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“Regardless of what happens next - we’ll be fine.”

Wes Anderson's film “The Phoenician Scheme” is an explosion of wild energy, precisely framed and in pastel tones — and one of the most exciting films (for me) that he has made in recent years. Although unmistakably “Andersonian” in its structure, visuals, and dialogue, this latest work takes his world-building to a space that feels at once exciting, new, and unexpectedly sincere.
The film begins with Benicio del Toro, giving a performance as Zsa-Zsa that is both chaotic and funny. Del Toro dives headfirst into Anderson's symmetrical world, but instead of softening to match the tone, he brings a rougher, bloodier edge that adds surprising texture and contrast to the film. He is a character who is always bruised and bandaged, physically and emotionally, but never without a timely deadpan line or an extravagant gesture. It's the kind of role you can't imagine anyone else playing — and one that proves he should absolutely be a recurring presence in Anderson's future projects.
Anderson's signature style — the quick pans, flat compositions, unique color palettes — is present in full force, but seems invigorated by the story at hand. There is a sharper wit here, a more dangerous edge, and a deeper emotional core. While longtime fans will find comfort in the familiar rhythm, “The Phoenician Scheme” feels like a bridge between the old and the new.
The film also features standout performances from Mia Threapleton and Michael Cera, who has a presence that complements the eccentric universe without ever overshadowing the emotional side of the story. The dynamic between them is strange but lovable in a fun way, mixing humor with moments of vulnerability.
Above all, “The Phoenician Scheme” is a story about connection — confusing, imperfect, often hilariously derailed — but connection nonetheless. It's a film that reminds us why Wes Anderson's aesthetic isn't just a visual choice, but a narrative language. One that, when used correctly, can say something deeply human beneath the symmetrical surface of the aesthetic. And with this film, he said something beautifully strange, hauntingly funny, and utterly valid.

“Death doesn’t like it when you mess with his plans.”

I'll tell you one thing: “Final Destination: Bloodlines” is back, and it's as if the franchise has never missed a beat! After a 14-year break, I honestly wasn't sure if they could pull off the same gut-wrenching, edge-of-your-seat horror, but boy, did they!
This time, we're following Stefani (played by the fantastic Kaitlyn Santa Juana), a university student who simply can't shake these brutal, vivid nightmares. You know how it is: one weird vision and suddenly your whole life turns into chaos. Only this time, things seem different. They seem more... real.
And can we talk about how refreshing it is to see a “Final Destination” movie actually build on the franchise's legacy without looking like a copy? Stefani's relationship with her grandmother Iris (Gabrielle Rose) adds a surprisingly sincere layer to the madness. Iris has been dodging death for years, hiding in the wilderness, and that set-up alone feels much more personal and tense than I expected.
Of course, it wouldn't be “Final Destination” without some absolutely crazy death scenes - and let me tell you, they are WONDERFUL. There's a scene in the hospital that honestly rivals the iconic road disaster from “Final Destination 2”. It's gruesome, over-the-top and simply fantastic. One minute you're squirming, the next you're laughing because it's absurdly creative. That's the magic formula, right?
But here's the kicker: the movie doesn't just throw random chaos at you. It has a perverse sense of self-awareness, almost as if it knows we're here through emotion and black humor. There's a perfect balance between absolute terror and that wicked laugh you can't help but let out. Plus, seeing Tony Todd back as William Bludworth? It's chilling. The man is a legend, and his presence gives the movie a mysterious weight.
The new approach to premonitions also deserves a mention. They've managed to tweak the classic formula just enough to give it a fresh feel without losing the stressful anticipation. You can't help but analyze each scene, asking yourself: “Okay, what's about to go terribly wrong?”
Honestly, "Bloodlines" hits the nail on the head. It's gruesome, clever and ridiculous in just the right way. Fans will love it because it's like coming home - if your home was a house of horrors where death is just waiting around the corner. It's the perfect mix of nostalgia and new blood, and I couldn't be happier about the franchise's return.

“Look, I've been where you are. The past doesn't go away
So you can either live with it forever, or do something about it.”

After a streak of unstable phases and broken promises, "Thunderbolts*" comes in as the unexpected spark that reignites Marvel’s engine. Forget polished edges and flawless heroes—this time, the house is a mess, and that’s exactly what makes it interesting. Directed by Jake Schreier, a newcomer to the MCU, the franchise’s 36th film embraces moral grayness, emotional chaos, and weirdness with a confidence that felt long lost since Endgame.
The story follows a group of disorganized anti-heroes who are thrown into a government-led operation that quickly turns into something much more sinister. Tasked with navigating a maze of betrayal, psychological scars and unstable loyalties, the team - Selena Belova, Bucky Barnes, Red Guardian, Ghost, Taskmaster and John Walker - look like a dysfunctional therapy group armed to the teeth.
Florence Pugh leads the team brilliantly. Her Yelena remains one of the most compelling and emotionally grounded characters of Marvel's post-Avengers era. Sebastian Stan gives a subdued, almost melancholy performance as Bucky, a man who wears his past like a second skin. Wyatt Russell's John Walker adds a tense, uneasy touch to the team dynamic, constantly clashing with Bucky in ways that provoke genuine friction. David Harbour's Red Ranger balances the film with well-placed comic relief, while Hannah John-Kamen's Ghost brings a quiet volatility to the group. Julia Louis-Dreyfus is a mixture of opposites as Valentina, oscillating between manipulative boss and puppet master. A pleasant surprise comes in the form of Lewis Pullman as Bob, a newcomer who fits surprisingly well into this chaotic ensemble.
Schreier embraces the chaos. Instead of trying to “fix” the MCU, he reimagines it with more dirt under his fingernails. The movie is indeed funnier, but also more sincere in its messiness. It doesn't pretend to be a cosmic epic; “Thunderbolts*” just wants you to believe that these characters have something real at stake. And, somehow, you do.
Of course, it's not perfect. The script struggles under the weight of several character arcs, some more developed than others. Its approach to trauma and mental health is a little heavy-handed and, at times, overly literal. But there is a certain boldness in his willingness not to sweep his characters' pain under the carpet. Here, emotional weight isn't a problem - it's a feature.
The real success of “Thunderbolts*” lies in its tone. Unlike the empty provocations that plagued much of Phase 4, this movie seems to have a purpose. It's the kind of Marvel movie that reminds us why we've always cared: not for perfection or spectacle, but for the messy, imperfect people behind the powers. And as he prepares "Avengers: Doomsday", he does so with energy and intention - not obligation.
"Thunderbolts*" is a movie that bleeds, stumbles, laughs and explodes. It doesn't try to please everyone - and that's exactly why it works. Marvel, welcome back to the danger zone. We missed you.

Today I had the pleasure of watching "Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith" on the big screen for the second time. Revisiting this work in the cinema is like opening a portal directly to a galaxy far, far away — where every scene, every duel and every soundtrack gains an even more intense intensity. It was a powerful experience, which brought back memories and emotions of a saga that marked me and many generations. That said, I decided to leave a brief of my experience.

"Your anger and thirst for power have already done that.
You allowed this dark lord to twist your mind, until now you have become the very thing you swore to destroy."

20 years since "Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith" and somehow it feels as relevant, haunting and powerful as the day I first sat in the dark of the cinema, with my heart racing and ready for what was to come.
I exactly where I was. The theater was packed with fans of all ages—some in costume, some with toy lightsabers, all holding their breath for what we knew would be a defining moment in the saga. What I didn’t expect was how deeply it would define me. It wasn’t just the conclusion of a trilogy. It was the meeting of myth and tragedy. It brought together generations of storytellers. Revenge of the Sith didn’t just tell us what happened—it made us feel why it happened. And that’s what makes this film not just personal, but fundamental to modern science fiction. It dared to show us the fall of a hero, not just his rise. It painted politics, power, and war in strangely familiar tones. At a time when science fiction was often associated with spectacle, Revenge of the Sith brought Shakespearean gravity, emotional weight, and philosophical complexity. It looked you in the eye and asked, “What would you do? Would you see the warning signs? Would you stop this?” He gave us more than a space battle—he gave us a moral reckoning.
Visually, it was a galaxy of color, chaos, and innovation. The choreography—still unmatched. The score—sheer disappointment. George Lucas wanted a grandiose piece of music that combined the emotional weight of a hero’s downfall with the intensity of an epic duel. He asked John Williams for something that had the operatic tragedy of “The Fates” (from The Phantom Menace), but with a more personal emotion. And that’s how “The Fates” was born—one of the most chilling pieces of music in the entire saga. It’s basically a farewell poem between two brothers. And the performances? They’ve aged like fine wine. You feel the pain, the betrayal and the consequences.
For the sci-fi genre as a whole, this film expanded what a blockbuster could be. It taught future filmmakers that world-building isn’t just about cool technology or strange planets, it’s also about the emotional landscapes of your characters. The consequences of Revenge of the Sith can be felt in everything from Dune to The Expanse, and even beyond the science fiction genre.
But on a personal level, this film is important to me because it was the first time I understood the depth of storytelling possible in science fiction. It showed me that the genre is not just about escape... it is about reflection. About what it means to love, to lose, to make choices that cannot be undone.
Watching the film in the theater—surrounded by fans, immersed in that galaxy far, far away—was like watching history unfold. Not just in the Star Wars universe, but in the theater itself.
So today, on its 20th anniversary, I raise my imaginary lightsaber and say: Thank you, Revenge of the Sith. For the pain. For the beauty, and for proving that science fiction can shake the soul. You changed me. You changed the game. ❤️

“There are legends of people with the gift of making music so true. It can conjure spirits from the past and the future.”

“Sinners” is a film set in Mississippi in the 1930s, during the height of Jim Crow and Prohibition. “Sinners” opens with a striking, almost mythical image that immediately sets the tone for the story’s mix of spirituality, rebellion and ancestral mourning. From there, Coogler jumps back in time to introduce us to Samuel, a young musician who returns to his roots and reunites with his cousins ​​— the infamous Smokestack Twins, Smoke and Stack (both brought to life with dual bravado by Michael B. Jordan). The two are in the midst of transforming an old sawmill into something radical for its time: a music venue, a rare sanctuary where music, community and liberation can thrive despite the oppressive world around them.
The film quickly plunges us into a world of bootleggers, backroom deals, sensual temptations, and transcendent blues. Samuel, the quiet son of a preacher, becomes our gateway into this storm of flesh, fire, and freedom. Coogler’s pacing in the first half is incredible—it’s his most patient work yet. He lingers on the characters, their community, and the land itself. It’s not just about building the story—it’s about respecting the roots, the culture, and the struggle. And though the film begins as a naturalistic period piece, there’s always something lurking in the background. An early warning about music being a magical force—one that can heal or summon darkness—hint at what’s to come. The blues isn’t just emotional—it’s spiritual, alchemical. This thematic thread is woven into every frame, every boot stomp, every guitar string slide.
When the film’s tonal shift arrives, it does so with Coogler’s signature touch. What begins as a realistic tale slowly slides into something much more supernatural—and much more daring. Citing The Thing and Salem’s Lot as inspiration, Coogler brings the bar to life—literally—with vampires, time-traveling musical rituals, and mind-bending choreography. A single-take sequence in IMAX captures this transition: the camera dances around the bar as blues and blood merge in a sequence that defies logic, time, and genre. The arrival of Remmick, played by Jack O’Connell — a vampire whose introduction is like an electric shock — opens the film’s second act with heavy guitars, bloody explosions and a wild, seductive energy.
But “Sinners” never loses its political edge. It’s not just a horror story or a musical delirium. It’s a layered allegory about cultural theft, displacement and desire. The vampires, at once terrifying and seductive, are metaphors for a parasitic relationship — how black music, bodies and joy have been devoured by white systems that fear their source but crave their sound. As Delta Slim (a scene-stealing Delroy Lindo) puts it, "White people like the blues a lot, they just don’t like the people who make it". This duality pulsates through every scene. The safety and joy of the juke t — its rhythm, its sweat, its freedom — are built precisely to be threatened. The sense of community that Coogler builds in the first hour is essential, because when everything starts to fall apart, we feel it. The horror comes not just from the vampires, but from the sense that not even magic, music, and love are enough to keep the world out.
For all its weight, “Sinners” manages to pull you in as a whole. Ludwig Göransson’s score represents some of the most daring and personal work of his career (that I’ve been a fan of for years). A frequent collaborator of Ryan Coogler since “Fruitvale Station,” Göransson not only composed the music, but also served as an executive producer on the film. His approach goes beyond the traditional compositional approach of a producer, delving deep into the blues roots of the Mississippi Delta. The score evolves from sparse acoustic sounds to chaotic orchestration and elements of—blues, gospel, metal—mirroring the film’s evolving themes. To capture the authentic sound of the period portrayed, Göransson and his father, a Swedish guitarist with a ion for American blues, accompanied Coogler on a journey along the “Blues Trail.” Along the way, they visited iconic locations like B.B. King’s hometown and played onstage at his club in Indianola, Mississippi. This immersion allowed Göransson to absorb the essence of the blues and incorporate it into the film's soundtrack.
If "Sinners" has a flaw, it's that it tries too hard to control things. Its final act rushes to resolve a myth too big for a single story. But even that restlessness feels honest — Coogler isn't just making a movie; he's exorcising ghosts. And even as the credits roll, the story seems to continue. The blood may dry, but the sadness never stops.
This isn't just Coogler's return to original storytelling — it's his boldest and most personal work yet. A film with grit, rhythm and a great vibe.

"I mean, I'm only 13.
I don't think I look that scary."

Few shows have the power to leave viewers completely speechless, but “Adolescence” does just that. This isn’t just a well-crafted drama—it’s an unfiltered, deeply human experience that feels less like a show and more like life itself unfolding before your eyes. There are no discernible performances, no moments where the illusion is shattered. Instead, every hesitation, every glance, every silence carries a weighty weight, immersing you so completely that you forget you’re watching something scripted.
One of the most impressive aspects of “Adolescence” is its cinematography. Each episode is shot as one continuous, uninterrupted take—no visible cuts, no breaks in time. The technical precision required to pull off this approach is astonishing, but even more impressive is the emotional impact it creates. The camera becomes more than just a tool; it’s a silent participant, pulling you into moments of quiet devastation, tension, and fleeting joy. Every scene is beautifully staged, but nothing feels artificial. The result is a raw, almost frightening authenticity.
A standout moment comes in the final episode. Without relying on theatrics, the scene that unfolds throughout the episode builds tension and emotion in a way that completely takes the viewer by surprise. It’s a perfect stroke of brilliance on the part of the show: it doesn’t force the drama, nor does it manipulate with excessive sentimentality. Instead, it allows the smallest moments of everyday life to carry a depth of meaning.
“Adolescence” is not your average drama. It doesn’t hand out easy resolutions. It demands patience, rewards attention, and—most importantly—respects its audience. If you’re looking for clear narratives and traditional storytelling structures, this series may frustrate you. But if you’re willing to embrace the complexity and sit with the discomfort of real human emotion, you’ll find yourself deeply moved.
Hours after watching, I’m still processing it. And perhaps that’s the truest mark of its success—that “Adolescence” isn’t just something you watch. It’s something you live, something that lingers, something that, in its own way, changes you. The young Owen Cooper, he should get a Bafta, what talent!!

"We must go beyond the ions, like a great work of art. In such miraculous harmony.
We must love one another outside of time... apart."

"La Dolce Vita" is nothing short of a cinematic beauty, a film that distills an entire era—its glamour, decadence, and contradictions—into one mesmerizing spectacle. With his bold imagery and stunning direction, Fellini creates a visual beauty that not only reflects the feverish pulse of post-war Italy, but captures the universal malaise of a society caught between tradition and modernity.
At its center is Marcello Rubini, a man who constantly seeks the "doce vita"—an immediate and fleeting pleasure—but feels an existential void, unable to truly connect with the people around him. Throughout the film, we see Marcello flirting with various women, trying to find meaning in a life of glamour and fun, but at the same time, he seems to be increasingly estranged from true happiness or emotional fulfillment. Marcello is complex and melancholic, portraying an internal conflict between his desires for success and pleasure and the growing realization that these pursuits are not enough to fill the void in his soul. He represents the struggle between the pursuit of superficial pleasure and the absence of a deeper purpose.
Fellini’s Rome is both a playground and a purgatory, its decadence brought to life through stunning cinematography. From its iconic opening scene to its haunting final moments, the film unfolds in a series of vignettes, each more striking than the last. These moments—surreal yet deeply human—serve as both spectacle and critique, exposing the fragile façade of the “dolce vita.” The film’s episodic structure, bold for its time, reflects the fragmentation of a society in flux. Fellini captures this transition with keen eye, blending the glamour of high society with its emptiness. Yet for all its cynicism, “La Dolce Vita” is not entirely despairing. There are moments of tenderness and beauty, glimpses of a moral com in a world spinning out of control.
More than six decades later, the film’s once-scandalous elements — its orgiastic parties and provocative imagery — seem almost imaginative. What is evident is its haunting portrait of existential ennui, a reminder that the pursuit of purposeless pleasure often leads to emptiness. In a world where celebrity culture and moral ambiguity are more pervasive than ever, “La Dolce Vita” remains as relevant as ever.

“You’re afraid…that’s what makes you human.”

Bong Joon-ho has once again created a film that is as thought-provoking as it is intriguing with “Mickey 17”. This time, he approaches science fiction in a way that only he can — blending sarcastic social commentary, dark humor, and thrilling spectacle into a story that is equally absurd.
“Mickey 17” stars Robert Pattinson, playing the titular character(s) with an impressive range that showcases his ability to balance vulnerability, determination, and weariness. As Mickey navigates this existential crisis, the film features a rich ing cast, including Mark Ruffalo as Kenneth Marshall, a failed politician turned mission leader whose ignorance and incompetence are as dangerous as they are comical. Ruffalo fully embraces the role, creating a villain who is both comical and terrifying in his selfishness.
The film is filled with moments of macabre humor that undercut its darker themes, making the existential horrors of Mickey’s situation feel oddly relatable. His direction allows for a seamless blend of action, philosophy, and absurdity, making every death (and non-death) feel meaningful rather than gratuitous. The film’s visuals are equally compelling, presenting a futuristic world that is both elegant and grimy.
Thematically, “Mickey 17” doesn’t shy away from its message. Like Parasite and Snowpiercer before it, this is a film that wears its anti-capitalist, anti-populist critique on its sleeve. There’s no subtlety here, nor is there any need for it. Mickey’s existence is a metaphor for the exploitation of labor, and his journey to reclaim his agency is a powerful rallying cry against systemic oppression. The film doesn’t just ask what it means to be human—it demands that we question who benefits from defining that humanity in the first place.
In my view, “Mickey 17” is a bold, moving, and deeply relevant sci-fi film that cements Bong Joon-ho’s status as one of the most innovative filmmakers of our time. It’s a film that will inspire debate, stir emotions and, most importantly, remind audiences of the power of resistance. Whether you leave the theater euphoric or enraged, one thing is certain: “Mickey 17” is impossible to ignore.

"Two hundred people in that room and each one wants me to be somebody else.
They should just fuck off and let me be."

Bob Dylan’s music has been a constant in my life, shaping the way I understand storytelling, poetry and rebellion from an early age. So watching “A Complete Unknown” felt like stepping into the heart of his early years, watching the footsteps of a genius in the making. James Mangold doesn’t just deliver a standard music biopic — he creates an experience that immerses us in the world that shaped Dylan, from the smoky coffeehouses of Greenwich Village to the charged atmosphere of the Newport Folk Festival. Unlike your average music biopic, this one doesn’t just recount milestones; it brings to life the era that forged Dylan’s voice. The smoky coffeehouses, the apartments packed with idealistic folk singers, the tension between tradition and innovation — every frame resonates with the pulse of the 1960s. Timothée Chalamet doesn’t just play Bob Dylan; he becomes him, embodying the restless spirit, quiet rebellion and magnetic charm that made Dylan both a folk messiah and an eventual renegade. Music isn’t just a backdrop here—it’s a character in its own right. The film seamlessly weaves Dylan’s compositions into the narrative, allowing us to witness their genesis rather than just hear them. Watching Dylan find his voice—breaking free from covers, navigating relationships with Sylvie Russo and Joan Baez, and ultimately choosing the electric path despite resistance—is as moving as it is deeply personal. The anticipation-laden Newport Folk Festival sequence is a masterstroke of tension and artistry.
Watching this film, I was reminded of why his music has been a constant companion in my life—why his lyrics still resonate with me, decades after they were first sung. Dylan taught me that art is about transformation, about never standing still, about daring to be a complete stranger and still moving forward. His music has been my guide, my teacher, my reminder that words can change the world. This film doesn’t just tell his story—it reaffirms why he will always be one of the greatest influences in my life. For me, it reaffirms why his words and melodies have echoed through my life, shaping my understanding of storytelling, rebellion, and reinvention. This film doesn’t just portray Dylan’s journey—it makes you feel it. And that, in itself, is its greatest triumph.

“None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe themselves free.”

“The Brutalist” is a cinematic triumph that demands your full attention—and your emotional resilience. With a staggering three-and-a-half-hour running time (which is NEVER a problem for me), Corbet creates a harrowing, visually stunning, and thought-provoking exploration of postwar America through the eyes of Lászlo Tóth, a Hungarian architect and Holocaust survivor played with startling intensity by Adrien Brody. From the moment Lászlo arrives in New York City in 1947, the film immerses viewers in his struggle for survival and recognition. Corbet’s direction creates a constant sense of unease as Lászlo navigates a society that embraces him with one hand and crushes him with the other. His journey is marked by his complex relationships—his reunion with his ex-wife Erzsébet (a terrific performance by Felicity Jones), his friendship-turned-betrayal with fellow immigrant Attila (Alessandro Nivola), and his oppressive patronage under the wealthy and manipulative Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce, at his most icily charismatic).
But it’s not just an immigrant’s story. “The Brutalist” is a scathing critique of America’s postwar identity—a nation that prides itself on being a beacon of freedom but remains trapped in hypocrisy and exclusion. Corbet’s portrait of the social elite, personified by Van Buren, exposes their self-serving moral rectitude and conditional acceptance of immigrants. Their superficial turns cruel the moment their egos or interests are threatened.
This layered narrative recalls Paul Thomas Anderson’s “The Master,” with its exploration of broken individuals struggling for power and belonging in postwar America. Yet Corbet’s vision is uniquely his own—a relentless, unflinching examination of assimilation, exploitation, and the toll of Americanization.
Stylistically, “The Brutalist” is nothing short of audacious. Corbet’s camerawork oscillates between intimate close-ups and landscapes that seem to suffocate rather than liberate. The cinematography captures both the physical harshness of postwar America and the moral decay beneath its polished surface. There are moments of dizzying movement that heighten the claustrophobia, interspersed with a stillness that allows the weight of the characters’ struggles to settle in.
Music plays a pivotal role, with a score that reflects the film’s brutalist aesthetic—raw, stripped-back, and often unnervingly sharp. Every note underscores Lászlo’s humiliations, setbacks, and dashed hopes, echoing the emotional weight of his American dream turned nightmare.
In the film’s devastating final act, Lászlo and Erzsébet’s disillusionment is absolute. Corbet doesn’t just tell us that America is a land of contradictions; he forces us to feel it. Erzsébet’s haunting declaration that “this country is rotten” lingers like a ghost in the film’s final moments.
“The Brutalist” is not an easy film to watch, nor should it be. It is a raw, immersive, and unforgettable experience — a brutal confrontation with history, humanity, and the price of survival.

Today marks 40 years since "The Breakfast Club" hit theaters, and the fact that we're still talking about it proves one thing: this movie is legendary. "The Breakfast Club" didn't just define a decade. It became a touchstone for anyone who's ever felt lost, misunderstood, or stuck in a box. That said, I decided to rewatch it to write a review for you guys.

"We're all just weird. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all."

The plot seems simple: five high school students with nothing in common are sentenced to spend Saturday in detention together. You've got The Brain (Anthony Michael Hall), The Athlete (Emilio Estevez), The Basket Case (Ally Sheedy), The Princess (Molly Ringwald), and The Criminal (Judd Nelson). They're high school stereotypes brought to life, each with their own personal armor, ready to endure (or not) the longest day ever. But what unfolds over the next few hours is about so much more than detention. It’s a profound exploration of identity, vulnerability, and breaking down walls.
When we first meet the characters, they couldn’t seem more different. Each of them sits in their own corners, protected by their respective labels. But John Hughes takes us beyond those labels. Through sharp dialogue and deeply personal moments, we watch the layers of the students peel back. Secrets are shared. Emotions bubble to the surface. And suddenly, the distance between them begins to close.
The beauty of “The Breakfast Club” is its honesty. It acknowledges the pressures that teenagers face, whether it’s parental expectations, peer pressure, or the suffocating need to fit in. It shows how loneliness can hide behind popularity, how intelligence can mask insecurity, and how rebellion can be a cry for help. By the end, you can’t help but see yourself in each of them.
Over the decades, “The Breakfast Club” has inspired countless coming-of-age films, TV shows, and even parodies. Yet few have captured the same magic. The film’s ability to make us laugh, cry, and reflect on our own teenage years is what keeps it so beloved. It’s not just a story about high school; it’s a story about breaking free from the roles we feel we have to play.
So today, as we celebrate 40 years of The Breakfast Club, let’s take a moment to appreciate what this film gave us. It showed us the importance of empathy, of looking beyond the surface, and of finding connection in unexpected places. This film reminds us that no one fits neatly into a box — we are all a little bit of everything.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! ❤️
On this special day that celebrates love, let’s take a moment to reflect on how love shapes our lives in ways we can’t always predict. With that said, I decided to write about the movie “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” which is the perfect movie to dive into today — a beautiful exploration of the complexity of love, its ups and downs, and how our memories, even the painful ones, define us. So as we celebrate today, I’ll leave you with this review of this movie and (this playlist for you) to listen to on this day (even if you’re alone) to keep you company and warm your heart.

"Today is a holiday invented by greeting card companies to make people feel like crap."

The film follows Joel and Clementine, two characters who, in a desperate attempt to erase each other from their lives, find themselves trapped in a maze of their shared memories. This setup, while unconventional, beautifully reflects the emotional complexities of relationships. Love isn’t just about the good times; it’s about the complexities, the messiness, and even the pain that make us who we are. Gondry’s direction creates a dreamlike atmosphere where memory becomes fluid—shifting and transforming as the characters navigate their experiences, blurring the lines between reality and emotion.
One of the film’s most notable qualities is its depiction of love as both a joyful and heartbreaking experience. Joel and Clementine’s love story unfolds in fragments, like a jigsaw puzzle that only makes sense when the pieces fit together. Their connection isn’t perfect—it’s messy, flawed, and at times, seemingly impossible—but that’s what makes it real. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" reminds us that love, in all its forms, isn’t simple or easy, but it’s worth holding on to, even when the past seems better forgotten. Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet, in perhaps their most transformative performances, bring these characters to life with raw vulnerability. Carrey, usually known for his comedic roles, delivers a deeply emotional and introspective portrayal of Joel, capturing the quiet sadness of a man lost in his own memories. Winslet’s Clementine, on the other hand, is a whirlwind of color and impulsiveness, a character who feels larger than life and achingly human. Together, they form an immersive and unforgettable bond that encapsulates the bittersweet beauty of love—how it builds us up and, at times, destroys us.
The film’s unique structure and surreal visuals push the boundaries of storytelling. Every frame feels intentional, every scene brimming with meaning. It’s a film that forces you to reflect on your own memories, your own loves and losses. It asks, “What would you erase if you could?” And, perhaps more importantly, “What would you keep?”
In the end, "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" is a love letter to the imperfection of human connection. On this Valentine’s Day, it reminds us that love is never clean or easy—but it’s always worth experiencing, even when it leaves a mark. Love, with all its complexities and contradictions, is what makes us whole.

"Most of the time it's like... I don't know. It's like there's this thick black cloud covering everything
Like we see the world, but we don't really see the world, you know.
We're all just stumbling around directionless. No sense of meaning, no sense of purpose."

Drew Hancock makes an impressive debut with "Companion", a genre-bending horror comedy that proves that the filmmaking team behind “Barbarian” still has plenty of tricks up their sleeves. Blending sci-fi, thriller and horror with a sharp comedic twist, “Companion” is best experienced with as little knowledge as possible. The story follows Iris (Sophie Thatcher) and her group of friends, whose weekend retreat turns into chaos. What unfolds is a twisted and unexpectedly emotional journey that delivers plenty of laughs, disturbing suspense and sharp social commentary.
“Companion” offers “a different kind of love story,” but not in the way audiences might expect. The film cleverly explores horror’s ongoing fascination with AI and technology — following in the footsteps of “M3GAN,” “Child’s Play” (2019) and “Subservience” — but manages to carve out its own identity. The technological elements feel grounded and seamlessly integrated, from self-driving cars to AI voice assistants. While some aspects require suspension of disbelief, the way “Companion” explores the human relationship with technology makes it both frighteningly believable and thematically rich. The film reinforces a crucial message: it’s not technology we should fear, but the people who use it.
Sophie Thatcher continues to prove herself as one of the most exciting talents in modern horror. Fresh off of “Heretic,” “MaXXXine” and “The Boogeyman,” her performance in “Companion” may be her most challenging yet — and she shines. She navigates a complex role with ease, seamlessly shifting between emotions and personalities, making every moment engaging. Jack Quaid matches her with a dynamic performance that constantly evolves, effortlessly balancing charm and menace. Their chemistry is electric, raising the emotional stakes of the film. The ing cast, including Lukas Gage, Rupert Friend, Megan Suri and Harvey Guillén, all give strong performances, with Guillén particularly standing out for her comedic timing.
Hancock’s script is sharp, balancing horror, humor, and social commentary with subtlety. The film never takes itself too seriously, embracing its over-the-top premise with well-timed laughs while still delivering thrilling sequences. The horror elements, while effective, lean more into thriller territory, leaving room for even more scares. However, when the violence does occur, it hits with impact, delivering intricate, well-crafted sequences that horror fans will appreciate. Cleverly paced reveals keep the audience engaged, ensuring that even those who feared the trailer would spoil too much will be pleasantly surprised.
January often serves as a cinematic dumping ground, especially for horror, but “Companion” bucks the trend. It’s fresh, fun, and inventive, offering a unique take on familiar themes. While it could have leaned more heavily into the horror elements, its balance of romance, violence, and comedy makes it an undeniable crowd-pleaser. Packed with standout performances, clever writing, and a thought-provoking message, "Companion" cements itself as one of the most entertaining genre films of the year. Watch it with friends — this one was made to be experienced together.

Today it won't be a movie review as usual… but it will be a small tribute from me to the genius David Lynch!

David Lynch was a visionary, an artist whose mind transcended the conventional, transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary with his unparalleled creativity. Today, as we bid farewell to this remarkable soul, we not just the films and the surreal worlds he created, but the profound legacy of inspiration he left behind. His work was never simply entertainment—it was a journey into the unknown, an invitation to explore the deeper layers of consciousness, dream, and fear.
Lynch once said, "The ideas are like fish. If you want to catch little fish, you can stay in the shallow water. But if you want to catch the big fish, you’ve got to go deeper." Through his films, his art, and his words, David Lynch taught us to embrace that depth. He taught us that the beauty of creation lies in the willingness to dive into the darkness, to seek truth where it is least expected. Whether through Eraserhead, The Elephant Man, Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, Mulholland Drive or his surreal landscapes, Lynch showed us that art is not just about what is visible on the surface—it is about feeling, experiencing, and understanding the complexities of life itself.
His belief in the power of the imagination was unwavering. "I like to think of things that are disturbing, yet beautiful," he once shared. This duality, the contrast between beauty and horror, was not a flaw, but the essence of his genius. In his work, darkness coexisted with light, and the two were never separate but parts of a greater whole. This tension, this interplay, was the foundation of his artistic expression.
David Lynch showed us the importance of staying true to one’s vision, no matter how unconventional it may seem. "The world is full of a lot of fear and a lot of love," he said, and through his work, we saw how both emotions coiled together, weaving complex and unforgettable stories. His creations became a mirror for our own fears and desires, helping us confront and understand the labyrinths of our own minds.
On a personal note, Lynch’s art was a beacon for me—a guide to explore the realms of my own creativity. His work inspired me to trust in the unknown, to believe that beauty could be found in the strangest places, and that art could be as much about the questions it provoked as the answers it gave. He made me believe in the transformative power of imagination and the necessity of diving into the strange, the surreal, and the mysterious.
David Lynch, you have left this world, but your influence will resonate forever. The echoes of your art, your words, and your belief in the importance of staying true to one's artistic vision will continue to inspire countless souls, including mine.
Thank you for showing us the way—through the darkness, into the light. 
🖤🥀

“I think I have power over you ’cause I could make one call and you lose everything.
Does that turn you on when I say that?”

“Babygirl” is a film that explores the complexities of desire, power, sex and consent, placing these themes in an intriguing but ultimately inconclusive narrative. What stands out about this work is the way it addresses intimate and often uncomfortable issues with a combination of grace and humor, something rarely seen in mainstream cinema. The film's proposal is to provoke reflections on female sexuality, an area often neglected in more prominent productions.
For decades, big-budget films have focused on men's sex lives, with an emphasis on fantasies, loneliness and unfulfilled desires. But when it comes to female desires, options are scarce, and “Babygirl” is a relief in this regard. After all, what was the last major release that dealt with the sexuality and desire of a woman, especially an older woman, with the same freedom that cinema offers to male characters? The example of Eyes Wide Shut (1999), which still spoke about the man's point of view in relation to female desire, seems already distant.
The film opens boldly with Nicole Kidman playing a powerful married woman content with her husband (Antonio Banderas). The tone for the rest of the film is a straightforward, unglamorous approach to sexuality. The pursuit of pleasure and the deconstruction of social expectations regarding female sexual behavior are central themes, and "Babygirl" treats them with surprising sincerity.
Kidman soon encounters a young man (Harris Dickinson) on the street who, with an almost supernatural ability, manages to calm an out-of-control dog. What begins as a spontaneous attraction develops into a complex power dynamic, in which the lines between who is hunting and who is being hunted are never clear. The relationship between the two, charged with sexual tension, is the highlight of the film, and the chemistry between Kidman and Dickinson, while intriguing, is ambiguous and disconcerting. Kidman is impeccable in her portrayal of a powerful woman who, at the same time, wants to be dominated, generating an internal conflict between desire and self-criticism. On the other hand, the young Dickinson, although charismatic, is not completely convincing as the object of desire. His performance and presence may not be enough to match the intensity of what the film proposes. This may be, in a way, intentional, as a way of suggesting that, for Kidman's character, even a modest provocation can trigger an explosion of repressed desire. The sexual tension is not only in the physical appearance, but also in the power dynamics that are built between the two.
What makes “Babygirl” so fascinating is that, while it tackles themes of desire and power with a boldness rarely seen in mainstream cinema, it also reminds us of the importance of communication in intimate relationships. The film proves that oftentimes, an honest conversation about desires and dissatisfactions can be enough to transform the dynamic between partners, without the need for excessive drama or conflict. In the end, it conveys the message that when we truly listen to each other, we can find a path to mutual satisfaction.

"This creature is a force more powerful than evil.
Its desire is to consume all life on Earth."

"Nosferatu" is a stunning homage to the 1922 German Expressionist classic. This film is not just a remake, as many people are assuming, this film is a bold and achingly beautiful reimagining that honors F.W. Murnau's legacy while renewing it with a deeply feminist contemporary perspective.
Set in the oppressive atmosphere of the 1830s, the film follows Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), a real estate agent who travels to the Carpathian Mountains to meet the enigmatic Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård), a terrifying being who dissolves into shadows and dominates every scene with his menacing presence. At the same time, the narrative focuses on Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp), Thomas' young wife, who remains at home under the care of her friends. But Ellen is not simply waiting. Her journey is a complex and devastating study of desire, repression, and the price of autonomy in a world that insists on controlling it.
Robert Eggers constructed the film as a dance between light and darkness, where horror and romantic tragedy collide in an impeccable visual spectacle. The feminist perspective on the story emerges strongly through Ellen, who is not only a victim, but a protagonist constantly struggling against the limits of her condition and society.
Eggers uses vampirism as a metaphor to explore the feminine and the narratives that surround it. The film rescues and transforms the symbolism of vampires, highlighting their historical connection to repressed female sexuality and the taboos surrounding desire. At the same time, "Nosferatu" addresses how women are often conditioned to accept degraded forms of love and to deny themselves the fulfillment they believe they do not deserve.
Visually, the film is a masterpiece. Eggers captures the essence of German Expressionism while incorporating its dark aesthetic. Each scene is steeped in a nightmarish atmosphere, where shadows and lights set the stage for a story that is both a horror tale and a tragedy.
The ending is as devastating as it is sublime, a perfect perfection of romantic tragedy and pure terror. Robert Eggers delivers one of the most impressive films of his career and one of the best portraits of women in recent cinema. “Nosferatu” is not only worthy of its predecessor; it sures it, establishing itself as a timeless masterpiece of contemporary cinema.

🎅🏼🎁On this December 25th, as we celebrate the spirit of Christmas, a film like “The Holdovers” always comes as the perfect cinematic gift to warm the heart. “The Holdovers” is so much more than just a Christmas movie. It’s actually a film about what it means to find connection amidst isolation and how family can take unexpected forms, especially when the world feels distant or broken. With that said, I decided to leave here my review of the film that has been one of my favorite Christmas movies since it was released.🎁🎅🏼
MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! ❤️

“You're just beginning. And you're smart. You've got time to turn things around.
Yes, I know that Greeks had the idea that the steps you take to avoid your fate are the very steps that lead you to it, but that's just a literary conceit.
In real life, your history does not have to dictate your destiny.”

Set in an isolated prep school during the winter of 1970, the film touches on Christmas traditions in a subtle way, but instead of following the usual path of shiny perfection and festive celebrations, it deals with the quieter, more reflective side of the holiday. There’s a growing sense of hope that builds slowly, with each interaction and each moment of vulnerability. If Christmas is a time of new beginnings, “The Holdovers” is a reminder that sometimes the true magic of Christmas comes not from what we are given, but from what we choose to create with those around us — be they friends, family, or even strangers. As snow covers the campus, what begins as a portrait of loneliness and abandonment slowly transforms into a story of redemption, friendship, and, yes, resilience. The unconventional nature of a Christmas spent away from traditional family gatherings gives the film a bittersweet and unexpected tone that resonates deeply with the heart.
Paul Giamatti, in his role as the acerbic history professor, is the shining star of the film. With his piercing gaze and sharp sarcasm, he not only captures the essence of the character brilliantly, but also infuses him with a subtle vulnerability beneath his hard exterior. Giamatti is a master at making the audience empathize with his character’s imperfections, and he does so with such finesse here.
While the film does have moments of laugh-out-loud comedy, it is not a comedy in the conventional sense. The humor in “The Holdovers” is lighthearted, but always laced with emotional depth. The film makes you laugh while also provoking reflection on what Christmas means when we are not surrounded by the usual trappings of the holiday. There is something truly authentic about watching characters who, in other contexts, might be seen as stereotypes, but here become fully realized, with all their flaws and humanity exposed.
Set to a nostalgic 1970s soundtrack that includes everything from classic rock to soft ballads, the music extends the film’s central theme—the search for meaning during difficult times and the healing that often comes from unexpected sources. The combination of these tracks and the film’s cinematography creates an atmosphere that feels intimate and expansive, transporting the audience to an era that seems distant but still resonates with emotions that are deeply relevant today.
“The Holdovers” is a film that manages to be funny, heartbreaking, and thought-provoking all at once. It reminds us that even in the most lonely or unconventional moments, the spirit of Christmas can show up in unexpected ways, whether it’s a quiet conversation at the dinner table, a subtle smile or a gesture of empathy. If you’re looking for a Christmas movie that breaks through the typical formulas and offers a smile laced with reflection, “The Holdovers” is definitely a must-see.
This is the kind of movie that teaches us that sometimes the best gifts aren’t wrapped in paper or ribbons, but are the opportunities to discover something new in our own hearts.

"It's that thing when you're with someone, and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it... but it's a party... and you're both talking to other people, and you're laughing and glowing... and you look across the room and meet each other's eyes... but - but not because you're possessive, or it's precisely sexual... but because... this is your person in this life. And it's funny and sad, but only because this life is going to end, and it's this secret world that exists out there in the open, unnoticed, that no one else knows about. It's like they're saying that other dimensions exist all around us, but we don't have the capacity to perceive them. That's - That's what I want from a relationship. Or just from life, I guess."

If you're looking for a film that captures the uncertainties of adulthood, the antics of true friendship, and at the same time makes you fall even more in love with New York, then "s Ha" is exactly what you need. With a refreshing and captivating approach, this film by Noah Baumbach will make you laugh, think and even feel a certain relief when you see that sometimes “making it work” can be a lot less romantic than we imagine. The protagonist is s Halladay, a young dancer from New York, played by the charming Greta Gerwig, who, in addition to being incredible in the role, co-wrote the script. s is the kind of woman who never has much money, but lives her life with joy and energy, as if difficulties were just another obstacle to be overcome with a laugh and an awkward dance in the middle of the street. And it is this fresh and light feeling that the film conveys: the feeling that, even when everything seems out of place, you can still dance — or at least try. The story unfolds with an almost documentary rhythm, full of everyday moments that could be insignificant, but that, in s’s context, become significant and, at times, deeply emotional. The situations are filled with a simplicity that makes everything seem more real, with the plot delicately interweaving the challenge of growing up and finding oneself amidst the chaos of modern life. But make no mistake: the film is anything but dark. It’s like a walk on a fall day in New York City—nothing over the top, but there’s something magical in the air.
s’ relationship with her friend Sophie (Mickey Sumner) is one of the central pieces of the narrative. They’re the kind of friends who know each other so well that they know each other’s deepest desires and frustrations, but like all friendships, time and change cause their bond to evolve in unexpected ways. It’s heartwarming to see how the film treats friendship with a sincerity that’s both comforting and realistic, without falling into the trap of over-the-top drama.
Visually, the film shines. The black and white photography is a choice that makes perfect sense, giving the film a timeless feel, as if s' story could have taken place in any decade, but with the lightness of something current and, at the same time, universal. New York City, which is already a protagonist in its own right, appears here with a unique energy: a place where dreams can be made and undone in the blink of an eye, but where there is always room for those who dare to dance to their own rhythm.
The soundtrack is fantastic. With songs ranging from David Bowie to Paul McCartney, the sound is a perfect complement to the scenes, giving the story a touch of nostalgia and also a hint of freedom. It's as if, with each chord, you are invited to accompany s on her unique journey full of possibilities.
"s Ha" does not try to be an epic tale of great achievements or tragedies; instead, it is about the small moments of transition, the ups and downs of adulthood, the friendships that define us and the choices we make even when we don't know exactly where we are going. It's a celebration of imperfection and the beauty found in our constant attempt to discover ourselves.
So if you're looking for a film that will make you smile, reflect, and give you that little push to continue your own dance through life, "s Ha" is the answer. And who knows, by the end of it, you might find yourself dancing in the street, without fear of looking weird, because deep down, that's what really matters.

"Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand-in-hand with doubt.
If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery. And therefore no need for faith."

In an era when faith often seems overshadowed by sensationalism, “Conclave” offers a refreshing and thoughtful meditation on power, belief, and the human soul. This film is a modern religious thriller that weaves together elements of political intrigue, religious discourse, and intellectual rigor. With Ralph Fiennes anchoring the story as Cardinal Lawrence, the film explores profound questions: Can we truly have faith without doubt? Does absolute certainty stifle our ability to appreciate the complexity of the world around us?
The plot revolves around Cardinal Lawrence, played by Ralph Fiennes, who is tasked with coordinating the election. Against a backdrop of intense pressure and responsibility, he must navigate not only the complex political relationships among the cardinals, but also his own beliefs and doubts, which become central to the unfolding of the story. The film’s strength lies in its nuanced depiction of the electoral process. It is a film that is not simply a story about the papal election; it is, above all, a study of how power and religion intertwine, often in contradictory ways. Each cardinal has his own motivations and secrets, and “Conclave” explores these dynamics in a subtle but powerful way. The way the film builds these internal tensions is one of its greatest strengths. Yet it doesn’t shy away from the darker undertones of such a powerful institution, where personal ambitions, political maneuverings and hidden secrets are as integral as the sacred rituals themselves.
The candidates vying for the papacy are convincingly drawn. Stanley Tucci as Cardinal Bellini, for example, portrays a man who claims not to be interested in the position while subtly maneuvering to obtain it. John Lithgow underplays his role as the Canadian hopeful, Cardinal Tremblay, with a quiet wisdom that belies his own quiet ambition. Sergio Castellitto brings a commanding presence to Cardinal Tedesco, the Venetian who is as calculating as he is charismatic. And Lucian Msamati excels as the conservative favorite, Cardinal Adeyemi, a Nigerian whose ideological fervor clashes with the global complexities of the Church.
As for the pacing of the film, I find it well-paced, never rushing its characters or plot, allowing each moment to breathe and unfold. The decision-making process within the conclave is treated with the seriousness and reverence it deserves, but it is also shown to be rife with human failings. The film constantly asks: What is the price of power? What compromises must we make to maintain control? And at what point does the search for the “right” pope become a game of self-interest?
Conclave is not a film for those seeking instant gratification or easy answers. It is a film that rewards patience and reflection, offering a deep and contemplative look at faith, power, and the messy human nature that underpins them all. Edward Berger’s direction and Peter Straughan’s screenplay create a thoughtful and nuanced narrative that stands apart from the typical thriller.
For those willing to engage with its layers, “Conclave” is a tonic for the mind — a film that demands you think, reflect and question. It’s a reminder that serious, intelligent cinema can still be thoroughly entertaining, and that a film can provoke thought while also delivering a satisfying and unexpected conclusion.

"Sometimes you have to pretend to be strong, even when you’re breaking inside."

“Anora” begins as a fiery dream, full of eroticism and extravagance. With his trademark saturated colors and grainy textures, Baker builds a fantasy bubble where the glitter of luxury and the heat of emotion seem incredible. However, like all dreams, this illusion is fragile, and reality begins to leak through the cracks.
Sean Baker, known for his keen eye for stories that blend glamour and rawness, delivers in “Anora” a visually stunning and emotionally devastating experience. In this film, the director transforms the American dream into a jewel that shines and cuts at the same time.
At the center of the narrative is Ani, a young woman who lights up the screen with her presence and magnetic beauty. Played with intensity and charisma by Mikey Madison, Ani is a woman shaped by circumstances, but who maintains a fierce desire for something more. Mikey Madison manages to bring to life the character full of intensity and ambition, thus delivering a delicate and electrifying performance at the same time.
Baker uses his signature style of saturated colors and grainy textures to create an atmosphere that is simultaneously euphoric and melancholic. Scenes of wealth and excess are wrapped in a rainbow palette, while moments of conflict are illuminated by a cold, somber light. The film explores profound and universal themes: to what extent are we shaped by the desire for something that seems unattainable? What happens when the dream turns into a nightmare? And most importantly, how do we find the strength to carry on when all that shines turns to ash?
With “Anora,” Baker delivers more than a film; he delivers a stunning experience that envelops the viewer in layers of emotion and visual beauty. It is a tale of shattered illusions, but also of the determination of a woman who refuses to be defined by her circumstances. The film’s strength lies in its ability to be many things at once: a social drama, an absurdist comedy, and an intimate tragedy. It’s an “anti-fairy tale” that dismantles the illusion of romantic rescues, addressing with brutal honesty the reality of those living on the margins.
Baker also leaves room for multiple interpretations: Is Anora a critique of the abuse of power? A reflection on the loss of innocence? Or a tale of outsiders doing their best to survive in a cruel world? Prepare to be surprised and devastated.
“Anora” is not just a story; it’s a mirror that confronts us with our own hopes, fears, and limits.

"When I'm working in the factory... and the machines, they make these... rhythms...
And I just start dreaming, and it all becomes music."

There are films that move us, others that transform us. And then there is "Dancer in the Dark", a work that es through us like an avalanche of feelings, shatters us and, at the same time, teaches us to find beauty even in the deepest despair. Starring Björk, who delivers an exceptional performance, the film is a painful and sublime tale about the limits of comion, dreams and human resistance.
The narrative invites us to walk alongside a protagonist of unshakable strength, who faces seemingly insurmountable adversities with a moving faith in the power of love and art. Her journey is marked by difficult choices that expose the weaknesses and cruelties of an unjust system, but also celebrate the beauty of fleeting moments of joy and solidarity.
Lars von Trier uses his raw and disturbing aesthetic to create a contrast with the dreamlike musical moments, where the protagonist finds refuge and strength. These musical sequences, as magical as they are painful, are more than pauses in the narrative; They are the essence of the character’s soul, a reminder that art can be a sanctuary even in the darkest of times.
The film addresses profound questions about sacrifice, dignity, and the weight of our decisions, while challenging us to reflect on how we treat those who depend on our comion. It is a deep dive into human suffering, but also an ode to resilience and the beauty that can still be found in the darkness.
"Dancer in the Dark" is not just a film; it is an emotional experience that leaves us transformed. It is more than cinema. It is a masterpiece that reminds us that even in the deepest darkness, there is a melody that continues to play – if only we have the courage to hear it.

Top 100 Greatest Musicals

"The whole music thing burst out. And we just knew we were the army that never was.
You know, we're the generation that were allowed to live. And the music came out of that."

In the all-new documentary “Beatles ’64,” director David Tedeschi, with Martin Scorsese as producer, unravels the mythical, surreal and undeniably joyful moment when the Beatles invaded America in 1964, forever changing pop culture and tipping the emotional balance of the world on its axis. This isn’t just a film about four lads from Liverpool taking over the world; it’s a time capsule of innocence, mania, rock ‘n’ roll energy and all of pop culture at its purest and most unpretentious.
We all know the story—the British Invasion, Ed Sullivan, screaming girls—but Tedeschi’s documentary digs deeper than the headlines and the hysteria. It takes you right into the maelstrom, with never-before-seen footage and candid interviews, showing us the Beatles as they were then: wide-eyed, confused and impossibly charming in the face of their own stardom. And who better to chronicle that moment than the band themselves? Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr offer reflections on the present day, giving us a glimpse into how they process their meteoric rise, even now.
The documentary centers around their legendary trip to America, with the Ed Sullivan Show as the defining flashpoint. Watching The Beatles perform live, we’re reminded that it wasn’t just about the music; it was about the sheer joy of seeing them being themselves. In contrast to the rigid, prudish American norms of the early ’60s, The Beatles exuded an infectious, almost otherworldly energy. The footage shows them laughing, joking, cracking jokes at every turn, as if they couldn’t believe the cultural tornado they were causing. Their unflappable good humor, even when surrounded by cameras, speaks to the magic of the moment. You can practically feel the hysteria through the screen—and yet they seem so unfazed by it.
But "Beatles ’64" doesn’t just rely on the “famous” moments. It’s hilarious, absurd, and entirely in keeping with the kind of chaos that only the Beatles could navigate with such ease. One of the most incredible surprises is a rare, intimate close-up of George Harrison mid-performance, with a look that almost seems to say, “What the hell are we doing here?”
The Beatles, with their unique looks and quirky personalities, were America’s first taste of something different, something non-threatening—a stark contrast to the square-jawed, crew-cut masculinity that was the norm in the U.S. at the time.
One of the most interesting points made in the film comes from John Lennon, who muses about the Beatles being “the army that never was.” After the U.K. abolished national service, rock ‘n’ roll filled the void, offering young men and women a new kind of power and purpose. It’s a thought-provoking observation, and one that helps frame the Beatles not just as pop stars, but as cultural icons who arrived at exactly the right time in history.
It’s amazing to think how brief this chapter was. The Beatles’ journey to America lasted only a few years, but their music would evolve in ways no one could have predicted. When they broke up, they were still in their early 20s—a split second of cultural history, frozen in time. “Beatles ’64” offers us a glimpse into that magical, fleeting moment—a time when the world was still innocent enough to be swept away by four young men and their guitars.
If you’ve ever wondered how the Beatles captured America’s hearts (and how that moment feels as fresh as ever), this documentary is your front-row seat. It’s a thrilling journey through a cultural explosion that was as much about the sound of the music as it was about the spirit of the times. In just over an hour, “Beatles ’64” reminds us of how much these four men gave us—and how, for a moment, it really did feel like the whole world was laughing along with them.

"A moment of romance is enough
I want to ask why love is so short"

“A Moment of Romance” is a film that may seem like just another classic romance, but as the plot unfolds, we are taken by a whirlwind of emotions, surprises and moments of pure visual poetry. This film, starring Andy Lau and Jacky Cheung, is a work that delivers the concept of love in its rawest and most irresistible form, a love that does not bow to situations and that, inevitably, proves stronger because of them.
The story, which brilliantly mixes action and romance, revolves around an emotional triangle that goes far beyond the typical “forbidden romance” formula. The film transports us to a universe where love is not just a feeling, but a force capable of transforming individuals and the very course of their lives. And it is in this tension between the real and the ideal that “A Moment of Romance” shines with intense force.
Directed by Benny Chan, it is a study in contrasts. He doesn’t just create romantic scenes that are far from reality — instead, he gives us a raw and vivid look at characters in a constant struggle between their hearts’ desires and the realities of a cruel world. Each scene is beautifully directed to capture not only the beauty of the moment, but the pain and sacrifice that accompany it. The often frenetic pace is balanced by moments of deep reflection, where silences speak louder than any dialogue could ever express.
The chemistry between Andy Lau and Jacky Cheung is one of the film’s greatest assets. Lau, with his presence, brings an unexpected vulnerability to the role of a gangster who, upon falling in love, finds himself confronted with the limits of his own humanity. Cheung, with his delicacy, has constructed a character full of layers, where fragility and strength coexist in the same breath. Together, they create a relationship that is at once desperate and sublime, a connection that seems impossible but at the same time results in something.
"A Moment of Romance" takes us on an emotional journey that is unafraid to take risks, showing that love often comes with sacrifices and losses. It is not an idealized love; it is a real love, with all its pain and surprises. Here, every embrace, every unspoken word, every furtive glance becomes a microcosm of feelings that touch the soul.
And how can we not mention the soundtrack, which is more than just a soundtrack? It is the very pulse of the film, accentuating the moments of tension and tenderness with uncanny precision. The songs convey a sense of nostalgia and melancholy, enveloping the viewer in a sonic embrace from beginning to end.
"A Moment of Romance" is a work of art that escapes the obvious, that refuses to be molded by genre expectations. It is a love story that takes risks, that makes us question our own limits and our choices. It is not an easy film, but it is worth every second, because when it ends, you realize that you have been touched by something unique. Something that will stay with you. A romance that you will not forget. An eternal reminder that, no matter how brief, certain moments of love have the power to redefine everything.

Today we celebrate a monumental milestone in the world of musical cinema: the 40th anniversary of the release of "Stop Making Sense," Jonathan Demme's absolute classic that captured the peak of the Talking Heads band, one of the most innovative of the late 20th century. Four decades later, the film hasn't aged a day; it remains a sonic and visual rollercoaster that easily sures the traditional concept of a "music documentary." That said, I decided to watch it again to write a review for you.

"I have a tape I want to play."

First things first: "Stop Making Sense" is not just about music. It's about a feeling, a unique atmosphere. The first time you watch this film, something changes inside you. It's impossible not to be carried away by the infectious energy of David Byrne and his bandmates. Talking Heads' performance on stage is so charged with magnetism that it transcends the barrier of the screen and becomes personal, intimate. The music, choreography and minimalist aesthetic combine in a whirlwind of colors and rhythms that creates an almost therapeutic psychological effect.
The idea of ​​capturing a live performance may seem simple, but what Demme did was revolutionize the way concerts are filmed. He took the genre to another level, transforming a simple concert into a cinematic spectacle. And what a spectacle it is! The construction of the film is pure art: it starts minimalist, with David Byrne appearing alone on stage, playing an acoustic guitar and creating the tension that will unfold throughout the entire performance. As the band gradually s in, the layers of sounds and colors accumulate in an immersive way. The minimalism of the visual production — which takes all the focus away from the excess of lights and sets to focus on the raw and visceral performance — amplifies the music and the delivery of the musicians.
With each song, the experience becomes more immersive. When the band explodes into “Burning Down the House,” it is as if the stage itself is incinerated by the energy emanating from the musicians. The choreography—especially Byrne’s, who dances with such unique spontaneity that it seems to describe the movement of the music itself—becomes as vital a part of the performance as the sound.
David Byrne is undoubtedly the star performer. His restless, eccentric energy on stage is at the heart of what makes “Stop Making Sense” so special. He makes you believe you’re watching a phenomenon, not just a band performing. His rapport with the audience is magical—a mix of detachment and closeness, of intellectuality and genuine emotion. And of course, that broad-shouldered suit outfit, which has become a visual icon, seems to be an extension of his unique personality. Byrne is a figure who is at once disconcerting and welcoming, constantly in motion, as if he’s on a perpetual quest for perfection in music and performance.
The song selection is simply impeccable. “Stop Making Sense” is a celebration of Talking Heads’ greatest tracks, each a masterpiece of rhythm and inventiveness. From the opening chords of “Psycho Killer” to the infectious electronic energy of “This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody)” and the sweeping “Life During Wartime,” the film is a rollercoaster of sounds. The lyrics, which range from introspective to absurd, make each song a reflection on human behavior and society, while the music pushes the boundaries of sonic experimentation.
The perfect marriage of audio and visuals: the performances of “Once in a Lifetime” and “Girlfriend Is Better,” with their intricate arrangements and mesmerizing visuals, are defining moments in film and music. The images, dance and lights don’t just accompany the songs, they become part of them, making the film as much a sensory experience as they are emotional.
If there’s one thing “Stop Making Sense” teaches us, it’s that music has no expiration date. The film is as fresh and relevant today as it was 40 years ago, and that’s a testament to the timelessness of Talking Heads’ music and Demme’s creative vision. The legacy of “Stop Making Sense” is not just that of a phenomenal band’s concert, but that of a cinematic movement that redefined the genre of music in film. The film continues to inspire filmmakers, musicians and fans around the world, serving as a time capsule that still connects us to the best of the 1980s—a time of artistic experimentation and fearless innovation.
Watching this film is like stepping into a time capsule and returning to a moment when music and film were in perfect sync.

"And while I can think, while I can talk
While I can stand, while I can walk
While I can dream
Oh, please let my dream
Come true"

"Return of the King: The Fall and Rise of Elvis Presley" is a new documentary directed by Jason Hehir (the mastermind behind The Last Dance). It not only sheds light on the Elvis the world knew, but also reveals an absolutely decisive moment in his career – the 1968 NBC TV special, a milestone that, at the time, seemed like a risky bet for the King of Rock.
While today, with Elvis already immortalized in pop culture, a TV special starring him doesn't seem like a big deal, "Return of the King" makes us understand the historical weight of this event.
The documentary takes the viewer to a 33-year-old Elvis Presley, recently released from a decade-long "film prison" where he was forced to star in mediocre films that distanced him from young people and his essence. The 1968 show was his chance to reinvent himself, and he knew it. He stepped away from movies, lost weight, put on his famous leather jacket and returned to the stage with his old bandmates. The tension is in the air — will he be able to get back on his feet and regain his lost authenticity?
The documentary shines in revealing Elvis's anguish and insecurities behind the scenes of this long-awaited comeback. We see Elvis visibly nervous, sweating, unable to hide the pressure. The archival footage, along with interviews with stars such as Bruce Springsteen, Conan O'Brien, Baz Luhrmann, and of course, the touching presence of Priscilla Presley, are the key to understanding the magnitude of this moment.
And when the show begins, the magic happens. The Elvis we see on stage is not the man from "bad movies", but rather the icon reborn. It is as if it were a resurrection, a reinvention of the artist who was on the verge of disappearing into the dust of time. "Return of the King" offers us a unique experience, where Elvis's raw talent, the energy of his performance and his musical legacy are clearer than ever.
The production hits the nail on the head by delving not only into the myth, but also into the difficulties and dilemmas that marked Elvis' life, including the complicated relationship with his infamous manager, Colonel Tom Parker. At the same time, the presence of fans and friends who truly know and understand Elvis, such as Billy Corgan, helps us reflect on what makes the King of Rock so eternal, even with all the flaws in his personal life. In the end, we are left with the feeling that "Return of the King" is not just a documentary about Elvis, but a way of showing us the weight of fame, the impact of art and, of course, the power of redemption. As Billy Corgan says, amidst all the chaos and dilemmas of Elvis' life, "lightning strikes" on stage and he becomes the King once again, before us. This is the true legend, the legend of the man who overcame everything to return, one last time, to his throne. If you are a fan of Elvis, music, or simply love a good story of overcoming, "Return of the King" is a must-see. Prepare to be transported to a time when everything was at stake—and in the end, the King returned to show us what it means to be immortal.

“I That Day. I Never Forgot It.
That A Slave Could Take Revenge Against An Emperor”.

"Gladiator II" attempts to resurrect the magic of its predecessor, delivering a familiar tale of revenge, betrayal, and epic battles. Unfortunately, despite its stunning visuals and action sequences, the film often feels like a retread of what we’ve seen before, with little to offer in the way of story or character development.
At the heart of "Gladiator II" is Paul Mescal’s Hanno, a warrior seeking revenge against the Roman Empire. His journey, filled with intense gladiatorial combat and political intrigue, mirrors the plot of the original Gladiator in many ways. He is captured, forced into the brutal world of the arena, and plots his revenge against the tyrannical rulers of Rome. While this formula has proven successful in the past, it feels overly familiar this time around. The film’s reliance on this tried-and-true structure leaves little room for unexpected twists or emotional depth.
If there’s one thing “Gladiator II” does well, it’s deliver spectacle. Ridley Scott’s direction and the film’s massive budget ensure that the action sequences are as thrilling and visually stunning as ever. From large-scale battles to tense gladiatorial duels, the film doesn’t shy away from grandeur. The use of practical effects, elaborate sets, and a stunning soundtrack add to the sense of grandeur. However, the larger-than-life action occasionally veers into the absurd, with over-the-top moments that undermine the film’s attempts at realism. Some of these sequences, while entertaining, feel more like spectacle for spectacle’s sake, which diminishes the emotional weight of the story.
The cast of “Gladiator II” is undeniably talented, with Paul Mescal, Pedro Pascal, and Denzel Washington all delivering strong performances. However, even their impressive performances can’t fully save a script that feels more like a series of set pieces than a cohesive narrative. While there are emotional moments, they often feel overshadowed by the relentless focus on action. Washington, in particular, brings a lot of charisma to his role, but his character feels a bit out of place in this dated setting. The performances, while strong, can’t escape the predictable nature of the plot. The characters, while well-acted, rarely evolve beyond their established roles, making it difficult to invest in their journeys. This lack of character depth further highlights the film’s reliance on spectacle over substance.
Ultimately, “Gladiator II” struggles with its identity as a sequel. While it offers a return to a beloved world, it doesn’t quite capture the same magic or emotional resonance that made the first film so impactful. The formula is familiar, and while the action is thrilling, it often feels like a rehash of what we’ve already seen. The film tries to outdo its predecessor with bigger battles and more elaborate set pieces, but it sometimes loses sight of what made the original so great: a deeply personal and intense story.
For fans of the first Gladiator, "Gladiator II" could be a fun, if flawed, return to Rome. But for anyone hoping for a fresh take or evolution of the story, it’s hard not to feel like this sequel is a bit unnecessary — another piece of spectacle that lacks the heart and depth to truly stand on its own.

“I’ll believe in you all my life, everyday. E.T., I love you."

“E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial” not only defines an era of cinema, but also touches the depths of humanity in a way few films have managed to do. It’s a story that combines adventure, friendship and a universal appeal that still touches everyone, regardless of age, culture or background.
What makes “E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial” so memorable? – The Extra-Terrestrial" unforgettable, more than anything else, is its ability to capture the purity of childhood. The film is a love letter to the mystery and wonder that surrounds the world when seen through the eyes of a child. Spielberg takes us along with Elliott and his siblings, with an intimacy and empathy that makes the viewer feel part of their journey. This is not just a story about an alien stranded on our planet; it is about how, often, we all feel like outsiders in a world we do not fully understand.
The protagonist, E.T. himself, is a creature that goes beyond fantasy. With his large eyes, subtle gestures and a heart full of kindness, he embodies the idea that the unknown is not something to be feared, but can be a source of connection and affection. The relationship he builds with Elliott is touching and genuine. The way their friendship evolves, without words, but with the depth of an unbreakable bond, is one of the film's greatest lessons: true friendship goes beyond barriers of communication, differences and physical limitations.
The cinematography creates an environment where the magic of the everyday blends with the extraordinary. The flying scenes, for example, are still wonderful to watch, with the lightness and sense of freedom that make the viewer feel suspended, as if they were floating along with the characters. And John Williams's music, with its iconic soundtrack, makes each scene even more unforgettable. The soft, soulful notes of his composition not only complement the film's visuals, but amplify the emotions, creating an atmosphere of nostalgia, longing and pure wonder.
But what really elevates E.T. to something greater is its message: the importance of understanding and embracing difference, of making choices based on love and altruism, and of recognizing the fragility of our own human condition. The film addresses connection and loss in a way that everyone can understand, children and adults alike, without resorting to over-the-top melodrama. Instead, there is an honesty and simplicity that makes the emotions feel deeply and genuinely. This film taught the world about the beauty of intergalactic friendship, but also about empathy, the importance of unity, and perhaps most importantly, the confidence that in the end, we can always count on each other—even the most unlikely friends.
This film is important not only because it captured the hearts of a generation—it is important because its message transcends time and space, reminding us of what really matters: the love, friendship, and humanity that we share, no matter where we come from or where we are going. And in an increasingly challenging world, the story of E.T. has never been more relevant than it is today.
E.T. is, without a doubt, a timeless classic that will touch your heart in ways you never imagined.

"The clown with the white face and the little black hat! He thinks what he is doing is funny because he’s laughing.
But I know it’s not funny because they’re all dead."

"Terrifier 3" is the latest addition to the saga of the terrifying Art the Clown, and my friends, it does not disappoint.
From the very first moment, the atmosphere of the film is impressive. Director Damien Leone, who already won over fans with the previous "Terrifier" and "Terrifier 2", takes the production to new heights. The cinematography is simply incredible, capturing the dark and disturbing essence that made the franchise so iconic. Each scene is very well crafted, creating constant tension from beginning to end.
Art the Clown, played brilliantly by David Howard Thornton, returns with more cruelty and dark humor than ever. His talent for pantomime is even more evident, making him a grotesque and, at the same time, fascinating figure. He has a peculiar way of moving, which mixes humor with a sense of imminent threat, making each appearance a mix of nervous laughter and genuine fear.
The plot of “Terrifier 3” continues the exploration of the Clown’s legacy, but delves into new layers of horror and complexity. Without giving away any details, I can say that the film features intriguing characters, each with their own motivations, which adds depth to the narrative. The twists and turns are unexpected and keep the viewer guessing, while the suspenseful atmosphere is complemented by a chilling soundtrack that perfectly fits the most tense scenes.
One of the film’s highlights are the creative and impactful death sequences, which have become a trademark of the series. The practical effects are breathtaking, and the skill with which the violence is presented is both shocking and artistically impressive. Of course, “Terrifier 3” is not for the faint of heart; each scene is a masterpiece of visceral horror that pushes the boundaries of what we consider acceptable in the genre.
In addition, the film does not forget to add a dash of humor, providing comic relief that helps balance the intensity of the heavier scenes. This makes Terrifier 3 not only a terrifying ride, but also an entertaining experience for fans of the genre.
If you’re a fan of horror films, this is a must-see! Get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions and be sure to check it out with friends – you’ll want to discuss every moment after the credits roll. The Terrifier franchise not only continues to grow, but it also redefines what’s possible in contemporary horror. Go to the theater, dare to watch, and : Art is back and crazier than ever!

On a day like today, October 31st, Halloween is in the air, and there’s no better way to celebrate this date than by revisiting the classic “Halloween,” directed by John Carpenter. This film not only redefined the horror genre, but it has also become one of the most classic horror films.

" I met him, 15 years ago; I was told there was nothing left; no reason, no conscience, no understanding in even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, of good or evil, right or wrong.
I met this... six-year-old child with this blank, pale, emotionless face, and... the blackest eyes - the Devil's eyes.
I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven trying to keep him locked up, because I realized that what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply... evil."

From the opening scene, we are sent into a world of dread and anticipation. The soundtrack of “Halloween” not only adds to the mood of terror from the first second, but also helps set the standard for many horror productions that followed. It’s a testament to Carpenter’s talent as a composer and director, and his ability to transform sound into emotion. To this day, the music is a hallmark of Halloween, instantly recognizable to fans of the genre and a staple in the world of cinema.
The cinematography is another standout aspect, with Carpenter’s framing and use of shadows creating a sense of unease. The iconic tracking shots, especially those that follow Laurie Strode, played brilliantly by Jamie Lee Curtis, add a great quality that makes the viewer feel both part of the action and an unwelcome observer. The suburban setting, normally associated with safety and normalcy, becomes a twisted playground for terror, while the seemingly peaceful streets of Haddonfield become a hunting ground for the masked figure of Michael Myers. Speaking of Michael Myers, his character is a chilling embodiment of pure evil. With his iconic white mask and chases, he becomes the typical murderous villain of horror films, but Carpenter imbues him with an air of mystery that is both mysterious and frightening. The film avoids revealing too much about his backstory, allowing the audience’s imagination to imagine the rest, which only adds to the fear. The pacing of the film is incredible; it builds tension gradually, allowing moments of stillness to amplify that fear that we know will be inevitable. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the leaves outside, serves to keep us on the edge of our seats. Carpenter balances moments of quiet suspense with bursts of horror, ensuring that the audience never gets too comfortable. One of the film’s most significant strengths lies in its exploration of the trope of the final girl, personified by Laurie Strode. Unlike many horror protagonists of her era, Laurie is resourceful, intelligent, and relatable. Her fight for survival against Myers becomes a compelling narrative thread, inviting viewers to both root for her and fear for her fate.
“Halloween”’s impact on the horror genre is undeniable; it spawned countless imitators and established conventions that still prevail in horror films today. Yet, despite being a pioneer, it retains a unique charm that transcends its time. The combination of Carpenter’s direction, haunting score, and powerful performances creates an immersive atmosphere that keeps viewers coming back for more.

" us..."

“The Evil Dead” is a landmark in the horror genre, a film that not only terrified and entertained audiences upon its release, but also became a cult classic that continues to influence filmmakers to this day.
The simplicity of this premise is what makes it so effective and straightforward. It combines the familiar element of a family outing with friends with the idea that the unknown and the supernatural can infiltrate moments of tranquility. The isolation of the cabin in the woods amplifies the sense of vulnerability, creating a setting ripe for terror. As events unfold, the tension mounts, and the fight for survival becomes a desperate battle against the entities that surround them. What unfolds is a terrifying descent into chaos, dread, and visceral horror.
One of my favorite aspects of the film is its camerawork. I loved the variety of techniques that create an unsettling sense of movement, almost as if evil itself is stalking the characters. The use of a handheld camera—often referred to as the “demon’s point of view”—adds a layer of urgency and terror, immersing the audience in the characters’ plight. Each frame is beautifully crafted, balancing the tension with moments of dark humor that keep the narrative from becoming overwhelmingly dark. Amidst extremely graphic and frightening scenes, dark humor emerges unexpectedly, providing a contrast that makes the audience laugh and cringe at the same time. This mix creates a unique rhythm: just when you think you’re about to relax, the horror comes back with a vengeance. Raimi’s ability to inject humor into the darkest situations is a testament to his genius as a director. The performances are raw and well-crafted as well, particularly Bruce Campbell’s as Ash. His transition from an everyman to a hero is nothing short of incredible. Interestingly, the way the entities interact with the characters also adds a layer of humor. Their lines and behaviors often have an exaggerated and comical tone, even in the midst of the horror. This creates a mix that makes the film even more entertaining to watch, as the audience oscillates between nervous laughter and fear.
The soundtrack for "The Evil Dead" is a fundamental part of the film's terrifying atmosphere. Composed of a combination of fantastical melodies and disturbing sound effects, the music intensifies the tension and sense of despair leading up to the film's "Grand Finale."
The practical effects, created with incredible creativity that shows the limitations of the time period, add a layer of realism that CGI often fails to replicate. The use of makeup, prosthetics, and stop-motion effects contribute to a visual representation that is both frightening and mesmerizing. These elements make the entities memorable and help establish the film’s disturbing tone. The grotesque imagery and shocking moments are incredible, drawing you deeper into the dark world by the end of the film.

"Put the knife in your eye..."

"Skinamarink" is an atmospheric horror film that immerses us all in an unsettling world that feels nostalgic at the same time. This film stands out for its minimalist and haunting approach to horror that explores primal fears. The film is set in a dimly lit house, where every element becomes frightening and the familiar becomes strange. Ball uses the camera to create a sense of disorientation. Scenes linger, with long takes that allow the tension to gradually build. The darkness of the house feels almost alive, a character in itself that watches you and waits for you. The expectation that something is going to happen hangs in the air, and this anxiety is very high. The structure of the film creates a feeling that at any moment normality could be shattered, creating a constant state of alert. Rather than relying on jump scares, "Skinamarink" creates horror through suggestion, allowing the audience's imagination to fill in the gaps. This choice may challenge conventional horror fans, but for those willing to embrace its slower pace, it rewards with a deep sense of unease.
Character development is minimal, but this lack of exposition amplifies the film’s chilling effect. We are instead thrust into the disorienting experiences of two children as they navigate their increasingly strange surroundings. The film successfully captures childhood fears, exploring themes of abandonment and vulnerability within the familiar, and is structured in a way that captures how children perceive the world, often through a filter of imagination and fear that is presented on a deeper psychological level. The child’s perspective is very central to the narrative. Children too young to understand or cope with fear become the protagonists of a narrative where the home, traditionally a safe space, becomes a source of terror. This highlights how childhood can be permeated by deep-seated fears that, to adults, may seem unrealistic or exaggerated.
The film’s sound design is very well crafted! The noises, often distorted or muffled, evoke an atmosphere of insecurity. Sounds such as whispers, thuds, and creaks in the house create a constant sense of surveillance, as if something is always lurking. These sound elements are not only complementary, but essential to building tension and fear. The lack of a conventional soundtrack puts the viewer on alert, forcing them to focus on every crack and echo, which amplifies our anxiety. The murmurs and whispers can symbolize children's inner fears, representing what they are unable to verbalize. These sounds connect to the idea that children often struggle to express their anxieties, making the voices a reflection of their confused and terrifying thoughts.
In a genre often dominated by stereotypical plots, "Skinamarink" dares to be different. It is an experience that challenges viewers to confront their own fears and, for that, deserves to be a well-regarded film in the world of horror films.

Thank you so much, Paula, for inviting me to watch "Skinamarink"! <3
It was an amazing experience and even more fun with you — it's always great to have you to explore different films like this!

As we celebrate the 10th anniversary of “Interstellar,” we are reminded of its profound impact on both cinema and our understanding of humanity’s place in the cosmos. This film transcends the boundaries of traditional science fiction, uniquely blending themes of love, sacrifice, and the relentless pursuit of survival. With that said, I decided to watch it again to write a review for you!

“Love is quantifiable, love is the one thing we are capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of space and time.”

At the center of the story is Cooper, played by Matthew McConaughey. His struggle is fueled by the love he feels for his children, especially for Murph, his eldest daughter. Cooper represents the archetypal hero who, in search of a better future for his family, finds himself faced with impossible decisions. Her determination and courage are irable, reflecting the universal struggle of parents to protect those they love, even in the face of the unknown. Then we have Murphy "Murph" Cooper, played by Jessica Chastain and Mackenzie Foy, who is a driving force in the narrative. From an early age, Murph demonstrates remarkable intelligence and an insatiable curiosity. The relationship between father and daughter is one of the most moving in the film, highlighting the importance of legacy and the search for truth. As Murph grows up, her journey becomes a testament to resilience and the struggle for knowledge, symbolizing humanity's relentless search for answers. Finally, Dr. Amelia Brand, played by Anne Hathaway, is a scientist and Cooper's colleague on the space mission. Her character brings a unique combination of intellect and vulnerability. Not only is Mark an expert in her field, she has also faced emotional dilemmas that have forced her to balance reason and ion. Her connection with Cooper adds an interesting layer to the narrative, exploring themes of love and sacrifice that permeate their journey.
Nolan’s direction, combined with the breathtaking cinematography, is a brilliant visual that invites us to contemplate our place in the universe. Every scene is perfectly crafted and beautifully crafted, from the awe-inspiring images of distant galaxies to the haunting beauty of desolate planets. The film effectively uses visuals to not only dazzle, but to give us a sense of wonder and humility in the face of infinity. For me, “Interstellar” is an exploration of love—a theme that runs deep throughout the film. It shows us that love is a powerful and transcendent force, capable of transcending vast distances of time and space. This central idea prompts us to reflect on our own lives: What sacrifices would we make for those we love? How do our connections shape our identities and influence our decisions?
One of the most innovative aspects of the film is its treatment of time. Nolan challenges our understanding, portraying time as a fluid and complex dimension that profoundly affects the lives of the characters. This thematic exploration invites viewers to consider: How do we perceive time? Are we fully present in our lives, or do we often let moments slip away? The film’s nuanced depiction of time forces us to reflect on our own priorities and the importance of seizing the moment.
“Interstellar” also embodies the spirit of human curiosity and the relentless pursuit of knowledge. The characters’ journey through the cosmos serves as a metaphor for our own explorations—both scientific and personal. As they venture into the unknown, we are inspired to consider the meaning of discovery: What drives us to seek new frontiers? How do we confront the mysteries that await us? This exploration of humanity’s place in the universe invites a broader conversation about our responsibilities. In an era marked by environmental crises and societal challenges, “Interstellar” challenges us to reflect on our actions and their implications for future generations. It emphasizes that while the universe is vast and often unknown, our search for understanding and connection is what defines us.
The soundtrack for “Interstellar,” composed by Hans Zimmer, is one of the most memorable aspects of the film. With a blend of orchestral and electronic sounds, the music is able to convey a deep range of emotions, complementing the characters’ experiences and the grandeur of the spacescapes. The use of pipe organs, in particular, lends an almost religious quality to the music, elevating moments of tension and reflection to a new level. Zimmer’s compositions are more than just a backdrop; they become part of the narrative. Every note seems to speak to the characters’ journey, heightening the cinematic experience and making it unforgettable.
A decade after “Interstellar,” we recognize its enduring power to inspire reflection and dialogue about what it means to be human. The film invites us to dream, explore, and connect with one another in a world that often feels disconnected (or too connected virtually).
In an age filled with uncertainty, “Interstellar” remains a beacon of hope and a reminder of the beauty of exploration—both of the cosmos and of ourselves. As we look back on this film, we are left with a resonant question: How can we continue to reach for the stars while nurturing the love and connections that make life truly meaningful?

“Sometimes, to survive, you must become more than you were programmed to be.”

“The Wild Robot” is a film adaptation that intertwines the realms of technology and nature, delivering an incredible narrative that has the gift of speaking to audiences of all ages. Delicately directed, the film brings to life the story of a robot, Roz, who finds herself stranded on a remote island. As she navigates this unfamiliar terrain, the film explores themes of survival, connection, and the ongoing struggle between artificial intelligence and the natural world.
Visually, the lush landscapes of the island are beautifully rendered, inviting viewers to immerse themselves in the vibrant ecosystem. One of the deeper meanings of the visual aesthetic is the symbolism of the relationship between technology and nature. Roz, as a robot, is an example of technology in a natural environment. Her presence on the island initially provokes strangeness, but as she learns to coexist with the animals, the animation visually illustrates this integration. The transformation of Roz’s living space as she adapts and becomes part of the community suggests that technology can be an ally in preserving and caring for nature, if used with awareness and respect.
One of the most compelling aspects of “The Wild Robot” is its exploration of identity and belonging. As Roz learns to adapt and interact with the island’s inhabitants, the film raises important questions about what it means to be “alive.” Is it the ability to feel and express emotions, or is it simply the ability to adapt and learn? This duality forces us to reflect on our own definitions of life and consciousness, challenging us to consider the boundaries between humans and machines.
In addition, the film invites a deeper conversation about environmental stewardship. For me, Roz’s journey serves as a metaphor for the relationship between humanity and the natural world. It raises a crucial question: Can technology coexist harmoniously with nature, or are they destined to collide? As Roz develops bonds with the creatures on the island, the film subtly critiques our modern dependence on technology, encouraging us to reconsider our impact on the environment.
Throughout the story, Roz learns to respect and care for the island’s ecosystem, showing that technology and nature can work together in harmony. This message is especially relevant in today’s context, where we often find tensions between technological advancement and environmental preservation. The narrative suggests that true evolution involves finding a balance that benefits both sides.
Another important issue is the responsibility we have towards our environment and other life forms. Roz’s journey leads her to realize that she has a role to play in protecting the island and its inhabitants. She invites us to reflect on our own responsibilities and how our actions impact the world around us. The film challenges us to cultivate empathy, not only for our fellow human beings, but for all the creatures that share this planet.
“The Wild Robot” shows us that affection is more than an emotion; it is a catalyst for transformation and understanding. The film shows us that emotional connection can overcome differences, leading to acceptance and peaceful coexistence. By addressing issues of identity, environmental responsibility and empathy, “The Wild Robot” becomes a deeply moving work, encouraging each of us to reflect on our own relationships with the world and with others. Through Roz’s lens, we are invited to reconsider our perceptions of life, love and the role each of us plays in our existence.
In this way, “The Wild Robot” teaches us that togetherness is vital not only for survival, but also for building meaningful bonds, showing that even in a diverse and diverse world, empathy and collaboration can lead to a better future. It is a journey worth taking and one that sparks important conversations about the future we envision and the bonds we create throughout our lives.

“Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”

“Ring,” or “Ringu” in Japan, offers a chilling exploration of fear and the unknown, setting a new standard for psychological horror. In an atmosphere where everyday life becomes bleak, “Ring” is more than just a horror film; it’s an experience that provokes profound questions about what we truly fear. The narrative begins by taking us through a series of mysterious deaths linked to a cursed videotape, but it harbors a terrifying secret.
The story follows Reiko Asakawa, a journalist, as she delves deeper into the enigma surrounding the tape and the tragic events connected to it. Her journey is driven by professional curiosity and personal interest as she tries to uncover the truth before it’s too late. However, she ends up becoming part of a race against time, where every second counts and the truth is as terrifying as death. But what is that truth? And more importantly, what happens when human curiosity exceeds the limits of what should be known?
Nakata’s direction creates a pervasive atmosphere of dread that permeates every scene. Nakata’s compositions often employ long takes and tight angles that heighten the tension. The way scenes are framed can give us a sense of claustrophobia, especially during moments of discovery and revelation about the “why” of what is happening. The use of ambient sound, combined with haunting imagery, draws viewers into a world where the ordinary becomes terrifying. This attention to detail gives us a sense of doom that is present in every scene of the film. “Ring” introduces us to themes such as the nature of fear and the consequences of relentlessly seeking the truth.
Each character’s journey reflects the ways in which personal pain can manifest and affect those around them, making the horror feel deeply personal and relatable to any event, ensuring that we remain curious about their fates and wondering “what will happen next?” What happens when buried secrets come to light? Curiosity can be a deadly trap, and the search for answers can lead to places we never intended to explore.
The film's approach is slow but purposeful, allowing the suspense and fear to gradually build, precisely to create a memorable experience throughout the film, including an ending that leaves you with many questions.

Today marks five years since the release of the mesmerizing film “The Lighthouse.” This haunting tale of isolation and madness has etched itself into the history of modern cinema, inviting us to explore its haunting themes. And so I decided to rewatch it to write a review for you.

"We were always meant to be in the dark."

“The Lighthouse” is a stunning achievement in cinematic art. Shot in black and white and presented in an aspect ratio reminiscent of vintage cinema, Robert Eggers transports viewers to a secluded, shadowy lighthouse on a rugged coastline. The film’s visual aesthetic is incredibly crafted, with each frame giving us a sense of dread and awe at such a well-crafted piece of work. The film’s grainy texture adds to its atmosphere, immersing us in a world where reality merges with madness.
From the very beginning, “The Lighthouse” explores deep themes of isolation and the psychological turmoil that comes with it. The two main characters, played by Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson, are trapped in a relentless cycle of loneliness and intense interpersonal conflict. Their descent into madness reflects the harsh and unyielding environment that surrounds them, illustrating how isolation can distort perception and breed paranoia.
The film also delves into complex power dynamics, particularly in relation to masculinity. The relationships between the characters oscillate between camaraderie and hostility, revealing the fragility of their identities. As they navigate their roles, the film raises questions about authority, dominance, and vulnerability, leading viewers to contemplate the nature of power in both personal and social contexts.
Eggers infuses the narrative with elements of myth and folklore, showcasing themes of the sea, the divine, and the human psyche. The lighthouse itself becomes a symbol of hope and despair, illuminating the characters’ internal and external conflicts and the larger existential questions that arise from their situation.
The film’s sound design is equally vital to its impact. The haunting score and cacophony of natural yet bizarre sounds amplify the sense of dread and unease, drawing viewers deeper into the characters’ spiraling descent. The auditory experience complements the visual narrative, creating a connection that heightens the emotional weight of each scene.
Five years later, “The Lighthouse” continues to provoke thought and discussion, solidifying its place as a modern classic. It is a film that defies categorization in an easy way, challenging viewers with its complexity and ambiguity.

"Angelic? I don't know about that.
When I look in the mirror, I feel like I'm looking at someone who looks like me
But seems to come from the Beyond, from the Beyond."

“Eyes Without a Face” is a haunting masterpiece that for me is unlike any other in the horror genre, building a narrative rich in themes of identity, beauty and despair.
From its frightening opening scenes, the film draws you into a dark atmosphere, reinforced by the haunting soundtrack. The cinematography is incredible. The use of light and shadow adds depth to the emotional turmoil of the characters.
The film follows the enigmatic figure of Christiane. Her face, eerily hidden behind a mask, becomes a symbol of her struggle for identity and self-acceptance. As she navigates her tragic reality, we are drawn into her silent suffering and desperate search for freedom.
The narrative unfolds at a good pace, allowing the tension to gradually build with plenty of suspense. The chilling portrayal of the relationship between Christiane and her father, a troubled surgeon consumed by the weight of guilt and obsession with perfection, adds layers of psychological complexity. Her attempts to restore her beauty lead to harrowing and fatal consequences. Franju’s direction is poetic and haunting, striking a perfect balance between art and horror. This film is a haunting reminder of the fragility of identity and the dark corners of the human psyche where people go in search of “perfection.”
“Eyes Without a Face” is not just a film about physical disfigurement, but a profound exploration of emotional scars and the price of perfection. The philosophical undertones challenge viewers to confront their own notions of beauty and humanity, making it a topic that remains relevant in today’s world.

Today marks the 30th anniversary of Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction, the film that forever changed the face of cinema. This audacious work fused multiple narratives into a singular and unforgettable experience, showcasing Tarantino’s unique voice and creative prowess. With that said, I decided to watch it again to write a review about it and its importance to me and the world of cinema.

“The days of forgetting are over, and the days of ing have just begun.”

“Pulp Fiction” is a prime example of non-linear storytelling at its best. The film seamlessly weaves together several seemingly absurd stories—each featuring characters navigating the underworld of Los Angeles. From the enigmatic killers Vincent Vega and Jules Winnfield, played by Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta, to the charismatic Mia Wallace played by Uma Thurman, it shows us how each character’s journey is engaging, layered, and punctuated by moments of dark humor and violence. Tarantino’s talent for dialogue is on full display, with lines that have become staples of popular culture. The conversations flow effortlessly, blending mundane topics with philosophical musings, all delivered with razor-sharp wit and intertwining them into a brilliant plot. The characters are not complex individuals whose interactions defy conventional morality. Samuel L. Jackson’s portrayal of Jules, in particular, continues to be spectacular, delivering some of cinema’s most iconic moments. Finally, the humor, which emerges even in tense situations, creates an interesting contrast between the comic and the tragic, provoking reflections on human nature and life circumstances. Together, these intentions make “Pulp Fiction” a rich and provocative cinematic experience, inviting the audience to explore its deep, complex and funny layers. The violence in “Pulp Fiction” is treated in a stylized and often ironic manner. Tarantino does not seek to shock for the sake of shocking; violence is used to provoke reflections on morality and human nature. The humor that permeates moments of tension creates an intriguing contrast, allowing viewers to laugh amidst the chaos. This combination of violence and humor defies genre norms and keeps audiences guessing as to what will happen next.
The film’s aesthetic is equally impressive. Vibrant colors and dynamic framing create a sense of energy and movement, reflecting the film’s pulsating pace. Coupled with a carefully curated soundtrack featuring an eclectic mix of genres, “Pulp Fiction” creates an immersive listening experience that enhances its narrative depth.
Upon its release, “Pulp Fiction” was a cultural phenomenon and became Tarantino’s favorite film (including mine), revitalizing interest in independent cinema and inspiring a new wave of filmmakers. It won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and received numerous awards, including an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. The film’s legacy lives on, influencing countless works across multiple mediums and solidifying Tarantino’s position as a defining filmmaker of his generation.
This is a film that challenges viewers to rethink conventional storytelling, blending genres, tones, and emotions in a way that is uniquely Tarantino. Its impact on cinema and culture is immeasurable, and its timelessness ensures that it will remain with audiences for years to come. This is Pulp Fiction — a true masterpiece that revolutionized the way we think about cinema.

In the spirit of Spooktober, I decided to revisit and write a review of “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” which turns 50 today. As we celebrate its 50th anniversary, it’s important to the film’s groundbreaking contributions to the genre, its cultural impact, and its legacy on the world.

“For them, an idyllic summer afternoon car ride turned into a nightmare.
The events of that day would lead to the discovery of one of the most bizarre crimes in the annals of American history, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.”

“The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” is a film that for me, broke conventions in horror filmmaking. Shot on a modest budget, the film utilized a gritty, documentary-like style that heightened its sense of realism. The film’s grainy cinematography and raw sound design created an immersive experience that left many of us feeling uncomfortable throughout the film. Tobe Hooper's choice to eschew elaborate special effects in favor of practical effects allowed viewers' imaginations to fill in the horrific gaps, heightening the film's terror. The film reflects the anxieties of a rapidly changing society in the 1970s. It contrasts the rustic, rural lifestyle with the emerging modern world, portraying the rural family as both terrifying and tragic. The titular character, Leatherface, symbolizes the duality of man—the capacity for both creation and destruction.
The performances in "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" are raw and chilling, with Marilyn Burns delivering a stunning portrayal of Sally Hardesty. Her character's harrowing journey embodies the film's central themes. The ing cast, including Gunnar Hansen as Leatherface, bring a visceral authenticity to their roles, making their portrayals both memorable and frightening. The characters are deeply flawed and complex, adding layers of nuance that elevate the horror beyond mere shock value. Its shocking imagery challenged social norms and expectations of horror, paving the way for future horror films. It inspired countless filmmakers, including John Carpenter, Wes Craven, and others, and spawned a subgenre that remains popular to this day.
“The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” also sparked significant discussion about censorship and the depiction of violence in film. Its controversial nature sparked debates that continue to shape the conversation around horror cinema, leading to the development of the MPAA rating system and influencing content regulations.
Fifty years later, “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” remains a classic for audiences and filmmakers alike. Its influence can be seen in a multitude of horror films, from “Halloween” to “The Blair Witch Project.” The film has spawned countless sequels, remakes, and reboots, each attempting to capture the raw essence of the original while exploring new themes. A great film to watch this month!!

"If I Can't Move, I Can't Sing."

“Elvis” It was one of the first Elvis biopics that I watched and it managed to captivate me with its cinematography and an incredible soundtrack that pays homage to the musical genius Elvis Presley. The film takes us on a journey through Elvis' rise to fame, showing his early days in Memphis, how his innovative music changed the entire scene, and his iconic performances that left audiences breathless.
Jonathan Rhys Meyers gives a very good performance as Elvis, capturing his charm and complex personal life. Rhys Meyers brings Elvis to life with great stage presence, allowing viewers to feel the emotion of his performances and the weight of his personal struggles.
The film artfully navigates Elvis' personal and professional life, highlighting his tumultuous relationship with manager Colonel Parker. The mix of music, romance, and drama creates a very good narrative throughout the film.
The soundtrack is full of classics, featuring classic Elvis hits that are perfectly integrated into the story. From the electrifying “Hound Dog” to the heartbreaking “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” music not only celebrates Elvis’ legacy, it also revitalizes it for a new generation.
When Baz Luhrmann brought his own dazzling talent to the life of Elvis with his acclaimed film. Starring Austin Butler as the titular character, this version offered a fresh perspective on the same iconic journey, showing the highs and lows of Elvis’ life through a modern cinematic lens. Both films, while different in style and narrative, pay homage to the same cultural phenomenon that is Elvis Presley.
While the 2005 film focuses on the pivotal years of his rise to stardom, the 2022 version delves deeper into his complicated legacy and the impact of fame on his life. Each film offers a unique lens, reminding us of the timeless influence Elvis had and will always have on music and culture.
This is a film that takes a detailed look at the King’s early life in music, filled with incredible performances and unforgettable music. Even if you're not that familiar with Elvis' music, this movie is a rollercoaster ride of fun, nostalgia, and rock 'n' roll magic!

As we celebrate the 10th anniversary of “Whiplash,” it’s remarkable to reflect on the profound impact this film has had on each of us and the film industry. Directed by Damien Chazelle, “Whiplash” offers a masterclass in storytelling that combines intense emotional depth with technical prowess, establishing itself as a modern classic. With that in mind, I decided to watch it again to write a review for you!

“So you KNOW the difference! If you deliberately sabotage my band, I will fuck you like a pig. Now you’re a rusher, or you’re a dragger, or you’re going to BE ON MY FUCKING TIME?!?”

“Whiplash” immediately gives us riveting performances from Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons in the opening scenes. Teller embodies the ambitious young drummer, Andrew Neiman, with a raw intensity that captivates us all to root for him. His portrayal of a ionate musician striving for greatness is relatable and inspiring. Simmons, on the other hand, delivers a powerful performance as the merciless instructor Terence Fletcher. His ability to simultaneously scare and impress creates a complex dynamic that drives the film’s tension.
I love the way “Whiplash” explores themes of ambition, sacrifice, and the pursuit of excellence. The film delves into the dark side of artistic aspiration, raising challenging questions about the cost of success. Like anyone who has ever chased a dream, it tells a universal story that transcends its musical backdrop.
Chazelle’s direction is nothing short of brilliant. He quickly crafts a narrative that is both moving and intimate. The cinematography, combined with innovative editing, immerses viewers in the frenetic world of jazz music. The rhythmic beats mirror the beats of a jazz performance, creating an immersive and almost hypnotic experience.
Each frame is beautifully composed, adding to the emotional weight of the film. Lighting is a key part of its aesthetic and storytelling. The use of light and shadow is intensely dramatic, reflecting the tension and intensity of the musical performances, as well as the relationship between the main characters, Andrew and Fletcher. Warm tones are often used in scenes depicting rehearsals and performances, creating an intense and emotional atmosphere. On the other hand, cooler tones appear in moments of tension or conflict, reflecting the pressure and oppression that Andrew faces.
Whiplash’s soundtrack, featuring original compositions and a central song called “Caravan,” is a jazz classic, and its inclusion highlights the richness of this musical genre, as well as celebrating improvisation and creativity. The music serves as a vehicle to explore Andrew’s ion for drumming and jazz, connecting him to a rich and complex musical tradition. And all of this is an integral part of the film’s narrative. The music not only drives the narrative, but also reflects the characters’ internal struggles. It is a celebration of jazz that showcases its complexity and beauty, making it an essential part of the film’s identity.
The emotional intensity of “Whiplash” is one of its strengths. The film captures the highs and lows of the creative process, illustrating the sacrifices artists make in their pursuit of perfection.
Ultimately, “Whiplash” reminds us that in our pursuit of our dreams, we need to consider not only what we might gain, but also what we might lose — and that true ion can be both a blessing and a curse. This internal struggle and emotional intensity are what make the story so impactful and universal.
Since its release, “Whiplash” has influenced filmmakers and musicians alike. Its portrayal of mentoring relationships has sparked conversations about the ethics of teaching and the pressures placed on artists. The film’s legacy lives on through its unforgettable lines and moments, continuing to inspire new generations.
Looking back more than a decade since “Whiplash” first hit the big screen, it remains an incredible exploration of ambition and artistry. With its exceptional performances, powerful themes and stunning direction, it is a testament to the power of cinema. “Whiplash” not only entertains, but also challenges viewers to confront their own definitions of success, making it a truly remarkable film that will be ed for years to come.

"I want the truth. No matter how terrifying, I want the truth."

“Noroi: The Curse” is a Japanese found footage horror film that creates a chilling narrative that explores themes of folklore, the supernatural and the consequences of seeking the truth in the dark corners of Japan.
The story revolves around a paranormal documentary filmmaker named Masafumi Kobayashi. After the mysterious death of a fellow researcher, Kobayashi delves into the enigma surrounding a cursed entity known as “Kagutaba,” an ancient spirit linked to local legends. As he investigates, he uncovers a series of disturbing events connected to a tragic past involving a young girl, an abandoned shrine, and a series of bizarre occurrences that lead him to a terrifying revelation.
The often shaky and intimate camerawork creates an unsettling sense of immediacy. The use of natural lighting and minimal special effects contribute to the film’s eerie atmosphere. Shiraishi’s direction is superb, building suspense through gradual revelations rather than outright scares. This approach results in a deeply unsettling viewing experience that lingers long after the credits roll.
The film uses ambient sounds, whispers, screams, and haunting music to amplify the sense of dread. The minimalist soundtrack further enhances the film’s sense of isolation and fear. This aural landscape heightens the overall tension and immerses you in the terrifying world that Kobayashi navigates.
As Kobayashi becomes increasingly obsessed with the curse, the film explores the psychological impact of his investigation. The ing cast, including a cast of individuals impacted by the curse, further enriches the narrative, each adding layers to the unfolding mystery.
“Noroi” manages to delve into themes of belief, superstition, and the fragility of human understanding when faced with the inexplicable. The film critiques the human desire to uncover truths, regardless of the potential consequences. The use of Japanese folklore and mythology adds depth to the story, allowing viewers to reflect on the cultural significance of the curse and its impact on the community.
As a film rooted in Japanese horror traditions, “Noroi” draws on cultural elements that can be interpreted differently for international audiences. The film’s exploration of family, community, and the supernatural reflects broader social anxieties, particularly regarding the clash of modernity with ancient beliefs. For viewers unfamiliar with Japanese folklore, the film serves as both an introduction and a chilling cautionary tale.
Its slow-paced approach and layered narrative make it a film that demands attention and contemplation, inviting us to confront our fears and the darker aspects of human curiosity.
One of the best found footage films I’ve ever seen!

"I do all my little puzzles. I do crosswords. I'm lifting weights. I am doing everything that I have read will help to stave off the progression of this disease. Stave it off! There's no cure. And so when I am in the middle of something and suddenly my mind just leaves the premises, there are no words to describe how distressing it is."

“The Taking of Deborah Logan” is a horror film that blends found footage filmmaking with chilling supernatural elements. The film not only delivers plenty of scares, but also explores deep themes of memory, identity, and the harrowing effects of Alzheimer’s disease.
The narrative revolves around a documentary crew seeking to capture the life of Deborah Logan, an elderly woman suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer’s. What begins as a straightforward exploration of her daily struggles quickly turns into a nightmare as the crew documents Deborah’s increasingly disturbing and frightening behavior. The film is anchored by an exceptional performance by Jill Larson as Deborah, who is both haunting and heartbreaking. Jill navigates the complexities of a woman struggling with the ravages of memory loss, infusing her character with a vulnerability that is heartbreaking in certain scenes.
The use of handheld cameras heightens the documentary feel, immersing viewers in the most intimate and often claustrophobic spaces of Deborah’s home. The increasingly dark scenes and tight framing amplify the tension, drawing the audience closer to the unfolding horror.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the film for me is its ability to present multiple emotions in horror. As the documentary crew — led by the sincere and determined Mia — delves deeper into Deborah’s life, they discover not only the terrifying manifestations of her disease, but also the heartbreaking reality of her condition. This dual narrative creates a complex interplay between fear and empathy, challenging viewers to confront their own feelings about aging and loss.
Ultimately, “The Taking of Deborah Logan” moves beyond horror to its commitment to exploring the human experience. It doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of Alzheimer’s, portraying it as a terrifying entity in its own right — one that slowly and inevitably consumes memories and identities. This thematic depth, even when mixed with a horror film, ensures that the film sticks with you, leaving you with reflections on family ties, the fragility of the mind, and the inevitability of aging.

"If it's in a word, if it's in a look...
No matter what, you can't shake... The Babadook."

"The Babadook" is a psychological thriller that delves into the complexities of grief and motherhood, all portrayed with a haunting quality. At the center of the narrative is Amelia, portrayed with raw vulnerability as she struggles with the overwhelming challenges of single motherhood. Her relationship with her son, Samuel, is a profound exploration of love and despair. Samuel's fear of a menacing creature from a mysterious storybook adds layers to the already tense dynamic, making the tension between them heartbreaking. For me, "The Babadook" serves as a metaphor for Amelia's unresolved grief and the psychological burdens she carries. Kent has crafted a narrative that deftly blurs the lines between reality and the supernatural, creating an atmosphere that draws viewers into Amelia's deteriorating psyche. The cinematography is stunning yet beautifully composed, with dark corners and visuals that create a sense of dread without relying on traditional jump scares. The sound design plays a key role in amplifying the film’s tension. The haunting score, coupled with the unsettling sounds of the Babadook’s presence, envelops the viewer, making every creak of the floorboards, knock on the door, and whisper in the dark feel alive. This soundscape adds to the emotional weight of the story, immersing us in Amelia’s spiraling descent into fear and isolation. Kent’s direction is startling and sensitive, refusing to simplify the complexities of mental health and trauma. Instead, “The Babadook” invites the audience to confront their own fears, making the creature not just a figment of the imagination, but a reflection of our own internal struggles. It’s a profound commentary on the dark corners of the human experience, reminding us that the monsters we face are often the ones we can’t see. In a world awash with horror films, “The Babadook” stands out as an exploration of motherhood, loss, and the resilience it takes to confront one’s own demons. This film doesn’t just seek to scare; it seeks to understand. As the final moments unfold, you’re left with an unsettling yet reflective feeling—an invitation to embrace the shadows that shape our lives.
But after the finale, “The Babadook” becomes a chilling, unforgettable journey into the heart of fear itself and an example of the power of storytelling to unearth our deepest anxieties. Prepare for a cinematic experience that will linger in your mind, because “The Babadook” might just remind you of the shadows that lurk within us all.

"You have your good things
And I have mine
In heaven, everything is fine."

“Eraserhead” is David Lynch’s groundbreaking debut film that explores themes of anxiety, fatherhood, and the surreal nature of existence. The film has become a cult classic, known for its distinctive style, haunting, and disturbing imagery.
From the very first scene, “Eraserhead” immerses viewers in a nightmarish industrial landscape. Shot in black and white, the film’s visuals are stunning. Lynch uses contrast and shadow to create an oppressive atmosphere, presenting feelings of dread and unease. The haunting images—such as the creepy industrial scenes and the unsettling presence of the child—are crafted with attention to detail, making each frame feel alive and giving us a claustrophobic feeling.
“Eraserhead” delves into deep existential themes. The narrative centers on Henry Spencer, played by Jack Nance, who navigates the anxieties of fatherhood in an unfathomably dark world. Lynch’s exploration of fatherhood is multifaceted—combining horror with dark humor to illustrate the fears and responsibilities that come with bringing a new life into a chaotic universe.
The film’s imagery—especially the iconic “baby”—serves as a powerful symbol of anxiety and the unknown. A creature that symbolizes his anxieties and pressures as a father. The tension culminates in a moment where he seems to have a moment of release, but this is also accompanied by a deep sense of despair and confusion. This grotesque depiction of life challenges societal notions of beauty and normalcy, causing viewers to question the very nature of existence. The disconnect between Henry and his surroundings brings a sense of isolation, highlighting the alienation many of us feel in modern society.
The decaying, claustrophobic environments reflect the psychological turmoil of protagonist Henry Spencer, creating a world that feels both familiar and unsettling. The sound design complements the visuals perfectly; The film is punctuated by a sequence of industrial sounds and a dissonant soundtrack that heightens the sense of dread, leaving each scene with a haunting sense of anxiety. Lynch’s innovative use of sound transforms the mundane into the monstrous, amplifying the surreal quality of the film from beginning to end.
This film is open to interpretation. Lynch’s penchant for surrealism allows the audience to project their own fears and anxieties onto the film. Each viewing can yield new insights, making it a very personal experience. Some may interpret the film as a commentary on the burdens of adulthood, while others may see it as a critique of industrialization and its dehumanizing effects.
Lynch’s decision to eschew conventional narrative structure adds to the film’s quality. Scenes often feel disted, reflecting the fragmented nature of dreams and fears. This lack of clear resolution challenges viewers to actively engage with the film, drawing them deeper into its disturbing world. The film also serves as a precursor to Lynch’s later works, such as “Blue Velvet” and “Mulholland Drive,” where similar themes of duality and the darker aspects of humanity are explored. “Eraserhead” is often seen as the foundation of Lynch’s artistic vision, encapsulating his fascination with the grotesque and the uncanny.
Ultimately, “Eraserhead” is an experience—a disturbing journey into the psyche that challenges viewers to confront their deepest fears and anxieties. David Lynch’s bold blend of visual artistry, sound design, and thematic depth creates a work that is both frightening and thought-provoking.

"This world has lost its glory
Let's start a brand new story now, my love
Right now, there'll be no other time
And I can show you all, my love."

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to experience the pure, electric emotion of rock ‘n’ roll in its most iconic form, look no further than “Elvis: That’s the Way It Is.” This musical film captures the essence of Elvis Presley during his triumphant return to the stage in 1970, and let me tell you, it's a breathtaking ride from start to finish. It's all so electric, powerful, explosive and energetic!!
The film features concert footage, rehearsal and backstage footage, and intimate moments that showcase the King in all his glory. From the first note, Elvis is on full display. The opening sequence, featuring the unmistakable “That’s All Right,” immediately draws you into Elvis’ world. His voice is raw and powerful, a perfect blend of grit and soul that sets the tone for the entire film. The orchestration is simply out of this world, the backing band is impressive, but it’s Elvis himself who steals the show. His iconic jumpsuits that shine under the stage lights, his electric dancing, complement his magnetic performance style.
The film also doesn’t shy away from the more intimate moments. We see Elvis interacting with his band, sharing laughs and preparing for his performances — moments that humanize the legend and remind us of the man behind the myth. There’s an incredible segment where he shares the stage with backup singers and musicians, creating an incredible atmosphere between them that adds depth to the concert experience.
One of the standout performances has to be “Suspicious Minds.” You can feel the energy of the audience rising as he pours his heart into every verse. The film captures these moments in an incredible way, transforming what could have been a standard concert into a cinematic experience that has become unique and forever memorable. I love how the camera pans over the fans’ faces, showing them completely enraptured, reminding us of how powerful music can be.
The documentary-style interludes between songs are equally entertaining. Elvis discusses his thoughts on fame, the pressures of the spotlight, and his love of music. These insights provide a window into his complex personality, blending his larger-than-life image with the real struggles of an artist who felt deeply.
Visually, the film is a masterpiece. The cinematography captures the vibe of the 70s, with its warm tones and dynamic camerawork that dances with Elvis’ every move. The editing is seamless, blending concert footage with candid moments that keep the audience engaged at every turn!
“Elvis: That’s the Way It Is” reminds us of the transformative power of music, the joy it brings, and the way it can bring people together. It encapsulates the spirit of rock ‘n’ roll and the enduring legacy of a true icon.

"When I First Saw Joker. When I Saw You… For Once In My Life, I Didn't Feel So Alone Anymore."

"Joker: Folie à Deux" is a bold sequel that delves even deeper into the complexities of the human psyche. The sequel explores the emotional depths of Arthur Fleck, played once again brilliantly by Joaquin Phoenix, now in a musical context that contrasts with the darkness of the first film.
The narrative unfolds with Arthur, where his internal struggle between Arthur's identity and the Joker persona intensifies. The arrival of Harleen “Lee” Quinzel, played by Lady Gaga, brings a new dynamic to the plot, revealing not only Arthur's emotional fragility, but also the complexity of his search for love and acceptance. The themes addressed in this film, such as identity, mental illness, abuse and fantasies, are simply exceptional. These themes, when indirectly shown, make the film choose to show a more sensitive side that we have never seen before in the Joker films. The chemistry between Arthur and Harleen is intense and questionable when it comes to how they feel about each other, but beautiful moments emerge when they end up transforming each scene, each song into a window into Arthur's deepest emotions. While the film is full of intense moments, the choice to distance Lee from the film at certain points can frustrate the exploration of the richness of this relationship, limiting the development that could have been deeper. The story expands beyond a romance, addressing themes of fame and public perception as the line between reality and fantasy becomes increasingly blurred. The pressure to live up to external expectations becomes a burden, reflecting a harsh critique of celebrity culture and its consequences.
Visually, “Joker: Folie à Deux” is a spectacle, combining vibrant colors and each scene with great reflection. The color palette of the film is vibrant and varied, contrasting with the darkness of the first Joker. While the first film adopted darker and more oppressive tones, the sequel incorporates brighter colors, especially in the musical sequences, which serve to express the euphoria and fragility of Arthur and Lee’s feelings. This use of color not only enriches the visual aesthetic, but also helps to highlight the complex emotions that the characters experience.
The musical aesthetic that permeates the film transforms pain and beauty into a disturbing dance, enriching the sensory experience and further enriching the film's atmosphere. However, as the film progresses, it seems that Todd Phillips finds himself hostage to this choice, inserting musical numbers that, although creative, begin to interrupt the flow of the story. The production focuses and delves into deep psychological issues, bringing reflections on mental health and the constant struggle between the true self and the masks we wear. The relationship between Arthur and Lee reveals itself as a dance between hope and despair, where both reflect each other's fears and desires. Throughout the film, we are confronted with the idea that love and pain often go hand in hand, challenging us to understand what it means to live in such a complex and often indifferent world. Arthur and Lee's journey reflects the universal struggles for connection and acceptance, and is a powerful reminder that even in the darkest hours, the light of hope can shine. One of the most interesting questions is the reaction of fans. As a sequel to the 2019 film, expectations vary widely. While some may expect a Joker that is closer to the comics, others may appreciate the focus on exploring trauma and the human psyche. The sequel moves away from the iconic villain many were expecting to see and instead delves deeper into the life of Arthur, a man whose journey is marked by misfortune and despair. This simpler approach offers a new perspective on the character. Rather than being a mere agent of chaos, Arthur is presented as a product of his circumstances, and the film focuses on his suffering and the consequences of his reality. For those who enjoyed the emotional depth of the first film, this sequel may be powerful. However, for those expecting a more classic portrayal of the Joker, there may be a sense of disappointment.
“Joker: Folie à Deux” is not just a sequel; it’s a bold reinvention that provokes deep reflections on the human condition. I can understand people’s negative views on the film, but what they wanted was a cookie-cutter version of an existing film, while Todd Phillips introduces us to a new formula to give us something completely different, unique, and mesmerizing (something I REALLY ire). To fully enjoy this film, you have to understand what you’re going to see and be prepared to suspend your disbelief and let the entire atmosphere of the film and its music completely envelop you. In this sequel, Phillips invites us to look inward, questioning our own histories and the way we shape our identities amidst external pressures. He excels at exploring the human condition, but he risks alienating those who seek a Joker closer to the character’s comic book origins. The experience is complex and multifaceted, and while it may not be perfect, it certainly provokes reflections on love, pain, and the fragility of the human mind. Ultimately, empathy and the ability to feel connect us, revealing that behind every exterior lies a rich story about every human experience.
It’s an anti-super-hero, anti-comic-book movie, maybe not a fanboy pleaser, but something of a wow for the rest of us.

TOP 100 GREATEST MUSICALS

"Maybe I'm surprised by the way you're with me all the time
And maybe I'm scared by the way I leave you
Maybe I'm surprised by the way you help me sing my song
Correct me when I'm wrong
And maybe I'm surprised by the way I really need you."

If you're looking for a dose of musical magic, "One Hand Clapping" is your ticket to a whirlwind trip back to 1974 with Paul McCartney and Wings! This newly restored, high-energy rockumentary takes us behind the scenes at Abbey Road as McCartney and the gang prepare their next big project — an album that would sadly never see the light of day. But that's okay, because what we get instead is an hour of pure joy and music! The film serves as both a nostalgia trip and a fresh perspective on McCartney's remarkable artistry, seamlessly blending live studio magic with a casual backstage vibe. From the moment the film begins, it's clear that McCartney is a force of nature. His unfiltered enthusiasm and musical genius shine through in every note and interaction. Even after The Beatles broke up, he exudes a deep understanding of pop music’s past and present. It’s hard to believe he’s still a young man here; his grasp of pop history seems almost otherworldly. You can practically see the musical notes spinning in his head! Watching him effortlessly navigate Wings classics and early McCartney compositions feels like a masterclass in musicianship. (Something I, as a musician, always pay close attention to.) Standout moments include a breathtaking rendition of “Live and Let Die,” complete with a full orchestra and the charismatic presence of a white-tailed conductor. This performance alone encapsulates the grandeur of McCartney’s vision. Equally enchanting is his intimate piano performance of “Suicide,” a haunting piece written when he was just 14 years old. Seriously, how can one person have so much talent? One of the film’s most delightful surprises is the mini-concert McCartney performs in his backyard, casually strumming his guitar and channeling the spirit of rock ‘n’ roll legends. His reinterpretation of Eddie Cochran’s “Twenty Flight Rock” transforms the upbeat classic into a mesmerizing slow jam, showcasing his ability to breathe new life into familiar songs. It feels like you’ve been invited to an exclusive jam session with a legend, and it feels incredibly intimate. It’s moments like these that reveal McCartney’s genuine love for music, as he effortlessly blends nostalgia with innovation.
The film is peppered with humorous asides, including drummer Geoff Britton’s antics in his karate gear, which add a touch of lightheartedness and lightheartedness to the studio proceedings. These moments serve to remind us that behind the art is a camaraderie and partnership between the band .
Ultimately, “One Hand Clapping” captures the spirit of a time when music was not just a career, but a joyful exploration of sound. As McCartney and Wings navigate their artistic journey, showcasing their creative side, viewers are gifted with the power of music to connect, inspire and entertain. Whether you're a longtime fan or new to the McCartney legacy, this film is a huge invitation to experience the brilliance of one of music's true legends.

Wow, it’s unbelievable that it’s been 31 years since "Dazed and Confused" was released. This film is a complete journey through teenage life in the 70s that perfectly captures the essence of youth, friendship, and the pursuit of fun! That said, I decided to rewatch it to write a review for you guys!

"I call it the "every other decade" theory. The 50's were boring. The 60's rocked. The 70's, my god, they obviously suck. So maybe the 80s will be like, radical. I figure we'll be in our 20's and hey, it can't get any worse."

From the moment "Dazed and Confused" begins, you’re greeted with a killer soundtrack that’s practically a time machine. Think classic rock anthems that will have you bobbing your head and tapping your toes (or playing imaginary guitar in your living room). With songs that define the era, it’s impossible not to get caught up in the beat.
The characters? They’re a quirky collection of high school archetypes, each more relatable than the last. You’ve got the cool kids, the nerds, the rebels, and the sweethearts, all navigating that wonderfully awkward last day of school.
One of the film’s greatest triumphs is its ability to capture those fleeting moments of teenage life—the thrill of sneaking into a party, the agony of peer pressure, and the euphoric high of summer freedom. The dialogue is funny, bawdy, and filled with memorable one-liners. The humor is top-notch, too—this film balances laugh-out-loud moments with an authentic portrayal of teenage dilemmas, creating a recipe for pure fun. You’ll find yourself laughing, cringing, and reminiscing all at once, making it an emotional rollercoaster.
Richard Linklater’s direction is pure magic. The laid-back vibe and shots of suburban Texas at sunset are enough to make anyone nostalgic for simpler times. It’s a visual homage to the ’70s, drenched in sunny colors and carefree spirit.
So, gather your friends, pop some popcorn, and dive into this classic that reminds us all that no matter how old we get, we will always cherish those dazed and confused moments of our own teenage years.
Happy 31st birthday, "Dazed and Confused"! Here's to many more years of laughter, memories, and good vibes!

“There’s been a slight misuse of the substance.”

“The Substance” is a bold work that blends body horror and social critique into a provocative narrative. The film stands out for its grotesque and sexy aesthetic, harking back to cinematic masters such as David Cronenberg and Stanley Kubrick. Coralie Fargeat doesn’t shy away from exploring the depths of desire and decadence, creating a visual spectacle that defies convention. "The Substance" isn’t particularly subtle in its message: Hollywood has a preference for chewing people up and spitting them out; growing old in an industry that demands youthful vitality to move the product is horrifying and dehumanizing. And yet writer-director Coralie Fargeat never strays from a fundamental truth of filmmaking, namely that the camera loves beauty and the audience is hungry for desire.
The story revolves around Elisabeth Sparkle, an iconic fitness presenter who, after a dismal birthday and a devastating review, finds herself on a desperate quest for rejuvenation. The script is both witty and irreverent, capturing the inner struggle of a woman obsessed with physical perfection in a world that doesn’t forgive the age of time.
Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley’s performances are truly impressive, bringing to life a complex dynamic between the two versions of the same character. While Elisabeth struggles with her insecurities, her younger counterpart, Sue, emerges as a symbol of the unattainable ideal of beauty. The film explores this duality in depth, revealing society’s obsession with youth and aesthetics.
With lush cinematography, “The Substance” uses striking close-ups that highlight both the beauty and fragility of female bodies. While the film takes risks in places and occasionally becomes predictable, its message is clear. Fargeat offers a scathing critique of beauty culture, revealing women’s internal struggles with unsustainable standards and the social pressures that surround them.
Overall, “The Substance” is an exciting and provocative cinematic experience, challenging audiences to reflect on beauty standards and the relentless pursuit of validation. Beauty is subjective, and what people consider beautiful exists on a broad spectrum. The problem is that society’s beauty standards only occupy a slice of that spectrum. “The Substance” explores what happens when someone in the top 1% finds themselves on the outside looking in. It’s a film that leaves a mark, making it an essential addition to the horror canon.
, if you enjoy a body horror film that maintains a semblance of logic in its plot, then “The Substance,” being grotesque ang gory, may not be the film for you.

"Fuck the rest of them
Fuck 'em all
Fuck 'em all, but us".

“Dinner in America” is an anarchic, comedic journey that celebrates the weird, the flawed, and the rebellious. The film throws convention out the window, trading predictability for a raw, authentic experience that pulses with the spirit of punk rock. It’s a love letter to the outcast, wrapped in barbed wire and set to the sound of defiance.
The film follows the unlikely duo of Simon, an unapologetically abrasive punk rocker with a disdain for authority, and Patty, a socially awkward young woman who seems to not fit in with the everyday. Their worlds collide in a way that seems random at first, but soon evolves into something magnetic and deeply authentic and personal. The brilliance of the film lies in how it takes these two seemingly mismatched characters and builds a connection between them that feels chaotic and genuine.
Their relationship is the heart of the film and drives the narrative with a perfect blend of dark humor, vulnerability, and defiance.
The dialogue is sharp, often hilarious, and always sarcastic. It’s this combination of brutal honesty and tender moments that sets “Dinner in America” apart from other indie films. The characters aren’t polished; they’re rebellious, flawed, and human, which only adds to the authenticity of the film and each character.
The cinematography showcases the frenetic energy of its soundtrack—loud, brash, and radical. The punk rock score becomes a character in itself, amplifying the film’s themes of rebellion and individuality, making each scene feel like a pulse of youthful, anarchic energy.
What also really sets “Dinner in America” apart for me is its portrayal of loneliness and connection. Beneath the surface of the punk chaos and edgy humor, the film explores the idea that even the most isolated and misunderstood people can find comfort in one another. It’s a way of showing us that we can find beauty in the unconventional and strength in vulnerability, told in a voice that refuses to conform.
In a world where so many films follow formulaic paths, “Dinner in America” stands out on its own. Raw, loud and full of heart, it’s a film for anyone who’s ever felt like an outsider, but also for those who find the extraordinary in life’s imperfections.
It’s a story about love, not in the typical sense, but the kind of love that grows in the cracks of society’s expectations — fragmented, unapologetic and real.

In celebration of the list's 100 likes, I decided to transform the "My Top 10 Favorites Musicals" list into a "Top 100 Greatest Musicals".
I hope you enjoy, have fun, dance and sing a lot with the films on this list! 💃🕺

Thank you all!! ❤️

• La La Land
• Saturday Night Fever
• The Trouble with Girls
• All That Jazz
• Hair
• Footloose
• Dirty Dancing
• Tommy
• Easy Come, Easy Go
• Grease

...plus 90 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.