My girlfriend accused me of harboring too much nostalgia for the animated classic, and that must be why I kind of disliked this visual feast of a remake(?).
Maybe? I don't even remember loving the cartoon that much. But it was when I searched for clips on YouTube that my memory was refreshed and I realized why I was comparing the old Jungle Book to the new Jungle Book to the latter's detriment: The level of Playfulness. My expectations of…
You know, this actually made sense to me. I was bracing for a fevered surrealist nightmare, but this felt much more like a coherent narrative than anything else.
I found myself eerily reminded of Bergman's Persona more than once - was that just me? Not only a sense that the two lead women might just be the same person, but a similarly energetic claustrophobia that pulsates in the silences between them. There's sexual energy, but there's also sincere compassion and…
I get it. I finally know what the hell Lars is doing.
Okay. So firstly, this so-called conclusion to the "Golden Heart Trilogy" is basically the standard by which all polarizing films should be measured. It's just that divisive. I felt my star rating dropping from five to zero and back again, more times than I could count. Of course by this point the star rating is unnecessary and silly, and it's obvious that we have a winner. Lars von…