Jungle Cruise (2021)

Direction: Jaume Collet-Serra
Country: USA

Based on Disney’s riverboat amusing ride, Jaume Collet-Serra’s Jungle Cruise is a tiresome effects-soaked extravaganza with shallow characters and uninterrupted ostentatious sequences. The plot, written by regular associates Glenn Ficarra/John Requa (I Love You Phillip Morris, 2009; Focus, 2015) together with Michael Green (Logan, 2017; Blade Runner 2049, 2017), contains plenty of incidents that never materialize quite right on the screen.

It all starts when a courageous and charming British researcher, Dr. Lili Houghton (Emily Blunt), decides to cross the aggressive Brazilian Amazon rainforest by boat in search for the mythical Tree of Life on account of its healing powers. Her secret is that she can’t swim, an extra motive to hire the experienced boat skipper Frank Wolff (Dwayne Johnson), who is far more secretive than her but knows the jungle as the palm of his hand. Whereas she can be described as a female version of Indiana Jones, he resembles a raucous Popeye with no need for spinach.

Fancily decorated, the film also evokes Pirates of the Caribbean, Goonies and Aguirre (just a little due to the presence of the Spanish conquistador), but ends in a cluttered mess devoid of magic, where every attempted thrill becomes ineffective. With the director botching the scenes with suffocatingly busy scenarios, I had two hours of little fun. It feels that he and the screenwriters were so obsessed with the visuals that they simply forgot the human emotions. This adventure has no soul.

Khibula (2018)

Direction: George Ovashvili
Country: Georgia

The contemplative, poetic ways of Georgian helmer George Ovashvili remain intact in his third feature, Khibula, a political drama film inspired by the last days of the first democratically elected president of Georgia, Zviad Gamsakhurdia. Despite of this fact, the director rejected the term biopic since the name of the president in the film, played by Iranian actor Hossein Mahjoub (The Colors of Paradise, 1999), is deliberately unspecified to give the film a broader dimension.

We observe the painful rural journey of a demotivated, self-proclaimed president who returned to his devastated country after being overthrown by an authoritarian regime. Escorted by a few faithful supporters, he refuses to leave Georgia again, but is forced to hide from the enemy, visiting several houses while gradually losing hope in his cause. 

The sadness of his reality contrasts with the immense beauty of the images, impeccably captured by Italian cinematographer Enrico Lucidi (Baaria, 2009) in his first collaboration with the Georgian director. Visibly tormented with the decaying state of things, the president seems incapable of changing his fate. His death, whether by assassination or suicide, remains in mystery. 

Shot in 35mm, Khibula is not as strong as Ovashvili’s previous films - The Other Bank (2009) and Corn Island (2014) - whose backdrops were the 1992-1993 War in Abkhazia. However, this desolate tale of a political leader in steep decline can’t be ignored.

Limbo (2021)

Direction: Ben Sharrock
Country: UK

Limbo is a beautiful comedy drama. Bitter and tender by turns, it tells the story of Syrian refugee and oud player Omar Youssef (Amir El-Masry), who gets indefinitely stranded on a remote island in Scotland, patiently waiting for his application for asylum to be approved. Meanwhile, and because he is not allowed to work, he deals with anxiety and guilt not just for having borrowed money from his parents but also for having left Syria without saying goodbye to his brother, Nabil (Kais Nashif), who chose to fight. 

Unmotivated to play his instrument, Omar enters in a fragile emotional state that, on the one hand, is aggravated by the xenophobic observations of some locals, and, on the other, is attenuated by his Afghan friend, Farhad (Vikash Bhai), one of the few who remain optimistic and encouraging.

British writer/director Ben Sharrock borrows some humorous traits from Finnish filmmaker Aki Kaurismaki (immediately detectable in the first scene), who is the European summit in the thorny issue of immigration (Le Havre, 2011; The Other Side of Hope, 2017). Still, he infuses his own vision by giving a refreshing take on the topic and molding the film to become poignant but unsentimental, with an urgent humanist side.

As an affecting and intimate declaration of faith in human values, the picture works its way quietly and steadily into our emotions. Every line and frame have something of interest and it’s nearly impossible not to care for these characters as we witness their pain, compassion and hope. Limbo is difficult to forget.

In the Earth (2021)

Direction: Ben Wheatley
Country: UK

Ben Wheatley’s In the Earth uses cheap tricks for mood, never achieving acceptable levels of satisfaction. The narrative develops with chunky episodes and mechanical dialogues, following a cooked-to-formula script that tries to play edgy with contemporary anxieties and an impure-nature setting.

The story pairs up Martin Lowery (Joel Fry), a scientist impassionately committed to making crops more efficient, and Alma (Ellora Torchia), an affable park ranger, as they venture into the woods when a deadly virus keeps ravaging the world. In the course of this journey they bump into a deceiving stranger, Zack (Reece Shearsmith), as well as Martin’s fellow colleague, Olivia Wendle (Hayley Squires).

There’s not enough skill in the plotting and execution of a criminally boring fiction that comes packed with hallucinogenic pretentiousness. While exposing glaring plot holes, the film drowns in waves of imbecility, rendering everything frigid with a tacky approach.

The only thing this murky film can do is to trigger an epileptic attack via the unpleasant images that try to bring it to a climax. The woods can actually be scary, but not here. Wheatley’s new trance is not recommended, confirming the bad shape of the British director after the unsuccessful remake of Hitchcock’s Rebecca in 2020.

My Little Sister (2021)

Direction: Stéphanie Chuat, Véronique Reymond
Country: Switzerland

A Nina Hoss in top form (one of Christian Petzold’s muses - Phoenix, 2014; Barbara, 2012) spearheads a capable cast invested to make this intensely sincere family drama work. My Little Sister deals with the subject of illness and death in all its hardness.

The sophomore fictional feature from the long-standing pair of directors, Stéphanie Chuat and Véronique Reymond, chronicles a difficult period in the life of twin siblings Lisa (Hoss), a former playwright turned educator, and Sven (Lars Eidinger), a passionate theater actor with terminal cancer, who reunite after the latter has been subjected to an unsuccessful bone marrow transplant. Their inextinguishable bond and the pain shared for not being able to do what they most like in life, will give them motives to fight the adversities with courage and perseverance, even if what they aspire seems impossible to be achieved.

The handheld camera attempts to reproduce the anxiety in Lisa, who’s having a hard time trying to convince her husband, Martin (Jens Albinus), to return to Berlin, especially after he has been offered a new 5-year work contract in Switzerland, where he runs an English school. Also, her neurotic, sloppy and ego-centered mother (Marthe Keller) is not much of a help, intensifying the moments of friction. 

Bathed in strong emotional currents, the story develops in a sober, believable way, showing a family in crisis but focusing its gaze on a dissatisfied, innerly fractured woman who desperately seeks some balance when in the eminent presence of loss.  

Bristling with different kinds of vulnerability, My Little Sister is grim, earnest and emotionally turbulent, inflicting that real-life pressure we look for in this kind of drama.

State Funeral (2021)

Direction: Sergey Loznitsa
Country: Lithuania / Netherlands

Assembled with previously unseen footage, propaganda taken from radio broadcasts and dramatic classical requiems (Chopin and Mendelssohn included), Sergey Loznitsa’s State Funeral is a long, mournful dirge focused on the days that preceded the funeral of Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin in March 1953.

The images, toggling between color and black-and-white, capture the vast hordes of mourners across the USSR, elucidating about the cult of personality enjoyed by an authoritarian leader who was responsible for the torture and death of millions of people. 

The deceiving machine behind Stalin and his regime praises him as the greatest genius of humanity with glorious deeds toward peace and ethnic integration. These misleading strategies are still employed by Russia today, brainwashing people and keeping them under rigid control. A weird feeling arises when you see a whole nation and its army crying for a mass murderer.

The Ukrainian director, whose penchant for desolation and violence was seen in powerful dramas like My Joy (2010) and In the Fog (2012), feels at home with the material, reconstructing the scenarios with the help of regular collaborator and editor Danielius Kokanauskis, who shortened 40 hours of footage to 135 minutes.

Packed with the faces of consternation and tears of despair, State Funeral is both remarkable and tedious.

The Duke (2021)

Direction: Roger Michell
Country: UK

Adopting the same amiable and accessible tones that characterize his films, the South African-born British director Roger Michell (Notting Hill, 1999; Venus, 2006; Le Week-end, 2013) dramatizes the remarkable real-life theft of Goya’s Portrait of the Duke of Wellington from the National Gallery by a 60-year-old taxi driver turned activist. Stealing a piece of art may seem profane to some, but when all the operation means well, you'll go down laughing and supporting the lad who had the idea. 

Kempton Bunton (Jim Broadbent in his second partnership with Michell) was the man who did it in 1961; not to get rich but to call attention for the huge sums of money spent in art while the people, especially the elderly, were in need of basic care and comfort. If Kempton had the support of his younger son Jackie (Fionn Whitehead) for this, he was fiercely rebuked by his wife, Dorothy (Helen Mirren), whose embarrassment was visible.

The indefatigable Kempton packs the film with a howl of funny moments, both at home and at court, offering a diverting and ingratiating 95-minute session at the movies. It's a gentle, light-fingered heist movie that actually doesn’t feel like a heist. There’s nothing mind-blowing in the serene storytelling, but as enjoyable as the film can be, what's not to like about observing the Buntons’ dynamics? 

Even if the cinematography tends to infuse warm light in every scene and the direction is sometimes too bubbly to feel real, the performances are genuinely natural and sympathetic to make us bound up with the characters. There is a tenderness about this hero and his noble intentions that is profoundly touching. The ending is delicious, and even James Bond seems to have acknowledged this story.

Cliff Walkers (2021)

Direction: Zhang Yimou
Country: China

The experienced Chinese director Zhang Yimou is known for the rigorous detail and emotional richness of his luxuriant period films. His latest work, an espionage thriller set in the snowy, Japanese-controlled state of Manchukuo in the 1930s, promises a lot but ends up in a dissatisfying entanglement. This is his first attempt in the historical spy thriller genre.

Four Chinese communist party agents return to the state, after receiving intense training in Russia. They plan to carry out a secret operation known as ‘Utrennya’, whose purpose is to expose the nefarious atrocities perpetrated by the Japanese Unit 731 against humanity. The mission, already demanding, becomes all the more complex when a comrade, on the verge of being executed, decides to reveal important information to the Japanese. 

The problem with the film, which is told in seven chapters, is the convoluted plot and its lack of narrative cohesion. Yimou and Quan Yongxian wrote it from a story by the latter, but the questionable loyalties, arcane codes and secret agendas never get us close to the characters. Moreover, the plodding storytelling together with an ineffective use of the score (by Jo Yeong-wook), and the extreme contrast between violent and emotional scenes don’t facilitate our engagement in the story. What stands out is the cinematography of Xiaoding Zhao, who had previously worked with the director in Shadow (2018), House of Flying Daggers (2004) and Coming Home (2014), among other titles.

Action and intrigue, which should be the go-thing in Cliff Walkers, are in clear deficit, and the film, duller than exciting, got me bored.

Pig (2021)

Direction: Michael Sarnoski
Country: USA

Debutant writer/director Michael Sarnoski’s drama-thriller, Pig, resuscitates Nicolas Cage and builds a consistently intriguing character that we strive to know more about. 

Cage is Robin Feld, a reclusive, depressed truffle hunter who leaves the Oregon woodland, where he lives for 15 years, to go after his stolen truffle-finding pig in the city of Portland, his hometown. Once there, he seeks the help of his truffle buyer, Amir (Alex Wolff), who later realizes he was a known and respected personality in the city. Rob has his own ways, but they are weird ways. He learns that both he and his antagonist made distinct choices in life after painful losses.

Cleverly paced and emotionally affecting, Pig surprises in many ways. This is certainly not the typical revenge thriller that most folks expect, but it takes you through a dirty road where unpredictability and discomfort are constantly present. It then leads to redemption and emotional liberation, aspects that Cage conjures up extraordinarily well in his performance.

Some thrillers earn the epithet of ‘edge of your seat’ experiences, but with Pig it’s more like you are waiting patiently for Rob to resolve what needs to be fixed. Successful debut by Sarnoski. 

Red Moon Tide (2021)

Direction: Lois Patiño
Country: Spain

The penetrating mystery at the core of this foreboding tale of loss, grief and abandonment, together with the film’s striking visuals and immersive narration, distinguishes Red Moon Tide as a remarkable debut feature from Spanish filmmaker and cinematographer Lois Patiño. Both the symbolism and the dichotomy between realism and surrealism bolster these tides of despair, which slowly emerge as a unique, uncanny neo-noir experience. 

The few elderly inhabitants of a small fishing village located in Costa da Morte, Galicia, lament the recent disappearance of Rubio (Rubio de Camelle), an experienced sailor who had rescued many bodies from the sea, so their families could say goodbye and have peace. Now, it was his turn to be swallowed by the sea - that monster that always comes with the moon tide. 

Rubio’s mother prays to the witches and three of them arrive from unknown places in an attempt to localize the man’s body. Every sad villager has a different theory about the case, which are presented as thoughts - some of them claim it was the furious sea that has been taking their lives little by little, some other point a peculiarly shaped rock that could have wrecked the man's boat, while other blame the poisonous dam that keeps spreading rust and corrosion all over. 

Whether captured by the slow movements of the camera or spotted in still frames that stress the village’s inertia, the ghosts appear in a simplistic form (like in David Lowery’s A Ghost Story) and pose with an aesthetic appeal. It’s all lugubrious, esoteric and bemusedly enchanting, with major contributions of sound designer Juan Carlos Blancas and the cinematographic art of Patiño. 

Very ambitious in its purpose and structure, Red Moon Tide rests in an infinite limbo of mourning. Unlike most of the films we see, the uncontrollable sea and sinister moon are the enemies that engulf everyone in a deep and disturbing melancholy.

Slalom (2021)

Direction: Charlène Favier
Country: France

Slalom, the slow-burning coming-of-age film that marks the directorial debut from Charlène Favier, is a very personal manifesto and a wake-up call on the topic of sexual abuse in sports. Painted with deep feeling and a superior sensitivity, the film brilliantly exposes the traumatic experience and psychological damage suffered by Lyz Lopez (Noée Abita), a 15-year-old skiing prodigy who falls in the hands of the transgressive and authoritarian Fred (Jérémie Renier), an ex-champion turned coach.

Lyz is very serious about skiing, and her goal is no less than reaching the top. She is fiercely encouraged - mostly never in a proper way - by her trainer, whom she thinks of with a mix of admiration and trepidation. His psychological and physical abuses create an emotional state of confusion and consternation that is transported to the screen with a chilling impact.

Although fictional, the film carries a semi-autobiographical weight up to a point, since Favier disclosed she was a victim of sexual violence in sports in her youth. The absence of parents has also played an important role in the story. 

Possessing a tight control over the camera and catching glimpses of details with astute intelligence, the filmmaker succeeds in laying bare the complexities of this ruinous teen-adult relationship. Abita, a revelation who rises to the challenge of letting us feel what the character is going through, and Renier, a confirmation whose presence has been foremost in the work of the Dardenne Brothers along the years, deliver crackerjack performances.

Slalom is convincingly raw and quietly creepy.

The Sparks Brothers (2021)

Direction: Edgar Wright
Country: UK / USA

This music documentary directed by Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, 2004; Hot Fuzz, 2007; Baby Driver, 2017) about the odd, cartoonish and enigmatic group Sparks - composed of inseparable brothers Ron and Russell Mael - becomes overlong and unexciting as we are informed about the duo’s changes in style throughout the years (from proto-punk and glam-rock to danceable synth-pop and experimental dance-rock) and collaborations not only in music (Giorgio Moroder, The Go-Go’s Jane Wiedlin) but also in the movies (they wrote the script and compose the music for Leos Carax's musical Annette, and almost worked with Jacques Tati). The bizarre and kitsch glamour in their looks is also topic.

Employing too many interviewees in its lopsided structure - including music personalities such as Beck, Flea, Vince Clark, Thurston Moore, John Taylor and Nick Rhodes, as well as fans of the band - Wright affects the flow of the film, which stutters with repetition and monotonous episodes.

As the self-indulgence imposes, the film offers less and less. It’s difficult to imagine much of an audience for The Sparks Brothers; at least, some other than the cult-like admirers that idolize them.

Black Widow (2021)

Direction: Cate Shortland
Country: USA

I was curious to see how Cate Shortland, the director of Lore (2012) and Berlin Syndrome (2017), would handle this Marvel’s Black Widow. Despite Eric Pearson’s unexceptional screenplay, she directs with hectic energy, mixing espionage conspiracy, family drama and combat sequences with passion. Yet, the overpowering visual effects and overstylized action scenes often make difficult to read the fight choreography and fully enjoy the battles.

This is the eighth time that Scarlett Johansson storms onto the screen as Natasha Romanoff, a member of the Avengers and former KGB-assassin who seeks a peaceful life in exile but sees her complicated past resurface as she is hunted down. In the course of this journey, she re-connects with her sister, Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh will also play this character in Marvel’s upcoming Hawkeye miniseries) as well as with her fierce non-biological mother, Melina Vostokoff (Rachel Weisz) and tragicomic father, Alexei Shostakov (David Harbour), a Russian version of the Captain America and the film’s funniest character.

The family episodes offer tonal contrast to the furious, rowdy battles in this feminist film where men have secondary roles. The villain is played by Ray Winstone.

Comparisons with Mission Impossible and the Bourne films are legit since the spies have their own ways. Black Widow doesn’t assume a place of distinction, but even not very super, assures an acceptable ride into the Marvel world.

Scales (2021)

Direction: Shahad Ameen
Country: Saudi Arabia

This art-house Saudi Arabian Oscar-entry film is an unhurried feminist parable with a powerful message, dazzling visual appeal (in a stylized black-and-white) and interesting symbolism and surrealism. The film, written and directed by Shahad Ameen, takes the form of a dystopian fairy tale, telling the story of a 12-year old girl, Hayat (Basima Hajja), who lives in a barren rocky island and is seen by the entire village as a bad omen.

This has to do with an ancient tradition that compels every family in the village to sacrifice a daughter and offer her to the sea. Their fate is to become mermaids and later be hunted by men. However, Hayat’s father (Yagoub Alfarhan) spares her life in a last-minute impulse. 

His act is seen as cowardice but, on the other hand, will give Hayat a chance to prove she is as brave, determined and capable as any man. Everything gets stuck in a rut when her contemptuous mother gives birth to a boy. It’s a constant battle against fate, an indefatigable refusal to accept men’s empowering rules and earn, if not total freedom, at least equality. 

Hypnotic and allegorical, Scales flows exquisitely, compensating the scarce dialogue with facial expressions - frequently captured through intimate closeups - that speak volumes. I understand that its opaque route, sometimes recalling Michelangelo Antonioni, may drive away a few viewers, but the attentive ones will know what to extract from the rich imagery and metaphorical point of view.

Summer of Soul (2021)

Direction: Ahmir “Questlove" Thompson
Country: USA

This clear-eyed music documentary directed by hip-hop/neo-soul artist Ahmir “Questlove" Thompson (from the band The Roots) puts on view unseen footage of the 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival, which sat unpublished in a basement for 50 years. The six-week event took place at Mount Morris Park in a hot summer and got virtually no publicity when compared to Woodstock, despite counting on impressive performances from major black artists. The film elucidates that the festival wasn’t just about the music but also about the proud of being black, the demand for change and the necessity of progress for the African-American people and Latin communities. The time was of political and racial unrest, more important concerns of the Harlem population than the same year’s moon landing of the Apollo 11. People clearly needed that music to drive away depression and white repression.

Questlove interviewed both attendees and public figures, and the performances were varied, going from soul/funk and gospel (Stevie Wonder, Sly & the Family Stone, The Staple Singers) to jazz (Nina Simone, Max Roach/Abbey Lincoln, Herbie Mann, Sonny Sharrock) to Latin/world music (Mongo Santamaria, Ray Barretto, Hugh Masekela). Also the blues (BB King) and the Motown sound (Temptation’s David Ruffin, Gladys Knight) served to delight the enthusiastic crowd.

As a melting pot of killing grooves and a vibrant push on the civil rights movement, the festival, which was born from a bold initiative by Tony Lawrence with the support of the mayor of New York, John Lindsay (a charismatic Republican who was popular among black people), was a rejoicing experience. Trust me, the heat is real and the communion incredible.

Werewolves Within (2021)

Direction: Josh Ruben
Country: USA

Werewolves Within is an old-fangled horror-comedy mystery directed by Josh Ruben (his sophomore feature, following last year’s Scare Me) from a videogame-inspired script by Mishna Wolff. It gathers a bunch of eccentric characters in the snowy small town of Beaverfield with a werewolf on the loose. One of them is the monster, and both the newly arrived forest ranger, Finn Wheeler (Sam Richardson), and an accessible postal worker, Cecily Moore (Milana Vayntrub), are compelled to find the culprit of several killings plus the sabotage of the town’s generators. The turmoil conveniently happens during a snowstorm, which is deterrent to escape.

In addition to an ineffable silliness, the film comes debilitated in thrills (all attempts are bungled with cliché), while the gags work intermittently. A common environmental problem nowadays is smartly transported into the story as the construction of a gas pipeline divides the inhabitants and invites strangers.

Some characters are funnier than others - my favorite being Joaquim (Harvey Guillén) whose sharp tongue is killing - and there’s harmless fun here and there, but overall, this is not a great film, walking a rutted road that feels too familiar to impress.

Werewolves Within is instantly forgettable, but at least the cast seems to have had a whale of a time doing it.

No Sudden Move (2021)

Direction: Steven Soderbergh
Country: USA

We all know about Steven Soderbergh's penchant for heist movies (the Ocean’s trilogy; Logan Lucky, 2017; Out of Sight, 1998); and he returns to the genre with positive results, backed by a grandiose ensemble cast and boasting an evocative tone. No Sudden Move is pelted with funny lines, a constellation of unpredictable and suspicious characters, deliciously offbeat moments, pertinent social commentary to boot and gratifying twists. However, the film is stronger in its extremities, whereas the midsection loses some adherence without risking a wreck.

The story, competently written by Ed Solomon (Men in Black, 1997; Now You See Me, 2013) is set in 1954 Detroit, following an apparently simple three-man job that goes sideways. Washed-up gangsters Curt Goynes (Don Cheadle), Roland Russo (Benicio Del Toro) and Charley Barnes (Kieran Culkin) are given the mission of stealing an important document, and the key for that purpose is the car salesman Matt Wertz (David Harbour is impressive here). Soon, with a series of game-changing events, the boys are trailed by detective Joe Finney (Jon Hamm) and start negotiations with bigger sharks like the brute Frank Capelli (Ray Liotta) and the sly, conceited automobile kingpin Mike Lowen (a convincing Matt Damon in a cameo role).

The problem with this neo-noir is the shortage of suspense, which makes it look cerebral. This is curiously overcome by a jocular posture and the succession of betrayals. Also, Roland and Curt don’t make an explosive team, a quibble that doesn’t necessarily spoil the whole. An immediate classic? Certainly not. But a steady source of entertainment, I would say.

Tragic Jungle (2021)

Direction: Yulene Olaizola
Country: Mexico

A supernatural thriller entirely shot in the jungle about the femme fatale Xtabay - a Yucatec Maya myth - brings so many possibilities to mind that it’s hard not to feel excited about it. However what was presented here by director Yulene Olaizola (Shakespeare and Victor Hugo’s Intimacies, 2008; Artificial Paradises, 2011) was powerless, with an overwhelming absence of mystery and a dormant storytelling.

Although regarded as an exercise in mood, the film employs crumbles of surrealism and folklore in an ineffective way, with the story rambling in circles with no apparent direction before throwing a bland conclusion at us.

The year is 1920, and Agnes (Indira Rubie Andrewin), trying to escape an arranged marriage with a malicious Englishman (Dale Carley), crosses the border between Mexico and Belize with a friend and a guide. Surviving a vicious attack by her intended husband, she is later found by a group of gum collectors led by Ausencio (Gilberto Barraza), who like the others, becomes under the spell of her beauty. In addition to a cold and fearless posture, the smile of Agnes - ranging between flirtatious to cynical - incites the fantasies of the men, who easily succumb to her power by losing their sense of direction.

Sloppy in the period details, unproductive in terms of tension and lacking character depth, the film never really explores the sense of danger, and even less the sense of adventure that could have arisen from a story of this nature. Olaizola's excess of control prevented Tragic Jungle from achieving an identity as something scary or profound. To be frank, I couldn’t find one single original idea in this shapeless movie. 

Matthias & Maxime (2020)

Direction: Xavier Dolan
Country: Canada

Xavier Dolan returns to his native Quebec, but his topic didn’t change. Complex relationships between friends and family continue to be his menu, only his latest dish, Matthew & Maxime, isn’t so nutritious as other gourmet presentations such as Mommy (2014) and I Killed My Mother (2009).

The film, his eighth, follows two childhood friends - portrayed by Gabriel D'Almeida Freitas and himself - who after years of camaraderie and sexual repression realize they love each other. Dolan should have invested in something more mature here. His writing is weak and the general performances unremarkable. Another recurrent theme is the problematic mother-son relationship, which also doesn’t have the force of other times.

This uninspired, disjointed gay romance gets torpidly stuck in the frivolous details and characters that surround it. Real passion never emerges as Dolan keeps battling with tone, probing everything without adhering to the right one. The insipidity further escalates with the shabby, cosmetic finale, and the result is a pretentious, silly bore that never rises above mediocre status.

Censor (2021)

Direction: Prano Bailey-Bond
Country: UK

Censor, an art-house psychological horror film stylishly conceived by the debutant writer/director Prano Bailey-Bond, has a say about video nasties and shows creativity in mixing the nightmarish cinematic universes of Peter Strickland and David Cronenberg.

Enid (Niamh Algar) is an inflexible film censor who lives with one single idea in mind: protect the people, especially children, from the violent content delivered by some movie production companies. At the same time she gets press attention due to a real killing based on a film she had recently approved, another film turns her focus to a traumatic occurrence of her childhood. Obsession, paranoia, guilt and delirium start consuming her inside out.

The visuals and sound, entrusted to Annika Summerson and Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch, respectively, are critical to the film’s atmosphere, compensating the tenuity of a plot that never impresses. Having said that, it’s beyond doubt that the confident Bailey-Bond found the most convenient tone in order to keep the experience entertaining. Even suspended in a state that alternates between the mesmerizing and the boring, the film effectively blurs the line between reality and fantasy, while alluring us with a refined style.

Algar’s performance is strong, and while some scenes pay tribute to the retro horror genre, the gore factor is not the main source they feed from, challenging the viewers to see beyond that aspect.