And now, a mini LFF Roundup
Some rapid fire reviews for films I was less enthused by...
So yes, LFF is over, and with it, Festival season. I have so much to say about the field this year - not just for the ~awards, but about what this year of festival film seems to be communicating to us about trends in narrative, and those who are bringing those narratives to the screen.
If you or anyone you know want to hear about the patterns I've picked up in the last 6 months, we have a piece coming out soon, so you should subscribe for free to our Mailing list and get it direct to your inbox.
In the meantime – some films I saw this year that I have less than 100 words to say about, and that didn't quite "WOW" me.
The Mastermind (Dir. Kelly Reichardt)
I believe this is a skill issue on my end – this is the Reichardt-ian style, which didn't fulfil me. It was a whole bunch of nothing (complimentary) - a good arthouse time at the cinema where you get to see Josh O'Connor in his underwear for nearly the entire runtime. It has something to say about male isolationism and the drive to greatness, but not much that's new on the subject.
Die my love
It looks as if Ramsay went super abstract with this one – to the point, I feel, that the lack of point of view rendered the film confused, instead of confusing. I knew there was a level of sincere and clear empathy for our protagonist, but beyond this, there wasn't much more to infer to the madness. This film needed to putt to one extreme or the other – get more abstract, employ more overt symbolism, or define more clearly the viewpoint. Again, it seems this is Ramsay's style – not to have a point of view, and to let you decide for yourself – but I was unable to make sense of the film enough to have a point of view, so the entire thing faded to the back of my mind quite quickly.
Dreams
Jessica Chastain's Berlinale darling - an absolutely stunning film that trips on its final choice – using sexual assault as a metaphor. This was a real shame, because the film really truly didn't need that scene, and genuinely shot itself in the foot morally. It didn't trivialise the assault, which is good, I guess – instead, it attempted to draw an equivalence between the violation of Deportation and violation within relationships. It was clumsy, it was messy, it wasn't worth it.
To all the films I missed before
Sentimental Value still eludes me, as does Fucktoys, Pillion, Nouvelle Vague & the Springsteen biopic. I'm hearing very little about most of these, except for the first, which is poised to do a golden turn in the next few months.
As the autumn turns to winter, we're due some absolutely amazing cinema, and I can't wait for all of you to see The Testament of Ann Lee and Hedda, Hamnet, Frankenstein, Wake up Dead Man and many more.
