Eva has written 66 reviews for films with no rating.

  • Big Trouble in Little China

    Big Trouble in Little China

    only a dream can kill a dream: the fantasies of wuxia bubble up from beneath the surface of Jack Burton's sunny All-American dream as if to claim revenge for the stolen labor of untold numbers of immigrants on whose backs California was built. and who could claim they don't succeed? poor Jack is humiliated, alone, and tragically convinced of his own heroism while better and stronger men around him dance through neon abstractions and kill half-tangible evils he can't even comprehend. can't think of a better tribute to Tsui Hark than a breezily constructed martial arts comedy about the delusions of men who believe they're heroes

  • Rio Bravo

    Rio Bravo

    has the greatest moments of quiet of any film i've seen: whole movies could be made about the changes that occur when these most human of characters stop speaking and you'd never run out of material. predicts and surpasses every action movie, every male melodrama, honestly every film that was to follow.
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  • The Ward

    The Ward

    wild that this is considered lesser Carpenter (let alone a bad movie) when it furtively inverts the structure of the slasher and uses it to disassemble the mythologized and otherwise concealed nihilism that low-rent ghost stories, asylum horror, etc. tend to offer as a response to female trauma. that it manages to not only perform these acrobatic feats of deconstruction but also is so restlessly paced and economical in its delineation of spaces is a minor miracle, at least.

  • The Happening

    The Happening

    the anomie and self-destruction of the US in the aughts parlayed into the more abstract catastrophes of a looming climate apocalypse, which itself only stands for an even more totalizing and unintelligible rejection of humanity by nature. particularly notable in Shyamalan’s oeuvre for the way it juxtaposes some of his bleakest moments of comedy (“my firearm is my friend!”, Wahlberg begging a plastic fern to spare him) with an increasingly potent motif of desperate touch which always antecedes loss. isolated…

  • Sucker Punch

    Sucker Punch

    had no idea my dude Snyder could make something like this repulsive, thorny rejoinder to predominating cultural notions of how 'empowerment' and catharsis operate in genre, here imprisoning their subjects in a diegetically pseudo-pornographic fantasy which can ultimately offer those caught in its spell nothing but mindless passivity as an end. anyone who survives with their personhood intact in these patriarchal conditions does so by chance and tremendous sacrifice, alone. honestly surprised me, i resisted it the whole way but it ends up in a place that's surprisingly coherent and strangely necessary

  • The Blind Owl

    The Blind Owl

    a displaced man enters a movie theater (surrounded by Orientalist images) that only shows the cinema of Orientalist images. he is remade by these images even as he remakes them; the colonial subject is first fetishized and then dismembered, but she always drifts back to him, even in pieces. Raul Ruiz’s zombie movie, a film of rotting bodies shambling around through dreams and afterlifes (it remains unclear which is which). undeniably grotesque and monstrous, decomposing as it goes, and yet infinitely pleasurable in how the progress of decay becomes just another excuse for increasingly elusive Ruizian transformations

    "this is my god"

  • Magic Mike XXL

    Magic Mike XXL

    even if ultimately this is just as despairing a vision of the economic realities of the American working class as Soderbergh’s original, the generally dour tone and piss-stained color palette have been exchanged for an ecstatically intimate view of himbo masculinity and candy-colored, sometimes gloriously abstract lighting expressly designed to make all bodies appear beautiful. gets a lot of mileage out of the reflexive examination of its own status as an attractive, decidedly unpretentious commodity which exists purely to service…

  • The Night of the Hunted

    The Night of the Hunted

    baffling, just barely skirts unwatchability most of the time but nonetheless Rollin intermittently wrings something incredibly moving and almost human from what would otherwise be little more than porn with numbingly elaborate justifications attached. identities and bodies crumble inside of sterile but fashionable interiors, which are supposedly insulating them from the barren, scarred urban wasteland which awaits outside. the eternal present-tensism is what really works here, though, with the constantly refashioned (and yet always disintegrating) selves clumsily stumbling towards warmth…

  • The Annihilation of Fish

    The Annihilation of Fish

    a delightfully “minor” work about the spirituality of broken people, one which takes their belief seriously (the little rustle of the bushes every time Hank is cast out, repeated so many times it goes from magical to mundane), even though it has no trouble laughing along with the sublime ridiculousness of faith, surrounded as it is by banality and cruelty. one of the loveliest films about how to keep living through trauma and fashion a life for yourself against the…

  • Twixt

    Twixt

    daylight’s fashionable glossy hyperreality is transformed into near-monochrome gothic fantasia at night. radical discontinuties of time, running too fast and too much and yet frozen by grief. Coppola exorcises the ghosts which narrative forms silence and brick over; the ground we stand on is revealed to be nothing but tombstones (Edgar Allan Poe stayed there once, didn’t you know?). abrasive juxtaposition (spatial, temporal, and tonal) tears at the insides of a tired genre exercise until it’s as bleeding and battered…

  • The Visit

    The Visit

    ”are you consciously aware that that’s my intention? i hate sappy movies, i find them torturous”

    the rare found footage film that deals productively with the tensions between the format’s pretensions to naturalism and its actual self-conscious theatricality, between digital’s capabilities for beautiful imagemaking and the unsettling coldness it tends to inflect images with. something of an ur-text (or preliminary investigation) for what Shyamalan was about to do in Split, insofar as he’s interrogating the way exploitation functions as an…

  • Wild Reeds

    Wild Reeds

    basically doesn’t function as a political text except in a few moments of appreciated clarity (the oneiric punctuation by Pierre’s ghost of the Marxist teacher’s failure to serve her political ideals, Morelli’s wife immediately retreating into the car as a sobering reminder of the Algerian people whose material presence is excluded from these intellectual spaces) and several more of unfortunately facile liberal humanism. however, this decidedly does work as an impossibly sensuous account of youth’s relationship to time, wistfully documenting…