Filmora – A free editing software with a lot of great presets. This program is perfect for new editors but even a savvy editor can have fun and elevated projects with this software. There is a text, animation and sound package included and an option to upgrade.
iMovie – A free editing software available on iphones and Mac computers. Great for beginners and for making simple quick edits. There is a text, animation and sound package included.
WeVideo – A free editing app available on phones, PC and Mac computers. This program is cloud based. You shoot video on your phone and upload the footage into your WeVideo App. When you open the project on your computer it is there waiting for you. Does not have reverse or a proper cropping tool. Upgrade option available.
CapCut – A free editing app available on phones, PC and Mac computers. Great for editing on the run. If you like fan edits this program is loaded with great animated text and powerful preset transitions making beginners look like pros.
Final Cut Pro – Is NOT a free editing software but has nearly all of the capabilities as pro editing software. The interface is very user friendly and as easy to use as a basic editing program.
Premiere Pro – Is NOT a free editing program. This is a professional level program. Premiere is a part of the Adobe Suite and works via “Dynamic Link” with other programs like After Effects. The user interface is complicated and you will need a teacher and tutorials to navigate the program.
DaVinci Resolve – Is a free editing program. This is a professional level program. The cool part is the option to make the interface look like Final Cut or Premiere. There is a learning curve to the program but it is free. Also known for its color grading capabilities.
Film and Television Lessons
After Effects – Is NOT a free editing program. This is a professional level program. It can work with Premiere Pro via “Dynamic Link” as well as with other Adobe programs. The user interface is extremely complicated and you will need tutorials to navigate the program. Also, you should go in with a plan of what effect you would like to try, then practice executing that effect.
Scripts, Storyboards, Writing, Camera, Shots, Lessons, Editing Exercises and Film Projects.
Screengoat builds your skills as a filmmaker with tools and resources to help you become a GOAT.
Animoto – Is a free editing program but is more like an animated PowerPoint program. This is what we love about it. You can create animated title graphics over chroma key green or animated backgrounds for titles or bumpers in seconds. Super easy to use. The program leaves a watermark but it is easy to crop out. The program also has a lot of public domain images and music. Kicks Presentation up a knotch.
That Was My Review of…..Reflection in a Dead Diamond
In 1988, Alex Cox introduced films broadcast on BBC with a segment called Moviedrome. When talking about Diva (1981), he said, “It’s the sort of film that American movie critics like very much because it’s big on style, short on substance, and in French. It’s the kind of film that gets called scintillating or fabulous frothy fun.” He concluded by saying that “it features musical selections from the noted opera, La Wally, un des mes favoris.” I had a recording of the film and that introduction for a long time, and I thought about it after watching Reflection in a Dead Diamond. The first reflection one makes is that American critics have changed significantly since then.
Reflection in a Dead Diamond (Reflet dans un diamant mort) is the fourth feature film directed by Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani. I stress the word directed since their films seriously focus on the cinematic aspects of the medium, which is all too rare nowadays. The film had its world premiere in the Berlinale Competition. It was the couple’s first film in a major competition after their previous two films were premiered at Locarno in the Piazza Grande strand. If I have been hiding behind the statement that favourite films are the most difficult to describe, this one tops them all. Even discussing the beginning and end is perilous when describing this diamond-fashioned narrative.
Reflection in a Dead Diamond
Early on, we see the elderly John Diman (Fabio Testi) at a beach on the French Riviera. He watches a girl from a distance. Suddenly, her diamond nipple ring sparkles in the sunlight and seems to trigger a memory in John’s mind that looks suspiciously like a movie ending with the young John (Yannick Renier) on a yacht with a girl and a box of diamonds. Then, some closing credits appear, saying, “C’était Reflet dans un diamant mort”. That text also serves as the opening credits of the film we are watching. What conspires in the remainder of the film is open to interpretation, and anyone looking for a straightforward narrative would be better off watching Mission Impossible (1996).
“It’s been said about my work that the search for style has often resulted in a want of feeling. However I’d put it another way, I’d say that style is feeling, in its most elegant and economic expression.” -Clive Langham
During the interview with the directors, they described how they built the story with three narrative lines in different colours. While sticking with the term story, they also stressed that they wanted to tell it with cinematographic means rather than dialogue. Hélène Cattet clearly stated that there is no contrast between the form and the content but that it’s one thing. It is similar to how the Clive Langham quote in Alain Resnais’ and writer David Mercer’sProvidence (1977) brushes off the dichotomy between style and feelings. In that film, Clive, an author, makes up a narrative containing family members, but he constantly loses control over it.
Diamonds are Not Forever
The most ordinary way to describe the film would be that the ageing John looks back on his former life as a spy at a time when the Côte d’Azur was still a glamorous place rather than the tacky surroundings that greet attendants at the Cannes Film Festival nowadays. However, the film never clarifies whether we witness memories, fantasies, dreams, or all of them mixed up. It is no coincidence that the word diamond appears in the title since it mirrors the film’s complex structure. The usage of the word clarifies might be a tad unjust since the film’s various facets are never muddled or unclear, but how those elements fit together is a different story.
Yannick Renier in Reflection in a Dead Diamond
The directors have pointed to influences like the Eurospy films of the sixties, which tried to compete with the actual James Bond films but with a fraction of their budget. It is not difficult to spot references to Diabolik (1968), for instance. Regarding the structure, Satoshi Kon was mentioned with his kind of 3D narrative. The constant playfulness made me think about the films of Raoul Ruiz, not only Le Temps retrouvé (1999) but also the ones that toy with clichés and where characters suddenly do the most unexpected things. Another film that came to my mind was Ruben Brandt: Collector, with its irreverent and mischievous references to everything from Infanta Margarita in a Blue Dress to Pulp Fiction.
In a pivotal scene, young John undergoes a briefing where he learns about the opponents he is about to face. Among them are Serpentik, whom we encounter several times in different shapes and forms (and actresses), but the most dangerous is Kinetik. What makes him so dangerous is that he hypnotises his victims to make them believe that they are in a film. The spell only ends when they see the word fin, marking the end. This is a perfect metaphor for the structure of the film. Maybe parts or all of John’s story drive from this state of consciousness. Also, isn’t this the perfect way to describe what filmmakers wish to achieve with their audience?
The implications are numerous, and in my mind, this is the core of Reflection in a Dead Diamond. The fractured but beautiful illusion might refer to cinema itself. The Kinetik character alone would warrant a thesis or two. Going back to the beginning (or end) of this review, Alex Cox’s notion about style contra substance, which might have been said in jest, is shattered here into a myriad of crystal-clear diamond facets. His mention of the Diva score is interesting because Cattet and Forzani use not only the same piece of music but also the exact same recording used in Beineix’s film. One giveaway is an introduction that only exists in this version.
If my description of Reflection in a Dead Diamond makes it sound academic, nothing could be further from the truth. This is not only the directors’ most accomplished film to date but also one of the most thrilling, beautiful, sexy and bewildering works you will likely watch this year. It is indeed “scintillating and fabulous frothy fun.” I wouldn’t mind if I was hypnotised by Kinetik and had to live inside this film for a long time.
Seen in the Berlinale Competition, where it inexplicably walked away empty-handed.
The Ice Tower (La tour de glace) is the fourth feature by Lucile Hadžihalilović. The film premiered in the 2025 Berlinale competition, making it the first time that any of the director’s films was presented in a major European competition. The previous films all opened at TIFF. Set in the 1970s, the film follows Jeanne (Clara Pacini), a 15-year-old orphan who flees her foster home in a snowy mountain village, seeking freedom in the city. After stealing the ID of a girl named Bianca and looking for a place to sleep, she breaks into a building, unaware it’s a film studio where The Snow Queen is being filmed, starring the renowned actress Cristina van den Berg (Marion Cotillard).
Jeanne is discovered by Cristina, but instead of giving her up, the latter ends up getting a bit part in the production, and the two end up spending a significant amount of time together even though Jeanne, sorry Bianca, seems to have an obsession with Cristina. Or is it due to the part she plays? As the oldest in the foster home, she was the bedtime storyteller, and the story she told was, lo and behold, the Snow Queen’s. What a coincidence! It is almost like someone made the story up. I use the word story loosely. Anyone who has seen Hadžihalilović’s previous films knows that it is not her main objective; instead, she focuses on… That is the question.
Beautiful and layered or merely muddled?
What is the focus of The Ice Tower? What lies in or behind the supposedly beautiful images with their carefully chosen props? An image early on is a litmus test for how the spectator will react to the film. While fleeing, Bianca encounters a bridge crossing a river. The way the bridge is lit and framed looks either intense and captivating or like a knockoff by someone who watched arthouse films without ever getting their essence. It is not the artificiality that is the issue. Other directors like Guy Maddin or Wojciech Has have repeatedly utilised artifice with full control of the medium. Something that Hadžihalilović is never close to achieving. Instead, we are treated to kitschy ennui.
The Ice Tower powered by dry ice
My mind drifted to the Quay Brothers’ tedious version of Sanatorium Under the Hourglass more than once. That film’s runtime was 75 minutes, but it felt longer. The Ice Tower clocks in at 118 minutes, which feels like an eternity. The pacing is glacial, which could inspire the spectator to make word puns considering the main character. Whatever the outcome, it is bound to be way more subtle than Jeanne calling herself Bianca, referring to the fake white stuff floating in the air during the shooting of the film within the film.
Fans of Hadžihalilović’s work should feel at home. The production designer Julia Irribarria and the cinematographer Jonathan Ricquebourg from Earwig (2021) are still on board. The director’s style, or lack thereof, is instantly recognisable. In Arthur Penn’s masterful Night Moves (1975), Harry Moseby’s wife invites him to see My Night With Maude with her. He rejects the suggestion, saying that “he saw a Rohmer film once, and It was kind of like watching paint dry.” I was considering making a similar pun with dry ice, but as everyone who had it presented along with a dessert in a restaurant knows, it actually creates an effect.
Clara Pacini and August Diehl in The Ice Tower.
I have never been a fan of Hadžihalilović’s films, thinking that they rely too much on a vague mood with purportedly deep connotations. However, the Stockholm Film Festival awarded her the MaIn Prize, The Bronze Horse, for her debut feature, Innocence (2004), which incidentally also featured Marion Cottilard. In The Ice Tower, all thethespians seem deserted and lost, including August Diehl and Gaspar Noé as the director. The shining exception is newcomer Clara Pacini, as Jeanne, whose character is the only one who doesn’t appear to be frozen by boredom. It is not the first time that the director seems most confident working with children.
I was surprised to come across some positive reviews, even if many of them contained serious reservations. An even bigger surprise was the Silver Bear the film received for Outstanding Artistic Contribution. The award was given to “the creative ensemble.” If any film should have been awarded for its look, it is Reflection in a Dead Diamond (Reflet dans un diamant mort).
Today, sixteen titles became the additions to the Cannes selection 2025, two of which will be in the Competition. The eagerly awaited Lynne Ramsay film Die, My Love was finally confirmed after some time of speculation. All four of the director’s films have been presented at Cannes. The latest was the masterful You Were Never Really Here in 2017, which won the Best Screenplay award and the Best Actor award to Joaquin Phoenix. The new work stars Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson. The other addition to the competition is Saeed Roustay’s Mother & Child. The director’s latest film in Cannes was the overrated Leila’s Brothers in 2022.
Jennifer Lawrence in Die, My Love by Lynne Ramsay.
Other additions to the Cannes Selection
There are four additions in Un Certain Regard. The most interesting is I Only Rest in the Storm by Pedro Pinho. It is co-produced by the reliable Still Moving, which brought us the brilliant Tiger Stripes two years ago. The three other additions are Love Me Tenderby Anna Cazenave Cambet, Kristen Stewart’s The Chronology of Water, and Un poeta by Mesa Soto. The Cannes Premiere section, which started in 2021 and has since then mostly functioned as a thinly veiled ruse to stop other festivals from screening films, added three more works. Hylmur Palmason’s The Love That Remains, Magalhaes by Lav Diaz, and Renai saiban by Kōji Fukada.
Ethan Cohen’s Honey Don’t and Le roi soleil by Vincent Maël Cardona complete the Midnight Screenings strand. Lastly, four first features were added as Special Screenings for some reason. They are called Mama, Arco, Qui brille au combat, and Amélie et la métaphysique des tubes.
Alpha by Julia Ducournau.
If this is the finalised edition (there are still rumours about Bi Gan’s Resurrection being added next week), it is a selection that is even weaker than the last two years. Something that I wouldn’t have thought possible. Of all the great names that have been mentioned, only Ramsay made it to this year’s Cannes. The programme is filled to the brim with all the boring usual suspects. The only thankful omission is Jim Jarmusch’s Father, Mother, Sister, and Brother, but that is a slight relief when the competition contains names like Wes Anderson, the Dardennes, Martone, Moll, Trier, Ducournau, and Cannes debutant Ari Aster.
It remains to be seen what kind of surprises this year’s edition has to offer. At the moment, it does not look promising at all. On the other hand, Venice might have an extraordinary edition if the films rejected by Frémaux and his crew end up there.
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.
Editor-in-Chief at Moviescramble. A Fan of all things cinematic with a love of Film Noir, Sci-Fi and Julia Roberts in Notting Hill. He hopes to grow up some day.
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.
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.
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.
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
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.
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.
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.
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
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.
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.
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.
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
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.
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.
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.
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
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.
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 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.
Editor at Moviescramble. European cinema, grisly thrillers and show stopping musicals are my bag. Classic Hollywood Cinema is comfort food. Spare time is heavily dependent on a lot of pizza and power ballads.
