FEATURES
1. Someone from Nowhere (Prabda Yoon, 2017)
Puzzling. Opaque. Ouroboric. Mind-bending. Thought-provoking... These are some of the labels that can be attached to the sophomore feature from multidisciplinary Thai artist Prabda Yoon. A chamber psychodrama laced with surreal touches, ‘Someone from Nowhere’ plays out like a rather subtle deconstruction of a home invasion thriller growing into an insightful exploration of identity crisis, or the possibility of parallel realities overlapping in a nightmarish loop. Featuring only a couple of characters stuck in a modern, neatly furnished apartment for most of its running time, the (unsolvable?) mystery is anchored in a slow-burning battle of their wits, with both Chayanit Chansangavej and Peerapol Kijreunpiromsuk giving nuanced performances. Operating as leitmotifs are Henri Rousseau’s 1907 painting ‘La Charmeuse de Serpents’, and an unfinished Brutalist skyscraper introduced in the opening shot that anticipates the alienating, yet attractive austerity of the film’s visuals, and abrasive electronica occasionally piercing the muffled humming in the background...
2. Megalopolis (Francis Ford Coppola, 2024)
“Artists can never lose their control of time.”
Audacious in its childlike naivety, sublime in its hopeless romanticism, and unapologetic in its rapturous ambition, ‘Megalopolis’ is Coppola’s sweet-scented love letter to the history of cinema, one that dares to be optimistic about the future, when hopefulness resembles lunacy. A phantasmagorical smörgåsbord of ideas alternately clashing and harmonizing with each other, it amalgamates, inter alia, the unadulterated spirit of silent cinema, the elegant pomp of the Hollywood’s Golden Age, the outrageous flamboyance of Fellini, and even the camp sensibility of Burton (I could swear I felt some ‘Batman Returns’ vibes!) into a sparkling concoction that tastes like a delightfully chaotic dream. Both deeply personal and explicitly political, old-fashioned yet post-modern, this dazzlingly beautiful experiment reflects on a variety of themes, from art to love to utopianism, in the context of the elusive nature of time, defiantly striving for timelessness.
3. I dolci inganni / Sweet Deceptions (Alberto Lattuada, 1960)
An adolescent girl’s initiation into womanhood takes place over the course of one day marked by conflicted feelings of yearning and hesitation. Her name is Francesca, and she is portrayed boldly and convincingly by then 15-yo Catherine Spaak, absolutely adored by Gábor Pogány’s camera that tastefully captures both her innocence and budding sexuality. Right from the opening single take of subtly sensual beauty, to the fourth wall-breaking gaze in the epilogue, ‘Sweet Deceptions’ seduces you with its strikingly framed B&W images, swinging score, and the carefully chosen locations of Rome and its countryside surroundings. (The balcony shots in the first third are particularly eye-catching!) Playing out like an ode to youthful infatuation, abandon and melancholy, the coming-of-age drama is at once playfully breezy and verily provocative, given that Francesca’s love interest is a 20 years older architect and friend of her family, Enrico (Christian Marquand). Navigating our heroine in the romantic adventure are her classmates, a chatty countess (Milly), a handsome gigolo (Jean Sorel), and her own brother Eddy (Oliviero Prunas), but in the end, she is the one to make the choice between emotional and physical intimacy.
4. Jiu Long cheng zhai - Wei cheng / Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In (Soi Cheang, 2024)
The director of ‘Limbo’ – one of one of the grittiest neo-noirs in recent memory – delivers the most hard-hitting action film of the year! Set in the notorious Kowloon Walled City in the 80s, ‘Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In’ is a brilliant smorgasbord of dazzling martial arts stunts, compassionate crime (melo)drama, and ruthless revenge thriller which essentially brings more bone-cracking wire fu to the table. Brimming with incredible urbex imagery, and cool characters portrayed by a superb cast, it has style to spare, and a story that works well despite its tropey nature.
5. The Shadow Strays (Timo Tjahjanto, 2024)
Hell hath no fury like a woman with a training that must’ve been much stricter than Luc Beson’s Nikita, so that she could dispose of a yakuza clan, crooked cops, a psychopathic, drug-dealing politician’s son, as well as some of her own ‘shadow’ comrades, and dozens of henchmen standing in her way. Her code name is 13 (Aurora Ribero, fighting tooth and nail for her place among the genre heroines!) and everyone who pisses her off is in no luck, because she has the skill to dispose of her opponents in a wide variety of ways, ranging from gun fu to stabby screwdriver combos. And Indonesian filmmaker Timo Tjahjanto (The Night Comes for Us) once again demonstrates a penchant for turning hyper-violence into a pulpy, blood-soaked poetry, with Batara Goempar’s camera dancing rapturously along with the participants of most intense action scenes. The masterly choreographed sword-playing, gun-toting, and ass-kicking extravaganza is the main course, but it is the side dishes, such as 13’s inner drama or her instant, yet poignant connection with a motherless boy, that make the meal so delicious. ‘The Shadow Strays’ may not be as stylish as Soi Cheang’s ‘Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In’, but it is another strong contender for this year’s finest actioner.
6. Lonesome (Craig Boreham, 2022)
Prior to writing the initial chorus line of their 1995 hit single, the members of Garbage must’ve foreseen the (voluptuous) future of queer arthouse cinema in which ‘Lonesome’ undeniably holds a prominent position. Opening with a stunningly picturesque shot of an Australian wind farm, followed by a dusky introduction of a cowboy protagonist, the film doesn’t take long to reveal its horny side (code: truck stop toilet). However, the lone, uninhibited, and highly vulnerable hero, Casey (Josh Lavery in his bold feature debut), isn’t guided solely by lust. During his escape from a western countryside to Sidney, he leaves a long trail of melancholy which urges him to connect with someone on an emotional level. And that someone is a self-proclaimed ‘legit bastard’, Tib (Daniel Gabriel), whose sex adventures come across as a disguise for his desperate longing after a soulmate. It is in their electrified relationship that writer/director Boreham anchors his simple yet effective story that blends dreamy poetry, day-to-day struggle, and homoerotic carnality with disarming directness translated into the film’s graphic nature, involving frequent and unabashed display of full-frontal nudity. Homophobia or rather, its embodiment is kept off-screen, in Casey’s ‘cunt dad’, as he puts it, and what is captured by the keen eye of Dean Francis’ camera is a clear reflection of unconstrained sexual liberty, unhampered by the moments of music video-like stylization.
7. Motel Destino (Karim Aïnouz, 2024)
If saturated colors could kill, ‘Motel Destino’ would be one of the most lethal films. Gorgeously captured on 16mm by Alice Rohrwacher’s regular cinematographer Hélène Louvart, it bursts with fiery reds, sultry blues, juicy yellows, and lascivious purples emphasizing its central theme – desire. Desire to fuck, desire to escape, desire to confront (the oppressive force), and desire to grab life by its balls and never let go are all embodied by Iago Xavier in his uninhibited big screen inauguration. With boyish charm and robust determination, he portrays a young electrician/mechanic, Heraldo, whose plans for the brighter future are thwarted by his own libido in what can be described as a raw, cheeky, sexed-up, neo(n)-noir variation of Visconti’s fascinating debut ‘Obsession’.
Lusted for by a co-owner of the titular place, Dayana (Nataly Rocha, unaffected in her immediacy), as well as by her abusive husband Elias (an imposingly physical performance from Fábio Assunção), Heraldo finds himself in a sweaty passion triangle, all the while hiding from a local loan shark, drug dealer and naïve artist, Bambina. The shamanic-like visions which haunt him add a subtle surrealistic touch to the proceedings that unfold in a relaxed, yet exciting pace, defined by the heat of the Ceará cost, and virtually incessant moaning and groaning heard from the garishly furnished suites. Throbbing with electrified eroticism – heightened by Amin Bouhafa’s sultry score, and Marcos Pedroso’s exquisite production design, ‘Motel Destino’ delivers an exuberant sensory experience, and sometimes, that alone is enough to quench one’s thirst for cinema.
8. Beatrice Cenci / Castle of the Banned Lovers (Riccardo Freda, 1956)
Based on the legends surrounding lurid events at the dusk of the 16th century, ‘Castle of the Banned Lovers’ is a romanticized tale of a Roman noblewoman, Beatrice Cenci (a melancholy-infused portrayal by Mireille Granelli), who was accused of and decapitated for murdering her abusive father, Count Francesco, his evil channeled with overpowering energy by Gino Cervi. In a proto-Tarantinoesque twist, Riccardo Freda opts for historical revisionism, absolving his heroine of all guilt, and shifting blame towards her weakling brother (Anthony Steffen, suitably craven in his role) and haughty stepmother (the great Micheline Presle). His film plays out like an operatic melodrama turned thriller, with the pure, yet forbidden love between Beatrice and a steward, Olimpio (Fausto Tozzi, a fine embodiment of archetypal heroism), occupying a prominent place in the tragic story fraught with incestuous (under)tones. Boasting gorgeous set and costume designs captured in breathtaking widescreen by Gábor Pogány, and accentuated by the sweeping classical score, ‘Castle of the Banned Lovers’ is also noteworthy for its clarity in blocking that amplifies its picturesque qualities, as well as its heightened theatricality.
A vivid combination of pulp, glamour and Technicolor, ‘Slightly Scarlet’ is a fizzy noir that pulls the viewer into a world of organized crime and corrupt politics, chronicling the machinations of a crooked ex-cop, Ben Grace (John Payne, bringing a snakish charm to the role), and his involvement with a couple of red-headed sisters, June and Dorothy (ravishing Rhonda Fleming and Arlene Dahl, respectively). Playful and sassy, the film marks a fascinating swan song for art director Van Nest Polglase (Citizen Kane), seducing you with the passion-infused elegance of its complementary palette.
10. Le coeur du masturbateur / The Masturbator’s Heart (Michael Salerno, 2023)
Films on depression are hard to recommend, even when its ugly face is portrayed in strokes as gentle as that of Michael Salerno’s sophomore feature – a despondent drama unfolding in foreboding silences, interrupted by soft piano murmurs. Framed claustrophobically in a boxy ratio, and playing out like a cold, worrisome dream you’d rather forget, it focuses on an unnamed adolescent whose hate for life compels him to accept a ‘chronicle of leaving the world’ challenge from some dark corner of the web. The void growing inside this young man (Ange Dargent, disturbingly believable) externalizes in his reticent demeanor, languid posture, but mostly in the way he stares into both objects and people, as if seeing only the abyss inviting him into its dark embrace. And that aura of absolute, incurable despair is exquisitely captured by Paul-Anthony Mille’s steady camera, and Salerno’s deliberate direction that outlines the protagonist’s alienation not only from the others, but from his own self as well. 
11. Kalde spor / Cold Tracks (Arne Skouen, 1962)
“The mountains outside
Dressed in white like brides
Heart and head of stone
Heart and head of stone...”
(Star of Ash / Panther in the Glove)
“The mountains outside
Dressed in white like brides
Heart and head of stone
Heart and head of stone...”
(Star of Ash / Panther in the Glove)
The snowiest film I’ve seen this year, ‘Cold Tracks’ is a stark, harrowing psychological drama focused on a trio of characters haunted by the (12) ghosts of their shared past. Coming across as a moody, Bergmanesque portrait of guilt and search for redemption, it uses the harsh, yet stunning setting to externalize the innermost recesses of the protagonists’ troubled minds, primarily the one of a mountain guide and former Resistance leader, Oddmund (a stellar performance from Toralv Maurstad). As its narrative switches back-and-forth between 1944 and the present in a series of smooth cross-cut transitions, we are slowly introduced to the reason(s) that led Oddmund from Australia back to Norway where his ex-girlfriend Ragnhild (Henny Moan) and her husband Tormod (Alf Malland) have kept his secret. The film’s deliberate pace may be a turn off to some, but the inspired B&W cinematography (Ragnar Sørensen) matched to the chilling sounds of howling storms and phantasmal hooting will surely haunt you long after the end.
12. Terrifier 3 (Damien Leone, 2024)
Is it just me, or the cinematography in this series keeps getting more attractive? The analog-like grain and ‘warmth’ – achieved through post-production, and looking amazing on the big screen – imbue ‘Terrifier 3’ with strong retro vibes that are further amplified by Paul Wiley’s foreboding synth-heavy score. Also adding to the peculiar feeling of nostalgia is the cheesy familiarity of drama between the gruesome (and then some!) slashing performed by already iconic figure that is Art the Clown (another superb display of David Howard Thornton’s mime skills!). The vile, sickening, hyper-sadistic nastiness of this seemingly invincible demonic force is the main course here, and it is served with a spicy gravy of demented, pitch-black humor that makes the dryness of side dishes excusable, and the whole meal so succulently unforgettable. 
Carole Bouquet brings sparkling sass and diva-like elegance to the titular role of a high-profile prostitute, Mystère, who gets reluctantly mixed up in some dirty, post-assassination biz, joining forces with a naughty homicide cop, Colt (Phil Coccioletti) in order to stay alive, with her idealized beauty kept intact. In a series of events that couldn’t be any pulpier nor campier, her magnetic heroine demonstrates more resourcefulness and proficiency than the bad guys, wriggling herself free from the tightest of situations, in style. Appearing as a ‘flesh and bones’ counterpart of a Patrick Nagel’s illustration, she is glorified by Giuseppe Maccari’s camera, whereby Marina Straziota’s costumes – the semi-transparent black gown in particular – add nuances to her character. It goes without saying that ‘Dagger Eyes’ (the English title must be referring to Bouquet’s piercing gaze) is a (decidedly?) tongue-in-cheek affair, and shouldn’t be taken seriously at all, particularly towards the end when the film’s playfulness acts like a parody of double-crossing tropes of spy thrillers.
14. Ai futatabi / To Love Again (Kon Ichikawa, 1971)
A pretty French-like piece of Japanese cinema, ‘To Love Again’ sees late autumn / early winter as the most romantic season of the year, imbuing its grayish gloominess with the vibrancy of bittersweet feelings. As it chronicles the numerous meetings and partings of a Japanese girl and an Occidental boy (Ruriko Asaoka and Renaud Verley, both adorable in their weird chemistry), the film crosscuts between the past in Paris and the present in Tokyo with an aspiration to shorten the distance, and tear all of the barriers – cultural, familial, linguistic, and professional. However, there always seem to be some unseen, mysterious boundary that keeps the protagonists from fully expressing their love for each other, yet that very force operates like a propellant of the story, subduing if not fully overcoming its sentimental nature. Shuntarô Tanikawa’s ostensibly breezy writing finds a suitable match in Kon Ichikawa’s humanistic direction, as the natural lighting of Kiyoshi Hasegawa’s matter-of-fact cinematography harmonizes with some catchy pop-ballads on the soundtrack.
15. La casa nel tempo / The House of Clocks (Lucio Fulci, 1989)
A trio of petty thieves get more than what they bargained for after murdering a wealthy elderly couple and their gardener during the robbery of a luxurious villa. Adorned with a wide variety of (magical?) clocks, the place doesn’t abide to the rules of time, and soon becomes the backdrop of a surreal nightmare. Although the bulk of the story is limited to the mansion interior, there’s a lot to savour there – from the thick atmosphere accomplished through the superb use of lighting, to some spicy gore effects the director is well-known for. Tackling the themes of old age and transience, crime and punishment, ‘The House of Clocks’ plays out like a cautionary tale, with zero sympathetic characters, and unfolds in a measured pace which allows the viewer to fully appreciate the details of excellent production design, and the grainy beauty of Nino Celeste’s 16mm imagery.
16. Ukigusa no yado / Inn of the Floating Weeds (Seijun Suzuki, 1957)
Even before he started ‘making movies that make no sense and make no money’, in his own words, Seijun Suzuki demonstrated his flair for powerful visuals. ‘Inn of the Floating Weeds’ is, more or less, a standard yakuza flick, completely devoid of surrealistic touches that would characterize the director’s later offerings, but the stylish camerawork elevate the simple story to a whole new level.
17. Score (Radley Matzger, 1973)
Art meets smut in what is quite possibly the sauciest and cheekiest co-production between the USA and Yugoslavia. Filmed in the coastal town of Bakar (Croatia) that poses as ‘the peaceful City of Leisure’, the adult dramedy revolves around two married couples about to get some action. Sexually liberated, Elvira and Jack (Claire Wilbur and Gerald Grant) like to swing both ways, whereas their friends Betsy and Eddie (Lynn Lowry and Casey Donovan) appear to be staid and straight. The seduction game – central to the fairy tale ‘nestled deep within the Erogenous Zone’ – gradually reveals the latter spouses to be confused and stuck in a passionless matrimony, but all that changes towards a happy ending... that also involves a Big Bad Wolf in the body of a telephone repair man, Mike (Carl Parker).
Titillating the viewer by way of wittily suggestive dialogues, skimpy costumes, and nudity which remains strictly within the softcore domain during most of the running time, Matzger saves the hardcore bits for the climactic conclusion, but treats coitus through the prism of exploration, utmost sensuality, and performance. In other words, he delivers a sort of an elevated, even cerebral porn, demonstrating his penchant for unusual camera angles, playful cross-cutting, and distorted reflections that amplify the psychedelic vibes of the cool soundtrack. The handsome cinematography matched by the tasteful production design positions ‘Score’ closer to the provocative pieces of Eurotrash cinema, rather than the X-rated flicks.
18. Pathos – Segreta inquietudine / Obsession: A Taste of Fear (Piccio Raffanini, 1988)
If you like your gialli with some extra cheese and sleaze, you’ll find a fine specimen in Piccio Raffanini’s only directorial effort which adds some futuristic touches to the subgenre, for the coolness sake. Set in the world of softcore photography and bondage video art, ‘Obsession: A Taste of Fear’ bursts with eroticism, as DoP Romano Albani (Inferno, Phenomena) beautifully captures the abundance of naked or skimpily-clothed bodies under the moody lighting married to soft, sultry jazz and pop tunes, including ‘Private Life’ by Grace Jones. The identity of a murderer isn’t hard to guess, but then again predictability isn’t much of an obstacle here... 
SHORTS
1. A Place Without Fear (Susanne Deeken, 2024)
A young woman faces emotional challenges in an abandoned house that simultaneously works as a physical space – the setting of an abstract story, and a metaphor for her troubled mind. Through the decaying rooms, she embarks on a labyrinthine journey that transmutes hear fear(s) into a surrealistic nightmare. Presented in a technically demanding and aesthetically refined combination of analog (stop-motion) and digital animation, with wall murals coming to bizarre and unsettling life, ‘A Place Without Fear’ mirrors the very intricacies of one’s innermost workings, plunging you into the deepest recesses of the subconscious. Think ‘La casa lobo’ (2018) by way of Švankmajer and Barta, with hints of Bosch in the finale, and you might get the impression of what to expect from this dark fantasy. Virtually a one-woman show, it is written, directed, animated and photographed by artist, designer and filmmaker Susanne Deeken who also collaborates with jazz musicians from Detroit to shroud her haunting visions into an appropriately eerie, phantasmal aural veil. Credited as executive producers are Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross of Nine Inch Nails fame.
‘A film poem by Herman G. Weinberg’, as noted in the title card, ‘Autumn Fire’ could also be described as an impressionistic portrait of longing, one that demonstrates the magic of editing, and the emotive power of visual storytelling. Filmed as a love letter to the author’s then girlfriend (and afterwards wife) Erna Bergman, this romantic mood piece marks the only directorial credit for Weinberg whose lack of experience is rarely, if ever noticeable, with a plethora of beautifully composed shots capturing the loneliness of two characters – a country girl and a city boy. The version I watched is 19 minutes long, and is set to a mellifluous dialogue of piano and accordion.
Johnny Clyde’s Halloween special is an intoxicating concoction of a loving Bettie Boop homage, animated found footage gothic, witty body swap mystery, spooky commercials, surrealistic deconstruction of an educational documentary, and talk show whose host summons the ghost of the legendary Jean Kelly. A milestone of low-budget avant-garde.
In an appearance-obsessed ‘dystopia’, a brain chip allows you and other users to see the perfected version of yourself, but the illusion lasts for only 12 hours. The remaining half of the day you have to spend as your (pathetic) true self. If this description sounds somewhat familiar, that is because ‘Reality+’ carries the seeds from which Coralie Fargeat's body horror ‘The Substance’ sprang. The sci-fi short is less visceral (though the nightmare sequence anticipates backbone stitches), yet almost as biting as its feature successor in flirting with (and subverting) the aesthetics of ads which promote unrealistic beauty standards. Directed smoothly and edited snappily, the film is also notable for high production values and solid performances.
“Poetry, like love and religion, is a glorious conjunction of sense and nonsense.”
