkin (Sorcerer), his beautiful B&W cinematography underscoring Miller’s peculiar treatment of the source material.

5. City Streets (Rouben Mamoulian, 1931)


In her first starring role, Sylvia Sydney brings both charm and range into the role of a sassy girl, Nan Cooley, whose beer racketeer stepfather (Guy Kibee, ominously smiling) gets her into some serious, behind-the-bars trouble. Partnering Sydney in his impressive height and handsome prime is Gary Cooper playing the most Western-ized of characters, The Kid – a dexterous if slightly naive shooting gallery showman who joins the gang in order to save his sweetheart. Between these two, there is a lovely chemistry, sparkling brightest in the prison visit scene, when they struggle to touch and kiss through the wired obstacle, and raunchiest during their date at the fair and beach, thanks to the suggestive pre-code dialogues. Of course, one can’t help but root for their romance to work out, as Mamoulian leads us through the ‘amor vincit omnia’ story at a brisk pace. His direction feels quite effortless, particularly during the suspenseful sequences, whereby his stylistic choices – the ‘ceramic’ portrayal of the catty scheme, for example – are always spot-on, and often ahead of their time, making this gangster-noir a highly recommended watch. 

6. Äratus / Awakening (Jüri Sillart, 1989)


The first directorial effort from cinematographer Jüri Sillart is a harrowing yet expertly framed story of 1949 March deportation of Estonian people to Siberia by Soviet Secret Police NKVD. One of the initial scenes depicts women and children – who comprised the great majority of victims – squeezed in cattle wagons, and it alone makes the viewing experience distressing. Dense shadows appear alive, threatening to swallow the silent faces, frozen in confusion and/or fear, and later on, close-ups become important means in portraying all participants in the aforementioned event, from drunken officers to cold-eyed collaborators of the Stalinist regime. Assisted by the dedicated cast, Sillart opts for a stylized, or rather desentimentalized representation, imbuing the proceedings with borderline absurdist vibes, and ensuring precise cuts in his dissection of post-WWII evil. The timelessness of Awakening is an unfortunate trait...

7. The Brutalist (Brady Corbet, 2024)


Impressively shot, its VistaVision cinematography being nothing short of magical, and reinforced by strong performances, particularly from Adrien Brody in the leading role, and Guy Pearce as the capital antagonist, the third feature-length offering from actor-turned filmmaker Brady Corbet is also his finest directorial effort. Although somewhat hampered by the author’s heightened ambition (not to mention the unforgiving running time of almost three and a half hours), The Brutalist often comes close to greatness comparable with the 20th century epic-scope dramas that certainly served as sources of inspiration. A bleak, existentialist tale of an unflattering immigrant experience – portended by the protagonist’s skewed view of the Statue of Liberty upon his arrival to America – is so elaborate that one may be tricked into believing that a brilliant architect and Holocaust survivor, László Tóth, was a historical figure. The authenticity of his struggle – anchored in Brody’s becoming one with his character – is accentuated by a comprehensive recreation of the period that – it won’t hurt to repeat – looks stunning through the lens of Lol Crawley’s camera.

8. A Bear Named Winnie (John Kent Harrison, 2004)


A lovely made-for-TV tear-jerker bolstered by a pretty solid cast. In addition to being a great actor, Michael Fassbender knows his way with animals, particularly the sweet bear cub that the story revolves around, and that inspired the character of Winnie Pooh.

9. The Gorge (Scott Derickson, 2025)


Anya Taylor-Joy and Miles Teller spark some great chemistry from the very moment their characters start through-the-binoculars courtship. Stationed in Brutalist towers on the opposite sides of the mysterious gorge, both of them are skilled operatives on a mission of keeping whatever’s down there from reaching the surface. She’s from the East, he’s from the West, and the decades old secrets their higher-ups have been keeping are gradually revealed in a genre mashup that entertains even at its most ridiculous, largely thanks to the leading duo’s combined charisma and seriousness. (Personally, I enjoyed this flick more than, let’s say, Nosferatu, cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to release it directly to streaming services.) Sweet romancing clears the way for some shoot-em-up survival in a conspiratorial creature-feature setting that brings to mind Annihilation, Silent Hill and the Resident Evil series, with pretty cool monster designs heavily inspired by Zdzisław Beksiński’s artwork. Derickson directs with a decent sense of pacing and tonal shifts, assisted by propulsive score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, as well as by handsome lensing provided by Dan Laustsen (Nightmare Alley). It goes without saying that an additional injection of suspended disbelief won’t hurt.

10. Luka (Jessica Woodworth, 2023)


Based on Dino Buzzati’s 1940 novel The Tartar Steppe (which I haven’t read), Luka is the most Brutalist feature since Jóhann Jóhannsson’s 2020 offering Last and First Men. Filmed around the Blufi dam – an unfinished yet imposing concrete edifice in Sicily, and gorgeously photographed in ashen B&W on Super 16 by DoP Virginie Surdej, it marks Jessica Woodworth’s first solo directorial effort, her partner Peter Brosens credited as one of the producers. Stylish, if dramatically frigid, the film features an international ensemble cast of largely male actors, with the veteran Geraldine Chaplin as the only woman jumping into the role of The General. The absurdity of authoritarianism rooted in blind ‘obedience, endurance, and sacrifice’ is the name of the gloomy, post-apocalyptic game, as a unit of soldiers wait for a mythical enemy in the Kairos fortress. Following the arrival of a young sniper, Luka (Jonas Smulders), the foundations of the stern micro-society are shaken in more ways than one. In-between their everyday chores (and nocturnal releases of feral energy through ritualistic mock-fights), our hero establishes a friendly relationship with a sprightly private, Geronimo (Django Schrevens), and a brooding communications expert, Konstantin (Samvel Tadevossian), the trio operating as the story’s well-hidden emotional core. Woodworth is more concerned with establishing a bleak atmosphere that would reflect the military-minded oppressiveness, rather than providing a traditional narrative, and to a certain degree, she succeeds in seducing you with the absorbing monochromatic imagery, if that’s your poison.

11. The Witcher: Sirens of the Deep (Kang Hei Chul, 2025)


The second animated feature of The Witcher universe – a follow-up to Nightmare of the Wolf (2021) – is an adaptation of Andrzej Sapkowski’s short story A Little Sacrifice that is a variation on H.C. Andersen’s The Little Mermaid. Beautifully animated by South Korean Studio Mir (Big Fish & Begonia), and founded in pretty solid voice-acting, the film takes some liberties with the source material, ‘Krakens’ things up, and subverts the ending that will surely polarize the viewers and critics alike. Personally, I found the twist to be refreshing, and the addition of a new antagonist befitting of the anti-establishment times we live in. Though it’s not a revelatory addition to the dark fantasy subgenre, ‘Sirens of the Deep’ is a fun little romp reminding us that the real monsters often have ‘human’ faces.

12. The Foreigner (Amos Poe, 1978)


“I’m useless to a society of useless. I feel out of place... I’m only driven by this eternal defeat. I have nothing to look ahead and nothing to regret. I only have the present.”

A solid chunk of No Wave Cinema, The Foreigner strikes me as the most unruly feature I’ve seen in a long while – think Godard meets Morrissey on heavy drugs. It plays as an improvisational riff on spy thrillers, its guerrilla immediacy, freewheeling direction, narrative ambiguities, strange frequencies, and off- to low-key to screen-munching performances glued together by the abrasive-yet-cohesive beauty of the 16mm imagery. Evocative of urban alienation, the film is pervaded by the eerily relatable feeling of existential dread, best summarized in a (partially quoted) monologue by its protagonist, Max Menace – a European secret agent who roams the streets of New York... and at one point encounters a mysterious woman with an echoing voice played by none other than Debbie Harry of Blondie fame. 

SHORTS:

1. История одной провокации (Сергей Винокуров & Андрей Черных, 1990) / The Story of One Provocation (Sergey Vinokurov & Andrey Chernykh, 1990)


During the 60’s, a young teacher’s delusion of persecution alters her reality, and plays with the viewer’s perception in a Kafkaesque, paranoia-fueled neo-noir / psychological thriller that perfectly fits in the drawer labeled ‘obscure late-Soviet gems’. A fragmented, labyrinthine narrative is brilliantly framed on 35mm, with virtually every camera angle knowingly employed to mirror the protagonist’s deeply troubled state of mind. The foreboding music accentuates the transformation of her fears into KGB phantoms who speak in her own echoing voice. The Story of One Provocation marks my first encounter with Vinokurov who makes his debut here, and the second one with Chernykh whose 1991 feature Austrian Field blew my mind last year. 

2. Cygne II (Absis, 1976)


The second part of a cine-diptych – the sole directorial credit for journalist turned filmmaker Absis – opens with a voice-over narration by Michael Lonsdale succeeding Marguerite Duras from Cygne I. Composed as a living painting, the single-shot short depicts a woman in a white dress (Colette Fellous), a smiling girl in black, probably representing Grim Reaper (the author herself), and a wounded man (Jean-Baptiste Malartre), in a sensual interplay of ‘light, voice, music and movements’. Extremely elegant, the chiaroscuro ‘tableau vivant’ reflects the closing words of Duras’ monologue from the first part: “Pleasure of creating oneself, of creating, through the force of one's own desire.” Beautiful.

3. Cigarette Burn (Amy Halpern, 1978)


4. A Dream of Dolls Dancing (Christiane Cegavske, 2017)