Marigold

Talk to the hand, or combine an idiotic viral TikTok challenge, a metaphor for drugs, a drama about mourning and a horror movie about possession and you have the genre flick of year, in which cleverly malicious directing, excellent actors and a heavy atmosphere in which the world of phantoms that may or may not mean well by people increasingly crosses over into reality. A more than respectable successor to films such as Get Out and It Follows. I’m trembling!

An excellent slow cinema debut that suffers from the fact that, unlike the works of real masters, it contemplates less with images and more with words…but Thien An is a talent who can add interesting postscripts to Tsai Ming-Liang’s legacy in the future. However, he still falls a bit short of the poetic mastery of his Chinese colleague Bi Gan’s Kaili Blues.

A likable film with a likably unlikable protagonist driven by wounded ambition. The Promised Land blends a serious historical epic with some penny-dreadful twists that ultimately prevent the film from forcefully crowning Kahlen’s fate as an entirely tragic and self-destructive character. The Promised Land comes across as a film in search of itself on the heath. Fortunately, Arcel elevated his directing above that in the slightly TV-like A Royal Affair, Rasmus Videbæk beautifully captures the chiaroscuro and Mads Mikkelsen plays his unapproachable father character with his usual precision. The film wants to throw a powerful jab with its ending, but it winds up choosing a safer route that doesn’t offend, but it doesn’t satisfy either.

Scenes from National Socialist married life and a film whose concept is drawn so tight that it left me feeling oddly indifferent. The idea of transforming a death factory into a 2D backdrop, which Łukasz Żal’s camera literally pushes through the depth of field to the Hösses’ “garden of paradise” is suffocating and oppressive, but it also leads to a certain monotony and risks making the viewer get used to it just as the characters get used to the ubiquitous stench, screaming and moaning. The central couple cannot be humanised to a sufficient extent to form a psychological counterpoint to the horrors of the Holocaust, so I found that there was something mechanical in the Hösses’ routines that made it easier for me to disconnect from the urgency of Glazer’s world. The banality of evil is precisely and literally illustrated. I was reminded of Markus Schleinzer’s similarly conceived and distanced film Michael, which, however, started to be truly impressive at the moment when the character of the blasé paedophile rapist gets an adversary in the form of the victim in a powerful reverse shot. Glazer chooses a similar principle at the end, but in doing so, he breaks the fourth wall in a way that has more intellectual calculation than natural power. Was Höss aware of the moral implications of his actions or was he able to conceal them in the rhetoric of industrial production and historical necessity? This is where the possibilities of Glazer’s film reach their limit. In the ever-powerful deluge of “Holocaust porn”, The Zone of Interest is important for its differentness and its courage to change the perspective, to expose the viewer to the “cognitive dissonance” experienced by the direct perpetrators of evil. It is also an interesting reflection on the central ideological concept of Lebensraum, which in the portrayal of Frau Höss takes the form of a neat garden fertilised with the ashes of the dead. Nevertheless, I enjoy reflecting on the film from a distance significantly more than experiencing it directly on the screen. In that respect, I give preference to the concept of Son of Saul…and to reading the immensely monstrous The Kindly Ones, which went much deeper into the psyches of the architects of the Holocaust than The Zone of Interest.

Bayona is a master of the disaster effect. Whereas Alive was a matter of leaving certain things somewhat in the abstract, physical details are not absent in Society of the Snow. Does that necessarily lead to a deeper experience? No, but it doesn’t seem out of place and tasteless like some of the emotional-blackmail moments in Stand by Me. I could have done without the conjuring with the (unreliable) narrator, but it’s not worth concealing the fact that, despite the slight distance that this refined filmmaking evokes, this film has an excellent pace and the actual event on which it is based has enough...well, meat on the bone is perhaps not an appropriate analogy. In any case, Society of the Snow manages to reconcile reverence with adrenaline. Nevertheless, I still think Alive is the better film (also because I associate it with the experience of going to the cinema when I was a kid) and the excellent documentary Stranded offered greater emotional and psychological depth.

Literary cinematic boredom on the Baltic with with a suspiciously small thought displacement.

A film whose creators stutter, can’t remember the beginning of a sentence and constantly run the gamut from “original sci-fi” to clichés and desperate banalities that mask one thing: The Creator says nothing relevant about the phenomenon of AI, which is merely another spectacular decorative element in a film that’s completely dependent on design. Neither the plot nor the world of the film makes sense; given how much space The Creator has, it never creates a coherent and comprehensible world. By comparison, even the didactic Elysium comes across as an engrossing fictional world. Edwards’ directing tries to go in depth, but it rather unconvincingly jumps from details to the big picture, from the present to the past. Some of the actors’ lines really could have been written only by Chris Weitz... Washington plays an utterly two-dimensional character who, through his suffering, only reinforces the impression that The Creator demands grand emotions, to which he is absolutely not entitled. Instead, it has the same feelings of emptiness and lifelessness as Godzilla and Rogue One.

Concentrated building of apocalyptic tension that employs clever work with perspective reminiscent of Spielberg’s War of the Worlds (including the way Esmail microdoses the disaster). In emotional terms, we find ourselves between the brightest moments of Shyamalan, Peele and the masterful Take Shelter, but transposed from the working class to New York’s upper middle class. In my opinion, Leave the World Behind is a much more accurate depiction of the catastrophic zeitgeist than all of those hyped-up eco-anti-capitalist satires. It works primarily as a film and some of the statements from the mouths of the believable characters directed against the system and society come off better than in the case of pompous puppet shows. Great work with the camera trajectories, precise actors (Mahershala Ali winner by KO), excellent sound design... If not for a few tonal stumbles, this would be without doubt one of the best disaster films of recent years.

Random notes about the dark net, groupies and serial killers mixed haphazardly with the superficial motif of “outwardly beautiful but inwardly monstrous model living in a clinically clean apartment with AI that tells jokes”. The film, which confuses outward effects with profound psychology, unintentionally gives a nod of approval to tabloid fascination with violence and insight into the pathological world with the eclectic alternation of themes, about which it says nothing at all. An empty gesture, horror vacui.

Two-thirds of The Lost Children is a highly competent and disturbing psychological horror movie with an interesting twist, but the final third is a bit insipid. That’s a shame, but I still highly rate the directorial skills and the great choice of child (non-)actors.