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Watched on Friday May 23, 2025.

Watched on Thursday May 22, 2025.

"Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K., he knew he had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested."

I distinctly when I read Kafka's The Trial (alongside The Stranger) in my freshmen year of uni for a law-related assignment and was met with a strong sense of dread afterwards. That similar feeling of trepidation slowly crept up my throat throughout the first 40 riotous minutes of Beau Is Afraid and choked me mercilessly. It's unpredictable, it's incredibly riveting, & most of all, it's fucking nerve-wracking. The bathtub scene was easily the most uncomfortable scene for me; it's like taking a warm shower and through the corner of your eye, you suddenly see a cockroach crawling towards you. That's to say, I absolutely loved it.

Unfortunately, this film is slightly longer than 40 minutes...a lot longer, in fact. This labyrinthine, disorienting offspring of 8½ and Synecdoche, New York is described by Aster himself as a "4-hour-long nightmare comedy" and "if you pumped a 10-year-old full of Zoloft, and had him get your groceries" (what does that even fucking mean?? also I need some of that Zoloft myself). Nightmare comedy, my ass. This is neither of those things. What is the majority of this odyssey even supposed to portray? Is it satire? Is it a family drama about the dangers of perverse ? Because in that case, Beau Is Afraid falls flat on both fronts as it weaponizes ambiguity. Are the surrealistic elements in this some type of fucked-up symbolism? If so, it definitely went over my head. I had a good time with Hereditary and I loved Midsommar even more, so what happened with this one? I think Ari Aster kinda lost me with this.

That said, I liked the Magritte fingerprints all over this film; the forest stage play in particular reminded me of the pieces The Human Condition, where representation replaces what's real. Other than that, the two main things I got from this are that a) Aster can't get enough of toxic familial dynamics and b) btwn this & the latest White Lotus, Parker Posey awakened something in me ("You want to live in TAIWAN?!"). Looking forward to the madness Aster has to offer in Eddington.

Well.... that was devastating.

Waves is bold. It's assertive, it's ambitious, it picks you up and drowns you in its grief and sorrow. It's a psychologically intense & kinetic character study of two entirely different characters, deliberately shifting the perspective at the mid-point to accentuate how trauma affects beyond a single person. I love it when films use or play with unconventional aspect ratios to visually represent something (The Grand Budapest Hotel, IToET, Saltburn, Andrea Arnold films, even the recent Sinners) and this film has five. It employs a 3.0:1 ratio at some point (?!)—when the emotional pressure is at its absolute peak—which I didn't think was even possible. The fact that the different aspect ratios are incorporated into the screenplay itself shows Shults' commitment to using cinematic language as a mirror for interior states, which is definitely commendable. I liked the film's bifurcated structure (à la Parasite) as well; just like a tidal wave, the first half is impactful, all forward momentum, and the other half, it gradually disintegrates and releases the tension.

Despite that, Waves certainly has its issues. It's obvious that the film borrows its aesthetics from its A24 "coming-of-age predecessor" and one of my favorite films of all time, Moonlight. It also resembles the uniquely stylized aspects of Euphoria; vibrant color scheme & fluid camerawork, so much so that at around the 40-minute mark, I had to stop the film and check if Sam Levinson was involved in the production. (he fortunately wasn't—that guy desperately needs to take a good look at a mirror ffs) I'm not saying that adopting a certain style is entirely a bad thing, however, in this case, it feels slightly derivative. In its execution, at least, since it frequently pushes the visual lyricism that Moonlight possesses to a melodramatic extreme. The soundtrack does not help its strengths either. You wanna know who listens to Frank Ocean a lot? Me (last year) and probably 30 million other ppl globally. At least I know to not constantly use it in a weighty melodrama. The needledrops are definitely well-curated (the "True Love Waits" placement is fucking diabolical), but at a certain point, the question arises: am I listening to the director's mainstream Spotify playlist? Or am I watching a film about redemption and healing? Also, your playlist is giving 'indie teen who thinks their music taste is different because they listen to AnCo & Tame Impala (and Amy Winehouse, apparently) every now and then'. First off, no you're not, and secondly, the soundtrack is so frequent and emotionally frontloaded that it becomes borderline performative. In fact, it feels shoehorned in than anything, instead of ing the characters' headspace like it should have. Lastly, the introspective narrative of the second half is a bit meandering in of pacing.

To sum it up, Waves seems like it's trying to say a lot, but it doesn't trust its audience to understand all of that w/o intrusive cues. I respect the warmhearted & bittersweet tone though. Taylor Russell is glowing here istg...anyway, nice film.

"Our daughter has been abducted by one of these beige lunatics!"

In the span of less than two weeks, I've visited The Florida Project, Spirited Away, and now this. Totally unintentional. OK, maybe a little bit.

The year is 1965, and two "troubled", misfit teenagers have just run away on a sentimental romantic adventure. Moonrise Kingdom is a melancholic & emotionally stirring ode to the fleeting, often fragile nature of first love, brimming with planimetric compositions, elaborate set designs, & an overall cabinets de curiosités aesthetic that the filmmaker is well-known for by now. A lot of ppl regard this as Wes Anderson's most Wes Anderson-y film, and I agree wholeheartedly. It distills his signature style to a storybook-like quality, heightening both its ironic detachment and sincerity towards childhood innocence. It's not just stylized direction, but more of an evocative work in favor (& service) of vulnerability and poignancy.

The two leads of this idiosyncratic fable, Sam and Suzy, bear wounds of their respective relationships with inept adult institutions. The scoutmaster, Suzy's parents who are dealing with their own issues, the social services agent—they all represent figures that are supposed to guide these children, yet they seem to be more immature than the leads themselves. Very TRT-esque approach; comionately framing this dysfunction and quietly suggesting these limitations derive from their emotional wounds. The children's heartwarming bond with each other is also treated likewise, though it might be presented as silly or naive. In this fantastical world that Anderson built, their love is elevated to a kind of affective truth; untainted, pure, ageless.

This is Anderson's best & most attentive work yet. And who knows, by the end of this marathon, this might just be my favorite from him.

"My suicide mission's been cancelled. We're replacing it with a go-for-broke rescue mission."

Truly fantastic. *whistle click click*

What the audience needed next from the diorama magician was a meticulous & quirky puppet animation take on the 55-year-old Roald Dahl classic, and he fucking delivered. (fr though, I cannot think of a single director other than Anderson making this; Disney could never) The novel's The Sting/Ocean's Eleven-esque charming caper plotline, complete with Mr. Fox's cunning strategies, is softened by sophisticated cinematography, deadpan humor, & an ironic sense of wistfulness. Mr. Fox's increasingly difficult balance between family life & "wildness" is surprisingly well-examined with the presence of Mrs. Fox and Ash—he hopes to become a responsible husband and father to his family while simultaneously can't stop pursuing his past thrill-seeking, reckless ways.

Speaking of, I'm not fond of the fact that Felicity is mostly overlooked in the film's discourse, because in many ways, she is the emotional anchor of FMF. She acts as a candid mirror to her husband's ego and is the only character who could have an unguarded heart-to-heart talk with him. She understands that survival isn't simply about who's more clever; it's about comion and community resilience. The way Anderson fleshes out his characters as he puts forth playful anthropomorphic charm is part of what makes the film so resonant. Moreover, can we talk about the autumn hue color palette? Definitely more vivid and textured, distinctly earthy—a feast for the eyes.

Also, a nice added detail that I noticed: at the start of the film, Mr. Fox mentions he is 7 non-fox years old, which puts him at 42 in human years by the film's logic. Midlife crisis much?

David Cronenberg, you sick fuck. The baboon scene and Ronnie's nightmare scene genuinely made me wanna throw up what I had for dinner. I am never going to go near this thing, unless I'm stupidly drunk.

Watched on Thursday May 15, 2025.

It's showtime, folks.

...a messy, deceivingly radiant, & brilliantly self-aware film of a man choreographing himself into his own grave. A film about death paradoxically pulsating with life, sweat, sex, & music. Fosse fully turns the camera on himself, looking inward and placing the focal point on his eventual demise. And the world keeps spinning. We keep dancing.

If the final sequence isn't playing at my funeral, I'm not coming.

A single doorbell chime, and the entire mood shifts. The second film kicks into action. Even Hitchcock couldn't have seen that coming.

The cinematic equivalent of nervously laughing through the despair of it all. Parasite is one of the most deeply uncomfortable & disgusting films I've ever had the pleasure of coming across. Because it's actually happening in front of our eyes. Life was never an even playing field, and in our rigged capitalist system where the world's top 1% owns and controls more wealth than the bottom 95%, personal aspiration and social mobility are more futile than they ever were.

One of my all-time favorites, and it will stay that way until the day I die. Flawless filmmaking. I wouldn't miss a chance to watch it on the big screen again at any given moment.

Watched on Monday May 12, 2025.

WITCH!!

On the one hand, Suspiria has a killer atmosphere, the lighting is immaculate, & everything's elevated—the thunderous score, the stylish set pieces, the emotional & sensory immersion, the theatricality of its violence, etc. Also, somebody has a psychosexual relationship with the primary colors, and after watching this, I totally understand. It's a cinematic exercise of style over substance, intentionally jettisoning character development in favor of aesthetics and audiovisual assault. It's intrusively surreal, and I probably muttered "what the fuck is going on?" under my breath at least ten times...in a good way.

On the other hand, the plot is thin, the internal logic of the film is a bit vague, & the acting isn't that terrific to watch. Plus, the dialogue is stiff; outright wooden at worst, which is mostly at fault due to the post-production dubbing that Italy was still doing at the time. The characters, even Suzy to some degree, feel more like narrative pawns than actual people.

Add those two hands, and you have one of the major cult horror films of all time with a few weaknesses. Whatever, it's still an unquestionably iconic classic. And much like the previous one, and I can't emphasize this enough, it's COOL AS FUCK. I personally didn't enjoy it as much as Deep Red though. Maybe my expectations were too high? idk :/

Also, if you thought those snores were creepy, you should come and hear my dad snoring.

Well, that was certainly my type of shit.

Murder as choreography. Not simply a slasher film, but a prog-rock symphony of stylized violence. The godfather of giallo builds a brilliantly suspenseful & effortlessly cool horror atmosphere with an expressionist color scheme (w/ dominating 'deep reds', obviously), a fashionable mise-en-scène, & voyeuristic, unnerving tracking shots that got me acting unwise.

One of the most crucial keys to solving the nightmarish puzzle that is Deep Red is hidden in plain sight, which is a line Carlo utters in the beginning: "You think you're telling the truth, but in fact, you're telling only your version of the truth.". This thesis statement ties into the mastery of how the film explores its central themes: perceptual subjectivity & the illusory nature of truth. It's a film where the revelation isn't who the murderer is, but instead revolves around the questions: "What does our protagonist fail to notice?" or "What was even 'real' in the first place?". Because in Deep Red, truth is never clean-cut or impartial; it's mostly filtered through psychological aspects like repression or fear. This very idea is ed by Luigi Kuveiller's striking cinematography and the implementation of the subjective camera, which makes the camera itself both a narrative device & an active observer of violence. A visually intricate, thought-provoking, & exhilarating experience to immerse yourself in.

"That's why they call it the American Dream, because you have to be asleep to believe it." ⸻ George Carlin

"I can always tell when adults are about to cry."

Oh, yeah? Well then, you could probably tell right now.

Sean Baker fucking cooked with this one. The 400 Blows in 2017 Florida. An uncomfortable, candy-coated glimpse at poverty & child neglect on the outskirts of the happiest place on Earth. Moonee, her mother Halley, and her two friends live in the Magic Castle Inn & Suites, a $35-a-night budget motel existing in the shadows of the largest fantasy land in the world. It’s home to people who are on the brink of homelessness, which makes it a fragile and perilous ecosystem for an innocent child to grow up. A fairy tale right next to systemic oversight. It really reminded me of the time I visited Vegas for the first time in my life and saw a ton of junkies in the five days I was there, just lying on the Strip, one of the most ostentatious & artificial places in the world. Sometimes, bliss(ful ignorance) and despair are separated only by a few miles, even a few blocks—I mean, look at LA's Skid Row, for instance. What's impressive about The Florida Project is that it quietly observes & critiques this dark reality without a single drop of exploitation or disrespect, which makes the contrast between entertainment and lived desperation all the more harsh. Also, if a young child lead actor gives out a more remarkable and equally devastating performance than most Hollywood actors...what more do you even need?

I’m gonna think about the last 15 minutes of this film for a very, very long time. With a ionate director like Sean Baker, indie filmmaking is in good, steady hands.

On a less serious note, I need to add the term "ratchet-ass bitch" into my vernacular. (...It sounds fun.) If I ever get into a verbal altercation with a six-year-old—no, thank you—and the kid calls me a ratchet bitch, I’d probably be gagged.

White man gets high while watching a Satyajit Ray film once and thinks to himself: 'Wow, this is so exotic... Hey, what if I decided to make a film that reduces the entire nation of India, a country with a population of over 1.4 billion people and has a rich, vibrant culture, into a glorified backdrop for a story about three shitty-ass brothers reconciling with each other?' You really thought it was a good idea to borrow the visual iconographies of Indian culture and strip them of historical value or specificity, for the 'aesthetic'? It's giving cultural appropriation tbh. It's giving negligently perpetuating Orientalist practices (yep, I'm bringing Edward Said into this shit). Anderson is actively "devoicing" the Indian people by not even providing subtitles for his mostly Western audience. He probably considers the Hindi language to be background noise at this point. Also, what is the point of Rita? She just serves as a hypersexualized 'device' for Jack to get his dick wet. Common Orientalist trope. I can understand that The Darjeeling Limited sort of satirizes the whole stereotypical "rich white ppl travel to India for a 'spiritual' journey" idea, but artistic intent does not absolve the artist from ability. I'm not of Indian heritage, so I'm not going to take this any further.

Plus, why even cast Bill Murray if he's only in the film for, like, two minutes?

The last six minutes of this film are genuinely the most profoundly beautiful moments in any HSS work ever. Cinema becomes life before our very own eyes. Is the 'novelist’s film' within The Novelist’s Film even a film? Is it fiction, as Jun-hee classifies it? Or was this all a dream? We don't know.

"Franz thinks of everything and nothing. He wonders if the world is becoming a dream or if the dream is becoming the world."

Band of Outsiders or: what watching Nicholas Ray films does to a bored mf.

Alice in Wonderland meets Franz Kafka. Godard's words, not mine. There’s no doubt in my mind when I state that this is his most accessible & forthright film yet. Godard's cheeky response to Jules and Jim is a heist film featuring three young adults not wanting to commit to anything, not even the actual heist itself. It filters a typical Hollywood gangster film like White Heat through the lens of Nouvelle Vague aesthetics while still utilizing the genre tropes. The result is a ruminative crime drama that's more about people who've watched crime drama films and are trying to live inside that fantasy. For what? Because they have nothing particular to do? Ironic, but it's effortlessly cool. The dance scene is undeniably iconic and the "minute of silence" (...more like 36 seconds) is so fucking clever.

"Where'd you come from? You look pregnant."
"I am pregnant. I'm not even going to ask what you men are doing out here in your matching pajamas, by the way."

Anderson's self-aware & comical maritime adventure is Moby-Dick set in Dunder Mifflin. Well, it is actually set onboard a beautiful old long-range sub hunter named "The Belafonte" that goes through a ton of shit throughout the film. The "white whale" that Zissou (and his crew, unfortunately) is desperately seeking is an elusive "jaguar shark" that he exacts revenge upon, that is, to hunt down the thing and kill it. What Zissou doesn't know—or, he already has been aware from the get-go—is that the real "whale" is his own irrelevance. It's a two-thirds-life crisis disguised as an idiosyncratic 'came'-of-age story, leaning hard into the irony of someone trying to grow up in the twilight of their existence. And he has to accept that his carefully constructed image is gradually showing its cracks.

Even a lesser Anderson film has more personality, nuance, & grit than your average Marvel film. The man made me hold back tears over an animated shark, fuck me. Next stop, The Darjeeling Limited.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a terribly attractive woman."

You know what they say: third time's the charm.

Road to The Phoenician Scheme. My third Anderson watch, following The Grand Budapest Hotel & Fantastic Mr. Fox. The postmodernist auteur's first film of the century is a quirky, sepia-toned tableau of arrested development—no, not the TV series—in the form of a literary ensemble, rather than a plot-driven family drama. The film's humorous elements are often coupled with irony and stylized detachment (reminds me of Östlund films), creating a framework where the abrupt tonal shift from borderline absurdist comedy to deep melancholy s with unexpected poignancy to the audience. In one scene, it's disorderly; in another, sentimental—like Nico's haunting vocals on "These Days". Yet, the structural chaos is controlled within the Wes Anderson signature shot composition, making the film feel formulaic and oddly sincere at the same time. The portrayal of familial dysfunction in the film also persuasively explains how people (in this case, the three Tenenbaums & Royal) create personas to avoid vulnerable situations. It's the way these "guises" slowly but surely unravel is what makes The Royal Tenenbaums so graceful & intimate.

The bathroom scene, and then "Needle in the Hay" just bleeding through the slow cuts in-between...I mean, I knew The Fire Within (I haven't watched that film; in fact, I haven't watched any of Louis Malle's films, which I probably should) was an inspiration for this film, but I feel like that scene came out of left field. It's so incredibly painfully real, and it specifically hits hard because the whole thing just feels off. It also casts a dark shadow that continues throughout the third act, so that too, I guess. I should probably stop writing, because I literally have nothing to offer on the subject.

Watched on Saturday May 3, 2025.

"I must say, for a charming, intelligent girl, you've certainly surrounded yourself with a remarkable collection of dopes."

Much like Hitchcock's first American project (Rebecca), Otto Preminger's beloved film noir Laura isn't all about Laura. Surprise! Instead, its plot revolves around how three different men and interpret the titular character differently, which closely resembles Citizen Kane's narrative structure. It's not a harsh noir like The Big Sleep, nor is it a candid melodrama like All That Heaven Allows; rather, it's a hybrid of the two with the delicacy and poise reminiscent of other films that deal with the theme of love warped into obsession (Decision to Leave). In the film, love doesn't simply equal true romance, but is entwined with possessiveness & fear. As a result, the film lingers less as a straightforward, classic murder mystery and more as a hypnotic exploration of the dangerous nature of projection.

Additionally, the script is sharp, the leads are amazingly well-written, & it overall has the intoxicating noir atmosphere steeped in fatalistic allure, which I enjoy. I know those same things could also be said for Double Indemnity, and while I still favor that film over Laura, there's no denying that this had me on the edge of my seat for the second half. I particularly loved how the mise-en-scène progressively narrows and tightens its grip on the audience, mirroring the shadiness and tension the film carries.

"Unuuusually and exceeeeedingly pecuuuuliar and altogether quite impoooossible to describeeeee."
*deadpan* "Blonde."

It was either this or rewatching All That Jazz yesterday. I decided to finally watch this 160-minute-long half-film of a revisionist take on the Land of Oz's history, (roughly) five months after the hype. After witnessing all of the positive reviews & Oscar buzz over this film, I certainly didn't expect to see an unpleasantly desaturated, ultra-glossy, visually smothered, and overstretched story of Cynthia Erivo & a woman who modifies her race every year to fit the "aesthetic" slowly building a relationship with each other. I get the reasoning behind it, but have the producers of Wicked never watched La La Land or Moulin Rouge!? I'm serious, have they never heard of the word 'technicolor'? Moreover, the backlighting looks bad—like real bad, especially the "Dancing Through Life" circular library sequence...horrible, right-in-your-face lighting that ruins the whole experience.

The iconic musical renditions were wickedly good ("What Is This Feeling?"—electric) and yes, I did have a full body vibration throughout "Defying Gravity". My god, what an incredible vocalist. Then again, what's the point of all that if part one of your two-part film is longer than the entire Broadway play (including the intermission, mind you) and covered in that ugly CGI digital sheen that Disney specializes in? ISTG, part two is gonna be longer than Endgame at this point.

Watched on Thursday May 1, 2025.

"I do think that Martha and I have the right to our own little secrets."

God forbid sisters have hobbies.

The film opens with a scene where the Brooklyn Dodgers win a baseball game on Halloween, approximately a month after the season ends, possibly to playfully suggest that the only time the team could win is on Halloween (the Dodgers irl won the NL pennant in '41, their first in 21 years...and went on to lose the World Series to the Yankees; that sucks). After that, we have a certified Capra black comedy classic with too many quotable lines to count, about 200 moving parts, a puss that looks like Boris Karloff, a recurring Teddy Roosevelt bit that somehow gets funnier every time ("CHAAAAARGE!!!"), & most importantly, Cary Grant spiraling and practically breaking the fourth wall in sheer mania on our hands for the next two hours. It's like if Bringing Up Baby was locked in a Brooklyn house, but instead of a leopard, it features two charming aunts who have some skeletons in their closet... I mean, cellar. Under normal circumstances, Arsenic and Old Lace should certainly feel claustrophobic & unhinged, but the set pieces are so tightly constructed that the screwball elements just keep building on one another, though it feels almost too madcap every now and then.

I'll have what Capra's smoking. I was a bit familiar with the original play the film is based on, but this was fucking incredible. Pair the experience with a few glasses of wine, preferably elderberry.

As one of the more well-known revisionist Westerns, High Noon effectively builds its tension around the notion of collective action presented in traditional Western fashion by its real-time structure & the protagonist's moral claustrophobia...before it relieves that same pressure to deliver a psychological & political allegory instead. It's a Western that is closer to 12 Angry Men than it is to Rio Bravo, and there's an argument to be made that this film isn't even a Western in the first place. What Zinnemann does here is compress an epic Western into a moral crucible, which makes the already short film dialogue-heavy & tonally restrained. Also, other than Will Kane and his pacifist wife, Amy (it's nice to see Grace Kelly outside of a Hitchcock), the ing characters seem to serve symbolic purposes more than actually act like 'real' people. At the end of the day, I would rather watch The Searchers or the Sergio Leone Dollars trilogy (or the aforementioned Howard Hawks classic) for a more emotionally satisfying experience.

Watched on Tuesday April 29, 2025.

"I love you, Laura. I shall love you always until the end of my life. I can't look at you now because I know something. I know that this is the beginning of the end. Not the end of my loving you but the end of our being together."

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

An ordinary railway station, guilt, & inhibited desires. David Lean makes magic happen by crafting a simple yet emotionally potent narrative of two people and two trains going opposite directions. An unconsummated, ill-fated affair in a series of routine Thursdays that inevitably falls apart. A piece of grit. Afternoons at the theater. Deeply contingent romance that could only happen by ephemeral moments. Watch it with In the Mood for Love as a double feature for twice the emotional pain and to feel like you're in the midst of a beautifully cruel extramarital relationship for three hours straight.

"As Moretti always says, no one is more of a starfucker than the fucking stars."

Huh...that's it? What do you mean your 104-minute-long debut feature film actually starts an hour into the whole thing? You can take a literal 20 minute bathroom break at any time during the first half of this and not miss anything significant to the plot, I can assure you. You know that an A24 cult-horror/psychological thriller (another one of those...smh) that basically rips off the plotlines of Midsommar & The Menu should actually be "thrilling", right? Instead, it seems the producers opted to cram 90 minutes worth of horror material into a half-hour runtime, resulting in unstable pacing throughout & a rushed ending. Furthermore, the structure is predictable, the characters have little to no personality, & the writing is dull. I was considering giving this a 4 on of this being a debut, but how do you even make Ayo Edebiri uninteresting? I watched this solely because of her (& John Malkovich; him air-humping Juliette Lewis was not on my 2025 bingo card, by the way) and I was really disappointed. All in all, a half-baked introduction. Put Edebiri in better made films, she doesn’t deserve this.

"It'll be just like in the movies. We'll pretend to be someone else."

Hey, isn’t this the film Chappell Roan referenced in her song?

First watch, "technically" rewatch since the last time I watched it (or rather, tried to watch it) was when I was 19, didn't know a lot much about film as I do now, & was near-blackout drunk by the end of it, so... Anyway, my encounter basically went like this:

First 15 min: Okay, they're setting up the exposition...no, forget it.
About 16 minutes in: Oh, fuck off.
For the next hour: What the hell is happening??
"Hey, pretty girl, time to wake up."
15 min: Wait, I think I finally got it...nvm, I'm fucking stupid; Lynch got my ass again.
Last 15 min: ??????
Silencio.

I have too many questions, all meant to be left unanswered. To call Mulholland Dr. a nonconforming, stylistically unorthodox film would be a massive understatement. The film follows a nonchronological, indecipherable, & quite disorienting narrative structure about the collapse of the American dream of stardom into a living nightmare. In this vein, it then becomes a bifurcated, anti-Hollywood film about the illusory nature of Tinseltown. After the well-known Winkie's diner scene, Lynch gives the audience no explanation of anything that is happening throughout the entire film. Where did all of these characters come from? What does Club Silencio have to do with all of this? Why is Hannah Montana's (nepo-)dad in this film? Who, or actually, what is The Cowboy? What's up with the blue box? It becomes obvious, to a greater extent, that Lynch is deliberately refusing to answer any of these questions; he's not a filmmaker who simply gives out clues to the audience in favor of a clear resolution.

The thing is, although Mulholland Dr. regards itself as a surrealistic neo-noir love story, it does somewhat have the earmarks of a conventional movie. There is actual continuity to the plotline, there are enigma codes, Betty & Rita's relationship strangely makes sense in the grand scheme of things, etc. However, even after following all of these filmmaking rules, it's the way Lynch arranges and develops his narrative that ultimately confuses the audience. Ten people will watch this film and offer ten different solutions. And maybe that's the reason why irers of Lynch's work keep coming back to Mulholland Dr. over and over.

*alarm rings*

"That was the last sunrise I ever saw. Perhaps the kindest thing the dark gift has given me."

A hot new bombshell enters the juke t.

We won. More importantly, Ryan Coogler wins again, only this time it's major. I have a tendency to watch movies after the initial hype dies down, but after I saw the trailer last September, I couldn't help myself. Sinners is a highly ambitious & daunting 2hr+ long film that blends four major genres (music/southern gothic/vampire/supernatural horror) into a visually & stylistic intense from-dusk-till-dawn showdown...on steroids & a little bit of LSD. There's a good reason behind why early Carpenter films—Assault on Precinct 13 & Halloween—are just over 90 minutes long (mainly since even a supernatural horror/thriller film kinda loses its audience when its runtime is more than 2 hours), but I was pleasantly surprised to see Coogler had utilized that extra runtime to immerse the audience in that '30s southern atmosphere with a fantastic opening act. The absolute highlight of the show—the 'summoning spirits' scene—genuinely made me tear up. For a brief moment, I thought I was floating above my seat. Mindblowing surreal shit. 'Holy shit, this is actually happening'-type shit. That scene alone paid me back my ticket price, and more tbh. It really made me think more ppl should be shooting movies in film format (I wouldn't necessarily say that film is superior to shooting digitally, because of examples like The Holdovers or Blade Runner 2049—both of which were filmed on Arri Alexa cameras (!!), if you can believe it).

Huge W for Coogler striking that deal for the ownership of the film after 25yrs (if you ask me, Warner Bros should just go and suck their own fucking balls). Major props for cinematography magician Autumn Durald Arkapaw as well for being the first woman DP to shoot a feature-length film in IMAX format. Watched two interview pieces right after the film and I just love to see people in the industry who are actually creative & ionate about their craft. As for the actual material on hand, the chemistry between Jordan and Jordan was splendid & Wunmi Mosaku's performance was phenomenal. Sinners convinced me, yet again, that the director is well-versed in providing symbolism (but imo it didn't need to show the audience those flashbacks). Also, Hailee Steinfeld, my mouth is already open...just throwing that out there.

An extremely strong contender for my film of the year. It would also be lovely to see some Oscar noms for Coogler, Arkapaw, Ludwig Göransson, and the editing team next year.

"I mean, if you think of yourself as funny, you become tragic."

pros: you get to see Gena Rowlands' gorgeous features & striking facial expressions up close
cons: you also get to see (and endure) men who either manhandle Minnie or speak in aimless non sequiturs up close

Cassavetes' screwball comedy film before his magnum opus. Too bad the male characters are so fucking exhausting to watch. That beautiful mustache, though...

"I ate him right the fuck up. And it felt fucking great."

Oh, that's not– I think our definition of the word 'ate' differs slightly...

Raw, as a wistful romantic road movie that's akin to Call Me by Your Name's delicate portrayal of forbidden and/or complicated love. Absolutely stunning golden hour cinematography, Guadagnino's signature sensual attentiveness towards his characters (which is the reason why Challengers feels so sexually arousing & deeply intimate without a single sex scene in it; because a simple glance, or even a tennis stroke, means a lot in the director's eyes), & Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross's atmospheric score were some of the highlights for me (I was not expecting the Joy Division needledrop btw—phenomenal choice). The film's examination of internal horror & familial trauma through an obsessive and dangerous individual like Sully was nice to see as well. As an observer, Sully is so unsettling because he symbolizes the loneliness and perverse attachment that Maren fears might exist within herself. And that reshapes the emotional tone of the film to an extent.

Despite that, the pacing is inconsistent: the second act feels a bit disted, and the ending (as well as the climax) seems rushed. The dialogue feels off at times as well, and it was honestly visually tame for an impactful & gory cannibal film. If Bones and All had maintained the structured tension-building of the first act, it would have been a much better film. (Come to think of it, it's interesting to consider how a filmmaker like Lanthimos would approach the first act—probably with sterile & detached framing.) It's an overall heartfelt film, but I wished it had the crescendo that made CMBYN so affecting in the end.

"Now watch closely, everyone. I'm going to show you how to kill a god."

Once upon a time, there was an abandoned human girl raised by wolves…

There is a point in the film where Princess Mononoke no longer feels like a work of fantasy animation and instead gives off the aura of a nuanced & lofty jidaigeki epic, like Harakiri or even Seven Samurai. That pivotal 'point' might differ from person to person; mine was the scene early on where Ashitaka directly converses with Lady Eboshi (authoritative & ambitious—feels like a Kurosawa character istg). The immense scale of this monumental film—the sweeping landscapes, the moral ambiguity of the characters, the solemn, weighty tone, the way Miyazaki cautiously navigates themes of ecological & cultural conflicts—was felt with every fiber of my body. The natural world presented to the audience is so incredibly vast, yet it doesn't feel distant at all. The dialogue is masterful, the hand-drawn animation is ridiculously meticulous (yeah, no wonder he's a perfectionist), & Joe Hisaishi's score actually sent chills down my spine. This is the film the director always intended to make, and he hit the nail on the head so hard that it transcended the medium entirely. Majestic masterpiece that left me shaken to my core.

"I thought I saw Satsuki and Mei smiling at us from up in that tree."

Third time watching this wonderful Ghibli classic, first time as an adult. Had a chance to watch it on the big screen this time around w/ Princess Mononoke back-to-back.

Delightfully adorable. My Neighbor Totoro is a whimsical, heartwarming, & soul-healing film that shows the audience the more playful side of Miyazaki. I would even argue this is the legendary director at his most free-spirited. It's the cinematic equivalent of being in a cozy blanket on a sunny Saturday afternoon: pleasant & filled with warmth. The way it leans into the charm and spontaneity of childhood without ever indulging its audience or overstaying its welcome is so comforting to see. The Satsuki & Mei duo exudes a type of infectious joy that makes the weeks of everyone watching a little bit better and Totoro has a calming presence without him needing to say a single word (like my cats 🤍🖤). While I was watching this, I could feel that Miyazaki genuinely loves observing how children connect with the world around them, which ties into his penchant for young protagonists—Nausicaä in Nausicaä, Chihiro in Spirited Away, and more recently, Mahito in TBATH—who are comionate, attentive, and most of all, cute (jk; more like 'pure').

IMO structurally & thematically weakest work out of the Big 4, but it's one of the most beautiful family-friendly films of all time. It only gets better from here, and the bar is already massively high. (Wait, does that make Totoro the Beggars Banquet of the Miyazaki pantheon? I'll take it.)

Two days ago, I woke up and chose the orange fucker from Inside Out 2 to take over the control console that day. So naturally, I decided to watch this in the early afternoon. Over two cups of coffee. Had an absolute blast.

First of all, everyone in this film (and me) needs to take a Xanax or an indica gummy (honestly, both) and chill the fuck out. The Safdie Brothers' gritty, emotionally jagged, & borderline-nihilistic neo(n)-noir that channels the '70s crime thriller/drama energy is not your average 'night gone wrong' story. It's an adrenaline-soaked, volatile nightmare that is deeply wired into an impulsive & manipulative individual's psyche. (Replace the last two adjectives with the words 'egotistical' and 'delusional', and you literally get Uncut Gems in a nutshell.) Good Time is both a calamitous character study & a profoundly lonely film about a man who is terrified of losing the only real connection he has in the world and fearfully justifies his adverse actions accordingly.

The way the brothers amplify tension is very compelling, because they sort of trap the audience in Connie's spiraling headspace, heartbeat racing along with his and the synths on OPN's haunting score. So, is Connie an inherently relatable character? Hell no. The guy is a total pos, based on some of the things he does throughout his descent into madness (that scene really rubbed me the wrong way btw—I needed to skip forward about a minute and a half). However, he's painfully real in the sense that he’s continuously trying to prove to himself he’s not a failure. His coping mechanism is to run away from the eventual fallout of his decisions; literally and figuratively. And that recklessness & hopelessness is what makes this experience so devastating and sad. Because he doesn't know exactly when to stop.

The pacing seems to hesitate for a bit during the second act, and Benny Safdie’s portrayal of Nick, Connie’s developmentally disabled brother, is questionable, and exploitative at worst. Not to mention the racial aspect of the whole thing. Still, it's such a confident piece of work, radiating chaos & emotional escalation in an anxiety-inducing way. It could have raised the ante slightly more, though. (It's a good thing that a film like Uncut Gems exists then.)

I need to watch Heaven Knows What real soon. Or whenever the orange girl in my head feels like it.

power, revelations, and therapy sessions

or in layman's : haha, what the actual fuck

How do you make a film all about sex, desire, & emotional intimacy without a single imagery of sex, desire, & emotional intimacy? How do you make a horny erotic drama where nothing happens, and yet everything happens? How do you write a screenplay that is so tangible and material, but whenever I try to touch on it, it feels downright abstract? How??? (And why is James Spader so creepily sexy? I need to process that in my own time.)

Sex as a means of control. Sexuality as a repository of secrets. The camera as a Foucaultian apparatus (or dispositif) of normalization, with a deceptive nature at its core. Just like the "hidden" camera's purpose in Caché, the film doesn't approve of the audience being a ive viewer. The deeper I was into the Venus flytrap that is sex, lies, and videotape, the more I felt inappropriate even watching it. In fact, I really thought I shouldn't be watching this at the moment, because the entire film feels like I'm eavesdropping on something way too private and personal. It's dripping with psychosexual drama, but it's as if the film took the 'sex' part and condensed it into its basic components, leaving just the messy side of being perceived and trying to see yourself. And it somehow works. In a weird, languorous way, yes, but it still works. It's more of a character dismemberment than an exploration, though.

It also has one of the most mesmerizing & serene endings I've ever seen. One big mind trip. At least, we now know that very mind trip redefined American independent cinema. [insert obligatory ‘this won the Palme d’Or?!’ comment here]

"I will. And I'm sure Kiki will want to know the lady's birthday, so she'll be able to give her a present."

Goddamn it, who's cutting onions in my room again? *realizes that I'm alone*

Finally, some top-shelf Ghibli representation for 13-year-old witches with a talking black cat who just wanna make ends meet. Or for the people who want to be one, like me. Despite its rather simplistic plot, Kiki teaches us profound lessons about the importance of finding the spark that is always within you, how to navigate feelings of uncertainty and self-doubt, & what it really means to be independent. It tells you, more often than not, being independent doesn't necessarily mean being alone; it's okay to lean on others and accept help when needed.

What differentiates Kiki's Delivery Service from other coming-of-age films that deal with similar messages though, is its minimalist approach and emphasis on small personal transformations. Those aspects and the scenes where Kiki is unaccompanied—her walking through the city to deliver a package addressed to Tombo or her lying on her bed—really reminded me of the evocative way equally accomplished filmmakers like Ozu or Kore-eda adopt the so-called "pillow shot", which serve not as to fill in empty space, but as devices for adding emotional texture. They also invite the audience to feel rather than be told what to expect. Thus, this becomes less a film about urban low fantasy & flying broomsticks and more about subtle maturity & finding one's sense of identity. Life changes, and that sucks. But the thing is, we can move on. It's a beautiful, magnificent thing when a film can feel this deeply intimate & human, let alone an animation from more than 35 years ago. Color me impressed.

So, thank you, Kiki, for your optimism and wisdom. Thank you, Ursula, for softly guiding me on how to take a step back and disconnect once in a while. Thank you, Jiji, for making me cry happily. And most of all, thank you, Miyazaki, for making this all happen.

My only wish is that the film was two hours longer. Or eight. I love this so so much.

"But for now, I think that you'll find a little S&M will be necessary to trigger off a good healthy series of hallucinations."

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me. And my TV, apparently.

First Cronenberg watch. Shit (& the seductress Nicki Brand) got too deep under my skin. It's so incredibly ahead of its time; it's the cinematic equivalent of Talking Heads' Fear of Music: both paranoid & pulsating with anxious innovation. Videodrome basically predicted the world we're currently in, where identity is broadcast, consumed, curated by the great algorithm, and the screens are more than just reality. People, including myself, willingly give themselves over to digital media their time, their attention, their privacy. In return, we get the false illusion of control, connection, & endless entertainment. Ad infinitum. Even more relevant 42 years later.

Try not to blink, because this is where we're headed. Personally, I think we're already in it. Welcome to the new flesh.

"Each morning, to earn my bread, I go to the market where lies are sold and, full of hope, I line up alongside the other vendors."

Ok…you're telling me that Godard's attempt at a big-budget, "Hollywood" production is an ironic, self-referential film that a) is all about the process of filmmaking and b) is very well aware of its film-within-a-film setup? And he cast Fritz Lang, one of his directorial influences, as himself as he quotes Bertolt Brecht in a technicolor, widescreen CinemaScope frame? And there's more? Ffs, there's no way he needs to go that hard—

Filming the death of cinematic romanticism as he’s celebrating it in the same breath. In real time. The infamous second act—the extended, claustrophobic apartment scene that is over half an hour long—is peak Brechtian distanciation. I'm bored out of my mind, the actors seem bored, even the fucking camera is bored. Yap yap yap, whatever. But that tediousness is what makes it so brilliant. Very La Notte. More formal, though. I loved how much it frustrated me.

"Leave your worries for awhile, they’ll still be there when you get back. And your memories aren't invited."

Terribly underappreciated. Well, PTA's films are always underrated in the grand scheme of things (opposite of that is Christopher Nolan's work), but still this is so exceptionally done.

I'm speechless. I don't know where to start, what to even say with this. At least TWBB was a captivating romantic comedy between one of the most memorable anti-heroes/villains ever put on screen (pre-Breaking Bad) & American toxic masculinity, but this? There's this unsolvable, weird undercurrent of emotional intimacy, control dynamics, & interpersonal connection that I can’t possibly put my finger on. The film shouldn't be about the matter of "what is PTA attempting to say?", or "who the fuck is 'The Master'?", but what you should be asking is "what is Freddie and Lancaster *not* saying, or failing to say to each other?" That ambiguous gap (& ensuing silence) is where the beauty of this film lies. There's a certain quality of mesmerizing tenderness in The Master, that the audience wouldn't get out of Daniel & Eli's volatile, prickly relationship. And I cherished every second of it. You know what? Maybe the Master is PTA himself. (Does that make me Freddie then?)

Plus, pitch-perfect casting. Joaquin Phoenix delivers the best performance of his career & PSH is legitimately one of the most gifted actors of this generation. Amy Adams completes the triangle with understated intensity, becoming both the spine and the gatekeeper of "The Cause". Can't wait to watch this film over and over again.

"A girl just fell from the sky, boss!"

The scene where Pazu plays his trumpet on the roof of his house, you can also hear the entire animation industry change—forever.

ittedly (and sadly enough), I didn't have as much fun as the two previous Miyazaki films with this one. Yes, it's true that Laputa skillfully plants the seeds for what would later become the studio's signature style—the relationship between nature and humanity, the corrupting influence of power and knowledge, child protagonists as moral anchors—and the setpieces are more dynamic & three-dimensional (especially the aerial action scenes; fucking amazing). On the other hand, the main characters are slightly dull—compared to the cunning Lupin or the emotionally rich Nausicaä, the steampunk setting lacks thematic depth, & the pacing slumps for a little while during the second act. To be honest, I was more fond of the ing characters than the two extremely likable leads. Colonel Muska as a coldly charismatic & calculating villain is so gripping to watch unfold (why give them 3 minutes...this guy) & Dola and her pirate crew totally steal the show, switching from adversaries to alluring allies. (*That* particular scene aged like milk, though.) Not to mention Uncle Pom, who acts as an antithesis of Muska and symbolizes wisdom & the significance of oral tradition.

Despite those shortcomings, the worldbuilding is beautifully ambitious (the industrial revolution thing is very proto-Howl's Moving Castle and I love it) and the overall mythical symbolism lends itself well to a cautionary parable about hubris and arrogance. I'm already looking forward to Miyazaki strengthening and enriching his attention-to-detail animation in his later work.

"Harry locked his mother in the closet."

What ozempic & heroin does to desperate, psychologically isolated mfs: the movie.

There is a foundational problem regarding Darren Aronofsky’s sophomore film that somewhat irks me. Requiem for a Dream positions itself as a profound, disconcerting, & overwhelming psychological drama/horror (which it is, dgmw), but its actual structure and tone more closely resemble a moral spectacle or rather a farcical anti-drug PSA. What Aronofsky is doing here is him just beating and near-torturing his characters into submission. Their arcs don’t plausibly evolve from flawed decisions but feel preordained, like they're trapped on a hellish conveyor belt toward self-annihilation. And if the goal of the film were to convey "don't do drugs, kids, and more importantly, don't even think about doing them", then it is reductive. If the point was deeper, then it got lost beneath all the graphic, dreamlike imagery and the stylistic editing choices that made me think my laptop was broken—for a second, at least. This sort of amplified, almost antiseptic depiction of tragedy was originally my gripe with Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance as well. That aspect makes the film powerful & fatalistic, yes, but it simultaneously runs the risk of flattening nuance to a considerable degree.

As much as it is common knowledge at this point, the Perfect Blue comparison is imperative to understanding the narrative behind this film (not to mention Marion's bathtub scene is a shot-for-shot recreation of a particular scene in Satoshi Kon's film). Without giving out spoilers, what works for Perfect Blue and what doesn't for Requiem is that the psychological horror in the former is existential, while the latter is based on rapid-fire vfx & one hell of a devastating score. It also gives its female lead, Mima, more mental leeway compared to Requiem's characters, which makes her eventual deterioration into insanity disturbingly personal & nightmarish (literally).

Having said that, here are some things I liked about the film. (I wouldn't necessarily use the word 'enjoy' instead of 'like', because this is very far from being an enjoyable & pleasant watching experience—in fact, it's the opposite.) I loved the film's portrayal of each of the four leads pursuing an idealized & polished version of "The American Dream" in their own destructive ways, to no avail and mercy. The way Requiem explicates how substance dependency erodes self-worth, bodily autonomy, communication, & relationships is effective and heartbreaking to watch—though it feels a bit excessive at times. Or maybe, conveying empathy through excess is the fucking point. Moreover, the split screen techniques throughout persuasively highlight the overall theme of fragmentation & the lack of unity—most notably in the scene where Harry and Marion are intimate with each other, but are filmed separate physically. Last but not least, Ellen Burstyn...I can't even put it into words. I listened to Aronofsky's commentary on Requiem and he expresses his iration for the actress multiple times, even mentioning the time when Hubert Selby Jr., the author who wrote the book, was brought into set and he lasted 10 minutes before breaking into tears because of Burstyn’s performance. (I'd definitely recommend checking his commentary out if you have about 100 minutes of free time, and you want to spend that free time listening to a man with a Brooklyn accent go over the technical aspects of a 25-year-old film) It's like seeing magic for the first time, watching her absorb and completely "become" Sara. The confession monologue was seriously one of the hardest scenes to sit through, and I simply had to stop the movie to catch my breath after that. Emotionally draining experience. To be fair, the film (& the book it is based on) is constructed to be pessimistic so I got what I asked for, I guess.

Watched on Saturday April 12, 2025.

"I called you because I wanted you to be present."

The story begins on October 17th, 1961, the day of the Paris Massacre.

Fast-forward a bit. I’ll start again. Caché is a Brechtian puzzle enclosed in a mystery box so hidden that even the pieces don't make sense. The box might be imaginary, for all I know. So, what is the film even about? It is a tricky & intricate film about repressed guilt, the fallibility of bourgeois identity, 's colonial past, complicity, privacy—all of that. It is a film where the central mystery is *entirely* a Hitchcockian MacGuffin (think Rear Window, if Rear Window made you look at a mirror afterwards and your reflection keeps asking you questions). And even if it were resolved, there's nothing to be done. Why? Because a) it's an impossible option, and b) Haneke is going to stare at you intently and tear down your expectations regardless.

What genuinely unnerved me after watching this film was my gradual realization that Haneke really treats his scenes like how a surgeon methodically dissects their patients. Every cut, every frame, hell, every silence is precisely controlled to show the audience exactly what they need to see. Not a gram more or less. After all the interviews of him I've watched, I honestly still can't believe that Haneke is actually a living, breathing human being. And that terrifies me. That is the shit that keeps me up at night.

Alright, perfect. You can stop the tape recorder now.

"Are you crying?"
"Yes, I'm so happy."

Me too, Nausicaä. Me too.

Seriously though, why is this considered to be one of the weakest, if not the weakest Miyazaki? To give the benefit of the doubt, Miyazaki's Big 4 (Totoro-Kiki-Mononoke-Spirited Away-some would add Howl after this) did something for the entire genre of animation what Hitchcock's Big 4 (1954-1960; sorry Dial M) did for anticipation...and the male gaze, & what PTA's Big 4 (1997-2007) did for raw emotional expression. In that regard, it's actually a lesser Miyazaki film, sure. However, it's also really underrated within the Ghibli discourse, mainly because it technically precedes the conception of the studio. There are several improvements to Lupin: the animation style is more polished, the post-apocalyptic world-building is definitely more ambitious, & the characters are more fleshed out.

A lot of ppl compare this to Dune (the book) or Princess Mononoke—obvious choice, given the fact the film acts as a spiritual successor to the environmental themes explored in this one, but I would propose that it's closer to BJH's framework of exploitation vs coexistence for Mickey 17, even Okja. In Nausicaä, the Sea of Decay and its insect guardians aren’t innately evil—they’re a natural reaction to human ecocide (The Seven Days of Fire), a form of environmental defense. The dominant cultures want to destroy or control the sea, while Nausicaä chooses to coexist with it by understanding its purpose. Sounds familiar? Mickey 17 plays with that same idea while focusing more on the commodification of human life & what truly makes up a person. Whereas Nausicaä attends to the pacifist ethos of its titular lead, critiquing how belligerent approaches perpetuate violence under the guise of salvation. What the two films both suggest is that this "coexistence" isn't ive—it requires determination when faced with dehumanizing systems and a willingness to yield power for something more sustainable in the long run. Miyazaki wins.

Also, as much as this is self-evident, Joe Hisaishi is the GOAT. His scores are to Miyazaki films what peanut butter is to jelly, what George Martin was to The Beatles, what Eno was to Bowie. I already know I'm gonna repeat this sentiment many times.

‘Ugliness is a kind of death. As long as I'm beautiful, I'm even more alive than the others.’

Cléo's short story begins at 5pm, the end of an ordinary workday.

This week, I've found myself watching & appreciating two prominent examples of French New Wave/Brechtian cinema—Vivre sa vie and Cléo from 5 to 7—both thoughtfully observing the life of a woman caught in their own existential & societal tensions in a critical, emotionally detached manner. (The former intellectual & stylistically radical, the latter more lyrical, city symphony-like) Which is ironic, because while the techniques the two directors respectively employ are meant to regularly remind the audience that, yes, they're watching a film (I mean, Godard literally outlines what is about to happen at the start of each episode), I personally felt a connection with both Nana and Cléo for different reasons. Nana, for instance, feels more intimate as a character when you see her struggling for control over her dehumanizing situation (reminded me a lot of how Sean Baker paints an authentic picture of Ani). And Cléo, though portrayed in a cold, objective light, becomes sensible in the moments she engages with the world on her own . In a way, I would argue Varda (& ofc Godard) utilizes Brechtian devices not to leave emotion out of the equation, but to recontextualize it. IIRC, even Brecht himself didn't oppose the idea of emotional resonance. (But what do I know? I'm not a theater/film major.) There is a sentimental undertone to Cléo from 5 to 7, which is exactly the film's point because I was aware of *why* I was feeling more than the emotions themselves.

Other than the comparison, here are two aspects of this French New Wave classic that I found particularly worth digging into.

1. Female Gaze: Portrait of a Lady on Fire is one of the most important pieces of media I've had the pleasure of coming across. It is a definitive masterclass in the female gaze, with Sciamma allowing the two characters to see & revere each other fully. 57 years ago, Varda did something similar, but with one. One woman slowly learning to see herself.

Oftentimes in the film, the camera's gaze is Cléo's gaze. The camera becomes Cléo (or is it the other way around?), which represents the female gaze. After Chapter VII (or literally 5:45), there is a subtle cinematic reorientation. The visual style softens & the camera seems to linger more. It's as if the camera consciously decides not to observe but to inhabit the scenes. Extremely sophisticated.

2. Real-Time Storytelling & Poetic Realism: 13 tarot cards, 13 chapters. Like Hitchcock’s clever little experimentation called Rope, Varda opts for real-time storytelling as a key narrative structure. The film tracks Cléo's journey minute-by-minute, like a diary or one of those daily ToDo apps I've used in high school. Why? What better way to capture the transient, fleeting nature of life than to convey it organically? At the same time, poetic realism is interwoven into this framework, saturating the film with melancholy & poignant elegance. Through this, the film quietly invites the audience to engage with how the age of time influences personal identity and vice versa.

Cléo’s short story ends at 6:30pm. She now has a different outlook on life.

Watched on Sunday April 6, 2025.

Watched on Sunday April 6, 2025.

"If you're lucky, you'll experience this once in your lifetime. For me, it happened twice. The first was the day I met Josh. And the second, the day I killed him."

About a third into the movie, I thought this was going to follow the Don't Worry Darling/M3GAN/mid, uncreative Black Mirror episode route (btw, some elements reminded me of Be Right Back or Arkangel), but it turned out to be pretty good. Basically, it's a self-discovery story about a woman who is suddenly faced with the reality of her being in a deeply toxic & misogynistic relationship at the snap of a finger. *blink* Just like that, her life is completely flipped upside down, processing that her significant other isn't who she thought he was. Unfortunately, tale as old as time.

However, I appreciated that Sophie Thatcher molds this emotionally complex & vulnerable character into a role that feels more relatable & alluring. The control dynamics between Iris and Josh were interesting to see as well. A good example is Iris' nickname "Beep Boop". (The fuck kind of a name is that? It's the equivalent of me calling my cats "Meow" instead of their actual names.) It's disrespectful & rudimentary on Josh's end, and I think he intentionally uses this disparaging nickname just to mess with her. All in all, a nice, bloody character study.

On a separate note, I found out yesterday that Thatcher can cry a single tear out of either eye whenever she wants, and I don't know whether this fact about her makes her even more attractive or more terrifying. Good for her, I guess?

…Lights! Camera! Action!

Red and blue and yellow. It's capricious, as if Breathless wasn’t playful enough. A free-spirited postmodernist musical/romantic comedy that dances along the line between self-awareness & felicity. A woman is a woman. Godard is Godard. Anna Karina winks at me. I wink back.

Watchlist

➤ Bottle Rocket (1996)
➤ Rushmore (1998)
➤ The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)
➤ Isle of Dogs (2018)
➤ The French Dispatch (2021)
➤ Asteroid City (2023)

1. Moonrise Kingdom
2. The Royal Tenenbaums
3. Fantastic Mr. Fox
4. The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
5. The Darjeeling Limited

Watchlist

➤ Porco Rosso (1992)
➤ Howl’s Moving Castle (2004)
➤ Ponyo (2008)
➤ The Wind Rises (2013)
➤ The Boy and the Heron (2023)

1. Spirited Away
2. Princess Mononoke
3. Kiki's Delivery Service
4. Lupin the Third: The Castle of Cagliostro
5. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind
6. My Neighbor Totoro
7. Castle in the Sky

Watchlist

➤ A Traveler’s Needs (2024)
➤ By the Stream (2024)
➤ What Does That Nature Say to You (2025)

1. On the Beach at Night Alone
2. Tale of Cinema
3. Right Now, Wrong Then
4. Oki's Movie
5. Hotel by the River
6. The Day He Arrives
7. The Novelist's Film
8. The Power of Kangwon Province
9. Woman on the Beach
10. The Woman Who Ran

...plus 7 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

Watchlist

➤ Alphaville (1965)
➤ Pierrot le Fou (1965)
➤ Masculin Féminin (1966)
➤ La Chinoise (1967)
➤ Weekend (1967)
➤ Here and Elsewhere (1976)
➤ Hail, Sarajevo (1993)
➤ In the Darkness of Time (2002)

1. Vivre Sa Vie
2. Breathless
3. Band of Outsiders
4. Contempt
5. A Woman Is a Woman

According to the Letterboxd Top 250 list, 1957 is the most popular year with 10 entries. So why not?

Watchlist (sorted by director's last name)

➤ Il Grido (dir. Michelangelo Antonioni)
➤ The Incredible Shrinking Man (dir. Jack Arnold)
➤ A King in New York (dir. Charlie Chaplin)
➤ Wild is the Wind (dir. George Cukor)
➤ 3:10 to Yuma (dir. Delmer Daves)
➤ Funny Face (dir. Stanley Donen)
➤ Pyaasa (dir. Guru Dutt)
➤ What's Opera, Doc? (dir. Chuck Jones)
➤ The Lower Depths (dir. Akira Kurosawa)
➤ The Bridge on the River Kwai (dir. David Lean)
➤ Sweet Smell of Success (dir. Alexander Mackendrick)
➤ The Blue Sky Maiden (dir. Yasuzō Masumura)
➤ An Affair to (dir. Leo McCarey)
➤ Deg Woman (dir. Vincente Minnelli)
➤ The Tarnished Angels (dir. Douglas Sirk)
➤ Night of the Demon (dir. Jacques Tourneur)
➤ Le Notti Bianche (dir. Luchino Visconti)
➤ Kanał (dir. Andrzej Wajda)
➤ Love in the Afternoon (dir. Billy Wilder)

1. The Seventh Seal
2. The Cranes Are Flying
3. 12 Angry Men
4. Nights of Cabiria
5. A Face in the Crowd
6. Tokyo Twilight
7. Wild Strawberries
8. Paths of Glory
9. Witness for the Prosecution
10. Throne of Blood

Watchlist

➤ Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (1992)
➤ Inland Empire (2006)

1. Mulholland Drive
2. Blue Velvet
3. Lost Highway
4. Eraserhead
5. The Straight Story
6. The Elephant Man
7. Wild at Heart
8. Dune

Watchlist

➤ Inherent Vice (2014)
➤ Phantom Thread (2017)
➤ Licorice Pizza (2021)

1. The Master
2. There Will Be Blood
3. Punch-Drunk Love
4. Boogie Nights
5. Magnolia
6. Hard Eight

Watchlist

➤ 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance (1994)
➤ The Piano Teacher (2001)
➤ Time of the Wolf (2003)
➤ Funny Games (2007)
➤ The White Ribbon (2009)
➤ Amour (2012)
➤ Happy End (2017)

1. Caché
2. The Seventh Continent
3. Funny Games
4. Benny's Video

Watchlist

➤ The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)
➤ Foreign Correspondent (1940)
➤ Lifeboat (1944)
➤ The Wrong Man (1956)
➤ The Birds (1963)
➤ Frenzy (1972)

1. North by Northwest
2. Rear Window
3. Psycho
4. Vertigo
5. Dial M for Murder
6. Notorious
7. Strangers on a Train
8. Rope
9. Rebecca
10. The Man Who Knew Too Much

...plus 6 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

Watchlist

➤ Good Morning (1959)
➤ Floating Weeds (1959)
➤ An Autumn Afternoon (1962)

1. Tokyo Story
2. Tokyo Twilight
3. Late Spring
4. Early Summer
5. Equinox Flower
6. Early Spring

Watchlist

➤ Roma (1972)
➤ Amarcord (1973)

1. Nights of Cabiria
2. La Dolce Vita
3. 8½
4. Juliet of the Spirits
5. La Strada
6. I Vitelloni

Watchlist

➤ Stalag 17 (1953)
➤ The Seven Year Itch (1955)
➤ One, Two, Three (1961)

1. Sunset Boulevard
2. The Apartment
3. Ace in the Hole
4. Witness for the Prosecution
5. Some Like It Hot
6. Double Indemnity
7. A Foreign Affair
8. The Lost Weekend
9. Sabrina

Watchlist

➤ Summer Interlude (1951)
➤ Shame (1968)
➤ Cries and Whispers (1972)
➤ Scenes from a Marriage (1974)
➤ Face to Face (1976)
➤ Autumn Sonata (1978)
➤ Fanny and Alexander (1982)
➤ Saraband (2003)

1. The Seventh Seal
2. Wild Strawberries
3. Persona
4. Through a Glass Darkly
5. The Silence
6. Winter Light
7. Smiles of a Summer Night
8. The Virgin Spring
9. Summer with Monika

1. Thirst
2. Oldboy
3. Decision to Leave
4. The Handmaiden
5. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance
6. t Security Area
7. Stoker
8. Lady Vengeance
9. I'm a Cyborg, But That's OK
10. Judgement

Watchlist

➤ Barry Lyndon (1975)
➤ Full Metal Jacket (1987)
➤ Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

1. 2001: A Space Odyssey
2. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
3. The Shining
4. A Clockwork Orange
5. Paths of Glory
6. The Killing
7. Lolita
8. Spartacus

Watchlist

➤ Drunken Angel (1948)
➤ Red Beard (1965)
➤ Dersu Uzala (1975)
➤ Kagemusha (1980)
➤ Ran (1985)
➤ Dreams (1990)

1. Seven Samurai
2. High and Low
3. Ikiru
4. Rashomon
5. Yojimbo
6. Throne of Blood
7. The Bad Sleep Well
8. The Hidden Fortress
9. Stray Dog
10. Sanjuro

Watchlist

➤ Okja (2017)

1. Parasite
2. Memories of Murder
3. The Host
4. Mother
5. Snowpiercer

Watchlist

➤ The Good, the Bad, the Weird (2008)
➤ I Saw the Devil (2010)
➤ The Age of Shadows (2016)
➤ Illang: The Wolf Brigade (2018)

1. A Bittersweet Life
2. A Tale of Two Sisters
3. Cobweb
4. The Quiet Family
5. The Foul King

Watchlist

➤ Alps (2011)

1. Poor Things
2. The Favourite
3. Dogtooth
4. The Killing of a Sacred Deer
5. Kinds of Kindness
6. The Lobster
7. Nimic
8. Necktie

Watchlist

➤ Zabriskie Point (1970)
➤ The enger (1975)

1. La Notte
2. L'Eclisse
3. Red Desert
4. L'Avventura
5. Blow-Up

Watchlist

➤ The Kid (1921)
➤ The Gold Rush (1925)
➤ The Circus (1928)
➤ Modern Times (1936)

1. The Great Dictator
2. City Lights
3. Monsieur Verdoux
4. Limelight

Watchlist

➤ A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945)
➤ Wild River (1960)
➤ Splendor in the Grass (1961)

1. A Face in the Crowd
2. A Streetcar Named Desire
3. East of Eden
4. On the Waterfront

Watchlist

➤ The Conversation (1974)
➤ One from the Heart (1982)
➤ The Outsiders (1983)
➤ Rumble Fish (1983)
➤ The Godfather Part III (1990)
➤ Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

1. The Godfather Part II
2. Apocalypse Now
3. The Godfather
4. Megalopolis

1. Paprika
2. Perfect Blue
3. Tokyo Godfathers
4. Millennium Actress