Cyrano is an uneven film that at points reaches some of the bold bravado its titular character expresses in his wordplay, but as often doesn’t really linger in the memory.
It’s 2035 and the government has levied a tax on the objects you see in your dreams, which you store and upload off memory sticks. Nattily tweed-coated auditor James Preble (Kentucker Audley) doesn’t like it any more than you would.
Ellis has made it very clear that the emotional core of the film is the suffering of marginalized, displaced, and slaughtered people. Why then are we spending the bulk of the run time supposedly rooting for those who benefit from that slaughter?
With not only Melvin’s Jamaican family, but also the inclusion of characters of African descent, the film exhibits the multiculturalism of Black London that isn’t often shown onscreen.
It’s an unoriginal story told with predictable dialogue, but it’s not as bad as nails on a blackboard.
The accompanying footage—of student life, of the protests, of that violence—is made to look artsy rather than realistic. It’s rather distracting and almost makes the occurrences seem fictitious.
It’s hard to find the romance in this love story. There’s no distracting from Lopez and Wilson’s lack of chemistry, and the fact that their characters have nothing in common save for this: they’re lonely.
The composer’s film deviates from the standard sci-fi film adaptation by dropping excessive special effects currently oversaturating the genre. Instead, Jóhansson redesigns the classic sci-fi story as a prose poem, delivered as a transmission to us: the first humans.
Basholli’s film is a gorgeous and tightly crafted work of realism, capturing the struggles and hopes of the community through lingering camerawork.
Chicagoan Ramona Slick has curated a monthly meeting place for Chicago’s film nerds and queer community. In December, the erotic performer and queer burlesque dancer debuted a new event series, […]
CJFC’s New Year’s Screening asks an American audience to consider the frailty and necessity of art in a mire of human difficulty and loneliness.
You’ll see this movie and decide for yourself if the stunts are just juvenile brain-poison and nothing else.
Thank Saint Valentine for the artists who make us laugh.
This is for people who want to see landscapes blow up and large things dropped onto other large things. Those are the only pleasures on offer.
The framing device of setting different stories in the same location is a well-worn trope, but it works beautifully here, lending a starting point for three very different visions.