Every scene, every encounter between two parties, is a transaction. Everyone's "been putting it up" all their lives, whether they know it or not, and these encounters, focused so minutely on details, select a path for them. I particularly like the echoes of two scenes of handing over clothing to another.
A sort of anti-adventure. As presented in this film, Fawcett isn't so much motivated by excitement, riches or even discovery, but by a drive to commune with a different experience in life. The film's most beautiful moments are its elisions of time between voyages, or the way moments from Fawcett's European and South American lives bleed into one another. Some of the motivation seems a bit sketchy to me (Fawcett doesn't seem to have Fitzcarraldo-levels of obsession, nor a reason to particularly driven by the social justice elements of his trips), but there's an absorbing moodiness to the film that's intriguing.
For the life of me I can't understand how fans find anything to give a shit about in these films.
There's no personality, no stakes, no energy on display from either the cast or the directors. In the Russo brothers, I think Marvel have found their ideal directors: artless, visionless servants of an episodic TV structure. The action isn't exactly unintelligible (Marvel films are too insidious to be completely unsound), but it's passionless: hyperkinetic yet perfunctory. The Russo brothers' "style"…
Both experiential and texturally rich as well as intellectually alive. Silence is built around a series of religious tests, moral riddles whose consequences grow more and more thorny. Or rather, the film burrows deeper and deeper into manifestations of the same dilemma: the stubborn pride of conviction and the distance between heart and action. It's an extremely complex exploration of these ideas, but the film is tactile as well as brainy. Rodrigo Prieto's cinematography beautifully captures the indifference of the…