Being a popular figure for the Americans, it would be easy enough to fall into the loving-widow-simplistic view. Yet, Pablo Larraín, is far from it — in the film Jackie he shows a multi-layered dimension on the American's historic first lady.
On the Milky Road has all the trademarks of Kusturica — music, pace, rhythm, comedy, tragedy, magic almost all the same time. Yet, in certain moments, you seem to have already seen it somewhere else. And you probably have.
There is something supernatural about classics. They can feel somehow odd, misplaced even, when watched more than 6o years later, and yet remain powerful, believable. Singin' In The Rain (1952) is no exception. For no modern special effect or 3D stunt could put a smile on my face the way this film just did.
Stories can be told without words, everyone knows that. Just as much words can tell other things besides narratives. They can be powerful even if unspoken. Even — perhaps even more — if not understood.
It's a punch in the stomach, done with a very tight fist, very intensely and slowly, to hurt even more. Miss Violence, directed by Alexandros Navras, shows a particular angle on domestic violence, based on the daily life of an apparently — only if you're not paying close attention — happy family.
As the film provides the most complete — and perhaps the most beautiful, in its truthfulness — portrait of mankind I have ever seen, it also has the power to immerse us in our own personal lives, in our choices, in our hopes and despairs. Only to throw us back again into the awareness of this big wide world for a glimpse of the big, bitterly unfair picture.
When I was little, I used to watch Tom Sawyer on TV — sorry, Mark Twain. I still know the lyrics of the cartoon by heart, for those adventures around the Mississipi made me dream of exotic places, unexpected challenges, freedom and forever friends. Mud (2012), written and directed by Jeff Nichols, has made me live all that once again. But it did much more than that.
The film starts with a shocking rape scene at Michèle's (Isabelle Huppert) home. Elle, a French-German-Belgian psychological thriller directed by Paul Verhoeven, comes like a punch in the stomach, awakening all your senses.