-- a selection of short-form reviews of the films I have watched this week --
Eighth Grade (dir. Bo Burnham, 2018)
✭✭✭✭✩
Commenting on ‘The Smiths’ song There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, Russell Brand imagined Morrisey’s romantic ode as a tragedy of the boy staring at his bedroom ceiling and feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Eighth Grade – the first directorial endeavour from Bo Burnham –continues in a similar rhythm, adolescent struggles now projected into the contemporary age of social media – the networks of YouTube, Instagram and Snapchat the only platforms in which to find connection or familiarity. As if sister to the online devastations in Jason Reitman’s wonderful Men, Women & Children, Burnham confidently navigates the presence of Kayla Day (played by Elsie Fisher) through her production of vlogs – the sole viewer being her friend, Gabe – and her mute, shunting figure in the school corridors.Eighth Grade is one of the most soulful and endearing features to be released this year, brimming with laughter, ache and the frustrations of growing into the world. A unique, sweet and intelligent portrait of growth.
Commenting on ‘The Smiths’ song There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, Russell Brand imagined Morrisey’s romantic ode as a tragedy of the boy staring at his bedroom ceiling and feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Eighth Grade – the first directorial endeavour from Bo Burnham –continues in a similar rhythm, adolescent struggles now projected into the contemporary age of social media – the networks of YouTube, Instagram and Snapchat the only platforms in which to find connection or familiarity. As if sister to the online devastations in Jason Reitman’s wonderful Men, Women & Children, Burnham confidently navigates the presence of Kayla Day (played by Elsie Fisher) through her production of vlogs – the sole viewer being her friend, Gabe – and her mute, shunting figure in the school corridors.Eighth Grade is one of the most soulful and endearing features to be released this year, brimming with laughter, ache and the frustrations of growing into the world. A unique, sweet and intelligent portrait of growth.
La double vie de Véronique “The Double Life of Veronique” (dir. Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1991)
✭✭✭✭✭
Achieving another pearl in the small oeuvre of acclaimed writer-director Krzysztof Kieslowski, The Double Life of Veronique is a spellbinding feast of colour and feeling, a cosmic odyssey through the cities of Kraków and Paris. Irène Jacob – later reimagined in the troubled, female souls of the Three Colours trilogy – moves through the picture as both Weronika, a Polish choir soprano, and her seeming double, Véronique, a French music teacher. Two lives that are somehow one, their stories are shown to brush and echo – each woman falls in love, following intrigue and choice – but also resist, their lives asymmetrical (in running-time, as well as romantic allure) and destined for greater definition outside of their own twinning. Elusive storytelling is pathed in the highly-stylised, ethereal lens of Kieslowski’s world, the camera at once the vision of two women falling through life and then again our own. Images haunt and instil life in a film that respires with beauty.
Achieving another pearl in the small oeuvre of acclaimed writer-director Krzysztof Kieslowski, The Double Life of Veronique is a spellbinding feast of colour and feeling, a cosmic odyssey through the cities of Kraków and Paris. Irène Jacob – later reimagined in the troubled, female souls of the Three Colours trilogy – moves through the picture as both Weronika, a Polish choir soprano, and her seeming double, Véronique, a French music teacher. Two lives that are somehow one, their stories are shown to brush and echo – each woman falls in love, following intrigue and choice – but also resist, their lives asymmetrical (in running-time, as well as romantic allure) and destined for greater definition outside of their own twinning. Elusive storytelling is pathed in the highly-stylised, ethereal lens of Kieslowski’s world, the camera at once the vision of two women falling through life and then again our own. Images haunt and instil life in a film that respires with beauty.
La fille inconnue “The Unknown Girl” (dir. Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, 2016)
✭✭✩✩✩
Adèle Haenel is the prime subject of what constitutes a disinterested, bored thriller about moral responsibility and ethnic marginality. After being informed of her own, indirect guilt in denying an immigrant access to the surgery – later found dead at the dockside, her skull fractured – hard-working doctor, Jenny David, leads her own quest into uncovering what truly happened. Haunted by what could have been, David slips into the guise of the Inspector who Calls, seeking truth and clarity in the urban backdrop of France. An aqua-marine colour pallet brings nothing fresh to this tiresome feature.
Adèle Haenel is the prime subject of what constitutes a disinterested, bored thriller about moral responsibility and ethnic marginality. After being informed of her own, indirect guilt in denying an immigrant access to the surgery – later found dead at the dockside, her skull fractured – hard-working doctor, Jenny David, leads her own quest into uncovering what truly happened. Haunted by what could have been, David slips into the guise of the Inspector who Calls, seeking truth and clarity in the urban backdrop of France. An aqua-marine colour pallet brings nothing fresh to this tiresome feature.
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