Aside from Luis Buñuel, he’s probably the most significant and accomplished director ever to come out of Spain—well, if we're looking at his legacy. He was born on September 25, 1949, in a tiny little town called Calatrava. For the longest time, though—up until the dawn of the 80s—he struggled to really make a mark in the industry, mostly because he was constantly battling a lack of funding. It wasn't until the 1980s that he finally broke through with his first major hit. Pepi, Luci, Bom, and Other Girls from the Street It’s worth looking back at how Carmen Maura became such a powerhouse—she landed one of those defining lead roles that essentially turned her into one of Pedro Almodóvar's ultimate muses. During the 80s, she starred in six full-length features with him, most of which stand out as these incredibly sharp, essential dramedies that really defined that era of filmmaking. What did I ever do to deserve this? Honestly. (1984) i Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown Looking back at 1988—specifically those films where Carmen Maura takes center stage—it’s interesting to revisit that specific blend of thriller and drama. There was a certain weight to those stories, a tension that felt much more grounded than the typical Hollywood fare you see today. It’s a niche, but a compelling one if you're into character-driven narratives that don't hold your hand. matador Featuring Antonio Banderas in one of his lead roles, the film showcases how Almodóvar really found his stride during the 80s and early 90s—leaning heavily into that signature blend of dark humor and raw, unfiltered drama. By the late 90s and moving into the new millennium, he had fully transitioned into a master of those intense, gut-wrenching dramas like All About My Mother and Talk to Her. All About My Mother i Talk to Her Even if his most recent work... Volver He's proven he hasn't lost his sense of humor just yet... Pedro Almodóvar’s films tend to gravitate toward female-driven narratives—think mothers, sex workers, and occasionally a transvestite character thrown into the mix. There's this specific grit to his work; certain scenes hit you with such raw, abrasive emotions that they practically slap you in the face. I suppose that’s exactly why he isn't for everyone—his style can be polarizing, to say the least—but even if you find him difficult, he’s one of those directors who is damn near impossible to remain indifferent toward.
I’m thinking about starting a new thread here, assuming the moderators don't have an issue with it. If you’re expecting just another mindless list where people spam terms followed by a string of emojis—sometimes longer than the actual word itself—you’re going to be sorely disappointed. This is meant to be a sort of mini film encyclopedia. My idea is to create a space where we list film-related terms in alphabetical order and provide the best possible review or breakdown of that term at the moment. It would be great if everyone could dig up some trivia if they happen to have it lying around. When I say "film term," I mean anything from the world of cinema—movies, characters, actors, directors, screenwriters, you name it. The goal is to present these entries as clearly as possible; that doesn't mean you need to write half-meter-long essays—though you're welcome to if you feel the urge—it just means you should actually know what you're talking about... Of course, the thread will have its own set of rules, one of which is already in the title. Please refrain from excessive commentary, as it tends to derail the purpose of the thread and sends things off in the wrong direction. Terms should be listed alphabetically. Ideally, please use the original movie titles. If you aren't sure of the exact title, you can always look up a few key details on IMDb (I assume almost everyone here knows how to use it, but if there are any newcomers or "internet tourists" lurking around, you can use this site where, under search, you can find pretty much anything you need regarding movies, actors, and so on). If you are listing an actor, a character, or any other person, please use the first letter of their last name rather than their first name. If you are citing a film with articles like The, The, the, etc., then that film falls under the first significant word in the title (for example, The Usual Suspects or The 400 Blows). If a title starts with a number, use the first letter of that number (for instance, 400 (Four) Blows, or Truffaut's 20 entries would come before that). We’ll be using the English alphabet, so if you want to include an American film that might start with a specific character, just categorize it under the closest English equivalent—say, S goes under S. That should be everything.
I really think this thread could be quite useful.
I’d like to give this a shot if the mods allow it; if it doesn't work out, it’s easy enough to shut down. Thanks.
I’ve already prepared the first post to serve as an example.
edit: I forgot to mention that once we hit Z, we just loop back to the beginning of the alphabet, provided we don't repeat any terms we've already covered.
Jumper is an adaptation based on the novella by Steven Gould. The whole thing centers on a young guy named Davey who discovers he has this incredible gift—specifically, the ability to teleport himself anywhere he wants.
Doug Liman is at the helm here, the same director behind Mr. & Mrs. Smith and The Bourne Identity. Hayden Christensen takes on the role of Davey, and we've also got Samuel L. Jackson and Jamie Bell in some pretty significant parts.
From what I can gather looking at the trailer, it seems like a solid, well-executed adventure action sci-fi flick. On a production level, it looks high-quality, though it definitely feels like CGI is doing a lot of the heavy lifting. At first glance, it actually reminds me of something Michael Bay might have cooked up. Of course, a trailer is one thing, but the full-length movie is a completely different beast. We'll just have to wait and see how it all pans out...
As for any similarities between Gould's novella and the work of Jelaćić Buzimskog, I can't really say anything for certain since I haven't read either one. I don't even know the release dates for them, so if anyone happens to know, feel free to fill us in...
Look, we all know lists like this are nothing more than a collection of subjective opinions anyway. I honestly don't get why people stress over stuff like this—it’s just noise. Personally, I just scroll right past it.
The other day I found myself scrolling through pretty much this entire subforum—starting from the very last page—and I’m honestly baffled that I didn't stumble upon this incredibly interesting thread sooner. When I look back at my "old" phase of film obsession, I can see myself reflected in maybe four or five different points here, but nowadays? I barely recognize myself in two. A few solid points were brought up in the opening of this topic, but there's still a massive amount of nuance missing when we start talking about snobbery within the context of cinema. Some people would probably claim my way of expressing myself is snobbish, but frankly, I don't care. I'm certain I'm not imposing my views on anyone (not right now) or causing any harm—whereas most of the points made in the original post actually *do* cause harm to others, specifically to true film enthusiasts. Some might argue that pretentiousness is just another facet of being a snob—an accusation leveled against me by one of the less frequent visitors to this forum who claimed Federico Fellini was one of his favorite directors. So, it stands to reason that sometimes, discussing snobbery and the act of snobbery itself...
redwalker6 said:I’m honestly getting sick of this Saw franchise. The first movie was decent enough, I guess, but nothing spectacular. As for the sequels? They're just unnecessary filler.☕
Exactly that. Everything boiled down to about ten words...
I still remember sitting there watching the original. It was actually a pretty decent horror-thriller—it had that cold, jarring twist at the end that really caught everyone off guard, which is exactly what turned so many people into lifelong fans of Saw. Personally, I thought that > was fine, and I was happy enough to leave it at that. A while later, I sat down with some friends to skim through the second installment, and it didn't take long to realize the pattern: just like its predecessor, the rest of the franchise was clearly headed downhill. It felt like a massive waste of time, so I didn't even bother touching the third one—I already knew exactly what kind of ride I was signing up for, let alone the fourth. Maybe one day, once I’ve worked my way through my entire watchlist and find myself staring at a dead-end Monday night with absolutely nothing to do, Saw III or IV might end up on the table. If they do, they'll be my only options—nothing else even comes close. Once a movie hits that level of success, you just know exactly where the studio is going to take it...
Maybe it’s been a while, but I still find myself thinking about those snuff clips in Videodrome. There’s that scene with the naked girl whipping two guys in what looks like some kind of makeshift, post-apocalyptic fallout shelter—those walls look damp, almost clay-like, and there's this weird sense of static electricity pulsing through them. It’s just one of those moments where David Cronenberg weaves his specific brand of madness into the film—honestly, he does it better here than almost anywhere else.
If you ask me, "expertise" when it comes to the art of cinema is an incredibly relative concept. Sure, there are people who claim the title of expert—as if it’s some kind of holy designation—but most of the time, it really just boils down to how much trivia they’ve memorized and how slickly they package that information to present themselves to the public.
Directors generally make movies for a few specific reasons:
1) themselves 2) the audience 3) profit—you know, cold hard cash 4) a messy cocktail of those three factors combined
Looking at that list, we fall squarely into the second category. By leaning into that "audience" status, we rely on our own raw senses—basically, whether we actually enjoy the movie or not. For us, what matters is experiencing the film on our own terms; if we don't feel it, we aren't satisfied. And honestly, no matter what some self-proclaimed "expert" says, it’s nearly impossible to talk someone out of their own visceral reaction. To my mind, technical expertise in this medium is secondary—and in many cases, completely unnecessary. There’s a high probability that only a tiny fraction of filmgoers care about the technical or material value of a production, while the vast majority connects with the non-material, emotional core of the work. Ideally, one should aim for a middle ground, though finding that balance can be a bit of a struggle...
You really have to "consume" a massive amount of cinema before you can actually start judging what makes a movie tick. Only then—and it might take a lifetime—can you truly begin to speak about these films as distinct works of art. I don't know if anyone else here feels this way, but personally, I feel like I haven't quite reached that level of expertise yet...
Unfortunately—though maybe not—I don't quite see eye to eye with you. Actually, I was right there with you until you hit that point where you insisted Eyes Wide Shut is just a boring, pretentious slog. What feels tedious to one person might be riveting to someone else, and vice versa—which is really the heart of what we're discussing here. It's about how much objectivity any single viewer can claim, and how much objectivity exists within the collective audience. Your take is that the film is boring and pretentious, which is a sentiment shared by others (myself included, in this instance). I'm not suggesting you need to listen to me and suddenly "realize" the movie isn't what you think it is—that's obviously not going to happen. Anything else you could say about the film would essentially just be a critique of Stanley Kubrick, and I don't think we want to go down that rabbit hole here. A film is either good or it isn't; there shouldn't be some universal standard that every viewer is forced to follow. That’s my stance. To one person it's a masterpiece, to another it's good, to someone else it's okay, then there's bad, terrible... or just boring. Those "labels" are matters of taste, whereas "pretentiousness" is a concept deep enough to warrant its own dissertation...
@Brenda Lee50/">@@Brenda Lee50, nice little jab there—I have to give you credit. I actually felt differently before reading your post, but honestly, there are some films where your entire perspective shifts completely after seeing them again years later.
@Shamaness, I appreciate your take; it's independent and doesn't feel forced at all. Over time, I've noticed how women tend to master the art of being less intrusive before we men even realize it (and I don't mean flirting or sucking up). It took me quite a while to develop a viewpoint similar to yours. It's a shame that "similar" is still just an approximation.
p.s. My opinion hasn't changed: subjectivity remains primary in our criticism, while objectivity is secondary. There are always exceptions, but usually, those exceptions involve subjectivity being absolute rather than just primary, let alone secondary. Unfortunately—or perhaps not...
I suspect there are a handful of people out there capable of separating their personal feelings from the universal qualities of a work, but it’s a safe bet there will always be those stray personalities who either add to or detract from a text—or a spoken thought—based solely on their own baggage. Just remember, you probably formed most of your opinions (not necessarily your entire worldview, mind you) immediately after watching a movie. When you finish a film, you quickly decide whether it worked for you or not, and only then do you start digging deeper. That’s how I operate, at least, and I suspect it's how most people do it. The thing is, once you watch something and tell yourself "I actually really liked this movie", it’s going to have that certain visceral pull, regardless of how many times you later change your mind about its technical merits. That’s the personal, subjective core of a work, not some tired cliché regarding first impressions. You might eventually realize a film is technically quite flawed, but deep down, you'll subconsciously recall that initial good experience—and that’s almost certainly why you had that immediate reaction right after the credits rolled. I’ve had the opposite experience, too. Take Michelangelo Antonioni’s Profession: reporter as an example; for me, it was an incredibly taxing and frankly tedious watch. Antonioni could lean into the infinite beauty of his visual frames and soundscapes all he wanted, but he just couldn't hit that specific sweet spot for me. I formed my opinion immediately based on what I just described, only to realize a few days later that the film is actually technically superb. Even so, that realization didn't fundamentally shift my stance on it. So, I continue to rely on my gut while striving to be as objective as possible. A film demands a full analysis, not just an emotional one.
When it comes to prejudice, I’ve been guilty of ignoring plenty of great cinematic discoveries myself, which is something I regret. I still find myself following that instinct, which rarely leads me astray. But rarity is a risk when we're talking about common ground. My biases weren't directed at genres, though; they were aimed squarely at certain directors.
p.s. Sorry for the wall of text. I tend to get carried away...
I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lurking in the film subforum lately, and I can't shake the feeling that most discussions have drifted toward pure subjectivity rather than any semblance of objectivity. It makes me wonder—how much objectivity can a person actually claim when dealing with film (or really any art form), and how much weight should we truly give to someone else's take? I’ve noticed that most people—and I mean generally, not just here—tend to form opinions that are maybe two-thirds subjective and one-third objective, yet they present them as if they were entirely their own unique insight. I’ll admit, I used to fall into that trap myself, but over time I’ve tried to learn how to be more objective and apply that more consistently—not that I’m trying to lecture anyone here, though I suppose there might be a lesson in it. We all know being 100% anything is impossible, whether we're talking about subjectivity or objectivity. For instance, when a movie really hits us in the gut, we love to slap labels like "perfect," "genius," or "the greatest" onto it, even when we know deep down that isn't true. We know a work can approach perfection, but it can never fully embody the word. Being objective is a massive struggle because film is essentially two-sided. You have the technical side—the tangible stuff you can actually measure—and then there’s the complete opposite, which is purely intangible. That second part is almost impossible to critique objectively, and that's where the "friction" happens when we try to exchange or present our views. Take, for example, how many cinephiles, critics, or reviewers will stubbornly insist that Stanley Kubrick is the greatest director of all time. They turn that opinion into a universal constant, effectively creating this invisible yardstick for directorial quality. Doesn't it feel like using a word like "best" as a fixed standard is a bit of a stretch? Do you think it's even possible to answer questions like "who is the best" given the sheer, chaotic diversity of cinema? Is it even doable?
I realize I might have gone off on a bit of a tangent there—it just sort of took hold of me, and I find it hard to fight back against those kinds of thoughts. So, go easy on me.
After all that rambling, you're probably wondering what the point of all this is. The title is the "hook."
Robert Cooper41 said:Honestly, if you want to actually grasp everything happening in "Dolls," you’re going to need to sit through it at least three times just to catch all those subtle details... at least, that’s how long it took me to wrap my head around it. 😬
I’ve never actually watched Dolls more than once—even though I’ve always felt this nagging urge to. That first time I sat through Dolls... I honestly felt like a single lifetime wouldn't be enough to wrap my head around every little detail and truly grasp what was happening, even if I know deep down that isn't actually the case...
Possible SPOILER* regarding the section where Dolls is mentioned
So, I was just over on another thread talking about Tarantino, which reminded me of Kitana—who, honestly, is one of my absolute favorite directors. His films are just soaked in this incredible visual language, storytelling, and atmosphere; he’s really the master at handling themes like violence and romance, two things that seem totally irreconcilable at first glance, yet he manages to weave them together perfectly in almost everything he touches. For those of us who have seen his work and actually enjoy it (and even for the critics who follow him but can't stand him), it’s pretty obvious that those long, lingering shots and the minimal dialogue are his most striking trademarks. In that regard, his films Ana natsu, ichiban shizukana umi and Dolls really stand out. To me, the former is probably his best work because it captures that irony between the imagery and the sound of the ocean without being pretentious or overly philosophical—it just slowly pulls you into a sort of Kitano-mode that practically pins you to your seat. On the flip side, Dolls is primarily an art-visual piece where Kitana explores the morbidity of emotion in the most haunting way possible. Through a collection of beautiful, heavy symbolism, he presents three unfinished love stories in the most brutal, grim manner imaginable. By the end, it hits you like a slow, massive freight train—it shakes you up and leaves you feeling somewhat emotionally revolted... He’s a brilliant director with incredible films. There’s certainly plenty to unpack there...
Anthony Kim18 said:It’s more than just a great movie. The ending alone makes it better than Scarface. But honestly? It falls short of Traffic—that one feels much more comprehensive as a piece of filmmaking.
And that comparison... really? You actually picked two films that belong in the same conversation...
@xavierkat, don't sweat it. I just noticed the thread was tucked away under "warnings," yet here we are—not a single word posted. Meanwhile, some guy is probably sitting there wondering why nobody is chiming in about this beautiful, perhaps even the best, film by Antonioni...
The Apartment is the work of Gilles Mimoun—specifically, a director whose debut happens to be his only true cinematic offering, unless you count his influence on the screenplay for the Wicker Park remake. When you look at a filmmaker who can pull off a debut this polished, you can't help but feel a bit cynical about the fact that he didn't follow it up with even one more feature. The Apartment is a thriller-romance-drama that succeeds almost entirely through its sheer visual weight and atmosphere. Between the curated soundtrack and the cinematography, it’s nearly impossible—at least for me—to remain indifferent while watching. Plus, using a city like Paris as the backdrop—always so nostalgic, dramatic, and moody—essentially makes the setting a third character in the film. It's a beautiful piece of cinema that I'd recommend to just about anyone who hasn't seen it yet...
I watched Dogma exactly once, and looking back at the big picture, all I can say is it’s a terrible movie—and honestly, Kevin Smith is one of those guys I’d describe as "prejudiced garbage." Dogma is your typical American "I'm not a teenager but I totally am" comedy, designed for group mocking and mindless giggling... by using spoofs of Catholic religion to try and play at being Bergman's The Seventh Seal, Kevin Smith fails completely with this project, and quite possibly with his others too. Trying to scoff at Hollywood Blockbusters and bad acting while using Ben Affleck as his go-to inspiration for a "good actor" wasn't exactly a brilliant move either. Kevin Smith is, if you ask me, the male version of Roseanne...
wearysailor21 said:Dodge Charger inspired by Steve McQueen
Man, that thing is gorgeous. Most people probably have memories of the DeLorean from Back to the Future—I know I certainly do—but I still have a soft spot for the Ford Mustang from Demolition Man...
