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Watched on Wednesday April 30, 2025.

Watched on Sunday April 27, 2025.

the straight story occupies a unique & paradoxical position within lynch’s oeuvre, serving as both an outlier and a reinforcement of his thematic preoccupations. produced under the ostensibly incongruous aegis of disney, the film trades in lynch’s characteristic surrealism for a mode of restrained, humanist realism — yet it remains unmistakably his. the linear narrative serves as a vehicle for an inquiry into aging, memory & moral reconciliation, rendered with an aesthetic delicacy that belies its narrative simplicity. the oppressive sound & deliberate pacing evoke a latent tension, lending alvin’s journey a mythopoetic dimension that transforms the rural american landscape into a site of both existential confrontation & sublime reflection. badalamenti’s elegiac score functions not merely as accompaniment but as emotional architecture, underscoring the film’s oscillation between melancholy & grace. the encounter-based structure allows the film to unfold episodically, each meeting offering a microcosmic meditation on relational ethics & the intersubjective nature of selfhood. philosophically, the film gestures toward kantian notions of duty & moral autonomy. alvin’s physical journey doubles as a metaphysical age toward reconciliation — both familial & intrapersonal — rendering the film a quiet yet profound invocation of the “moral law within” juxtaposed against the vast, indifferent “starry skies above.” in eschewing spectacle for sincerity, lynch unearths a transcendent beauty in the banal, offering a rare exploration of virtue devoid of sentimentality.

Watched on Monday April 21, 2025.

pulses with an unfiltered energy, carving out its place as a cornerstone of independent cinema not through polish, but through its relentless immediacy. every frame hums with an off-the-cuff intensity — eyes dart, hands twitch, emotions flicker & flare without pretence. it’s cinema stripped down to instinct. a lean, freewheeling portrait of urban life steeped in smoky clubs, wandering conversations & unpredictable emotions, shadows drifts through questions of selfhood & perception. with jazz rhythms as its heartbeat and improvised dialogue as its skin, the film ventures through the unsettled terrain of race, desire, disconnection & the raw fragility of trying to define who we are — alone & with others. rather than offer neat resolutions, cassavetes lets contradictions simmer. it's a feverish, poetic collage of lived experience — equal parts intellectual & visceral — that shakes loose the conventions of narrative & forces you to feel, not just watch.

anatomy of a murder might well be the crown jewel of the american courtroom film, but not for the reasons you'd expect. if rashomon tells us we can never know the truth, preminger’s film suggests something more chilling — that in the machinery of law, the truth may not even matter. there’s a cold brilliance in the film’s visual language: tracking shots that aren’t just technically precise, but morally loaded. the camera drifts, glides, lingers — as though it’s piecing together a map of conflicting human perceptions, then tearing it apart. preminger turns the sterile space of the courtroom into something almost metaphysical. every object, every glance, every silence hums with potential meaning. a woman’s underwear becomes a battleground. a clock, a glass, a word — all gain symbolic weight. the film dissects not just a murder, but the tangled mess of gender, desire & social judgement surrounding it. what’s striking is its refusal to sermonise. it navigates moral grey zones with elegance, letting contradictions breathe. the film is unflinching, but never heavy-handed. and in its cool, deliberate unfolding, it manages to be both gripping & deeply unsettling. a masterclass not just in genre, but in cinematic ethics.

profoundly moving & poignant exploration on the nature of humanity — our yearning for connection & our shared vulnerability in the face of mortality. unlike the more cryptic emotional landscapes of his later work, here lynch allows a raw tenderness to surface. shot in expressive black & white, often framing characters at a measured distance, the film captures victorian society’s rigid norms & prejudices with an almost dreamlike clarity. echoes of early cinema, particularly méliès, infuse the story with a hauntingly poetic texture, elevating its historical setting into something timeless & deeply empathetic.

Watched on Saturday April 5, 2025.

eraserhead stands as a paradigmatic instance of avant-garde cinema working within the coordinates of a uniquely american surrealism. as lynch’s first feature, it inaugurates many of the concerns that would come to define his oeuvre: the destabilisation of diegetic space, the collapse of narrative causality & the deployment of affective dissonance through aural & visual abstraction. the film’s aesthetic owes a considerable debt to the traditions of german expressionism — not merely in its high-contrast chiaroscuro & distorted spatial composition, but in its externalisation of psychological & libidinal drives onto the mise-en-scène itself. the industrial wasteland in which the narrative unfolds functions not as a realist backdrop but as a projection of psychic claustrophobia & existential inertia. lynch’s use of non-diegetic sound — mechanical drones, ambiguous murmurs & visceral distortions — further unsettles any stable spectator-position, inducing a synaesthetic unease that resists catharsis. what emerges is not a conventional surrealist text in the buñuelian sense, but a mutated form of surrealism uniquely embedded in the alienated conditions of post-industrial american life. the film’s grotesque imagery — particularly the deformed infant & the leakage it entails — speaks to an underlying anxiety about reproduction, masculinity & corporeality in late capitalism. in this sense, eraserhead can be read as both a critique and an embodiment of the cultural unconscious, staging the breakdown of symbolic coherence in the face of an excessive Real. it prefigures the machinic surrealism of lynch’s later work, wherein representation becomes an act of ontological amplification — stretching the real to its most disquieting intensities. as such, the film resists definitive interpretation, functioning instead as an open system of signifiers that solicit, disrupt & defer meaning in perpetuity.

Watched on Wednesday April 2, 2025.

one of the ford's most overtly self-reflexive works, standing as both a western & a critique of the genre’s ideological underpinnings. the film foregrounds the process of myth-making, encapsulated in the oft-quoted line: “when the legend becomes fact, print the legend.” this statement functions as a metatextual commentary, not only on the film’s narrative but also on ford’s career-long engagement with historical fiction & the construction of the american west as a cultural mythos. by juxtaposing an expectation of factuality — implied by the film’s title — with a lyrical, romanticised visual & narrative approach, ford interrogates the mechanisms through which history is rewritten into legend. the film employs a dialectical structure that contrasts two competing visions of heroism: the extralegal, rugged individualism embodied by tom doniphon and the institutionalised, law-abiding idealism represented by ransom stoddard. ford simultaneously engages with & subverts traditional western archetypes — the outlaw, the schoolteacher as an agent of civilisation & the tenderfoot thrust into violence — while ultimately reaffirming the genre’s foundational themes of law, order & sacrifice. yet, in positioning the western hero within an explicitly retrospective framework, ford highlights the tensions between reality & representation, between the ephemeral nature of frontier justice and the enduring power of myth. the film’s aesthetic choices further underscore its engagement with nostalgia & historiography. the decision to shoot in black-and-white, despite the widespread use of technicolor by the early 1960s, reinforces a visual & thematic backward-looking quality, positioning liberty valance as an elegy for both the western genre & the classical hollywood system that sustained it. additionally, the casting of wayne & stewart — both aging actors portraying characters significantly younger than themselves — adds another layer of reflexivity, as their presence gestures toward a fading era of stardom & a shifting cinematic landscape. in this sense, the man who shot liberty valance works as both a deconstruction & an extension of ford’s own oeuvre, a film that critically examines the mythic structures of the west while remaining firmly embedded within them.

exists within a liminal space, one that interrogates the aesthetics of small-city life through a surrealist yet highly composed visual grammar. rankin constructs a world that is both immediately recognisable & profoundly alienating, transforming sites of canadian cultural ubiquity — an ice cream stand in a parking garage, a run down tim hortons — into markers of estrangement. the film’s engagement with the semiotics of canadiana is particularly interesting, not merely through direct linguistic displacement (such as the sight of a tim hortons logo in farsi) but in the way these symbols are stripped of their original affective resonance, leaving only the spectre of cultural familiarity. rankin’s formal approach sits at the intersection of rigid compositional control & the stark naturalism of observational cinema, evoking an improbable synthesis of kiarostami and kaurismäki. his framing — often symmetrical to the point of artificiality — imbues the mundane with a heightened, almost theatrical sense of unease, while the film’s pacing allows moments of silent devastation to unfold with deliberate restraint. the humour, too, emerges not from overt comedic intent but from the inherent absurdity of these juxtapositions, resisting easy classification as either satire or nostalgia. by the film’s final act, rankin shifts into an even more elliptical , allowing visual storytelling to take precedence over dialogue. the result is a work of rare tonal complexity — both deeply funny & profoundly melancholic — that interrogates the process of cultural assimilation, economic stagnation & the quiet erosion of youthful aspiration. universal language is a film that lingers in the mind like the afterimage of a fluorescent sign in an abandoned mall.

flow eschews the classical hero’s journey in favour of an evocative, impressionistic exploration of displacement & survival. set in a prehistoric landscape devoid of human presence, the film engages with ecological themes, subtly invoking discourses on climate change, extinction & the anthropocene’s lingering spectre. its absence of explicit anthropomorphism sets it apart from conventional animated cinema, allowing the film’s animal protagonists to maintain an organic realism that enhances the work’s thematic resonance. the film’s refusal to impose a singular interpretive framework fosters an open-ended experience, where meaning emerges through the interplay of imagery, movement & atmosphere. this ambiguity reinforces flow’s poetic sensibility, positioning it closer to environmental allegory than didactic narrative. the catastrophe at the film’s core — whether attributed to divine retribution, natural forces, or human negligence — unfolds with an inexorable, almost mythic inevitability, transforming the displaced animals into spectral figures adrift in the remnants of a lost world.

situated within the sociopolitical landscape of late-1960s belgium, the film renders a highly localised yet universally resonant exploration of youthful alienation, capturing the liminal space between ideological fervour & teenage uncertainty. through its single-day narrative structure and akerman’s characteristic observational style, the film foregrounds the fragmented & contingent nature of identity formation. lethem’s naturalistic performance imbues michèle with an arresting vulnerability, embodying the existential weight of self-discovery as it intersects with the broader collective euphoria and subsequent disenchantment of the era. the mise-en-scène, marked by a subtle interplay between interiority & external chaos, underscores the film’s negotiation of intimacy and estrangement. a particularly interesting party sequence encapsulates the tension between performative sociability and private despondency, reinforcing akerman’s thematic preoccupation with the ephemeral nature of connection. portrait of a young girl at the end of the 60s in brussels exemplifies akerman’s nuanced engagement with subjectivity, gender & the politics of desire. it stands as a deeply evocative work that interrogates the intersections of personal & political histories through an aesthetic of restraint & emotional precision.

sister midnight aspires to a heightened aesthetic sensibility, yet its stylistic excesses ultimately undermine its cohesion. the editing, rather than reinforcing thematic or emotional tension, becomes a self-conscious performance, drawing undue attention to its own artifice & disrupting narrative immersion. conceptually, the film gestures toward an engagement with the "monstrous feminine," yet its execution lacks the depth or rigour necessary to offer a substantive critique or subversion of the trope. instead, the thematic focus feels fragmented, frequently diverting its gaze before fully interrogating its central ideas. the film's indebtedness to the stylised formalism of auteurs such as wes anderson & quentin tarantino is evident — not merely in its symmetrical compositions & overtly curated soundtrack but also in its reliance on ironic detachment as a substitute for genuine affective resonance. however, rather than recontextualising these influences in a meaningful way, sister midnight ultimately succumbs to pastiche, borrowing aesthetic markers without imbuing them with fresh significance. despite its ambitious visual language, the film struggles to sustain narrative momentum, rendering its idiosyncratic world surprisingly inert. nonetheless, its use of mumbai as a setting provides a visually dynamic backdrop, offering moments of richness even as the film itself remains frustratingly underdeveloped.

Watched on Saturday April 22, 2023.

for a film that starts with so much promise, the last showgirl ultimately collapses under the weight of its own unfulfilled ideas. pamela anderson delivers a performance that is effortlessly compelling, drawing you into a character who deserves far more than the script gives her. despite anderson’s best efforts, the film never fully commits to exploring shelley’s complexities as a mother, performer & woman grappling with her past. instead, it leans heavily on aesthetic flourishes — handheld montages, atmospheric production design & a nice score — that obscure rather than illuminate the story’s core themes. the film consistently hints at deeper meaning but never follows through, often resorting to on-the-nose exposition rather than organic storytelling. billie lourd’s character, for instance, is written in a way that feels completely out of sync, with a strangely adolescent affectation that clashes with her supposed age. visually, the cinematography feels frustratingly claustrophobic, often too close to its subjects, as if trying to force intimacy rather than earn it. and structurally, the film presents itself as layered but instead feels fragmented, leaving many of its most intriguing ideas underdeveloped. it’s not that the last showgirl lacks ambition — on the contrary, its premise has real potential, and its themes of identity, aging & reinvention could have been deeply resonant. but instead of diving into those ideas, it skims the surface, leaving the whole experience feeling disappointingly hollow. in the end, it’s a film that wants to say something but never quite figures out how.

interrogates the inextricable link between capitalism & systemic exploitation, foregrounding the dehumanisation necessary for such structures to function. the film situates its protagonist within a corporate-colonial endeavour, where the commodification of life itself becomes the fulcrum of survival. while bong’s thematic preoccupations remain consistent with his prior oeuvre, mickey 17 struggles to sustain the ingenuity that defined his strongest works. the film’s initial premise — anchored in the well-worn sci-fi trope of human cloning — holds promise, yet over its two-hour runtime, it devolves into an overly didactic exercise in socio-political critique. bong, whose prior films have balanced metaphor with dynamic storytelling, leans too heavily on overt allegory here, rendering the film more of a theoretical treatise than a compelling cinematic experience. the satirical elements, while conceptually potent, lack the nuance or subversive energy that made parasite so resonant. as a result, mickey 17 often feels indistinguishable from more conventional studio-driven sci-fi spectacles, its genre mechanics overshadowing bong’s signature auteurist sensibilities. despite its shortcomings, the film retains a degree of political urgency, particularly within the socio-economic landscape of 2025. beneath its blockbuster sheen, there exists a more incisive, possibly radical iteration of this narrative that remains tantalisingly out of reach. however, in its current form, mickey 17 s as a disappointingly conventional work from a filmmaker capable of far greater depth & originality.

functions as a self-reflexive engagement with the musical genre, reconfiguring its conventions through a deliberately constrained, quotidian setting. the department store serves as both a literal & figurative stage, where consumerism and romantic entanglements intertwine in a choreographed spectacle of affect & desire. akerman’s approach resists the overt stylisation of demy’s musicals, instead employing a muted, almost brechtian distancing effect that foregrounds the artificiality of cinematic romance while simultaneously affirming its emotional resonance. the film’s precision — its carefully orchestrated mise-en-scène, stylised performances & rhythmic interplay of movement and sound — transforms the act of window-shopping into an existential metaphor, where love, commerce & temporality intersect in a tableau of ephemeral yet deeply felt connections.

a film structured around negation & absence, picnic at hanging rock works through an aesthetics of withholding, wherein the enigma of the girls' disappearance functions less as a narrative puzzle to be solved than as a destabilising force that exposes the ideological fissures within a rigidly stratified colonial society. weir’s formal approach, while not entirely divested of the bourgeois romanticism inherent in its lush visual composition, simultaneously mobilises aesthetic deferral as a critical strategy. the film’s rhythmic ellipses & refusal of narrative closure enact a meta-cinematic interrogation of classical storytelling conventions, foregrounding the limits of representation & the ideological function of mystery in the cinematic apparatus.

"spare me from cooking three meals a day — spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. i want to be free." — sylvia plath

quietly devastating film on the precariousness of labour & the alienation it engenders. through a restrained yet deeply affective lens, the film interrogates the dehumanising effects of low-wage work, where routine becomes an oppressive force & upward mobility feels like an unattainable mirage. joana santos delivers a nuanced performance, embodying the silent resilience of those caught in the relentless machinery of survival. yet, within this bleak socio-economic landscape, carreira finds moments of ephemeral tenderness — gestures of solidarity, fleeting human connections — that punctuate the film’s otherwise stark realism. the final scene, tinged with a hesitant hopefulness, eschews sentimentality in favour of something far more honest: a recognition of endurance as its own kind of resistance. a remarkable feature debut, on falling demands attention not just to the lives it depicts, but to the structural conditions that render them so precarious.

Watched on Tuesday February 25, 2025.

Watched on Monday February 24, 2025.

exemplifies the pitfalls of mythologising an iconic figure without engaging meaningfully with the sociohistorical forces that shaped them. while the film is not an outright failure in of craft, its profound lack of ambition renders it an ultimately hollow exercise. what is most fascinating is its inability to capitalise on the richness of its setting — greenwich village in the 1960s, a space teeming with artistic ferment, political radicalism & cultural upheaval. rather than embracing the ideological and aesthetic tensions inherent in this milieu, the film opts for a neutered, apolitical approach that flattens its subject matter into something curiously anodyne. even at the level of characterisation, the film struggles to establish an internal logic for its protagonist beyond the well-worn archetype of the tortured male genius. his conflicts are gestured at rather than developed & his artistic evolution remains frustratingly opaque. while the narrative occasionally alludes to the external pressures shaping his identity — resistance to categorisation, commercial & ideological tensions — the screenplay offers no real insight into his interiority. this absence of psychological depth extends to the ing characters, particularly the film’s female figures, who remain woefully underdeveloped. its engagement with history is equally superficial; a brief shot of the march on washington suggests a broader political consciousness, yet this moment is never expanded upon in any substantive way, reducing it to mere set dressing. such gestures toward historical context, while superficially evocative, ultimately expose the film’s reluctance to confront the deeper ideological currents of the era. nowhere is this more evident than in the climactic “going electric” sequence, a moment that should carry enormous cultural & artistic significance yet feels entirely weightless due to the film’s failure to establish any real stakes. in the end, a complete unknown shows the hazards of prestige filmmaking at its most self-congratulatory — historically evocative yet thematically inert, visually competent yet aesthetically unremarkable, seemingly profound yet ultimately devoid of any real perspective.

a film defined by absence, transience & the porous boundaries between self and other. anna functions less as an active participant in her own narrative than as a vessel for the confessions, regrets, and longings of those she encounters. her ive receptivity to the emotional burdens of others paradoxically reinforces her own alienation; she exists in the periphery of their lives, absorbing their experiences without anchoring herself within her own. the motif of perpetual movement, of travel without destination, reinforces this thematic core: anna’s detachment manifests spatially through her inability to remain, as if stillness would render her vulnerable to complete dissolution. akerman’s formal sensibilities heighten this affective alienation, employing extended static shots, sparse dialogue, and meticulously composed framings of transient spaces — hotel rooms, corridors, train compartments. her aesthetic strategies align with her broader preoccupation with time, stasis & the quotidian, evoking the structural rigour of slow cinema while maintaining an acute emotional undercurrent. the film’s measured pace and minimalism demand a recalibration of audience engagement, privileging duration & silence over conventional narrative momentum. while this formal austerity risks disengagement — there are moments where the film’s languor veers toward tedium — akerman’s commitment to mirroring the rhythms of lived experience ensures that even these silences carry meaning. the meetings of anna thus becomes a meditation on displacement, both spatial & existential, foregrounding the disjunction between presence and connection in a world where intimacy remains elusive.

every ounce of love & grief that a person can express in just twenty minutes is distilled into this deeply personal tribute. for those who regard shepitko as one of cinema’s most tragic losses, klimov’s work resonates as both an elegy & an assertion of her enduring significance. more than a biographical homage, the film functions as a cine-poetic reflection on shepitko’s aesthetic and ethical commitments, positioning her artistry as a moral pursuit. by juxtaposing archival stills with extracts from her films, klimov not only commemorates her formal & thematic concerns but also constructs a visual discourse on the human visage as an index of vitality & existential dignity. in doing so, larisa transcends mere memorialisation, emerging as an intimate yet profoundly cinematic testament to both an artist & the devotion she inspired.

stands as a towering achievement of soviet war cinema, its aesthetic and thematic complexity situating it within a lineage of spiritually charged, existentialist filmmaking. the film transcends its immediate historical context, transforming the narrative of partisan resistance into a christological meditation on suffering, sacrifice & the absence of divine intercession. in doing so, shepitko crafts a cinematic language that is at once visceral & metaphysical, drawing upon both the ascetic minimalism of soviet realism and the transcendental stylisation reminiscent of bresson and tarkovsky. the first act is characterised by an immersive sonic landscape in which diegetic noise functions as an additional layer of tension, emphasising the materiality of bodies struggling against both nature & history. the film’s latter half shifts into an unrelenting psychological crucible, culminating in the devastating interrogation sequence where solonitsyn’s cold bureaucratic villain embodies the faceless machinery of ideological brutality. sotnikov’s ion narrative is rendered with an almost liturgical intensity, his suffering imbued with the iconographic weight of religious martyrdom. yet, shepitko denies the audience any sense of redemption, instead staging his final moments as an existential scream into the void, an eschatological rupture that withholds grace. the mise-en-scène reinforces this metaphysical desolation, with stark close-ups reducing human connection to breath, touch, & ultimately, the silent choreography of hands — a motif that gestures towards the classical iconography of deposition and lamentation. in its fusion of theological allegory & historical fatalism, the ascent exemplifies shepitko’s mastery of form, offering an experience that is at once harrowing & profoundly interrogative.

martin parr’s photographic practice is known for its synthesis of wit, incisive social commentary & an underlying sense of pathos. his compositions often appear almost hyperreal, as if meticulously staged rather than spontaneously captured. this effect is a result of parr’s highly developed visual acuity — his mastery of framing, perspective & the decisive moment — combined with his editorial discernment in curating his vast body of work. the documentary foregrounds parr’s performative invisibility, a key element of his methodology. his ability to seamlessly integrate into his environment — moving through crowds unobtrusively, his demeanour unassuming — allows him to document subjects without disrupting their natural behaviour. a particularly revealing aspect of the film is its exploration of parr’s approach to portraiture. rather than capturing spontaneous expressions, he consciously directs his subjects to refrain from smiling, encouraging a neutral countenance that arguably enhances the affective ambiguity of his work. this emphasis on an unsmiling “normal” face underscores the bittersweet essence of his aesthetic, where humour and melancholy exist in a finely balanced interplay.

operates on the edge of an almost self-conscious quaintness, echoing the aesthetics & narrative tendencies of mumblecore, yet it transcends pastiche through radwanski’s formal precision and measured pacing. the film’s editorial choices are particularly striking, with elliptical cuts and carefully framed two-shots that articulate psychological depth beyond dialogue. radwanski allows character dynamics to emerge organically through spatial relationships & gesture. a sequence during a couple’s run stands out as a moment of unspoken yet palpable tension, emblematic of the film’s broader thematic preoccupation with the difficulty of expressing oneself. in this way, matt and mara situates itself within a tradition of cinema that foregrounds interpersonal ambivalence, capturing the nuances of unexpressed desire & emotional self-obfuscation with remarkable subtlety.

Watched on Monday February 17, 2025.

in news from home, akerman pieces together a meditation on displacement, alienation & the estrangement of urban life. through a formalist approach, she juxtaposes static, desolate images of new york with an auditory landscape that privileges the mechanical & inhuman over the personal. the film’s sound design systematically erases diegetic human speech, replacing it with an oppressive urban din that overwhelms even akerman’s own voice as she recites letters from her mother. this sonic dissonance, coupled with the film’s repetitive structure, reinforces a thematic tension between intimacy & distance, as the mother’s persistent appeals for connection and reassurance stand in stark contrast to the city’s unyielding indifference. the film thus functions as both a personal & structural critique, interrogating the capacity for genuine emotional fulfilment within the isolating framework of the modern metropolis.

constructs a melancholic meditation on memory, loss & the cyclical nature of human relationships. by employing a reverse narrative structure, the film forces the audience to relive a breakup in reverse — peeling back layers of bitterness & disillusionment to reveal the tender, tentative beginnings of love. this structural device, paired with gondry’s surrealist visual language, externalises the psychological trauma of heartbreak, positioning memory itself as both a source of pain and an object of longing. however, upon revisiting the film as an adult, its emotional resonance feels diminished. what once seemed profound now appears overly manufactured, with its fantastical conceit feeling rigidly controlled rather than organically evocative. carrey, in particular, struggles to fully inhabit the melancholic the role demands, rendering his performance somewhat unconvincing. ultimately, the film’s philosophical weight is undercut by a sense of artificiality, raising the question of whether its impact is contingent on the viewer’s personal emotional disposition. perhaps its poignancy is best appreciated in adolescence, when the romanticisation of doomed love still carries a certain tragic allure.

across four films and nearly a quarter of a century, bridget jones has remained an emblematic figure of romantic comedy, her enduring appeal rooted in a carefully calibrated balance of relatability & farcical self-sabotage. in mad about the boy, bridget enters a new stage of life — widowed, raising two children, and re-engaging with the complexities of contemporary dating — yet the film’s narrative structure ensures that her fundamental character remains largely static. while the premise ostensibly invites a meditation on grief, resilience & the evolving womanhood, these themes are largely subsumed by a reliance on formulaic comedic set-pieces that foreground bridget’s perennial awkwardness. zellweger’s performance maintains the affable charm that has long defined the character, yet the film struggles to transcend the limitations of its own nostalgia-driven appeal. the comedic framework — rooted in exaggerated social faux pas & secondhand embarrassment — often undercuts the film’s more introspective moments, particularly in its depiction of bridget’s interactions with her son’s teacher, a subplot that oscillates between sincerity & overplayed farce. the ing cast, however, injects a measure of vitality; thompson’s acerbic wit as bridget’s gynaecologist provides much-needed narrative sharpness, while grant’s cleaver — reintroduced despite his presumed demise in the previous instalment — remains an emblem of arrested development, his outdated flip phone serving as a nod to his resistance to change. however, the film’s greatest shortcoming is the absence of mark darcy, whose presence has long been the emotional & narrative anchor of the series. darcy’s steadfast, if occasionally aloof, devotion to bridget provided a necessary counterbalance to her chaotic energy, grounding the franchise in a sense of genuine romantic sincerity. his brief, imagined appearances in this film only serve to highlight the void left by his absence, & despite the film’s attempt to explore the aftermath of his death, it fails to fully grapple with the profound impact of losing such a defining figure. in many ways, mad about the boy exposes the fragility of the franchise’s formula without darcy’s stabilising presence, ultimately leaving the story feeling unmoored.

i sat next to rupert everett in a japanese udon bar in soho a couple of years ago & sooooo desperately wanted to tell him how much i loved george in this movie — but the man was on his phone the whole time (the universal sign of please don’t talk to me) so we both just slurped our noodles in silence whilst i pictured him singing say a little prayer to julia roberts

Watched on Tuesday February 11, 2025.

Watched on Tuesday February 11, 2025.

Watched on Tuesday February 11, 2025.

blue velvet is a meticulously composed film, distinguished by its masterful manipulation of colour, lighting & sound design, all of which coalesce to evoke an oneiric yet disquieting atmosphere. the film’s aesthetics operate within a heightened artificiality, amplifying its engagement with themes of repression, voyeurism & the uncanny. yet, for all its subversive gestures toward neo-noir conventions, blue velvet remains entrenched in the male gaze & ultimately privileges a male perspective in its articulation of violence, desire, and moral transgression. lynch’s excavation of suburban americana functions as a dual exposure — on one level, the natural world as a site of concealed grotesquerie, symbolised through the writhing insect life beneath the manicured lawn; on another, the social order as an elaborate performance, disrupted by the pathological excess embodied in frank booth’s psychosexual sadism. hopper’s character, a manifestation of libidinal anarchy, serves as a conduit for the film’s broader interrogation of the Real, positing social decay as an intrinsic, rather than aberrant, condition. however, despite its avant-garde flourishes — stylised temporal distortions, ironic pastiches of american idealism & a fetishistic fascination with decay — the film never fully extricates itself from conventional cinematic storytelling. in this sense, blue velvet crystallises the paradox of the “lynchian”: a simultaneous deconstruction and reification of classical hollywood form, unsettling yet tethered to the structures it seeks to dismantle.

this film presents a unique & quirky approach to the creature-feature genre, initially masquerading as an amateurish pastiche before revealing itself as a carefully constructed exercise in deliberate artifice. rather than adhering to conventional horror or thriller tropes, it operates primarily as a meditation on community, social etiquette & the idiosyncrasies of human interaction. the film’s aesthetic choices — marked by stilted line delivery & an intentionally rudimentary production style — serve not as mere parody but as a genuine engagement with the mechanics of low-budget filmmaking. humour emerges not only from the absurdity of its dialogue, which oscillates between the poetically ornate & the comically banal, but also from its self-aware embrace of artifice. in eschewing traditional narrative structures in favour of episodic character interactions, the film constructs an affective space where sincerity and absurdity coexist, resulting in a viewing experience that is consistently engaging & amusing.

the cowboy and the frenchman operates as a postmodern pastiche, engaging in self-referential parody that simultaneously critiques and indulges in the tropes of the western genre. the film’s overt stylistic play and deliberate superficiality suggest a resistance to conventional narrative depth or thematic substance, rendering it ostensibly vacuous. however, this very rejection of cinematic and intellectual orthodoxy imbues the work with a distinct, if ironic, charm — most notably embodied in harry dean stanton’s understated performance, which serves as the film’s emotional and aesthetic anchor. lynch’s portrayal of the "rednecks" transcends mere caricature; the ostensibly simplistic, cacophonous exclamations of the cowboys evolve into expressions of genuine warmth & communal solidarity. in this transformation, the film reconfigures the desert landscape — not as a barren void, but as a space of unexpected conviviality and cross-cultural exchange.

bong joon-ho delivers a sharp, unrelenting critique of societal double standards. through three loosely connected stories, he peels back the respectable veneer of the upper class, revealing the disconnect between their moral posturing and personal misconduct. the film blends dark humour with incisive observations, culminating in a conclusion that forces viewers to reassess the trust they place in authority figures. bong’s fascination with class dynamics & societal pretence, which later reaches its peak in parasite, is already on full display here. while his films entertain on the surface, they linger beneath, provoking reflection on the privileges we often overlook. incoherence is a bold, uncompromising examination of human flaws, marking the emergence of bong’s distinct narrative voice.

presents an uncompromising examination of mental illness & family dynamics, rendered with both analytical precision and profound emotional sensitivity. leigh’s auteurial approach is characterised by an unwavering observational lens, which refuses to sentimentalise or sensationalise his subjects. this film emerges as one of the most honest portrayals of psychological distress in contemporary cinema, recalling the visceral intensity of cassavetes’ a woman under the influence. jean-baptiste’s performance stands as a formidable counterpart to rowlands’ seminal role, distinguished by its vulnerability & resilience. in hard truths, as in secrets & lies, leigh investigates the delicate interplay of intimacy and alienation within familial structures, elucidating how love often coexists with profound misunderstanding. the film poignantly interrogates the existential challenge of reconciling the idealised image of family with their flawed realities. the statement, "i don’t understand you… but i love you," encapsulates the central thematic tension, highlighting the emotional labour required to navigate these paradoxes. despite its narrative coherence faltering in the final act, the film retains its affective power, offering incisive commentary on the latent resentments & grief that can accumulate in the lives of caregivers.

unfolds as a raw, almost primal articulation of self, bying the usual filters of dialogue, narrative structure & cinematic convention. it invites viewers to either drift along with its quiet, hypnotic current or feel adrift, distanced by its sparse, resonant echoes. to dissect chantal akerman’s approach, the storyline, or to hunt for deep psychological underpinnings feels like missing the point — it’s less about intellectual grasp and more about visceral experience. akerman’s process of revealing herself on screen is a courageous, often piercing exercise in self-exposure, distinct from the performative rejections of comfort we see in more bourgeois cinema. the stark black-and-white visuals underscore this journey, capturing a woman’s struggle for control over her own body, while always acknowledging the inescapable ties to others — whether the lovers she encounters or the audience itself, as hinted at in the layered title. yet, for all its daring minimalism, the film’s abstraction occasionally flattens the emotional & relational terrain. the simplicity of its form risks sidelining the deeper complexities of how je, tu, il, elle intertwine, leaving some of the richer interpersonal dynamics under explored.

shatters the suffocating structures of domesticity & material obsession with anarchic energy. the film transforms the kitchen — a sterile, claustrophobic symbol of domestic routine — into a battleground where cleanliness becomes a tool of erasure, stripping away any semblance of personal freedom. rejecting alienation with raw, unfiltered radicalism, this chaotic, whirlwind short film turns the oppressive tranquility of the household inside out. if jeanne dielman meticulously documents the slow, methodical unraveling of a woman's life within domestic confines, blow up my town detonates that narrative in fast-forward & reverse, gleefully dismantling the very walls that entrap its characters. the domestic sphere doesn’t quietly collapse; it combusts, taking with it the ive agents enslaved by its routines. through this explosive act of rebellion, akerman doesn’t just critique the oppressive spaces we inhabit — she announces her arrival as a groundbreaking force in cinema, marking the birth of a bold new auteur whose vision would reverberate far beyond the confines of the household.

picking up the thread from naked's post-thatcherite implosion and the desideratum of affective relationships in the family, leigh conjures a humanist fresco where emotions are being ripped up, blending his cinematic style with theatrical tension. so although style is less exhilarating here than naked, the sweeping adumbration of trauma in the characters justifies the tears and the humble warmth after wounds start to heal. the 'secrets & lies' that have torn them apart for so long are what bring them together in the end. superbly acted, blethyn & spall deliver especially raw performances. you just can't help getting sucked in. masterpiece!

visually gorgeous film, with breathtaking imagery that lingers in the mind. despite its aesthetic beauty, i found it difficult to form an emotional connection. this might be due to delpero’s emphasis on the film’s post-WWII rural italian backdrop, which, while rich in atmosphere, seems to overshadow the characters themselves. the frequent introduction of new characters adds to this sense of detachment, making it hard to fully engage with their stories. one particularly frustrating aspect was the teasing of a queer subplot that never fully materialised. it felt like the film was on the verge of exploring something meaningful, only to pull back without real commitment, which left a sense of missed potential. that said, i'm glad i stayed with it. the film gradually gains momentum, especially as it shifts into a more emotionally impactful second half. its deliberate, unhurried pace actually works in its favour, allowing for a reflective, almost meditative viewing experience complemented by stunning scenery.

Watched on Wednesday January 29, 2025.

honestly, it’s hard to separate the shining from its disturbing production history, knowing the emotional & physical abuse shelley duvall endured during filming makes it deeply uncomfortable, not in a way that amplifies the horror but in a way that begs the question: why is this still celebrated so uncritically? no amount of artistic ambition justifies what she went through, and the criticisms of her performance seem rooted in misogyny. her portrayal of wendy feels raw & genuine, especially given the circumstances. in of psychological horror, the film feels disappointingly one-dimensional. the torrance family comes across more as a collection of plot devices than actual people. jack is presented as teetering on insanity from the outset, leaving little room for an impactful descent. wendy is reduced to panicked reactions & danny serves primarily as a vessel to explain the shining itself. without meaningful development, the family’s unraveling doesn’t hit as hard as it should. there’s no emotional weight behind their ordeal, just a series of eerie set pieces. on a technical level, the film is undeniably impressive. the use of space in the overlook hotel creates an atmosphere of isolation and dread & the score is haunting in all the right ways. but the more i think about it, the more it feels like the film’s reputation rests on kubrick’s cult of genius & what he represents as an auteur rather than the substance of the story. the visuals and craftsmanship can’t fully mask the lack of emotional engagement or the ethical issues surrounding its creation. art shouldn’t come at the expense of someone’s well-being, and the fact that it did here casts a long shadow over the film’s legacy.

satyajit ray’s devi stands out as a singular piece in his filmography, where the seemingly incompatible elements of realism and brechtian detachment merge in fascinating ways. the film orchestrates a dynamic interplay of competing logics — popular belief, rationalism & the dominance of brahmanical ideology — woven seamlessly into its mise-en-scène, sound design & narrative flow. rarely in ray’s body of work does one encounter a film with such simmering undercurrents of sexual tension, palpable and electrifying, unmatched in its intensity. once again, he delves into his enduring fascination with the friction between tradition & modernity, crafting a deeply introspective exploration of mysticism’s allure and its profound impact on human lives. visually, a masterclass in composition, with shimmering pools of light & shadow, striking spatial dynamics, and fluid, elegant camera movements that elevate every frame into art. but what makes devi particularly extraordinary is ray’s ability to blend the personal with the political, presenting stories of familial intimacy alongside broader, more sweeping reflections on society. few filmmakers possess the rare gift of addressing complex cultural and ideological themes with such honesty, sensitivity & grace.

Watched on Thursday January 23, 2025.

1. Stop Making Sense
2. Grey Gardens
3. Crumb
4. Tokyo-Ga
5. The Beatles: Get Back
6. Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese
7. Daguerréotypes
8. Dont Look Back
9. The Times of Harvey Milk
10. Garlic Is as Good as Ten Mothers

...plus 27 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

i like you very much, just as you are

• Bridget Jones's Diary
• When Harry Met Sally...
• Mamma Mia!
• Clueless
• My Big Fat Greek Wedding
• Music and Lyrics
• Austenland
• Legally Blonde
• My Best Friend's Wedding
• 13 Going on 30

• C'mon C'mon
• Moonlight
• The Iron Claw
• First Reformed
• Uncut Gems
• Lady Bird
• The Witch
• Hereditary
• The Souvenir: Part II
• The Florida Project

cinema peaked here

• Opening Night
• The Heartbreak Kid
• Breaking Away
• Nashville
• What's Up, Doc?
• The Wicker Man
• Girlfriends
• Serpico
• Days of Heaven
• Dog Day Afternoon

...plus 20 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

• A Woman Under the Influence
• Opening Night
• Dog Day Afternoon
• The Long Goodbye
• Joyland
• Days of Heaven
• The Heartbreak Kid
• The Cloud-Capped Star
• Badlands
• Nashville

...plus 75 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.