It’s star-studded, and the edits often wink at the audience, but it’s not so fun being in on the joke this time around.
The plot is basically, “Hey kids, let’s put on a show!,” but with marvelously anthropomorphized animals and Vegas-worthy production values.
The film presents a beautifully bleak vision of doomed political ambition which ultimately shows that, even when fascists are incompetent, their ruthlessness creates irredeemable suffering.
What del Toro so strikingly presents is a morality tale of how the desire to rectify the past can overwhelm our best judgment in the present, leading to disastrous consequences.
The Matrix Resurrections is a breath of fresh air in a time when reboots are a dime a dozen.
It’s a rather glorious mess of a film.
The result is an often frustrating, convoluted vérité-style documentary that conflates access with intimacy. Stans may be wooed by the promise of never-before-seen footage, but anyone unfamiliar with Jarad Higgins and his music will likely be lost.
What it dispenses in salaciousness fails to account for the lack of any meaningful undercurrent that might make the vulgarity interesting.
Lauren Hadaway’s The Novice is a powerful look at compulsion.
Paolo Sorrentino has made more luscious films, but he’s never made a more personal one.
While not a perfect film, National Champions does express the discourse around an important issue in a compelling way.
The film isn’t perfect by any means, but the new version rights many of the most egregious wrongs of the original.
George MacKay’s presence and physicality is perhaps one of the most compelling aspects of the film.
It feels like a phone call that could have been a text.
It should be called House of Gaga.