There isn't a single thing in this film that I couldn't possibly love.
But it is more a love letter to the franchise than anything new. I mean, they made Cailee Spaeny's face in the space helmet look indistinguishable from Sigourney's at one point. This is how far.
I did't know it was an adaptation. I started to suspect that it was after a couple of flasbacks and maybe a subplot I could't figure out. But it never became a problem, really. I loved so many things about this film.
Nothing. Nothing can compare to the pre-60's score, including this echo of reminiscene. After Nashville it's gone.
If there is a name for such dichotomy, it will be Herrmann vs Morricone. The depth of the sublte dynamics that creates a space so deep that the image splits beyond the possibilities of vision. Like the empty red corridor when Philip is headed downstairs, the orchestra expands this space beyond infinity.
When the Bruce Willis guy in 12 Monkeys enters the auditorium…
The 70s movies, regardless of the region, are so diverse that even after having read a dozen of reviws (and having whatched dozens of others) I still couldn't expect the unpredictability of this. Like it really is always about two steps ahead of me and incredibly suspensful.
I cannot express my love for it right now, so I'll focus on what puzzles me.
1. If her death a mere metaphor, the head of the cutout caught between the doors a…
