کافیلم

دسته: ستارگان سینما و تلویزیون

  • The Roses – Preview | .

    The Roses – Preview | .


    From Jay Roach, the director/producer of comedy hits like Austin Powers, Borat, and Meet the Parents, comes the trailer for his new film, The Roses. The film will be released in UK and Irish cinemas from the first of September.

    Life seems easy for picture-perfect couple Ivy (Olivia Colman) and Theo (Benedict Cumberbatch): successful careers, a loving marriage, great kids. But beneath the façade of their supposed ideal life, a storm is brewing – as Theo’s career nosedives. At the same time, Ivy’s own ambitions take off, a tinderbox of fierce competition and hidden resentment ignites. The Roses is a reimagining of the 1989 classic film The War of the Roses, based on the novel by Warren Adler.

    The film stars Olivia Colman alongside Benedict Cumberbatch. The film also stars Andy Samberg, Allison Janney, Belinda Bromilow, Sunita Mani, Ncuti Gatwa, Jamie Demetriou, Zoë Chao, and Kate McKinnon. The screenplay comes from Tony McNamara, most recently known for his work on Poor Things and The Favourite.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKxhLv3EGlo

    John McArthur
    Latest posts by (see all)



    Source link

  • Sinners – Review

    Sinners – Review


    It’s 1932 in the Mississippi Delta, just three years after the crash. Prohibition prevents escapism found in the bottom of a bottle (but the bottles are there, if you know who to tip). The Klan still don their hoods and lynch young men. African Americans work on plantations in exchange for tokens, not dollars. Poverty is everywhere. More than that; there’s a violence in the air. It crackles like electricity; leaving bodies slick with sweat and fear. 

    That’s the setting for writer / director Ryan Coogler’s Sinners, a supernatural horror with music at its core. Michael B. Jordan plays both Elias and Elijah Moore (primarily known as the Smoke Stack twins), brothers who have come home to the South, having spent time working for Al Capone in Chicago. With a bag of cash, they acquire an old mill and decide to open their own juke joint. They have Irish beer and Italian wine. Their little cousin, Sammie (Miles Caton), is an accomplished blues guitarist and singer who can provide the entertainment. But when Remmick (Jack O’Connell) asks to be let into their club along with two friends, all hell breaks loose … quite literally. 

    Sinners Movie Michael B Jordan

    From the offset, music – specifically the kind of music to be found in juke joints – is described as the work of the devil. It is seen as a way to open the door to spirits, good and bad. Although Sinners is not a musical, you cannot talk about it without acknowledging Ludwig Göransson’s throbbing, pulsating score. In this film, music bridges the gap between life and death; possessing an almost visceral ability to get under your skin and having you toe-tapping along in your cinema seat. There’s a mix of Southern spiritual, raspy blues and gentle Irish laments. The scenes where both Sammie and Pearline (Jayme Lawson) whip the juke crowd into a stomping frenzy are both powerful and captivating to watch. 

    Michael B. Jordan never allows his performance as both Smoke and Stack to be gimmicky. There’s an air of violence about the twins; a danger that seems to permeate through their perfectly tailored suits and glistening gold teeth. Their back story has seen a violent father, World War One and Chicago gangsters shape who they are. It’s a solid performance with layers of pathos and nuance. There’s a magnetism whenever he’s on screen. Similarly, Miles Caton is an actor you cannot take your eyes off. His speaking voice is like velvet and his blues performances are full of soul and wit. Caton shows us a young man desperate to be perceived in the same light as his older cousins; talented enough to break out of town but too naive for the bigger cities. 

    Wunmi Mosaku and Hailee Steinfeld are equally excellent as Annie and Mary, respectively, two women who have had love affairs with the Moore brothers. Mosaku’s Annie, in particular, plays an important part in explaining the lore of the film – of haints, vampires and ancestral music. It is her knowledge that imbues the team behind the juke with the hope of survival. 

    Sinners Movie Jack O'Connell

    Jack O’Connell’s Remmick is uncanny and unsettling. His eyes glow with red embers, as if literally reflecting the gates of hell. Something about his movement also feels off; as if he were doing his best impression of a human. This is notable when he and two of his ‘converts’ sing “Pick Poor Robin Clean” in a bid to enter the juke. They look like mechanical dolls, lifted from the set of a Disney ride. The vampires in this film are both fast on their feet and very, very hungry. Remmick, too, is able to control and agitate them through music. And, although this film has more than a whiff of historical allegory about it, conventional vampire tropes are used. In particular, the need to be invited to cross a threshold is a key plot point. 

    But how Coogler positions the vampires in Sinners is most interesting. Remmick believes his ‘community’ offers a better life for the African Americans living in town. No more lynchings; no more going to war for a country that treats you as less than; no more false accusations; no more life on the run. Besides eternal life, he can offer power – he’s all about equality and love. His is a society drawn by music and shared memories; not Klan attacks and innocents being murdered. It’s an unusual positioning and it makes for a far more compelling supernatural offering. 

    Sinners is a thrilling, pulsating, violent and sensual film that will blow your mind with its incredible score. There’s horror elements, personal trauma, historical allegory and top notch performances. It could easily be one of the films of the year. 

    Sinners is now showing in UK cinemas.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4oqCwr_bzHI

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link

  • Two to One – Review from Glasgow Film Festival

    Two to One – Review from Glasgow Film Festival


    With the reunification of Germany, residents of the former GDR (or DDR, as it’s known in its mother tongue) were given less than a week to trade in their currency at a truly unfavourable rate of ‘two to one’. For an economy that was already shattered, with all state industries on the brink of extinction, it was another hammer blow to the people of the regime. 

    And it’s here where we find Maren (Sandra Hüller) at the start of writer / director Natja Brunckhorst’s Two to One. It’s July 1990 and she’s been made unemployed; as has her husband, Robert (Max Riemelt), and just about everyone else who lives in their apartment block. The socialist architecture of their domestic dwelling in Halberstadt underlines a community entirely dependent on a non-existent state for their income and home. Robert convinces his grouchy uncle Markowski (Peter Kurth) to let him, Maren and Volker (Ronald Zehrfeld) have a look in the state-owned bunker where he works. In there, they find entire caverns full of East German marks. With just days left to cash in as much as they can carry, they must hatch a plan. 

    There’s a relatively playful feel throughout the film. The kaleidoscopic opening credits almost seem to make fun of the concept of money. Even the attempts to break into the bunker are met with a Mission Impossible style score and out-of-breath attempts at sneaking along corridors. This is further evident in the colour palette. When you picture former GDR neighbourhoods, you probably don’t think of sun-dappled yellows, warm corals and striking turquoise. But that is exactly the palette that Brunckhorst employs. Sure, there’s the old Trabant cars and dodgy rip-offs of Western clothing, but the Halberstadt community is anything but grey and austere. It suggests a hope for the future that is yet to be realised. 

    Two to One - Zwei zu eins - Glasgow Film Festival

    At the heart of the film are two parallel stories; a national drama and a personal one. With all the flaws of the GDR laid bare, there’s a disillusionment and an anger that juxtaposes the firmly held beliefs that life won’t be better in the West. “They’ve screwed us all these years,” Robert says to Maren. “But you always knew that,” she shrugs in reply. “Yeah, but I hoped for something else,” he sighs. It’s a quick snippet of dialogue that belies the betrayal and fears of those suddenly finding themselves ‘stateless’. There’s the devastation in realising that the work you were doing ‘for the advancement of socialism’ was nothing more than cheap labour for the West. What can you do when an entire ideology is stripped away from you, becoming meaningless overnight? 

    There’s also commentary on what it means to swap one extreme for the other – does greed immediately replace the ‘greater good’? Does having endless piles of cash and stacks of electronic goods suddenly make you happy? Brunckhorst’s script would suggest not. There’s a desire to share the money and good amongst everyone in the apartment block in order to get one over on the failed regime, but there’s always personal interest and aspirations bubbling away in the background. It’s an interesting insight into real life events. 

    On the personal level, Maren is struggling with Volker’s return, because it is immediately clear that they have had a romantic past. Whilst he urges her to leave for the West – as he did; we first meet him upon his return from Hungary – she is convinced that both he and Robert can live with her in the East. It’s perhaps the weakest part of the film, not least because Robert is allegedly oblivious to their love affair. 

    Two to One - Zwei zu eins - Glasgow Film Festival

    In terms of performances, Peter Kurth gives an engaging turn as the spirit-swigging Markowski; a man who has lived through the horrors of Germany’s past and is utterly devoid of personal politics. Sandra Hüller, although undoubtedly the draw for many here, isn’t given too much to do beyond count cash and keep both the men in her life on an even keel. Max Riemelt adds cheeky humour and genuine hurt to his character; layering both personal and national tragedy on thickly. It’s a pleasing ensemble, and there’s plenty of funny on-liners to keep you engaged. 

    The pace takes a dip towards the end of the second act and into the beginning of the third. Brunckhorst seems to lose the sense of whimsy and fun that really draws you into the film in the opening 45 minutes or so. It’s made up for with a ridiculous ending that is equal parts incredible and entertaining. There’s also lovely archival footage of East German companies who survived past 1990 and facts about the real money bunker – with notes still appearing as recently as the early 2000s.Two to One is an entertaining approach to a period of history that caused personal conflict and national hardship. It’s enough of a light touch to keep you engaged whilst it deals with bigger themes and a traumatic historical backdrop.

    Two to One is up for the Audience Award at the Glasgow Film Festival. Get your tickets here.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCY0Z0-IseU

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link

  • The End – Review from Glasgow Film Festival

    The End – Review from Glasgow Film Festival


    There are certain things that Hollywood simply does not include in its renderings of a post-apocalyptic world. There’s no bright colours; no priceless works of art on the walls; no cosy clothing; no rich food; and certainly no grand pianos. And yet, in Joshua Oppenheimer’s The End, it’s all there. Oh, and it’s a musical. 

    Mother (Tilda Swinton) and Father (Michael Shannon) have managed to escape the hellfires of earth in a luxurious underground bunker. They’ve raised their Son (George Mackay) entirely underground, never allowing anyone else to seek refuge in their little sanctuary. They have a Butler (Tim McInnery), a Maid (Bronagh Kelly) and even a Doctor (Lennie James) to cater to their every need – and their egos. However, the arrival of Girl (Moses Ingram), throws their harmonious survival pact into disarray. She knows too much about what it’s like above surface level and no one in this family is willing enough to confront their past lives. 

    Writers Rasmus Heisterberg and Joshua Oppenheimer certainly know what they are doing when it comes to blending tragedy with humour. There are so many rapid exchanges of dialogue or elements of physical comedy that will have you laughing out loud, only for them to be undercut by dark truths moments later. Indeed, many of the songs in Marius De Vries and Josh Schmidt’s score are mournful ballads that reflect on life as it previously was. 

    The End Tilda Swinton George Mackay

    And the score really is something to behold, here. Although you won’t be familiar with the songs, some of the writing and musical motifs are bound to stay with you for days afterwards. Bronagh Kelly delivers a heartbreaking lullaby to her son who has passed away. It’s incredibly powerful and her vocals are well-matched to the emotion she conveys. Michael Shannon and Tim McInnery deliver a delightfully old-fashioned tap dance sequence and a gentle duet about plucking up the courage to speak to a love interest. George Mackay has a beautiful voice and an impressive range whilst Moses Ingram gives an emotional rendition of “Exhale”, a song about counting each passing second. Tilda Swinton, too, has a powerful solo called “The Mirror”, where she contemplates her relationship with her mother. 

    The performances within this eclectic cast really do deliver beyond singing capabilities. Michael Shannon is hilariously self-aggrandising as he encourages his son to write his life story – one in which he is portrayed as an altruistic oil baron. Tilda Swinton is neurotic, snobby and obsessed with keeping her bunker life ‘just so’. Bronagh Kelly’s Maid is a collection of heartbreak and guilt. Her unravelling is particularly painful to watch because she does seem like a decent, caring person. 

    The End Tilda Swinton Michael Shannon

    George Mackay steals every scene he is in. His character – having never interacted with anyone outside the bunker – is physically and verbally awkward. He’s so keen to be noticed and say his piece, even when it’s not the most emotionally intelligent thing to say. It’s a genuine, warm and engaging performance from Mackay, who has excellent on screen chemistry with Moses Ingram. Ingram’s character is so much more wary and damaged than the mollycoddled bunker dwellers, having had to survive above ground her entire life. She brings hard truths and trauma to the family – something that causes their perfectly curated life to splinter and split. 

    There are a couple of pacing dips in The End. It has a two and a half hour run time and there are particular scenes or conversations that feel like they could be shortened or cut entirely. But hey, it’s the end of the world, you’ve got the time. The End probably isn’t going to be for everyone. And that’s okay, not every film needs to be. If you enjoy musicals, this is something new for you to fall in love with. If you enjoy people-driven drama, conflict and nuance, then this will likely work for you, too. It’s almost like a curious little study of human behaviour, with each character aware of the artifice of the setting and of themselves. Definitely worth the watch if you enjoy seeing familiar genres executed with a new and different flair.

    The End had its Scottish premiere at the Glasgow Film Festival. Find out more here.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avvm0e4oNCE

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link

  • The New Year That Never Came

    The New Year That Never Came


    In December 1989, whilst the Western World was gearing up for Christmas celebrations, things looked markedly different in Communist Romania. Ruled with an iron fist by Nicolae Ceaușescu, the country was on the brink of revolution. Overthrowing the much maligned leader resulted in violent bloodshed across a number of towns and cities, with protests in the city of Timișoara paving the way for Bucharest to stage its own revolt. 

    That is the backdrop for writer / director Bogdan Muresanu’s historical drama, The New Year That Never Came. It’s just four days before Christmas and Romania hovers on the precipice of change. Whilst the festive television broadcasts prepare to praise Ceaușescu, the citizens of the capital are disillusioned and scared. This feature length debut sees six different stories intersect as Romania decides its own fate. 

    This chapter in history is perhaps one that Western cinema, in particular, is not entirely familiar with, despite its bloody and dramatic consequences. Muresanu keeps the pace steady throughout, encouraging viewers to truly embed themselves in the lives they are seeing on screen. He provides a sense of what was really going on – the paranoia, spying, censorship and violence that was rooted in the regime right until the very end. Even the most ardent of Ceaușescu supporters are quick to burn their files and disavow the very rules they so heartily imposed. It’s fascinating and complex, as all pivotal moments in history are. By placing the story in the hands of ordinary people, Muresanu keeps things authentic and engaging. 

    The New Year That Never Came Glasgow Film Festival 2025

    Margareta (Emilia Dobrin) initially joined the party through choice and genuine belief. Now, as she packs up her belongings and heads for a tiny, state-appointed flat, she is jaded and disillusioned with the regime. Her son, Dinca (Iulian Postelnicu), runs a flagging student informer ring. Florina (Nicoleta Hâncu) is a theatre actress, drafted in at the last minute to perform the New Year’s message. But she cannot bring herself to “ass kiss”, in light of recent tragedies. Gelu (Adrian Vancica) is a manual worker who is potentially facing jail time, if his son’s letter to Santa is read by anyone in authority. Vlad (Vlad Ionut Popescu) and Laurentiu (Andrei Miercure) are students who are planning to defect by crossing the Danube in the dead of night. 

    The screen feels drained of colour as Muresanu uses a palette of smoky greys, arid browns and steel blues. Apartments are weighed down with dark, old-fashioned furniture and clashing patterns of mustard, cinnamon and chestnut. Televisions and radios flicker on and off to assert that the army are simply doing their job to protect good citizens; protestors are a terrible threat to civilised society. Students, in their uniforms of tracksuit tops and shaggy hair, are attempting to defect. Indeed, a leading television star has also done so – ruining the planned New Year’s message. Every scene, every conversation feels laden with a danger that no one dares articulate. Instead, it’s in what these characters don’t say where the truth lies. 

    The New Year That Never Came Glasgow Film Festival 2025

    Muresanu also revels a little in the absurdity of the situation. Florina asks her domestic abuser neighbour to beat her up, too, so she can avoid her television appearance. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to do that for you?” he replies. We then see her slapping her own face with a large rubber fly swatter instead. Gelu panics that he is headed for prison when his son states – in a piece of school work – that his father’s wish is for “Uncle Nick” to die. He insists his son re-write the piece, lest he find himself facing the firing squad. Laurentiu, having received the beating of his life from a man in military uniform, is made to sign a false confession even as the regime collapses. Margareta tries to kill herself but cannot because the government has switched the gas off in her apartment block. This is not to say we are encouraged to laugh at these characters, but rather the ridiculousness of the regime itself. 

    Ravel’s Bolero is used to bring the film to its conclusion, lacing the fates of all the characters together with the fate of the country. It is chaotic as Muresanu alternates between characters in their final moments of life under Ceaușescu. It is a frenzied and violent bid for peace and prosperity; for freedom. Archival footage of the packed streets and determined citizens – the scale of it really is incredible to behold – bring us neatly to the credits along with the prominent percussion of the music. It is a very powerful moment of cinema. 

    Whilst the pacing might prove too slow for some, Bogdan Muresanu’s drama, The New Year That Never Came is an interesting exploration of a dramatic chapter of history. It blends private stories with public consequences seamlessly and is made compelling by some very strong performances.

    The New Year That Never Came is screening at the Glasgow Film Festival 2025. Get your tickets here.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xLEClUljJQ

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link

  • The Ballad of Wallis Island

    The Ballad of Wallis Island


    Music has a way of tying us to a time or place. An unforgettable gig, shared with a friend. A first dance at a wedding. A loved one’s personal favourite. School days, holidays and special occasions all have their own soundtrack; a piece of music that brings a smile to your lips or makes your eyes water in remembrance. It’s a powerful thing to experience. 

    Herb McGwyer (Tom Basden) used to make music that moved people, back when he performed in a duo with Nell Mortimer (Carey Mulligan). Now, his solo career is seriously in need of some funds and Nell has given it all up to make chutney. So, when Charles Heath (Tim Key) offers the pair hundreds of thousands of pounds to perform a gig on Wallis Island, both accept unquestioningly. But the days spent on this remote Welsh island have a transformational effect on all involved. Music really does have a power of its own. 

    The Ballad of Wallis Island

    James Griffiths directs, whilst Basden and Key have written the script, based on their own short film. The writing is so sharp and so funny, you’ll almost struggle to catch your breath. Charles, in particular, is such a hilarious character, purposefully mis-pronouncing his lines or making terribly timed puns. It’s a story that feels universal – as the film deals with nostalgia and loss via music – yet the jokes are uniquely British. (There’s a particular reference to Harold Shipman that had many in the Glasgow Film Festival audience choking on their sauvignon.)

    The performances are all excellent and the chemistry between the cast is palpable. Tim Key somehow manages to make Charles the most infuriating, hilarious and empathetic character all at the same time. Tom Basden gives you every inch the jaded star you’d expect – he’s huffy and demanding; but ultimately bruised by his experiences in the industry. His duets with Carey Mulligan’s Nell are genuinely beautiful to listen to. Nell, in contrast to her brusque former partner, is gentle and nurturing. Sian Clifford also appears in a supporting role as local shop owner, Amanda, a role that gives rise to equal parts comedy and romance. 

    At the heart of it all are themes of grieving and memory. Charles is unable to detatch himself from his notion of who McGwyer and Mortimer once were, because it keeps him in the cosy nostalgic glow of a period of time in his life when he was happy. Herb is mourning is lack of solo success and finds himself battling unexpected jealousies when he realises that Nell no longer misses their former life. It’s the music that links the three leads, but they all have a different connection to it and a different sense of the role it played in their lives. It’s an interesting take on the notion that music is something that binds us together. There’s a scene on the local beach, where Nell encourages them to write their hopes and dreams for the future on some lanterns she’s bought, and you can tell that Herb, in particular, is struggling to see what the future might hold for him, so wrapped up is he in the past. 

    The Ballad of Wallis Island

    The soundtrack, like the film itself, is warm and folksy. For some, it might all feel a bit twee and on the nose but there’s something so heartwarming about it all that you’ll be willing to overlook that. Basden and Mulligan both have excellent singing voices and they blend together beautifully. Their love songs – and the on screen chemistry they share whilst performing them – are genuinely gorgeous. So much so, that some performances may have a few bottom lips trembling. And that’s what is so great about this film – the comedy is razor sharp but the drama that unfolds is genuinely upsetting. Both the writing and the performances know how to maximise both elements for the most amount of impact. 

    If you’re looking for a genuinely entertaining bit of British cinema, showcasing the striking Welsh coastline and phenomenal local talent, The Ballad of Wallis Island is a must see. It’s gentle when it needs to be, utterly hilarious and unapologetically good for the soul.

    The Ballad of Wallis Island was the Surprise Film for the 2025 Glasgow Film Festival. It’s due for release in US cinemas on March 28 and UK cinemas on May 30.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTi-e20yVNs

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link

  • From Hilde, With Love – Review from Glasgow Film Festival

    From Hilde, With Love – Review from Glasgow Film Festival


    German cinema has long been coming to terms with the nation’s past. Films like Downfall, Sophie Scholl: The Last Days, The Tin Drum and Das Boot, all offer a unique perspective on life in Germany during World War Two. It’s a confronting position, as a viewer, that often makes you wonder if you could ever defy the horrors that unfold onscreen. 

    One woman who did attempt to defy the Nazi regime was Hilde Coppi (Liv Lisa Fries). Along with her husband, Hans (Johannes Hegemann), she sent radio messages in Morse code to Russia, distributed anti-Nazi materials across Berlin, put up anti-Nazi posters around the city and wrote letters to mothers whose sons were named on Radio Moscow. Both she and Hans were part of a friendship group who undertook all of these activities, knowing that getting caught would mean death. Director Andreas Dresen’s film, From Hilde, With Love, is told in a non-linear structure, allowing us to get a full and compelling understanding of a woman who stood up to be counted. 

    From Hilde With Love Glasgow Film Festival

    What’s interesting about Hilde’s story is that we’re even getting to hear about it at all. So many films in the war genre focus on the derring-do of male spies or resistors. Indeed, this could have been a film about Hans. But writer Laila Stieler gives us a fascinating portrayal of Hilde, instead, both as a young woman and during her incarceration at Plötzensee. It’s not a hagiography, either, as her flaws are laid bare through Liv Lisa Fries’ formidable central performance. She is complex and full of life; a woman you can admire and pity. 

    Owing the narrative structure, the film jumps back and forth throughout Hilde’s life. When we meet her in the past, the scenes are vibrant and colourful, infused with a cosy yellow glow. There’s dances and sex and drinking. Even when the friends are plotting their next move, there’s a joyfulness about their decision to take a stand. We get to watch a beautiful love story, too, as Hans slowly becomes less wary about his “prudish” new recruit. That, too, breathes life into both characters as we get to see them in moments of desire and bliss. In contrast, Hilde’s present is full of steely greys and sterile blues; hospital creams and washed out greens. Prison life is harsh and unforgiving – not least because Hilde has just given birth to a son and the restrictive diet means she is not producing enough milk for him to survive. 

    The performances give the film the weight that it needs. Liv Lisa Fries is utterly captivating as Hilde. It is a deeply complex, emotional performance that allows us to see Hilde at her rational best and devastated worst. She isn’t just some grainy photograph in a history book, she is a living, breathing woman fighting for her life. Fries rejects the cliche of the ‘warrior woman’ and, instead, gives us a historical figure who is practical, softly-spoken and interesting. She possesses a resilience that neither her mother nor her fellow prisoners seem to emulate. It’s incredibly powerful to watch. She also does a phenomenal job with a botched birth scene that is difficult to endure as a viewer. 

    From Hilde With Love Glasgow Film Festival

    The drudgery of prison life is fully realised, here, but you cannot help but feel the palpable tension that permeates the cell doors. Hilde’s particular wing of political prisoners have yet to face their farcical trials and death is surely just a signature away. That unease is always lingering below the surface, even when Hilde is spending time with her son or nursing other prisoners. The thin blade of the guillotine feels mere inches away, at all times. When it does come, we are given a beautiful moment of Hilde enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face one last time, before Teutonic efficiency means it’s her turn to place her neck on the block. 

    From Hilde, With Love is not designed to make you cry; it’s meant to make you feel the weight of history on your shoulders. It should make you question if you could ever be so brave (and perhaps thankful that you’ve never had to be). It’s a truly fascinating portrait of one of World War Two’s most compelling figures. 

    From Hilde, With Love has its UK premiere at the Glasgow Film Festival. Get your tickets here.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFj7RVBRD1o

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link

  • The Players – Review from Glasgow Film Festival

    The Players – Review from Glasgow Film Festival


    “You can’t just quit a show because a director made you feel weird. You’ll never get hired again,” fifteen year old Emily is warned by a fellow actor. It’s dubious and harmful advice, to say the least. But it’s typical of the kind of nonchalance that all of the adults in Emily’s life display. She is let down all of the adults around her whilst she participates in an emotionally abusive and exploitative avant-garde theatre troupe. 

    Writer / director Sarah Galea-Davis’s film The Players makes its international debut at the Glasgow Film Festival. It’s quiet, intense and brooding; it’s devoid of the histrionics you might expect of a close-knit theatre ensemble. Instead, it’s dripping with sepia toned theatre lights, unsteady close ups and unsettling dynamics. It’s an exploration of power within the theatre scene; how easy it is for “direction” to become an excuse for humiliation and taking advantage. 

    It’s summer 1994. Emily (Stefani Kimber) has found herself plucked from obscurity and cast in a seven hour version of Hamlet, where half the script has been replaced by movement pieces and interpretive dance. She is thrilled to be accepted by her much older colleagues, as life at home has not been smooth of late due to her parents’ separation. But when director Reinhardt Frank (Vikings’ Eric Johnson) starts to pay her more and more attention, Emily struggles to cope with the very adult situation she finds herself in. 

    The Players - Glasgow Film Festival 2025

    What starts off as seemingly innocent fun – a glass of booze to join the adults in a toast or a sneaked cigarette to feel grown up – quickly descends into outright manipulation. Reinhardt declares that Emily would look better with short hair and so his girlfriend, Marley (Jess Salgueiro) gets the scissors out. No one bats an eyelid, either, when he suggests setting Emily’s costume on fire. Excuse and after excuse is doled out for a pattern of predatory behaviour with young ingenues. Galea-Davis is strong in her condemnation of Reinhardt – he is a pretentious, odious man with a fragile ego – but equally of those around him. Why is no one stepping in? Why is no one calling it out? 

    Kimber and Johnson are excellent in their respective roles. Kimber brings youthful enthusiasm in abundance to Emily. Initially, she is full of adolescent awkwardness, repeatedly tucking her hair behind her ears and shy about her performance abilities. In conversation, she is earnest in her attempt to appear interesting and experienced around her grown up colleagues. She, no doubt, sees this theatre family as a replacement for her flight mother and angry father. She is vulnerable; something Reinhardt spots from the offset. 

    Johnson is stroppy and charming; passionate and dangerous. More often than not, his temper (and his ego) get the better of him. His desire to dominate clearly stems from feelings of inadequacy. There’s a particularly glorious scene where a festival director explains that he hasn’t seen his latest work, “… but my assistant said she was riveted.” Johnson’s eyes burn with humiliation and rage. He is the one who does the bruising. His ability to switch between softly spoken compliments and firmly gripped instructions is quite alarming to behold. It’s an intense performance that revels, somewhat, in its loathsomeness. 

    The Players - Glasgow Film Festival 2025

    “All directors are going to want to sleep with you … You gotta play the game,” an actress unhelpfully suggests. The Players raises a lot of questions about the theatre world. Why are all of these adults having such emotionally complex and intimate conversations with a sheltered fifteen year old girl? How can these women victim blame someone so vulnerable? Where is the sense of sisterhood and shared experience? But, of course, these questions have come up time and again since the #MeToo movement really took hold and the answers are rarely simple. Galea-Davis wants us, as viewers, to feel anger and disgust. But would we behave any differently, she seems to ask. The Players is an interesting, complex film that exposes the potential abuses within the theatre industry. It’s quietly dangerous and emotionally charged throughout. Both Stefani Kimber and Eric Johnson are magnetic leads.

    The Players is showing at Glasgow Film Festival 2025. Get your tickets here.

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link

  • Review from Glasgow Film Festival

    Review from Glasgow Film Festival


    They say that life imitates art. And that is certainly the premise for writer / director Jin-hwang Kim’s second feature length film, Nocturnal, where a murder plot seems to have been lifted directly from a best-selling book. It’s a confident offering from the Korean director; a gritty neo-noir that isn’t afraid to plunge you into the heart of the action.

    Bae Min-Tae (Ha Jung-Woo) hasn’t been out of prison for all that long. His drug addict brother, Bae Seok-Tae (Park Jong-Hwan), has been found dead in a neon-lit karaoke bar. More than this, his brother’s girlfriend, Cha Moon-Young (Yoo Da-In) appears to be on the run. Could she have ordered the killing? Or has Bae Seok-Tae done something to displease local crime boss, Chang Mo (Jeong Man-Sik)? And why does his death closely resemble the novel of one of Cha Moon-Young’s former lecturers? 

    Nocturnal is definitely a film where you have to pay attention. This isn’t your regular revenge thriller or cat and mouse chase. For one thing, there are four cats. Jin-hwang Kim manages to expertly weave competing storylines together, complete with flashbacks, to keep you engrossed until the very last scenes. The large cast of characters almost feels like a bit of world-building, and the ending will certainly leave you wanting more, which is always pleasing. 

    Nocturnal - Glasgow Film Festival 2025

    One element bound to hook your attention is the violence. Even the flashback to Bae Seok-Tae’s death is visceral and unflinching. Bae Min-Tae is both ruthless and fearless. Not once does he back away from a fight – even when he is heavily outnumbered. We see him threaten two elderly shopkeepers with a large gas canister and a lighter; we see him beat a man (almost to death) with a coat stand. His weapon of choice is a pipe, and we regularly hear the crunch of metal on bone, complete with a bloodied close up. The fight choreography is impressive. As viewers, we can enjoy (or wince at) overhead tracking shots, slickly edited short, sharp cuts or 360 shots round an entire gang of Chang Mo’s goons. One particular scene, in which Bae Min-Tae clatters someone’s head off a perspex window, gives a gloriously thunderous percussive effect. 

    But it’s not all about flashy or blood-streaked visuals. The performances are excellent, here, too. Ha Jung-Woo carries the film with a steely determination that is never spoken but always evident. As he pieces together the last few days of his brother’s life, you get the sense that both siblings were trapped in an endless cycle of violence, addiction and gang life. Not one to display weakness, we get glimpses of his hurt through a lingering hand over a book; a desperate panting when the end seems in sight. It’s a very nuanced performance, albeit a physically charged one. He provides a neat contrast to Kim Nam-Gil’s Kang-Ho Ryeong, the author of the titular novel who is perpetually in neat polo necks and glasses. 

    Nocturnal - Glasgow Film Festival 2025

    The cat(s) and mouse chase at the heart of the film is what keeps the pacing tight. We follow each individual in pursuit of Cha Moon-Young (Bae Min-Tae, Chang Mo, the police and the novelist), almost trying to stay one step ahead of each of them. There are no obvious clues to track, as such, just an awareness that Kang-Ho Ryeong’s story is said to provide the outcome for this particular murder mystery. As each of them pursues their own agenda, we as viewers get to piece together the story of Bae Seok-Tae’s past and his relationship with Cha Moon-Young. Their story is both dramatic and depressing, wrapped up in the side effects of addiction and violence – a long way from the glamour of the karaoke bar or Chang Mo’s tailored suits. 

    Nocturnal is a must see for lovers of a good crime drama that’s willing to get its hands dirty. It’s got car chases, personal vendettas, crime gangs and thrilling moments of tension. The last five minutes alone are well worth the ticket price. A seriously entertaining piece of cinema.

    Nocturnal has its European Premiere at the Glasgow Film Festival. Get your tickets here.

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link

  • Review from Glasgow Film Festival

    Review from Glasgow Film Festival


    Michael Premo’s documentary, Homegrown, opens with Chris building nursery furniture for the birth of his son. He’s wearing a t-shirt with 1776 in a circle of stars. A reference to the Declaration of Independence or Trump’s 1776 report, perhaps. He’s pumped up, as he talks to the camera. “If you think DC was bad … just wait,” he grins. “Just wait.” 

    People across the world remember DC. Specifically, the storming of the Capitol Building on January 6 by pro-Trump supporters who believed that the 2020 election of just three months prior was stolen from their chosen candidate. It felt like the unravelling of one of the greatest political systems in the world. It was a dark day for all sides of the voting spectrum, with crimson blood splattered and streaming down the pale marble steps of democracy. 

    Premo takes an objective stance to his documentary subjects. Chris, the father to be, is regularly called by his wife to ensure that he’s wearing a mask at all of the various rallies he attends. She’s seven months pregnant and doesn’t want him bringing Covid home. We meet Randy, an older man who is convinced that civil war is afoot. We are also introduced to Thad, a Latino ex-serviceman who espouses conservative family values. He has four children, two of whom he is trying to bring to the United States. He is perhaps the most conflicting of the trio. 

    Homegrown Documentary Glasgow Film Festival 2025

    We see pro-Trump rallies of all sizes and demographics. Men wearing camo, beers in hand, recite the Proud Boy oath which declares them Western chauvinists. They point to bumper stickers that say things like “Fuck Your Feelings” and “Even Covid Choose Trump”. Don’t Tread on Me and Thin Blue Line flags are draped over cars and fences. There are jokes about shooting and crucifying those with opposing views. 

    And all of this is captured, without hesitation, on camera. Which does rather make you wonder what might be being said behind closed doors if this is the content that is out in the open. No one seems quite able to explain what Trump has actually done to improve their lives. “I’m in love with what he’s done for the people in terms of … uh … unification,” says Thad, who also finds himself at Black Lives Matter events. 

    Chris features most prominently in the documentary, giving us a tour of his windowless man cave, stacked with AR-15s, twelve gauge AK-47s and AR-10s. He believes that “Ninety to ninety five per cent” of cop killings are justified. “Are you legal?” he shouts, boorishly, at an Asian protestor who is heckling his Trump rally. Chris’s wife is a Chinese immigrant. 

    What Premo captures perfectly is how long this feeling of unrest and chaos has been brewing within certain circles. Trump’s election defeat prompts immediate calls of interference and robbery. Online platforms quickly raise a literal call to arms. This seems like the perfect outlet for months of pent up hatred and bile. As the bitterness of defeat sinks in, the chance to “mobilise” and spread fear, seems like the only option for a taste of power. Chants of “The election isn’t over until we say it is” and “Who’s streets? Our streets?” are laced with a violence that is palpable. 

    Homegrown Documentary Glasgow Film Festival 2025

    The excitement at the thought of actually storming a government building is written all over Chris’s face. He’s packed tasers and knives under the guise of a survival kit. It is him we follow into a tight, dark corridor as pro-Trump supporters attempt to push their way past riot police. He is pepper sprayed several times, leaving his eyes weeping and his skin raw. Premo alternates between his own footage and the body cameras of the police front line. Chris is a vocal agitator, shouting obscenities in the face of those trying to protect the Capitol. “I’m gonna drag Pelosi out by her fucking toes,” he yells at the crowd, whipping groups of men into a frenzy. The disorientating camerawork amongst the violent clashes adds a claustrophobic layer to the spiralling chaos. 

    The film ends with Thad being disavowed by the Proud Boys for his involvement in the BLM movement whilst Chris receives one of the longest prison sentences attached to the riots – 12 years. His newborn son will be a teenager before he will properly meet his father. Randy, meanwhile, is seen sitting on the back of a pick up track, rounding up yet another crowd to inflict violence upon cars and passers by. The news cycle, the echo chamber, the unrest has not stopped. Will it ever, Premo seems to ask.

    Homegrown is showing at the Glasgow Film Festival 2025. Get your tickets here.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=na6rWo4oK_A

    Mary Munoz
    Latest posts by Mary Munoz (see all)



    Source link