Da 5 Bloods
On the Record
I May Destroy You
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George had pushed himself in the previous chapter. This seems like overstretching things. Now, does that pay off? Come on, that's subjective. But, no.
Day Of The Dead
I, or anyone for that matter, would be and should be austere towards the writer and director George Romero's beloved zombie-defining trend-setting horror franchise. It comes with a lot of expectations. It should deliver considering the hype and momentum it carries. Now, unlike others I tend to not lean on the subject that is shown but rather the way it is shown. So for a satirical psychological horror thriller franchise as such, I will take the most remote-est storyline of this world. And I mean, break the genre, bend the rules, change the formula and isolate yourself as far as you can from the gold mine that I, we, George knows, should be a safer ground. In fact, make it everything listed before. This hotchpotch of ingredients should be the recipe. And though, George does not and may never combine these many risky factors, he is, I think, in his own way, breaking the established ground. What made these "dead" so infamously ruthless and grossly scary, he has tried to lop off that very subject matter. "He could be domesticated!" George, talking about one of the ghouls, pleads to his audience through a character and their slips the glass out of his hand. What made his formula so unique, is bashed with a hammer. The aim is good. He practised hard. But on that. Just that stroke. Another issue, is of course, the way the rest of the blank is filled, the time is spent. It is the same blood dripping, spraying all over, organs pouring out imageries that gets better as an achievement in technical procedure on how it works. Not in storytelling. That part is the same. Overcooked.
Noah has me choked up for the entire runtime of his thundering masterpiece. This profound experience is so rare, that it has happened to me only once. In Marriage Story.
The writer and director, Noah Baumbach is spewing love. Not the usual way of expressing. But then, miscommunication is a major factor in this film. He is sugar-coating or bitter-coating a love story, by deconstructing, reverse-engineering a love story. Although that is what it seems at first. The film, above all, wonder me the most, is when it balances both sides of the coin. Every now and then, I think about what happened, why we are here, just as those characters do. It all makes sense and nothing fits despite the description, the definition. And still you don't feel cheated. And Noah dodged that bullet so effortlessly that you- at certain points in the film, even when there is no particularly emotional hurdle to cross- melt with a cathartic smile and tears, in its simple wittiness. The film deliberately follows Adam Driver's perspective. Now, that is a perfect choice, considering he "is walking on" something that he doesn't fully understand, just like us, the audience. Hence, he comes off warm and even pitiful at times, more than he actually might be or should. For following Scarlett Johanson would have come off calculative rather than spontaneous. Not something that the film wants to put out. It is vulnerable phenomena to be in. And to experience it, you should be out of control. Desperation is what drives the greed. And greed, something you keep it off the table from Day 1, is what it will come to. Not materialistic but philosophical. You'd want to be how you think of yourself to be. And in these scenarios where you are highly conscious of your decisions and acts. Legacy (Henry, in their case) is what you hold on to or at least fight for, now that you are sober.
As far as the scares are concerned, I am not scared. Lucky for George, he has plenty of other colors to paint this wall with something else.
Dawn Of The Dead
If Night Of The Living Dead is confined, specific, Dawn Of The Dead is all over the place. Showcasing all the repercussions and boasting all the showcased scenarios. For the second one, the writer and director, George Romero is pushing himself along with the storyline. The social satire, just like and unlike the previous chapter, has aged well. Though the previous chapter didn't value what is currently prioritised, it surely on the other hand whips what we shouldn't value. That analysis or theory of the film is represented visually and is stated with an isolated personality which is personified as a part of a branch of a structure. If not character driven, these scenarios in its world wouldn't hold any place. But this is where George takes his time. He enjoys these moments. And this idea is scary. Something that translates to the filmmaker itself. If there is no joy, you are not emotionally attached, you are not tapping to their beat and not bobbing your head to their plans, you will never survive. And to survive is to be gifted in this film. The very thought of an escape is celebrated. And just like the franchise always does, the humans are the troubled bodies bouncing inside these walls. Them taking things for granted, overconfidence in their capabilities and exploitation of the gifts of nature. You see even after we are dead, we are a slave to that cycle. It keeps spinning and is eating us alive or even dead in this case. There are similar patterns in their behaviour, heavily armoured or numbingly defensive, it's eventually the same thing.
The arrogance, the miscommunication is horrifying. There is no deal, nothing on the table, no table at all. Everything is up for grabs and burns.
Night Of The Living Dead
Among many filmmakers achieving their own various milestones in their first project, this one could be the ideal example, the milestone of that sub genre list- if there is any! The co-writer and director, George A. Romero has a poetic speech. Even rhyming, I would persist. Leaving all the evolutions of ghouls or zombies or whatnot aside, I would like to focus on the structure of the script. It is better if you understand the intentional poem behind all the scenarios in order to truly enjoy this could-arguably-be called popcorn flick. But there is much more than entertainment. Yes, you will get the occasional scare, the hair pulling annoyance to not be able to control and a classic game of pitting one chip against another. But this is one page poem. Written with a mirroring symmetry. It has a start and a finish. Something you won't be able to differentiate. And all the elements in the script is brimming with this ingredient. The dialogues, the intentions, the faulty logistics, worn out philosophises and now even the political incorrectness, some might point out. If someone doesn't get along they would start their equation through that very formula. And even end on it. Their salvation relies upon each other's theories and so does damnation, but then there is arrogance in the air. This eye-for-actually-nothing world hungrily feeds on upright abusive nature. The drapes are off and the humility, sociality comes off shamelessly. The living is scarier than dead ever will be. For in this Night Of The Living Dead, your companions are not only dumb, cold, rancid species (just as you are) but also has a motif. Greedy motives. There always is. It is human to be. Not zombies.
Jillian Bell works hard. Both as a character and for the character. And by hard, I mean, they mean, watch her go through this pound by pound.
Brittany Runs A Marathon
For Paul Downs Colaizzo, the writer and director, this is an incredible achievement. Almost as if participating and winning the marathon. This is something he has done the first time and he is hitting all the right notes. And I am even going to call this one, a crowd pleaser. Now, not only doesn't it just uses a concept that is common and often lightly taken. But even his take has a particular new spin, a new angle- even the cinematography helps a lot when it shoots those new ideas on screen and you see a completely odd frame suggesting the birth of that notion- that is meticulously charged. The camera work focuses, crops and sharpens those details, enhancing this familiar tale into a bright New York morning of social media world. It specifically focuses on a definite crowd and yet comes off for everyone. Now, that is definitely not for the diplomatic approach of it; for there are a couple of scenes that might suggest it. But it is the tendency of that graph to always, and mind you always, land on something you'd expect. From the montage sequences that rises up to the unnerving meltdowns that we all are looking forward to. Aforementioned, within these 100 minutes, the film touches all those sweet notes delicately on the floor. And by the time, Brittany Runs A Marathon, that floor, the track has been more of a habit, than a home. Not a habit you cannot push yourself away from but the ones you create consciously. Among many, many supporting characters, my favourite is her, Bell's roommate, showcasing one of the most common and least represented groups of people in the movies, that we actually survive daily.
The Hoax is nothing like you'd expect. Sort of like the very definition of the title. Hey! There's your first clue. They are getting things right.
Lasse Hallstrom, the director, is an optimistic fellow. He has to be. Or so he projects himself as. Armed with a bizarre true story and even ridiculously funny script. The film easily has ten moments, steps in each act of the film that drops your jaw in the air. Now, that is a good script. But I think what Lasse does here is something much smarter and efficient. You'd think that after a while, the shock therapy would grow weary. But where there were supposed to be "mehs" there is perpetually an awe. And his first way in, is through the pace. It moves with a ferocious speed, even at times neglecting characters and their priorities. Lucky for them, they have a great cast and equally great performances in their side, especially Alfred Molina as the "co-author". There is another major improvement in the film and it is how meticulous it is. You'd think that a film like such, of such genre, that displays time passing by rapidly will rely upon montage sequences and a train of various scenarios whooshing in front of us. And instead we get proper hand picked set pieces driving carelessly in this safe street. Which makes me think about the genre, now. "The comedy" genre of the film is actually a major contributor in the dramatic elements. We get the essence of sketchy scenes. Now, where we draw lines in comic films are completely different then where we would draw in dramatic ones. Lasse pushes back and forth between these genres to make the most absurd plot swallow with delight in our face and the most mundane requirement feel like responsibility. That is what it all comes to, responsibility.
War Dogs is in many ways a mistake. A good, admirable one. But nonetheless a mistake. Almost as if Jonah Hill's character is going to deny or defend it.
The co-writer and director Todd Phillips makes a wannabe Adam McKay alike biography. Unfortunately, it is not smart. It is not sensible. What it is, is light on feet. And that's a double edged sword. That is not to say that when the time comes the film fails to draw in necessary emotions. Though not powerful, that pull you feel towards these characters is through performance and not the way it is portrayed. Phillips is smart enough to realize that within the next four lines the script asks him to shift the tone in a snap. What he then does, is make us walk through long one shot elaborated scenes that puts us right into the middle of the desert- often, literally! This is how the film remains to be for the most part of its run. You see each of these artists, on screen, straining themselves to achieve something higher from the script that never even existed in the first place. There is disappointment. Dissatisfaction comes from the incompleteness. Certain expectations are built in this completely-new-world, for the audience, and we are repeatedly shot down. We never get to seal the deal. The good scenes are overpowered by the dull ones and its muddy speech, is somehow, the spine of the film. How will it stand tall, then? Even Todd who is exceptional in sliding in his sense of humour, fails to cook its content into favoured crisp texture. Neither are these dogs trustworthy, nor are they an important piece of the puzzle at war times. If anything they are the ones spoiling the definition, the meaning behind all of it; if there is!
This theory is more convincing. It is humble and confident in its logistics. I bought it because they weren't selling it.
The writer and director Scott Z. Burns has returned after a while in the director's chair with an effective procedure and one and only one thing in his mind. Politics. While the film mostly works tediously on the journalism, the crux of the plot is puppeteered by the politics. It is framed as a part of democracy, war, partition and correction. These corrections are actually massively hungry in its nature. It pushes every party into believing that they are right. They might be pushing few boundaries and bending a few rules as a part of an excuse that they call it as their contribution in fighting against the evil. And though everyone is aiming for peace. This very difference, in every step, makes our unsung hero stand tall. And it is an unsettling feeling that we have. We gravitate towards him like some typical western genre hero would pull us. Adam Driver is on a surreal run. He is stretching his bones and begging for us to read The Report that he has written. There is unfathomable hard work and unfiltered devotion to be right. And then comes the force outside this circle that tries to pop out this bubble with all the schemes it can think of. Which then creates what could be described as this king and slave dynamics. This equivalency of owning others' birth rights does not only gets on theirs but our nerves too. The performance nourishes those sentiments with beautiful language in which Burns paints their emotions. The only regret of mine are the dark cringing images that the film projects. It can be too much to handle. To be fair, I shouldn't have been eating that bucket of ice cream while watching it.
Todd's welcoming gift to this article alike film is important. Grammatically incorrect and even lofty in its speech. But suitably important and that is enough to peddle.
The director Todd Haynes's desk is under tons and tons of paper. The challenging ones are shuffled in a two hour narration and sprinkled incoherently as opposed to a proper structure. It is very rare to see a film that is directed by someone and written by someone else and still lacks a definite pattern. Maybe that is the pattern or simply I don't get it- it's usually the latter one, trust me. But what Todd needs primarily is steadiness. Accepting the calmness, the patience that a job like such offers. Waiting for the formality to settle in and then stir the soup. He is just not ready to let it sit for a while. What we then get is always, everything is said to be in motion, no matter how inedible it grows. It is preposterous how the family drama, the conflict that could have easily rattled you, instead just disenchants you from buying into what they care about. It takes a lot of time for them to finally get into our head, almost in its final act, do we get to sit and mourn, meaningfully. To be honest, I am also going to blame the lack of chemistry between Anne Hathaway and Mark Ruffalo. Ruffalo who is basically a wild bear wearing a suit with manners and etiquette like some member of a White House joining for a big dinner, Hathaway unfortunately feels too sober to enjoy and let it affect her. She is simply not open enough. She had to hold the inner "warning" monologue of Ruffalo and instead she is found to be a delicious side dish that just doesn't fit into this cruel chemically conspired world.
You think of it and you see it. You catch Rian plotting something, he catches you back with a grin observing the truth. This goes unmentioned and every second, for two hours.
The writer and director Rian Johnson has all the attention he would want from me. Actually, more than he can imagine. And maybe that is why his film communicates so intensely to me. It has been my whole life watching films and I don't think ever has a filmmaker outdone himself or herself every time. Every time I go through this mechanical factory of Johnson and I come out with a page of poem in my hand. Johnson's film is not just good but also impeccably difficult to resist, to dislike. The entire film is the pulp. The scheme. There is no bite. No structure. No sleazy attitude or excuse that tells you, the audience, to go through necessary changes, developments of storytelling and asks you to sit by as it sets every set pieces one by one. From the minute you enter this house, it's a GO. This high calibered cast is skillfully juggled and stirred with their whisk of borderline offensive humor. You are told to sit in the middle of a dinner table and you are pushed like some prop of a game as these shady rich brats lashes you, charges you with upright white lies formed.. poorly! What? The distractions aren't distracting enough? Johnson is way ahead in this game. You can't even see him let alone catch him. He has staged the film within a few days, a short period of time. It's all temporary. Things, behaviour, intentions flickers faster than a broken tubelight. Just as his films are. You have to be up to date with the current intentions, suggestions, innuendos of the film. For the film is, both politically and wickedly strong. Never preachy but always on the mark. Knives Out is potent, ambitious and inspiring.
So what do you do when you have defined the genre, sealed it tight, preserved with time that keeps mining excelsior from it. You open the bottle, says Marty.
The director Martin Scorsese tells his story, his perspective, his unbiased take visually. He is one of the few directors alive and working passionately, hungrily(!)- You'd think that maturity over the years would decay his obsession, but he is latched onto that young man's game like any other new filmmaker trying to make his or her mark.- and sophisticatedly that brought the "catalyst" element into the TO-DO list of a director. I mean, think about it, his films spend more time on slow motion shots,- in this said-overly-long-but-you-don't-actually-want-shorter runtime the slow motion takes are basically the front page cover that comes in like fliers in such biographies- elaborated jokes and dead silence where Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and Al Pacino alike dicey actors chews the script paper, the rest of the blah-blah historical events are fast forwarded with long physical sequences. Now if you look into those thousands and thousands of storyboards, Marty though not writing the script; the screenwriter Steven Zaillian did a fabulous job, is in control of the film more than you'd imagine. Never have I seen his film, where a footage falls short or the displayed images fall flat. Everything hits the sweet spot right into your heart. And this one, the most. Especially for me. The Irishman is a surprisingly satisfying and oddly a perfect end; if he makes it his last of the gangster genre, to all the films that he has piled upon his desk. The show that is placed so delicately in front of us, is neither an answer to escape nor salvation nor payback nor some bloodlusted revenge. It is exactly what Marty did, does. Remembering those times, simply that. The final act is one of the finest things I have experienced in recent times.
So actually what it is, is Alec Baldwin and Anthony Hopkins coversing, interviewing each other about acting. Come on, that can never be disappointing. Scruffy and earnest.
The director Lee Tamahori didn't have to make this '90s action thriller in the '90s. Just the close up shots, the lofty script, ambitious cast, the ruffian look and tense environment screams to be placed under that category. I miss these kind of films. For me, there is a real earthiness that lost in our materialistic and cgi world. It is practical filmmaking to its capacity. And there are no regrets. I mean, there is a fight between a bear and a man. How did this happen? When did we start losing the touch of reality in the filmmaking process? And whilst the crisp editing, sharp sound effects and effectful performances make a brilliant case to be glued on the seat, what got a hold of me is the relationship between Anthony and Alec. What they share is truly innocent and unapologetic and wild in those woods. There is a sense of comradery that comes alive from the fact of their equation. Remember, official equation. The employer employee, the mentor mentee, the brotherhood is what helps them and us survive. Another major achievement of the film is how attached the characters and the world of these fellows are, to the practical life they have been detached by in this disaster. Usually the plot skips and leaps along with the characters that shows almost a new, different, questionable personality when left out in such wilderness. But here, Anthony just through his eyes whispers to us that he still is part of a community, society. He is bound and protected by laws. The Edge, to me, is that edge. That border that they hover around, survive around but never break.
Decades ago, we wanted more of Tom. Nothing has changed, the good nature, the sheer brilliance, the gifted talent that he is. We still want, need more of Tom.
A Beautiful Day In The Neighbourhood
The director Marielle Heller has never seen a fall. And the way she is going with, there will never come a day. Only because she has got style. Now, I know that watching this film or reading the logline of it or even thinking of the genre it drills in, "style" is not what you would imagine is her way in. And though it is not, she cannot help herself glorify the emotional journey that these characters are going through. Just walk yourself again with Matthew Rhys and how he drinks in the surrounding of his. Whenever the film transcends from one scene to another, the models of buildings in the city and bridges and cars in traffic and whatnot location are displayed resonating a clean if surprising message. It took me a while to fully understand the intentions; not that I still do, of the makers. For there comes a time when these characters do jump outside the four walls, we get to experience the outer world. But also at that time we are told that we are delusional if we think, this is what we are seeing. For Rhys is delusional. The film completely relies upon his body language, his facial expression, his practical perspective. When he first encounters Tom Hanks kneeled down, probably uncomfortable, puppeteering and singing a song or when the background score takes the charge of the film as Rhys rattles the cage hungrily or when he is told to be silent or metaphorically to calm down, we are with him, trembling on our feet. Tom's presence remains just like the role of Fred Rogers in our life. He comes in bits and pieces, episodically and enlightens what is already A Beautiful Day In The Neighbourhood.
The film has an extremely tedious routine that it begs us to go through. All the amazing fireworks moments are just not amazing enough to distract us.
To call the director Gore Verbenski's "adventurous" film an oddball is.. actually, perfect. You wouldn't get more "out of the box" version of a textbook con-this-con-everything film. The script feels improvised in every sense. The storyline follows a familiar, expected, often dull structure and the elements spiraling out the treats of the film or the originality- if we can call it that- of the film through adding a punchline to that very scene. Every scene, in fact, is staged and written in a form that looks like it is trying to dodge an unmentioned bullet. And that bullet is not shot out from the gun The Mexican but their own version of police from the subconscious department that never allows them to state what is in front of them. The physical sequences along with the verbal too, then goes round and round, making a tomfoolery out of it- that by the way is the joke of it all, especially Brad Pitt's character who as always is amazing in such sketchy roles- rather than confronting its fear. And when it finally accepts what it has to do, that it is time to be itself, completely, naked and upright. Those moments is what you will cherish. Fortunately, Julia Roberts and James Gandolfini have those moments in their pocket. Their eerie bonding and the nature of feeding on each others' incompetence makes this drive safe and fruitful. Gandolfini shines from all corners commanding the screen like never before. You have got to have something special when you come out as the star from a project where Brad and Julia are at the helm of it all.
Hence, Minority Report feels like the first headline you read in the morning newspaper. It's a good feeling.
Spielberg felt in a rush, to me. Maybe he was following Cruise. It is not the first time one of his films has been a victim of this phenomenon and it won't be the last if it will be dealt like this. The director Steven Spielberg occasionally does dip into the entertainment pool to expand his filmography. And as always we have left the screen satisfied and amazed at the spectacle that he puts enormous effort into. Those details pay off just like it does here. And while I am satisfied with the product, never for a second it convinced me that this is coming straight from Spielberg's vision. Don't get me wrong, there are few details added in the film regarding the futuristic materially rich world and the style and efficiency it comes with. But something doesn't add up. While the ambition is big, the reasoning felt short to me. For instance, I can understand the incompetence of the film to fully craft a nail biting chase sequence involving jet packs. But what I had issues with are cereal boxes that are animated. Sort of like, from the magical world of JK Rowling. These pictures animate and they endorse themselves perfectly. Just like the film does of Spielberg's sci-fi workshop. The emotional storage is empty, this time. In that sequence itself, Tom Cruise mourning over his son and the memories that he revisits feels misplaced and poorly choreographed. Yes, it could be argued that he is a stress eater and what not. But it then, doesn't communicate with us properly like it should have. The film in such ways repeatedly undermines what could have been heavy emotional moments. What we are left with is a highly paced entertaining action packed thriller which keeps changing the priorities and the headlines.
Sandberg's film has empty threat, stake, emotion, impact on us, its exhausted audience, that cannot wait for the light to turn on and the screen to turn off.
The co-writer and director David F. Sandberg has nothing to offer. And he is inviting us. This daring is neither admirable nor childish enough by us to reject it. We cannot, I cannot just say NO to the small wonders that Sandberg in its own bumps and trumps, can display. Now, is that all a coincidence or a genuine artistry taking place. What we do know for sure, is that this is an empty call. It is the part where the makers are bluffing. But even in a bluff, after a point, there is something that is revealed. Good or bad. In here, the void is dangerously arrogant. It is not going to and will not succumb to any obligatory notes of the film. Often this bold take could be beneficial but here it is peddled to nowhere. I would gladly stand up on the stage that it is not their fault, they didn't have any answers. But in haters' defense, there wasn't any question. First of all the genre isn't respected itself. It claims to be of horror and functions- or does not function- like a psychological drama. Psychological drama? Sure, why not. I'll take that as well. But when it comes the time for it to be that, it directs towards the sci-fi aspects of the storyline. There is no coherence on where the boundary is. What is white and what is black. What is in and what is out. What is light and what is dark. And now you can understand my annoyance when the warning sign, the title on the poster screams, Lights Out.
In terms of musical genre, Frozen 2 is balanced, if not perpetually gifting its audience what they expect.
Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee, the co-writers and directors, may not be able to convince everyone to hum along this time. Especially not the audience as large as they gathered previously. But it is not their fault. They went for a more mature and lighter yet equally moving version of the stereotypical Disney formula. Now, I have been experiencing these Disney films since the very beginning just like most of us. And it has worked every time if done properly. And I have always wondered how that "teamwork" aspect draws you in. Melts you down. And makes you laugh, happy with tears in your eyes. But now that I think about it and am out of the screen watching this mesmerizing second chapter of the Frozen, I feel that the "optimism" also partakes majorly on bombarding you with satisfaction that rains on your command. I say "your" for the emotion, at the end of the day, remains subjective. The makers offers you plenty of equation and relationship and range and situation to cave yourself in. That unfathomable, unfiltered optimism along with the prophecy that states, "It is not what it seems" are the hidden gems in the script that is pulsating way too strongly for any of the evil spirit to tone it down. There are moments, there is this core theme of the soundtrack that advances the storyline beautifully. And fortunately, the songs revolving around it and the climax justifying it, is the call, the tease of the Holiday season we all want. What I love about this franchise, is that it is never only about the lead character. I know we've had proper supporting characters before too, but none of them contributes so profoundly as they do here.
Bless Bale and Damon and Balfe and Ford and Ferrari. So rare when everything, everyone, cries for one lap. One perfect lap.
Ford V Ferrari
The director James Mangold is deservedly and in my case surprisingly in the lead in the Oscar race for the Best Direction trophy. And I am including the best of this year's most controlled films. There are many indie films that packs a linear, safer and comforting punch than this at-times-commercial-yet-fully-artsy drama. I have never seen him so confident and empowering on screen. And not to forget his large chunk of the film spends time on the road, in the run, at the face of Bale's snide-y looks that resembles to me with that mysterious Alfred Borden way of scanning out from The Prestige.
With a whoosh the film goes by like the Ferrari(!) and speaks mostly, structure wise, a pretty standard tale. Not at all biography but sports alike, the film feels. You are aware of where and how things would go and yet Mangold insists to you to experience these moments with this incredibly rich cast. Those tiny moments where it flowers you with flood of imaginative thoughts and ideas that scares and educates you, is the best asset of the film.
The nuanced performance then and then only emerges up, visible to the naked eye, teary eye by then. The helps that Matt Damon provides, the rejoicing moment between a husband and a wife after landing a well paid job and Christian Bale's performance staged, framed, mostly around his face, are the moments where you go through a religious experience of discovering cinema in a nail-biting match about patience. Another thing about Ford V Ferrari that caught me by surprise was how both the lead roles were actually underdog characters. That doesn't happen everywhere. No one dares.
Orphan takes big and big leaps as it progresses. I should say "age" and not "progress" for it also makes less and less sense as it grows.
And we meet again. The director Jaume Collet-Serra and I were just getting along and I came upon this project of his. Not to say, not to forget that I am not fascinated and mesmerized by his direction. But once again it is not him that is arrogantly high on the material it projects but the screenwriters David and Alex. They are proud and in love with the rabbit they have hidden under the hat. And I have seen people occasionally dish out the rabbit. But it is not just those final moments of the trick but the entire pitch of it.
There is no proper call of a judgement on what goes around in this house. Not haunted, not dysfunctional family and not the correctness or incorrectness of the judgement but the arrogance to stick by whether it is or not. Addition to that, the way each character is dealt with is also not profoundly dull but even insulting at times. For the difference between how these character and we are treated is nothing. There is no border between it.
With elaborative manipulative scenarios placed in narration with fast editing and loud background score and good performances we are told to get mad over and our feelings amped up strongly towards these odd characters. And we do. It gets hold of you and doesn't leave you easily. And I think it is not that the storyline is working. It is because we are vulnerable and out of control. We are told to observe, just observe, as the film and family collapse on the cheesiest and slippery floors with no ground or grip to hold onto any of its statements or theories. And we sit by and simply take it. Bravely take it all.
It is wildy and deliberately misleading. You don't get that in a genre like such just like the character that doesn't fit in a film like such.
The director Steven Soderberg has been in these cases for so long. Almost a pro. "Almost" is relative here for Matt Damon is the king. The Godfather. He has been here only for a day and he wins over your heart. Convinces you that he is on your side and all of that by a guy who has had an experience of only a month. And Damon's performance has received a lot of buzz for his physical transformation too. And it completely shows. The way he walks and poses and sits with an unapologetic man spreading.
Everything in every possible way he calls out for attention that is never actually not addressed. And you'd think that if something goes loud, it would collapse within a moment. But Damon knows this script through and through. The script misinforms you just like the character does, the plot does and every other aspect of the film does, Damon also changes the way his part of the contribution is usually interpreted. Tricking you is what the film wants.
Movie magic, the fooling objective of the job gets checked away smoothly. I know the film doesn't get usually mentioned, but this is one of those Soderberg films that despite its polished formal looking set pieces and the fact that it is a film about real events, it is utterly fictional. Beautifully fictional. Like some superhero comic film. Where twists and turns is part of its existence. The way it breathes. It is certainly not one of his stylish but definitely an earnest film. If this deal is to be done in a black alley. Then be it. They will make you sign it by the end of this meeting.