Ediebalboa

A Japanese company wants to build a glamping centre in the countryside and the old-timers should just nod in agreement, because what more could you want than an influx of capital and Tokyo tourists. Wrong. The locals hold their own values, which are hard to grasp for city folk who have never touched an axe in their lives. Meanwhile, the corporate negotiators are no capitalist thieves (compared to, say, Europa), they just live, and even grew up, in a world far removed from that of the village. The cards are therefore dealt very promisingly, and Hamaguchi is not afraid to add his unique imprint to the mix. Normally I'm not a fan of long, wannabe artistic static shots, but here the thoughtful dosage of pacing and editing is crucial to portraying the contrast between the city and the countryside. Similarly, many of the lengthy passages from the opening only begin to take on significance as the film progresses. Indeed, as an actor here you really have to feel both the people and the natural elements. The whole thing creates an almost magical genius loci, where you're not sure if the locals' respect for nature is a bit irrational, or if it's justified and there's a punishment for not respecting it. By the end of the film, you'll have to find your own answer, but being there is definitely fascinating.

A good drama by the standards of London tower block stories, quite unique actually. One lonely man in a flat manages to pull off a spectacle I never dreamed of. Andrew Haigh has tweaked Taichi Yamada's premise for the 21st century and delivers an emotional charge both from a parenting perspective and through the equally important queer line. The acting needs little comment. Just look at the four main names in the credits. PS: Perhaps Paul Mescal is already starting to grow from an immature father into an adult gladiator with his charisma :)

Two hard heads who at first give each other absolutely nothing, but then itheir inner demons start to bring them together. Paul Giamatti and Dominic Sessa are a great central pairing who bring nothing new to the ring, but the confidence with which Alexander Payne leads them in a 1970s garb is impressive. Anyone who knows me a bit will suspect that I have a soft spot for this schoolboy micro-genre. Dead Poets Society, Scent of a Woman and Good Will Hunting are still the benchmarks of the best bedtime stories for me. The Holdovers probably doesn’t surpass the aforementioned except for the never-ending cadence of antique wisecracks. But just the fact that I can recommend it alongside those classics as a younger Christmas sibling in 2023 makes me immensely happy.

Things have never been easy with some Catholics, all the more so when the going got hard. The film tells the story of a kidnapped Jewish boy who was born in the wrong time under the wrong circumstances. As a premise for a big drama set against the backdrop of the Italian Risorgimento, it looks promising. Why then did I find the often unnecessarily overblown music the most dramatic? The boy experiences a lot in the first act, but after the first sermon, only the traditional brainwashing begins, which is not bad by any means, but gives little insight into the protagonist's psyche. The potentially interesting coming of age at the mercy of the Vatican is skipped altogether, as the film wants to have time for the courtroom drama and the gradual decline of this bankrupt state, and in the process, the main character literally fades away.

A woman shouting in a pub, a black cat crossing the road, an electric fence with bursting discharges, a stray poet walking along the cliffs and successfully creating new enemies... I don't know what else to write about this piece. Somewhere in the middle of it, reason will impart that if art can be described in words, it is no longer art. Okay, then this is indeed art, good work, assignment accomplished, except that I'm certainly not one of the piddling few viewers who can tune in or enjoy it in any way.

Léa Seydoux and George MacKay love each other, even though the AI says they shouldn't, and time travel is involved. On the whole, this rewarding premise delivers a story that probably wants to be as spectacular as Cloud Atlas was in its day. As a result we get two longer historical episodes of fluctuating pace. The central couple basically never leave the screen in either act, and they're nice to look at, it's just that despite a plethora of witty conversations about fear and impending disaster, I found the greater chemistry lacking for the fatefulness of the relationship. Similarly, the entire film tries to convey tension and urgency, but the scenes from the future where everything is supposed to culminate strike me as lacking any flavor, smell, or odor, despite their dystopian feel. Most interesting in the final summation is George as the world's most outraged 30-year-old virgin, but I doubt it was the makers' wish for him to be the only one stuck in my head a few days after the screening.

The costumes are great, the acting is unsurprisingly good (Jacob Elordi as Elvis is a hit), but the story is sterile. I know this is a film by the already mature Sofia Coppola, but still… Maybe I was expecting a return to the slightly wilder waters of Marie Antoinette's time? If you have already seen a romance or two, the development of Priscilla's relationship with Elvis will be fairly predictable without ever having heard of them before. Therefore, you have no choice but to look at the nice interior design. Thankfully, there aren’t any downright deaf spots, but for this intimate film being just under two hours long, I didn't learn noticeably more than I did last year from Baz Luhrmann about Priscilla's relationship with the King of Rock 'n' Roll.

Yorgos Lanthimos for the masses? They'll be showing it in theaters next month, and for my part, I'd love to see it. This Greek weirdo grows with each film he makes, proving that you can easily keep your distinctive signature while opening the gates of the mainstream. Art-wise, his latest release looks like an absolutely polished gem, helmed by Emma Stone, who here outdoes all her previous roles with her transformation from Bella as a toddler into a socially conscious woman. Whether it's her walk, her thoughts, her facial expressions or her physical quirks, she never leaves you in any doubt as to what mental stage she's in, and with only a wannabe adult Mark Ruffalo to back her up, there's no shortage of bizarre moments. At times the slapstick was traditionally too much for me from Yorgos, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't royally entertained for most of the running time.

After many years, Michael Mann has fulfilled his dream and he does so with honour. But I can't help feeling that if he had taken the time to make it in his golden era in the 1990s, the result would have been much more daring. After all, this film about the fastest cars of its time doesn't exactly pull off the double whammy, surprisingly, especially on the track. As far as the Italian household of Ferrari is concerned, it's two gears better there thanks to the diabolical Penélope Cruz. Outside of the domestic tussle, however, on a comparable budget to the 4-year-old Ford vs Ferrari, Ferrari alone delivers considerably less value in terms of scale, suspense and action (the outlined rivalry with Maserati is just worthy of this bracket). Yes, the Millie Miglia was a completely different motorsport event from Le Mans, but the drama is always created by the racers themselves anyway, andin Mann's rendition they are bland. A great shame given the otherwise historically turbulent development of this race.

This will be hard. I'd have no problem recommending The Old Oak to anyone, but my cynical self prevents me from rating it better than slightly above average. Despite the fact that I agree with its basic idea, the problem is the tear-jerking. The film has a number of passages where I can't get past their naivety, and some of the major twists are also handled too haphazardly, such as the dog, saviour of the drowning. Everything then loses credibility from the point of view of the story, and it feels more like a melodrama with elements of a fairytale than today's world in the suburbs of Newcastle, Blackpool, Sunderland and generally all parts of Britain, where all sorts of things are spoken, but don’t expect too much English. The almost exemplarily authentic pub regulars in the film are a beautiful testament to this.