POMO

Contemplation of life and death by talking to Death, embodied by a digital bird – sometimes small enough to fit in your ear and sometimes as big as a movie monster. And that’s just the beginning. The initial wonder of “what kind of film is this?" gradually subsides, giving rise to a predictable allegory of saying goodbye to a loved one and coming to terms with their loss. But why did the film’s creator choose such a naïve and childishly literal path? Similar to the flop Three Thousand Years of Longing, Tuesday is a bizarre, fantastical film that viewers may or may not like, as they see fit. [Miami FF]

The first half of Fallen Fruit presents the protagonist in his youthful fumbling as he comes out of a breakup, with no desire to work and no idea what the future holds. The film itself is slightly boring and just as fumbling, with feeble dialogue, the parameters of a student film and one WTF narrative misstep (two complete strangers catch a brief glimpse of each other through the window of a passing car and then text each other a few hours later). As a hurricane approaches, however, the protagonist’s parents join in the presentation of his day-to-day life, characters seen earlier in the film add more meaningful contours to the causes of his loneliness, and Fallen Fruit turns out to be an honest portrait of a young man living in Miami, a city whose exotic identity is aptly expressed with the wow effect that it initially provides, which conceals its darker, less hospitable side. [Miami Film Festival]

Stop! Or My Grandma Will Shoot! An endearing “action” comedy with a heart and an excellent June Squibb. The 94-year-old actress turns in an admirable performance as she combines a variety of humorous gestures with sensitive dramatic moments. The interplay between the characters comprising her family and the bad guys is formulaic yet effectively written, with a surprising choice cast in the role of the main villain. When it comes to comedies about the elderly, however, I personally prefer more sarcastic, culturally distinctive European films, such as A Man Called Ove. [Miami Film Festival]

This documentary is shocking in its depiction of the conditions in which American authorities allow anyone to keep an animal in captivity, including Lolita, a well-known killer whale held for decades at the Miami SeaQuarium. It’s as if there are no laws against animal cruelty, or no one is enforcing them. The film follows a group of Native Americans from the orca’s territory of origin as they strive to secure her freedom. They explain their spiritual connection to the killer whale and the importance of returning her to her native waters, where she can still encounter her mother again after fifty years. Don’t expect a story like My Octopus Teacher and the emotions that it evoked, as Resident Orca is purely a television-style documentary featuring interviews with people involved in the issue. Its power lies in the question of whether the orca will be freed and in the unexpected outcome of the story. [Miami Film Festival]

Here and now I understand what kind of actor we lost in Heath Ledger. A masterfully written and directed “unconventional western romance” set in incredible exterior compositions, while also being viscerally and powerfully intimate, with hidden emotions and the tragic nature of happiness long held just out of reach. Ang Lee guides the lead and supporting actors in the images and editing compositions as if he is painting a picture. In the atmosphere of the rough American retro-rural setting, he composes a perfectly focused mosaic of quiet desires and dreams, into which the tones of Santaolalla’s subtly complementary music hesitantly bring the cold mountain wind and the dust of the prairie. Every scene is a demonstration of filmmaking precision in constructing characters and telling a story covering twenty years in the lives of two people who could neither live together nor live without each other. And the lives of the people around them, affected by the resulting sad events. ___ Brokeback Mountain devastated me with the minimalist conclusion to the story in the most dignified form of cinematic art – without a trace of kitsch or tear-jerking by any means other than a softly spoken offscreen ending of the story that connects so powerfully with the preceding events that it’s heartbreaking. When they are done right, like Brokeback Mountain and Call Me By Your Name, these sad gay romances have, in the characters’ suffering over their social differences and difficult lot in life, a much more dramatic foundation than conventional hetero relationship films. Another probable reason for that is because it is so much easier to find a new girlfriend when things didn’t work out with the last one than it is to find a strong connection with someone from a group that makes up only two percent of the population. Perhaps it is something like a movie fan coming across a film that’s so well directed only once in a few years.

Dynamic, lively, emotive and technically brilliant. The plot is formulaic and the dialogue is ridiculously straightforward, but all of that is overcome by the fact that this is a true story that we wouldn’t believe if it hadn’t actually happened (!). The incorporation of gaming elements into the real world is done so tastefully and skilfully that it make Gran Turismo the best and, mainly, most meaningful film adaptation of a video game so far. Therefore, let’s not compare it to the more mature and thoughtful, but diametrically different racing dramas Rush and Ford v Ferrari.

A quiet drama about a woman coping with painful losses by closing herself off in a remote mountain cabin with no electricity, no running water and no indoor toilet. And then along comes a bear. And winter will be tough. However, this is not a survival thriller; a kind, caring hunter plays a bigger role than the bear... An intimate, rather undistinguished film with which the famous (and great) actress Robin Wright tried her hand at directing.

Horror doesn’t really suit Guadagnino, who takes a sterile and theatrical approach to mystery. He’s a master when it comes to psychology, but that’s not what his Suspiria is about. So, why is it watchable, other than for the acting performances of famous faces? Because it spurs curiosity about what has emerged from this strange, cold form of cinema with its historical roots in 1970s Germany and because of its unconventional portrayal of a clan of witches. Thanks, among other things, to the poetic slow-motion shots like something out of a romantic retro music video by Marika Gombitová, however, it turns out bad beyond all expectations. The witches’ mother, who looks like Jabba the Hut in fashionable sunglasses, is ridiculous.

Drenched in Florida sunshine, Road House is highly entertaining, testosterone-fuelled bullshit with the surprisingly cast Jake Gyllenhaal turning in another fine performance. Doug Liman helps Joel Silver update his eighties classic by dressing it up in the dynamic attire of music videos with intense fight scenes, but always with the detached humour of undemanding home VOD entertainment. The new Road House contains one psychologically effective scene (the dialogue in the bar teasing the main character’s trauma) and is more like an energetic punk comedy than a drama. Its most comical character is Gyllenhaal’s main adversary, the ultimate fighting machine Conor McGregor, who embodies bombastic, brainless macho cocksureness with mindless fury. An invitation to join the Fast & Furious crew is a certainty after this bold big-screen debut.

The role of a charismatic tough guy and fighter for good suits Patrick Swayze, and the film immediately draws you in with his character. The simplicity of the story is only an advantage – high-quality eighties flicks like this are always pleasing with their sincere straightforwardness. Sam Elliott brings the same level of charisma to the film as an equalising force against a band of villains. As the head mobster, Ben Gazzara reminds us that the worst movie bad guy always works best when he has the face of a kind uncle. Road House is a film rich in rampaging goons and manly brawlers, yet it is significantly more dignified than the silly B-movies starring Chuck Norris. It’s just a shame about the naïve climax, and that it tries to use karate motifs to be like Van Damme and co. It doesn’t need that.