ElMaruecan82

Having had the opportunity to watch "Chaos" by Coline Serreau, I share the viewpoint that despite the commendable acting and the director's laudable intentions, the film ironically suffers from its chaotic narrative structure. The film attempts to tackle four dramatic themes that could each independently sustain a compelling narrative: the decay of bourgeois couple relationships, the breakdown of family ties within the same social class, the tragedies of young Maghrebi women forced into marriage, and a crescendo into the oppression of women universally, across all ages and backgrounds.

However, the execution falls short as these themes are delivered in a jarringly mixed tone-shifting between comedy, drama, and even action thriller elements, ending in a tone of pseudo-humanistic denunciation. The mishmash of genres and tones results in a convoluted film, where potentially powerful ideas clash rather than coalesce into a cohesive narrative.

One particularly troubling scene involves a young girl being inspected like livestock to underscore the idea that Eastern women are enslaved and owned by men, a depiction that dangerously skews towards caricature rather than a nuanced portrayal of reality. Such a portrayal not only disrupts the narrative but also misrepresents complex cultural issues, risking credibility for the sake of provocation.

In summary, "Chaos" is a film that cannot be ignored but is plagued by a bewildering script and an overly audacious controversy that is too extreme to be taken seriously. The film's sole focus seems to be a systematic denunciation of the male gender, presented in a resolutely feminist critique that almost borders on manicheism. This film is a clear example of how a narrative can become lost when it tries to juggle too many themes without a solid structural foundation.

Having had the opportunity to watch "Chaos" by Coline Serreau, I share the viewpoint that despite the commendable acting and the director's laudable intentions, the film ironically suffers from its chaotic narrative structure. The film attempts to tackle four dramatic themes that could each independently sustain a compelling narrative: the decay of bourgeois couple relationships, the breakdown of family ties within the same social class, the tragedies of young Maghrebi women forced into marriage, and a crescendo into the oppression of women universally, across all ages and backgrounds.

However, the execution falls short as these themes are delivered in a jarringly mixed tone-shifting between comedy, drama, and even action thriller elements, ending in a tone of pseudo-humanistic denunciation. The mishmash of genres and tones results in a convoluted film, where potentially powerful ideas clash rather than coalesce into a cohesive narrative.

One particularly troubling scene involves a young girl being inspected like livestock to underscore the idea that Eastern women are enslaved and owned by men, a depiction that dangerously skews towards caricature rather than a nuanced portrayal of reality. Such a portrayal not only disrupts the narrative but also misrepresents complex cultural issues, risking credibility for the sake of provocation.

In summary, "Chaos" is a film that cannot be ignored but is plagued by a bewildering script and an overly audacious controversy that is too extreme to be taken seriously. The film's sole focus seems to be a systematic denunciation of the male gender, presented in a resolutely feminist critique that almost borders on manicheism. This film is a clear example of how a narrative can become lost when it tries to juggle too many themes without a solid structural foundation.

I never really cared for the Disney sequels trend, nor did I care for a sequel to "Cinderella" for that matter. To put it simply, I'm a product of the Disney Renaissance era and I grew up with all the classics. By the time I reached my early twenties, I couldn't care less for modernized versions of classic fairy tales. As far as I was concerned, "The Jungle Book" ended with Baloo and Bagheera cheerfully leaving the village while singing "The Bare Necessities" and Mowgli never came back (and the sequel didn't change my mind!)

You get the point-watching a Disney sequel was never a necessity (bare or not), and my bumping into "Cinderella III: A Twist in Time" was purely accidental. But some accidents are pretty fortunate. Watching the sequel for the second time, I realize that Cinderella was actually a perfect candidate for a sequel. It ended up having two, and the 2007 one, with a twisted premise and a more promising title than the insipid "Dreams Come True", gloriously concluded the trend of direct-to-video sequels. Although these sequels weren't exactly highlights in Disney's history, "A Twist in Time" was certainly a fine conclusion. In fact, the film stands alone as one of the most enchanting and entertaining Disney films.

The story is the kind that, with just a simple pitch, could spark enthusiasm in any writer's room. I imagine the screenwriters discussing the problem of going back to the end of a fairy tale and picking up from there. After all, "they lived happily ever after" is such a definitive statement that it seems to forbid any exploration of what comes next. They tried with "Cinderella II", but I barely remember enough of it to form an opinion. How do you continue a story that found the perfect closure with the villain defeated and the princess and prince living happily ever after? Well, one of the writers must have come up with the solution: "Hey, how about we go back before the resolution and change the outcome?"

That's quite simple: a twist in time. And that's why the film immediately grabbed my enthusiasm. I'm a sucker for alternate realities, timelines and history-rewriting plots. The premise of Cinderella not putting her foot in the slipper, while one of the stepsisters does, was exciting. It allowed for a villainous triumph with Lady Tremaine telling Cinderella she's too late. We didn't grow up cynical, but the fairy tale format is so codified that anything subverting the tropes is welcome (this is probably why we enjoy fairy tale parodies so much).

So, when Anastasia gets hold of the Fairy Godmother's magic wand, giving Lady Tremaine the power to alter history, the film had already hooked me. The first two minutes with the singing are a bit fluffy, but the story kicks into gear right after that when Anastasia steals the magic wand and Bobbidies the Fairy Godmother into stone, the rest is history (re-history actually) and Lady Tremaine takes her daughters to the castle. But let's pause for a moment on the pivotal shoe scene.

You've got to love how Lady Tremaine manipulates the Grand Duke to rush through the process, knowing that Cinderella will eventually show up. She doesn't even bother investigating how Cinderella escaped her locked room; instead, she uses the advantage of time. Her reaction when Cinderella arrives too late is a clever callback to the iconic "Gotcha!" moment from the first film, when Cinderella revealed the other slipper (which in an ironic twist of fate gets broken in the new reality).

The rest of the film builds on its exciting premise. It gives much-needed depth to Prince Charming, a character who was rather one-dimensional in the original. When he sees Anastasia wearing the slipper, he finally comes to the realization even the most passionate fans of the story have: any girl could fit the slipper. But then, Tremaine uses the magic wand to alter his memory, intensifying the conflict. Now, it's up to Cinderella to reclaim her love and earn her happy ending. After all, she didn't have much to do in the first film. Here, we get a more determined, proactive Cinderella willing to do everything to get her prince back, revealing a stronger side of her personality.

In a way, choosing Cinderella for this alternate-reality story was perfect. It allows her to overcome her passivity from the original. Despite being a Disney film, Cinderella didn't rely on life-threatening situations, so "A Twist in Time" could turn Lady Tremaine from an ordinary villain into a powerful one with a magic wand -in other words, a witch- highlighting her true evil nature. Even with this potential for failure, the film works because it gives one key character some added depth... and it's quite the deiightful coincidence to have another Anastasia pretending to be a princess.

Anastasia, who once tormented Cinderella, steps into Cinderella's shoes- literally and figuratively. The scene where she realizes that Prince Charming is genuinely kind to her becomes a touching moment of epiphany. Oddly enough, I stopped focusing on her physical appearance and found something deeper and more sympathetic in her character. Maybe she's just your average girl who doesn't have the beauty of a Disney princess but dreams of finding her own prince.

It's no easy feat to create a film about alternate realities, or a fairy tale, or an action movie, but "Cinderella III" subverts expectations and delivers a wonderful redemption arc for Anastasia, while allowing Cinderella to grow beyond her stereotypical pretty princess status. Every character wins something, even the King. Some characters, like the mice and Lucifer, don't change much, but they're still delightful in their familiar roles. The magic of this film lies in its human characters and emotional depth, and it shows us that there's more creativity and fun to be found in rewriting a classic than in simply writing a new story.

This episode is a masterpiece of dark humor and touches on an uncomfortable truth: you can be deserving, but that doesn't mean everything is owed to you. Grimes struggled, faced countless obstacles, and comforted himself with the false belief that his merit and talent would open doors for him. He didn't realize that this mindset made him arrogant, distant, and deprived him of the social ease that Homer seems to embody. Worse still, his obsession with success made him bitter about his own failures and envious of others' achievements, which only made him more insufferable. The poor guy-his only "moment of glory," his own funeral, was even overshadowed by Homer.

This brilliantly portrays the irony of Grimes' life: despite his hard work and sacrifices, his fixation on merit blinds him to the importance of humility and social intelligence. It's a cautionary tale about the dangers of entitlement, showing that success isn't just about being deserving, but also about how you connect with others-and sometimes, that laid-back, carefree attitude wins the day, much to Grimes' tragic dismay.

A brilliant, albeit dark, episode of the Simpsons' Golden Age with the closing "Change the channel, Marge" as the cherry of a poisoned cake.

1. The short film showcases the powerhouse trio of Mickey Mouse, Goofy, and Donald Duck, each a well-established character by 1937. Mickey is the earnest do-gooder, Donald embodies the volatile and comically frustrated everyman, while Goofy is the lovable, bumbling oaf with a distinctive laugh. In "Clock Cleaners," each character gets to shine in distinct segments, culminating in a final, uproarious scene where their unique personalities converge.

2. The timing is impeccable, fittingly for a cartoon set in a clock. The film opens with Mickey whistling a catchy tune (just after the clock strikes 3 o'clock), setting the stage for three segments: Mickey's antics with a stork, Donald's battle with a stubborn spring, and Goofy's acrobatics. The latter sequence, in particular, solidified the film's iconic status with Goofy's hilarious stunts.

3. The gags build up in a crescendo. Disney cleverly begins with Mickey, often seen as the more straightforward character. His attempts to deal with the stork may not be the height of comedy, but they serve to set the stage. In the opening scene, Mickey's circular movements around the clock hands add a layer of visual humor, emphasizing the scale and intricacy of the clock's interior. The stork's antics, while predictable, still manage to utilize Mickey's potential, especially when he becomes the straight man in the climactic scene with Goofy.

4. Donald's interaction with the spring is a masterpiece of sound comedy. The spring mockingly echoes Donald's phrases, such as "says who?" (misinterpreted by Donald as a challenge) and "says I," leading to a comedic escalation. This segment could easily have become repetitive, but it delights in the details, like Donald's head getting caught in a gear and his subsequent frantic shaking, which reaches even his hat. This scene is deeply embedded in my childhood memories, its melody evoking laughter every time I hear it.

5. Credit goes to the sound editing, which perfectly captures the myriad mechanical noises-the ticking of gears, the ringing bells, and more. Released during a period when Disney was innovating in animation, the sound design in "Clock Cleaners" is spot-on, enhancing every comedic beat.

6. The animation itself is stunning, starting with vertiginous shots of a clock tower that seems taller than the Empire State Building-a testament to the exaggeration that is the soul of animation. The characters float, jump, and walk precariously on the edges of the clock, reminiscent of Harold Lloyd's famous stunts. This creates a genuine sense of danger, despite the zany context, making us fear for their safety even as we laugh.

7. A standout moment is Goofy's solo sequence, where, after being hit multiple times by the Jacquemart figure, he ends up inside the bell singing "Loudly the Bell in the Old Tower Rings." The moment where Goofy, perched precariously on a plank with a bar of soap and a ladder, teeters on the brink of disaster is both poetic and hilariously absurd. The animation defies logic for the sake of comedy, with objects seemingly held in place by sheer whimsy.

8. This sequence is a shining moment for Goofy, who steals the show without uttering a word. It demonstrates his comedic brilliance and why he was such a valuable character for Disney. I recall a Disney program featuring Goofy's acrobatic scene, which has become an instant classic, even as Mickey continues to play the heroic role.

9. Some might think Donald is underused, but his role in the climax-where Goofy falls and bounces back to safety, inadvertently rescuing Mickey-is pivotal. The final scene, where all three characters return to the clock's inner workings, specifically interacting with the gear train and the Jacquemart figures, concludes with them shaking their bottoms to the tune of "Streets of Cairo." This ending not only resolves the plot with a callback to earlier gags but also provides a perfect, nonsensical harmony among the trio.

10. "Clock Cleaners" is a pinnacle of animation. On the surface, it might seem minimalist, set entirely within a clock tower, but it boasts rich graphics and cohesive animation. Disney's talent for bringing inanimate objects to life-whether a sleepy stork, a mischievous spring, a cogwheel, or a mechanical statue-is on full display, showcasing their readiness for the full-length features like "Snow White."

11. The short is consistently hilarious from beginning to end, with no wasted time or unnecessary filler.

12. It's a classic of my childhood, one I watched and laughed at with my dad, and I never tire of rewatching it. Definitely a cartoon that rocks... around the clock!

"Donald's Crime" stands out as a masterpiece in the annals of animation, presenting an atmospheric plunge into the surreal and noir realms rarely seen in the genre. This 1945 animated short film, produced by Walt Disney, encapsulates the pinnacle of Donald Duck's character development and storytelling within the animated medium. Donald Duck, already a beloved figure, finds his persona deepened and complexified through this intriguing narrative, making it a definitive piece for fans and animation enthusiasts alike.

From the onset, "Donald's Crime" envelops the viewer in a shadowy, almost dream-like atmosphere, reminiscent of the finest crime noir films of its time. The animation style, with its rich use of light and shadow, mirrors the inner turmoil and moral conflict faced by Donald. The surreal quality is further enhanced by the story's focus on a seemingly trivial crime: stealing his nephews' piggy bank. This petty theft, driven by Donald's desire to impress Daisy with a night out, spirals into a psychological exploration that is both humorous and haunting.

The narrative cleverly delves into Donald's psyche, illustrating his descent into guilt and paranoia with a deft touch. The surrealist elements, characteristic of Tex Avery's influence, are masterfully employed to create a literal vision of Donald's conscience grappling with his actions. The animation peaks as it visualizes his inner conflict, making the viewer oscillate between empathy and amusement.

The karmic twist that ties the story together is not only satisfying but also thought-provoking. Donald's crime, though petty, leads to a night of unrest, haunted by his conscience. This moral undercurrent, presented with a light touch, resonates deeply, making the film memorable and impactful. The final resolution, where Donald faces the consequences of his actions, adds a layer of moral clarity that elevates the short from mere entertainment to a significant cultural artifact.

The film's ability to weave such a deep and engaging story within its brief runtime is a testament to the talent and vision of its creators. It is no surprise that "Donald's Crime" was nominated for an Academy Award. While it ultimately lost to Tom and Jerry's "Quiet Please!," which is commendable in its own right, "Donald's Crime" arguably surpasses it in ambition and memorability. The complexity and emotional depth achieved in this short film remain unparalleled, making it a standout in Donald Duck's filmography.

For fans like myself, Donald Duck is more than just a cartoon character; he embodies a blend of relatable flaws and endearing charm. "Donald's Crime" captures this essence perfectly, showcasing Donald at his most vulnerable and human. The film not only entertains but also leaves a lasting impression, underscoring the timeless appeal of Donald Duck.

In conclusion, "Donald's Crime" is a peak in animation history, blending surrealism, crime noir, and psychological depth into a compelling narrative. It stands as a testament to the innovative spirit of its time and remains a beloved classic, cherished by fans for its artistic and narrative value.

The French film "Tomboy," directed by Céline Sciamma, is a delicate work that delves into the turmoil of adolescence with remarkable authenticity. Through the story of Laure, a young girl who presents herself as a boy to her new friends, the film subtly explores issues of identity, gender fluidity, and the role-playing games that teenagers engage in to find their place.

Sciamma's naturalistic approach to camerawork and direction allows the raw emotions of adolescence to take center stage. The camera's unflinching gaze lingers on the face of the remarkable Zoé Héran, who portrays Laure with a depth of vulnerability and inner conflict that is truly captivating. Her every furtive glance and subtle expression convey the profound malaise and confusion that come with navigating the complexities of gender and self-discovery at such a tender age.

Far from sugarcoating or sensationalizing its subject matter, "Tomboy" handles the delicate themes with a refreshing honesty and nuance. The film avoids easy resolutions or heavy-handed messaging, instead inviting viewers to empathize with Laure's journey and the universal experiences of adolescence - the search for acceptance, the desire to belong, and the constant push-and-pull between asserting one's individuality and conforming to societal norms.

Notably, "Tomboy" also offers a nuanced portrayal of the parent-child dynamic, highlighting the eternal gap that often exists between adolescents and their parents. While Laure's parents are depicted as loving and well-intentioned, their inability to fully understand their child's inner turmoil serves as a poignant reminder of the challenges faced by families navigating the complexities of gender and identity.

Despite its sensitive subject matter, "Tomboy" is ultimately a film about the universal experiences of adolescence, rather than a political manifesto. Sciamma's deft touch ensures that the story remains grounded in the emotional realities of its characters, inviting viewers to connect with their struggles and triumphs on a deeply human level.

Unfortunately, some conservative minds viewed the screening of this film in a school setting with disdain, leading to its cancellation. It is deplorable that intolerance and prejudice have shattered the opportunity to offer our youth a window into the complex world of adolescence, depicted with such sensitivity and realism in "Tomboy." Far from promoting any agenda, this film simply invites empathy and understanding of the inner turmoil that agitates our teenagers.

In these times when open-mindedness and acceptance of diversity are more necessary than ever, it is regrettable to see such a cinematic masterpiece censored by the fear of the unknown. Sciamma's delicate handling of the subject matter, coupled with the raw authenticity of the performances and camerawork, make "Tomboy" a powerful and important work of art that deserves to be seen and discussed.

Let us hope that the future holds more opportunities to explore these crucial themes through art, without hindrance or hasty judgments. For it is only through open dialogue and a willingness to understand perspectives different from our own that we can truly bridge the gaps that divide us and foster a more compassionate, inclusive society.

I'm surprised it took me over four decades of existence and three decades of movie-loving to finally watch "A Nightmare on Elm Street," a seminal horror classic I was familiar with ever since my childhood. Indeed, I first encountered Freddy Krueger in a youth magazine that included a plastic replica of his infamous claws. My initial reaction upon seeing the monster's face was "isn't that the actor who plays Dennis Shotefer in the series "Downtown?" (I guess I was more of a TV kid back then).

Despite my growing interest in horror films, particularly slasher movies like "Friday the 13th," my first attempt to watch "Elm Street" ended when I accidentally picked up a modern remake instead of the original. I didn't do much to get the original. Perhaps because the genre felt too familiar; once you've seen one, you've seen them all (so I guessed). Not to mention the "Simpsons" parody with Groundskeeper Willie as Freddy, which added a layer of humor to the character's menacing image.

Yet, the real Freddy, with his striped sweater, burnt face, and nightmarish demeanor, represents more than just horror clichés contained in one character. This is a film that demands to be experienced and that I developed a more 'gourmet' taste fitted the film's high-quality production. It's not surprising, coming from Wes Craven, who aimed to transcend typical horror films, much like John Carpenter.

Even in 1984, it's probable that the audience was well-educated on the genre to be expected to scream at any crime. You can tell by watching the film that Craven knew what his audiences' tastes to better subvert them. I must admit that I didn't expect originality from the openin, while setting the tone with the monster appearing in the opening nightmare I felt it was just pure exposition that the cliché catapult wake-up confirmed.

But there's more to appreciate: the film establishes its tone, introducing the monster in young Tina Gray's nightmare, cleverly misleading us to believe Amanda Wyss would play the heroine. This switch in perspective is akin to the narrative technique used in "Psycho" with Marion Crane as we get the first shock with the graphic portrayal of Tina's demise, before refocusing on Heather Langenkamp's character, Nancy Thompson, who is not the typical damsel in distress. She's a proactive heroine trying to unravel Freddy Krueger's mystery.

The dynamics among the teenagers, including Johnny Depp in his debut film role as Glen Lantz, Tina's boyfriend, add depth to the characters. These are not your average teenagers; they have their personalities, their traits; they're awkward, shy, and some how we get accustomed to them as the film progresses to the moment where Tina is eviscerated by an unknown presence (unseen since it only appears in her nightmares).

Freddy Krueger, a villain who only appears in dreams, embodies a unique horror concept. Indeed, Craven's script explores the terrifying notion that the safest place-your bed-can be the most dangerous. This premise is effective, especially as it positions the parents in ironical positions where their decisions critically impact their children's safety. Craven's idea has allowed the story to explore different territories where parents act foolishly from the story's perspective.

One constant example is Nancy's Lieutenant father (John Saxon) who believes Tina's boyfriend Rod (Nick Corri) is the killer and never listens to his daughter even after Rod dies mysteriously in his cell. To keep a certain balance, not every parent is useless: Nancy's mother (Ronee Blakley) is there to provide a backstory for Freddy, who was a sort of urban legend, and gives some depth to the relationship, not to mention her powerful portrayal of alcoholism.

"A Nightmare on Elm Street" is a terrific thriller where tension slowly escalates, enhanced by powerful imagery: who can forget the iconic claws emerging from the bath or a victim literally swallowed by his bed? With the right amount of jump scares, the narrative keeps viewers on edge, constantly guessing between dream and reality. The setting, from basements to bathrooms, enhances the audio-visual experience, especially with the use of eeries sounds such as the metallic claws similar to nails on a blackboard. And Robert Englund's portrayal of Freddy Krueger is compelling, earning him a spot among the most iconic villains in cinema history.

The film's ability to blend horror with clever plot twists and character development makes it a quintessential horror movie that transcends its era. Englund's Freddy is not just a monster; he is a chilling symbol of the shadows lurking in the American suburban dream, becoming a fixture in the landscape of cultural villains. The balance of supernatural terror and psychological horror, combined with Craven's flair for suspense, crafts a narrative that is as much about the inner fears of the characters as it is about the external threat posed by Freddy.

The use of innovative special effects, particularly the surreal and grotesque dream sequences, pushes the boundaries of 80s horror filmmaking while commenting on the era's social issues, like the breakdown of family structures and the mistrust between generations, which are encapsulated in the dysfunctional relationships between the teenagers and their parents. The sound design, featuring the now-iconic children's rhyme warning of Freddy's approach ("one, two, Freddy's coming for you"), deepens the ominous atmosphere of the fil, building suspense and a foreboding sense of inevitability that haunts the viewer when the ending credits roll.

Overall, "A Nightmare on Elm Street" not only entertains but also invites introspection on the nature of fear and the concept of evil. It remains a landmark film in the horror genre, continuing to influence filmmakers and captivate audiences decades after its release. The legacy of Freddy Krueger endures, proving that our deepest fears are those that we must face in the vulnerable solitude of sleep, where no one can escape their own subconscious.

This film is a profound reminder that sometimes, the true terror lies not just in the darkness of the night but in the darkest corners of our minds.

Charles Shyer's "Baby Boom" skates perilously close to familiar territory, treading the well-worn path carved out by the likes of "Three Men and a Baby" and "Working Girl." It sails the cinematic seas with its cargo: a premise so comfortably predictable, it's practically wearing pajamas-a yuppie maven who must master the fine art of child-rearing when a baby falls into her lap like an unexpected inheritance.

In this cinematic nursery, penned by Nancy Meyers (with a co-writing credit to the director), the film gleefully plays patty-cake with clichés. We watch as J. C. Wiatt, a woman so polished she could double as a mannequin for a cosmetics line, convinces her boss, Fritz Curtis (a robust Sam Wanamaker), of her undying commitment to corporate conquest.

Admittedly, the opening act tested the limits of my paternal patience, as it unfolded a spectacle that I, a father on the cusp of doubling his brood, found somewhat trying. Observing J. C.'s all-thumbs baby handling was akin to watching someone juggle eggs with a similar lack of finesse. Perhaps my view is tinted by the lens of fatherhood, or maybe it's the concession to cinema's enduring double standard: clumsiness in childcare is seemingly more palatable when it's the three men fumbling the baby.

As the tale unfolds, the infant transforms into a briefcase-bursting burden, unsettling J. C.'s boardroom ballet to the point of farce, until, at a crucial juncture, she decides to embrace the chaos. Her decision, though, feels as manipulated as a puppet on a string, thanks to the contrived unpleasantness of the potential adoptive parents. The narrative railroaded her into motherhood; the refusal to surrender her unexpected charge to likable alternatives is conspicuously absent.

Enter Diane Keaton, whose natural charm in such roles should be bottled and sold as elixir. Even when playing an accidental mother, her presence commands the screen-her authentic awkwardness becomes an asset, not a flaw. The story, too, finds its stride, offering a cheeky critique of corporate ladder-climbing and the balance of power within a patriarchal business world.

The plot takes a detour to Vermont, where Keaton's character finds her true calling not in the boardroom but in the heartland of America. She rolls up her sleeves and dives into the earthy business of apple sauce alchemy. In a quaint town that shuns city slicker success, she discovers the true spice of life, becoming a matriarch of her own making, with only a dash of romance with a local vet (the late Sam Shepard) to season the pot.

This romance simmers on the stove without boiling over, allowing the late Shepard's rustic charm to whisk J. C. away from the world of shoulder-padded sharks. "Baby Boom" stirs the pot of old-school romantic comedy, bringing to the table a dish that is both comfortingly nostalgic and seasoned with a sprinkle of modern wit.

Yet, it must be confessed, beyond Keaton's warm and winsome performance, it's the little girl who absconds with the audience's hearts. She's the sugar in the film's apple sauce, the undeniably sweet reminder of the '80s cinematic palate, where power suits and Wall Street wins often sidestepped the simple but enduring flavors of traditional values.

We've left George Banks mourning the loss of his precious little darling in the first "Father of the Bride" movie and what do you know, they're just coming to announce something "big" and I have a theory: the announcement is actually handled like the film's first gag. Think about it: either you know the workings of matrimony and can easily anticipate that the next step after a wedding is a crawling toothless creature keeping you awake at 4 am (especially if the time span is four years), or there's the possibility that you've looked upon the poster, or maybe, you just know that the film is based on Vincente Minnelli's "Father's Little Dividend" the follow-up to the original "Father of the Bride".

How is the pregnancy a gag? Well, it is one in the sense that George Banks, a man entering his sixtieth decade of existence is still incapable to figure what the news will be... and seems incapable to conceive (no pun intended) that Annie is a grown-up now. His denial of the mere possibility of a pregnancy is absurd enough to raise the earliest chuckles and tell us that the film will swim in the same waters than the first. Yes indeed, it's Steve Martin once again as the unmovable conservative force facing the unstoppable cycle of life. And so when everybody's reunited to hear the news, the way he looks at his son-in-law as some cartoon villain who put the final stamp of his "ownership" is quite similar to the quick flash of John Candy as the devil in "Planes, Trains and Automobiles".

Spirit-wise, we're in a film tailor-made for Steve Martin, the man against which the world seems to have concocted a personal conspiracy and it is a fine continuation of the original and a reminder of the charm of these 90s movies where narratives that could be deemed as old-fashioned by today's standards were still considered viable. Don't get me wrong, the premise is rather ludicrous and I don't mean the pregnancy of Nina Banks but the fact that it's synchronized with her own daughter's pregnancy. It doesn't take a medium to guess that the two women will lose waters within the same timeline or as Roger Ebert put it (more eloquently): No prizes for guessing that they may find themselves delivering at exactly the same moment. That said, it takes a lot of warmth and writing skills to start with a crazy idea and manage to make everything flow smoothly without letting the viewer ever feel that his intelligence is to be suspended as well as his disbelief.

The first act is basically a retread of "Dividend" with George having a middle-age crisis and trying to convince himself that he's still got it. He goes to the gymnasium, dyes his hair and tries to resurrect his lost youth through one sensual night with Nina and cinematic laws of pregnancy working, guess what happens next. Maybe you don't remember that episode of "Little House on the Prairie" when Caroline Ingalls thought she was "late" because of pregnancy but it just happened to be the menopause. Well, this episode must have marked Nancy Meyers for the same misunderstanding is used in reverse. And it's only fair that the writer of "Baby Boom" wanted her muse Diane Keaton to embody a real form of motherhood. Diane Keaton still looks young at 45 but the effort to 'olden her' through her fashion style and haircut makes indeed the pregnancy a little more awkward.

But awkwardness be damned, these little touches never really alter the enjoyment for the pregnancy is never treated as a source of cheap gags and since the film recycles every character from the original, there's a certain comfort in watching achieving people trying to reach states of happiness, making us happy by proxy. There are some serious moments here and there, one involving Nina putting George in his place and telling him to consider her pregnancy with a little more respect and various subplots disseminated here and there, most notably one involving the house sale to a foreigner played by a "youngish" Eugene Levy. Nothing quite new under the horizon but there's something exciting about the presence of Martin Short as the extravagant wedding planner (turned house decorator for the need of the plot). Short and Martin share many great moments especially a touching one when Banks discovers the future baby's room.

Of course, the film had to commit a little mistake by injecting another slapstick sequence, involving sleeping pills taken at the wrong time, and I think this could have undermined the film. Many comedies that contain pregnancy commit the cardinal sin of handling a universally touching moment with cheap grotesque jokes but everything goes well in "Father of the Bride II" and it owes a lot to the presence of Jane Adams as the doctor charged of the delivery. The actress plays her role straight without any awareness of all the goofy stuff around and in her own humble way, she elevates the final moments of the film. Talk about a great casting.

And it's for touches like this that once again, you can't just dismiss movies like "Father of the Bride". While not as good as its predecessors, it's enjoyable and simply said, fun to watch. It's also interesting to see Kieran Culkin having more interesting lines than in the first film revealing some better acting dispositions than his brother, whose stardom was already fading. Kimberley Williams is always as enchanting and irritating as the Annie Banks but I have a soft spot for Diane Keaton who's not given the easier role and pulls it off with sweetness, credibility and a good sense of humor. What this great actress can't do I don't know.

Not a masterpiece of originality, but as a film about two deliveries, "Father of the Bride II" does deliver.

As soon as I finished watching the 90s version of "Father of the Bride", I felt the urge to revisit my review of the original Vincente Minnelli's film, starring Spencer Tracy and Liz Taylor as the titular characters, and I couldn't believe how my feelings in a five-year span hadn't changed one bit (indeed once a father, always a father). The only difference is that five years ago I had only one daughter from a previous marriage, now I have a second and a #3 expected for June... I'm definitely bound to be thrice a father of bride but it's still about my oldest girl who's the closer time-wise to bring me the joy or either the heartbreak to see her become another man's princess.

Watching Steve Martin as George Banks, I could feel him in every mimic, in every crisped expression or angry intonation of his priceless monologues, in every tender look he gave to his daughter Annie... and that, folks, is the power of being a girl's father, it's a bond that goes beyond what you can imagine: from the day you see that little creature, you want to keep her for yourself. I guess, a boy is different, you want him to outgrow you, to be tougher and bigger but a girl is that little diamond you want to keep preciously in your little heart-shaped box. That's the way it is, and Charles Shyer's "Father of the Bride", slightly rewritten by Nancy Meyers who has the instinct for rom-com, is an enchanting exploration of paternal instinct put at the stakes of the institution of marriage. Or when you stop being "pops" and become the old man behind the young go-getter who came, saw and conquered your darling.

And so, the whole film, set in these bucolic postcard-like small towns, relies on Steve Martin's comedic timing and it's certainly the best film to showcases his range after "Planes, Trains and Automobiles". Martin has an uncanny ability to play "mature" men finding chaos in rather ordinary situations, and it's precisely because everything is so normal and mundane that his over-the-top reaction are hilarious. If anything, he doesn't imitate Spencer Tracy who was a rock but his infantile attachment to the status quo and refusal to see his girl as an adult that let all the ridicule erupt in a geyser of laughs.

And Diane Keaton as Nina Banks is the perfect counterpart for (like I always said) she always exuded that tender gentleness, that ability to sweep all the negativity through a radiant smile. You can tell she's happy for her daughter because she sees her happiness beyond her own. And she's caring enough to let her husband get a free pass, until the limit is crossed. Anyway her chemistry with Martin is tangible and as Annie, Kimberly Williams-Paisley has that little something so we can see the little flower from her father's perspective and yet she's confident, assertive and strikes as the one who is able to stand for herself while sweet enough not to hurt him, she finds the right balance and something in her smile and her frailness embodies a certain universal idea of a daughter, while Liz Taylor had already that Goddess-like beauty. Other cast members include Martin Short as the wedding planner Franck Eggelhoffer with such an improbable accent you'd wonder how many continents his ancestry covers and Kieran Culkin who's given a few funny lines here and there (he'll be more present in the sequel)

The film goes off all the stages of the wedding planning, nothing quite fresh whether you've seen the original or not, but it doesn't try to revolutionize a concept, we get the encounter with the happy future father-in-law and I must say George Newbern is certainly more memorable than his 50s counterpart and is quite believable as a man who could win Annie's heart. Then we get all the financial struggles, George trying to save money by using his own wedding's suit, and a few bits of physical comedy. Speaking of which, If there is one scene that could have been removed without hurting the narrative, that would be that pointless slapstick sequence with the new in-laws (Peter Michael Goetz and Kate McGregor-Stewart) involving a wallet, two dogs and a swimming pool, that part was totally unnecessary and beneath the story, Steve Martin deserved better and fortunately, the film gets rapidly on tracks, so we can feel for the man and his growing claustrophobia as he's surrounded by all the organizational mayhem and so in the night before the wedding, we get to the core of the real heartbreak.

Indeed, it's during the quieter and most tender moments that you just get what it's all about: a separation.

As I mentioned in the original film: it's all about these moments that set a before and an after and Annie knows well that there's no coming back and that night before the wedding carries a certain gravity. I mentioned the birth of my daughter in my review, I remember right now the last night before she came to the world, I knew it was a special night, the end of a chapter and a new beginning. One could see either the page that closes or the one that opens, you just don't turn the pages easily and that moment of realization, related in voice-over, during the ceremony (almost the same as the first) hit me really hard and redeemed all the little flaws. In fact, calling "Father of the Bride" a remake is pointless since it tells a rather universal story that any father can relate to.

I could relate five years ago, I still do and I cherish these years where I can still consider my daughter my special little girl...

What Denis Villeneuve's "Arrival" achieves is deceptively simple yet remarkable: it employs a rather common archetype of science fiction, the arrival of a new form of life on Earth, and surrounds it with the usual tropes: military implications, the fear of invasion, even the design of the aliens, which doesn't strike as revolutionary. Yet, the whole first act revolves around a simple issue: communication.

For a while, it didn't take much to establish a form of learning. In "The Day the Earth Stood Still," superhuman intelligence allowed the aliens to speak the language, while in "The War of the Worlds" or "Independence Day," malevolent intentions were established as soon as the first weapon was shot - so much for diplomacy. However, there's a latent feeling of standby, of something waiting to emerge from the silence, creating an unusual yet soothing awkwardness. It relies on one simple question: how can you interact with aliens whose language is unknown to the planet?

I appreciate this approach because it's entirely plausible, and I don't think it has ever been treated with such respect for the notion of language as it was done in the film. It also allows the heroine not to be a super-smart computer geek or an ace pilot trainee but a frail linguist expert who knows she's the best so much that she has all the trick questions to discern between a hack and a genius. She masters most languages and is genuinely curious to discover this new language from the aliens. As Louise Banks, Amy Adams delivers a fantastic performance.

And so, from the very first twenty minutes and the haunting opening, you're immersed in a territory that is familiar yet different. We are in a scenario where the stakes are known, the implications with the atomic bombs and the escalation of violence (several vessels are stationed in various regions of the world) are rendered through the panicky 'Breaking News.' While the military presence can be quite unnerving, Forest Whitaker's performance as Colonel Weber seems to portray a man of reason with professional obligations but willing to give peace a chance. Louise is also joined by Ian Donnelly, a physicist expert who believes science - not language - is the true pillar of civilization.

This dichotomy alone deserves a digression, as it opens two schools of thought: one that science and technology are the basis of civilization and the criteria on which we should judge a nation, which implies the use of force, and language, however, can reveal different visions of life that speak volumes about the way a culture approaches time, life, or whatever is taken for granted. The film will obviously side with Louise's vision if only because her proper use of language, to trick or mislead, is interesting. In one particular scene, she refers to the origin of the word "kangaroo," making a certain point about misunderstanding, and I kept reminding myself that it was an urban legend. That the film uses this known false anecdote to make a point was a clever bit, and the screenplay written by Eric Heisserer, based on the short story "Story of Your Life" by Ted Chiang, deserves accolades for it.

And so it all comes down to the first interactions and their haunting impact on the first discoverers. If the film seems to surf the wave of "plausible" sci-fi such as "Interstellar," I find the same magic as "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" (the original version), where meeting extraterrestrials is clearly shown as a sort of mystical experience. When they first enter the vessel, the laws of gravity cease to exist, suggesting an interesting new domain where science (and therefore language) will have much to face. And so we're embarked on a series of interactions where loud echoes, whizzing whale noises, and writing that takes forms of circles and strange linear patterns form a language yet to be detected. Louise develops a bond with these creatures, coined the heptapodes for their seven feet and the way they seem to splash the words on the big luminous wall.

Needless to say, all technical categories of filmmaking are blessed with competence. The sound editing, sound mixing, and cinematography add credibility to the story. Yet, it's the special effect of the writing that will certainly content most admirers, for Villeneuve really manages to create something new that captures a certain magic and yet plausibility of an extraterrestrial form, leading to the question: what are their intentions? I loved this part so much (I'm a language teacher and have always been interested in languages) that sometimes I wish the film could only be about communication. Some lines of dialogue are intellectually challenging and yet very eloquent and clear. How to ask them a question if they don't understand the notion of questioning, how to ask an intent if you're not sure they never act instinctively and so on and so forth...

The film invites so many thoughts that it's almost underwhelming to see it devolve into the usual races against the clock and apocalyptic scenes... But then one should give credit to that opening and that ending that makes everything come full circle. I dare not add anything about it except to say that the film embraces its own language and manages to slip its way from sci-fi through the supernatural in a very smooth way... But that's the power of the premise; we're eager to believe any payoff that comes from such a patient and methodical build-up, not to mention the chemistry between the characters.

And it's one thing to make the complicity grow between Louise and Ian, but you can even feel the bond between Louise and the two heptapods (Abbott and Costello) in a way that has something of "E. T." and Elliott. In a way, sci-fi has matured a lot in thirty years, but the magic is still here.

Directed by Peter Hyams, "Timecop" showcases special effects that, while not reaching the pinnacle of "Terminator 2," have endured admirably over time. I vividly recall my initial awe when I first watched it. Despite the criticism, credit is due to Hyams for skillfully integrating time travel into the narrative, creating a world where it seamlessly fits. Anyway, the special effects add a layer of credibility.

Viewing the film in the '90s, the presumption that 2004 would be a futuristic universe felt far-fetched, almost imbuing a B-movie ambiance, a sentiment heightened by Van Damme's unmistakable presence. Watching it again in its original version, I couldn't help but be distracted by the thickness of his Belgian accent, so pronounced that a Schwarzenegger-level charisma might have been necessary to pull it off. Couldn't Max Walker just be European? Nevertheless, the film cleverly nods to this linguistic quirk. Despite my personal fondness for Van Damme, it appears that his ambition to break into Hollywood may have clouded his role choices, limiting the potential for more transcendent characters.

That said, the action sequences, while somewhat formulaic, are competently executed, fulfilling their purpose within the film's context. However, the standout performance comes from Ron Silver as the corrupt senator, offering a hybrid between Hans Gruber and Ellis from "Die Hard." Silver's portrayal infuses the antagonist with intensity and charisma, making him a memorable part of the story. It's evident that Silver enjoys his role, and watching him is a delight-he is the quintessential cool-to-hate character.

The opening sequence during the Civil War robbery is another high point, effectively setting the tone and captivating the audience with the implications of time travel. While the film explores the intriguing concept of politics intertwining with time travel, it regrettably falls short of fully realizing this promising premise. The ambitions of the senator add an interesting layer, but script wise, you can tell it's not written by Aaron Sorkin

Mia Sara's solid performance as Max's wife, Melissa, contributes to the film's appeal, although the central romance lacks originality. The somewhat "Back to the Future" retread in the happy ending raises unanswered questions about Van Damme's character and his relationship with his son. The film seems to prioritize showcasing Van Damme's fighting prowess over providing closure to certain plot points, leaving the audience pondering the implications of a new timeline on memories and relationships. If a new timeline offers you a family you know nothing about, what's the point ?

"Timecop" overlooks that by 1994, audiences were well-versed in time travel tropes, and it introduces new rules that may seem arbitrary at first until you realize they're only setting a spectacular demise. The film, undoubtedly a vehicle for Van Damme and enhanced by the presence of the supporting cast (including Bruce McGill and Gloria Reuben) falls short of fully exploring the potential of its promising premise. While a setup for a potential series is apparent, the film lacks a deep dive into the complexities that could arise from its time-traveling political intrigue.

"What's Eating Gilbert Grape" stands as a pivotal film in Leonard Di Caprio's career as it propelled him into stardom (earning him his first Oscar nomination) and proved how valuable he'd be for American cinema alongside "This Boy's Life," co-starring Ellen Barkin and Robert De Niro. The year 1993 marked indeed a significant milestone for Leo, showcasing his extraordinary talent as he skillfully portrayed two distinct adolescents -one navigating an obnoxious and abusive stepfather in the turbulent '60s, and the other, an autistic boy with a penchant for perilous pursuits and a profound need for love.

Directed by Lasse Hallström, this sober yet powerful film provides an intimate glimpse into the lives of an ostracized Midwest family against the backdrop of a small town whose inhabitants vary from the ordinary to the more colorful, if not eccentric, for such a heavy loaded drama needs here and there a few comic reliefs. But despite its all-American setting, Lasse Hallström, a Swedish director, injects a nuanced Bergmanian touch, emphasizing genuine human connections over spectacular emotionality. The film doesn't shy away from intense and deeply moving moments but it's in the quieter ones that we feel totally absorbed by the story and, at the risk of sounding repetitive, the performances.

DiCaprio's portrayal of Arnie, the autistic brother requiring constant supervision, is exceptional -a close companion piece to Dustin Hoffman's "Raymond Babbitt" in "Rain Man", it's natural, complex without any moment left to question the authenticity of this or that action and my partner who's a school life assistant was deeply moved by the performance. But credit goes to the director for the film gracefully tackles the challenges of depicting disability without succumbing to voyeurism, breaking away from clichés and stereotypes. It authentically portrays the irritating aspects of Arnie's condition, such as when he ruins his own birthday cake fueling his big brother Gilbert with enough anger to contemplate the tempting idea of leaving his family.

At this point of the review, it's time to get to the narrative's core: Gilbert Grape, played by Johnny Depp, a young man grappling with his place in a family overshadowed by his handicapped brother. In the same year as Leo's role in "This Boy's Life," Depp also starred in "Arizona Dream," showcasing his emotional range through silent and contained existential anger. Depp proves to be one of the best actors of his generation, especially in non-Burton roles where a simple stare or silence speaks volumes about the torments that inhabit him. His emotional eloquence, or lack thereof, contributes to making Gilbert Grape an enigmatic yet relatable young man. Within the canvas of his difficult life, Grape finds companionship within peculiar characters like the funeral parlor owner, Crispin Glover, and a seductive married woman played by Mary Steenburgen with whom he's got an affair (not that she pulls much effort to hide it). The convergence of these two characters into one unexpected incident takes is rather dark yet even in the darkest moments, a wicked sense of humor sneaks its way into the story, and within the ensuing chaos, Gilbert wrestles with existential questions, torn between escaping his challenging reality and honoring familial duty.

The film deftly explores themes of familial responsibility and the quest for self-discovery. The weight of the matriarch, portrayed without mockery by the brilliant Darlene Cates, becomes a metaphorical pillar in the family dynamic. Her handicap symbolizes her incapability to move, mirroring the family's solidarity, stuck together and unable to move either. The mother, whose love for her children, especially Arnie, is unconditional, shines a light of hope and optimism, emphasizing that even in humble settings, love is a necessary force. But just like Arnie's mental handicap, her physical handicap isn't just a narrative device to makes households cry but an element treated with the utmost force and respect, the mother is a "local attraction" for kids too young to realize their cruelty and yes, her weight isn't just a matter of symbolism, but it's existent, palpable and not without consequences.

The supporting cast also includes Juliette Lewis, a drifter passing by with her nomad mother and who contributes to some tender moments with Gilbert without forcing the romance. Lewis's attempts to break the ice and the heartwarming portrayal of a connection with Gilbert and Arnie, such as swimming or lying down on the grass, evoke genuine empathy and a need for mutual communion in places that have nothing much to offer but invite souls to dig a little deeper into the seemingly nothingness. The film's emotional depth provides a cathartic experience for viewers who resonate with the burdens of their own lives and have a feeling that grass is always greener elsewhere.

Hallström's direction avoids spectacle and resists exploiting the story's tragic elements. Instead, it concludes on a bittersweet note, illuminating the complexities of life and family relationships. "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" serves as a testament to DiCaprio's exceptional talent in his early career and reminds audiences of Johnny Depp's prowess in portraying emotionally resonant characters. In an era where both actors were heartthrobs, this film underscores their commitment to roles prioritizing substance over spectacle, even if the acting itself becomes a spectacle. Indeed, the closing scene, where Arnie confronts one of life's inevitabilities, stands as a poignant showcase of his acting prowess. One can only hope that Depp, after all his troubles, can get back to roles offering depth and authenticity, resonating with audiences who appreciate profound storytelling and genuine performances -a quality DiCaprio maintained throughout his career.

The film not only highlights the talents of its actors but also introduces the director who later made "Hatchi: A Dog's Tale" and "Chocolat," proving a strong capability for portraying ordinary people leading extraordinary lives by overcoming personal burdens and offering profound lessons amid ordinary situations.

The recent film 'Strange World' has garnered attention amidst current discussions surrounding Disney studios. Despite its box office performance, it has sparked diverse opinions, particularly from those who cherish nostalgia. Approaching the movie with an open mind, I found certain aspects that, in my view, hindered its potential connection with the audience.

The film boasts a compelling narrative, a unique setting, and an intriguing twist on family dynamics, following three generations of explorers, the Clades. However, the screenplay's emphasis on progressive elements, while commendable, at times felt forced and distracting. Characters and relationships seemed designed to subvert common tropes, with some plot twists introduced in a way that could overshadow the primary storyline.

The film's visual appeal and endearing characters contribute positively to the viewing experience. While the fantasy elements align with science fiction, they also evoke Miyazaki's environmental themes. However, the film's focus on representation, while essential, occasionally overshadows the adventure element that could have been more prominently explored.

Notably, the film's handling of certain social and political aspects, such as same-sex relationships, raised concerns. The decision to introduce diverse characters is praiseworthy, but the execution left some viewers questioning the authenticity of character reactions. Balancing these elements with the narrative could have enhanced the overall storytelling.

The ending, reminiscent of Indiana Jones, adds an interesting adventure touch to the film. However, the inclusion of social and political aspects, while well-intentioned, could have been more delicately integrated into the story. The film concludes with a nod to a legendary adventure series, yet its potential impact becomes diluted in the narrative's broader socio-political commentary.

In essence, 'Strange World' presents a dynamic premise that, unfortunately, encounters challenges in seamlessly blending its adventurous core with broader societal reflections. While the film has its merits, it prompts discussions on the balance between storytelling and addressing contemporary themes. Each viewer's perspective may vary, and acknowledging diverse opinions is crucial in evaluating the film's impact.

The 2022 adaptation of Erich Maria Remarque's "All Quiet on the Western Front" (or remake of the 1930 Best Picture Winner) seamlessly aligns itself with the illustrious tradition of German war movies that eschew patriotic zeal in favor of unfiltered realism. Much like its predecessors, such as "Das Boot" and "Der Untergang," Edward Berger's film dives headfirst into the stark reality of war, focusing on the intimate struggles of soldiers ensnared in the grim trenches during the twilight of World War I.

Told from the perspective of a once-idealistic young soldier named Paul (Felix Kammerer) the narrative unfolds as his whole promotion gets decimated against the backdrop of the war's waning days, where every passing minute is both a hard-fought victory over impending fate and a poignant reminder that survival hangs by the thinnest thread. The film adeptly captures the visceral horror not just in the act of death itself but in the constant, gnawing anticipation of it. As long as the war persists, the specter of mortality looms, rendering any momentary reprieve temporary at best.

The element of time becomes a palpable and terrifying presence, echoing the sentiments of "Das Boot." Every tick of the clock serves as a grim countdown, underscoring the film's central theme - that until the war concludes, the true end is elusive. This emphasis on time, and the relentless march toward an uncertain future, adds a chilling layer to the narrative, amplifying the fear that saturates the lives of a generation sacrificed to the old-school ambitions of Europe. A standout scene featuring an old general (David Striesow) harks back to Erich von Stroheim's role in "Grand Illusion," aptly encapsulating the demise of a system blinded by nationalistic and military ideals that shaped the WW1 massacres, in fact, the title "Grand Illusion" could be a fitting alternative although it didn't take long for the young soldiers to lose their idealism.

The film boasts a cast of young, relatively unknown German actors who, born a century after their wartime counterparts, embody the tragic legacy of those who fought under atrocious conditions. In particular, Kammerer's ability to convey the emotional toll of war through subtle expressions and powerful moments elevates the viewing experience. The contrast between his intense blue gaze and the bleak, muddy landscape serves as a visual metaphor for the internal and external struggles faced by the character torn between his youthful naivety and the reality of war, while the cooler, more experienced and confident brother-in-arm Kat (Albert Schuch) serves as a stark contrast with his practical nature, resourcefulness and ability to scavenge for supplies in the midst of conflict. Ultimately, Paul, Kat and the others navigate the psychological torture of war, from youthful idealism to the harsh realities of the trenches - a poignant portrayal of a generation caught in the crossfire of history.

And against the backdrop of the ceasefire's imminent signing, the film masterfully captures the agony of the last four days of a war that witnessed relentless death. The trench warfare, portrayed with unflinching detail, symbolizes the pointlessness of life in the face of a conflict where gaining a few centimeters meant the sacrifice of thousands, as a stark reminder of the futility of World War I, a conflict orchestrated by old-school imperialists who failed to grasp the changing times.

James Friend's cinematography contributes significantly to its narrative impact. The visuals, much like its German war film predecessors, craft an immersive and visceral experience. The trench sequences are hauntingly authentic, capturing the grim reality faced by soldiers and underlining the film's overarching themes of sacrifice and the relentless passage of time,, succeeds in elevating the film from a historical drama to a visceral and emotionally charged exploration of the human cost of war. And a skillful use of silence after the battles enables the audience to grasp the profound impact of war on the characters, making the silent moments a powerful tool for conveying the horrors of the Western Front. The absence of background music during moments of death and agony intensifies the gravity of the depicted scenes, allowing the audience to feel the weight of the characters' experiences.

I guess In a world where the memory of historical events can fade, "All Quiet on the Western Front" (2022) serves as a crucial cinematic vessel, delivering a timeless message about the importance of peace and the human toll of armed conflict. It stands out as a great film experience that resonates with its audience on both emotional and intellectual levels.

"Bound" is quite a film, one that effortlessly resurrects the stylized charm from classic noir cinema while injecting a modern 90s twist and a complex labyrynthine plot filled with double crossings motivated by the lowest drivers of human instinct (should I say "Basic"?): greed and lust. The movie, directed by the Wachowskis, revolves around a torrid relationship between two seemingly opposite women, and its mazy and tricky narrative keeps audiences on the edge of their seats.

The complementarity between the two leading ladies, played by Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon, is palpable in every gaze and every skin contact. Tilly's portrayal of the faux ingenue who seamlessly transitions into a femme fatale is nothing short of perfect and a reminder of how truly talented that actress is. Her performance adds layers of intrigue and unpredictability to the storyline while Gina Gershon delivers what can be considered the best role of her career as a believable and tough cookie, bringing depth and authenticity to her character. Talk about a needed role after the "Showgirls" debacle, poor Elizabeth Berkeley didn't have such luck.

Even in a thankless role, Joe Pantoliano shines as a soft gangster trying to navigate the intricacies of the plot involving a briefcase of money and a bunch of gangsters he secretly despises while wrestling with his own insecurities. His nuanced performance adds a layer of humanity to what could have been a stock predictable character. At the end, we pity him without feeling any ounce of sympathy for such poor schmucks are "bound" to be architects of their own demise but "Bound" is typically the kind of experiences where even failure and deception is done with style.

Indeed, the cinematography of "Bound" is stylistically impressive. The film takes you through long and ominous corridors and antechamber-like bedrooms, creating an intimate yet suspenseful atmosphere for the plotting to unfold. The use of black, white, and red hues blends seamlessly, creating a sleazy harmony that perfectly complements the noir aesthetic and compliments the directors' visual flair. But it's as a thriller that "Bound" excels in keeping the audience guessing the moves in a chess-game of a story (there are many shots that recalls chess anyway). The plot takes unexpected turns, and the filmmakers skillfully manipulate the audience's expectations throughout the film. The ending is not only satisfying but also manages to subvert traditional genre conventions, leaving viewers with a sense of both closure and lingering intrigue, not to mention a rather progressive subversion of the damsel-in-distress trope.

Despite its undeniable merits, "Bound" remains criminally underrated in the pantheon of neo-noir cinema. The film's unique blend of style, suspense, and unexpected character dynamics makes it a standout entry in the genre. The Wachowskis' ability to infuse a classic narrative with contemporary sensibilities showcases their storytelling prowess. "Bound" is a gripping and visually striking thriller that deserves more recognition for its contribution to the noir genre.

"White Men Can't Jump" is a 1992 film directed and written by Ron Shelton, presenting a unique character study, on hustling a second of its kind after the classic "Hustler" starring Paul Newman, with a distinctive 90s flavor served with flashy, west coast hip-hop. The movie not only showcases the exceptional dynamics between its central duo, Billy Hoyle (Woody Harrelson) and Sidney Deane (Wesley Snipes), but also brings a refreshing perspective by featuring women as significant characters, rather than merely foils.

The film kicks off with Billy, a former college basketball player, and Sidney, a talented yet cocky player, engaging in a series of competitive basketball matchups. These contests set the stage for a complex and evolving relationship between the two protagonists. Billy's victories over Sidney, both in a half-court team game and a one-on-one shootout for money, create a foundation for the intricate dynamics that follow, and reveal an unexpected chemistry between the two actors, so much that they would star together in three more movies. There's something in Harrelson's capability to play an insecure goofball tormented with personal demons that matches Snipes' straightforward no-nonsense approach to life, making him the inevitable straight man of the comedic buddy duo.

The story takes an interesting turn when it reveals that Billy, along with his live-in girlfriend Gloria Clemente (Rosie Perez), is on the run from mafiosi named the Stucci brothers. This subplot adds a layer of tension to the narrative, interweaving elements of danger with the hustling theme. Gloria, played by Rosie Perez, is not merely a passive character but contributes significantly to the plot, voicing (with her unique unmistakable voice) her concerns about Billy's financial choices. Meanwhile, Sidney aspires to buy a house for his family outside the rough Baldwin Village neighborhood, showcasing his desire for upward mobility. This adds depth to Sidney's character, elevating him beyond the typical hustler archetype while Tyra Ferrell's character, as his wife Rhonda, adds another layer to the narrative by making money a matter of social elevation.

The film delves into the complexities of relationships, as Gloria urges Billy to find a stable job, and Billy must navigate the challenges of honoring his obligations to Sidney although principles are hardly the two men's strongest suits, unless you consider there's some code of honor amongst hustlers. There's a good deal of double crossings between Billy and Sidney until it's finally one thing that cements a certain mutual trust between them and it takes in one word: friendship (not that this friendship will always serve their interests).

Still, the film is about the game, the outdoor basketball tournament and the iconic slam dunk sequence contribute to the exciting sports elements. Moreover, Gloria's unexpected success on "Jeopardy!" With a quirky expertise in "Foods That Begin With the Letter Q" brings humor and unpredictability to the story, showcasing the film's ability to balance various tones and (once again) to allow supporting (or supportive) characters to shine. Besides its capability to draw nuanced and believable characters, one of the film's standout strengths is its ability to blend humor and drama seamlessly. The witty banter and competitive spirit between Billy and Sidney keep the audience engaged, while the underlying themes of friendship, loyalty, and personal growth add depth to the narrative. The movie's success is attributed not only to the strong performances of Harrelson and Snipes but also to Ron Shelton's skillful writing and direction.

"White Men Can't Jump" manages to avoid potential pitfalls and maintains believability throughout its hustle-driven storyline. The characters feel authentic, and their evolution over the course of the film is both entertaining and thought-provoking. In the realm of sports comedies, this film stands out for its clever writing, engaging characters, and the memorable chemistry between its leads.

"Diamonds are Forever," the seventh installment in the James Bond series, marks the triumphant return of Sean Connery as the iconic MI6 agent after a brief hiatus. Connery's comeback injects the film with his trademark charisma and suave demeanor, anchoring the narrative despite its mixed elements.

The film kicks off with an unusual and somewhat bizarre opening sequence, deviating from the typical Bond formula. While it's a departure from the norm, this quirky start sets a unique tone for the story to unfold although it doesn't exactly provide the emotional reward expected from the dramatic finale of "On Her Majesty's Secret Service"..

The primary antagonist, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, portrayed by Charles Gray, lacks the menacing aura seen in previous iterations. His portrayal feels diminished, losing the ominous presence that defined the character in earlier films, affecting the overall sense of threat and tension.

Adding a touch of peculiarity, the duo of killers, Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd (Bruce Glover and Putter Smith), offer a blend of creepiness and dark humor. Their unsettling nature contrasts oddly with their occasional comedic moments, serving as an offbeat addition to the film's dynamics.

However, the climax of "Diamonds are Forever" falls short of expectations, feeling underwhelming and disconnected from the buildup. Despite standout sequences like the thrilling elevator scene, the overall payoff doesn't match the buildup, leaving audiences wanting more from the climax.

Although the franchise is not known for being a feminism booster, one peculiar aspect of the film is the transformation of the James Bond girl, Tiffany Case, played by Jill St. John. Initially portrayed as a capable and intelligent character, her evolution throughout the narrative sees her character devolve into a more stereotypical role, becoming less resourceful and more objectified by the film's conclusion. This shift detracts from her earlier potential and contributes to a somewhat regressive portrayal.

"Diamonds are Forever" carries a certain level of corniness, evident in some of its sequences and (intentionally?) comedic elements although the scene where a girl is thrown from hotel balcony has some of the funniest punch-lines of the franchise (and that didn't come from 007 himself). Despite this, the film manages to deliver standout moments, such as the memorable elevator fight scene and Bond being trapped in a coffin, one of the few moments where the iconic agent lost his cool and looked genuinely terrified.

In conclusion, "Diamonds are Forever" presents a mixed bag of elements. While Connery's return revitalizes the film with his magnetic presence, the lackluster antagonist portrayal, underwhelming climax, and the unfortunate regression of the Bond girl diminish the overall impact. Yet, amidst its flaws, the movie offers memorable sequences and comedic elements that add a touch of entertainment to the franchise's catalogue, not to mention one of the most enduring James Bond's themes, from Shirley Bassey.

"Thunderball," the fourth installment in the James Bond film series, takes audiences on an underwater adventure filled with intrigue, action, and a fair share of aquatic ballet. Released in 1965, the film showcases Sean Connery reprising his role as the iconic MI6 agent, James Bond.

The plot revolves around the theft of two NATO atomic bombs by the nefarious organization SPECTRE. Bond is tasked with recovering the stolen weapons before they are used for destructive purposes. As he delves into the world of international espionage, he encounters the captivating Domino Derval, played by Claudine Auger, and faces off against the sinister Emilio Largo, portrayed by Adolfo Celi.

One of the standout aspects of "Thunderball" is its exotic locations. From the picturesque beaches of the Bahamas to the glamorous casinos of France, the film captures the essence of a globetrotting spy adventure. The production design and cinematography contribute to the film's overall visual appeal, creating a sense of sophistication and luxury that is synonymous with the Bond franchise.

However, the film's Achilles' heel lies in its tendency towards repetition. The underwater sequences, while innovative for their time, become excessive and, at times, monotonous. The extensive underwater ballets, featuring divers engaged in lengthy combat scenes, can test the patience of viewers. While the underwater cinematography is commendable, the repetitive nature of these sequences detracts from the overall pacing of the film.

Despite the aquatic excess, "Thunderball" manages to maintain its charm through Connery's charismatic portrayal of Bond. His suave demeanor, quick wit, and physical prowess continue to define the character. The chemistry between Connery and Auger adds a layer of romantic tension, injecting some depth into the narrative.

The film's soundtrack, composed by John Barry, is another highlight. The iconic theme song, sung by Tom Jones, sets the tone for the movie and remains one of the most memorable Bond tunes. Barry's score complements the on-screen action, enhancing the suspense and drama throughout.

Adolfo Celi's performance as the primary antagonist, Emilio Largo, is noteworthy. His portrayal of the cunning and ruthless SPECTRE operative adds a sense of gravitas to the film. The dynamic between Bond and Largo provides the necessary tension, serving as the driving force behind the central conflict.

"Thunderball" is not without its flaws, and its shortcomings are more evident in hindsight. The film's pacing issues and reliance on underwater sequences may not resonate well with contemporary audiences accustomed to more dynamic action sequences. However, it's essential to appreciate the film in the context of its time, acknowledging the technical achievements and cinematic innovations it brought to the Bond franchise.

In conclusion, "Thunderball" remains an interesting addition to the James Bond saga, offering a mix of glamour, intrigue, and underwater spectacle. While the film may be criticized for its repetitive elements and overreliance on aquatic scenes, it still manages to capture the essence of a classic Bond adventure, thanks in no small part to Sean Connery's enduring portrayal of the legendary spy.

If it is obvious that the film does not require a plethora of concepts to analyze its historical importance, this is no less obvious, indeed, that "The arrival of the train at La Ciotat", in its mundane banality, remains one of those images forever engraved in the universal photographic memory in the same way as this obscure first photograph by Niepce.

Think about it... A train arrives at the platform, passengers get off, others get on... what could be more ordinary and flat for moderne audiences and yet this arriving train has literally shattered visual conventions by offering for the first time the spectacle of reality in motion but not instantaneous, it is this little nuance on the temporal that cinema has established its glory and on the spatial that has rested all its control... so much so that spectators had the reflex to cower (thinking that the train was going to pulverize them).

The genius of the Lumière brothers was in the choice of the train as the mascot of this new artistic toy that we call cinema, a toy taken up again eight years later in a famous Western-style attack which would revolutionize the codes of narration and editing.

What a beginning and what an iconic moment: this train arriving at full steam is a new art in march...

"No Way Out" has the makings of these solid paranoid political conspiracy thrillers of the 70s especially when you look at the triumvirate that leads the plot: a politician, a technocrat and a naval officer, and yet it's a rather sordid story: a fake counter-espionage operation used to cover up a crapulous murder. Defense Secretary David Brice (Gene Hackman) kills in a fit of jealous rage his mistress Susan Atwell (Sean Young) and his faithful aide Scott Pritchard (Bill Patton) decides to pin it on a Mole, a Soviet agent to avoid any interference with the FBI. However, his friend Lt. Comdr. Tom Farrell (Kevin Costner) was just having the greatest idyll of his life with Susan. Behind every powerful men, there's a woman but that one didn't ask to cause all the troubles.

And because Tom loved her, we can feel his shocks when he learns that he's ironically leading the investigation about her murder, and because we knew how Scott loves his boss, he would do anything to cover for him, including a 'wag the dog' story with a phantom agent named Yuri. The plot thickens when they find a damaged polaroid picture that might reveal his identity thanks to one of these pixels enhancing programs that is acceptable as a McGuffin given that the process is revealed to be long and not 100% viable. Meanwhile, other evidence consists of a gift Bruce gave Susan and that might prove his connection to the murder. Tom knows it's his picture on the polaroid so he has no other choice than incriminating Brice before he takes the blame. He asks his friend, a wheelchair-bound computer expert Sam (George Dzundza) to stall the program and so begins a race against the clock inside the most secretive place in America: the Pentagon.

The core-plot involving the three main characters is so riveting that it's almost disappointing when the film indulges to formulaic chases like when Tom tries to save Susan's friend (Iman) from Scott's goons and it's as hard to believe that a man of Scott's intelligence wouldn't already smell something fishy about Tom's selective involvement. It does seem at times, that the film takes a few gambles with credibility and gives Tom too much luck, but then again, what saves the film is the way it allowed us to follow these characters long before the murder occurs (at the forty-minute mark approximately) and so we're truly involved. It also helps that the love story, enhanced by that steamy limousine sex scene, never seems gratuitous and Susan's total abandonment to Tom makes her death even more tragic.

There's also a case being made about Tom being hardly identifiable by his witness since he looks like an average man, and that describes Costner's appeal pretty well: he's handsome in a non-spectacular way, charismatic in a quiet way, and engaging without being too flashy, definitely a low-profile hero making Tom Farrell one of his best performances along with "Dances With Wolves" and "A Perfect World". Costner has often been unfairly described as wooden but so were many actors with an incapability to strike as unlikable, like Gregory Peck, suffering such criticism when all they played were characters trying to keep straight and dignified faces because circumstances asked for it. And that's totally Farrell's situation. This is a serious picture with serious protagonists.

Hackman is also fascinating as a politician who loses control and becomes the pawn of his own subordinate played by Patton who truly delvers as a charming, clean-cut bureaucrat but so devoted to his boss that he'd turn into the devil buying anyone's soul, his evolution from a confident boyish technocrat to a Machiavellian mastermind is almost Hitchcockian but it's all in the dynamics with the corrupt Brice that he forms a sort of two-faced villain "Rope"-style with a Costner playing both the cat and the mouse's role in the thriller. That the whole investigation is embedded in the climate of Red Scare, political sex scandals and other petty rivalries, only adds to the heated claustrophobia that increases as the film moves toward its climax that, tactfully, spares us from an action scene but provides the perfect emotional momentum after such a gripping crescendo.

And yet the story has a few more tricks under its sleeve but at that point I'd rather reminisce about the first time I saw the film with my Dad, it was summer 94, a Sunday, the night of movie thrillers, I had already discovered Hackman in "Mississippi Burning" that very year and Costner in "Field of Dreams" and "The Untouchables" and the film takes me back to a sort of TV Golden Age where the word 'thriller' meant something... I never forgot that film, it has many memorable moments (including a reference to my home country) although one can't say its director Roger Donaldson is a household name. But his "No Way Out" is one of these thrillers so tightly constructed and so effectively tense at the pivotal moments that you're more than assured to forget about its many improbabilities.

Indeed, no matter the unlikeliness of some coincidences or streaks of lucks, the film has a meticulousness of its own, a very patient way to engage us viewers by doing something as simple as making us care for the characters. And because of that we care for what happens to them, so we're much aware of the stakes for each of the three major protagonists and as an extra bonus, at the end, everything makes perfect sense.

Herbert Ross' "The Turning Point" is by no means a bad movie but the frontier between quality and enjoyment is so blurry at times that even a film with good performances, art-direction, music and other high-aiming assets doesn't make for a compelling story... I don't know if I expected a lot to begin with.

For an Oscar buff like me, movies nominated for Best Pictures have always been 'must-watch'. "The Turning Point" wasn't just nominated for that Oscar but for 10 others and that includes four acting nominations (surely an equivalent to "Network" or "Rocky" one would imagine) but even within the chronological company of iconic New Hollywood pictures, this one never ignited a strong desire to watch it... I could call it a personal bias against 'ballet' but no, I was enthralled by movies such as "The Red Shoes", "All That Jazz" and "Black Swan" and I admit that the best part of "The Turning Point" was the ballet sequences.

I didn't expect much because I knew that even in the late 70s, the New Hollywood inspiration was losing its breath and some particularly low-key films for the sake of realism were starting to pinpoint the limits of 'author' cinema. Indeed, what were the other Best Picture nominees of 1977: two other well-intentioned but similarly lackluster films with a made-for-TV feel such as "The Goodbye Girl" and "Julia" and then two classics: "Annie Hall" and a certain space opera signaling the rise of the blockbuster movies (already announced by "Jaws"). It's easy to say why 1977 wasn't a particularly interesting year except for these two icons and perhaps another classic that happens to be about dancing: "Saturday Night Fever".

It wouldn't be fair to compare a tale of two middle-aged women contemplating their career and personal choices with a tale of youth finding areas of expression on the dance floor but let's just be a little primitive for once: if one movie about dancing doesn't inject a strong urge to question your own passions, fears or demons and translate them into an artistic endeavor that defines you, then dancing is only accessory. And that's the problem with "The Turning Point" approach of dancing, it lacks the spark of passion, what remains is just a story of a woman named Deedee (Shirley MacLaine) who reminisces about the time where she could be a star and her friend Emma (Anne Bancroft) who becomes a star and tries to gracefully cope with, as Stallone would say the "inevitable migration toward obsolescence".

You'd think I only gave you a little pitch and the film goes further from that starting point but believe me, it doesn't. Never does Ross try to provide a little more ambivalence to his characters, too reasonable for the film's own good and too busy inflicting us some expositional dialogues during the first twenty minutes. Maybe the reason is that Deedee is still contented with her life, after all, she still has a ballet school in Oklahoma, she married a former dancer (Tom Skerrit) and her children inherited the virus especially her daughter Emilia (Leslie Browne) who got the epiphany after watching Emma and Deedee is simply jealous. The beginning of the daughter's journey triggers the mother's contemplation of her long-ago decision to privilege family. The closest to subtlety added to that personal introspection comes way too late in a riveting conversation between Emma and Deedee where her talent is put into debate and we wonder if she simply didn't make the right choice.

But talk about a long build-up to a predictable outcome. I don't mind 'serious' stories with straightforward approaches, some have the makings of masterpiece, like a certain Best Picture winner about conflictual mother-and-daughter relationship starring Shirley MacLaine. "Terms of Endearments" didn't have a revolutionary storyline, hell, it didn't have dancing but what it had was a character we could seriously relate to: tortured, obnoxious but with a fierce passion and humor. "The Turning Point" has no humor whatsoever which is a waste of MacLaine's potential (only the climactic catfight brings a few chuckles), the daughter is rather bland and only shines in her dancing moments and through some interactions with the more colorful Yuri (interesting Baryshnikov), the closest to a colorful character is the aging Martha Scott as a woman who calls a spade a spade and makes for awkward situations... never fully exploited. Ross isn't just being reasonable, he's just too civilized.

And Ross' mistake is to take his passion for ballet for granted and never try to get out of the soap-opera zone of comfort, something Fosse would truly accomplish with "All That Jazz", to create a parallel between stage and real life. Ross keeps it safe and all we've got is poor Deedee drowning her sorrows, sharing her insecurities and you know it's a bad sign when you've got to insert a lousy affair as a filler. I agree with many reviewers that the subplot was uncalled for and the characters not too involving and that's a shame because the performances deserved more, Bancroft and MacLaine do their best to make their middle-aged fading women relatable and serious but guess who took home the Oscar that year? Diane Keaton as the perky and petulant Annie Hall. Where was the punch? The anger? Even a social commentary about women's existential dilemmas and the eternal equation between career, passion and family?

"The Turning Point" was a personal dream from Ross that took ten years to achieve and alas, it shows, there's something anachronistic about it, some said it was a revival of the old Hollywood pictures of the 40s, I think it's closer to the 60s in spirit with a suburban setting that foreshadows the realistic family dramas of the 70s and 80s. Coincidentally, I just watched yesterday the "Sly" documentary and it said more about lost opportunities, pivotal career choices and fading glory in two or three punch statements from Stallone than these two hours or excruciating pastel drama.

I didn't learn much new about the success story of Sylvester Stallone from his introspective and intimate documentary "Sly" but that doesn't matter: Stallone has the wise eloquence of that cool uncle you'd listen to over and over

We know about Sly's rough debuts: the way he faced constant rejections before committing to writing, how his involvement in "Rocky" was the result of a series of "fortunate chains of mistakes", but there's something about that story that needs be heard, literally punched in the face of every 'wannabe' with the same fierceness than life. We need to know that Stallone's perseverance was guided by an obscure and divine faith on destiny, and that's not accidental, many stars had this presumptuous intuition about themselves, Van Damme thought so (maybe inspired by Sly?) and unless you don't believe in yourself, you have no call asking strangers to believe in you, it's as simple as that to grasp the audacious complexity of ambition. Only in the movies opportunities knock at your door but by Stallone's own admission: his movies were all about what couldn't happen in life, which was ironically contradicted by his own.

His life was almost more fascinating than his fictions, his tough childhood in New York Hell's Kitchen, brought up with his brother Frank in a dysfunctional family with a toxically competitive father who lead his boys with an iron first... Stallone had the childhood to make a child crave for escapism and like many baby boomers who didn't have TV, he found it in the theaters. And so despite his little 'slur' (a handicap inherited from birth) and his average looks, he convinced himself he could be the next "Hercules". And so he takes a shot, some Harvard guy tells him he's got something, he gets a few thug roles, starts in a 70s gem named "Lords of Flatbush" (endorsed by Tarantino) and one thing leading to another, we get to one of my favorite films ever. How a simple boxing story would become an emotional canvas where Stallone would put all his frustrations, regrets, hopes and dreams with the same balance... plus an extra special ingredient: a love story.

What I just love about the 'Rocky' story, one that even Tarantino admired, is the fact that it was a pure instance of destiny rewarding one's efforts: an opportunity Stallone didn't blow, and that should credit him as a writer. This is a man who got so hit by life that he could have grown into a cold-hearted cynical and be aligned with the whole rebellious and turbulent New Hollywood antiheroic mentality (check my review of "Rocky", my second ever review out of 2074) but Stallone understood that he needed to connect with the audience and not participate in that mood of disillusion that contaminated post-Vietnam America (an attitude that would serve him for Rambo). Stallone wanted to make people cheer, only borrowing the grittiness of "Mean Streets" for the texture, his Rocky would be a good guy, such a relatable dude that when he first knocked-out Apollo, everyone in the theater raised and cheered. That's the mark of popular recognition.

And that's how "Rocky", highest-grossing picture of the year, became the last with Stallone as an unknown; in a whim, he'd become a star, the third performer after Orson Welles and Charlie Chaplin to be Oscar-nominated for both Acting and Writing, one year before the very Woody Allen he was assaulting in "Bananas", the thug beat the intellectual and both would take home the Best Picture Oscar. The merit of Stallone is not just to have written a hero in the tradition of those he used to admire with an authentic sincerity, but to have played him too, knowing that he had to embrace his own message and preserve his life from the bitterness of missing an opportunity, Stallone walked his talk... and the rest is history.

The documentary explores then Stallone's ups-and-downs, the deflation of his next-Brando reputation, a few flops and then his choice of writing and directing "Rocky II" with a story that could parallel his personal ordeals during "Rocky"'s aftermath; the sequels wouldn't just be a way to enrich a storyline but a personal catharsis. And then comes "Rambo" where we learn that he actually rewrote the whole story and projected a new image that would set a positive light on Vietnam vets. I should retract myself from my opening statement. That's certainly the greatest thing I've learned from the doc: "First Blood" owes a lot to Stallone's writing and his genuine capability to foresee the kind of image the people needed.

With Rambo and Rocky, Stallone embodied two different mentalities that say something about the American hero and two characters he could get back over and over and be guaranteed a success, not always on the same quality levels... but Stallone himself becomes a subject of idolization with fans scrutinizing his choices, same as his rival Arnold Schwarzenegger. While Arnie seemed to have carried on his 'tough guy' picture pretty well and made a successful transition to comedies, Sly always seemed conflicted between the idea of trying something more challenging and give the audience what it wants but after making successful but mediocre films and critically acclaimed flops, maturity aiding, he learned to move on... and stick to what he does best.

The documentary moves quite fluidly throughout a career that spans fifty years and allows Stallone to share his dreams and his regrets, the deepest one being family... there is sadness in Stallone's heart, echoed in his analogy of the passing train where every second of scenery is an episode of your life passing by... Stallone lived the dream, the disillusion and even the tragedy but through his own story, he could and can still inspire many people to capture once in a while the ephemeral but exhilarating beauty of the scenery.

I had heard about "Sexy Beast" and the electrifying performance of Ben Kingsley as Don Logan but nothing I gathered came close to what the actual experience of the film brought.

Think about it, if someone tells you about a great performance as a gangster or a criminal, you expect ranges of emotions that cover intimidation, charisma, fearlessness or more nuanced traits such as cunning intelligence or faux-affability, the likes of Michael Corleone or Tony Montana with a zest of Joe Pesci but that's only because you haven't tasted enough of British crime pictures. Last time I was mind blown by a gangster performance was either Bob Hoskins in "A Long Good Friday" or young Richard Attenborough in "Brighton Rock" and if Don Logan is closer in temperament to Hoskins' Harold Shand, even Shand was a relatively reasonable man who only became more ruthless as chaos took him out his civilized zone.

Don Logan would be more of a Tommy DeVito with Shand's cockney accent and a little something that would make him feel at home in a Guy Ritchie or Martin McDonagh movie, and to think that it's Ben Kingsley, of all the actors, who was capable to completely reform his image as a venerable fatherly figure by portraying such a despicable character... it's even crazier he looks like his Oscar-winning role delightfully subverting his sociopathic behavior. Anyway, he was rightfully Oscar-nominated for that role as a man sent to intimidate people, to make them offers they couldn't refuse, to be as obnoxiously intrusive as it takes, a man who doesn't retort to guns but whose rapid-fire use of colorful words carries the tempo of a little Rottweiler barking right over your face. As I'm typing this, I still have this "nononono" melody invading my concentration.

Long story short, Logan is what you'll remember the most from "Sexy Beast" but on its own, the film is an extremely well-crafted and directed British gangster in the tradition of "Friday" but also some classics such as "Get Carter", "The Italian Job" etc. It's so directed by Jonathan Glazer that the heist itself could have made one hell of a story and it's hard to believe it only occupies the last third of the film, but what a finale, enhanced by the performance of Ian McShane as Teddy Bass, the ruthless mastermind, networking financial targets through decadent orgies, so intimidating that there were moments he could create as unequally unsettling feelings as Ben Kinglsey's Logan. Indeed, the less one barks, the more he makes you fear the bite.

There's one scene where he confronts Gal (Ray Winstone) whose explanation of a little fact came out as too sketchy to be trusted. Teddy doesn't take "I told you" as an answer, "Tell me again", he politely asks, that moment where we can sense fear discreetly exuding from Gal, and the way calmness can handle a symbolic weapon while violence has a more knife-like quality. At that point, it is obvious Gal is in far more trouble with Teddy than he ever was with Logan who was obviously a thug, and between the thug, the soft or the pragmatic we know who lasts in the business. "Sexy Beast" is basically a psychology of terror as inflicted toward its central character, Gal a former gangster who served in jail and retired to the Costa Del Sol with his loving wife Dee Dee (Amanda Redman), and his two friends Aitch (Cavin Kendall) and his wife Jackie (Julianne White)

While not as flashy and flamboyant, Winstone's performance is integral to the film's believability, it's his own softness that makes us fear Logan or Teddy and consequently fear for Gal. This is a man who enjoys basking in a well-earned idleness and enjoying every second of it, because he knows where he comes from and knows for sure he doesn't want to get back. He found peace, and the opening sequence shows him, fully tanned, a tad overweight, recovering from a hangover and then surviving a boulder that missed him by an inch before plunging into the swimming pool... everything goes fine until that night where Jackie has the face of someone bearing such bad news Ray would wish to have his face bashed by the rock.

Don Logan is coming, and he's likely to offer for a job.

We gather from the reactions something equivalent to the name Keyser Soze and it tells you a lot about how to write well a character, by preceding him by a menacing aura, like rolling the red carper before he comes. And then when Logan makes his arrival , boy wasn't I disappointed. A clear homage to the entrance of Harold Shand in "Friday", the coming of Logan shows him already on the verge of shutting down anybody who distracts him from his mission, this is clearly a man who lacks something called fear standing so tall, he makes Kingsley feel as tall as Ralph Fiennes, in fact, in some scenes I could even see a resemblance with "In Bruges" Harry.

The dialogues offer so much for Kingsley "why are you swearing, I'm not" "preparation, preparation" this is a man who's calling the shots, asking the questions, when he gives you money, you better accept it... he doesn't accept "no" an answer Don Logan, and no umbrella of self-control will be strong enough to protect you from the profanity missiles erupting from his mouth, he is clearly one of these psychos you better have on your side or find a way to remove from the picture. Easier said than done.

"Sexy Beast" delivers a multilayered portrayal of criminals as men entrapped in respective roles, you've got the thug, the soft and the pragmatic, and in the middle of that a lifestyle to preserve, a loving wife, and a spectacular heist that must be done, all that compacted in less than ninety minutes... simply said, a bloody good film, mate!

"Cousin, Cousine" is certainly the most cheerful film where two marriages are being broken, maybe because it chose to deal with the exception rather than the norm, when the right romance comes after wedding vows, or maybe because writer Daniele Thompson foresaw that we would secretly cheer for those who refused to commit to dead-end relationships for commitment's sake or because they fear the avenging public eye. It's not the secrecy of the affair that provides the film's unique zest but its lack thereof.

And so Marthe (Marie-Christine Barrault) and Ludovic (Victor Lanoux) are both in their thirties (Ludovic closer to the forty mark) and meet at the point of their lives where a meaning is sought and heart commands to be filled with something that transcends family diktats, how ironic that it all starts in a family banquet. And never has infidelity been portrayed in such a light way, light as a something truly relieved from the burden of guilt and the necessity of concealing, although it is prevalent in the first weeks of the relationship, it is less as a hindrance than a way to preserve something occasional sunshine in rather cloudy lives.

And it's the tour de force of director Jean-Charles Tacchela to tackle the relationship in such a way that we never feel inclined to condemn the sight of a man having an affair, indulging in a pastry binge-eating, humming a classical piece of music or going swimming, not skin-dipping like in usual romances, but in the local swimming pool as to already taint their relationship with social visibility. Even their children don't disapprove their relationships, the opening wedding sequence having already established them as fully aware of the adults' little misbehaviors (after all, everyone's part of the same hypocrisy).

And while the leading couple floats on a cloud of tenderness, most of the laughs are provided by Marthe's cheating husband Pascal (Guy Marchand) and Ludovic's neurotic sleep-cure addict girlfriend Karine (Marie-France Pisier). Pascal is a delusional macho lover who, after a long sequence where he dumped his mistresses one by one, he comes home triumphantly waiting for Marthe to applaud his redemption, she doesn't even dignify it with a smile. As a more complex character, it's the pert, hippie-like and neurotic Karine who steals the show with such gusto that she could have been a full Woody Allen character, Pisier is so hilarious she'd make you forget how beautiful she is in a young Adjani way. Now, there are moments where subtlety deserts the story but not so long that it is distracting... and just when you think the film borders into darker territories, you realize it's only setting you up for a big laugh. "Cousin, Cousine" tactfully spares us the whole drama and one scene involving a suicide attempt had the kind of predictable outcomes that can only be considered comical genius.

Now, would the liaison have been more acceptable had the two been happy or their partners not be unfaithful in the first place? In the first case, it wouldn't have made much sense, in the second the director finds a little pirouette by making them meet before they understand what Pascal and Karine were up too. The romance wasn't premeditated and we believe it because their lines of dialogues flow so naturally with the casual frivolity we carefully insert in our many flirtations with strangers, for the kicks, especially in these screen-less times where nothing could be recorded (some kids were still sneaky enough to take play paparazzi on you). Lanoux plays Ludovic with the quiet charisma of the man who doesn't weigh everything he says and embraces his contradiction, he criticizes family reunions but admits he enjoys them, he doesn't value his job and says he needs to change one every three years, his volatile life speaks less about himself than his total honesty about it.

And there's something so graceful in Barrault's performance, in the way she literally gives herself to Ludovic, that makes for a compelling performance full of little touches such as a smile or a maternal desire to clip his toenails, Barrault would be nominated for Best Actress the same year than "Rocky". And in a way, the couple reminded me of that quote from about Rocky and Adrian: "she's got gaps, I've got gaps, together, we fill gaps". What gaps could they possibly have? Well, the film is not interested in delving into them, what it does however is present them as two members of an ordinary family gathering for the usual occasions: wedding banquets, funerals, Christmas parties, where as usual in France, it's all about drinking, having fun and partying, things so common that one can only welcome whatever will break that routine. And "Cousin, Cousine" provides a very sociological slice of French bourgeois life in the 70s in a time where divorces and mixed families were uncommon but not rarities.

Long story short, what "Cousin Cousin" accomplishes is to make you believe in a love story where it's not about sex or lust, it's not about petty vengeance, just about mutual attraction and two people sharing common pleasure in togetherness... the whole thing enrobed with a gallery of sympathetic characters who have all in common that they will all remind us of someone we know. And watching Marthe and Ludovic together, no matter how disapproving we are, we can't blame them from living their romance to the fullest and when they take a hotel room for an afternoon and then it turns into a night, it doesn't just feel real, it feels exhilarating. The greatest delights come from their shamelessness and how disconcerting it is for their entourage.

And the final shot is just like "The Graduate" except this time with grown-ups who know (and we know) they've made the right choice, the puzzlement of the family behind the doors might show disbelief but maybe a secret envy...