Matty

This documentary summarising the resurrection and second life of Verhoeven’s flop, Showgirls, is excellent in how it takes into account the broad range of aspects that make a cult move a cult movie (touching on the film’s critical reception, fans and Susan Sontag), as well as its ability to convince you – for example, through careful analysis of the dialogue about dog food – that Showgirls can be seen as, for example, a masterpiece with a feminist message and not just as a misogynistic trash. In the end, you will probably appreciate it more or possibly start to see the rest of Verhoeven’s filmography, in the context of which Showgirls is discussed, in a different light. Furthermore, it’s funny and healthily irreverent toward the mainstream, as befits a film that places so many mirrors in front of the entertainment industry. 85%

When you accept from the beginning that Mike Flanagan (see also the excellent Oculus) is using a horror framework for the purpose of relating a suspenseful narrative about dealing with family traumas, finding trust (the story of a woman who no one believes repeatedly falls victim to attacks, which is very up to date), overcoming fear and the search for a home (i.e. unlike in other horror films, family history does not serve only as pretext for the scares – it is the main subject; fear comes from outside), you can then enjoy this psychologically compelling drama with its layered narrative structure and smooth (visual and audio) transitions between the past and present, facts and imaginings, as well as “old school” scares, based on the intra-shot montages and disturbing movement in different parts of the picture. Though some scenes are shot in a rather run-of-the-mill manner (shot/counter-shot dialogue scenes) and the conclusion with a loosely formed metafiction level is somewhat negatively affected by excessive ambitions and runtime (each of the episodes, usually bound to the point of view of one of the main characters, has its purpose, but many of them could easily have been shorter), The Haunting is excellent overall in terms of acting and directing, and one of the most pleasant surprises of this year among series. The sixth episode, consisting of several multi-minute shots that are complex choreographically and in terms of meaning, ranks among the best that high-quality TV has to offer with respect to craftsmanship.

Chained for Life is a film about making a film, a contemporary arthouse horror movie with physically disabled characters (the title refers to the exploitation film Chained for Life from 1952). In addition to “normal” actors, the filmmakers decide to cast actors with the required physical disabilities. The lead actress becomes friends with the man with a deformed face who plays her lover. However, it is not clear whether her feelings are authentic or if she is only pretending in order to make herself look like a better person. We can ask the same question about the other actors. The boundary between the story in front of the camera and the story behind the camera gradually becomes blurred, the transitions between filming and being filmed become less and less obvious. Through adroitly directed, long, fragmented shots using self-reflexive drama (with elements of horror satire), the film endeavours to truly capture the experience of disfigured artists (the director himself has a deformed face). It does not attempt to portray them in an overly positive light according to the usual narrative formula of a monster with a good heart, thanks to which the beautiful lady realises in what the true value of a person consists. All characters have physical or character defects and it is not possible to anticipate how they will behave toward each other. In this way, the film beneficially and inspirationally deconstructs certain stereotypes associated with how someone looks and reflects the extent to which our perception of people who are physically different is influenced by their established media representation. 75%

When Christian Bale thanked Satan for inspiring his portrayal of Dick Cheney at the Golden Globes, he not only gained the fondness of the Church of Satan, but also expressed how McKay’s film is problematic. He takes a very easy target and, and with a complete lack of nuance, depicts Cheney as the most demonic figure in modern American history, responsible for the war in Iraq, the torture of prisoners and numerous other crimes against humanity. Despite Bale's convincing physical transformation into the powerful politician and the humorous etudes of the actors in supporting roles (though humorous in a way similar to the celebrity cameos in Anchorman), this is a one-dimensional portrait of a diabolical figure without any psychological depth and tells us nothing that we wouldn’t already know. Furthermore, it is an ugly, dull film with mundane direction and, most importantly – unlike The Big Short, which used the same alienating procedures much more systematically – it is not entertaining. The elitist condescension to viewers who clearly would not enjoy Vice (the girl in the intertitle scene, telling her friend how she looks forward to the next instalment of Fast & Furious) is, despite how clever the film pretends to be, really stupid. 50%

If I didn't have a weakness for Lisbeth Salander and Claire Foy (and the criminally underused Vicky Krieps), I would rate this film more harshly. I don’t mind that the filmmakers have definitively turned Lisbeth it into a comic book superheroine who treats wounds with superglue, snorts a crushed amphetamine tablet to get up, can move from place to place at lightning speed and needs less time to hack the NSA than to make coffee for an ordinary mortal (Larsson’s trilogy was already headed in this direction). The problem is how they slapdashedly modified the plot to be substantially more layered with multiple perspectives taking into account (and alternating with) the work upon which it is based and the manner of storytelling. Events are connected to each other in a terribly careless and repetitive way, based on the same pattern (someone tries to kidnap/kill someone, that person is captured/escapes and around we go again). Despite signs of psychologisation (Lisbeth’s trauma due to her sister’s betrayal), the characters behave as if they are in a run-of-the-mill action film and their foolish decisions are too frequently not fatal for them due only to fortunate coincidences and magically flawless timing. The visual style, derived from Scandinavian noir and punk as well as S&M aesthetics and merely copying Fincher and Alvarez much more than the slow revealing shots evoking unease and unpleasant feelings (such as the first one after the Bond-esque opening credits), uses fast, chaotic cutting that buries the entire atmosphere. The director is apparently most “at home” during scenes with elements of horror, which make up the only aspect that is not as painfully generic and interchangeable as the rest. I would be glad to see Claire Foy again in the role of Lisbeth Salander, but not in a film that most reminds me of the feminist answer to Crank. 55%

Angelo is a film that only sporadically allows us get close to the characters. At the same time, it never receives their gaze, as it follows them with neutral shots throughout its runtime. This is most apparent during dialogues, which basically are not handled by means of standard cuts from one speaker to the other. We look in only one direction. Instead of being drawn into the picture by the shots/counter-shots, we remain in the position of impartial observers. This observational style, with which Schleinzer previously worked in Michael, underscores the central theme of human objectification. Angelo is exhibited at first. He later begins to appear on his own, but he portrays a learned role that is not a reflection of his true identity, but rather of the distorted (stereotypical) ideas about African culture held by white people (who, through this “colonisation of the mind”, by subordinating foreign elements to their own ways of representation, assert their dominance – therefore, the protagonist’s gaining of independence is the worst sin that he can commit). Depersonalised static shots à la tableaux vivants (contemporary fine art also associates natural lighting and a well-considered choice of colours of the environment and costumes) make the film difficult to access, but, at the same time, the distinctively elliptical narrative with a large number of hints that retroactively give meaning to certain scenes, forces us to fully engage with it. From these two opposing movements that the film requires from the viewer, a special dynamic arises, due to which, together with subversive anachronisms in the mise-en-scène, strict division into chapters and very cynical pointing scenes, Angelo is not a boring film despite its slow pace, but rather a very stimulating work that entices the viewer to watch it again. 90%

Stunning shots that are more truthful than those with which series like Planet Earth captivate us (though we could discuss the paradox that lies in the attempt to show devastation in a manner that makes it look beautiful above all else), but what purpose are they supposed to serve? The monotonous accumulation of information about how humanity has thoroughly screwed the planet intensifies environmental grief, the feeling of helplessness and apathy. Films showing what can be changed and issuing calls to action are more necessary than those that penitently repeat over and over again everything that we have done wrong as a civilisation. We already know that.

Aquaman is a lot of things (suddenly and gradually). The origin story telling about the birth of the protagonist and the history of a nation, maternal melodrama turned upside down (from the perspective of the offspring, not the mother), an underwater Flash Gordon, a buddy movie (serving as the basis of an insipid romance), a fairy tale about two brothers, of whom only one can be king, a film in whose climactic scene the protagonists mounts a seahorse and his partner a killer whale ... ___ In purely structural terms, it holds together (thanks to a superfluous storyline with a vengeful pirate that motivates the hero’s transformation and forms the foundation for a sequel) and works rhythmically, but the tone changes every ten minutes (making Aquaman unintentionally reminiscent of South Korean multi-genre films) and the narrative is constantly helped along by the same processes (the dry “humanising” one-liners with which the protagonist responds to epic moments, shifting of the story with unexpected attacks by “water” soldiers). ___ My other reservations are rather problems that I personally have with the film – Jason Momoa does not come across as sexy to me and I am disgusted by the solving of problems with brute force, which he represents; Mera has to deal with most of the story in a scaly latex jumpsuit with a plunging neckline, and she acts competently mainly due to the fact that Aquaman is terrible by her side; the most reasonable actions are those of the villain who wants to start a war with humans because they pollute the oceans with their waste. ___ Visually and musically, Aquaman is great in places (it reminded me of Avatar, Blade Runner and Luc Besson’s better films; experts in old comic books may spot inspiration from other sources), and at least one action scene (Sicily) does not look like a noisy CGI clusterfuck, even if it steals from The Adventures of Tintin, The Bourne Supremacy, the second Captain America and scrolling video games. ___ As a guilty pleasure with overwrought ambitions (and a ginger Dolph Lundgren and sharks with laser cannons and Willem Dafoe, who plays a vizier named Vulko), it can be enjoyed without major pain. 65%

My immediate impression of this film was manifested in one of the first names to appear in the closing credits: Philip Nee Nee. Everything important happens in roughly the last fifteen minutes, which are preceded by an hour and a half of hopeless advertisements for wedding dresses, Paris, Audi, men’s shirts, vanilla ice cream, Aspen, sex toys...hollow narration for snobs. Through most of the movie, the only suffering incurred by the protagonists, who are so wealthy that they shop in boutiques where they are served champagne as they pick out clothes, is whether they will make the evening more pleasant with a butt plug, a vibrator or a whip. Instead of Dornan working out on gymnastic equipment, here we have – for lovers of camp – Dornan singing at the piano (this time, unfortunately, we don’t see a poster for a movie like The Chronicles of Riddick). Otherwise, everything between the central couple remains as it was. Anastasia has problems and doesn’t listen. Christian punishes her, which she sometimes likes and sometimes doesn’t. All disagreements in the relationship are resolved by means of expensive gifts. Despite all of that, this particular Fifty Shades is slightly more tolerable than the second instalment in the series, which was ten minutes longer and far more obstinate in its disrespect for storytelling logic and causality between scenes. Though I would not in any case call this art, I find it extraordinary that someone can write and make a film that is so empty that there is nothing in it that you could hate. But it looks good and your brain can comfortably relax. 35%

Jake Hannaford, a passionate hunter of Irish descent, as well as a chauvinist and racist, is not so much an alter ego of Welles as he is of John Huston. The Other Side of the Wind captures the last days of classic Hollywood, or rather the decline of the world represented by macho Huston-type patriarchs. Because of her indigenous origins, Hannaford sees the lead actress of his film as an exotic exhibit and mockingly calls her “Pocahontas”. The actress initially reacts with hateful looks and later vents her frustration by shooting at figurines. Hannaford’s publicist, based on film critic Pauline Kael (who couldn’t stand Welles), is not reluctant to engage in open verbal confrontation with the director when she repeatedly points out the macho posturing that he hides behind. The women defend themselves and the men are not happy about it. ___ By giving the female characters more space and enabling them to give expression to their sexuality, Welles comes to term not only with Hollywood, but also with his own legacy. Like late-period John Ford, whom Welles greatly admired, he critically reassesses the themes of his earlier films. At the same time, however, doubts arise as to whether the way in which Oja Kodar’s character is presented in Hannaford’s film (sexually aggressive, captivating an inexperienced male protagonist) also says something about Welles. ___ Hannaford's unfinished magnum opus is clearly a parody of the works of American filmmakers who during the New Hollywood era responded diligently to European works by shooting pretentious and incoherent would-be art films packed with eroticism and conspicuous symbolism. More or less naked, beautiful and young actors wordlessly wander around each other in dreamlike interiors and exteriors. It doesn’t seem to matter that the characters don’t follow the sequences of Hannaford’s film in the right order (if anyone actually has any idea what the order is supposed to be). As Welles divulged in an interview, he shot the film with a mask on, as if he wasn’t himself. Therefore, why should we associate with him what Hannaford’s work says about women and female sexuality? ___ The parodic imitative style, which was not peculiar to Welles, was due also to the raw, intentionally imperfect hand-held shots from a party, reminiscent of the then fashionable cinema-verité. Completed long after Welles’s death, the film is basically a combination of two styles that Welles would not have employed. The question of who Jake Hannaford was (like the question of who Charles Foster Kane was in Citizen Kane) is less relevant in this context than the question of who the creator is and who is imitating whom, which Welles quite urgently asks in the mockumentary F for Fake, which, with its fragmentary style, has the most in common with The Other Side of the Wind. ___ For example, Peter Bogdanovich, who was considered to be an imitator of Welles in the 1970s, plays Hannaford’s most diligent plagiarist in the film. The defining of his character through imitation of someone else, however, is done ad absurdum, when he occasionally begins to imitate James Cagney or John Wayne in interviews with journalists. Though Welles incorporates media images of influential figures into his film, he also ridicules them as improbable and untruthful. All of these contradictions could be part of an effort to offer, instead of the retelling of one person’s life story, an expression of doubtfulness about the ability to recognise who someone really is. ___ Though, thanks to Netflix, Welles’s film can theoretically be seen by far more viewers than would have been possible at the time of its creation, the manner of its presentation by the streaming company recalls a moment from Hannaford’s party, when the producer lays down reels of film and says to those interested in a screening, “Here it is if anybody wants to see it”. Netflix helped to finish the film and raised its cultural capital by presenting it at a prestigious festival, and then more or less abandoned it, as if cinephiles who love more demanding older films were not a sufficiently attractive audience segment. ___ With Welles’s involvement, the film, which was completed 48 years after it was started, would have perhaps been more coherent, had a more balanced rhythm and conveyed a less ambiguous message. At the same time, however, all of its imperfections draw our attention to its compilation-like nature, or rather the convoluted circumstances of its creation – we think about who is in charge of the work, who created it (perhaps Jake Hannaford, whose “Cut!” is heard after the closing credits) and what it says about him, which was probably Welles’s intention. The Other Side of the Wind is a good promise of a great film. 80%