Welcome to a new series I'm starting here on this blog called 'Review Roundup'. Basically, ever since I started using Letterboxd over five years ago, I've slowly become more accustomed to writing reviews for the films I watch on there rather than on here, with this blog now mostly being reserved for end of year lists and such. But, this means that my reviews are somewhat inaccessible, as a lot of people I know who are interested in reading them aren't Letterboxd users. So, I thought I'd find a way to fix this, and so this series is the solution! Every month or so, I'll compile some of my latest reviews from Letterboxd into one post on here, allowing anyone not on the app or just anyone who might have missed them on there to give them a read. What this also means is that, while I usually focus on newly released films when writing on this blog, I'll now switch things up a bit by sharing the reviews I write for any older films I watch as well, which I'm looking forward to doing since, if you read my previous post, you'll know my enthusiasm for present cinema isn't all too strong. Most of these are quite short pieces and they may be a bit more informal than what you've come to expect from here, and there might also be some implied contextual details missing given that I usually write on Letterboxd under the assumption that the reader has seen previous diary entries and so on, but hopefully they'll still give you enough of an idea about my thoughts on the films in question. If you'd like to see more, just head over to my Letterboxd page for yourself (@Quetty). So, let's begin this inaugural roundup!
To organise things, the reviews are listed in order of the date I watched and reviewed them, and I've sorted them into three separate categories:
- NEW: for a newly released film.
- CATCH-UP: for a somewhat recent film I've only just got around to watching.
- THROWBACK: for any film released some time ago.
NEW: Sonic the Hedgehog 3 (Jeff Fowler, 2024) - reviewed 03/01/2025
"I’m not a Sonic fan in the least, yet even I can’t help but admire just
how far this film adaptation series has come along over the years. It
began with just plopping this popular character into a restrictive kids
movie framework, then stepped things up by narratively aligning itself
closer to the source material and cutting out some of the fluff, all the
way to here where they’ve really refined the formula to properly focus
on the main aspects of interest and deliver a very solid and
consistently entertaining watch. When also considering how it’s reached
this point many years on from that initial kerfuffle over the original
Sonic design and has done so in a relatively short space of time and
amid significant disruptions to the film industry (COVID lockdowns,
actors / writers strikes), it just becomes all the more impressive.
Honestly, more power to it. These films aren’t anything groundbreaking,
but there’s a real charm and, dare I say, sincerity about them that I
don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing, and the way they somehow
manage to keep getting better against all odds is something I’m
absolutely here for. Plus, I’d be lying if I said things like Shadow
Akira-sliding up the side of a building isn’t one of the most epic
things I’ve seen in a while. Plenty of fun to be had, love to see it." 7/10
THROWBACK: The Wildcat (Ernst Lubitsch, 1921) - reviewed 23/01/2025
"Now THAT is the Lubitsch I know and love back at it again! While I
admired his non-comedic efforts like Sumurun and Anna Boleyn, there was a
consistent feeling throughout them that Lubitsch was rather restrained
in the director’s seat due to the unique tones at hand, slipping his
usual sensibilities through the cracks wherever possible but overall
unable to reach his previous heights. Well, that is anything but the
case here! This is about as Lubitsch-y a picture as they come; chaotic,
goofy, sly, and unbelievably visually inventive. What really stands out
here is seeing him continue to extract as much potential for expression
as possible from the visuals by doing so on a more fundamental and
formal level, most notably with the variety of playful aspect ratios
used that correspond with on-screen actions, but also with other
techniques like double exposure and image distortion. Additionally, his
usual directorial hallmarks are firing on all cylinders, with tons of
organised chaos in the form of the usual bustling groups consisting of
countless moving parts as well as speedy and satisfying choreography and
movements amid such. It doesn’t quite have the extra layer of magic as
The Doll, which is really a one of a kind amalgamation of everything to
love about the silent era and what it represents, but it’s easily the
closest I’ve seen Lubitsch come to achieving such in his other silent
works. It’s also the funniest film of his aside from the latter, as so
many of the bonkers antics throughout had me consistently chuckling
away. Whether it was full on set pieces like that extraordinary
cat-and-mouse style chase or just the odd action like people falling
over, tumbling out of windows, or crying streams of water, just about
everything is cranked up to the max and it’s wonderful. Honestly feels
like a live action cartoon, everything from its simplistic yet striking
sets and costumes, greatly expressive characters, borderline refusal to
comply with any sort of real-world logic, and complete faith in what is
visually constructed and communicated, it’s amazing to see a live action
piece achieve so much that I once thought was exclusive to the animated
realm. Man, I hate to say it but where has this level of craftsmanship
gone in the world of film nowadays? Pola Negri absolutely smashes it
here too, would love to see more of her comedic roles, it’s so nice
after Sumurun to see how much more dynamic of a performer she was than
perhaps just another ‘it’ girl. Lubitsch is quickly becoming one of my
favourite filmmakers of years past, the guy has single-handedly got me
interested in exploring silent cinema more, and while he maybe doesn’t
represent the versatility of this area with his output, he’s undeniably
convinced me that there’s ever so much to be amazed by, and the The
Wildcat embodies much of this." 8/10
NEW: Nosferatu (Robert Eggers, 2024) - reviewed 24/01/2025
"Seems like I’m the last person on the planet to see this, but better
late than never. Enjoyed it a fair bit, though I’m not entirely sure how
much it adds to this story beyond the distinct direction. While I may
have enjoyed this one more than the 1922 version due to it inherently
being more accessible, I think I’d be more inclined to choose the latter
if I was to revisit one or the other, partially because I’m more
interested in the mechanics and aesthetics of silent cinema at this
point in time, but also because I feel like everything on offer there is
just a bit more memorable. Sure, that’s largely because it’s very
iconic stuff, but also because the construction at hand is just a lot
more striking in my mind than what this has to offer. While it does
stand sufficiently on its own through its comparatively more slick and
elegant approach to this material, implementing plenty of techniques
that probably weren’t possible back in the day, it does at times feel
reducible to simply a more polished and elaborately crafted rendition of
the story. That’s not a bad thing as Eggers’ direction is undoubtedly
very assured and so the film is extremely watchable, but it does make
its moments of directly drawing upon the original feel slightly shallow.
Is it applying a unique twist beyond the way things look? I don’t
entirely know, but I’d be willing to familiarise myself more with both
versions (as well at the 1970s one I’m yet to see) to work out exactly
what each brings to the table. Despite all this, the thing that stood
out to me the most is that there is something quite interesting about
seeing a so-called ‘elevated horror’ approach to what is otherwise a
very traditional horror story; while Nosferatu 1922 is a very
prestigious piece, I think it’s fair to say that it’s also a definitive
instance of the basic horror monster narrative, a precursor to what
would become popularised during the classical Hollywood years. So, to
see such a traditional feeling horror narrative articulated through a
style often associated with more complex horror works (namely that of
Eggers’) had a certain charm to it, even if it raised the
slight questions of redundancy I alluded to. I suppose that adds a bit
more to be admired, the fact that the film doesn’t lose any ounce of
credibility or come off as silly as a result, even though some elements
(such as the admittedly somewhat goofy characterisation) make that a
likely possibility. Anyway, good stuff overall, perhaps my least
favourite of Eggers’ output, but my Mum and I have now seen his last
three films at the cinema so we’re committed fans of his now!" 7/10
CATCH-UP: Emilia Pérez (Jacques Audiard, 2024) - reviewed 26/01/2025
"I can’t bring myself to join everyone in hating this, but I also can’t
deny the lack of much worthy of praise either. I’m not in the best
position to judge whether this film’s exploration of trans issues or its
cultural representation are tasteful, but what I think I can say is
that the whole thing just felt so performative in its overall approach.
There’s especially very little gained from the musical format here, if
anything it actually works against what the film is trying to go for. I
usually like the heightened and over the top narratives that can be
derived from this style and genre, but here I felt it had the undesired
effect of reducing its representative elements to a matter of
caricatures, flamboyantly showcasing their superficialities in a way
that resulted in a limited (or sometimes outright misguided) engagement
with the issues at hand. In other words, it’s the perfect film for
awards season, as it passes itself off as progressive and inclusive on
the surface but offers little of insight upon closer inspection. It’s
sad just how easily the musical form can be manipulated into a tool for
this sort of thing, as when it isn’t being used as incisively as it has
the potential to be, it’s easy for it to simply become a vessel for
barraging the audience with otherwise shallow ideas, not to mention
doing so in a manner that falsely connotes high art and sophistication,
as is desperately attempted here. So, yes, it’s no surprise that awards
voters seem to be falling for the illusions of intelligence and
progressiveness on display here, and what’s worse is that such will
probably give musical haters all the more fuel for what I believe are
dismissive feelings towards such a diverse and exciting genre, even
though there was recently a glimmer of hope that the tide may be turning
there due to the success of Wicked. The music itself wasn’t terrible,
some of the lyrics are a bit questionable but the melodies themselves
were often catchy and occasionally effective. Whenever it isn’t a
musical it’s all rather stagnant, dull, and even ugly-looking stuff, so
even if it greatly misuses this form, such at least made the film
memorable. It was also never too boring as a result of this, and there
was plenty for my friends and I to point and laugh at every now and
then. It’s a mess no doubt, but I guess you could do a lot worse? Again,
I don’t really feel qualified to weigh in on more specific aspects here
without coming across as ignorant, so take what I say with a grain of
salt on that front. Obviously I don’t think this deserves to win Oscars,
but I’m so beyond caring about what wins or loses at these awards
ceremonies in general by now so I honestly couldn’t give a [REDACTED] if it
does or not. I like the films I like and that’s all the validation they
need, a group of other people deeming it worthy of a little golden
trophy is unnecessary, and society will only move forward when everyone
else agrees on that fact. Ugh, I really hate this time of year in the
film world sometimes." 5/10
THROWBACK: Carry On Henry (Gerald Thomas, 1971) - reviewed 29/01/2025
"Back to carrying on with the Carry Ons, and what better an entry to
welcome me back into the series! This is probably about as perfect as a
Carry On film can be, managing to succeed in many places where other
entires failed. I find the history-oriented ones to be some of the most
conceptually appealing, and when done right, such as with this one or
Carry On Don’t Lose Your Head, they can easily be some of the best.
What’s especially good about this one is that its source of satire, that
being Tudor era England, is a lot more localised; in strictly focusing
on English historical figures operating strictly within an English
setting, it avoids disrespectfully creating comedy at the expense of
other countries and cultures (aside from France, I suppose, but I think
it’s fair to say the film’s poking fun at them is no greater than that
of England). This is something that films like Carry On Up the Khyber
and Carry On Up the Jungle have a tendency to do, and it definitely
makes them a bit uncomfortable to watch today given how such aspects
haven’t aged well at all. Conversely, relentlessly mocking a figure like
Henry VIII is far more welcome, coming across a lot more tasteful and
even self-conscious as a film gladly pointing and laughing at the
history of the country to which it belongs and nothing more. It’s funny
how unintentionally close I watched this to Ernst Lubitsch’s Anna
Boleyn, a completely different interpretation of such to say the least,
though seeing this only makes me wish he stuck to his comedic routes in
depicting this figure as the potential was very clearly there. On top of
that, the film manages to account for other elements that usually weigh
these films down, adopting a more streamlined narrative that doesn’t
waste time on dull subplots, starring and making the most of my
favourite regular cast members, and also finding more interesting ways
of being funny. Yes, there’s still plenty of the naff innuendos and
somewhat misogynistic moments that make it feel suitably of its time and
thus a bit awkward, but there’s also an abundance of more intelligent
and timeless comedy in the form of terrific visual gags and clever
wordplay, the latter being made especially memorable due to the
priceless delivery of actors such as Williams and James. For me, this is
far more enjoyable than the reliance on outdated cultural attitudes
that Carry On usually derives its humour from, so this was simply
hilarious compared to much of what the series has had to offer before on
this front (the torture chamber stuff alone was practically funnier
than the entirety of certain previous films). Lots of Blackadder II
vibes from this one for sure, though absolutely not as refined or
assured. It’s still largely imperfect, at this point I don’t think I’ll
ever see a Carry On film that is completely self aware and thoughtfully
put together, but if this is the best they can do, I have faith there
will be a few more gems awaiting me as I myself carry on with them. It’s
been over a year since I began now, and we’ve still got a way to go…!" 8/10
NEW: Better Man (Michael Gracey, 2024) - reviewed 01/02/2025
"While the short term fate of this film is practically sealed as a flop
by now, everything I’ve heard about it these last few weeks got me
curious enough to show it a bit of love, especially compared to some
other films out at the minute. I’m glad I did because, in line with the
impression I was previously given, it’s a lot better than it could’ve
been, mainly because it successfully approaches the genre at hand in
numerous interesting and unique ways. It’s a lot more sincere than most
of these music biopics tend to feel, where despite being a bit
expectedly self important, it does genuinely come across as [Robbie] Williams
willingly taking the chance to confront his past and display his
vulnerabilities so to rationalise on his gradual shift towards
overcoming a sense of self loathing. There is the usual emotionally
manipulative sense about it, but it can very easily be taken as a
personal catharsis for the central figure more so than an attempt at
cynically gathering sympathy. It doesn’t seem like a film that exists to
indulge in the success of its protagonist, in fact it’s actually rather
firmly critical of the mindset he seemingly upheld when pursuing his
career in music, that being the vacuous desire for the validation of
others instead of satisfying his own interests. This is all very well
aided by the portrayal of Williams as a chimpanzee, on the one hand
there to reflect his view of himself as essentially a ‘performing
monkey’ for others to get something out of, but on the other also to
signify the sense of inertia he finds himself in later in life as
someone who hasn’t mentally advanced, or rather ‘evolved’, beyond their
immature and reckless youthful state of being. The effect is seamless,
honestly rivalling the similar VFX work seen in the recent Planet of the
Apes films, and it crucially doesn’t take you out of the film for one
minute. This is partially because, beyond its primary purpose, the
gimmick also feeds into the film’s other main strength, that being its
deliberate rejection of realism. While other music biopics are often
weighed down by merely relaying the facts at hand with extremely flat
direction (despite the fact that in dramatising their respective stories
there’s already an inherent degree of embellishment), Better Man
proudly rolls with its conceptual removal from reality as much as it
possibly can in practice. It functions as a full on musical, and
Gracey’s direction is very committed and effortlessly puts a refreshing
spin on the existing tunes heard throughout. Elegant and fluid
cinematography, lively and mesmerising colours and lighting, and an
overall distinct visual aesthetic make this simply a feast for the eyes
as well as the ears. It’s always so nice to see a music biopic that
aspires to be an exercise in creatively weaving its respective music
into the film form, which I think should be the very least you could ask
for in a film literally about a musical artist, right? It’s this very
thing that frankly minimises my urge to check out the currently very
popular A Complete Unknown, which from what I’ve seen looks like a far
more typical music biopic, no doubt containing a memorable central
performance but one that will probably be operating under some dull
direction, especially if James Mangold’s previous contribution to this
genre, Walk the Line, is anything to go by. As it stands, Better Man is
easily one of the best examples of a music biopic in recent memory,
right up there with the likes of Rocketman, a thematically and
stylistically similar piece in many ways. Really the only thing that
could be said to let it down isn’t even a problem with the film itself
but just the contextual factor of Williams perhaps not being the most
relevant or warranted subject for such a film, as you can’t help but
wonder if applying everything going on here to someone more iconic or
renowned would’ve yielded a more rewarding experience, which is how I
felt about Rocketman given that I’m a huge Elton John fan. That said, as
someone who went into the film not considering themselves to be much of
a Robbie Williams fan, I did come out realising that I do like a lot
more of his songs than I previously thought, as many numbers involved a
tune I liked and recognised but didn’t know was his. For that reason and
many others, I’m actually really glad this film was able to get made as
it did and that it is uniquely Williams’ story, so here’s to hoping it
eventually becomes a cult classic that reemerges when the general
public’s engagement with otherwise flavourless music biopics finally
starts to decline." 8/10
THROWBACK: Cleopatra (Cecil B. DeMille, 1934) - reviewed 04/02/2025
"Surprisingly cohesive as a precursor to Cleopatra ‘63, not the most
remarkable feat given that both are drawing upon the same historical
source material, but nonetheless nice to watch unfold as certain moments
and scenes (Cleopatra being wrapped up in the rug, the parade) are
largely reminiscent of the later film. In some ways, I’d actually say
this is a more successful rendition, mainly due to the superior
characterisation. I can’t quite remember Cleopatra ‘63 in clear detail,
but from what I can recall, for a film over four hours in length, its
portrayal of the titular figure is bizarrely shallow. It has a bit of an
identity crisis regarding how it wishes to depict her, with some
attempts at constructing a tragic and sympathetic character, but such
often falling flat given that most of the picture elsewhere seems
focused on making her more seductive and manipulative, almost femme
fatale esque. It’s not that these two sides can’t cooperate and form a
uniquely complex whole, it’s just that the film itself fails to combine
them in a way that successfully does so, as it’s often quite reductively
reliant on the fact that Elizabeth Taylor is rather easy on the eyes to
make her particularly compelling. Comparatively, Cleopatra ‘34 is a lot
more refined in how it constructs the central character; she’s still
expectedly sexualised much of the time, but here you truly feel the
hollow and complicated nature of the life she belongs to as well as how
frustrating the impact of political turmoil is on her relationships with
others and how she’s viewed. It’s a lot more engaging, and with a
tighter script that’s moderately economical regarding how much time is
dedicated to introspection versus spectacle, it’s easily a more
efficient and even a more effective piece than the 1963 film. The key
thing that the latter obviously has over this one is its presentation,
as the scope at hand there is ludicrously impressive and features
production design that’s as lavish and sumptuous as can be, as well as
some gorgeous colours that can perhaps best be observed through Taylor’s
countless costumes. While such isn’t always matched by what it has
going on beneath the surface, it remains quite stunning as an experience
to take in. To its credit, though, while not without some slight
inelegance, Cleopatra ‘34 does a solid job at creating a sense of
grandeur, with lots of clever camera movements and editing tricks that
subtly make things seem on a vast scale despite mostly being contained.
That slow tracking shot that starts on Cleopatra and gradually moves
down the length of the ship with the thunderous sound of drums in the
background was especially memorable on this front, as were the well
orchestrated and energetic battle scenes. Sure, while what it has to
offer on a formal level would never really hold a candle to what
Cleopatra ‘63 would bring to the table (especially when looking at their
versions of the parades, to say it’s no competition would be an
understatement), it’s still charming to notice the clear evolution
between the two films and how much things clearly expanded and advanced
down the line. As someone who wants to be more adversed in the world of
epic cinema, I found it valuable to watch something from relatively
early in the genre’s history, particularly from before the prolific
years of the 1950s and 60s, and to note how things developed over time.
Overall, a great watch, now all I need to watch is Carry On Cleo and I
think I’ll be fulfilled regarding cinematic interpretations of this
historical figure!" 7/10
THROWBACK: The Big Country (William Wyler, 1958) - reviewed 09/02/2025
"I feel like this is the western I’ve been waiting to discover my whole life. I’ve never really been a fan of this genre, but this is one of the few I’ve seen that I can confidently say I adored, although it is quite a curious case as in many ways it’s actually something of an anti-western piece. Unlike other films of the genre, this doesn’t feel like an attempt to sincerely mythicise the American past through heightened and memorable figures, as it instead offers a cast of strikingly down to earth characters. Gregory Peck’s protagonist is far from your typical sharp shooting and heroic cowboy, he’s just a regular man entering the old west environment with nothing but a strong moral compass and conscience, and although this allows him to act as the voice of reason throughout much of the narrative, he remains largely imperfect, with numerous instances of incompetence such as his clumsy attempts to ride a notoriously difficult horse. He is, at the end of the day, just a human being, and the same goes for many of the others. No cartoonish villains to be found here either, in fact not really any overt villains at all. Both sides of the conflict have their issues and their sympathies, and it is through Peck’s character as an outsider that we are able to see them through an almost omniscient lens, similar to the worldview of Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke. There’s a tremendous sense of scope here, but such is not created so to appease the traditional desired elements of the western, but rather to offer a more novel critique of them. The film is largely opposed to intimacy, frequently keeping its characters at a distance from the viewer and ensuring that their actions are always registered within the broader picture, which demonstrates such aspects as the pettiness of personal feuds between conservative folks in powerful positions and the uncivilised, almost pathetic nature of resorting to violence as a means of settling issues. The shot composition is extremely effective, often framing the subjects to seem tiny compared to the vast landscapes they inhabit, not to mention efficient in using the widescreen format to communicate and capture as much as possible in doing so. Despite the epic scale, action and spectacle is rather scarce here, with the impact of injuries and deaths being strongly felt at each occurrence, and culminating in a climax that’s noticeably mundane in how it resolves the central conflict, fittingly so given how the film is firmly intent on displaying what little such can be reduced to despite how expansive it may initially appear. That title sequence promises everything you’ve come to expect from this genre on a massive scale, with its sweeping and energetic shots accompanied by the iconic and bombastic music, but what follows is a far more nuanced and thoughtful deconstruction, which, like all the great cinematic epics, has so much more to offer through its scope beyond merely looking and sounding beautiful (even though it effortlessly does precisely that too). Honestly, more so than maybe any other film, the title absolutely says it all here. As the characters frequently remark, the titular country is indeed a truly big one, with an abundance of space and potential for greatness as various factions of mankind navigate their places within, and it is only when the ultimately trivial and archaic conflicts among the latter are realised and moved past that something can be made of this potential. The infinitely perfect ending is a hopeful one, but is also underscored by a fair amount of melancholy; given the film’s place as a period piece, it’s somewhat bittersweet to see America in its infancy here, when all the makings of a potentially utopian land were in place, as such has no doubt never really come to fruition over time. It’s a sentiment that would’ve likely been impactful during the age of Cold War paranoia in which the film emerged, and it still bears much weight today given that the country seems to remain in a turbulent state. The myth that the film seeks to create is one of reminding us what could’ve been, hinting at the idealised world we desire all the while reaffirming its removal from reality. Man, there’s just so much to love here, and honestly barely anything I can say I didn’t like. I can’t even say anything about pacing or certain scenes being too slow or anything of that sort, as those 166 minutes went by like it was almost nothing. Aside from Calamity Jane this is probably my favourite western of all time, and a downright masterpiece in its own right. It pleases me to say that I now have hope that maybe I’ll eventually come around to enjoying what this genre has to offer some day." 9/10
NEW: Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy (Michael Morris, 2025) - reviewed 15/02/2025
"Bridget Jones is back and at her very best! I love this series, I’ll always have a soft spot for anything remotely belonging to the cohort of 90s / 2000s British romantic comedies (especially those involving Richard Curtis, Hugh Grant, etc.), so I’m always down to spend more time with these characters and have the mood of that era evoked. This was no different, being about as charming and funny a watch as ever with brilliant performances from everyone, especially Zellweger and Grant, and generally retaining the cosy atmosphere that makes these films so infectious and all round difficult to not enjoy. However, what’s particularly special about this one is that it doesn’t just settle for the bare minimum, as it actually does something meaningful with the passage of time that has passed since the previous entries. Bridget isn’t exactly as we remember her, noticeably a lot older and no longer surrounded by certain familiar faces in her life, and there’s a real sense of melancholy as she navigates things and tries to move forward in spite of such. I love stories about changing times and the various ways people come to terms with it, so to see that applied to this beloved character was surprisingly quite impactful. It feels like an actual evolution of the series, not content with just rehashing the familiar formula around slightly older characters (which is basically what Bridget Jones’s Baby was, although I still like that film more than others seem to). Nostalgic callbacks are thankfully rather few and far between, only being reserved for moments where they serve a purpose beyond being a cheap novelty or fan service. I was really struck by the desire to take matters more seriously here than ever before, as it really took its time with plenty of slow and sombre moments amid all the usual antics. And, well, I couldn’t help but find myself sobbing my way through just about the entirety of the third act (which I’m sure was a sight to behold for the couple sat right next to me). It’s definitely not a perfect film, with a fair bit of cringeworthy humour and an expectedly predictable narrative overall, but its heart could frankly not be more in the right place, so I’d say it’s an absolutely perfect final note for this delightful series!" 8/10
CATCH-UP: Anora (Sean Baker, 2024) - reviewed 18/02/2025
"A fairly breezy and enjoyable watch for the most part but also
strikingly profound at times, a rather delicate balance that the film
manages to admirably do a good job of maintaining. I can understand why
one may take issue with the comedic angle at certain points, but I think
the film has sufficient depth to offset whatever softening the lighter
moments may cause, and even so, the offbeat humour seems suitable for
the rather bizarre nature of the certain plot points at hand, and the
stark contrast between that and the more tragic scenes renders the
latter all the more compelling. It’s hard to walk away from this and
feel like what you saw was ill-judged in any way, especially with that
final note. It’s a tale of someone who has become accustomed to treating
sex and intimacy as a transactional affair who is then seemingly given
the chance to feel authentic love towards another person, only to
eventually be denied such in part due to how the life they lead is
viewed by others, amounting to the troubling question of whether they’re
ultimately capable of experiencing close connections as others do. The
specifics of this narrative on the surface are where the goofier aspects
find their place, but they don’t prevent the implications of what lies
beneath from being properly registered. [Mikey] Madison gives a very committed
and believable central performance, brilliantly anchoring every
emotional and physical step of this journey, and the supporting cast
helped to keep the experience entertaining. Not a film for everyone, at
times I certainly felt uncomfortable, but it does feel rewarding enough
on the whole and I’m glad to have seen it. Will be thinking about Anora
strolling around in her puffer jacket for the foreseeable future!" 8/10
THROWBACK: Hans Christian Andersen (Charles Vidor, 1952) - reviewed 21/02/2025
"I love musicals, I love film artifice, I love the art of storytelling, I have a soft spot for the Nordic world, this film was practically made for me! No doubt an excess of artistic liberties to be observed here, but what does it matter? If I wanted to learn about the life of Hans Christian Andersen, I’d watch a documentary or read his Wikipedia page. I came to this musical seeking a whimsical and heightened portrait of this iconic storyteller, and that’s precisely what I got. Endlessly charming and simply gorgeous to watch, I get that there’s nothing wildly unique going on formally here considering what the standard was for the time, but, man, you really can’t beat painted backdrops and Technicolor visuals, cinema just isn’t the same without them. It’s especially fitting here, as on top of the nicely distinct Danish atmosphere and aesthetic, just about every frame looks like something right out of a storybook, the sort of wondrous imagery connoted by what the protagonist is known for, that being his countless stories and fairy tales, which then leads on to one of the best things about the film. The very essence of storytelling is one of the main capabilities of cinema that has captured my imagination throughout the years, so to see pieces that examine the implications of such in any way is something I always appreciate. Sure, it’s extremely basic here compared to my favourite instances of this (A Monster Calls, The Breadwinner), but the sentiment nonetheless remains standing and it’s as endearing as can be. As for the musical side of things, of course I loved this! From that opening song alone, I practically knew I was in for a great time with this one. The songs are all terrific, some serving to put a refreshing spin on the beloved and ubiquitous tales, and others there to boost the overall fantastical nature of the film. I like how it situates Andersen as a character in a fairy tale narrative all of his own, as there’s something so magical about seeing how his imagination comes to life in various ways. Whether it’s The Little Mermaid diegetically being adapted from the page to the stage (as depicted in that hypnotic ballet number), or his own internal desires having their own process of reification through a theatrical form. As alluded to, I wouldn’t quite say the film is particularly self reflexive in terms of how it goes about conveying this central concept, more often than not just settling for indulging in the amiable vibes it enables, but such is as enchanting as can be, so this was nothing short of a fabulous watch. A delightful hidden gem to stumble across on such a rainy evening!" 8/10
NEW: I'm Still Here (Walter Salles, 2024) - reviewed 27/02/2025
"I went into this not realising that it was a true story. I was struck beyond all belief during the end credits. It’s refreshing to see a film that’s willing to embrace the prospect of changing times amid showing how daunting it can be. There’s something beautiful about watching the next generation grow up and find themselves able to live the lives that their parents could not. For those who made great sacrifices to ensure their children could reach this point, while whatever tragedy they persisted through may still leave an undeniable impact that will always be felt, and while suffering in other forms will likely continue to exist no matter what, there is still hope that, as one reaches the end of their life, they may be able to take solace in knowing that the world they are leaving behind is at least a little better than the one they entered. This film’s protagonist is beyond inspirational, faced with just about every reason to lose faith in the world around them, yet still choosing to be a good person regardless, for themselves, for their family, for whatever they can impact in their small corner of the world. It’s yet another film that reminds us to look for the beauty in everyday existence wherever possible, to process the value of every moment and curate a life of vivid memories worth remembering much the same way a film camera is able to capture that which it is faced with, allowing it to be projected with such clarity once all is said and done. There’s really something to be said for every space of time here; a rich understanding of the human desire to cling to the past and its familiarity, an honest depiction of the frustration surrounding an inert present, and a hopeful suggestion that the uncertainty of the future is something worth placing one’s faith in rather than dreading. The only constant in one’s life is oneself, and at the end of it all, while the world around you may change for better or worse, it is how you process it and choose to navigate it that defines a life. Indeed, to say that ‘I’m Still Here’ is to truly say it all." 8/10
