the devil, where is prada?
Has there been a biopic that's as pointed as this? There was a cutthroat betrayal of what we expect of this material, to rely on the intentions to cut deeper and heavily beguile the audience on its intent. Yet Coppola cut the remissions of this story to helm a period that works a gamut of observations from the source material, and to stitch a precise depiction of what, when, and how Priscilla was. Jacob Elordi was a rocket as Elvis; Cailee Spaeny the jet initiator, for all its worth. A
Fun parts peppered across and my mild disappointment is not about the leads and the cast (who are all in it for the goofiness, esp Havana Rose Liu) but the absurd comedy from its writing. It’s so serious when it jokes about silly tropes and topics, yet reaches heights of millennial joke overkill when it talks about ideas. I laughed through and through though. C-
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
Monteras II had great mise en scène. But I was angered by its treatment of a fairly problematic appropriation on the conventions of the hip-hop scene that in itself is anti-gay and anti-women. You have an anti-hero at its center whose determination skewed schematic moments of character development (i.e. his idea of cypher would be to vilify a woman about her weight; he let a woman be raped and in his introspection, just cried! ("i can't do anything," he wailed,…
A smoldering treat. Marcos era as rape? The story is almost drowning in message and metaphor but Brocka packs every punch to details and direction. The camera work is divine, and cast is respectable in every measures. Titular Insiang, Koronel defined a role that marked her as a star and a real actress. Vernal was sexy and wily as oppressive Dado. But applause should be handed to Mona Lisa as the mother boiling of hot meshes of betrayal. A classic. A