Reviews

Although it’s a bit of a departure from the classic Western I had in mind, you can tell a lot of care went into the production—so many small details really shine. The film aims to give us a different take on Wyatt Earp—supposedly a more “authentic” version, and in certain aspects, it delivers. The main flaw lies in uneven storytelling, with its strengths and themes failing to carry through the entire film.

Tony Scott sticks to Tarantino’s screenplay like cranking every drop of gore, absurd plot twists, and those trademark long, darkly witty monologues up to eleven. And casting the hero as a video store clerk? That’s Quentin’s self-insert fantasy playing out on screen.

Quentin Tarantino’s first screenplay-turned-film is pure Tarantino: it delivers a satisfyingly righteous finale where every bad guy gets what’s coming to them, and the heroine emerges unbreakable.

Michael Haneke’s precision is remarkable. He methodically lets life unfold on screen, so authentic it borders on mundane. The sheer ordinariness of it makes us blind to the shadow of death lurking within. Most of the characters seem to have all but forgotten the boy’s friend’s suicide—just like in real life, where we often miss the little details that matter most.

It’s chilling how the film compresses the lives of more than a dozen people into a single, fleeting news report—and watching the director’s entire trilogy back-to-back will send shivers down your spine.

The bad guys are way more fierce now, and the movie is overloaded with circus-style, acrobatic action scenes. Framed by a ’90s pop soundtrack, the film completely loses the exciting vibe that the first two installments had.

John Landis surprisingly directed this installment, delivering the most action-heavy and comedy-light entry in the series. It feels like a rookie effort—slow pacing, chaotic direction, and a missed opportunity with the amusement park setting. Instead of being a compelling movie, it feels more like a superficial tour, though the spider scene stands out, even if it’s just there for the thrill.

Shocking to watch, this is truly a masterpiece. It captures a vivid portrait of an era, offering profound social commentary. The film carefully examines modern life and reflects on pressing societal issues. I once believed A Brighter Summer Day and Yi Yi were Edward Yang’s peak works, but it turns out the highest peak was still ahead. Everyone is an island, and most of the time, we can't truly empathize with others.

After watching the movie, young people might feel like the world doesn’t accept or need them. One day, they’ll come to terms with that reality.

Two moments in the film truly moved me. First, there’s Beethoven at the piano, softly playing the “Moonlight Sonata” in a moment of fragile, untouched calm. Then, on his deathbed, he and Johanna Reiss share a silent reconciliation—a final, tender understanding. Gary Oldman is nothing short of flawless in both scenes: the close-ups capture every flicker of emotion, and paired with Beethoven’s music, it’s profoundly stirring. However, the film stumbles with its contrived romantic subplot, which pales in comparison to Oldman’s masterful performance.

When Ode to Joy plays, I can barely hold back tears... Initially, I thought Gary Oldman didn’t fit the role of Beethoven , but when I saw him pressing his ear against the piano, playing Moonlight Sonata, I was completely won over. That genius-and-prick personality, incredible passion, and slight neuroticism—who else could pull it off so perfectly other than Gary Oldman?

Claire Denis’ third film captures the alienation and drift of ’80s and ’90s metropolises life with uncanny precision. Insomnia haunts everyone—no one dares or can fall asleep because nobody’s ever truly found a home. Some people arrive but can’t stay; others want to leave but are trapped. Danger lurks around every corner, and unspoken words hang thick in the stale air. Though everyone seems stuck in their own world, they’re bound together in this invisible web of shared fate. Claire Denis is a master at telling stories without spelling everything out. She pushes the plot forward just enough, then shifts the camera, daring you to piece together what she leaves unspoken.

When the film throws us into a grisly murder scene, the camera sweeps through a cluttered, dimly lit room crawling with flies, lingering on body parts so decayed they’re barely recognizable and on withered hands. Claire Denis never focuses on the crime itself but instead turns her lens on the drifters on the fringes of the city—migrants, homosexuals, and transgender individuals—connecting these wanderers through the veil of night.

If I gave this movie ten stars, they'd all go to Ben Affleck! The slick script and editing, along with that surprising ending where the leads end up together, really won me over. The open-ended finale reminds me of life's endless possibilities.

I don’t understand why this story needed two hours. As a mainstream thriller, it’s missing the excitement and gripping moments you'd expect; as an art film, it doesn’t quite deliver the right atmosphere. That said, the actors’ performances and individual charisma keep it from feeling like a slog. I have to say, I loved the end-credits song. Oh, and by the way, Ben Affleck really does look like Robin van Persie in this!

Setting aside the lesbian theme, this is a heartwarming film about family. The cast is well-known and the story flows smoothly. But you can’t just ignore the lesbian aspect: two moms conceive two kids with the same man, and the siblings grow up healthy with only minor childhood squabbles. It never gets too troublesome, though, and in the end, it feels like any other family movie—and that’s a lovely thing.

The performances are top-notch and carry the film. The highly discussed theme is provocative and raises anticipation, but the movie still falls into some clichés.

This version excels at creating emotional depth and atmosphere, weaving together multiple scenes at a brisk pace—but in doing so, it loses some truly touching moments, like the scene where the male lead writes a love letter to Anne. The main downside is that Anne comes across as too meek, as if the director deliberately softened her to tug at our sympathy. Yet in the novel, Anne is gentle but strong. That final moment—Anne smiling at the camera while penning a letter—made me feel like I was seeing Jane Austen herself.

Compared to those Jane Austen adaptations that stray further from the novel to cater to modern tastes, this casting feels spot-on. Sally Hawkins delivers an excellent performance. The final run isn’t in the book, but I love it—it’s her shedding restraints and chasing her own happiness.

Tsai Ming-liang’s fixed camera angles are a kind of magic that ramps every ounce of desire to its breaking point!