the sub-90 minute thriller offers a searing yet slyly humorous portrayal of the modern technological landscape—as well as the abuses (and negligence) of both state and corporation towards woman victims of sexual assault.
That Decker is able to transmit a deep and compelling curiosity about this journey through each and every image is reason enough to follow a deeply familiar and sometimes overearnest plot.
Sharp Stick is deeply personal; a series of constellation-like animations that arise in Sarah Jo’s mind as she has sex serve as a reminder of those resonances. Like any artist worth her salt, Dunham yields to the farthest corners of her imagination and experience—backlash be damned.
The language of the film is found not in the thoughtfully restrained dialogue Ishiguro has written—which accurately reflects the collective repression of polite British society—but in the images Hermanus, cinematographer Jamie Ramsay, and editor Chris Wyatt have constructed, in collaboration with production designer Helen Scott and costume designer Sandy Powell.
There’s no shame in a remake where the re-rendering is genuinely fresh—but del Toro’s take empties its source material of significance, taking us for a gimmicky ride.a, who are too complex for their underwritten characters.
Being the Ricardos reduces the physical comedy that made I Love Lucy work night after night to a series of explainers. Speech after speech drills into the workings of a comedy script or gag, yet nothing makes you laugh.
What’s most arresting about Flee isn’t its animated sequences, but Rasmussen’s detailed and attentive recording of Amin’s vocal expressions. However conversant he is in several languages, from Dari to Russian to Danish, Amin has a way of letting silence interrupt.
Much of what you see in Passing you’ll miss if you don’t really pay attention. This is, obviously, the entire idea. No matter the language we use or the identities we are assigned or take on, race is not material or fixed—it transforms and distorts.
