Reviews

This is an outstanding horror film—the kind that leaves you absolutely floored by its ending. The director brilliantly uses the husband’s character as a subtle mirror of the historical backdrop, weaving the war into visceral elements of body horror. With a masterful script and flawless technical execution, it’s a true standout in the genre.

Based on a true story, the female lead is consistently wronged by the men in her life. She crosses paths with three men: a mama’s boy who betrays her, a deserter with a disfigured face, and a ruthless man. Despite the torment life throws at her, she always clings to her conscience.

Putting the director’s reputation aside, this film stands out as an exceptional crime thriller focused on drug enforcement. The car-versus-train chase sequence was jaw-dropping—its creativity and execution left me stunned. And to think this was made in 1971! It feels as fresh and thrilling as a modern sci-fi blockbuster.

William Friedkin might not be a cinematic master, but he’s a remarkably versatile director who adapts seamlessly across genres. In The French Connection, he delivered a tough, realistic cop drama, while in The Exorcist, he mastered an atmosphere of haunting terror.

I didn’t expect this to be a queer road movie about Indigenous youth and Two-Spirited identity, yet that’s precisely what gives it its unique flavor. At its core, it's still a familiar coming-of-age tale with a queer awakening, but placing it within the context of a First Nations culture and setting it against the poetic beauty of Nova Scotia elevates both the film’s emotional core and visuals.

For a film released in 1993, the craftsmanship is remarkably refined. The lack of wide-angle lenses in that era makes the sharp facial details and rich textures of the bank vault all the more impressive. It’s also a time capsule of '90s Atlanta, from the cars to the cityscape.

The runtime is definitely a challenge, and the film’s front portion drags on due to heavy exposition and the introduction of a crowded cast. There's also a strong dose of nationalism that might not sit well with everyone. Still, once the pace picks up, the thrilling music and taut editing take over. What stuck with me most, though, was the unwavering spirit of these pioneers—they were dreamers and doers, and the film captures that determination with respect.

A good comedy starts with strong characters and solid relationships, then the humor flows naturally from there. This film, however, goes the opposite route. Greg Hsu’s much-praised dance scene, for example, feels like a forced gag designed purely for laughs. Without emotional grounding or meaningful character dynamics, these comedic moments land awkwardly and feel emotionally disconnected.

With little foreshadowing in the first half, the story struggles to build its emotional impact. Hence, when the police arrive, there’s no sense of dread, and viewers feel disconnected from Vera’s anguish later on. She moves through the plot as if following a blueprint, and we never quite feel the love or empathy she’s meant to have for the girls she helps.

The script just doesn’t hold up. It never dives deep into exploring the human nature, nor does it capture the nuanced highs and lows of daily life. Instead, it’s a patchwork of emotional clichés, strung together in formulaic beats. The characters feel flat and overly stereotyped, and the central romance lacks real emotional resonance. It’s as if the story took a heterosexual rom-com blueprint and awkwardly repurposed it for a gay narrative.

This is a film driven entirely by mood—quiet, fragmented, and seemingly uneventful—yet beneath its surface lies an unmistakable current of anxiety. The tension between artistic solitude and the chaos of everyday obligations forms the heart of the story. Life is both a disturbance and an inspiration for the artist. The film captures the subtle, invisible restrictions of existence, and gently suggests that once those binds loosen, life would seem more beautiful.

Despite its compelling premise, the film’s slow pace and excessive flashbacks dilute its power. The complex structure ends up overexplaining, where simplicity might have been more effective. Compared to other minimalist sci-fi dramas like "The Man from Earth," "Slingshot" struggles to sustain narrative tension or keep dialogue consistently engaging.

Ti West proves again that he's a genre director unafraid to take risks. While some may call the film boring, there's a certain respect owed to his controlled pacing and stylistic commitment. The slow-burn setup might lull you into indifference, but the tonal shift in the final act adds just enough tension to keep it compelling.

From its character design to narrative setting, this film undeniably echoes "Ghost in the Shell," and the lead definitely resembles Motoko Kusanagi. Overall, it’s a quietly haunting and often underappreciated work of cyberpunk cinema.

Moore leans heavily on archival footage, shaping it with shrewd editing and emotional cues. His personal perspective saturates the film, enhancing its resonance with audiences but complicating its credibility as journalism. The film succeeds artistically by turning subjective experience into collective catharsis.

Despite being a South American production, the film feels polished enough to pass as part of the Hollywood crime-thriller assembly line. While the bank heist genre has been done to death, this one still finds room for novelty, particularly in the careful plotting and execution of the plan. That said, the final twist, where the protagonist is turned in by his wife, feels disappointingly uninspired.

Set in the 1970s and inspired by true events, "The Bank Job" offers more than just a robbery—it peels back layers of political and royal intrigue. There's little high-tech action, yet the suspense never lags, especially when the gang cracks open safe deposit boxes, one mysterious vault at a time.

Its concept is wildly original—reviving Hitler in modern-day Germany to comment on current politics. Beneath the laughs, it’s a sharp indictment of contemporary issues like human rights, racism, and environmental neglect, cleverly disguised as comedy.

Festooned by David Amram’s richly boisterous jazz soundtrack, and albeit the eye-rolling factitiousness of adults-playing-teens, Kazan’s SPLENDOR IN THE GRASS is a masterpiece and searing social drama full of theatrics and delectation. It potently reminds us that the fight against bigotry, sexism and paternalism is a never-ending battle, and we shall never let up.

1964 marked a milestone year for the Beatles, with the release of their seminal album "A Hard Day's Night" and their explosive breakthrough in the U.S. market. This film, produced in the same year, is not only a document of that moment but also a pure embodiment of the Beatles' spirit—radiating optimism, rhythm, and joy. It captures the energy of a band on the cusp of global transformation, heralding a musical movement that would define a generation.