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Although it is not a Netflix production, Veronica is one of the newest films added to the streaming platform and it has everyone talking about it. Some are labelling the film as “the scariest film ever” – personally, I wouldn’t go as far but I will say one thing: it is a very good horror film! First of all, it is good to see a fresh horror film that isn’t just one jump scare after another, and it is good to watch a film that isn’t from the Hollywood circle – nothing wrong with Insidious, The Nun, The Conjuring, Annabelle, but Veronica proves that the characters don’t need to speak English to make a good film. Also, the mind behind this film is not new to the genre – Paco Plazza has directed REC in 2007 (before it became a Hollywood remake) and the film does not fail to deliver us suspense and fear. Veronica is set in 1991, which is pleasantly portrayed by the use of Walkman’s and lack of internet, and it tells the story of – you guessed it – Veronica, a 15-year-old girl who uses an Ouija board with her friends to communicate with her dead father. Needless to say, things don’t go well for her and she manages to get through to an evil entity that is not her father. The film packs the most common tropes of ghost-films: objects moving on their own? Check. Dream sequence that is not a dream sequence? Check. Weird elderly people? Check. So why is this film gaining such recognition? Well, I would say that not only Veronica is a possession/ghosts/horror film, but also it is a coming-of-age gone wrong. When Veronica goes back to the poorly lit basement where she and her friends played with the Ouija board, she is surprised by “Sister Death”, a blind nun of her school, that tells the protagonist that someone has answered her call and that now walks with her. The dialogue plays with the film and with our expectations as she uses a metaphor in her conversation and says that Veronica is old enough to understand what that means - thus, not only reminding Veronica that she is not a child, but remind us that the film is not straightforward, and in order to understand it, one must decipher the metaphor the film presents. In the same light, to mark the end of their conversation the school bell rings and the nun points out to Veronica that recess is over – meaning that play time is over and it is, indeed, time to grow up. The main character is a child – she may look old, act old, but for all biological purposes, she hasn’t crossed the barrier which makes her a woman, a.k.a she hasn’t had her period yet. However, she is forced to grow up after the death of her dad – she needs to help her mum with her three small siblings and, alongside school, it becomes a full-time commitment. Veronica doesn’t have time to go out with her friends and doesn’t have time to do things she enjoy, apart from listening to music before bed. Her friends start to ditch her and do “teenager stuff” without her, such as throwing parties, wearing too much mascara, smoking, dating, and because Veronica is unable to enjoy all of that, she starts resenting her siblings. It becomes more and more obvious that Veronica is blaming her siblings when she starts loosing her temper around them, and when she dreams that her siblings are biting her and slowly taking over and killing her. In addition to the extreme amount of times her mum tells her she needs to grow up, in another dream sequences a unknown voice tells her to grow up whilst putting their hand/claw upon her vagina and making her bleed, thus turning her into a proper adult. After playing with the Ouija board, Veronica now has to protect her siblings from the evil entity that is after them – as if she didn’t have enough on her plate already. However, the film starts to twist our beliefs when Veronica pleads to her mum to stay overnight, saying that whenever she is around “he doesn’t come”, hence when there is the presence of an adult figure and Veronica is freed from her duties as a “parent”, the evil stays away. That is when the film starts to tell us that maybe she is the danger. Veronica is constantly looking through windows – watching her teenage neighbours and their parents, and watching her friends start to date - envisioning a world she wants to be a part of but cannot enter. Moreover, she is constantly stopped and framed in between closed doors, reminding her one more time that she does not belong in that world and must stay inside her house taking care of her siblings. That is most obvious when Veronica arrives at her friend, Rosa’s, house to talk to her whilst she is having a party. The party guests try to block her way into the house, but she manages to enter it. She clearly does not fit in the scenario and is thrown out by two men, hence confirming once again her inadequacy. Plazza’s is a good film – it has a strong and determined protagonist, and, unlike possession films, the haunted are not asking for help, instead they are helping themselves. Veronica owns up to her guilt and does the only logical thing to do – no matter the cost. Partly the cause of the success of the film is that it fed well into the “based on a real life story” marketing behind it, but the film is as real as Texas Chain Saw Massacre – and Plazza himself admitted: the film is loosely based on a case that happened in Madrid in 1991, that became known for being the only police case to involve a paranormal occurrence. Nevertheless, real or not, it is worth the viewing!

(Di., 17. Jan. • Leicester Square • 19:30 Cineworld Cinema London Wandsworth • 19:30) "Plane" In the white-knuckle action movie "Plane", pilot Brodie Torrance (Gerard Butler) saves his passengers from a lightning strike by making a risky landing on a war-torn island, only to find that surviving the landing was just the beginning. When most of the passengers are taken hostage by dangerous rebels, the only person Torrance can count on for help is Louis Gaspare (Mike Colter), an accused murderer who was being transported by the FBI. In order to rescue the passengers, Torrance will need Gaspare’s help, and will learn there’s more to him than meets the eye. "Plane" puts a spin on that; Torrance is an ordinary guy, who's, in a sense, outmatched and in over his head. He could never have anticipated the forces he’s going up against after his plane crashes, or the partner Torrance takes on at a critical moment. He must make an emergency landing in one of the most dangerous places on Earth, and is hurtled into a situation where every minute matters, and those minutes can be counted in every life lost or saved. But "Plane" and Torrance, offer additional and intriguing dimensions, imbuing the character with a fierce sense of responsibility. He knows what he must do, and will somehow find the strength to do it. Though he has no tactical experience in combating dangerous rebels, he feels a deep responsibility to his passengers. After the emergency landing, he’ll go above and beyond to protect his passengers and get them home. He’s a man on a mission. The arrival of the prisoner on the flight is unforeseen, but Torrance is determined that the quietly powerful presence of a dangerous felon on his plane will have minimal impact on the passengers’ journey. Gaspare, though a bigger than life figure, seems equally determined to just get through the flight. He’s brought aboard in handcuffs, but they’re very discreet, Gapare is an observer. He’ll get involved in a situation only if it’s necessary. Gaspare doesn’t lead the charge but he’s available, if needed.. Gaspare is not in prison garb, and there’s an FBI agent with him always to make sure he stays quiet. While Torrance begins his herculean efforts to keep his passengers safe, he's joined by a surprising ally, convict Louis Gaspare, who had been brought aboard the flight at the last minute for extradition. When Torrance makes his heroic landing and the passengers are taken hostage, he must rely on Gaspare, who's the last person he’d expect to help, battle a ruthless band of pirates. Torrance discovers there’s more to him than meets the eye, and that redemption can be found in the most unusual of places. Gaspare will keep you guessing because you’re never sure about his motivations. Will he help Torrance, and if so, why? What's his ultimate plan? Gaspare is brilliant and believable as the complex, stoic and capable passenger/prisoner. In the end, he’s the one guy nobody really wants, but becomes the guy everybody needs. After Torrance’s reluctant request for help, Gaspare springs into action, proving to be a more than capable partner for the embattled pilot. It isn’t long before Torrance sizes him up, and surmises that his new ally has faced similar situations before, with Gaspare revealing he had been a member of the French Foreign Legion. Gaspare joined that legendary corps to avoid, as he puts it, rotting in prison. He has been through war time, dealing with insurgents. This is the perfect opportunity to make amends for his past. The plane’s crew includes co-pilot Samuel Dele (Yoson An Mulan, and head flight attendant Bonnie (Daniella Pineda). Dele proves more than capable as he works with Torrance to somehow land a plane that’s lost all power, and then takes charge of the surviving passengers after Torrance and Gaspare head off to seek help. Bonnie, like Dele, also steps up to help attend to the survivors, and shows what she’s truly made of when captured by the pirates. Bonnie is a kind of mother hen to all the characters, because as head flight attendant she’s charged with the safety of everyone on board. But due to the dire circumstances in which they find themselves, she and fellow flight attendant Maria (Amber Rivera) becomes a working machine that must figure out how to keep everyone alive. They’re the ones that the passengers are looking to for help. They’re not allowed to be terrified or show any emotion. Some of the passengers make an impossible situation even more so, including Sinclair (Joey Slotnick), a businessman/jerk who offers only complaints and young social media stars Katie (Kelly Gale) and Brie (Lilly Krug). Jim Lake (Pete Scobell) is a member of the elite team, who recalls the circumstances that led him and Adeleke to join the "Plane" unit. Lake and the other mercenaries are a part of the world of military contracting, who step in when the government can’t. "Plane" originated with an idea from Scottish novelist Charles Cumming, the esteemed author of the spy thrillers 'Box 88' and 'The Man Between'. "Plane" is a classical action story. And it’s not just action; there’s a lot of tension, which can be equally compelling. We really care about those people on the plane, who find themselves in an almost impossible situation. We understand what they’re facing, and we're right there on the plane, and then in the jungle with them. Even the pirates are based on a real militia group; they're terrifying. Part of the experience of "Plane" is getting to know these very different characters and how they’ll react to the incredibly dangerous situation they’ve been hurled into. That attention to detail and realism marks a visceral one-on-one fight scene that has Torrance battling a pirate that finds the pilot trying to contact the outside world. It’s two minutes of intense, no-holds-barred, and brutal hand-to-hand combat, all of which is captured in one take. Will they band together, or will their fears tear them apart? It’s all about pure grit, desperation, and tenacity. How do you kill people in a plane? It's disruptive and visceral. The jungle creates a sense of depth. The airline situation room, with it's wood paneling and high-tech comms, provides a stark contrast to the jungle. Of course, it’s a much cleaner and sophisticated environment. The film wants to bring a combination of tech, class, and stylization, but it feels not always corporate and upscale. This movie begs to be seen on a very large screen with a glorious sound system, and for audiences to be immersed with it. "Plane" is one of those big commercial movies that satisfies our love of action movies. Written by Gregory Mann    

(Release Info London schedule; March 1st, 2018, Empire-Haymarket, 11:45) "Red Sparrow" When 'Red Sparrow' author Jason Matthews completed his thirty-three year tenure with the CIA, he found that he was not content to remain idle in his retirement. Flush with time, Matthews took up writing for his second act. The longtime fan of John le Carré and Ian Fleming began work on 'Red Sparrow', which was published in 2013 and became a best-seller and the foundation for a trilogy; 'Palace Of Treason' was the second in the series and upcoming is 'The Kremlin’s Candidate'. While the world of "Red Sparrow" is familiar to Matthews, the novel’s central character is a product of invention. Following a terrible accident, Dominika Egorova (Jennifer Lawrence), leaves her career with the Bolshoi and is forced into a state-run school that trains her in sexual manipulation. Unlike the other characters in the book, Dominika is primarily imaginary. She had a career in the ballet, until it was taken away from her. And then she was forced to go to 'Sparrow School'. 'Honeypot' school was indeed part of Soviet intelligence training. In 'The Soviet Union', they had a school that taught young women the art of entrapment, the art of seduction, for blackmailing intelligence targets. They had a 'Sparrow School' in the city of Kazan, on the banks of 'The Volga River', where young women were taught how to be courtesans. They're called ‘Sparrows'. Dominka’s training ultimately leads her to CIA operative Nate Nash (Joel Edgerton). Inevitably, they fall in love, which is dangerous and forbidden for him. Like Romeo and Juliet, it’s a love affair that can’t end well. "Red Sparrow" is a spy story about a character who's not a Bourne, not a Bond, not a le Carré character. Dominika is actually a civilian who's forced into a spy plot, and whose training in spy craft is a means to survive, and to protect her mother. Her body has been used by 'The Government' from the time that she was young. What with Ballet, being an athlete, being paid by 'The Government' and then ultimately forced into 'The Sparrow' program. As with Dominika, we meet Nate at a crossroads, when a botched hand-off gets him removed from his assignment. He’s fallen from grace early in his career, and he gets a second chance to come back. He's the only person that an operative, Marble, will speak to. He’s valuable in that regard, and so he makes contact with her. In turn, Nate engages Dominika as a potential informant. Dominika and Nate have a really interesting relationship. Because they both been assigned to one another to get information and in this process of manipulating each other they fall for each other. Their relationship is constantly changing because how can you trust somebody not to be tricking you when you're trying to trick them? So they’re constantly balancing this inherent trust that they both have in each other with the basic paranoia that goes with living in a life of international espionage. The character of Uncle Vanya (Matthias Schoenaerts) changes from book to film. In the book he's quite a bit older and the film skews Vanya's age down a little bit and have him be a much younger brother to Dominika's deceased father. And part of the reason for that's that there's a bit of a perverse dynamic between Dominika and Uncle Vanya, that they're both relatively similar in age, sort of close enough in age that, if they weren't related there actually could be kind of a relationship. That's a bit twisted, of the kind of handsome young uncle that Dominika may have actually even been attracted to and that he has been attracted to her. Uncle Vanya always thought of Dominika as a bit of a comrade, that they've some sort of similarities and some of the similarities that ma9 her so disciplined and successful in ballet, which is a very tough world, are sort of facets of his personality that he sees in himself and he sees in her and he thinks they share. He has some protective feelings towards Dominika. But his also not blind to her femininity. At the same time, he needs her but he knows that she needs him as well. So there's a power component in the relationship between them that opens the door to certain level of abuse. There’s a very thin line between sincerity and manipulation with them and it bounces back and forth all the time, and it's fun to play with. Matron (Charlotte Rampling) is someone very committed to the state, committed to what Communism means. She's very much about discipline, about order, and about having faith in a higher purpose rather than just oneself and one’s little life, but to actually give over your life to a higher purpose. She began very early on in the spy school, and so in a sense when she meets Dominika, she’s seeing her younger self. She began early in the school, worked up through the school, and became a teacher. Then she was recruited by Korchnoi (Jeremy Irons), a decorated general of 'The SVR'. Bill Camp plays Marty Gable (Bill Camp), Nate’s colleague at the CIA, is sort of a grumpy guy, who's a little bit resentful. He’s two exits down the highway past where he wishes he were. And there aren’t many exits left.   The idea is never to make an erotic thriller, never to titillate in any kind of way, but to ensure that the content feels really organic to the story and to the dilemma of the character and so the film really carefully modulates anything that's sexual or involved nudity or involved violence, to find that right tone. There's definitely sexuality in the book. There's definitely violence in the book. There's kind of an audacity to it and the film captures that. It’s really about a single character’s journey, someone who finds herself manipulated by powers much larger than herself. Dominika suffers an injury and is pulled into this world of espionage. And it’s a world where her sexuality is weaponized, as it were, in the sense that she's trained as a seductress. But she's too big and too complicated a person to be a seductress, and she changes the rules on the people that forced her into this world. 'The Sparrow School' scenes are terrifying. But as you can see in the movie it’s this moment where she gains power, where she turns the tables on the people that are trying to control her and you fee that power. Because the truth is Dominika’s trained to use her body but, ultimately, prevails by using her mind. She seems like a complex modern heroine, she uses her own rules, and has a tenacity to succeed. The film is about survival and seduction. And the balance between the two is crucial. It’s survival that drives Dominika into 'The Sparrow World', and once she’s there, she needs to master seduction and intelligence skills in order to survive. The film explores seduction in a psychological, scientific way. We see a character figure out how much of herself she can give in order to survive, and if she's able to hold something back and come out of this journey intact. We never quite know what Dominika feels. What she’s thinking, or how close shed to crumbling, or lashing out. There's a certain resilience and stoicism to her as a character, that keeps us guessing. We always suspect that there's a strength in her that the men in her life have underestimated. There has never been a spy movie like this! It's a gripping and emotional ride, full of twists and turns, you will be immersed in it and leave talking about it.

(Showtimes London Wed 4 May Thu 5 May Fri 6 May Sat 7 May Sun 8 May Mon 9 May Tue 10 May, Leicester Square, 400 m·Leicester Square, LONDON WC2H 7NA, United Kingdom, IMAX 19:00) "Everything Everywhere All At Once" It's not exactly wrong, it's, after all, where "Everything" begins. When the film opens, we meet Evelyn Wang (Michelle Yeoh) as a harried laundromat owner, living above her business in a cramped apartment and facing a mountain of paperwork amid an audit from the IRS. She's stressed about her aging father (James Hong) coming to stay and struggles to listen to both her grown daughter Joy (Stephanie Hsu) and her tender-hearted husband Waymond (Ke Huy Quan). The character of Waymond is a distinct part that ping-pongs between a soft-hearted husband and, in his multiverse persona, heroic action star. Evelyn is really strong, determined, and the sort of mother who's keeping the ship afloat. For Evelyn, she has to confront a multiverse on the brink of collapse, an extreme manifestation of the sensory overload that the modern world is increasingly defined by, to see the family that has always been there. You've to go to the end of the world to find out what really matters to you, your daughter, your husband, would you make another choice? But while meeting with an IRS agent Deirdre Bezaubeirdra (Jamie Lee Curtis), a strange occurrence involving her own husband pulls her into a multidimensional adventure that puts the fate of every universe in her hands, and also forces her to confront who she's to herself and her family. The film rushes headlong into unruly anarchy; Evelyn is plunged into the meta-physical world of 'verse-jumping', veering from the mundane dreariness of an IRS building to the palatial lair of a nihilistic villain named Jobu Tupaki, from the flashing lights of Hong Kong red carpets to a deserted canyon where sentient rocks manage to have a heart-to-heart. But this sense of an unhinged imagination, of endless mayhem, ultimately serves to transform the universal, or the multi-universal, into something intimate, an earnest meditation on truly seeing those near us in a time when it feels as if the center will not hold. The high-wire achievement of "Everything" is precisely in embodying this unwieldy tone. The almost schizophrenic imagination that Evelyn falls into causes the film to builds towards a conclusion that's surprisingly cathartic; Evelyn's journey through all of her possible lives helps her understand what matters most in her own. The pair initially conceptualized Evelyn as a woman with undiagnosed ADHD, a condition that in a way makes her uniquely equipped to tap into other universes. In the film, Evelyn becomes a Neo-like chosen one specifically because she's the single-most failed version of all her potential selves. It's also possible to see Evelyn's many lives as an allegory for the immigrant mother, appealing paths suddenly walled off, like alternate selves, when you leave your home, the new roads you’ve been promised in a land ostensibly rife with op- portunity reveal themselves to be largely inaccessible. For her, the journey has not been easy. She made a choice to leave her own family in China and set up a new life with a man that she loves, and wants to have a fresh start, but things do not always go according to plan. That experience makes the feelings of the next generation, who grow up and live a life of relative stability in a country they feel is innately their home, practically illegible to a mother like her. In this sense, it's perfectly apt that Evelyn's daughter, Joy, is also the multiverse's villain, Jobu Tupaki, an agent of chaos that's both the thing to defeat and perhaps to save. Jobu is a manifestation of that kind of weird generation gap, and the multiverse can play as a really funny metaphor for just the Internet. "Everything" is most obviously attempt at trying to encapsulate the first part, but you can sense the latter lurking in background as well. Of course, if climate dread is an inspiration, it takes on a decidedly different look, in Jobu's evil plan, an everything bagel-void threatens to swallow the multiverse and destroy us all. The film is inspired by 'History of Rise and Fall' by the artist Ikeda Manab, an elaborate pen-and-ink drawing featuring a maelstrom of pagodas, gnarled cherry branches, and railroad tracks, a fittingly abundant example of Manabu's glorious, almost painfully maximalist style. He does these things that hurt your brain when you look at them because they're so intricate, so detailed, so dense. But when you pull back, you're like, oh, that's a tree. It's a headache-inducing diagram on a wall-sized chalkboard contains over a dozen color-coded storylines, scribbles of per-colating ideas, and what may or may not be a phallic doodle. It's an entirely predictable issue, one written into the title of the movie, as it's cacophony of elements clarifies into something startlingly simple, rather transcendent. Watching the film, it retains that sense of maximalist, gonzo energy. The biggest seed that drove us through, that feels like a metaphor for what we're going through right now in society, is just this information overload, this stretching. People keep saying ‘empathy fatigue' set in with covid, but we feel like even before covid we're already there, there's too much to care about and everyone's lost the thread. That's the last key, turning this into a movie about empathy in the chaos. The film slyly tweaks the hero's journey'story beats that audiences have come to expect, squishing and stretching a three-act structure as if the movie itself are jumping through a fracturing multiverse. That sense of infinity, all of the possible worlds, the depthless rabbit holes, all of the tiny moving pieces underneath it stayed front of mind for us as we get a grasp on the nuts-and-bolts of the film's story. There's the family drama answer and the sci-fi answer and the philosophy answer. Or you could say it's a kung-fu flick that hops around multidimensional universes. In 2022, in an era of information overload, extreme polarization, and mass existential dread, the struggle to connect between parents and children might feel less like a banal, everyday experience, and more of an increasingly confounding battle between a loved companion and a mortal enemy. For this type of movie, with it's wackiness, the realism of modern-day action doesn't fit well. Everything less of the bruising grit of most Hollywood action, more of the loose, playful ethos of Hong Kong-style fighting. As CGI has gotten cheaper and more accessible over the last two decades, and superhero movies have proliferated, it has become something of a cliché to destroy a major American city in the course of a fight scene. Which makes fights in "Everything" all the more distinctive, the environment and props feel as fists and feet, with a fanny pack and a perverse range of office supplies recruited as weapons. One of our favorite things to do is make people feel emotional while looking at something that's absurd. We feel this kind of mischievous joke has been pulled. While "Everything" offers a hunt of cinematic references, from "2001: A Space Odyssey" to "In the Mood For Love", there's something visceral about it. We're like, oh, we guess we should be more insane. That feedback, though, threatened at one point to pull them down a rabbit hole of making films that are starting to feel emptily unhinged. That self-consciousness that we feel, this feeling of wasting our lives, Watching this film definitely makes us reflect on the idea that, slipping into a Bill and Ted voice, 'like, ‘Oh yeah, kindness, sick! Written by Gregory Mann

(Release Info London schedule; January 17th, 2020, BFI Southbank, Belvedere Rd, Lambeth, London SE1 8XT, United Kingdom, 2:30 pm) https://whatson.bfi.org.uk/Online/default.asp "Waves" Set against the vibrant landscape of 'South Florida', "Waves" traces the epic emotional journey of a suburban 'African-American' family; led by a well-intentioned but domineering father, as they navigate love, forgiveness, and coming together in the aftermath of a loss. "Waves" is a heartrending story about the universal capacity for compassion and growth even in the darkest of times. "Waves" places the family dynamic front and center. At the heart of the movie is the Williams family, determined, upper-middle class 'South Florida' achievers, who've to struggle ten times as hard as everyone else to get ahead. 'The Williams' have worked hard to attain an upper-middle class life; they've a great house, great careers, and they’ve raised their kids right. Their kids, like them, have a great work ethic. But like most American families, there are secrets and struggles behind the façade. Ronald Williams (Sterling K. Brown) is the stern and uncompromising patriarch. That’s Ronald’s initial approach with his son Tyler (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), thinking he can’t have him going out in the world looking like a fool. Ronald has the best of intentions for his son, but comes to discover, that it’s better to parent out of love than fear. He discovers that better parenting comes from vulnerability and communication, not tough love. It's about how behaviors and traits can be passed down from father to son. In the first section of the movie, Ronald pushes Tyler excessively, going overboard without realizing it; in the second section, he finds peace and connection with Emily, locating a vulnerability he couldn’t share with his son. Losing Tyler, deserted by Catherine (Renée Elise Goldberry), and saved only by Emily, Ronald is forced to rethink his entire way of being. He abandons the severity of his parenting, which he thought was in Tyler’s best interest, and instead follows Emily’s example by choosing love, transparency, and honesty. You get a chance over the course of this movie to see a parent evolve, and recognize it’s a game of give and take, you've to be able to trust your children to a certain extent, because if you suffocate them, they will rebel or escape. Only after Ronald sees the results of this is he able to find a new way to be with his daughter. If he's able to share that level of honesty and vulnerability with Tyler, he might have shown to him that true strength lies not in perfection, or having it all together, but in being able to lean on the people who care about you when times get tough; to be able to communicate and ask for help. Tyler Williams is a 17-year-old teenager who experiences an unfathomable tragedy. Then it became the story of his younger sister Emily (Taylor Russell), who's navigating her first true love. Tonally shifting from Tyler’s downward spiral into Emily’s romantic blossoming and renewal, the two mirrored sections are deepened by the presence of the sibling's hard-working, exacting parents. Tyler is in love with his girlfriend Alexis (Alexa Demie), but grapples with tension at home with his father, who pushes him to work hard in all areas, school, sports, and part-time job, at the crucial moment he's trying to forge his own nascent identity. And, like so many teenage boys, Tyler doesn’t know where to turn to express his fears, weaknesses, and vulnerability. Tyler looks up to his dad so much, he’s probably the most hardworking man he’s ever known. When you idolize someone so much, it’s hard to feel, when you look at yourself, that you’ll ever measure up to that image. It’s a major part of Tyler’s struggle. Ronald pushes Tyler to excel in wrestling, pressing him to lift weights for long hours in the family’s sprawling suburban home. It's a paradox in a complicated relationship, at times a beautiful showcase of father and son bonding, at others a brutal battle of wills, as Ronald becomes blinded by his own demons intermingling with parental love. Ronald loves Tyler too hard, he cares about him too much. He loves him so intensely that Tyler, injured and suffering internally, eventually goes overboard, which amplifies the tragedy that ends the first section of the movie. Adding to the pressure is Tyler’s disintegrating relationship with Alexis after they come to a disagreement about their own future. This, combined with his father’s rigorous demands, pushes him towards self-destruction, foregrounding one of the film’s most moving and indelible themes, how the simmering chaos inside families and relationships both shapes and destroys each of the members involved. What happens with Tyler unravels all of that hope and hard work. Yet Emily’s segment of the story serves as a contrast to what comes before, offering hope for the Williams when it seems there's none. "Waves" is a movie about family and forgiveness. It’s about moving forward. Through Tyler and Emily’s different trajectories, the film crafts a fresh, highly relatable and emotionally accessible cinematic experience, showing how one teenager succumbs to the near-impossible pressures and demands placed on him, while another finds a way to navigate her hardships and break out in a new direction, filled with joy, affection and positivity. It’s so much about this void Tyler is trying to heal, since his mother abandoned him and his sister as young children, leaving them with a stepmother who also couldn’t fill that void. When Tyler’s injury happens, he, like many other teenagers, doesn’t feel comfortable admitting it, including even to those closest to him. He can’t face showing that kind of vulnerability or weakness, which ties directly back to how his father has raised him. Tyler has been molded in his father’s image. His identity relies on being a step above everyone else and being in control. That’s why he can’t tell his dad, mom, or girlfriend about his shoulder and why he responds to things the way he does. If any one of the events in the story didn’t happen in such short time period, Tyler would’ve been fine and worked through everything. Instead, the world fires back against him and he doesn’t know how to ask for help because he raised to be stronger than everyone else. The character encapsulates teenage frustrations in this precise moment, and the film infuses the young man with empathy and soul even in his darkest hour, shaping the conflicted and confused teen into a sympathetic, often relatable human being. Tyler becomes an emblem for the pressures of the modern age, showing how young people in this era try and sometimes fail to navigate a fraught and perilous world. He's not a monster. People can make mistakes and people should still be seen as human beings. We've to learn to be empathetic and not judge people so quickly. "Waves" examines the pressures of modern American teenage life in the current moment, focusing on Tyler as he grapples with ambition, drive, parental pressure, and finding his own path. In one memorable scene he dyes his hair white in the style of Frank Ocean, his own unique way of distancing himself from his father’s rigidity; in another he shares a flurry of angry text messages with his girlfriend about the direction of their future together. As the Williamses endure an almost impossible devastation at the film’s midpoint, "Waves" shifts tone in the evocative and touching second portion, sending the movie in another direction as it focuses on Emily, Tyler’s quiet younger sister who appears only fleetingly in the story’s earlier part. Emily is in a huge transitional period in her life, trying to find out who she's and where she fits within her family, feeling invisible in her brother’s shadow. A lot of the focus in "Waves" is on Tyler under immense pressure, but over the course of the movie Emily has the opportunity to discover herself, and make her own decisions in life, and that’s a liberating place to be as a teenager. Emerging from a tunnel of upheaval and grief, Emily finds her way into the light. After an unexpected run-in with classmate Luke (Lucas Hedges), one of Tyler’s wrestling teammates, Emily falls fast and hard for the amiable senior, mirroring the intoxicating highs of Tyler and Alexis feverish romance in Waves’ opening scenes, but with an innocence and grace that separates the tone of the two relationships. It’s very powerful to watch Emily blossom, she’s open to love, and mending relationships. Working through a tragedy like that, within her family but also inside her community, could easily tear her apart. But she chooses to not let what happened to Tyler destroy her. As the second portion of the movie begins, Emily is isolated, still unable to emerge from Tyler’s shadow and the reverberations of his actions; her family is branded in a way, causing fear to set in. And that fear comes to influence how she approaches her life. She’s on the precipice of becoming a bunch of different people. It’s a crucial time period for her, and she chooses love. From it's inception, "Waves" is a music-driven movie in the vein of "Boogie Nights" or "Goodfellas", with songs and score serving as a kind of fluctuating tide for the sprawling narrative. Indeed, "Waves" is largely synchronized to music mixing contemporary songs from the likes of "Animal Collective". The music and corresponding images feel like the music in Tyler’s and Emily’s worlds, and show how the world is functioning around them. Like the songs in the film, the score expresses the subconscious of Tyler and Emily Williams as they grapple with their disparate paths and choices in life. The first time the score surfaces in Tyler’s section of the movie comes after he receives the news from his doctor that his torn labrum ends his athletic career, marking the beginning of his downward spiral. From the outset of Waves you get the feeling Tyler can go anywhere in life, he’s in the 1:85 aspect ratio, on top of the world, open and free and in love. “But as things start closing down, the aspect ratio narrows. Keeping with the ebb and flow motif, as Tyler’s state of mind changes, so does the camera and aspect ratio. Emily’s story, by contrast, begins in the 1:33 ratio, engulfed in grief following the heartbreaking events of the film’s midsection. But it opens up again as she comes back to life and her romance with Luke takes hold. Luke (Lukas Hedges) is Emily’s love interest. Near the end of the film Luke and Emily share one of the film’s most emotionally wrenching scenes, and over the course of their road trip, Emily’s character emerges to help Luke find his own peace and acceptance, while she's able to reconcile and recalibrate her relationship with her parents as she discovers her own power through love. Adding nuance and complexity to the mix is the fact that Catherine is the sibling's stepparent, their birth mother having left when they're young children. Catherine doesn’t see herself as a stepmother, her bond with Tyler and Emily was so quick and complete that she feels they're her own children, and the complexity of her relationship with them is typical of any good mother. She's the nurturer in the family, and loves being a soft place for her kids to land. She believes Ronald puts too much pressure on Tyler, and pays Emily too little attention, so she's too hard on Emily and too soft with Tyler, unwittingly over-correcting the disparity. Through all of this, she has to find a way to hold on to her love for Ronald. "Waves" is as much about parenting as it's young people trying to survive and flourish in a challenging world. There’s a fear in Catherine, having lost her husband, of losing anybody else, and certainly losing either of her children to a world that can be cruel sometimes. A lot of the way in which she parents her children, especially his boy, comes out of that fear, making sure she holds on very tight so that he doesn’t lose again. You can feel hope at the end of "Waves", like these people can pull through their struggles. That’s the ebb and flow at work at the heart of this story. You know they’re going to pull through and survive, even when it feels like they might drown. "Waves" is a uniquely bifurcated movie, split into two distinct segments and conjoined by a virtuoso middle passage. The film focuses on the brother in the first part and the sister in the second, two couples on each side, with the parents linking things throughout. There’s a frenetic energy in the first part of the movie versus the more languid and reflective second portion, which illuminates the siblings and what they’re going through in terms of their respective relationships and their quest for identity. As explosive as the first section is on the page, the second part is beautiful and satisfying in a completely different way. At times it still feels claustrophobic and suffocating, but at other times it feels open and free as the character’s journeys progress. It's refreshing this time around to focus on the full world of the characters, their relationships and dynamics. It's a searing story of one family pushed to the brink of destruction, and how they find rebirth and renewal through love, connection, communication, and atonement. It's a uniquely structured story of American life right now, tracing the different trajectories and coping strategies of two South Florida siblings searching for meaning and identity in the wake of trauma. A deeply personal statement on love and loss, propelled by an exhilarating soundtrack, including songs by Frank Ocean and 'Radiohead'. The film compromises visuals and musical collaborations, revealing how deeply love and loss can reverberate through our lives and families. Centered on an 'African-American' family living in 'South Florida', "Waves" is also an examination of parental pressure and the limitations of love, how finding communication between parent and child, and allowing vulnerability to be expressed on both sides, is essential to the limit of both. The film feels at times that it could go anywhere, and often does, in keeping with the restless spirit of modern youth the film both addresses and captures. This is a movie that deals in raw emotions, rage, anger, frustration, joy, freedom, and liberation. It’s easy to call it a movie about American teenagers in search of themselves, but this is a more primal experience. The movements behind the film feel much more elemental than identity driven. When you see this, you’re experiencing something raw and real. "Waves" examines love in it's myriad incarnations, tracing how, at different times, it can both push people apart and draw them together. This is a movie about the highs and lows of love, romantic love, familial love, what it means to have a passion for something, and what happens when everything falls apart. The film paints the dark side of love and emotions. The film also shows how redemption and renewal can be found within the embers of the destruction, breaking the cycle of trauma and anger that often passes from generation to generation. “Waves" exudes an ebb and flow resembling how we think life truly feels at times.

(London Film Festival, October 6th, 2019, Vue West End, 3 Cranbourn St, Leicester Square, London WC2H 7AL, United Kingdom, 10:00am) https://whatson.bfi.org.uk/lff/Online/default.asp?BOparam::WScontent::loadArticle::permalink=luce&BOparam::WScontent::loadArticle::context_id= "Luce" It’s been ten years since Amy Edgar (Naomi Watts) and Peter (Tim Roth) adopted their son Luce (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) from war-torn Eritrea, and they thought the worst was behind them. Luce has become an all-star student beloved by his community in Arlington, Virginia. He's a poster boy for 'The New American Dream'. His 'African American' teacher, Harriet Wilson (Octavia Spencer), believes he's a symbol of black excellence that sets a positive example for his peers. But when he's assigned to write an essay in the voice of a historical twentieth-century figure, Luce turns in a paper that makes an alarming statement about political violence. Worried about how this assignment reflects upon her star pupil, Harriet searches his locker and finds something that confirms her worst fears and Luce’s stellar reputation is called into question. But is he really at fault or is Harriet Wilson preying on dangerous stereotypes? Luce is a deeply complex and conflicted character who contains multitudes. Who's he in a nutshell, does he even know who he's? Luce is like a kid with a 'Lamborghini' who doesn't have a license to drive yet. He's incredibly smart and contains multitudes, but he's still trying to figure things out. While he outwardly projects this idealized perfect image, there's a roiling tension beneath the surface, he's trying to figure out who he's, but he's also wondering if he's selling himself out. He sees the world around him, in his school, and his community, and senses that something isn't right. This is a young man in search of himself who wants to attack the idealized versions of ourselves that we all sell, which he feels guilty of selling as well. But at the same time, he understands that he's the beneficiary of privilege gained by selling some of those same platitudes. Yet despite the privileges afforded by his proximity to whiteness through his parents, he’s still black. He still faces many of the challenges blackness brings, most obviously, he's profiled for writing a paper about violence in a way a white peer would most likely not be. Luce is a budding revolutionary. In the play, where a certain kind of abstraction works well Luce wrote about an unnamed 'Eastern European Revolutionary'. But for the movie it required a specificity that's psychological, emotional and historical. Revolutionary movements in 'North Africa' in the 50s shaped thinking on what's necessary for the true liberation of colonized peoples. It's about the idea that violence is a cleaning force that would produce new men. And this liberation is both from imperialists oppressors and internalized imperialist thinking. This is also part of Luce’s conflict with Harriet, he's seeking to liberate himself and decolonize his mind in ways he thinks she hasn’t. So, it's important that the substance of his paper spoke to ideological values that directly related to how Luce explores his identity in America. Luce is a bit like 'Uncle Charlie' in Hitchcock's "Shadow Of A Doubt", we're not sure if he's good or evil or something in between. Everything you see with Luce and his family is an effort to tell the story from the outside in. You're on the outside initially, but as you peel away the layers of the story, you come closer and closer to seeing Luce's true nature, but never definitively. Some people will be faster than others in piecing together his reality, but that shadow of a doubt remains throughout. That's important because in life we're always going to be limited by our perceptions, and that sense of perception is so critical to understanding Luce and his surroundings. If you're to see Luce walking down the street, or watch him give a speech in an auditorium, all you would know about him is what you see. We always bring our own personal history and assumptions and impose them on others. We pigeonhole people, and oppress them based on appearances, class, gender, and other factors, though we're seldom cognizant of the limits of our ability to understand what's in front of us. Part of the thriller component of this story is seeing those shifting perceptions in play, especially through the character of Amy. She's trying to figure out who her son is at the same time we're trying to figure out who he is, through the web of relationships he has with the people in his school. Barack Obama and Will Smith are the apotheosis of a cool, but non-threatening black masculinity. Not long-ago characters like John Prentice and Phil Huxtable gave America a vision of this non-threatening and respectable sense of black masculinity, but it's quite old-fashioned and sort of defiantly un-cool. What Will did, and what Obama was able to do in his shadow, was much different. They allowed black masculinity to stay non-threatening but also be cool and youthful and particularly with Obama, be highly intelligent. This became a counterpoint to the recent image of black masculinity that emerged with 90s hip-hop, with rappers like 'Ice Cube', 'Snoop Dogg' or 'Dr. Dre.', who were seen as oversexualized and criminal. Will Smith and Barack Obama came along and provided something new that lived between those poles and was widely embraced. So, it's an ideal template for Luce. As Luce's mother, Amy undergoes the most dramatic shift in perception of all the characters. It's essentially the story of her awakening. Peter, Principal Dan, Harriet Wilson all have specific points of view, but Amy has a more conflicted perspective. Things happen over the course of the story and she has to decide where she ultimately stands, and what she's willing to accept and not accept as a mother and a member of this community. At the end of her journey she isn't the kind of person you necessarily want her to be. She winds up being a reflection of what we’re all capable of when we're under pressure and placed in similar situations. Luce's parents are liberal, well intentioned people whose values become tested. We know a lot of people like Amy and Peter. People who are educated, smart, privileged and profess certain liberal values. What's interesting about the story is what happens when people who look good on paper discover tension between the values they profess and having to actually live those values. For the film to work Amy and Peter have to be relatable, theyre people who believe in the kinds of things we generally want to say we believe in, but when placed in a difficult situation we find they might not have the vocabulary or experience to deal with tension in sophisticated ways. They've a degree of obliviousness as well, their good intentions become a path to a destructive place without it necessarily being rooted in some malevolent impulse. The tension between Ms. Wilson and Luce is fascinating because they're both black people; what might have been the ultimate lifeline for Luce becomes something else. The film focuses on the generational schism between Luce and Harriet in this movie. She's a product of 'The Sixties', and civil rights, the liberal movement that was about erasing the differences between people and focusing on a language of uplift; you can see the direct line of this from Martin Luther King to Barack Obama. Here's a colorblind, non-confrontational ethos of how we address issues of race, power and privilege in this country. Luce is a product of something completely different, he's saying to Harriet that if the point of that movement, and of revolution in general, was to give us the freedom to be who we want to be, then he should have the freedom to define himself entirely on his own terms. This means not having to sentimentalize himself or subscribe to a kind of respectability politics in order to be accepted or tolerated. This notion of respectability politics is still so pervasive in an older generation of 'African Americans'. Somebody like Luce, who has incredible intellectual horsepower and who's so well read and sophisticated for a 17-year-old, understands that to subscribe to this philosophy would be to imprison one's self in an even more limiting way. This is the argument Luce is having with Harriet, if we continue to play the game of having to be perfect, and fit this narrow definition of acceptability, then we're not actually making progress in being fully human. But Harriet wants him to understand that the reality of life is harsh, and as much as he may want to believe he can be anyone he wants to be, he has to be prepared for a world that may not accept that. Harriet has power over Luce abecause of her position within the school system, but Luce has power relative to Harriet because of the privilege his white family affords him. The ideological rift of who we get to be, and who truly has power and privilege to define that, is the core of the tension between them It's easy to feel like Dan Towson (Leo Butz) is on the periphery of the story, but he represents the entire community outside of Luce's family and Harriet Wilson. He has a legitimate desire to see Luce succeed, never mind what Luce symbolizes to the community, he's the dream package; the black immigrant who also represents what a star student who goes through this system can become. Principal Dan stands for that self-congratulatory strain some of these communities can have. Certainly, and it's not all diabolical but at the same time it's complicated and some of the elements involved can have a negative effect. We've to make Principal Dan just right on the page; he couldn't come across as a monster, a dolt or a saint. You've to find a way to walk a fine line between being a little bit aloof, while you know there's a lot more going on underneath, in the person as well as the system he represents. Because of who she's, a woman, a person of color, Harriet faces certain vulnerabilities and so does her sister Rosemary (Masha Blake), who has the added complications of being poor and mentally ill. She faces vulnerabilities because of his race and class that others who engage in similar disruptive behavior don’t, while Luce’s proximity to whiteness affords him certain privileges that other black characters don't enjoy. Rosemary not punishing the character, she's a illustration of how insidious and destructive the systems of power that exist today are. This character reveals how interrelated and overlapping factors can grant someone power in one situation while depriving them of it in another. Stephanie Kim (Andrea Bang) is one of the most ambiguous characters, as we see from her relationship to Luce, Harriet believes there's a symbolic burden of representation those in marginalized groups have to carry. Just like she spotlights Luce’s symbolic value of black success and of black delinquency, she also spotlights Stephanie Kim for the symbolic value she represents as a victim of abuse. But much like Luce, Stephanie rejects this reductive assessment of her personhood. Stephanie doesn’t want her traumatic experience of sexual abuse to be used to label her only as a victim in order to prove a point. The complicated and sometimes hard to comprehend ways she reacts to her attack exist in the same shades of gray as Luce and every other character in the story. Stephanie’s assault is real, but the ambiguity of her response reflects her complicated inner life and her efforts to define her own identity. In portraying those ambiguities, it's important to be honest about how the limits of our perception come into play with Stephanie, Luce and all the characters. The other approach in raising questions is rooted in the use of language in the play and film. The story’s emphasis on language is as a means to explore how it can be utilized as an instrument of power and privilege. In well meaning, liberal environments there are not the same overt symbols of prejudice and supremacy. But language becomes a way to establish codes of acceptability and also to inflict psychological and emotional power on others by way of what is said and what isn’t. The ability to decide when and how issues of identity are raised and resolved and to code it in language that can be weaponized is a privilege reserved for those in positions of dominance. Letting the characters engage in the seemingly simple act of talking is essential to dramatize how language plays a critical role in the wielding of power. Arlington, Virginia, it's distinctively suburban, but it's also a melting pot. 'South Arlington' has a big immigrant population, mostly 'Salvadoran' and 'Bolivian', and while it's not actively segregated, it's divided by real estate values. Arlington has progressive ideals that run up against internalized prejudices that people either aren't aware of or refuse to acknowledge. There's a reference to 'black white' in the movie, someone who's really black versus someone who's black but accepted among whites. Adapted from JC Lee’s play 'The Standards', the film skillfully stretches the epidermal pores of 'The American Dream' to emit the unseemly elements seething beneath it's surface. It's about a kid from 'Long Island' who cheated on 'The SATs'. The play was produced in 'The Obama Era'. It's created around blackness and black identity and how it played out between a woman who's 'African American', who's born and raised in this country and a kid who's an immigrant from Africa. It's about the notion of being an outsider. If you an 'African American', you've this whole history thrust on you that's something entirely organic to who you're than the color of your skin. The film envisions a different beast in 'The Trump Era'. Between the play and the movie things changed. 'Black Lives Matter' emerged, 'The Me Too' movement broke out. These events are happening parallel to the development process and touches on elements of the script. The original play consisted of five characters and two settings; so the film shows more of Luce’s world in Arlington to ground it and bring it to life. That said the play already has the architecture of a thriller so the movie, adapts it in a way that feels organic to JC's original storytelling but shifted some of the ideas into a more cinematic space. It's never a case of superimposing beats onto the existing story in order to gin up the action. Everything in the movie comes organically from the decisions and beliefs of the characters. Despite how different we're on some levels, we've a similar sensibility when it comes to explore ideas and issues. Neither of us want to tell stories that are prescriptive or didactic in how they explore complex social issues. The film wants to ask people to consider their blind spots, and to recognize their experience of the world will never be identical with anyone else's. The questions of power and privilege are clearly central to the film. One of the key concerns with "Luce", and intertwined with exploring identity, is exploring power, who has it, who doesn’t, and how our institutions uphold the rigid systems of power that disadvantage certain demographics. So much of the dialogue in our culture right now is about confronting systems of power that disenfranchise women, 'The LGBTQIA' community, people of color, people with disabilities and a myriad of other marginalized groups. "Luce" explores how life can be experienced by those on the receiving end of exploitative and unfair power dynamics. Elegant and energetic, "Luce" is a complex and psychological thriller about trust, privilege, and the human need to categorize the world as we see it. The film creates an intense, multi-layered and deeply entertaining look at identity in today’s America. "Luce" represents the best and worst of black identity. He’s got this effortless brilliance and charm, is a great speaker, and a talented athlete. But at the same time, he has a history of violence as a child soldier. His story is very complicated. There’s a segment of 'The African American Community' that feels it's important that stories that come out dealing with black identity must be aspirational, they should convey a positive message and lift up the race. It's understandable why so many of us seek stories of wish-fulfillment and uplift after a long history of being marginalized, objectified and criminalized in popular culture. But the challenge comes when confronting the systemic conditions that oppress many groups. The catharsis of wish-fulfillment can often distract from the reality so many actually face and allow systems of power imbalance to go without being confronted or interrogated. It absolves those who hold power from having to reflect on their role in contributing to the marginalization of others. This happens on every level; class, gender, sexuality, race and more. If those systems of power are not truly confronted or interrogated, how can they be dismantled? Without tension, without conflict, and without ambiguity in the stories and characters, it’s very difficult to discover how to move forward. As Americans we seem unable to discuss in a forthright way the things that make us uncomfortable, or the things that terrify us, without sentimentalizing them or reducing them to their most symbolic value. If our stories only pacify us, we’re doing ourselves a disservice. The film gives people an opportunity to reflect and ask questions. Whatever they feel about the movie is theirs to feel, it's more about the opportunity to reflect upon and engage with ideas. It challenges them to stand outside of their own experience and 'POV' and forces them to ask how they're participating in the way privilege and power operates in this country and in our world.

(Release Info London schedule; November 25th, 2019, Curzon Aldgate, 2 Goodman's Fields, Whitechapel, London E1 8PS, United Kingdom, 6:14 pm) "Knives Out" "Knives Out" is a fun, modern-day murder mystery where everyone is a suspect. When renowned crime novelist Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer) is found dead at his estate just after his 85th birthday, the inquisitive and debonair Detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) is mysteriously enlisted to investigate. From Harlan’s dysfunctional family to his devoted staff, Blanc sifts through a web of red herrings and self-serving lies to uncover the truth behind Harlan’s untimely death. "Knives Out" is a witty and stylish whodunnit guaranteed to keep audiences guessing until the very end. The recipe is a classic. Take one group of entitled eccentrics, mix with a handful of their faithful staff, add one dead body, and set to boil in an over-polished yet mystifying mansion under the watchful eye of a master sleuth until a murderer appears, ready to serve a lifetime of incarceration. This delicious scenario gets a thoroughly modern makeover, pierced through by a lacerating wit and a razor-sharp take on '21st Century' social mores and family bonds. It’s also one that will keep you guessing till it's final frames. Channeling the spirit of Hercule Poirot by way of Colonel Sanders, "Knives Out" features Benoit Blanc, a Southern-fried private investigator who finds himself at the center of a modern-day murder mystery worthy of Agatha Christie. Following the death of world famous writer and family patriarch Harlan Thrombey, Blanc, partnering with Lieutenant Elliott (LaKeith Stanfield) and Trooper Wagner (Noah Segan), proceeds to interview the Thrombey clan, an all-star ensemble of grieving misfits united by their solemn love of the old man’s now readily available fortune. With a wound to Harlan’s neck and a knife still in his cold hand, the case, for Lieutenant Elliott and Trooper Wagner at least, looks like a suicide. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. The world famous Benoit Blanc, the last of the gentleman sleuths, rightly suspects foul play. And as Blanc and the local lawmen begin questioning 'The Thrombey' family and their staff, it quickly becomes clear that not one suspect has a story that even begins to clear their name. Fortunately, Blanc has a secret weapon in Marta (Ana de Armas), the late patriarch’s Latina caregiver and possibly the last person to see him alive, a doe-eyed innocent, beloved by all. A young woman, incapable of telling a lie without losing her lunch, she proves a useful, if conflicted, ally for Blanc, as he chips away at each Thrombey’s potential motive, dubious alibi, and even more rickety sense of self. Filing their greed, personal grievances and motives to a fine point, Blanc watches as the family proceeds to slowly devour one another, right up until the final shocking reveal, when all of their assumptions about themselves and each other are finally upended. The film opens with a cast of modern day characters who are startlingly real; characters who could reflect the sprawling, mess of family life today, while navigating the social, political and class divides of the times. When you've a labyrinth of so many different characters, and so many different motives and all these twists and turns, even if you've the basic structure of it down, there’s a lot of math that you still have to do. The film wants the pleasures of the questioning at the beginning, the eccentric detective, the big scene at the end where the whole thing gets laid out, all the stuff we love about mysteries, but also to use the mechanics of a thriller to pull you into all that’s really going on in this family. The key is making all those mechanics invisible to the audience, so they’re just on this fun ride. At the center of the "Knives Out" storm is it's victim, Harlan Thrombey, a fabulously successful writer of mystery novels who has amassed a fortune, a loyal following of readers and a coterie of deadbeat relatives, by the strength of his creativity and hard work. But so too is Thrombey a man who, in his later years, has come to regret the consequences that his exorbitant wealth has had on his loved ones. Harlan’s final night is among the favorite scene in the movie. It covers so many different tones. It goes from funny, to scary, to sad, all in a few moments. Benoit Blanc is a different kind of lawman, the decidedly offbeat, world famous private detective. He's a genteel Southern gumshoe who sets each member of the Thrombey family just off-balance enough so that the pieces of the complex puzzle surrounding Harlan Thrombey’s death fall into place. Whether it’s 'Poirot', 'Columbo', 'Mrs. Marple' or whoever, one of the big unifying elements among movie detectives is that there’s always something about them that makes you not quite take them seriously. Benoit Blanc is a fun, flawed character. The character is based on 'The Civil War' historian and writer, Shelby Foote, who has this beautiful, lyrical accent. To find Harlan Thrombey’s killer, Benoit Blanc joins forces with two local lawmen, Lieutenant Elliott, a man all but ready to rule Thrombey’s death a suicide until the last of the gentleman sleuths gives him pause to reconsider, his partner, Trooper Wagner (Noah Segan). Lieutenant Elliott is a consummate by-the-book professional who's none too convinced by Blanc’s unconventional investigations but just wants to see if Blanc’s suspicions could have some kind of truth to them. Elliot can be very funny but he’s always got this genuineness to him that make him a great foil for Benoit Blanc. As Blanc and Elliott sift through clues, their assistant, Trooper Wagner, struggles to keep up with the case’s never-ending twists and turns. There's a reason why the character hasn’t passed the detective test. But since he’s one of the few characters in the film who's clearly not a suspect. The magic of the story is that we quickly learn that absolutely everyone in the family has a reason to see Harlan Thrombey die and absolutely everybody has a skeleton in their closet. So many suspects. So little time. Why it’s enough to make poor Trooper Wagner’s head spin. In an effort to facilitate further investigations into the unfortunate demise of Harlan Thrombey, please consider the notes below regarding the primary suspects in this most tragic matter. Surely, it can’t be that hard to pick the real killer out of this bunch? As the mystery and mutual suspicion surrounding Harlan Thrombey’s death deepens, his salivating family awaits the arrival of one man and one man only; Alan (Frank Oz), the family lawyer, who will reveal the contents of Harlan’s final will. Linda Drysdale (Jamie Lee Curtis), née Thrombey, Harlan's eldest daughter, is a chip off the old block. A driven, self-made businesswoman, she shares much in common with her deceased father. She has just lost her father so there's a lot of sadness there. But she’s also the eldest sibling, so she feels the pressure to step up and become the new family elder. She's a strong woman who's reeling with grief and wrestling with a sense of duty to her father’s legacy. And she immediately, and perhaps suspiciously, resists Blanc’s sudden intrusion into their family’s affairs. At the same time, she’s funny, warm and deeply intelligent. Richard (Don Johnson), Linda’s dashing husband, second-in-command at her successful real estate business and second class citizen in their marriage, has enjoyed the privileges that wealth brings. But while having married into 'The Thrombeys' once seemed full of advantages, Richard now faces some of the downsides, including being a suspect in his father-in-law’s murder. He's a very smarmy dude and has such a blast with it. The only son of Linda and Richard Drysdale, Ransom (Chris Evans) is an aimless, spoiled, trust fund kid; the defiant black sheep of the family who loves nothing more than calling the clan out on their self-serving hypocrisy. Ransom is a man who’s been born with everything, except a moral compass. He’s cynical, arrogant and he’s got one of the most dangerous qualities a person can have; he thinks nothing is ever his fault and he always believes he’s the victim. It comes from the fact that he feels so much pressure and heavy expectation from his family. Ransom handles it by aiming to disappoint people before they can even ask anything of him. And when he arrives at the Thrombey mansion, it’s kind of like a big, dark rain cloud coming in. Harlan’s youngest son, Walt (Michael Shannon), who suffers from an ever so slight inferiority complex, had hoped to prove himself to his father and the world at large, by running the family publishing business. But when his plans for a major expansion are shot down by Harlan's refusal to cooperate, could it possibly have left him contemplating a new career, in murder? Harlan Thrombey’s trusted caregiver, Marta, the hardworking daughter of undocumented immigrants, may be closer to Harlan than anyone in his family, a bond she hopes will keep her own lengthy list of secrets, safe. Marta always felt she had to be discreet about who she really is, an outsider whose status as one of the family soon shifts to that of potential suspect in the wake of the old man’s death. 'The Thrombey' family can be casually racist and classist and other than Harlan, Marta suspects that they don’t really care about her. But nothing Marta does in the story comes out of hate or vengeance. She's someone trying to survive and to navigate her way out of a crazy situation the best possible way she can. Marta is the discovery of this movie and people are going to be blown away by her. The widow of Harlan’s deceased son, Joni Thrombey (Toni Collette) lives in California where she struggles to keep her 'New Age' lifestyle-biz, Flam, afloat. Indeed, due to her dire financial circumstances, Joni and her unwitting daughter Meg (Katherine Langford) have grown a little too accustomed to living off of big daddy Harlan’s largesse. Yup, say what you will about the purity of this woman’s chakras, she’s as big a suspect as anyone else. She truly wants to be all about bringing positivity and good energy and trying to help people live their best lives. But much as she wants to believe in all that, when Harlan withdraws his material support her world falls apart. Could simply being married to Walt Thrombey drive a woman to murder? Well, Donna (Riki Lindhome) is someone who just under the surface seems like she’s about to snap at any moment. Donna is someone who thought her life was going to be perfect when she married Walt Thrombey. She now realizes that perfection isn’t coming, yet she’s holding on as hard as she can. Walt and Donna’s rebellious son, Jacob (Jaeden Martell), is an outlier among 'The Thrombeys', a prep school bad boy, alt-right internet troll, and youngest member of the family clan. But what exactly does this teenager get up to when he isn’t online? The only daughter of Toni Collette’s Joni, Meg (Katherine Langford) is a progressive, perpetual college student who's scandalized and embarrassed by her mother. Meg represents a new generation of Thrombeys, more clued-in to the world around her. What really intrigues about Meg is that she’s the one who tries to be a bridge between 'The Thrombey' family and Marta. Meg has a different perspective from the other characters as a 20-something with views that are relatable to a lot of young people today. Rounding out 'The Thrombey' clan is the family’s eldest member, dear old Nana Thrombey (K. Callan). Indeed, she’s so old that no one even knows her age. Nana is a woman of few words. But has she been quietly witnessing everything? To give each member a look as distinctive as 'The Thrombey' mansion, the film creates something very modern, yet each character is completely distinct. We've to understand who the characters are and how they live. Starting with Harlan Thrombey, the film crafts a trademark look with the loud, rebellious combo of plaid jacket and pink shirt. So it’s a look that speaks to Harlan’s wealth and occupation, but also to his more human side. Benoit Blanc’s elegant look involved more of a process. Initially, the film envisions him in a dapper white linen suit. Later in the film the look becomes more understated, but with subtle nods to Blanc’s Southern heritage. He’s a bit eccentric and flowery, he has floral ties and a matching handkerchief and floral touches on his socks, but it’s never over the top. For Linda and Richard Drysdale the film choses luxurious fabrics and boldly confident, yet classic looks. Linda wears the most blaring hues along with ostentatiously expensive jewelry. We've a lot of bright pink and turquoise for Linda; those are colors which in a film you’d usually think are too loud, but it's perfect for this character. For Richard it's all about the cashmere. His character isn’t flashy, but he definitely likes expensive things and he’s very, very pulled together. Linda’s brother Walt is the antithesis of a fashionista. Walt's character is the son who hasn’t really succeeded, so his look is more disheveled and everything's a little awkward and off. Joni, brings a woozy gust of California into the mansion. Her look follows the tone of her lifestyle brand, light, airy and flowy. The film puts Joni in all this diaphanous clothing, billowing silks and soft pastels, and every fitting is incredible. Ransom brakes out the kind of in-crowd couture pieces a trust funder would wear with casual disdain, including a luxurious, long cashmere coat. Ransom is rich, eccentric and he doesn't care about anything. He’s the kind of person who throws his very elegant, very expensive coat on the floor. That really plays to a character who disrespects the money, the house, and everyone in it. Marta is a working class outsider who stands apart from 'The Thrombey' family, while also attempting to fit in. She looks like an ordinary person who's trying to support her family. She’s not the type who wears a nurse uniform or scrubs. She wears casual, functional clothes that show she has become comfortable as part of Harlan Thrombey’s world, but there’s also a hint of someone who hasn’t been able to have much of a life outside of work. The house is an outward mirror of the kind of world Harlan liked to create in his books. A house that pays homage to the genre, yet be unique to the films contemporary vision. Because Harlan’s house plays such an important role in the film, the question is always how you can keep it visually interesting at every turn and give it real scope. The idea is that with each level you go up, things get stranger and stranger, each room getting more eccentric and more colorful than the last until you reach Harlan's domain. 'The 3rd' floor is comprised of Harlan's hallway, bedroom and study, and all three of those are built on a stage to give maximum flexibility for the key sequences on the night of Harlan’s death. Another period mansion provided one of the film’s most memorable interiors; Harlan’s library. Here the film works with a balconied space featuring two-story bookshelves and wrought iron railings, going so far as to design comic-tinged book titles and covers. As a finishing touch, the film suspends from the ceiling an eye-popping sculpture made from glistening, crossed knives that becomes the centerpiece of the film. While the rooms features plush furnishings, rich brocades, ornately carved wood, imposing portraits, marble fireplaces and stunning antiques, the sophisticated, museum-like ambiance is constantly undercut by a slew of shocking knickknacks. From medieval armor and bizarre theater props to bloody portraits, many of these unconventional items are sourced from around the globe, while others are custom-created. One of the most fun things about "Knives Out" is that every time you walked into a new room, there are wild treasures everywhere. The closer you get to any object, the more you’d realize something is just a little bit off. It reflects the whole tone of the movie, where you think you're in this beautiful estate with a family that has everything, but then you realize there's something amiss with them. The house has a remarkable ability to snap you right into the time, place, and the spirit of the material. So it’s all a little bit twisted. The script presents all these wild characters and different possibilities for the crime, and then it keeps throwing you for a loop. With each character, there's a reason to be invested in them and equally, a reason to distrust them. A big part of the fun in a story like this is questioning your own judgement and moral barometer as things get complicated. It's a perfect dysfunctional family comedy because there are characters from every generation. It’s one of those movies that will be really fun to see with your own dysfunctional family. The film puts all the characters on firm ground and then he pulls that ground away from them, so you never know where the story is going. It's an enjoyable ride. It makes you laugh and it surprises you, but that it might also make you think. The film brings in so many things that we’re dealing with in our lives today. "Knives Out" does it in a way where you never stop feeling entertained. This is a really fun, modern movie full of clues and complications and family dynamics. Agatha Christie’s stories weren’t message-y, but if you look at her characters, they're very much about British society at the time. That tends to get lost today when you see all those butlers and colonels. You forget that at the time those were very fresh references to the different strata of the society. This film is a chance to use this genre to look at contemporary America and the types of people we’re familiar with right now was exciting. But then you’re taken aback because you’re so invested in these characters, and the movie becomes a much deeper, wilder ride than you're anticipating. "Knives Out" feels incredibly contemporary because it’s so fast-moving, complex and tightly.

The zombie flick. It is a long-standing genre within cinema. Since George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968), the late filmmaker’s influential first foray into the world of the undead, zombies are now a mainstay within filmic society. And as Romero himself understood, it is a genre that needs to evolve and stay fresh, rather than decay and lumber around as many zombies love to do. This is where Train to Busan (2016) triumphs; it is set against the classic and well-known premise of infection breaking out in society, but the triumph is in the setting (yes, on a train, and yes, heading for Busan) and the zombies themselves. Trains are, more often than not, crowded and claustrophobic. A whole bunch of different people with different personalities are thrust together at random. Director Yeon Sang-ho and writer Park Joo-suk must have had this thought process and then had the lightbulb moment of “let’s add zombies to that”. The result is ingenious and terrifying, and makes for some brilliantly tense set-pieces. One infected woman convulsing as the train departs the station is all it takes, as she rises seconds later as a zombie, biting a train attendant and thus infecting most of the other passengers. The zombies tear through the train carriages, swarming those on board. It turns out it is very hard to escape zombies on a train carriage… very hard. It would be cruel to spoil the set-pieces, but let’s just say the survivors are impressive in their ideas of how to escape being bitten. Apart from one stop at an already infected train station, the film remains with our group of survivors on the train, all the while heading to Busan, where a quarantine zone is reportedly established. It is this fresh setting that really makes the film tick; there is tension, there is terror, and all of this created within the confines of a train. The Walking Dead (2010-), for example, had zombies that were slow and cumbersome; the terror in that show is the sheer number of zombies, hordes numbering thousands at times. In Train to Busan, the zombies are more akin to those seen in 28 Days Later. They are terrifically quick and fevered, as well as being high on number. Add in some gruesome contortion and movement during and after transformation, and it makes for some of the most frightening zombies ever seen in the genre. As can often be the case in this genre, there are a notable amount of archetypical characters – the teenage schoolchildren, the evil one who cares only about themselves, the pregnant lady and doting partner – but even these are executed well enough by the actors. Gong Yoo and Kim Su-an, meanwhile, are great as father and daughter, showing their stilted relationship to the audience but also highlighting the love that keeps them together. Ma Dong-seok, however, steals the show, trying to protect his pregnant wife and giving you moments of laughter and fist-pumping, sometimes simultaneously. The story too can be thin at times, especially with the lack of explanation as to the cause of the outbreak, but really this film is about the zombies, and the terror they cause upon one single train. And it delivers.

(Release Info London schedule; April 30th, 2021, Curzon Home Cinema) https://homecinema.curzon.com/film/the-artists-wife/ "The Artist's Wife" Once a promising painter herself, Claire Smythson (Lena Olin) gave up on her own career to stand by the side of her famed abstract artist husband Richard (Bruce Dern) for over 20 years. She lives a domestic life in the shadow of her husband’s illustrious career. When Richard is unexpectedly diagnosed with dementia during preparations for his latest exhibition, Claire is thrown into a crisis; suddenly torn between her husband’s erratic mood swings and the need to shield his illness from both the art community and their family. As his memory and behavior deteriorate, she shields his condition from the art community while trying to reconnect him with his estranged daughter Angela (Juliet Rylance) and grandson Gogo (Ravi Cabot-Conyers) from a previous marriage. Struggling to regain control of her life, Claire takes up painting once again. Challenged by the loss of her world as she knew it, Claire must now decide whether to stand with Richard on the sidelines or step into the spotlight herself. Can she finds her power as she deals with the disintegration of the man she loved? Lee Krasner. Elaine De Kooning. Camille Claudel. Dora Maar. History is filled with female artists who've supported their more famous husbands or partners. "The Artist’s Wife" is a tribute to these women, a contemporary imagining of the journey of the stronger woman behind the man, and what happens when the relationship begins to crumble due to circumstances beyond either person’s control. In our cinematic landscape today, the experience of the middle-aged woman as she enters the third act of life is often ignored. In "The Artist’s Wife", Claire’s passage is about new beginnings, about rediscovering the parts of herself that she left behind during the early years of her marriage, as well as recognizing qualities she never knew she had. Stories about women spending their lives supporting their husbands are not, rightly so, where our culture is oriented today. They may strike us as retrograde or well-trodden ground, not worthy of exploration. "The Artist’s Wife" reclaims this narrative, showing the tail end of this journey of living in, and coming out of, the shadows. Though we see Claire making great sacrifices, with dignity, to the film’s conclusion, we know she has a future beyond that with her husband. Claire’s story, the part we see, is one of commitment, of sticking with the life she has chosen, at least until circumstances change. "The Artist’s Wife" honors the many women and men who've stuck by their partners, artists or otherwise, through challenging circumstances. Though the film’s story begins with Richard’s disease causing the inciting series of incidents, "The Artist’s Wife" is not an 'Alzheimer’s' movie in the traditional sense. Though there are many fine films in this subgenre, the story is instead about the caregiver, about Claire’s experience with the disease. As the years went by,we notice that in the film, the perspective of the caretaker is largely ignored. Whether one views the story as an 'Alzheimer’s' movie or not, Richard’s dementia represents to Claire a call to reclaim her own past when it's, like his memories, in danger of slipping away. His illness prompts her passage into her creative soul, not initially to protect his dignity, but to save her own. These two goals collide at the end of the film, and she must make the decision that's right for her. Society and popular culture have told us that the years around sixty are about slowing down, about retiring, a word that's originated as meaning to withdraw to a place of safety or seclusion. But why should the third act of life be one of retreating, repressing, hiding? The hope for Claire at the end of the film is that she's ready for a new chapter, one in which she will shine as brightly as her husband once did. 'The problem with being constantly surrounded by bright lights',,she says, is that they make you feel there’s already enough light in the world. May the film’s narrative allow Claire to release this belief and let her talent run free, it's brilliant beams lighting up the sky.

15 Minute Pit Stops In 2025, it will only take 15 minutes to recharge your car. In these circumstances, what would you do with those 15 minutes to recharge yourself while you recharge your car? Send in your pitches for a 3 to 5 minute original short film that tells the story about a future where you have 15 minutes to yourself to do whatever you want while you wait for your car to recharge. A total of 3 pitches will be chosen to make into short films. If your pitch is one of the winners, you will receive a production budget of $15,000 to produce and deliver your short film in three weeks. Your pitch should be in English and include an original title, a written script, a concept explanation, a budget breakdown of your proposed 3 to 5 minute film, your biography, and links to your previous work. Bids may also include visuals such as story boards, mood boards, or sample images. The finished films will be promoted through a paid social media campaign and live on BASF’s website. For Competition Details Visit: https://www.filmaka.com/competition-brand-basf.php?p=1

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This is a crime drama film which is written, directed by and starring BAFTA-award winning Noel Clarke. It serves as the sequel to Adulthood and the third installment in the hood series. The film is again centered on the troubled and now dad of two Sam Peel, who is portrayed by Noel Clarke. It seems as though sixteen years after Sam has murdered Trife that there are still people out there who want him dead and this is a problem he has to overcome throughout Brotherhood. Sam’s younger brother Royston is an aspiring musician and is shot in the opening scene, which Sam believes the shooter is somebody who is really out to get him. Sam goes to visit Alissa, who after all these years has forgiven Sam. He gives her some money for their daughter. She informs Sam that they must tell her soon what really happened. Sam has always been troubled as a youth and is now still troubled as a grown man, he has bettered himself in some way as he now works in a local gym. Sam learns from Royston’s friend that the shooting was not an accident, Henry gives him a letter with an address on it and a furious Sam storms over to the address. He gains access to the house but is unfortunately outnumbered. After being jumped by many the fight is intervened by a conceited but successful criminal, Daley. All three of the films are well known for its drug use as well as violence. This film in particular wraps a quite torrid and emotional 16 years for Sam. Noel Clarke’s character started out as an aggressive teenage bully whose life was seen to be on the line on more than one occasion, specifically in Adulthood. It seems as though in this film he gets as stable as he can, but acknowledges that after all these years he is unfortunately still looking over his shoulder for crimes he committed nearly 20 years ago. The question is will Sam continue with his criminal ways or will he change so there is a much brighter future for his children. Throughout the film he faces a large number of people who want to hurt him. In one of the better scenes of the film Sam gets jumped by some younger guys in the middle of the street and it does not look good for him at all. Luckily in the nick of time his brother’s friend Henry arrives and the pair of them escape. Despite getting away, Sam realises that his family is in danger. As a result of this, he makes a phone call to his partner Kayla and advises her and the kids to spend the night at her mum’s as these people know where they live. Do you remember in Kidulthood, Uncle Curtis? He has many run-ins with Sam throughout the film and none of them are pleasant. Towards the end of the film there is a vicious stand-off between the pair of them. Can Sam leave this life in the past and protect his family?