Touching that perfect John Woo-ism of these male loves that are not consummated, done up by glass reflecting and the shared scars. By force of Hollywood ease is this story that Dark Knight Rises eventually apes, but is only mediocre for it. Mission Impossible 2, a direct abrasion, what should not be, and they're right. But everything is good, a first half built solely to rug pull, halo jump and Raiden mask reveals multi, so much I forget who Ethan…

Much as Jacques Rivette had done, Trenque Lauquen is working within cinema as a successor of the grand novel. As that, Laura Citarella exceeds in bounds of carving out her film is a definitive portrayal of Argentina as Rivette did with Paris. This area is a felt place, related to an owned experience as the inhabitant. Primary level feeling of Trenque Lauquen is the extent, stretched feeling of a place's memoriam at the distance of recall. In recreation, it is…

Barely art, the absolute bare level that constitutes what we’d call a “movie” and have it still be art. It’s hard to find any meat that justifies this over simply being a shinier variant of the vampire blockbuster, something that once came in fine line around two decades ago — Nosferatu is always film first, horror second. Robert Eggers makes it entirely horror, art walked upon the floor, covered in the muck of his incredibly dark masturbation session. Identity tossed…

Everything that is told of what this movie does for others is exactly what it did not do for me. What is not touched enough in how this film is considered is just how much of it is tied to its didactic nature, and this is because it is sorely, weightfully lost in its way of making substantial images. It's not exactly that there is nothing to grab at, to be a film of such acclaim, I feel there must…