Fenrir_Sleeps Reviews

The Putin Interviews (2017)

Stone's strange love for the bad guys

[6/10 · 10 May 2022]

For all the insight it offers on Russia's current head of state, "The Putin Interviews" are a noteworthy document. Only someone like Oliver Stone could let a man like Vladimir Putin feel so at ease and speak at such length in front of an American filming crew. For that, we are thankful to him, as all of his fellow journalists, who also had the chance to talk to Putin, always seem more worried about setting him on edge than properly interviewing him.

Unfortunately, for all its (seemingly) candidness, this four-hour documentary has little interest for the non-American viewer, as most of the time it dedicates for discussion of then-current affairs circles around the 2016 U. S. presidential election and American-led military operations.

Watch "The Putin Interviews" for a non-hysterical, lengthy account of a man that is bound to become one of the center figures of the 21st century. It is quite unlikely that any Western interviewer will ever be granted the kind of access Mr. Stone had to the Kremlin in order to film this. So, for that alone, "The Putin Interviews" are one of his most remarkable achievements (and the "Dr. Strangelove" segment is, by itself, worth your time investment).

It goes without saying that viewer discretion is advised, of course. But Oliver Stone assumes you are, at least, a minimally informed citizen and you will not take everything that Putin says at face value. Sometimes, he flags what he perceives as a less-honest utterance from his interviewee with a shrug of his bushy eyebrows towards the camera, and that is as patronizing as he ever gets during the "The Putin Interviews".

You Were Never Really Here (2017)

The plot was never really there

[6/10 · 15 April 2022]

The outrageousness of "You Were Never Really Here"'s plot just serves as a huge, self-conscious pointer of how unimportant the story is to the film. From "Taxi Driver" to "Taken", there are just too many plot-driven movies about unwilling heroes rescuing abducted girls out there already.

Now, after the film itself admits its redundancy in terms of narrative, it can only prove its mettle as an exercise in character study and style. And quite a stylish character study "You Were Never Really Here" is, with Joaquin Phoenix carrying the whole weight of its ninety minutes of duration on his shoulders - no wonder the man had to bulk up in order to play Joe.

So, after the director Lynne Ramsay, Mr. Phoenix and all their collaborators (at cinematography, editing, music score, et c.) have shown their full flex as cinema artisans, "You Were Never Really Here" can't help but ring hollow as the last scene at the diner fades out. And that is because the movie has excused itself of the task of telling a sound story to the audience. Apparently, it seems satisfied at just being this post-Scorsese, post-Tarantino afterthought (hints at foot fetishism scattered all around included), lacking the gravitas of a believable plot at its core.

Avicii: True Stories (2017)

The heat from the spotlights burns like Hell

[6/10 · 1 March 2022]

This one is a true oddity. Apparently meant to be a long letter of explanation/apology aimed at fans only, detailing on why Avicii decided to stop doing live shows from 2016 on, "Avicii: True Stories" becomes, perhaps unknowingly, one of the best insights into the crumbling mind of a world-renowned celebrity.

The cannibalistic world of super-stardom has always made its fair share of victims. These often try to find sanctuary in self-destructive behaviours to try to ease themselves from the burdens of the big spotlights: besides Tim Berg, names like Amy Winehouse or Whitney Houston also come to mind as recent cases of celebrities who collapsed under the weight of their own fame.

As everyone knows, Tim Berg, the man behind Avicii, would also ended up taking his own life just a few months after this documentary's release. His suicide drapes the behind-the-scenes footage shown in quite a heavy cloak. Indeed, Avicii, the performer, is only present during "True Stories" as something only seen from a distance for most of its running time. Director Levan Tsikurishvili (almost, we dare say, premonitorily) has decided to focus not on the countless DJ parties he threw, or even on the creative process behind his music making, but on the quiet moments that came after each live show instead, when Tim was allowed to shed his persona's skin and become himself again. As his true self, he vents out, over and over again as the years go by, how the constant pressure of having to perform live (something he openly admits he hates doing) is taking its toll on him, but how he is not allowed to step down from it because of the merciless coaxing from his label and booking agent.

After Tim's untimely demise, "Avicii: True Stories" became something of interest not only for fans who demanded an explanation for his withdrawal from live shows. Arguably, it has also become one of the best documentaries that came out in recent times on mental health (or lack thereof), and the dire costs of being thrown into the sphere of big music entertainment.

The Passion of the Christ (2004)

The Obsession of the Gibson

[6/10 · 28 December 2020]

"The Passion of the Christ" is the megalomaniac product of a psycho: had the subject matter been completely different, the extreme reactions of the audience to it would be just the same.

That is the main point of interest of this film, as it is not the polished, neutral result of an anonymous studio, but the product of the obsession of a single mind - with all the good and bad things that come with it. On those grounds, this film is unique and easily stands apart from all the other thousands of movies that portray the Crucifixion.

Given that, it's a pity that Mel Gibson could not think beyond some Hollywood clichés when making his film (more so when he literally had all the creative license he could possibly have), marring "The Passion of the Christ" with some unnecessary visual clues and involuntary laughs in the middle of the carnage.

Dumbo (2019)

A warning from Burton and a possible premonition

[6/10 · 4 May 2019]

It's curious how an ever-growing company like Disney keeps calling someone like Tim Burton to take the helm of their movies.

Beyond the political correct, anachronistic moral of the "circuses should have no animals", Burton's "Dumbo" is quite pro small, family-sized business, against the evil that lurks beneath the shiny veneer of big capitalist corporations.

The spectacular fall of Vandevere's Dreamland serves as a harrowing sign that Burton seems to be giving to Disney...if the Mouse ever falls under the weight of its own recent larger-than-life greed, how much value Burton's "Dumbo" will gain, as a warning, a premonition from within?

Silvestre (1981)

Aria of the Bluebeard

[8/10 · 29 January 2019]

A feminist medieval fable, built from the fusion of two folklore tales.

JCM changes the open vistas and natural grandeur from his last film, "Veredas", to the very self-conscious artificiality of studio scenarios. Somehow, this self-consciousness, allied to the flowery, lyrical dialogues and the ponderous pace of "Silvestre", convey perfectly the sense that we are being told a tale from another age.

The only down point in "Silvestre" is the heavy use of coloured filters in the rare outdoors scenes.

My Neighbors the Yamadas (1999)

Haiku review

[8/10 · 28 January 2019]

"My Neighbors the Yamadas" is like the best Doraemon episodes never aired in Doraemon.

Certified Copy (2010)

Lucignano, Tuscany

[8/10 · 24 January 2019]

Pretty much everyone mentions Rosselini's "Viaggio in Italia" and Linklater's "Before Sunrise" as inspirations for Kiarostami's "Copie Conforme". Which I find very pertinent comparisons but, personally, his film reminds me more of Wenders' "Paris, Texas" or, even more strongly, Lynch's "Mulholland Drive".

The last part of "Copie Conforme" brought such an emotional punch over me, without me ever noticing how Kiarostami was messing with my empathy while I was seeing the film. That's why I was remembered of "Paris, Texas" and "Mulholland Drive" - those are the only other two occasions I recall a movie had that effect on my psyche. Maximum pathos recurring to zero melodrama: that's the mark of a master craftsman.

I'd stick "Copie Conforme" more to Lynch's film though, because how both tend to work with mind-bending screenplays, toying with the more formal aspects of cinema-making in the process. Kiarostami manages to be much more rational and subtler in his experiments though, while Lynch's emotional breakdown in "Mulholland" is worked out on a pure subconscious level. None is better than the other - it's just two different kinds of genius.

Roma (2018)

Synecdoche, Mexico City

[3/10 · 19 January 2019]

Not so many years ago, a not so underground movie called "Synecdoche, New York" warned about the dangers of making art by recreating one's own life on a grand scale.

Given that Alfonso Cuarón's newest film basically is just that - a bigger-than-life recreation of his upbringing in Mexico City - "Roma" should be, at least, a funny experience. Oh, I'd have bet that, after Charlie Kaufman's warning some years ago, I would have some good laughs over a bloated autobiographical film from a megalomaniac director. But no..."Roma" couldn't even please me that way. It's just another sanitized production from a master craftsman, but poor storyteller. Afraid of provoking the audience in any sense, "Roma" doesn't fail because it doesn't even try to do something. And if it doesn't fail, it can't also be funny...just plain boring.

"Roma" is straight and sleek as the shaft of a broom: every nook and splinter, every aspect that could possibly startle the audience over what they are seeing was readily polished out of existence. The film is completely built out of memory, yet still, as you watch it, you cannot shake off the feeling that "Roma" is as hollow as an eggshell: historical recreations and social classes' conundrums are thrown in without any sort of explanation. What is going on beyond the soap opera plot? What's the cause for all the rioting in the streets? What's behind the tensions between landowners and workers at the hacienda?

Cuarón decides to race past all the important questions in "Roma", consequently turning it into little more than a condensed Mexican telenovela. Touching politics or social dilemmas in the movie would mean raising some hairs in the necks of some part of the audience and, therefore, lesser chances to collect some golden statues at the next Academy Awards ceremony, probably.

As big a treat for the eyes (and ears) as "Roma" might be, as brilliant Yalitza Aparicio's performance as the main character is, the story behind "Roma" is not better than your average Oscar-nominee Hollywood melodrama. Even though Cuarón seems to be back on Earth half a decade after releasing "Gravity", "Roma" still feels as airless and inane as the outer space.

Cries & Whispers (1972)

Not really what I look for in a Bergman movie

[6/10 · 4 January 2019]

Ingmar Bergman's movies are more of an intimate experience for me. I love how they have the power to upset me, recurring more to silence and a certain obliqueness.

Well, "Cries and Whispers", for all its heavy subject matter, is all but quiet and silent: film sets drenched in blood red, publicly overexplained by Bergman himself and even nominated for 5 Oscars (maybe that's why it's hailed by American critics as Bergman's masterpiece).

For all its disturbing scenes and display of Bergman's craftmanship, "Cries and Whispers" finds the swedish director at his less subtle, eager for some public recognition after a couple of previous failed productions. I am not personally against garishness per se, but that's just not what I look for in a Bergman film.

The Spirit of '45 (2013)

Red flag raised for our society

[7/10 · 26 December 2018]

Might go a little over the top on its conclusions, but it is an important reminder of a spirit of the time portrayed in the documentary.

In a time when Friedman's free market theory dangerously veers towards anarcho-capitalism, it might not be bad to remember that politics and states should still have a say on our society.

Unfortunately, 'The Spirit of '45' might seem a little bit too much like socialist propaganda, in spite of Ken Loach's intentions of trying to stick to the overall zeitgeist of the British society of the time. Deserves recognition, nonetheless, for having the courage of revealing the colour of its flag, in a business where every film is built to be as inocuous and mass-appealing as possible.

Blood (1989)

A fleeting dream in crisp black and white photography

[8/10 · 11 March 2018]

As you watch Pedro Costa's "The Blood", you feel as if you are constantly gripping for something. Each segment makes sense by itself, but the whole picture gets, somehow, fuzzier, more liquid as time wears on.

The focus slowly shifts away from narrative, in such a masterful way that you don't notice how the linear carpet is being pulled away from under your feet. After the first hour goes by, all that is left is a lucid dream of loosely connected sequences and strings of dialogue. Infinite forms of possible association of all that you've seen so far sprout in your head. Several references to the works of the great directors of the past wheel before your eyes. Your mind is submerged, deep and far into the well of the origins of cinema: it's as if you are watching to the first movie ever made, with all the proto-ideas and concepts that will branch away and develop into all the films that will come afterwards. You are let in a room of seeing things and being aware of human knowledge like you are not able to access in your normal, awake state. "The Blood" can make you feel all this and, at the same time, keep an illusion of normality and linearity at its surface. Like a trick of the light in a set of mirrors, your perception gets estranged from reality into these deep undercurrents of a sublevel of understanding.

And, as the end sequence of "The Blood" fades away, so do the gates to this exquisite dimension dissolve beyond your reach. The film sneaks into the realms of the forgotten dreams, the ones which the first minutes of the morning wipe away from your memory. "The Blood" invites you to visit him again...just so you can recover this kind of non-Euclidean way to experience consciousness. That's the great asset of this Costa's masterpiece: "The Blood" is that dazzling dream/nightmare experience which you can come back to every time you want.

Game of Thrones (2011–2019)

"A Song of Ice and Fire" for dummies

[3/10 · 3 December 2016]

I gave up from watching "Game of Thrones" in the middle of its third season. The little fun that I had since I began following the series, even that little bit was lost for me. I realized that I was just watching it for the sake of watching it, because I've been reading the "A Song of Ice and Fire" books. And life's too short to waste our free time on things that bring us no joy, so I'll just stick to the books from now on.

Long story short, I gave up from "Game of Thrones" because it made me feel dumb. I don't demand a show created for mass entertainment to have intellectual stimulation as its main feature, but, at least, I don't also expect it to be an insult to human intelligence. And that's exactly what I felt all the time while I was watching "GoT".

There's that old saying, "The film is always worse than the novel", right? The main problem of "GoT" is the way they don't just simplify the plot from the novels (which was unavoidable), but they also dumb down what they simplify, to turn the series' argument, I assume, 'accessible' for the average TV viewer. It's literally "A Song of Ice and Fire" for dummies.

After I read the first book of the novel series, and then watched the first season of "GoT", when I picked up "A Clash of Kings" (the second book of the series) and while reading it, I could get in on "GoT" writers' minds, and guess which parts of the novel would be picked to be put on screen. Basically, everything that features violence or black comedy (which in the books don't detract the story, but only helps to define it), is amped up in "GoT", and the TV series' plot is built around individual, shocking scenes, to grab the "average viewer" by what instinctively impresses the human mind the easiest.

I'm recalling the scene when Tywin Lannister is appointed Hand of the King, in a ceremony on the Throne's Room and the horse on which he's mounted makes a dung while the Hand of the King's pin is being placed on his lapel. While in the book the scene goes just like this, a fine touch of English-like humor, of political satire in the story, in "GoT" they decide to open the Hand of the King's ceremony scene with a great plan of Tywin's horse fresh dung, and then film him going while he trots in the Throne's Room. As everyone understood the joke? Or maybe they should have made a great plan of the horse's butthole while he was making the dung, just to make sure everyone got it.

To all this mind-numbing sort of explained anecdotes, and to their analogue for the violent scenes, add a cast mostly composed of bad actors, who most of the time are trying to fit in their characters so hard, that they make every scene and dialog seem made-up and artificial (exception made for Peter Dinklage as Tyrion Lannister), and you have here a really cringey TV show. For the ones who find valor and amusement in "Game of Thrones", I feel great for you, but I guess that, for me, this isn't just my cup of tea.

The Big Short (2015)

Under all the unnecessary fluff, we have here an important movie

[7/10 · 4 August 2016]

"The Big Short" by Adam McKay is a curious movie, in the sense that it is a Hollywood production which straightforwardly points its finger to the banks, the rating agencies, well…all American economy after all, blaming it for its relentless behavior which led to the 2008 World economy collapse, and all the disastrous consequences that came from it.

So, here we have Hollywood doing something that very rarely does, which is public service in the most direct way possible, resuming the reasons that led to the recent economic crisis (which, by itself, is a hard subject for a Hollywood film), and burning the symbols of American capitalism to the ground, before our very eyes. A pretty bold move, huh?

It's always good to see the greatest entertainment industry of the World trying to give its two cents on some first-order social issues, and "The Big Short" is worth watching for this reason alone. Unfortunately, the film has its faults, which taint its valorous ambition, faults that I'll try to resume here:

• Even though the theoretical bulk of the story is simplified to its core, "The Big Short" might not be very user-friendly for those who are not into the issue. For those ones, one viewing of the movie will most likely not be enough to catch all the technical details presented.

• Some aesthetic aspects employed on the film are not relevant at all for the story itself, and only shows an attempt from the filmmakers to turn "The Big Short" more appetizing for the general audience it is addressing, namely:

• the shaky, constantly on-focusing camera used on many sequences, trying to give an urgent feeling to the story;

• constant fourth-wall breaking done by the characters, doing aside remarks to the audience;

• flashbacks, oh the damned flashbacks, providing some background story to our characters, desperately clawing for our empathy towards them. Emotional manipulation at its rancid best. Remember that most of these guys are still making obscene profits out of people's misery. As Vennett perfectly puts out, they're not the heroes of this story. Some of them might question the morality of their own actions, but that won't stop them from doing them.

Despite its visual excesses, "The Big Short" is worth seeing for those who want to understand, on a nutshell, the recent collapse of the world economy. Just don't forget to refresh your notion of "mortgage" before watching it, I assure you it will be of great help!

Dragon Ball (1995–2003)

Great battles, a great protagonist...and not much more

[5/10 · 13 June 2016]

I managed to finish my Dragon Ball saga, watching all the episodes from the series just a few days ago, seeing them in varying frequency over the last several months.

I think I missed the Dragon Ball generation for a couple of years, and I spent my childhood times watching other, more recent anime series. Notwithstanding, Dragon Ball is a canonical memory for several of my friends, and after years over years of hearing about Goku and Vegeta and company from them, I decided to fill in that gap of collective memory, and started watching Dragon Ball for the first time in my twenties.

Ridden off warm childhood nostalgia towards Dragon Ball, I found the plot of the series to be thin to the limit of reasonability. Dragon Ball is pure afterwork (or afterschool, as it was in most of the cases) escapism, something to see after a hard day's work, to sit on the sofa and switch the mind off and let yourself loose on those martial arts/fantasy fights. Everything in between them is mined with plot holes, brusque changes of pace in the story and pure indifference from the creative team to keep such errors under a minimum of control.

So, what's the secret behind the success of an anime series so blatantly careless about the consistency of its story? I'd say that, even though the plot of Dragon Ball is so limited, the story is aware of those limits, and can even be satirical about its own weaknesses. It's a humble position that is lacking on most of today's top animes, and the great secret behind Dragon Ball's irresistible charm. Just try to name another anime's main villain who is so bad and so amusingly aware of its own maleficence as Piccolo.

And even though we can name all the plot between the fights in Dragon Ball as "fillers", something quickly sketched just to rush the viewers into the next epic battle, I can safely assure you that those same battles are (at least the majority of them) something noteworthy. The come out of each battle and the way they develop follow almost always the rules of predictability, but no one can assert that the animation crew isn't able to create some great action scenes. The way the characters are designed and move around the screen are brimming with adrenaline, and one cannot help but feel fully engaged on the fights.

Another stand out from the series is the character of Goku: his mix of naivety and unbreakable resilience may seem simple on paper, but sure is a winning formula. And as the monkey boy flies over the cities and towns on his magical Nimbus, filling the hearts of its inhabitants with hope in times of despair, you can be sure you'll also feel inspired to always put all of you in everything you do.

Tangerines (2013)

A fragile plot that doesn't want to take any risks

[4/10 · 15 May 2016]

Although I understand why "Tangerines" is a public favorite, I can't really get aboard the hype train regarding this Estonian-Georgian production.

Whichever good intentions had the director Zaza Urushadze on producing this anti-war statement, they were lost within a very timid plot, which lacks the confidence to set itself free from all the conventions of this kind of story.

I found "Tangerines"'s plot utterly clichéd, predictable, emotionally manipulative, and its characters were carved paper thin. I don't demand intricate stories to tell such simple, yet important lessons like the futility of war, but there's a difference between simplicity and predictability.

The great interpretations from the cast (especially from Lembit Ulfsak (Ivo) and Giorgi Nakashidze (Ahmed)) and the compelling visuals of "Tangerines" can't save the film from its thin argument, and even though I don't doubt Urushadze's integrity to tell a story that touches such sensible topics from Estonia's recent History, he can't turn it more compelling than any given Hollywood war movie.

The Master (2012)

"The Master" demands time and sensitivity

[9/10 · 2 January 2016]

"The Master" was the first title in a long, long time that I felt compelled to watch more than once in a very short time. After watching it for the first time and reading some articles about the movie, I realized how much of the experience had slipped through my fingers and felt the urge to see it again, as soon as possible.

The second viewing was essential to properly wrap my feelings about the movie. Although "The Master" is an American production, I feel that it resembles much more the cinema that is made from the other side of the Atlantic. In Europe, narrative in the movies has not the weight that it has in Hollywood. Here, cinema authors search more frequently for a sensory, poetic feeling in their works, preferring those over narrative coherence. Which is not necessarily better or worse than the American way, but certainly explains the coldness that the general audience displayed towards this movie.

Although "The Master" has a story on it, it definitely doesn't play a major part in the film. Paul Thomas Anderson doesn't force any reaction from the viewer towards what's happening on screen. He's just displaying a story, and leaves just enough space between its elements so one can creep in and model the film has one likes: that's where the genius of "The Master" resides. It might take two or even three views before you realize what this movie might mean to you, so make sure you have the time to dedicate to this work. If you use to see more narrative-leaning Hollywood productions, you might find it hard to get used to "The Master"'s tone. I recommend seeing some works by François Truffaut or Federico Fellini, e.g., to help you find the right mindset. In literature, you can also try Virginia Woolf.

O Barão (2011)

Miguel Melo as the main character stands out in over-stylized Gothic horror picture

[7/10 · 16 September 2015]

"O Barão", by Edgar Pêra, based on the homonymous Branquinho da Fonseca masterwork novel, is a visually challenging picture, a film that defies genre boundaries, a characteristic usually found on the works of other Portuguese New Cinema directors (João Canijo, Miguel Gomes, Teresa Villaverde, etc.). Swaying between Gothic horror and surrealism, "O Barão" triggered in me opposite feelings towards what I was seeing.

"O Barão" is shot in beautiful, high-contrast black and white tones, reminiscent of classic Gothic horror pictures, a hypnotizing scheme of colors that succeeds in holding the viewer's attention. Miguel Melo as the titular character (The Baron), gives one of the most impressive performances in recent Portuguese cinema, perfectly embodying is persona, and rising all the way to the top to the best personifications of Dracula in cinema History.

Unfortunately, the stylistic tone of the movie constantly makes use of multiple-exposure shots, ever-changing lighting (to stress on the film's stagey feeling), abstract dialogue and the omnipresence of English subtitles on screen, carefully embedded to make them seem part of the movie itself (that's great for non-Portuguese speakers viewers who want to see "O Barão", but in my perspective I can't help but feel that they look only distracting). This way, the dimmest shade of narrative that "O Barão" could possess gets buried beneath tons of "make-up" and, although the movie runs over less than an hour and a half, sixty minutes into the movie, neither the film's amazing cinematography or Miguel Melo's perfect performance can't save you from dozing off a little bit in your couch. Still, I'd say that "O Barão" is an exercise worth of your attention, for the outstanding aspects afore mentioned.

Deliverance (1972)

What happens in Cahulawassee stays in Cahulawassee

[7/10 · 30 May 2015]

'Duelling Banjos' and 'SQUEAL!' are the names by which the two most famous scenes of 'Deliverance' are known. The first one depicts an amicable musical dispute between one of the main characters (Drew) and a local boy, the second a scene where other main character (Bobby) is humiliated and sodomized by another far less amicable local. Both scenes (in very different ways, that's for sure), convey human interaction in pre-Babbel form, two scenes that don't lean on language and make us feel good and evil in their purest form, in this tale where Men returns to the Wild and, therefore, must be confronted with it.

'Deliverance' is a downbeat adventure drama film directed by John Boorman in 1972, starring Burt Reynolds, Jon Voight, Ned Beatty and Ronny Cox as the four city men who trade their golf weekend for a canoe adventure down the Cahulawassee River in Southern U.S., before this last piece of native, wild America disappears underwater after the construction of a dam. But things start to unravel for the four adventurers, who soon find themselves fighting for survival on a land where civilization laws are not applicable.

Cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond does a tremendous job capturing the beautiful wild, landscape in tones of green and smooth gold. The four main actors are all up to the characters they play, as proved by the scenes when moral discussion arises and each of them must make their point on the subject. The soundtrack is minimal and mostly replicate the Nature sounds that surround our four men on their adventure, with some keys of banjo here and there, which really helps to delve in the story.

In sum, 'Deliverance' is an effective adventure film, which counts with great photography, interpretations and soundtrack to convey a story of instinct and survival over civilization, where good and evil are shown in their most raw form and every major plot event is pondered and brings irreversible consequences for the future. So it is the way of Nature.

Winter Sleep (2014)

An engaging argument that makes us wait for something that ultimately doesn't happen

[5/10 · 19 May 2015]

'Winter Sleep' is the first movie I've seen from Turkish leading director Nuri Bielge Ceylan. Running over three hours long, 'Winter Sleep' is the longest movie I've seen for several months, and, considering the schizophrenic way I'm used to see movies (albeit my absolute love for cinema), I was surprised that I managed to stop the reproduction of this long piece only once, and for demanding physiological reasons!

'Winter Sleep' is a wordy, long study of its characters, an authentic visual novel that resonates great Russian classics like the ones from Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky or…Checkov (or the masterful Bergman's room dramas like 'Autumn Sonata'). The key to see 'Winter Sleep' is to be calm and patient. Virtually every scene is stuffed with dialogue and they can endure up to twenty minutes each, which is intellectually drying and makes you feel you can't deal with the next one…but as you waver on to continue to see 'Winter Sleep' or not, the movie has already hooked you on its story again.

Aydin it's the central character of 'Winter Sleep' (superbly interpreted by Haluk Bilginer) and he appears in virtually every scene of the movie. Aydin is an intellectual, he's the 'king of his small kingdom', as he himself says, a kingdom constituted by some properties that he rents and his hotel, 'Hotel Othello'. As the people who form his small circle gradually confront him with their opinions about him (first the tenants of one of his properties, then his sister Necla, and finally his wife Nihal), Aydin is forced into a introspection (which constitutes the last act of the movie) concerning him and his relation with his little world. The conclusions Aydin takes from this reflection and how they change his behavior is the ultimate point of 'Winter Sleep'.

The Tree of Life (2011)

Yes, pretentious as a great movie. Deal with it.

[7/10 · 28 December 2014]

'The Tree of Life' is Terrence Malick's take on the great questions of Life. More than a movie, 'The Tree of Life' is an interactive experience with the audience. Rather than a linear plot, the viewer is given some visual and auditory elements, selected pieces of two great stories, too great to fit on a film: the story of Humanity, which by its turn is infinitely compressed within the story of the Universe. All sort of ominous questions can be triggered by this imagery: Where did we come from? Where are we going? Is there a conscious being behind the great plan of Creation? If there is, why does He painfully takes what He so freely gives? Does the afterlife exists?

Writing it this way, you might get the perception that the decision of sacrificing the argument in favor of an abstract approach on the matter is nothing but a curiosity, a directorial caprice. But the openness of 'The Tree of Life' also admits an interpretation for that. The intersection of scenes and whispers in the course of the film works as a metaphor for the human memory. We're constantly playing in the great film that is our own life, but our brain rarely preserves chunks of time for future reference. Our memory is primarily made of images, sounds and smells that are coupled with certain emotions. Seeing 'The Tree of Life' I felt like having V.I.P. access to the memory of a superior being, omniscient of the creation of all things. More than aweing us with the superiority of that visual shrine, Malick's point is on trying that some of those images resonate with the ones from our memory.

I noted some other metaphors in the course of the film. An obvious one is the constant presence of water. Water in the beginning as the cradle of Life. Water in the end as the drowner of lives. The vision of afterlife as a beach, a return to the origins. Water, as mysterious as the own Creator.

Another one that I particularly liked is the recurrent use of scenes where the camera looks up to the Sun through branches of trees, constantly reminding us of our smallness, crying for justice, or at least answers (or at least for a God), as the Sun, silent, impavid as a Creator, casts its shadows on the branches of the Tree of Life.

Well, these are the major qualities of 'The Tree of Life' that I wanted to write about. Even though the film didn't 'resonate' with me (though I'm tempted to blame it to the mood which I was on when I saw it), I found myself lost in thought and eager to write about it. Now, 'The Tree of Life' is not a masterpiece. It's just a very ambitious exercise, and I respect it for that. Where does the movie flaw, then?

-Out of all pre-historic creatures that could have been chosen, why so much focus on dinosaurs? An infantile whim that looks out of context.

-The part of the film that follows the growth of the O'Brien's children drags like Eno's 'Thursday Afternoon'. Besides the fact of being predictable, the point of it was made well before it was over.

-Sean Penn does the greatest puzzled-looking-around of film history. Did they really cast him just to do that?

As a conclusion, I can only say that now I understand the critics' hype around 'The Tree of Life'. Is a vast exercise, ranging from the Big Bang to the afterlife, open enough to let anyone feel touched by this or that scene. Unfortunately, for me, it didn't work. Maybe I'll change my mind after a second view but, as for now, to meditate about the smallness of Man and the great questions of Life, I still prefer Sagan's 'Pale Blue Dot' theory and good ol' Kubrick's 'Space Odyssey'.

Braveheart (1995)

Plot shrinks before the greatness of open sets

[7/10 · 25 December 2014]

'Braveheart' was prepared to be one of the greatest epic movie experiences of all time, if it wasn't built around it's poor, formulaic core: Randall Wallace's script.

The movie opens with some astonishing, aerial views of the Highlands, setting immediately the movie color scheme: brown and green. During the three hours of 'Braveheart', our eyes and hearts will be invaded with these two colors, that come from the mountains down to the very pieces of clothe that the characters wear. The bond between Scotland and Nature is assured then!

Although 'Braveheart' is regarded as one of the most historically inaccurate movies ever, an unsuspicious watcher (like me) won't spot that difference while watching the film. 'Braveheart' succeeds on involving us in its story, resorting to little details like the use of Gaelic-Scottish accent to help. E.g., the artificial look of the sets and the American English accent of the characters in 'Gladiator' made me take much longer to feel wrapped in the film. 'Braveheart' never intended to be historically accurate. It wants to create a whole new myth, and succeeds on doing that realistically.

The real backdrop of 'Braveheart' is its argument, which is as typical as a Hollywood epic drama movie can get. Taking little risks when writing the plot cuts on the thrills of the film, as much of the story becomes predictable. Here, 'Braveheart' loses to 'Gladiator', as I felt the last one took the liberty of being tragically dense, which resulted on me being completely hooked on its climatic finale.

Although no actor is really outstanding, all the actors are competent playing the characters they're given. The story's texture comes mainly from the feeling of the existence of the director's trademark, the sense that a human is behind the camera. Maybe it was an unpredicted consequence from the cuts Mel Gibson applied to the film to avoid the NC-17 rating, but there's undoubtedly something unique in the quick way the story unfolds.