100 Words on David Lynch's Mulholland Dr. (2001)

©Aleks Phoenix

By Thomas M. Puhr

Mulholland Dr. (2001) asks us to reconsider the nature of character via dream logic. In a dream, someone you glimpsed at a diner can become a main character, a loved one a peripheral figure: a valuable lesson in perspective. As is the fact that a real person can assume an entirely new identity in a dream: a process, Lynch suggests, that is analogous to a performer who becomes their role or an audience member who, confronted with the film actor’s impossibly large face—their penetrating eyes, their lush red lips—enters not just another time or place, but another person.

100 Words on Alexandre Koberidze's What Do We See When We Look at the Sky? (2021)

 

By Thomas M. Puhr

A man and woman fall in love after bumping into each other twice on the same day. Their fate is jeopardized, however, when each awakens inside a different body the morning of their first date. Thus begins Georgian writer-director Alexandre Koberidze’s What Do We See When We Look at the Sky? (2021), which struggles – not unlike its star-crossed lovers – to maintain the near-overwhelming romantic spell it establishes in these opening scenes. Still, Koberidze’s paean to cinema’s magical powers (to unite people, to capture reality in a way that lived experience somehow can’t) will reward those attuned to its unhurried wavelength.   

100 Words on Andrey Zvyagintsev's Loveless (2017)

By Thomas Puhr

One of the first stills released from Andrey Zvyagintsev’s Loveless (2017) was an overhead shot of young Alyosha (Matvey Novikov) squinting up at the sun. At first glance, the angle could easily be mistaken for an upward tilt, as if a flashlight or camera has caught him hiding in the tree of a dark forest. This image – almost surreal in nature – is among Zvyagintsev’s most arresting compositions. I often think about it, and of Alyosha – who will soon wander off and never be seen again – sobbing alone in his room while his oblivious parents (Maryana Spivak and Aleksey Rozin) argue.

100 Words on Ben Wheatley's In the Earth (2021)

By Thomas Puhr

How do we get out of this mess? In his strongest (and strangest) film since A Field in England (2013) – with which In the Earth (2021) enters thematic and stylistic dialogue – Ben Wheatley follows a group of scientists attempting to reconnect with nature (via a kaleidoscopic forest) in the face of a global catastrophe. The parallels to an unnamed COVID-19 are obvious (characters reference quarantine, lockdown, social distancing, etc.), but Wheatley’s concerns extend to a dying planet with which we’ve lost touch. Spiritual and scientific dogmatism must be relinquished in favor of a heady brew of both. Therein lies salvation.

100 Words on Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)

Poster by Tom Miatke

By Thomas Puhr 

Whereas contemporary adaptations of literary epics tend to sag in their first installments – becoming feature-length expositions – The Fellowship of the Ring confidently immerses viewers into Tolkien’s Middle Earth via painterly compositions, gracefully choreographed set pieces, and committed performances. The latter quality proves crucial; none of the actors – especially Wood, Astin, and Mortensen – are allowed the safety net of self-aware winks to the camera. The risk of such an approach is sentimentality (to which Jackson often succumbs), but I’ll take that over ironic posturing any day. Revisiting the film some twenty years later, I’m most struck – and charmed – by this earnestness.

100 Words on George A. Romero's The Amusement Park (1973)

By Thomas Puhr

George A. Romero delivers The Amusement Park’s message – namely, that the socioeconomic marginalization of America’s elderly must be addressed – with his trademark blunt force severity. Nested within the surreal visuals and kaleidoscopic editing, however, is a far subtler (and despairing) suggestion: that the film’s lesson will likely be ignored. Consider how a teenaged couple reacts to glimpsing their impoverished future – courtesy of a fortuneteller – with anger rather than compassion (the boyfriend assaults the nameless protagonist, played by a sympathetic Lincoln Maazel, soon after). Or how the narrator (Maazel) – after urging volunteers to take action – walks alone as the credits roll.

100 Words on Aneesh Chaganty's Run (2020)

By Thomas Puhr

Run (2020) works best when director Aneesh Chaganty focuses on his heroine, Chloe (a revelatory Kiera Allen), a disabled young woman who suspects something is not quite right with mother. Consider a beautifully-composed set piece in which Chloe escapes her locked bedroom, shimmies across the roof of her house, and reenters through another window, only to end up breaking back into the same bedroom to retrieve her inhaler. Chaganty’s ironic, Hitchcockian sense of space aside, Run fails to escape one of the genre’s most infuriating tropes: nearly all of its secondary characters (a pharmacist, a postal worker) are cartoonishly stupid.

100 Words on Béla Tarr's Sátántangó (1994)

By Thomas Puhr

Despite its formidable runtime, Sátántangó (1994) is the antithesis of an epic. Tarr's patient, precise camera circles - like the spider web to which the narrator often refers - around the same handful of characters and events, revealing the complex network of perspectives behind even the simplest of moments. 

The villagers’ stories are reduced to a few pages, crammed in a locked bureau among countless forgotten records. The government workers file their report. The drunken doctor boards up his rainswept windows. 

Do the bells ring again or for the first time? What did Irimiás (Mihály Vig) see in that fog?

100 Words on Terrence Malick's A Hidden Life (2019)

By Thomas Puhr

Austrian farmer Franz Jägerstätter (a steadfast August Diehl) is imprisoned and executed for refusing to swear loyalty to Hitler. Terrence Malick’s A Hidden Life (2019) captures this true story with the reverent awe it deserves, and the writer-director’s visuals are as gorgeous as ever (though their impact is blunted by repetition). As has often been the case with latter-day Malick, A Hidden Life is simply too long: a good three-hour film that could have been a great two-hour one. I can’t help but wonder what Badlands-era Malick (or at least a more discerning editor) could have done with this material.   

100 Words on Nicolas Pesce's The Grudge (2020)

By Thomas Puhr

High on atmospherics but low on the strong characterizations that marked his previous films, Nicolas Pesce’s The Grudge (2020) proves that not even a young, gifted director can resurrect this stale franchise. While there’s much to admire, including some striking compositions and genuinely upsetting set pieces, the writer-director leans far too heavily on cheap scares copied from previous installments. A convoluted narrative structure of overlapping timeframes prevents any emotional engagement. Perhaps most egregious is the underused supporting cast (John Cho, always excellent, doesn’t get nearly enough screen time). Ultimately, Pesce’s formidable talent behind the camera fails to overcome reboot constraints.

100 Words on Chad Stahelski's John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum (2019)

https://www.slashfilm.com/john-wick-3-artist-series-posters/

By Thomas Puhr

John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum (2019) showcases some lush visuals, a cheeky sense of humor, and, most importantly, coherent and intricately-choreographed fight sequences. Nevertheless, the 2014 original remains the best in the series because of its crisp pacing (it’s still the shortest entry) and simple, but effective, characterization. For me, the small pleasure of watching Keanu Reeves kill someone with a book outweighs the other, grander set pieces on display in Parabellum. The sequels have become bogged down in their increasingly elaborate world-building and have lost sight of the original’s nimble style and wit. Alas, John Wick has become Marvel-ized.   

100 Words on Panos Cosmatos' Mandy (2018)

IMDb

By Thomas Puhr

If a precocious, 15-year-old D&D enthusiast was force-fed LSD and given carte blanche to make any movie they wanted, the end product might look something like Panos Cosmatos' latest. Mandy is visually gorgeous, but it is Nicolas Cage’s performance as Red Miller, a man seeking revenge against the cult that murdered his beloved Mandy (Andrea Riseborough), that seals the deal. Though gloriously unhinged (especially when his enemies’ heads start rolling), Cage also imbues his character with genuine pathos. The late Jóhann Jóhannsson’s score, finished shortly before his death, does not disappoint. In short, Mandy is off-the-wall crazy and often exhilarating.

100 Words on Alex Ross Perry's Golden Exits (2017)

imdb.com

By Thomas Puhr

Quietly released in early 2018, Alex Ross Perry’s Golden Exits is the type of film that easily gets overlooked this time of year. An ode of sorts to Rohmer, the writer-director’s latest follows the intersecting lives of some New Yorkers, all of whom are connected in some way to visiting Australian, Naomi (Emily Browning). This may be Perry’s “warmest” film to date, but his trademark, acidic dialogue is still on full display. Most rewarding are the subtle parallels that emerge between the older and younger characters, as if the latter are looking at their potential future selves in a mirror.