Prompted by Jason Di Rosso's interview with director/co-writer Olivier Assayas (Irma Vep (1996)). Based on a novel by Giuliano Da Empoli. Emmanuel Carrère helped with the adaptation.
The idea was to take a look at how present-day Russia emerged from the Yeltsin era under Putin, coming at it from the view of confected "wizard of the Kremlin" Vadim Baranov (who I later read is a fictionalisation of Vadislav Surkov). He's played by Paul Dano who does not succeed in the lead. Dano delivers tonnes of exposition in a style that is intended to be coldly insinuating. He somehow lands manic pixie dream squeaky party girl Alicia Vikander who is tasked with breaking up the sausagefest. She knows what she wants (excess) but I was never convinced Dano could satisfy that, and she never seemed to enjoy her spoils anyway. For reasons often unknown she just disappears from large parts of the movie.
But the main draw was Jude Law who does function very effectively as Putin. He got the body language down and the brutality, opacity and sheer rapacious vacuity of the ideology across; it seems at this time Putin is paranoid but not as (insecurely) paranoid as he appears to be now. He too lacks much outward expression of the joy of being the new Tzar. Things flag whenever he's not on the screen.
Beyond the obvious decline in civil liberties the movie fails to explain what really changed since the 1990s; apparently it's just a game of oligarchs underpinned by some emotional manipulation of the masses, a fending-off of Western influence in Ukraine. The present-day framing interview with Jeffrey Wright seemed inessential. The visual metaphors are crass. Yorick Le Saux's cinematography is uninspired which is weird as he did far better with, for instance, Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), Little Women (2019), and Blitz (2024).
Glenn Kenny at Roger Ebert's venue: three-and-a-half stars.
Kindle. Eventually inevitable due to the gravitation of Malick's movie (1998).
This is Jones's take on the Guadacanal campaign of 1942/1943 that was "the first major Allied land offensive against Japan" of World War II. (Guadalancal, for those of us born long after, is one of the Solomon Islands.) It's relentless, well written, never boring, sometimes hilarious and yet somehow not as iconic as Joseph Heller's Catch-22 (1961); Witt is a bit like Yossarian in being doctrinaire but is not as overtly philosophical about it. (Perhaps the relative lack of enduring recognition is because, like Milton Friedman and the money supply, everything reminds Jones of sex.) The cast of characters initially seems daunting but are sufficiently distinct that they're not hard to follow. His deft treatment of PTSD ("combat numbess") was perhaps novel at the time.
Goodreads. Maxwell Geismar at the New York Times at the time.
Prompted by Jason Di Rosso's interview with co-writer/director Yeon Sang-ho (Train to Busan (2016), Peninsula (2020)) who has made yet another zombie flick. Choi Kyu-seok helped him out with the script. Jun Ji-hyun (Assassination (2015)) led. Generally underbaked.
For generic reasons of revenge mad genius bio-scientist Koo Hyo-hwan cooks up a "virus" and a "vaccine" and proceeds to inconvenience not only the attendees of a biotech conference (where the colony concept is explained to us by Steve Jobs-ish CEO Kom Jeong-tae) but also the civilians in the shopping mall in a high-rise building in Seoul. The survivors/counter-revengers, quasi-led by strong-willed scientist Jun Ji-hyun, dwindle by the numbers. Much of the plot hinges on highly suspect reasoning; for instance, how do the responders even know there's a vaccine? Quite often the players (human and post/sub-human) hang around, inexplicably inert, waiting for a cue. Pretty much all of the characters suck. The ending threatened a sequel. Bring me the zombie king.
I wish the Koreans would get around to remaking Shaun of the Dead (2004).
Clint Worthington at Roger Ebert's venue: two-and-a-half stars. The zombie genre has seen a lot of innovation including the conceit used here. Seongyong Cho: two-and-a-half stars, "another typical zombie movie which does not surprise me a lot." Fungal not viral.
Written and directed by Michael Haneke. Drug up for reasons unknown; perhaps for Juliette Binoche who leads with Daniel Auteuil or maybe because the precis evoked the early parts of Lost Highway (1997). I did not understand this movie.
Video tapes (how quaint) mysteriously arrive on the doorstep of the middle-class Parisian couple that contain surveillance footage referring to unshared events in the man's childhood. Their son is becoming more troublesome as he undergoes puberty (no other motivation is provided). The police are mostly as disinterested as I was.
The characters are weak stereotypes; Binoche made the most sense as a bewildered wife. Husband Auteuil is mystifying. The couple inhabits a highly-paid literary fantasy land that has surely been eroded by now. Both are so quick to jump to conclusions and stand on their own amour-propre that we rarely get access to anything factual. I guess this is one way for the guilty to respond when challenged (guilt being an obvious theme of the movie) but it is unsatisfying that so many scenes dragged on or replayed earlier scenes with minor variations. I was not engrossed and things did not conclude satisfactorily; it wasn't so much that the plot dangles as the motivations remained opaque or trivial. For instance, why did Maurice Bénichou (Majid) cut his own throat at that plot-convenient time?
The cinematography is harshly digital, of a piece with the video tapes. Most of the movie is dialogue in tell-don't-show mode.
Roger Ebert: four stars at the time and another four stars as a "great movie". A. O. Scott wants it to be deeper than it is. Wikipedia. All claim the mystery of who sent the tapes is answered in the final shot — I was too impatient for it to be over to scan the frame sufficiently but apparently it was the sons wot did it — and if that was the (trite) intention then we needed to see more of the other characters.
