A profoundly devastating document of suffering that boils the blood. We need activists, documentarians, and journalists more than ever. Most of all, we need to stop excusing evil (when we should be focused on extinguishing it).
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Prison on Fire 1987
I worship at the altar of my god, Chow Yun-Fat, and this film was a freaking unhinged baptism.
Unlike its other HK counterparts at the time, there's nothing romantic or honorable about Prison on Fire. Its filthy, it's grimy, it's sweaty. This colorful cast of characters are either two-faced backstabbers or murder-happy lunatics who can flip a switch at the drop of a dime. It is the anti-heroic bloodshed.
As the third act crescendos into a no holds barred riot,…
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Apocalypse Now 1979
I was told about how my Great-Grandmother was murdered in Vietnam when I was very young. She was killed by American soldiers riding in a helicopter one afternoon when she was tending to her garden — as my young Bà Nội watched her own mother perish while she was hiding underneath the floorboards of her house. These nightmarish images seared in my mind made the "iconic" Ride of the Valkyries sequence all the more unnerving.
I have yet to watch…
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Anora 2024
Vancouver International Film Festival 2024
I've grown to admire Sean Baker's work over the years, and him as a person for championing and capturing the unheard and the unseen through a naturalistic and dignified lens.
This one I don't get, and I don't get how he got here. As the festival smoke settled, I was left feeling empty and confounded by the universal praise for what is, ultimately, a weightless cartoon.
For all of Mikey Madison's efforts, Anora was unjustly a secondary character in her own story (a very scream-y and shout-y story with an offensively regressive ending).
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