Category Archives: Reviews

Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell (Thien An Pham, 2023)

An intimate three-hour epic of deliberate pacing, Vietnamese writer-director Thien An Pham’s debut feature, Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell, is a spellbinding tale of the soul’s unfathomable desire for the other-worldly, that does itself border on transcendental in its filmmaking and gradual blurring of apparent truth and suggested fantasy.

The film premieres in Cannes’ Directors’ Fortnight section, where the filmmaker was previously recipient of the Illy Prize in 2019 for the short Stay Awake, Be Ready, in which a roadside accident at a street corner interrupted a conversation between three friends having a meal. That short seems loosely remade for the new feature’s opening scene, which expands the idea to explore a man’s attempted overcoming of a deeply unsatisfied life, taking him from urban Saigon to the hinterland of Vietnam, out of both familial necessity and a quest to make sense of where and how to proceed with his life going forward…

Full review for IndieWire

The Mother of All Lies (Asmae El Moudir, 2023)

While photographs can be lies and we’re probably all taking and distributing too many pictures of ourselves in the age of smartphones, there’s something to be said for having these accessible mementos of a life lived, at least as reference for later on, when you might be clamoring for proof that you actually existed. And while audio-visual evidence isn’t necessary for us to remember everything, there can be an extent to which an absence of documentation can prove an existential burden. It can be difficult to build an identity when your memories are unreliable. If you have no visual record of you as a child, your parents, or guardians at that time, or what your home looked like, to what extent can you trust what you think you remember?

This is one of the central ideas driving Moroccan filmmaker Asmae El Moudir’s riveting, inventive Un Certain Regard entry The Mother of All Lies. Her film starts with the desire to know why she has only one photograph from her childhood, and why the girl presented in the image seems to be so different from her. From that starting point, she reaches a point of recreating her family’s home and neighborhood in miniature form, as means of interrogating both personal and national history…

Full review for IndieWire

Harka (Lotfy Nathan, 2022)

Few recent examples of opening narration have laid out so foreboding a mission statement for the film that follows as that which starts Tunisian drama Harka. Over various establishing shots, a young woman’s voice tells a tale passed on to her by her brother. Way out in the desert, a lake apparently appeared out of nowhere one morning. Producing crystal clear water, its seemingly perfect qualities attracted visitors from far away just to see or swim in it. No one questioned the apparent miracle, as the locals, we’re told, believe in the possibility of magic.

The stage is set for a story with a possible bent of magical realism. But the narrator quickly dispels that notion. Months on from the miracle spot’s beginnings as a tourist attraction, someone learned it was in fact a sinkhole filled up with run-off from a nearby phosphate mine. Despite this revelation, people still came; still swam. But then the water turned black, finally making people understand the full extent to which they were wallowing in poison. Cut to opening credits…

Full review for Little White Lies

How to Blow Up a Pipeline (Daniel Goldhaber, 2022)

Mainstream filmmakers face a tricky balancing act when it comes to tackling the climate crisis and portraying those who are fighting to avert eco-catastrophe. An approach that is either too light or too po-faced risks undermining the efforts of real-life activists. Even Kelly Reichardt’s generally solid thriller Night Moves (2013) went down a hackneyed route, in which paranoia tore its characters apart.

In contrast, the electric, forthright How to Blow Up a Pipeline excels as both truly riveting entertainment and an energizing call to action, in part through the cleverness of its genre conceit: what could be a better fit for a story about collective action and fighting the system than a heist movie…

Full review for Total Film

LOLA (Andrew Legge, 2022)

Partly shot on 16mm with a Bolex camera, Andrew Legge’s resourceful sci-fi LOLA blends time travel with found footage to engaging effect. It begins with a framing device set in the modern day: the film we’re about to see is in fact a broadcast recorded in 1941.

At this point in the Second World War, two sisters, Thomasina (Emma Appleton) and Martha (Stefanie Martini), have created a large machine, LOLA, that can intercept future audiovisual broadcasts, allowing them to document the music of as-yet-unborn musicians such as David Bowie and Bob Dylan – and to receive Nazi telecommunications. Realising the machine’s potential for the Allied war effort, the sisters send anonymous warnings about imminent bombings, earning them the moniker ‘the Angel of Portobello’; they’re quickly recruited to assist the military…

Full review for Sight and Sound

Godland (Hlynur Pálmason, 2022)

When it comes to the International Feature Film category at the Academy Awards, the somewhat archaic submission process involves a country nominating just one feature from the year’s filmmaking output. Regarding eligibility criteria, international co-productions are in a tricky spot, whereby factors such as how much funding came from a specific country, or what per cent of the dialogue is in a certain language, determine which nation can most justifiably claim it as their own in the pursuit of an Oscar.

Awards season rumours suggest director Hlynur Pálmason’s darkly comic epic Godland fell victim to those eligibility debates. While some funding came from France and Sweden, the film was also backed by Icelandic and Danish production companies, is set mainly in Iceland after a Denmark-set prologue, and follows a Danish character’s attempted assimilation in Iceland. There’s a roughly even split between Icelandic and Danish dialogue, but in the end, neither territory submitted the film.

Godland may have been not Icelandic enough, but also not Danish enough. But then, this is a quite fitting outside-the-film circumstance for a story in which cultural clash and notions of societal belonging are explicitly part of the text; a film that includes separate title cards in both Icelandic and Danish at its open and close…

Full review for Little White Lies

Blue Jean (Georgia Oakley, 2022)

It’s 1988, and bulletins report on Clause 28, which would see the prohibition of any “promotion” of homosexuality as an acceptable “pretended family relationship” by local authorities in Britain, including schools. Politicians on TV and radio – including Margaret Thatcher – justify the measures on grounds of tackling so-called deviancy. Section 28, as it’s more widely known, wouldn’t be repealed in Scotland, England and Wales until the early 2000s. Among its many repercussions were the ways in which organisations created to support vulnerable LGBTQ+ individuals were pushed into self-censoring or outright closure.

The soulful, textured debut feature of writer-director Georgia Oakley, Blue Jean explores the self-censorship of someone in an authority role hiding their homosexuality as the clause is introduced, when there’s heightened discussion of the visibility of queer lifestyles, exposing prejudices among staffroom colleagues who would usually just deal in idle chatter. P.E. teacher Jean (Rosy McEwan), who was previously married, works at a Tyneside secondary school a fair drive from her home, to keep her professional and personal lives fully apart. That personal life includes girlfriend Viv (Kerrie Hayes) and their circle of lesbian friends…

Full review for The Skinny

Hold Me Tight (Mathieu Amalric, 2021)

Clarisse wakes at dawn, careful not to stir her sleeping husband. She packs a few belongings and takes one last look at her sleeping children; then, deciding against leaving a note, she departs her house. The implication is that she’s abandoning her family, with a surprising giddiness in the car-driving sequences that soon follow. How could someone do this to their loved ones, and with such gleeful abandon? And why might they?

Cutting back and forth between Clarisse (Vicky Krieps)’s new bearings and her family adjusting to the abandonment, Mathieu Amalric’s latest feature as writer-director – based on Claudine Galea’s play Je reviens de loin – seems like it might be one of those disorienting character studies that withholds any semblance of answers until the climax. Instead, Amalric resolves the initial mystery early. It’s near impossible to meaningfully elaborate on what the film is doing without delving into the reveal that comes roughly a third in, so consider this your first-act spoiler warning…

Full review for Sight and Sound

Hunt (Lee Jung-jae, 2022)

Although Hunt was already in production before the global phenomenon premiered, Squid Game’s success looks set to ensure even more eyes pay attention to the directorial debut of that show’s star, Lee Jung-jae, who also co-leads this film. Luckily, Lee’s feature should withstand the extra scrutiny, thanks to its qualities as a stylish, energetic espionage thriller executed with clear confidence…

Full review for Little White Lies

Klokkenluider (Neil Maskell, 2022)

When a familiar actor switches to directing, there is the temptation to look for parallels with the films of directors they’ve worked with, particularly when there have been numerous collaborations. With British character actor favourite Neil Maskell, his debut feature as writer and director actively invites comparisons to Ben Wheatley’s early work to a small extent, given that Wheatley has an executive producer credit (Maskell is perhaps best known for his breakthrough lead role in Wheatley’s hitman horror Kill List).

But while Klokkenluider features a similar tension to Wheatley’s films in its combination of bleak comedy, deceptively mundane settings and the potential for kneejerk violence, Maskell’s speedy film displays a distinctive, eccentric voice of its own, even while bearing clear DNA from the likes of Harold Pinter plays and conspiracy thriller classics. Were it not for the occasional detours to other locales, it would near enough be a chamber piece, and it’s easy to imagine this material being transferred to the stage with some success, but a stagey feel is avoided through clever editing and blocking tricks…

Full review for Little White Lies