Reviews

From the moment the octopus extended her tentacle to interact with fish and humans to the poignant ending, I found myself quietly shedding tears. Call it survival instinct or something more, but that small gesture transcends mere existence. Two solitary beings formed a fragile connection, leaving a lasting imprint on one another, even if their fates remained unchanged.

For two hours, we were able to contemplate a wonderful time. I am definitely not talking about the end of the 19th century. The wonderful time when we were shocked by Ford Coppola's films, and not by Ford Coppola's actions.

Martin, in 161 mins, you made Catholics, Buddhists and atheists look bad. I love you very much, thank you

A man decides to cross what his colleagues would call "professional ethics" to start an ambitious project.
I'm not talking about the therapist, I'm talking about Lars.

As a gamer, I’ve noticed that China has been developing some amazing games recently, one of them being BLACK MYTH: WUKONG, one of the biggest games of 2024. Now they’ve made a movie that is breaking all kinds of records. NE ZHA 2, an animated movie based on the 16th-century novel Investiture of the Gods, was released in China just a couple of weeks ago, making approximately $1.1 billion while costing just $85 million. Now it has made its way around the world. I’m so happy my dad made me aware of this one. Having watched the 2019 original NE ZHA just a few days ago, I was fully prepared. NE ZHA 2 is what every sequel should be: better in every way. Spoken in Mandarin with English subtitles, this continues the story of Ne Zha, a young demon boy trying to find his place in the world. After the events of NE ZHA, he embarks on a journey to save his best friend Ao Bing by going through trials to obtain an elixir. The best thing about this movie is the world-building and lore. It’s so rich and detailed that it draws you in from the very beginning. Speaking of rich and detailed, the animation is literally the best I’ve ever seen, using a self-developed dynamic ink-wash rendering engine. This makes it look like you’re watching Chinese art in motion. This is what happens when you utilize 4000 animators across 138 companies. Not only does NE ZHA 2 have an amazing sense of scale, but its story is also deeply emotional with high stakes, with both hilarious and sad scenes. NE ZHA 2 is actually the 3rd installment in the Fengshen Universe, which also includes a spin-off called JIANG ZIYA. This animated movie was made with everyone in mind. Younger kids might not understand the complexities of some of the themes, but everybody should check this out. NE ZHA 2 is one of my favourite movies of 2025 so far. I’m learning that I’m fascinated by Asian mythology, and I am now eagerly awaiting the next installment!

"Abbott Elementary" weaves a cheerful narrative centered around the education system. Despite its short episodes, the characters are vividly portrayed and endlessly entertaining. The male lead, with his cartoonish resemblance to a "Simpsons" character, brings an inherent comedic charm. Each episode’s main conflict feels grounded and mirrors real-world challenges in the education sector, making it both relatable and thought-provoking.

Drawing from techniques seen in low-budget horror and monster films, the movie excels in its slow-burn buildup, suspense, and immersive ambiance. While some might find the pacing sluggish, I found it captivating. The director seems inspired by "Jaws," where the unseen monster is far more terrifying. Godzilla’s delayed reveal heightens the unease, subtly immersing the audience in a growing sense of dread.

The film maintains David Cronenberg’s signature standard, with cinematography and lighting that feel exquisitely crafted. While the philosophical inquiry into the human condition isn’t groundbreaking, it never feels clichéd. A more restrained or precise approach to dialogue might have made the film more accessible, as it currently introduces an overwhelming number of concepts unique to Cronenberg’s vision.

It’s a loose adaptation as the director tries to rework the original’s framework into an entirely new story. With that comes a shift in thematic focus—political allegory, feminist undertones, and religious symbolism are woven into the narrative. While it doesn’t use color as aggressively as the original to evoke fear, its audiovisual elements remain striking, with the score being a particular highlight. The film’s most memorable moments likely come from its ritualistic dance sequences, which exude an eerie, ceremonial power.

Conjoined twins and dissociative identity disorder were still quite bold subjects in the 1970s, and the director crafts an impeccably suspenseful atmosphere. From the split-screen murder sequence to voyeuristic camera angles and black-and-white flashbacks, the film’s meticulous construction is evident in every detail. The journalist’s complete dismissal of the case at the end serves as a scathing indictment of the police’s utter incompetence.

The film marks a stylistic departure from the director’s usual style. The use of handheld cameras and intercut visuals interrupting conversations deviate from his long-established approach, introducing a new layer of ambiguity. The old poet lavishes praise on two women outside the hotel, yet the overexposed snowy riverbank and slightly shaky camera suggest an undercurrent of insincerity. When he laughs awkwardly once again, I could feel an overwhelming sense of melancholy creeping in.

Filip’s journey moves from documenting his married life to capturing the factory and society around him, and ultimately, to an introspective examination of himself. The film ends abruptly as he turns the camera on himself—what happens to him next remains unknown. All we are left with is the quiet resignation of an ordinary man, grappling with life’s constraints in a world that offers no easy answers.

The film’s attempt at horror is passable, aided by decent sound and visual effects. The ambush sequences in the dark are chilling, but the werewolf's overly fantastical portrayal and the overly contrived father-daughter dynamic detract from the overall impact.

As a defining work of its era, the film showcases Hollywood at its finest, from its script to its production design, cinematography, and score. The music plays a particularly crucial role—its sweet jazz soundtrack rarely pauses, continuously shaping the mood and atmosphere. Only in a few intimate indoor scenes does the music momentarily stop, allowing the audience to focus entirely on the characters’ emotions and actions.

The film covers a broad spectrum of societal concerns, from urban planning to minor issues like parking fines. It presents the minutiae of Boston City Hall’s day-to-day activities, exposing the hollow rhetoric of politicians and the endless meetings, while highlighting the how interactions with the normal citizens are the genuine features of the city hall.

Arguably the darkest and coldest portrayal of Ripley yet, the film’s simplified and stereotyped characterizations make it less than compelling. However, the actors’ strong and nuanced performances elevate the otherwise flat roles. While the film works as a standard crime thriller, its haunting score deserves special praise.

The plot is overly simplistic. In the earlier films, resurrecting Imhotep required immense effort. Here, the young protagonist stumbles upon the emperor’s tomb with laughable ease, making the discovery feel far too convenient. Additionally, the booby traps in this so-called imperial tomb lack any ingenuity compared to the elaborate dangers of previous installments. The lack of attention to detail makes the film feel halfhearted and uninspired.

The film takes a lighthearted and humorous approach to storytelling, using the chaos of wedding planning as its narrative backbone. The director employs classic comedic techniques—misunderstandings, coincidences, and over-the-top situations—to enhance its entertainment value. The pacing is well-balanced, alternating between moments of tension and heartfelt exchanges, keeping the audience engaged throughout.

The film’s poster is rich with details, depicting the buildings and windows within Caden’s theatrical world. Each window represents a person and a story in New York, yet because everyone is confined to their own window, they remain blind to the full picture of others' lives. Even the film’s title is boxed into separate window panes—isolated yet forming a cohesive whole, much like the film itself.