TBA
Beautifully shot in stunning black-and-white, Below the Clouds is a mesmerizing, fascinating and unconventional documentary portrait of the city of Naples. Director Gianfranco Rosi opts for a fly-on-the-wall approach with a potpourri of different perspectives from the daily lives of Naples inhabitants. Locals call a fire department's emergency hotline to report tremors. Someone complains that their loved one fell out of bed and weighs too much to be picked up by just three people. The dispatcher says that at least 5 people are needed, but all of their firemen are busy at the moment. Other locals express their worry about a nearby volcano, Phlegraean Fields, erupting. Japanese tourists visit a museum that displays the plaster casts of the victims of the Vesuvius volcano eruption in 79 AD. Those images alone are harrowing and among the most powerful ones in the film. Below the Clouds also has a surprising amount of comic relief, especially from the witty and snarky dispatcher who answers the emergency calls at the fire station. To be fair, patient audiences will be rewarded because Rosi moves the film at a very slow pace with many scenes without dialogue, just music. At a running time of 1 hour and 55 minutes, Below the Clouds opens TBA.
Number of times I checked my watch: 2
Francis (Dina Silva), a.k.a. Frankie, an aspiring singer, goes on a killing spree to seek revenge against anyone who fat shames or belittles her in Frankie, Maniac Woman. Writer/director Pierre Tsigaridis and co-writer Dina Silva have made a visually stylish, unflinchingly violent and wildly entertaining horror thriller with a great command of tone that combines suspense, dark humor and campiness. The occasional use of black-and-white cinematography adds to the visual poetry and grittiness. There's plenty of blood and guts to please horror fans, but this isn't a non-stop gorefest like Terrifier; it has a compelling story with a few surprises and a complex, well-written villain with a tragic backstory that humanizes her. She's cut from the same cloth as Jason Voorhees: they've both been abused during their childhood and picked on for their looks. They're mad as hell and don't have the emotional maturity to know how to process their anger, sadness, self-loathing and emotional pain, so they resort to violence. It's reminiscent of Coralie Fargeat’s action thriller Revenge, and would make an interesting double feature with Muriel's Wedding which is also about a woman who's also insecure, bullied, body-shamed and self-loathing, although she deals with all of her issues in healthier ways than Frankie does. At a running time of 1 hour and 35 minutes, Frankie, Maniac Woman opens TBA.
Number of times I checked my watch: 1
Betty (Barbara Auer) takes care of Laura (Paula Beer), a piano student, after she survives a car crash that kills her boyfriend in Miroirs No. 3. She lets her stay at her home and invites her estranged husband, Richard (Matthias Brandt) and son, Max (Enno Trebs), over. Writer/director Christian Petzold has made an understated and quietly moving meditation on grief. He begins the film with the car crash; there's little to no first act or exposition that sets up the relationship between Laura and her boyfriend. Miraculously, Laura survives the crash with just a minor cut. Betty seems sad, depressed and lonely. Her faucet constantly drips, her dishwasher and one of her bicycles are both broken. When she tells Laura that she's inviting her husband and son over, she refers to them as "the men." They happen to work as mechanics, so they insist on fixing her faucet, dishwasher and bicycle. Very little happens in terms of plot, but there's a twist near the end that helps to add more emotional depth and to explain where Betty's sadness comes from. Interestingly, Laura and Max don't develop a romance, although they do flirt a little. This isn't a Hollywood film, after all. There's also some surprisingly lively use of music during a few scenes. Paula Beer and Barbara Auer give warm, nuanced and radiant performances that ground the film in humanism. They're both wonderfully natural actresses who get many chances to shine here. The unconventional ending feels abrupt, though, although it does leave some room for interpretation. At a running time of only 1 hour and 26 minutes, Miroirs No. 3 opens TBA via 1-2 Special.
Number of times I checked my watch: 1
