Dear friend,
I’ve finally decided to embrace the Oscar season and try to watch the available Best Picture nominees that I wasn’t planning on seeing by my own choice.
This week the Adrien Brody film came out, so I convinced myself that sitting in a cinema for four hours (including the intermission and the trailers/ads preceding the film) would be a good way to spend a Saturday (usually, I wouldn’t complain about it; but usually, I would choose the film to watch).
Then I addressed from my sofa the French-not-really-Mexican film.
Suffice to say, I’m quickly reappraising the value of Anora and The Substance.
But I’m also getting stronger doubts about my ability to appreciate art.
Tomie: Unlimited/富江 アンリミテッド, directed by Noboru Iguchi, co-written with Jun Tsugita, from Junji Ito’s manga, Japan, 2011 - ⭐⭐½
That’s it! It should be the last Tomie film, and it was a bizarre experience. The non-Tomie character, Tsukiko, has the same name as the co-protagonist in the original Tomie, and that’s the only fact supporting the idea that this was supposed to be a reboot for the series. Honestly, every film in the ‘franchise’ (except for the ‘prequel’) was unrelated to any other one, and the lead actress kept changing.
I believe it’s more realistic to think that this was a totally distinct horror script - a tale of two sisters, if you will - that was repurposed as a Tomie film; it’s best enjoyed is as an unrelated, deranged movie about insecurity and the search for a scapegoat for the failures in one’s life.
I was expecting to love the ‘Tomie parade’ I was promised, where every woman Tsukiko meets is an actress from one of the previous episodes, but, on one side, I didn’t recognise the other women, and on the other, while the scene was playing I was reflecting about what it could actually mean: that every woman in the world is a potential Tomie, striving for a free and independent life, but always at risk of being treated by men as expendable.
The Brutalist, directed by Brady Corbet, co-written with Mona Fastvold, US, 2024 - ⭐⭐⭐
Some films make me feel super-ignorant: every professional film critic adores them, and I end up wondering what I have missed.
The Brutalist is one of those movies. Sure, I have missed a 70mm presentation, which is what every review raves about.
It’s a film about immigration and how bad rich people are. Thanks, I was at risk of forgetting it. Not the most original of messages.
Also, I’ve heard it described as a film about the American dream. But all the American characters are played by Australian/British/French/Scottish actors. And the main American actor is playing the Hungarian immigrant (ok, Adrien Brody’s mother was half-Hungarian; but no Hungarian person I know speaks with that accent). All the other Hungarian roles are portrayed by American, British, Greek people.
I can only assume this is intentional. Maybe I’m being too analytical.
But can you really feel too analytical when a film about Holocaust survivors ends with ten baffling minutes where an actor changes role (is it a homage to Paul Dano in There Will Be Blood?), things you didn’t even question are spelt out for increased Oscar effect, and the end credit music turns out to be one of the cheesiest italo-disco songs I can think of (but also, a common phrase representing the compromise some film directors have to accept).
Curse, Death & Spirit/本当にあった怖い話 呪死霊, directed by Hideo Nakata, written by Hiroshi Takahashi and Akihiko Shiota, Japan, 1992 - ⭐⭐⭐
Nakata’s debut movie, an anthology film composed of three episodes, two of which by Ringu’s screenwriter Takahashi. Dealing with haunted dolls, grief and ghosts, the first two parts are naive more than they are scary, but the final one is quite strong on the horror, so overall it’s been a pleasant experience. One can definitely see the beginning of Nakata’s long-lasting interest in water-related and/or long-haired female ghosts.
Emilia Pérez, written and directed by Jacques Audiard, based on the novel Écoute by Boris Razon, France, 2024 - ⭐⭐
At least there is no consensus on whether this film is good. For my taste, it completely fails as a musical: Zoe Saldaña is left alone to try to sing and dance, while everybody else just says words trying to keep a cadence while some music plays in the background (with the exception, of course, of Selena Gomez; I’m not familiar with her music, but I hope she’s usually better than what’s on display here). But why add songs to the film? I was almost feeling physical pain every time somebody started ‘singing’.
But two of the ‘musical pieces’ are nominated as Best Original Song, so, what do I know?
Without the musical component, would it be a better film? Yes.
Would it be a good film? Probably, if you believe a person can be incredibly cruel because they live in a body they don’t recognise as their own, and become an angel when they are finally at ease. I’ve never been in that situation, so I can’t judge.
(side observation: Robbie Williams’ Better Man has been denied a nomination for Best Original Song, but he can be vindicated by being responsible for the best song in this film)