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For their 192nd episode, two haughty film critics, two betrothed dads, and two classical school teachers, Will Johnson and Don Shanahan, refine their usual viewing to discuss possibly unexpected from their norm, but something with extreme class. We’re talking about director Joe Wright’s sumptuous 2005 adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, starring Kiera Knightly in her prime stardom. The gents are joined by a special guest: Will’s daughter Lizzie, an ardent fan of the book and movie. If the movie didn’t class up the podcast, having the target demographic of Jane Austen sure did. Come learn more and stay for the mutual love and respect that fun movies encapsulate. Enjoy our podcast!
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.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCY0Z0-IseU
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.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avvm0e4oNCE
Those online games that made hours just fly by? The things you used to do with them became old, but they were fun and helped you bond with your friends. As newer versions came out, memories of old games slipped gradually behind.
Let’s reminisce and bring back 10 online games that had you addicted long ago.
This adorable little snowy little penguin truly may have brought all the kids and teens into making their own penguins, decorating their igloos, and playing mini-games with their friends. Club Penguin was more than just a game; it was a community. Unfortunately, in 2017, Club Penguin was shut down, but it still lives on in so many hearts.
Neopets was the ultimate online pet simulator. One could adopt multicolored creatures, feed them, and make games for Neopoints through it. The worlds and quests in Neopets were magical, which made it incredibly entertaining. It’s still around, yes – but lots of folks have left their pets behind, looking to do their adult things.
At one time, RuneScape was one of the biggest online games, and it provided an open-world fantasy experience. Players mined, fished, battled, or went on quests. In spite of having many casual players today, they’ve mostly forgotten how groundbreaking this game once was.
Habbo Hotel was a one-pixel-art meaningful social game in which a player could design rooms, chat, and role-play. Emerging before hangouts, Habbo topped the scene partly because it was not social media. Over the years, its charm faded, but many people had their maiden taste of online friendships through it.
FarmVille took over Facebook by storm. From the teenagers to grandparents, they’d all be planted with crops and animals. Casual but social play at its best. Though far from being hot right now, it lives in the form of so many mobile farming games.
Adventurequest featured awesome tale-driven quests and great turn-based battles. High-speed Internet or high-tech graphics were not required since it was very accessible to everyone around. Although still playable, it’s been overtaken by modern gaming trends and doesn’t feel the same anymore.
Gaia Online was a social network-cum-game, where one made an avatar, forum-navigated, and played zOMG! Gaia was practically the only one able to do that. It grew up and left the site, along with many other users, but such was life in the now-dead online world.
91 Club offers a great platform for colour trading and slot gaming. Withdraw your winnings instantly and fill your wallet with various deposit options.
How easy is it for a player to join the app and start having fun playing his or her favorite game and earning cash? The easy-to-use interface and ecstatic gameplay of 91 Club are becoming the first choice for gamers looking to relax and make some extra bucks.
MapleStory was a side-scrolling MMORPG filled with quirky characters and fun classes. It offered unique visuals and addictive grinding gameplay. While the game is still active, many early players have drifted away, forgetting just how captivating it once was.
This game blended exploration with problem-solving. You traveled through islands to solve mysteries and complete stories. It was creative and educational without being boring. Though it’s still online, it’s mostly off the radar now.
These games gave us endless fun and unforgettable memories. Even if we’ve moved on, they were once a huge part of our online life. Maybe it’s time to revisit a few and feel that old spark again.
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.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xLEClUljJQ