I hadn't got around to watching this until now. Included on the Criterion release of Lost Highway, it partly serves as a peek behind the curtain of how that film was made, but also, and quite aptly, a celebration of the kindness, unique spirit and affable nature of the enigma, David Lynch.
I'd heard the reports of his declining health, and I don't think the news has fully landed for me just yet, but today is quite a sad day…
Ingmar Bergman movies about people who can't communicate well and are afraid of vulnerability and emotions is my favourite genre because it reminds me of my real life.
Thanks, Ingmar.
Like if Charlie Kaufman was put in a David Lynch script with a whole bunch of the Coens projecting and airing their grievances with the Hollywood system.
I could write more, but as it stands I'm still associating the symbols and working it out. I get it broadly, but the specifics are puzzling
This is the type of movie - to a fault - that Barbie parodied. The first Princess diaries told a relatable coming-of-age story with some conscious attention paid to its ethics and dilemmas, yet its sequel throws all of that away in favour of the most generic and poorly-aged romance story with shoe-horned cameos from the prequel and other Disney channel shows of the era. Very little realistic or believable conflict, many characters with no personality who just serve as…
I don't think I can say much about this without spoiling the incredible experience this film was. Some quick things, though:
Having seen most of Kore-eda's other films, I thought I had a fairly decent idea of what to expect heading into this, yet I was forced to abandon these pre-conceptions about half an hour in.
This is probably my favourite film of 2023.
I think this might be Kore-eda's best film. At the very least, it has become my new favourite.
One day when I’m old, I want some lovely young girl to say to me, “Tell me, where in your long life, Mr. Craster, were you most happy?” And I shall say, ‘Well, my dear, I never knew the exact place. It was somewhere on the Mediterranean. I was with Victoria Page.” “What?” she will say. “Do you mean the famous dancer?” I will nod. “Yes, my dear, I do. Then she was quite young, comparatively unspoiled. We were, I…
