Brixton-based badly raised Radley Blaise. Only the hottest, most obvious takes x
Top 4 are just some of my recent 5s, no biggie
Ever watched Psycho and thought, can I have some more? De Palma has you sorted. More narrative fakeouts. More blood. More pregnant pauses on moments of everyday process. Of course, it’s not up to Hitchcock’s lofty standards, but this is still a thoroughly juicy picture, loaded with carefully blocked and choreographed cat-and-mouse sequences and a particularly effective and leering use of split focus lenses. The highly telegraphed “twist” and the implicit transphobia leave a sour taste, but that’s what you get for paying such close homage to a classic in a modern context. Cl
What a beautiful debut. The failings of modern social realist cinema (I’m thinking particularly latter-era Ken Loach) are found in the filmmakers’ apparent desperation to hit home a Very Important message, dwelling on the most miserable aspects of their subjects’ existence. Its not just poverty porn, its poverty porn propaganda. Thankfully Satyajit Ray’s first film covers a far wider range of life and experience for the impoverished family at the centre of its story, without ever pulling any punches when…
This is Bresson at his most totally unadorned, laying out the events as historically told in a polar opposite manner to the emotive assault of Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc. In both instances the title says it all. What’s remarkable is that by shooting each preceding moment with such little affect, the final sequence following Joan’s execution upon the pyre feels akin to seeing a heavenly body, Bresson holding tight on a cross head aloft by two dead-eyed priests as the smoke curls up towards it. Not his best certainly, but a clear exercise in formal restraint nonetheless.
Something about pairing basketball and Adam Sandler seems to go down oh-so-right. With its endless (-ly entertaining) training sequences Hustle acts as The Sandman’s final proof for Eisenstein’s theories on the power of montage, belligerently coaxing its audience into caring about a scrappy stock pair of underdogs—and damn if it isn’t effective in its formula. More workmanlike American everyman cinema like this please.