So how did “Ravenous” survive this tumult to become such a delectable conclusion-of-the-century treat? In a beautiful scenario of life imitating art, the film’s cast mutinied against Raja Gosnell, leaving actor Robert Carlyle with a taste for blood and the power needed to insist that Fox employ the service of his frequent collaborator Antonia Fowl to take over behind the camera.
To anyone acquainted with Shinji Ikami’s tortured psyche, however — his daddy issues and severe doubts of self-worth, in addition to the depressive anguish that compelled Shinji’s genuine creator to revisit the kid’s ultimate choice — Anno’s “The End of Evangelion” is nothing less than a mind-scrambling, fourth-wall-demolishing, soul-on-the-monitor meditation around the upside of suffering. It’s a self-portrait of the artist who’s convincing himself to stay alive, no matter how disgusted he might be with what that entails.
This is all we know about them, nonetheless it’s enough. Because once they find themselves in danger, their loyalty to each other is what sees them through. At first, we don’t see who may have taken them—we just see Kevin being lifted from the trunk of an auto, and Bobby being left behind to kick and scream through the duct tape covering his mouth. Clever child that he is, while, Bobby finds a method to break free and run to safety—only to hear Kevin’s screams echoing from a giant brick house within the hill behind him.
The film’s neon-lit first part, in which Kaneshiro Takeshi’s handsome pineapple obsessive crosses paths with Brigitte Lin’s blonde-wigged drug-runner, drops us into a romantic underworld in which starry-eyed longing and sociopathic violence brush within centimeters of each other and reduce themselves inside the same tune that’s playing within the jukebox.
23-year-aged Aditya Chopra didn’t know his 1995 directorial debut would go down in film history. “Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge” — known to fans around the world as “DDLJ” — holds its title given that the longest jogging film ever; almost three many years have passed since it first strike theaters, and it’s still playing in Mumbai.
Montenegro became the first — and still only — Brazilian actor for being nominated for an Academy Award, and Salles’ two-hander reaches the sublime because de Oliveira, at his young age, summoned a powerful concoction of mixed emotions. Profoundly touching however never saccharine, Salles’ breakthrough ends with a fitting testament to the idea that some memories never fade, even as our indifferent world continues to spin forward. free oorn —CA
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She grew up observing her acclaimed filmmaker father Mohsen Makhmalbaf as he directed and edited his work, and he is credited alongside his daughter as being a co-author on her glorious debut, “The Apple.”
Tarr has never been an overtly political filmmaker (“Politics makes everything as well easy and primitive for me,” he told IndieWire in 2019, insisting that he was more interested in “social instability” and “poor people who never experienced a chance”), but revisiting the hypnotic “Sátántangó” now that Hungary is in the thrall of another authoritarian leader demonstrates both the recursive arc of recent history, and the full power of Tarr’s sinister parable.
I have to rewatch it, because I'm not sure if I received everything right in terms of dynamics. I might say that surely was an intentional move through the script writer--to enhance the theme of reality and play blurring. Ingenious--as well as confusing.
The magic of Leconte’s monochromatic fairy tale, a Fellini-esque throwback that fizzes along the Mediterranean coast with the madcap Electricity of the “Lupin the III” episode, begins with the fact that Gabor doesn’t even try (the pornstars recent flimsiness of his knife-throwing local sex videos act indicates an impotence of the different kind).
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A movie with transgender leads played by transgender actresses, this film established a fresh gold standard for casting LGBTQ movies with LGBTQ performers. In accordance with Variety
When Satoshi Kon died from pancreatic cancer in 2010 at the tragically premature age of 46, not only did the film world get rid of considered one of its greatest storytellers, it also lost amongst its most gifted seers. Not a soul experienced a more correct grasp on how the digital age would see fiction and reality bleed into each other on the most private levels of human perception, and all four in the wildly different features that he made in his transient career (along with his masterful Tv set show, “Paranoia Agent”) are bound together by a shared preoccupation with the fragility with the self from the shadow of mass media.