"You didn't invent my sadness"
This is the film that C'mon C'mon wishes it was. Cรฉline Sciamma doesn't need intellectual posturing or a smug display of artistic self-indulgence to get across her point. She is able to navigate enormous, weighty topics in the smallest, most intimate of ways. This poignant minimalism is at the heart of every one of her films and never has it been more effective than here, her most stripped-back film to date.
Framing first and second-handโฆ
A claustrophobic chamber piece. A psychological horror. An unconventional haunted house tale. All things that you wouldn't expect from a film about Princess Diana but then we've come to expect the unexpected from a Pablo Larraรญn biopic.
Once again blurring the lines between fact and fiction, Larraรญn gets under your skin by breaking down our own perceived reality to show the hidden reality of his subject. Distant yet astonishingly intimate, he builds up a solid artifice only to knock itโฆ
Never gets old. Something new to cackle at or admire on every rewatch. Ryan and Babs the hottest duo to ever screwball.
This was so underwhelming I almost forgot to log it. Like the tour itself, it was laboured and sterile. Maybe that was the point? Or not. I'm not sure I even care. The two main characters felt less like real people and more like stand-ins for the two sides of Jesse Eisenberg's personality. It's probably why Keiran Culkin's performance didn't quite land for me either. It seemed like he couldn't fully pin his character down which is more an issue with the writing and directing tbh. Did absolutely nothing for me, sorry!
Having just recently finished the book, this was my first foray into Dune on screen and what a feast for the eyes it was. Visually stunning, even at its most bleak and forboding. I legit welled up during the sandworm harvester scene because it was so well crafted I couldn't believe what I was watching. The scale of it all. The detail in the design. It's a jawdropping feat of filmmaking.
But in pursuit of such visual perfection, some ofโฆ
It's little wonder the Presley estate refused to licence the music for this film; Coppola pulls no punches, portraying the man without perpetuating the myth. Yet the absence of Elvis' music also works in its favour, creating a void for the viewer that becomes emblematic of Priscilla's growing detachment, isolation, and loss of self. A void that is filled so deeply by an achingly poignant performance from Cailee Spaeny and a surprisingly nuanced turn from Jacob Elordi.
Heart-wrenchingly thoughtful inโฆ
