1. The Academy is notorious for its complete lack of self-awareness when it comes to humor; they can't take a joke, which means Birdman doesn't stand a chance. 2. While Birdman is undeniably a high-quality production—engagingly shot and intriguing in its biting commentary—it feels somewhat narrow in scope. It plays out almost like an inside joke shared exclusively between the actors, the theater community, filmmakers, and critics. As far as direction goes, it’s solid, but it isn't exactly groundbreaking. 3. Boyhood, on the other hand, is a project of immeasurable significance. The result is a cohesive, well-executed meditation on growing up and the relentless passage of time. It required immense courage and intellectual foresight to select specific cultural touchstones from various eras—things like Britney Spears, Harry Potter, or even the Obama campaign—and weave them into a narrative, betting that they would still resonate with audiences years later. To marry those elements with a largely autobiographical core story is no small feat. I went in hoping the film would completely transport me and stand as the finest cinematic experience of my life. It didn't quite reach that peak, but it remains an excellent film, and likely the best one released this year.
Boyhood is far more significant as a feat of production than as a mere cinematic product, though even on its own merits, the film isn't half bad. People seem to overlook the sheer reality of the situation: it was filmed over the course of twelve years, with a script that had to be continuously refined to account for what might become interesting down the line. It’s an incredible eye for detail. This is precisely why Boyhood earns its accolades for both filmmaking and directing—it could easily be both. And honestly, who else could have actually pulled this off?
electricbison21 said:I'm going to bed; I have to be up at 3 AM. 😲 To hell with the Golden Globes if they already know everything ahead of time. 😬
edit : Ujebote, Americans gave Leviathan the award for Best Foreign Language Film!! 😁 What a pleasant little surprise in this moment!! I was quite certain that Ida would take it, given the tense relations between the US and the Russians... truly surprising and quite refreshing. 👍
A few corrections: First, the Golden Globes are awarded by foreign journalists based in Hollywood, so it isn't actually "Americans" making the call. Second, Leviathan is a perfectly logical choice considering the current political climate. It’s a dissident film, critical of the Russian state, its dictator, and even the Russian psyche. Ida has been in the spotlight for far too long, while Tangerines remains an unknown to me, as does Gett. Tourist had a decent shot, but Leviathan is the rightful destination here. (By the way, I find the Golden Globes nominations more appealing than the Academy's nine-film shortlist; the Academy seems to have lost its mind, or perhaps they just feel obligated to fill quotas with exotic selections.) As expected, Birdman and Boyhood are sweeping the categories (a predictable result of the split between drama and comedy). Amy is my only real surprise so far.
was never actually filmed. A script existed, sure, but the whole thing was saturated with those typical WW2 tropes. There was a slight attempt at a New Hollywood-style departure from the standard black-and-white morality play, but clearly not enough to get it greenlit back then. Then some idiot eventually dug up the old screenplay, and now we’re stuck with Killing Season.
It isn't pro-Mexican, nor is it anti-Mexican; the film is simply shallow, misguided, and the backstory is entirely disconnected from reality. To put it bluntly, the movie is garbage. An interesting bit of trivia: the script is actually quite old, dating back to the 1970s if I recall correctly, and was originally conceived as a hunting conflict between an American and a German veteran officer. The producers, hailing from Belgium and Bulgaria (and they didn't even film this in America), realized that the conflict in Canada was still much fresher in the public consciousness, so they clumsily reworked the script to fit. That scene involving the train car and the victims killed by gas serves as perfect evidence for that theory.
What on earth is happening with Antonio Banderas? There was a time when he was a genuinely successful actor, pulling in massive Hollywood checks despite his clear limitations—specifically his shaky English and acting range that fluctuated between mediocre and subpar. Nevertheless, he possessed a certain rugged, primitive charisma that made him a favorite among female audiences, much like the archetype of the dashing Latino lover stepping into a home to fix a leak or tend the garden. Looking at the attached material (or rather, this gum advertisement), it is evident that age has not been kind to him; his appearance has declined, and while his integrity remains intact, significant roles have begun to pass him by. One could argue his career peaks now occur when he works with Pedro Almodóvar (who has himself become somewhat worn out by his own farces), when he plays the dark, mysterious stranger in a romantic comedy, or when he settles for cameos alongside Sylvester Stallone in The Expendables or Robert Rodriguez in Machete film style productions. Automata, a Spanish-Bulgarian co-production that feels like a budget attempt at Europacorp trash, was clearly conceived as a vehicle to jumpstart his career, following the blueprint of how Luc Besson’s action flicks revitalized the careers of 90s action and thriller stars. Let us not kid ourselves: Banderas is no Liam Neeson, and Ibanez is certainly no Besson, which renders Automata a rather uninspired film. It possesses perhaps a few decent ideas and one or two competent technical flourishes, but it is ultimately weighed down by a multitude of contradictions that sink the project before it even gets off the ground. The film is an odd assortment of tropes. We are presented with urban noir vistas reminiscent of the decay found in Blade Runner, yet we also have robots. These robots, however, do not look like androids dreaming of electric sheep; they look more like sketches from an ancient picture book. Then there is the post-apocalyptic wasteland, echoing Mad Max, though it is inexplicably sun-drenched. The plot itself is a muddled mix: part noir, part corporate thriller, with a faint undercurrent of satire or a farce involving a robotic vending machine. To make matters worse, the setting of this apocalypse is explained via title cards accompanied by terrifying imagery of solar storms, all set against a pervasive, omnipresent soundtrack.
more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2014/11/automata.html
The Pass is undeniably an innovative, meticulously crafted, and deeply layered film. One might even describe it as something magical and spellbinding; it possesses a certain gravity that forces the viewer to acknowledge its seriousness and contemporary relevance. The primary issue lies in its almost banal premise of romantic love triangles, which unfortunately dictate several "soap opera" style twists and revelations. However, for those capable of looking past such tropes, The Pass reveals itself as a sophisticated human drama—a narrative centered on the uglier aspects of existence, the things we typically prefer to ignore. Perhaps we truly cannot leave the past behind us as long as there are lingering consequences pulling at our heels.
more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2014...asse-past.html
One needs an idea, though that idea certainly doesn't have to be entirely original—not in any absolute sense. A few nods to pop culture phenomena, some clever quotes, and a solid grasp of technical craft go a long way. The objective is to create a compelling blend, and The One I Love manages this quite effectively. It is, first and foremost, a genre mashup that weaves together elements of drama, mystery, comedy, romance, and sci-fi, even touching upon thriller and horror territory, all while primarily focusing on just two actors. It sounds somewhat whimsical, yet it works perfectly well. Despite being a newcomer, the young McDowell is no amateur; it is quite evident that he has either attended film school or at least studied the art of cinema extensively on his own. His sense of pacing is worthy of Hitchcock, and his use of suspense and surprise is distributed with precision, much like his visual cues, even if the soundtrack feels a bit intrusive at times. He isn't overly heavy-handed with his references, either; the film clearly signals only two major influences—The Twilight Zone and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?—but one can detect traces of various other famous films and literary works. We can recognize the influence of Solaris, Inception, or the prose of Stephen King, as well as the work of the duo Kaufman-Jonz. How one perceives The One I Love depends entirely on the viewer's perspective. I approached it as a seasoned cinephile, and I was not disappointed. I found it difficult to approach it any other way, though any other method is perfectly legitimate. Fans of specific genres will undoubtedly find something to enjoy, but I fear they might miss the broader picture. Naturally, the film is not without its flaws, and once all the narrative tricks have been played, it needs a way to wrap things up; McDowell handles this somewhat tentatively, relying on conventional resolutions that feel at odds with the eccentricity that defines the rest of the film. Even so, The One I Love is absolutely worth watching, perhaps even more than once.
more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2014...ne-i-love.html
What prevents this film from sinking into the gray monotony typical of festival dramas are its occasional outbursts of dark humor, which mostly revolve around the protagonist and her various personal grievances. The young actress Thorbjörg Helga faces quite the challenge in portraying her role without sliding into pure sentimentality or caricature, yet she succeeds, earning genuine sympathy and empathy from the audience. She is aided significantly by Ragnar Bragason, who provides a steady—if not particularly inventive—script alongside confident direction and frequent shifts in pacing. The supporting characters are well-developed and believable, brought to life by seasoned American actors who play their parts with skill and restraint. This ensures that Metalhead feels like a grounded, small-town life story that one might have easily encountered in cinema or heard about in passing. Where Metalhead fails as a piece of cinema is in its tendency to use heavy metal music merely as a soundtrack to signal a stereotypical "outsider" environment. The film isn't truly "heavy metal" at its core, which makes the aesthetic feel somewhat tasteless. If you were to swap the soundtrack for, say, punk rock, you would be left with the impression of watching an American version of out of The Blue (Dennis Hopper, 1980). While the soundtrack itself features a decent selection of tracks, one particular song (Megadeth's Symphony of Destruction) is played so repetitively that it becomes exhausting. That specific detail isn't necessarily a dealbreaker, and it will likely only be noticed by someone who has ever identified as a metalhead, but it reveals more about the filmmaker than one might initially assume. It simply demonstrates that Ragnar Bragason was never part of that subculture; he doesn't understand it, nor does he seem genuinely interested in it. And that is precisely why Metalhead is such a typical film: it just isn't "metal" enough.
more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2014...-malmhaus.html
Honestly, I fail to see the purpose of these sequels when the original film reached such a definitive conclusion. One wonders if they exist solely to exploit the naivety of the audience.
James Garcia50 said:Honestly, for an American flick, the ending actually lands. The anticlimax hits right where it should, perfectly timed.
But the whole movie left me feeling a bit annoyed. Even though Locke comes across as this decent, responsible guy, it feels like he’s only that way because his uncle was such a scumbag. Half of American cinema (and literature, really) is just built on the sins of the father, isn't it? 🙄
The only caveat is that Locke is actually a British film, albeit one bolstered by a modest amount of American funding. It isn't a massive point, but let's be accurate.
James Garcia50 said:It’s a drama, not a thriller, and honestly, it doesn't pretend to be anything else. From the opening shots, you can tell it's just an actor telling his life story while driving.
Hardy is a great actor and I've always been a fan, so the story is what it is. My only gripe is how often he keeps addressing his late father. If they cut that out, this little Hardy monologue would be much tighter, smoother, and easier to sit through.
Nothing happens. That's just life.
The whole specter of the deceased father bit is a fine concept, yet it feels like a rather tired trope for establishing internal monologue. A single conversation with his wife would have provided more than enough background context. It is true that the conclusion could have taken a different path; as it stands, it feels somewhat anticlimactic, though I suppose that remains a legitimate creative choice. Those are the only two flaws worth noting. I find it quite fascinating how such a claustrophobic film manages to remain so remarkably dynamic.
Honestly, folks, this movie is a total riot from start to finish, and it’s executed with a very specific kind of intention. Every single detail is dialed up to eleven, but somehow, it all feels perfectly placed. If you're looking for credibility or realism, you won't find any here—not even in theory. It makes you wonder why David Ayer, acting as his own writer, would bother seeking input from Skip Woods, an author who is frankly far inferior. My advice? Treat it as pure trash and just enjoy the ride.
more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2014/08/sabotage.html
There exists a certain palpable distance in the criticism surrounding the work of Terry Gilliam since the original Monty Python troupe split ways—a disconnect that the general audience hasn't quite mirrored. Public opinion remains sharply divided between those who view Gilliam as an exceptionally compelling director capable of crafting twisted, captivating universes, and those who find his style exhausted or simply exhausting. It is an undeniable fact, however, that his films fluctuate wildly in quality; they can descend into chaos and confusion, often prioritizing an "outlandish" visual identity over a coherent narrative. While his work frequently aims a critical edge at society and its trajectory, he occasionally fails to land the message effectively. Nevertheless, it remains an absolute certainty that Terry Gilliam possesses a signature style: screaming, frenetic, fantastical, and possessed of an epic scale. The same applies to The Zero Theorem, a Sci-Fi film that seems to draw heavy inspiration from Philip K. Dick and carries the ambition to provoke thought. Gilliam maintains that, when considering various parameters, this is his lowest-budget production—pieced together from three different sources and filmed in Bucharest in less than a month. Yet, visually, one would hardly know it, as the effects are meticulously designed and executed to perfection. Any lack of funding might be felt in what feels like a premature, aggressive, and overly heavy-handed ending, though that could just as easily be a flaw in the original script rather than a result of production constraints. All things considered, The Zero Theorem is a solid film that looks fantastic and offers genuine entertainment. That holds true for a first viewing; upon a second pass, once the plot is known and the frenetic atmosphere ceases to overwhelm even a seasoned viewer, I begin to sense the gaps, the oversights, and the impression of something cobbled together in haste, fueled by excessive ambition. In truth, the film's primary issue is that, both thematically and stylistically (via its retro-futurism), it is most similar to Brazil. This invites inevitable comparisons to his predecessor, even if the focal points differ. The Zero Theorem isn't quite on that level, but since Brazil remains the singular masterpiece, it begs the question of why a formidable director like Gilliam would make the mistake of making us wish his better film was this one instead.
more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2014...o-theorem.html or on FAK
The film’s subtext is overtly feminist, which serves as a rather innovative stylistic choice. This secret society of male vampires—which exclusively admits "respectable and honorable gentlemen" on the brink of death—functions as a sharp metaphor for conservatism, patriarchal structures, old money, or more generally, male-dominated cliques where women are systematically excluded. In these spaces, women are treated as interlopers who must either be purged or subjected to constant scrutiny, often forced to prove themselves or act even more aggressively than their male counterparts just to survive. I find myself questioning how much this resonates in our contemporary landscape, an era where we have seen women ascend to high office, lead major corporations, and enjoy unprecedented career agency. Whether one chooses to take the screenwriter at her word is entirely a matter of personal discretion, but her perspective and angle of attack are presented with enough clarity and logical rigor to be understood.
On the whole, Byzantium is a refreshing piece of cinema that attempts to reclaim the vampire genre from its post-Twilight decline. Furthermore, it offers an original context that dismantles the standard American pop-culture trope of the vampire acting as the horror-coded liberal or outsider within a conservative society. The issue arises when considering that Byzantium brings nothing truly groundbreaking to the actual mechanics of vampirism itself; the subject matter might alienate more mature, discerning viewers, while the somber, heavy atmosphere could repel those seeking the typical action-packed or soap-operatic thrills associated with the genre. For me and my generation, Byzantium feels like a revitalizing retro experience, subtly evoking the essence of Lestat, Louis, and the other vampires that defined our youth. Unfortunately, there simply aren't enough of us aging dark enthusiasts left in today's mainstream audience.
read more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2013/10/byzantium.html
Ultimately, most of the film's punchlines are already front-loaded into the trailer—much like a toddler discovering a condom on the doorstep (though one wonders which parent would actually let their child play in a dumpster). Consequently, there isn't much left to surprise anyone. Serious moments are virtually non-existent, and when they do surface, they are given such fleeting screen time between bouts of cartoonish absurdity that they feel like nothing more than hollow clichés. It is quite a missed opportunity; Neighbors had the potential to be a sophisticated, well-constructed comedy with a legitimate underlying subtext. That failure can be attributed both to the clumsy direction, which prioritizes blaring, obnoxious songs over almost everything else, and to a script by two newcomers that feels amateurish, recycled, and entirely predictable. If you aren't in the mood to leave your brain at the door, I suggest skipping this one. You will likely find yourself merely irritated by the sheer volume of stupidity.
more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2014/07/neighbors.html
It is painfully obvious that The Monuments Man was engineered specifically for award season momentum. Then, predictably, the usual bullshit alarms started going off. The trailers were met with widespread derision, and the premiere was pushed from Christmas to February under the convenient guise of "post-production needs." When the film finally hit theaters, the critical reception was tepid—which, for a major studio production, is a definitive signal of mediocrity. The reviews might have been even harsher had it not featured Clooney, but I see no reason to go easy on him. It turns out there is very little actual history here, aside from the fact that World War II actually happened and that a unit within the U.S. military existed to recover stolen art. The fundamental issue, however, lies in the film's tone. Clooney seemed entirely unsure of what he wanted The Monuments Men to be; at times, it functions as an inspiring (if not somewhat pathetic) and politically correct war melodrama—where a woman is essentially replaced by land and cultural heritage—while at other moments, it attempts to reach the heights of a classic lighthearted war comedy (good grief, the protagonists don't even manage to shoot a single German during their adventures). Occasionally, it tries to mimic a caper in the vein of Ocean's Eleven, and at points, it seems to wish it were Tarantino filming Inglourious Basterds. Perhaps a single film can encompass all these elements, though I highly doubt it; certainly, it cannot attempt them all simultaneously. Had Clooney possessed more courage—had he abandoned this politically correct, occasionally numbing, "ex cathedra" approach in favor of pure comedy—The Monuments Men could have been a mega-cool romp that nobody took seriously. Just a plain, enjoyable movie. The Monuments Men serves as a textbook example of what happens when an auteur's ambitions far exceed their actual achievements. Because Clooney and Heslov failed to sit down and properly study the material to see what it could truly become, they resort to every possible generic trope and ultimately fail. As a war film, The Monuments Men misses the mark entirely; the war is merely a backdrop, and the characters feel like they were cut from cardboard. As a comedy, it isn't funny enough and lacks pacing, as it is not uncommon for a comedic beat to end dramatically or vice versa. Even as a drama, it doesn't feel nearly sincere enough to move an intelligent viewer. Then again, The Monuments Men isn't absolute garbage; it’s watchable, easy to follow, undemanding, and likely morally upright. And, unfortunately, utterly forgettable.
To be perfectly honest, I was expecting something significantly worse. What we have here is essentially a Bond film attempting to masquerade as something else. It isn't terrible, but it certainly isn't impressive.
The casting choices leave much to be desired. While Chris Pine is adequate in his role as a young Jack Ryan, he fails to leave any distinct mark on the character. Kevin Costner, however, is quite convincing as the seasoned veteran and heavy hitter; more importantly, he proves that he remains a reliable talent in this industry. Kenneth Branagh seems to have taken this role either out of pure ego or perhaps sheer necessity; he constantly looks as though he belongs in a far superior production, yet he simultaneously manages to have a great time playing the Bond-style villain. Keira Knightley is an obvious misstep; her character is shallow and simplistic, and since she is an actress suited for more nuanced roles, she spends most of the runtime acting like a wooden plank. A minor highlight is the ballet dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov, appearing in a cameo as a high-ranking official at The White House. Despite being an uneven and ultimately trashy effort assembled from available—but not necessarily top-tier—components, Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit isn't a total disaster. The action sequences are tense, the spy thriller plotline functions as intended, and the pacing never drags. The strangest aspect is how, amidst all the massive budgets and Hollywood maneuvering, they somehow managed to capture the zeitgeist once again. A new Cold War has already emerged, fought through economic means, while the memory of the previous one remains vividly alive in the American consciousness.
more at: http://film-na-dan.blogspot.com/2014...w-recruit.html