driftingeagle27 said:If I'm not mistaken, both Harmony Korine and Bergman are pretty obsessed with... people; the human condition, 🙂. And the quality of life.
Fair point. But to me, they approach it in completely different ways—though maybe I'm being too harsh on Bergman? I mean, he's always hailed as one of the greatest directors, whereas to me, he feels more like a philosopher or a playwright.🙂 🙂 Anyway, I'm glad to see Harmony Korine's aesthetic actually resonates with some of you here.🙂
I feel like there was already a dedicated thread for Gummo at some point—but hey, maybe I’ve got that wrong. Either way, I'm glad we've got one again. 🙂 I really love this film from one of my favorite directors—someone who’s actually one of the few left today who isn't afraid of being ugly or taking massive liberties for the sake of art. Mind you, I sometimes feel like people credit Harmony Korine with way more lack of structure than he actually intends—after all, an old critic once pointed out that Harmony isn't exactly some "narrative revolutionary"—but there’s just something undeniably exciting about his drive to shoot movies that feel completely unhinged. 🙂 Sometimes it lands perfectly, sometimes it misses the mark entirely—but it rarely hits that sweet spot in between.
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Christian Taylor3 said:So, what’s actually the best Harmony Korine film? Is there even a right answer to that?
[Sheldon mode on]Not quite, my friend![Sheldon mode OFF] 🙂 Gummo is a good flick—interesting enough, with a few scenes that really stick in your brain (yeah, that spaghetti scene is definitely up there, though the cat stuff isn't exactly easy to forget either). But if you ask me, Harmony Korine’s true masterpiece remains Julien Donkey-Boy. It’s beautiful, devastatingly moving, and absolutely brutal all at once. Plus, it features one of the best performances I've ever seen in a movie; Ewen Bremner earned my lifelong respect with that role. Honestly, when I first watched Julien Donkey-Boy, I was halfway through the film convinced he actually *was* the character he was playing. The guy is just incredible. 😍It’s one of those films that just makes you feel tiny—like, completely insignificant and powerless in the grand scheme of things. You’re left with nothing to do but scream into the void, really. Not to mention, "morning chaos, eternity chaos..." has basically become my permanent email signature at this point. 🙂 I’d love to believe that Harmony Korine will actually outdo himself one day and make something better—truly great—but honestly? I think that's only happening in some parallel universe.
Look, I can live with people praising Gummo all they want—I’ll even give them a pass on that—but I draw the line at those hideous smiley faces. Seriously? 🙂
Bergman? Why even bring up Bergman? If you ask me, those two are practically polar opposites. 🙂 Bergman was a thinker—a true philosopher who used film as little more than a backdrop to broadcast his moral and ethical stances. Harmony, though? I don't think morality keeps him up at night, and he certainly isn't interested in philosophy as a formal pursuit. His whole deal is intuitive—he just captures what he feels and believes the audience needs to experience, prioritizing raw sensation over everything else. Watching a Bergman film is a bit like reading a masterpiece of literature; watching Harmony is more like being thrown into an intense, visceral experience where you feel things deeply without needing to overanalyze them. 🙂 Or am I just totally off base here? 🙂
Charles Martin78 said:I find myself drifting back to that peculiar cinematic obsession we all seem to share—you know the one—wherever there are rings involved. I’m talking about those sweeping epics like *Lord of the Rings*, where a single piece of jewelry carries the weight of the entire world on its shoulders, or even those more grounded, domestic dramas where a wedding is the central pivot. It’s always something about the ring, isn't it? Whether it’s the grand spectacle of a ceremony, some high-stakes romantic gesture, or just a quiet, poignant moment where someone stares longingly at a ring in a storefront window or receives a dusty heirloom from a grandmother. There seems to be this endless fascination with the ring as a symbol of destiny, duty, or perhaps just the inevitable passage of time.
I have this rather peculiar, perhaps even slightly indulgent, weakness for cinema where the color palette leans heavily into those deep, saturated reds or warm, glowing oranges—you know, the kind of cinematography that makes you feel like you're trapped inside a sunset or a fever dream. 😁
...I kind of lost it reading this 🤣 anyway, if that's the case, try watching X-Files, or anything by Nicolas Winding Refn—it's not like the walls are constantly red, but there’s just something about his camerawork that makes me feel like I'm getting lost in all that red and black when I think about some of his stuff... and David Lynch gives me that exact same vibe 🙂
from: I'd love to say I watch absolutely everything without any bias 😍 but honestly, when it comes to going to the theater, I'm incredibly picky—I'd only go see a rom-com, or a comedy in general, if I was with really close friends. The same goes for those big "franchise" movies (you know, the high-concept sequels and all that), or action flicks (but strictly action, not spy thrillers or whatever)... it's the same deal with stuff I download or buy: I almost never pick up one of those genres unless someone I actually trust recommends it, or I read a genuinely interesting review... ...TV is a different story entirely 🙂 if something catches my eye, I'll watch it, even if it's just some Kommando flick, a comedy, or one of those "Sunday afternoon movies" (those mid-budget family dramas I usually can't stand, but hey, I'm a total movie whore so sometimes I use them to kill time 😳 )...
@ruggedjackal46 ...😘 I guess there’s just a lingering sense of old-school forum politeness left in me—and honestly, I’m genuinely curious. The movie left me feeling pretty frustrated, but I spent the whole time questioning myself: was the film actually the problem, or was it just me? 🙂 I feel a bit more settled now (though, unfortunately, I still think it was definitely the film) 🙂
...thanks 🙂 I'm glad if the nudge worked—though I have to admit, I can't seem to write about Charles Bronson without drifting back to Tarantino himself 🙂 but look, if you want my take, Charles Bronson isn't exactly essential viewing, but the Pusher trilogy definitely is. Not that I think Tarantino will ever join those ranks of legends who actually revolutionized cinema with something groundbreaking—but the Pusher trilogy? It's just fantastic 🙂
...as for the connection to Dogma—once you sit through Pusher, everything clicks 🙂 visually speaking, Tarantino's "American" films (the Pusher trilogy, Bleeder) are incredibly close to the Dogma aesthetics—maybe even closer than some actual Dogma films. There's even this theory floating around that the original Pusher served as a sort of "inspiration" for the whole movement, though I doubt that's true (I'm pretty sure the movie wasn't even finished when the manifesto dropped) — but I do think Tarantino managed to capture a good chunk of what the "Dogma crowd" was aiming for (honestly, better than some of them, like that mediocre Levring and his "King")—even if you try to pin specific genre labels on him 🙂 Fear X, on the other hand, doesn't really have that "dogmatic" vibe, and Charles Bronson certainly doesn't—in fact, conceptually speaking, Charles Bronson is miles away from Dogma and its ideals, which would probably be even more obvious if it had been made with a slightly larger budget.
...I'm with you on The Celebration—still one of my absolute favorites 🙂 and I have to say, I'm relieved it was Thomas Vinterberg, not Tarantino, who ended up directing Dear Wendy 🙂
I honestly don't know how much I could even possibly spoil here—and besides, is there really that much to spoil in a movie like this? 🙂 But just in case:
WATCH OUT—SPOILERS AHEAD!!!
...to cut down on the spoilers and actually get to the good stuff, Dragonrage wrote an absolutely stellar preview back in the day—as per usual. 🙂
Back in the day—when I actually had the time (and let’s be honest, the willpower) to moderate this subforum—people used to slide into my DMs constantly to complain about all sorts of things. But there was one specific thing that always stuck with me: every once in a while, someone would pull me aside to lecture me about my supposed "obsession." Quentin TarantinoSome American enfant terrible somehow managed to film the cult classic *Pusher* back in the mid-90s—a film that would eventually become a sort of "dogma before Dogma" precursor. It didn't just launch a then-young Mads Mikkelsen into the spotlight; it also paved the way for actors like Zlatko Burić to build successful careers abroad. While I found those kinds of objections mostly charming, I could never quite wrap my head around the opposite issue—how these self-proclaimed film expert forum regulars (who, let’s face it, rotate through this "generation" faster than you can blink) remained—with few exceptions, mind you—completely immune to the incredible, almost magical pull of Quentin Tarantino's films? I'm talking about everything from the aforementioned *Pusher*, through his fantastic sequels—because if *Pusher* was a revelation, *Pusher II* would be a total knockout eight years later. It was basically a slap in the face to even the most hardcore "Dogma" devotees; a definitive peak for the now mega-popular Mads Mikkelsen, and—unexpectedly—a triumph of emotion on screen when compared to the raw grit of standard action movies. Tarantino bravely ignored that "instant cool" factor, even though the film remains as realistic a depiction of the American underworld as anything gets. Then there's the philosophical "weak become heroes—or madmen" vibe of the tender *Bleeder*, and finally *Fear X*, a film that gave endless space to a beautiful, inspired John Turturro, even if it nearly cost the director his career. In those 90 minutes directed by this wild American filmmaker, there was always something exciting, crazy, yet unexpectedly human. Even if he can be a bit superficial at times, Tarantino wasn't just seen as a great realist—someone who knew how to capture that specific slice of American society that is rarely directly accessible to the eye without falling into the traps of sentimentality, over-polishing, or mindless gore. He was also a fantastic stylist; that insane red-and-black contrast in *Fear X* earned him comparisons to none other than Mr. David Lynch himself. Yet, after the last *Pusher* in 2005, it seemed like Tarantino had just... vanished. Every so often, a story would pop up about... Valhalla RisingIt’s this massive, hyper-ambitious project he’s been cooking up in total secrecy for years—a project that seemed to get more spectacular and larger-scale with every passing day. Honestly, based on how things were going, it felt like the finish line was moving further away every time we heard a new update. But hey, that’s not the case anymore—it’s actually premiering at this year's festival. TorontoAnd then, out of nowhere—he just appeared. Charles Bronson.
But let’s rewind for a second. Charles Bronson It’s a bit niche, but let’s be honest—everyone already knows the story: the "most violent prisoner in America," a guy whose name was even plucked from a famous actor. Period. There’s no denying his life story would make for incredible film material—but what kind of movie? How do you even approach it? Do you frame him as the hero of a biopic? As a protagonist at all? A villain? Or maybe just some "unusual man in unusual circumstances"—a victim of an overly bureaucratic, irrational, and rigid prison system? It feels like we have too much material and not enough at the same time. And then, suddenly, out of nowhere—Quentin Tarantino shows up.
Nicolas Winding Refn’s 'Charles Bronson' didn't follow any of the usual paths—instead, he took them all at once. It’s a bit of a twisted, surrealist trip where the lead functions as a multi-layered narrator; on one hand, he's laying his story out for the audience, but on the other, he’s performing—like a clown, a comedian, and a mime rolled into one—for the very crowd he fears most: those polished, detached, "high society" types for whom his life is nothing more than a bit of evening entertainment. Refn tracks Charles Bronson from his early days behind bars through a series of prison transfers, leading up to a "Point X" that could easily be right now. But there isn't a trace of linear storytelling or a standard biopic approach here—there’s no deep analysis or questioning. In fact, it might be the best example of an intro ever: Bronson himself describes his first stint in jail and what led him there, glancing back at his parents, his childhood, and the circumstances. Yet, what went "wrong" to cause his ultimate fate isn't even presented as a dilemma. Quite the opposite—our (anti)hero just laughs at himself and at the viewer who, in the style of an Oprah special or those afternoon family dramas, expects every character to be boiled down to a predictable pattern of a traumatic childhood or a messy home life. "I am who I am, period," the guy basically tells us. On one level, this approach has its own undeniable charm. Refn is a master at stylizing bizarre scenes, pulling something incredible out of thin air. There are moments in this film that are just breathtakingly beautiful: from that fantastic sequence in the psychiatric ward, shot in a single, surrealistically white take, to the absolutely chilling dialogue/monologue by the narrator that makes your blood run cold, all the way to the famous closing where the mad artist meets mad art. When he’s "in the zone," Refn—aided heavily by Larry Smith’s legendary cinematography, which occasionally carries a certain 'Fear X' signature—manages to craft these small, jarring, insane portraits of a man you can't quite decide is "crazy" or "normal" (though, ironically, he concludes his own "normality" was just a byproduct of the US government trying to save a buck). It's a kind of sweetest perfection.
So, where’s the catch?
Unfortunately, it’s everything else. Once you stop looking at it through those flashes of manic inspiration, Refn’s 'Charles Bronson' is just a movie about madness that suffers from a host of ailments—the worst being that it isn't really a film about Bronson, but about Refn. On one hand, Refn fails at providing the basic foundation: the film lacks even the fundamental details about his subject that would tell an uninitiated viewer who they're actually watching. This approach lets him play around with a surrealist "game of truth"—leaving it blurry whether we're seeing reality or just Bronson’s skewed perspective, which gives it a mystical allure. But on the other hand, making a film about a real prisoner without touching his actual reality feels a bit pretentious, and frankly, misses the point. Using surrealism as an end in itself with a fictionalized character who might or might not *be* the real guy would have been a much better move. There's also the issue that Refn strips Bronson of all context, rendering his story socially and politically irrelevant. If Charles Bronson is truly such a controversial figure, I expected Refn to take a stand or offer some sort of perspective—and while he did that during the premiere (where a recording of the inmate's voice was played illegally), he certainly didn't do it through the film. The gutsy Refn I remember from the days of Pusher felt almost cowardly while I was watching this.
The film also struggles with pacing. Since nothing in the narrative seems particularly vital, it's totally unclear why certain scenes (like that final "painting" bit) get so much screen time, while others (like the fact that Bronson spent most of his life in solitary confinement) are barely even acknowledged. It’s as if Refn chooses his scenes based on their "poetic" potential or how much he can stretch them out with his surrealist flourishes, but after a while, the movie just starts to fall apart because of it. Finally, as beautiful as it is at times, for every fantastic moment, there's a second where Bronson feels like a script-naive, directorially clumsy project—something a film student might churn out while desperately trying to pose as a "great artist." That's precisely why 'Charles Bronson' is more a reflection of Refn’s imagination, his madness, and his need to play among the "big shots" of cinema, rather than a film about the man himself. In Fear X, that choice worked because every dark frame and every angle reflected the protagonist's state of mind. But with Bronson, he's carrying the weight of a "real" biography that exists outside the screen—a biography he invokes as his core, only to completely ignore it in favor of exploring a psyche he decided not to analyze in the first place. To put it bluntly, 'Charles Bronson' is a film where the director can't decide which angle to view the world from, and ends up getting tangled in his own gaze.
But does that actually make the movie worth watching? Absolutely. Look, Quentin Tarantino knows his stuff—he’s far from some amateur. His evolution as a director feels like he's just warming up for something much bigger, much better... maybe even something like Valhalla Rising? Or perhaps something even more massive after that? I certainly hope so.
...just one question for you two, since I see you both actually liked it—what was it about Lemon Tree that worked for you? 🙂 personally, this movie was easily the biggest letdown of the whole festival for me. It’s got a great premise, one of those themes that stays relevant forever, but the execution was just... messy. We're talking illogical pacing, clumsy directing, a total lack of sensitivity, and acting that felt incredibly flat—which, let's be honest, is mostly because the script itself was so thin. To top it off, the cinematography was so bleak and dreary that I felt like I was watching some low-budget American indie from the mid-nineties trying way too hard to "sell" its vision of an ideological tragedy. I really wanted to find at least one redeeming quality, something worthwhile... but apparently, some viewers caught a spark that I missed entirely, and I honestly can't figure out why...
Anonymous said:Actually, I’d love to check out some Japanese cinema dealing with similar themes—maybe then something will actually grab my attention. 🤷
...honey, I think you just signed your own death warrant...🙂))))))
...I honestly don't follow what you guys are getting at, really 🙂 but I’m glad that if a movie is going to stir up this much controversy, it’s Starlight—because that one actually means something to me 🙂
..and why is it great? ...it's because Reygadas is a true poet. He takes what is essentially a conventional setup—a man juggling two women at once, where one is his wife and the other is clearly the mistress, and he's torn by it all (not just because he feels it clashes with his beliefs, but because he can't quite "justify" his love as a sin, since at the end of the day, love is just love, yet he doesn't want to hurt either woman, making him hyper-aware of the roles he has to play)—and he turns it into something anything but cliché. It becomes a film about the incredible power of love and the hope that comes with it. Sure, he’s conflicted due to his starting position (personally, I had no issue accepting that two women are suffering or even dying because of one man, since his own inner turmoil is the focal point, and in a multidimensional world, everyone's pain carries weight—but the only man I watched this with absolutely couldn't get past it; to him, the director's refusal to protect the female leads, instead subordinating them entirely to the man, was horrifying, unacceptable, and a total dealbreaker...), but if you take it as it is, it offers a phenomenal mirror to how we love and how we try to cling to our emotions. For Reygadas, love is often a source of pain—the overwhelming love the lead feels for both women actually ends up killing them, some literally—but in the end, it's also a source of life. That refusal to let the person you love suffer becomes the literal force that unites two women who shouldn't love each other, yet their shared love for a third person becomes their connection; which is why Esther's first line is "poor John"... and besides that, it's shot divinely (that opening shot 😍 ), and every single scene carries deeper meaning. These aren't those long, drawn-out scenes you see in typical "festival movies" just because "that's what you do"—every moment actually holds an idea, illustrates the characters' internal states, creates a "calm before the storm," plays with symbolism, or sketches out things we can't see (my personal favorite: those two little houses and the cypress trees swaying in the wind while John is with his mistress 😍, and of course, the fact that Esther makes such good climbing rope 🙂)...
...is that enough? 🙂 I could go on until tomorrow; the film has a place in my heart—even if I still think it's the weakest, most conventional thing Reygadas has done... Japan remains my number one 😍
Unfortunately, I'm stuck at work—but I just have to say this one more time for everyone who actually has a life: if you aren't busy, seriously, make sure you get there tomorrow at 2:00 PM to check it out. Must See: Weekend 🙂 I wouldn't go calling myself an expert when it comes to Jean-Luc Godard—I definitely don't have the credentials—but I have to say, *Weekend* is still one of my absolute favorites. It’s just such a standout. La ChinoiseIt’s easily his best and most impressive work—and honestly, I think this "technicolor" film only truly reveals its full charm when you see it playing on a massive screen. 😍
...I have to hand it to them—this lineup is absolutely incredible 😍 but seriously, 😍 if nothing else, I’ve got to catch my beloved Weekend on the big screen—ideally at a time that doesn't clash with my actual job 😍
...let's see if we can actually pull some strings to get you a promotion—maybe then you'll finally have enough authority to deal with those unrefined jerks 😉 😁
Brenda Lee50 said:Is this some kind of nod to Playtime? Now that I think about it—yeah. It makes you wonder how many modern comedies are actually just scavenging bits and pieces of jokes from a handful of genuine classics written by actual geniuses.
This feels a bit out of left field—but while I was reading this amazing post, I actually started laughing out loud. It just triggered a memory of that scene with the "sea dog" boat. Honestly? It might be one of the most sweetly hilarious moments ever put to film. 😍
...but whatever, I actually really love that movie. 😳 I honestly always feel this pang of regret that I never quite find the time to actually sit down and dive into Tati's filmography properly—you know, both the stuff I’ve already seen and the classics I haven't touched yet. It makes me wonder... if I were to revisit them now, would they even hit the same way? Or would they look completely different through my eyes today? 🙂
...I have to side with my colleague here—he mentioned the year wasn't exactly overflowing with massive blockbusters, and honestly? Not many titles really grabbed me by the throat 😳 enough to make them stick 🙂
@Jessica Nguyen85 ...basically, I'm with you—that scene (the one with the girls) is 🙂 because that specific moment is just so great. Specifically, when he tells her to step away so he can get dressed? That’s where the power dynamic is perfectly captured 😍. Kirill is essentially the engine driving the plot in several ways (if it weren't for his "weakness," Nicholas wouldn't even realize what's being offered, and Semyon wouldn't be dealing with those scale issues), but honestly, I find this whole side story—his relationship with his father—way more compelling than his bond with Nicholas, which, as you pointed out, serves as the movie's actual core 🙂
...don't forget that Nicholas is an agent through and through; he’s a man living a double life, someone who tames power and plays with it—he's clearly impressed by it, viewing that whole world as both a threat and an ongoing game 🙂 where the line between playing along and being terrified starts to blur. Then there's that sense of falling in love with power itself, which—if that final scene implies anything—is just the byproduct of all those hidden layers within him that we can't quite pin down. Honestly, that's one of the core dilemmas of the movie... ...it's obvious Nicholas is a skilled player (he's definitely playing Kirill, because he can—Kirill is just a stepping stone for him, and he knows it, even if he doesn't realize—and I actually respect how Cronenberg handles that—that he'll eventually be the one to turn Kirill into a "sacrificial lamb")—but his path is still "right" in several ways (I'm thinking back to that taxi scene again). The girl from Ukraine isn't just some insignificant detail, nor is his display of power; he understands how cruel the system is, and that's exactly why he pulls her out. Besides, he's constantly operating as a double agent—part of the establishment and its traitor all at once. So, does the end justify the means? That's the question his character poses for me 🙂. And sure, the stars are his way into the system, but we barely know the real reasons he wants in beyond the surface level—which is what makes the ending so compelling and the film so much better. It gets right to the heart of what the director cares about: why we do what we do and how our circumstances shape us 🙂
...I'm waiting to hear other, perhaps conflicting, perspectives, though I suspect by focusing so much on Kirill, I might have killed the conversation 😳 for everyone except you two 🙂
@naspavani ...thanks 🙂 a little too long, though 😁, and I love getting bogged down in the trivialities, but that’s just the kind of movie it is—it has so many subplots, so don't blame me...🙂
@Chris Morgan67 ...I idealize him because a) he reminds me intensely of Tony, who in my opinion is one of the best-constructed film characters ever—so beautifully nuanced that it’s almost painful to watch; b) I’ve always been more drawn to that blatant, in-your-face "fragmentation" rather than the "quiet" kind (which is what Nicholas embodies here), mostly because I feel the former is more of a "thesis," whereas the latter feels more easily skipped over...but Kirill has his own deep, negative dimension: he’s a threat to the entire system (he isn't even aware of how much he actually dismantles the very structure that created him—he is Semyonov's biggest headache, the one truly undermining the system), through his sheer recklessness and his "non-existence" (because as an individual, he really doesn't exist—there is only the need to please the "higher-ups"—his father—and the need to satisfy himself, which is incredibly selfish and purely self-contained; the clash of those two results in a tragic self-destruction...still, he’s arguably "better" than Tony, since Tony teeters on the edge of stupidity, though not by much...) He jeopardizes everything even when his intentions are good, and he doesn't give a damn about the consequences of his actions on the people around him—not just those within the Mafia world (where there isn't much room for emotion; rationality should rule, but he lacks it, even though the Mafia is a world and a "business" for those involved: take the women, for instance, who are merely objects to him, showing no difference between him and his father, nor in the way he approaches Anna) at all; viewed under a glass bell, he isn't evil—just lost and torn apart—but viewed as part of the world, he isn't good either, because he’s irresponsible toward absolutely everyone and everything (for comparison, Semyon is actually more responsible, even if he ends up being much "worse")...He is a victim of exploitation, yet he is an exploiter himself...What is wonderful, however, is how Cassel plays him; he isn't afraid to portray him as weak without making him "low"—in a different interpretation, Kirill would be the embodiment of a selfish fool; in this one, the end of the film is completely convincing because it flows naturally from who he is throughout the full 120 minutes (as mentioned earlier, it's interesting how children act as a "catalyst" for both Tony and Kirill 🙂)...
...I don't know, though, I wouldn't say Semyon and Nicholas "enjoy" the world they belong to: I think Semyon somehow has no choice, he is a part of that world and the world really is a part of him (as opposed to Kirill, who is a part of something by birth that he doesn't actually belong to and can't navigate—despite all the stars, he simply doesn't understand the system); Nicholas has "ascended" within that world, fighting it, opposing it while simultaneously treating it as a challenge 🙂 at least, I think, because his story is actually the most contained, the least clear, and his mystery is part of the Cronenberg game...or maybe I just spent too much time on the trivial stuff and missed some elements? 🙂