Tag Archives: film.
Coarse, unrefined and packing a punch; moonshine is certainly the apt metonymic beverage for Lawless. Nick Cave’s third stab at screenwriting, and his third collaboration with director John Hillcoat, is brash, bawdy joyride through Prohibition-era Virginia, that offers zero intellectual nutritional value but several caskfuls of mindlessly intoxicating goodness.
Like a modern day Lord of the Flies, in the unmitigated absence of adults, a group of awkward teenagers take rank during one summer night, all yearning for that one last-ditched attempt at hedonism before the school term starts.
Lots of things happened in 1966. Some of them important, some of them football related. One of those things was the start of Vans. 46 years later the company is still going strong and has asked director Eliot Rausch to help show people where they came from.
Even with the involvement of American provocateur Vincent Gallo, visual artist David Manuli’s take on the fabled German tale is obscure, brash and, above all else, boring.
It all starts with a close up of a pussy, labia and all. Nicolas Provost’s notorious opening for The Invader suggests that the next ninety minutes of film will be daring, defiant, and a trifle pretentious. Strap in.
Over the proceeding eighteen days our man will be waxing lyrical about what’s going on around Copenhagen town during the CPH:PIX film festival.
This Must Be The Place is the tale of the quest of an ageing, Nazi-hunting goth-rocker played by Sean Penn
Beauty is the uncomfortable story of obsession and repression with a wider narrative dealing with the way the older conservative generation fail to gel with post-apartheid contemporary South Africa
‘A precocious, fair-haired young boy seeks a form of redemption after the loss of a father figure, in a European-helmed film’ . . . sounds a lot like the blurb for nauseating Stephen Frears schmaltz-fest Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.
Michael is a film by Markus Schleinzer that goes on Fritzl levels of sordidness. Literally.