Eva has written 102 reviews for films during 2019.

  • The Blair Witch Project

    The Blair Witch Project


    on the violent impositions of movie-making, the mere force of a video camera's gaze enough to draw out a hidden evil in the placidity of an essentially anonymous landscape. baffled that anyone could watch this and demand less talking, less arguing, because honestly there's nothing more purely dread-inducing here than the pointless circumambulations that people engage in when they're terrified and have no fucking clue what they're doing. the terror is built with negative space, visually and narratively, the absences…

  • Don't Look Now

    Don't Look Now

    grief fills the world with strangeness and terror, rising from the ground like swirling fog, wrapping a tale of marital woe and loss in its curling, mythopoeic eddies. the pursuit of ghosts is labyrinthine and impossible: at the end its winding progression reveals nothing other than our own desperate heart turned against itself. wild movie tbh

  • Audition


    what stands out most to me is the whirling phantasmagoria of the middle section, bridging the warm-hued patriarchal fantasy of the first hour and the cynical hyperviolent self-castigation of the last twenty minutes in a gesture that deflates both the (almost noirish?) libidinal probing of Aoyama's ego and the various mythologies he attempts to hang on Asami's image. she is victim and victimizer, sex object and domestic servant, empty vessel and overburdened signifier, each and every configuration colliding like tectonic…

  • May


    lovely, small movie about real loneliness, which is so seldom treated with this much care and attention on film. jarringly ferocious montage pulls away at the threads of what might otherwise be a relatively unobtrusive indie comedy until the depth of our heroine's desperation has nothing left to hide behind, all the patchwork clothes and fake loves and affected cheeriness dead in the freezer with the cat. really fucking sad and really fucking sweet, can't decide which is more important. if you can't find a friend, make one!

  • Lake Mungo

    Lake Mungo


    by all accounts a movie i should adore, and definitely one whose merits i can appreciate: the recreation of the format and style of a particular kind of documentary is so skillful that it only plays its hand as something else in the smallest of aesthetic choices, holding a shot just a bit too long or intercutting with just slightly more potency than its referents, and the emotional intelligence on display is obviously sophisticated, even revelatory at times. but i…

  • Vitalina Varela

    Vitalina Varela


    Costa continues the transformation he began to effect on his own cinema in Horse Money, reshaping the slums of Lisbon from a realistically understood and concretized space into an oneiric nightmare suspended in the inhospitable threshold between the trauma of history and the myriad personal traumas of the dispossessed residents. shoddy cement structures rise like crooked tombstones and reach into what seems to be an eternal darkness, while the lines between interior and exterior disintegrate, each building seemingly bleeding into…

  • Midsommar



    prestige tv

  • Halloween



    Michael Myers digs old tools of harm out of the rotting shell of a domesticity he once knew primarily as just a vehicle for inflicting spiritual violence. is it any wonder he tries to reassemble a family by making corpses and digging up tombstones? Laurie Strode nearly tears herself apart crawling and climbing through his nightmare dollhouse of failed connection, until all she can do is scream, dripping with blood and with a face painted shock-white by dust. Zombie's sequel…

  • The Funeral

    The Funeral


    at the fringes of capitalism and the rotting core of masculinity a series of violent traumas perpetually reinscribe themselves through several generations. frigid Catholic dogmatism falls from the characters' lips throughout and yet its promises and vituperations seem a world apart from these lives of mundane and solipsistic brutality, made tangible only in the inscrutable encroachment of their own mortality. futurity is rejected at the end, but with the same violent means it was once destructively enforced, and the women are left to stitch the semblance of a life back together

  • The Brood

    The Brood

    psychiatry as emotional vampirism, drawing blood from old wounds that has to go somewhere, and so of course it refashions the past into even more grotesque new shapes. family is a curse you've put on each other, and all you can do is make increasingly depraved images of your own rage and hurt in miniature until they finally destroy everything you love and you end up as a pitiable monster begging to die. gutting cinema, clearly the product of real pain

  • The Box

    The Box


    keeps appending increasingly baroque moving parts to what was already a fairly complex narrative machine until we feel almost as suffocated as the characters themselves, and ends up as a very moving aestheticization of the violence inflicted in service of maintaining the comfortably upper-middle class family unit, recognizing it as both material, deeply embedded in nationalist frameworks, and inextricably spiritual. after we have thoroughly destroyed each other something worth living for is promised to us in death, “a place where the sidewalk ends and despair is no longer the governor of the human heart”. infinite worlds possible

  • Mysterious Skin

    Mysterious Skin

    Gregg Araki leaves behind the brash expressivity and amateurish immediacy of his earlier work and explores emotionally direct, almost ordinary filmmaking for the first time, quite successfully. cycles and epicycles of abuse crash against typically Araki-an preoccupations with suburbia and millennial conspiracism, which then become recontextualized as toxic microcosm and failed coping mechanism, respectively. the empathy here is really something, miraculous because it asks for no forgiveness and understands that breaking free requires none. nothing coheres by the end but of course it shouldn’t: Brady Corbet’s nose is still bleeding