Prisoners of the Ghostland (2021)

Direction: Sion Sono
Country: Japan / USA

Taking in consideration that Prisoners of the Ghostland arrives by the hand of Japanese director Sion Son (Love Exposure, 2008; Suicide Club, 2001; Cold Fish, 2010), who worked from a demented script by Aaron Hendry and Reza Sixo Safai, you should be more than prepared to find punishing environments, brutally insane characters, dark humor and gory scenes.

Admittedly, the film - Sono’s English-language debut - is a psycho neo-noir western with spectacular dystopian visuals, extreme plot absurdities (this is your chance to see a testicle exploding), deranged massive shootings and hyper-stylized Japanese sword fighting scenes, among other eccentric peculiarities. Another attraction is Nicolas Cage, who returned in big this year with Pig, but here seems to have extra fun as Hero, an imprisoned outlaw forced into an inescapable, dark region called Ghostland to rescue the Governor (Bill Moseley)’s missing granddaughter (Sofia Boutella).

More derisive than clever, the film manages to reach the minimum accepted levels of entertainment even without revealing a dash of emotion. The strongest aspect here happens to be the cinematography of Sohei Tanikawa, who had previously worked with the director in six of his works.

Wife of a Spy (2021)

Direction: Kiyoshi Kuroswa
Country: Japan

Yu Aoi and Issey Takahashi star in Kyioshi Kurosawa’s historical espionage drama, Wife of a Spy. They are wife and husband living in Kobe during WWII, an actress and an import/export businessman, respectively, whose marriage grows disgruntled after he takes a trip to Manchuria. She begins to suspect he has a lover there before considering he might be betraying the Japanese nation by spying for the Allies. Prior to these events, she reconnects with a childhood friend, Taiji (Masahiro Higashide), now a stern squad leader in the Japanese army. 

Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa (Tokyo Sonata; To the Ends of the Earth), who got a hand from emergent filmmaker Ryûsuke Hamaguchi (Drive My Car; Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy) in the screenplay, offers us an exercise in subtlety built with a striking cinematography by debutant Tatsunosuke Sasaki - stressed by a very beautiful work on the light department - and qualified set decorations and costumes. In spite of the qualified performances, one is given the impression that the packaging is more alluring than the contents since the filmmaking elegancy often takes up the emotional part of the story.

There’s a film inside a film - with references to the eternal Japanese filmmaker Kenji Mizoguchi -  that infuses a certain noir touch in the slow-burning intrigue. The characters’ ambiguous behavior plays a central role, and even if the film never materializes in a taut espionage thriller, it provides slick entertainment through baffling betrayals, conspiracy and some satisfying twists along the way. Actually, this period film works better if you think of it, not as a spy thriller, but as a story of love and sacrifice for a greater cause.

The Card Counter (2021)

Direction: Paul Schrader
Country: USA

Paul Schrader rose to prominence as a writer - with Taxi Driver (1976), Raging Bull (1980) and The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), all three directed by Martin Scorsese - as well as a director with Affliction (1997), Mishima: a Life in Four Chapters (1985) and First Reformed (2017). As a long-time adept of character studies, he returns with The Card Counter, a crime drama film centered on a lone blackjack gambler and former military interrogator, William Tell (Oscar Isaac), who links the gravitas of the casino world with the dark history of Abu Grahib. The idea is promising, the mood is appropriate and the acting is pretty decent, but still, the film is imperfect and uneven, presented with things that rubbed the wrong way. 

William’s past is furiously revived after he meets Cirk (Tye Sheridan), a young indebted man who seeks revenge from the cruel Abu Grahib officer who led his father, also an interrogator, to commit suicide. William had been trained and motivated by the same man, John Gordo (Willem Dafoe), who, unlike him, was never brought to justice for his actions. Hence, he kind of smiles at the idea of killing him. However, he decides not to take that step, but rather helps Cirk solving his problems, while embracing an unexpected romance with a gambling financier named La Linda (Tiffany Haddish). 

The film, drowsy in tone and slow in pace, reaches a ridiculous finale after showing a discouraging lack of nerve in the execution. In fact, the movie haunts us like a ballad whose tune you remember because its languor takes your energy away. Everything becomes off key in this story of guilt and redemption, which hits a few interesting notes without ever creating a satisfying melody. In spite of the misstep, Schrader remains a valid director, who can easily come up with superior stuff in the future.

The Power of the Dog (2021)

Direction: Jane Campion
Country: New Zealand / Australia / other

Immaculately crafted by New Zealander director Jane Campion (The Piano, 1993; Sweetie, 1989; An Angel at My Table, 1990), The Power of the Dog, a distinctive anti-western with an incredible cinematography and thoughtful moral considerations, is set with the perfect tone and towering performances. The film, based on the novel of the same name by Thomas Savage, stars Benedict Cumberbatch, Jesse Plemons, Kirsten Dunst and Kodi Smit-McPhee, but if the three former actors had previously demonstrated their acting qualities, the latter becomes the great revelation here, carrying the physical fragility and that strange, confident look that brings the necessary ambiguity to the picture.

Two brothers, Phil (Cumberbatch) and George Burbank (Plemons), run an ample Montana ranch with different visions and ambitions. Phil is harsh and does all the hard work, while George is more considerate of others, likes to dress well and live the good life. Little signs of tension exist between the brothers, but when Rose Gordon (Dunst), a widow who ends up drowning in booze, marries George and moves into the house with her sensitive son, Peter (Smit-McPhee), their peace is severely disturbed.

Campion is absolutely masterful in dissecting these characters subtlety, presenting their complex personalities, volatile relationships and personal struggles with an optimum mix of intensity and restraint. She fills this elegiac period piece with sensitive experiences to be lived in, rather than simply watched. 

It took me some time to conclude, especially due to the film’s deliberate pacing, that this is a nuanced, visceral epic tale more than just a relationship drama of striking specificity. One can only confirm that after watching one of the coldest film finales in recent times.

Divine Love (2021)

Direction: Gabriel Mascaro
Country: Brazil

Brazilian director Gabriel Mascaro deserved all the attention he got with his raw feature debut, Neon Bull (2015). Now, he returns with Divine Love, shifting his observant gaze from the Northeastern Brazilian rodeo to a sort of meditation on the limits of faith set in a near future.

The year is 2027 and the story, told by the voice of a child, focuses on Joana (Dira Paes), a devotee of Jesus Christ who works in the divorce department of a renewed Brazilian state, whose most important event is now the Party of Supreme Love instead of the Carnival. She and her infertile husband, Danilo (Julio Machado), are members of the support religious group Divine Love, which helps divorcing couples reconcile through prayers, rituals and partner swapping. Their motto is “Love doesn’t betray. Love shares.”

Joana is very happy with her work but lives dissatisfied with the impossibility of having a child. With the help of a Pastor (Emílio de Mello) who works in a public drive-through, and strengthened with her tremendous faith, Joana doesn’t lose hope. Actually, miracles can happen, but they have a consequence here. 

The give and take is well patented within a film that is at once straightforward and cynical. Maybe, the story spends too much time preaching, but Mascaro holds tight to his credo, aiming at the Brazilian conservatism with irony. Even with the two leads playing a perfect fiddle to one another, one finds some unnecessary repetition. Moreover, the fact that one is able to get the point soon before the film’s ending hampers Divine Love from stepping up. It's a tolerable effort, though, from a filmmaker with potentiality.

Cry Macho (2021)

Direction: Clint Eastwood
Country: USA 

I have much respect for Clint Eastwood and his work both as an actor and a director, but Cry Macho lacks all the possible and necessary nerve to become acceptable, mostly due to the abominable script by Nick Schenk, the screenwriter of Gran Torino (2008) and The Mule (2018), who adapted N. Richard Nash’s 1975 novel of the same name. The comparisons between the three cited movies are flagrant.

It’s a contemporary western drama film composed of farcical situations, one after another, that made me disconnect from the story at a very early stage. The nonagenarian Eastwood stars as Mike Milo, a former Texan rodeo star turned grieving alcoholic turned recovered horse breeder who accepts to help his ex-employer, the rancher Howard Polk (country musician Dwight Yoakam), reunite with his delinquent 13-year-old son, Rafo (Eduardo Minett). According to his dad, the latter is being abused under the supervision of his irresponsible mother (Fernanda Urrejola). 

Mike drives to Mexico City and manages to connect with the kid. Both embark on a colorless road trip back to the US, over the course of which I can’t point out one single scene that have worked in its plenitude. Each scenario feels totally fabricated, often overemotional and with tons of schmaltzy dialogue. Not to talk about the unflattering romance.

Eastwood should know his limits by now, and I can only encourage you to stay away from this lamentable misfire cooked with stale ingredients and weak performances in general.

After Love (2021)

Direction: Aleem Khan
Country: UK

British writer-director Aleem Khan triumphs in his feature directorial debut, After Love, a poignant drama film that deserved all the praise it got in renowned European festivals.

Joanna Scanlan is Mary, a housewife living in Dover, Southern England, who changed her name to Fahima Hussain after marrying a Pakistani man. His unexpected death leads to Mary's finding that he has had a lover for many years. She packs her things and travels 21 miles to Calais, France, where she meets this French woman, Genevieve (Nathalie Richard), who lives with her disquieted son, Solomon (Talid Ariss). Mary’s curiosity seems as big as her torment. 

Almost every scene throbs with suffering and discomfort, but the one where the truth is revealed to Genevieve strikes with an emotional edge. Following naturally adverse reactions, these women get to understand the pain of each other, and it’s in that sense that the film is so humane and touching. As opposed to drawing a bleak scenario from start to finish, Khan dilutes the toughest moments into a liberating sympathy and stoical acceptance of the facts. 

Morose and complex, After Love is worthy of your time for its clarity and lack of pretension alone. The mise-en-scene may seem spare but what the film has to say overcomes that aspect. It's a simple enough setup that goes deeper as it moves forward. 

With Scanlan delivering a phenomenal performance as the grieving widow, the film makes us think about the submissive role of women in Islamic society in opposition to the freedoms enjoyed by men.

Summertime (2021)

Direction: Carlos López Estrada
Country: USA 

The director of Blindspotting (2018), Carlos López Estrada, doesn’t disappoint in his sophomore feature, Summertime, an unfastened yet burningly passionate dramedy about real people with terrific poetry skills. Drawing inspiration from a spoken-word showcase of high school performers, the director gathers 25 L.A.-based young-adult poets whose dreams, fears, successes and traumas spread across one single summer day. Most of the members of this ensemble cast have never acted in a movie before. 

A roller skating guitarist, a pair of unfluctuating street rappers, a homeless cheeseburger lover, a dreamy limo driver, a gay mother in a bus, a frustrated employer of a hamburger fast food restaurant, a young couple in therapy, a wall painter in the run from the police, and two heartbroken girls are some of the personalities you’ll meet over the course of 95 minutes. 

If the writing is apt, the staging is not always at the same level, but there’s this breezy, Spike Lee-tinged comedic tone that gives it that favorable indie stamp we all love. 

Although not unblemished, the film is occasionally quite exciting, not only making me laugh but also delivering a positive message of hope. I dare to say that Estrada found a victorious sense of pride in these youngsters. Their relationships and emotional struggles feel relevant in these socially awkward days.

Candyman (2021)

Direction: Nia da Costa
Country: USA

With Nia da Costa (Little Woods, 2019) directing from a screenplay she co-wrote with Jordan Peele (Get Out, 2017; Us, 2019) and producer Win Rosenfeld, this fresh installment of Candyman, a direct sequel to the 1992 original directed by Bernard Rose, it’s dark and eerie in spots, but not totally memorable.

Following an enticing prelude that harkens back to 1977, the story leaps to the Chicago area where the Calabrini-Green housing project had been built, now completely renovated. The African-American visual artist Anthony McCoy (Yahya Abdul-Mateen) moves there, into a new luxury apartment with his wife, Brianna Cartwright (Teyonah Parris), an art gallery director. After hearing about the legend of Candyman, a vengeful hook-handed ghost, Anthony becomes totally connected and inspired by the macabre story that involves it. He relaunches his career with an exhibition about the topic, but the event ends up in tragedy, leaving him haunted by the supernatural figure. 

Wobbling along the way, the film feels too familiar in places to become fully accomplished, but provides an up-to-date look at racism and social class gaps. The implacable, surprising ending elevates the bar just enough to make it passable. Even failing to scare, this Candyman manages to give the story a contemporary twist that says much about the racial prejudices endured by the African-American community. It deserves credit for that, but horror-wise, the film is more manipulative than unnerving.

Respect (2021)

Direction: Liesl Tommy
Country: USA

First-time director Liesl Tommy attempts to dig deep in a particular life period of the activist singer and Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin - impersonated here by Jennifer Hudson (The Secret Life of Bees, 2008; Dreamgirls, 2016) - but only scratches the surface. Working from a flimsy screenplay by Tracey Scott Wilson, the inexperienced director falls into common biopic traps in a a dislikable on-screen rendering of a significant life.

Spanning between the 1950s and 1970s, the film follows the rise of Aretha, from the days when she sang in the church and Saturday night parties led by her overbearing father (Forest Whitaker) to the international fame, surprisingly achieved with the backing of white musicians. Besides the musical aspect, the film focuses on the toxic relationships and traumatic situations that plagued her personal life. 

The film sorely lacks in emotion, becoming a by-the-numbers musical biopic that is neither thought-provoking nor entertaining enough. Its innocuous and unimaginative storytelling, marked by rush-induced narrative gaps, would have led to even worse consequences if it weren’t for Hudson in the leading role and Marc Maron, who is fantastic as the enthusiastic Atlantic Records producer Jerry Wexler. 

With a lot of razzle-dazzle and very little soul, Respect, which ends with footage of Aretha performing “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” at the Kennedy Center in 2015, feels incomplete and never lives up to the diva’s life.

CODA (2021)

Direction: Sian Heder
Country: USA

Tallulah’s director Sian Heder returns to feature film - her second - with CODA, a musical coming-of-age drama that may offer you some coziness but never reaches special places. This American remake of Éric Lartigau’s French film La Famille Belier is an eager-to-please potpourri that sacrifices heart and substance for a variety of limp plot choices. 

The story is centered on teenage Ruby Rossi (Emilia Jones), the only one in her united family of fishermen who can hear. Her presence became indispensable to her parents - Frank (Troy Kotsur) and Jackie (Marlee Matlin) - as a sign language translator but her passion and gift for singing is spotted by a supportive yet demanding music teacher, Bernardo Villalobos (Eugenio Derbez), who envisages her in Boston’s Berklee School of Music alongside her crush, Miles (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo). The dilemma of staying with the family or leaving them is already complex, but now imagine how hard would be to explain to deaf people your fascination for music.

The idea of bringing this contrast between music and deafness may look interesting at first, and even develops with a bawdy sense of humor, but then whatever was charming in the course of action vanishes in a glimpse of an eye in consequence of the incremental addition of clichéd subplots that mostly annoy rather than entertain. 

Heder made the right move by hiring culturally deaf actors but, in the end, CODA succumbs to the artificial sheen that comes in the guise of a feel-good impression. Lamentably, only the humorous moments prevail.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021)

Direction: Destin Daniel Cretton
Country: USA

Another hectic, effects-drenched superhero film culled from the Marvel compendium, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is likely to satisfy only the core audience seeking for sweaty fist fights and lurid scenarios. However, apart from some interesting visuals, the film reveals to be pretty much flat in everything else.

The story - written by director Destin Daniel Cretton (Short Term 12, 2013; Just Mercy, 2019) with his habitual screenwriter Andrew Lanham and their new teammate Dave Callaham (The Expendables, 2010; Wonder Woman 1984, 2020) - takes our hero, Shang-Chi (Simu Liu), to move from San Francisco, where he works as a valet, to China, where he expects to meet his family. The good news is that his kinetic co-worker and friend Katy (Awkwafina) is delighted to accompany him, while the bad news is that he will have to team up with his estranged sister Xialing (Meng'er Zhang) against their difficult father (Tony Leung), who leads the powerful Ten Rings organization.

The director experienced difficulties in balancing the introspective side of the main character with the extravagant backdrop against which he moves. It’s like joining the dancing kung-fu of Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, the magic of The Never Ending Story and the ridiculous antics of Mortal Kombat in one single setting.

With every beat of the story feeling like an intense relapse of forced tension, the film becomes stupefyingly excessive in its last third, making the big Asian stars Tony Leung and Michelle Yeoh seem like puppets. Unfortunately, and despite the charisma of its first Asian lead, this Marvel adventure is less cool than it thinks it is.

Bad Tales (2021)

Direction: Damiano and Fabio D’Innocenzo
Country: Italy

D’Innocenzo Brothers’ slow-burning sophomore feature, Bad Tales, managed to get much more attention than their 2018 debut, Boys Cry, confirming the strong screenwriting and directional abilities of the twosome.

This oppressive, sharp-eyed drama film takes place over the summer holidays in the Roman urban area of Spinaceto, where a girl’s diary written in green ink takes us to a sordid tale that, according to the narrator, is half-true.

The main protagonists are some cold, apathetic kids - Dennis (Tommaso Di Cola), Geremia (Justin Korovkin), Viola (Giulia Melillo) and Alessia (Giulietta Rebeggiani) - who are also the main victims of a suburban dysfunction that affects a messed up neighborhood. Depraved of real affection, parental education and adequate school orientation, the youngsters are on their own, capable of committing evil actions without a flicker of emotion. In turn, the fathers (especially them) - Bruno (Elio Germano), Pietro (Max Malatesta) and Amelio (Gabriel Montesi) - often show improper behavior in front of their children, reacting to some situations as if they have bipolar disorder or if their kids were their age. In parallel to all this, we also follow the sad path of Vilma (Ileana D’Ambra), an immature older neighbor who is clearly not ready for the child she carries in her womb. 

Mounted with well-developed characters and preserving tension at all times, Bad Tales is a terribly cruel, darkly compelling, sometimes-obscene film that perfectly articulates the toxicity and psychological consequences that result from the severe alienation between parents and children. Technically, the film achieves satisfactory results in the cinematography, editing and art direction departments.

Echo (2021)

Direction: Runar Runarsson
Country: Iceland

The plotless Echo presents us a succession of 56 observant and unrelated vignettes shot mostly with non-professional actors that attempts to illustrate the Icelandic modern society through people’s experiences and behaviors around Christmas time. The film sometimes plays like a poignant drama, other times like a droll comedy, and some others like an intimate, comfortable installment where nothing much is going on.

Writer-director Runar Runarsson confirms the potentialities showed with Volcano (2011) and Sparrows (2015), and gets us pulled into fragments of human life that work better globally than individually. This interesting idea ended up with a competent execution, with episodes of varying duration flowing at a nearly-pendular pulse and cohering in a final intelligible way. Their development may be short but there’s a sense of freedom that I like in the film.

Constantly on the move, this Roy Andersson-inspired mosaic (without the eccentricities) found a subtle, almost delicate way to convey happiness, sadness, trauma, conflict, forgiveness, loneliness, social problems, aging, disappointment, frustration, beliefs and hope. It’s a different Christmas turned never-boring cinematic promenade that resulted more satisfactory than what was initially thought.

Lorelei (2021)

Direction: Sabrina Doyle
Country: USA

From first-time writer-director Sabrina Doyle, a former BBC journalist, arrives Lorelei, a modest if perceptive family drama starred by Jena Malone and Pablo Schreiber. The film examines the meaning of family, the importance of a second opportunity in life, and the nerve needed to change at some point in order to keep us attuned to our wildest dreams. It’s a relatable, simple story set in a small town in rural America. Although it doesn’t really add anything fresh to the drama world, it retreads that ground with enjoyable spontaneity. 

The plot centers on Wayland (Schreiber), a motorcycle club member who, after 15 years in prison for armed robbery, reconnects and moves in with his high school sweetheart, Dolores (Malone), a single mother of three.

The melodramatic mannerisms detected here and there are compensated with some fraught episodes in the life of a couple whose everyday struggle and willing to do better make you keep your fingers crossed for them. Wayland is refreshingly non-violent, caring and thoughtful, whereas Dolores is impulsive, moody and determined.

Fumblingly, Lorelei manages to escape predictability, with Doyle allowing everyone their dignity as she goes for an upbeat finale. Malone becomes the heart and soul of the film but the feelings are more intensely felt whenever the kids are involved.

Memory House (2021)

Direction: João Paulo Miranda Maria
Country: Brazil

João Paulo Miranda Maria’s debut feature, Memory House, delivers pertinent social commentary, fueled by a decent modern-day plot hybridized by primitive Brazilian folklore. However, its accomplishment is somewhat refrained by the uninventive visuals and the austerity in the way it’s presented.

The solitary indigenous Cristovam (veteran Cinema Novo actor Antônio Pitanga), a native of Goiás, has been working for an Austrian dairy company that operates in the South of Brazil for nearly three decades. Ignored by everyone, he only has a three-leg dog waiting for him to arrive at his modest house. He’s often a victim of discrimination and cruelty, and his salary is unfairly cut down as a result of both the economic crisis and the automation of the work. 

When out of the job, he enjoys going to an abandoned house filled with objects that are reminiscent of his roots and people. But he seems more and more disconnected from the world, especially after screwing up the only chance he got to connect with his co-worker Jandira (Aline Marta Maia) and her daughter Jennifer (Ana Flavia Cavalcanti). That’s the last straw for him. There’s an unremitting undertone of doom, and Cristovam realizes he needs to attack to defend himself. 

Quietly heartbreaking and ponderously heavy, this film seems to haunt itself. It literally depicts the gradual poisoning of a marginalized individual through the toxic environment that surrounds him.

Ema (2021)

Direction: Pablo Larraín
Country: Chile

The Chilean Pablo Larraín is a fabulous director, but his newest film, Ema, leaves one with a sense of anticlimax and dissatisfaction, especially after the ridiculous finale. The filmmaker maintains the dark undertones that characterize his films but forgot the sardonic humor in this icy tale of guilt, cynicism and lust that loses consistency with time.

The story, co-written by Larraín, Guillermo Calderón (who worked with director in The Club and Neruda) and Alejandro Moreno, follows a heartless blonde dancer, Ema (Mariana Di Girolamo), who faces widespread social contempt for having returned the Colombian child she adopted with her sterile and inflexible choreographer husband, Gastón (Gael Garcia Bernal), to the social services. Since then, guilt has been consuming their hearts, not to mention that their relationship was heavily affected. Hence, it’s not that strange that love, blame and forgiveness blur with hazy boundaries throughout the film. The plan devised by Ema to reach the child years later is carried out too easily, making us doubt its credibility.

Things can be viscerally painful in one moment and openly voluptuous the next, but it’s clear that the intensity of the performances, especially Di Girolamo in her first leading role, is what pulls the film out of mediocrity. 

Another positive aspect is the soundtrack by Nicolas Jaar, which fits hand-in-glove in the type of mood envisioned by its creators. Pity that the zaniness of the plot prevented Larraín from succeeding this time.

Note: this review was also published on UK’s Flickfeast website

Stillwater (2021)

Direction: Tom McCarthy
Country: USA

Tom McCarthy, the director of the acclaimed Spotlight (2015) and The Visitor (2007), returns with Stillwater, a fairly watchable drama with hints of thriller, featuring Matt Damon in the leading role.

An oil rigger from Oklahoma (Damon) takes an investigative journey to Marseille where his college-aged daughter (Abigail Breslin) is doing time for a crime she says she didn't commit. While trying to locate the presumed suspect in a dangerous neighborhood of the city, this single dad acquires a new family, forging relationships of trust with a theater actress (Camille Cottin) and her little girl (Lilou Siauvaud). But with his mission in mind and some little dirty secrets, will he be able to keep that connection strong? 

Although carrying ambiguity at the heart of the story, the narrative is very direct and simple. This may not be a fast-paced tale, but it actually benefits from that, purring evenly in a quiet, depressive manner. The plot, which McCarthy co-wrote with Thomas Bidegain (A Prophet, 2009; Rust and Bone, 2012), Noé Debré (Dheepan, 2015) and Marcus Hinchey (Come Sunday, 2018), has its flaws, but even failing - sometimes in critical moments like the ending - it still provides something palpable, mostly thanks to Damon who embodies his character with inherent cheerlessness. In the end, Stillwater proves “life’s brutal” to be realistic.

The Suicide Squad (2021)

Direction: James Gunn
Country: USA

Frenzied enough to, at least, keep you awake and alert, The Suicide Squad is a self-satisfied incursion on DC Comics that brims with incorrigible wickedness and gory action. Under the leadership of writer/director James Gunn (The Guardians of the Galaxy, 2014), this new installment is notably superior to the previous one, poorly conceived by David Ayer in 2016. In addiction to the lively humor, the story is supported by an interesting political backdrop that opposes the American government to a Latin-American guerrilla. 

A competent ensemble cast gives life to a bunch of deranged, unlikely heroes tasked with a perilous mission in the island of Corto Maltese. Idris Elba as Bloodsport, John Cera as Peacemaker, Joel Kinnaman as Colonel Flag, Daniela Melchior as Ratcatcher, and David Dastmalchian as the reticent Polka-Dot Man, all do a good job here, but none reaches the heights of Margot Robbie as the unpredictable Harley Quinn, what an acrobatic psycho turned irresistible princess. Her wild romantic encounter and ferocious escape from a torture prison were the most delightful episodes of the film. 

There’s also the voice of Sylvester Stallone giving expression to the voracious King Shark, while the villain scientist, played by Peter Capaldi, is not bad at all. And there’s even a giant alien starfish that threatens to control everyone and destroy everything that moves. 

It’s no clever film, plot-wise, and some characters are definitely better developed than others, but I didn’t find the disappointments to be devastating. Anyway, the outrageous avalanche of anarchy and energy is non-stop.

The Green Knight (2021)

Direction: David Lowery
Country: UK / Ireland / other

Written, directed, edited and co-produced by the gifted David Lowery (A Ghost Story, 2017; The Old Man & The Gun, 2018), The Green Knight is a somber tale whose plot derived from the late 14th-century Arthurian story Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by unknown author. Dark and meditative, this delineation aptly fuses perplexing storytelling with exquisite stylization as well as occult practices with medieval chivalry. 

On Christmas day, the young and fearless Sir Gawain (Dev Patel) accepts the beheading challenge of a sinister and massive creature, the Green Knight (Ralph Ineson), in order to impress his uncle, the noble King Arthur (Sean Harris). One year after, he sets off alone on a perilous journey to meet with his fierce opponent, who is expected to reciprocate the blow. Along the way, Gawain is tricked, robbed and then guided by enormous figures. He also helps the spirit of Saint Winifred (Erin Kellyman), befriends a talking fox, and ends up in a castle inhabited by a Lord (Joel Edgerton ), whose wife (Alicia Vikander) tempts him and subjects him to witchcraft. His courage and word will be tested and a moment of weakness can be fatal.

The efficient score by Lowery’s frequent collaborator Daniel Hart straddles between the ancient and the modern, while the cinematography by Andrew Droz Palermo is stunning. In truth, The Green Knight is fantastically filmed, exerting a strange power of fascination. It can be demanding and baffling at times but never loses the gripping tone that sustains the story… a very dark tone I should say. 

Lowery is more interested in mystical quests than in fierce battles here, and his deeply personal on-screen depiction of the tale takes us so deeply into this feverish, supernatural world that we can almost feel its texture.