Early in Joselito Altarejos' Memories of a Love Story Eric (Oliver Aquino) and Jericho (Migs Almendras) lock gazes, and you hear a k-tchak! as the camera cuts to flashback. Annoying sound, but gradually you realize what Altarejos is trying to evoke: the clack of a View-Master stereopticon shifting from one photograph to the next, offering you-- in three-dimensional imagery, no less-- a glimpse into a brightly colored forever frozen past.
Anna Isabelle Matutina's debut feature 12 Weeks is powerful both for what it says and doesn't say. It's a laser-focused look at a woman (Max Eigenmann as Alice), firmly in charge of her life and career, suddenly blindsided by the fact that she's pregnant at 40-- what she feels, what she (implicitly) thinks, what she faces in terms of social and practical challenges in the Philippines, where abortion is illegal.
How many ways can Lav Diaz take on the Marcos dictatorship? As early as Batang West Side (West Side Avenue 2001) where a lead character admits to a dark relationship with the regime, the director has presented that period in Philippine history as a kind of collective trauma, a recurring nightmare we are all still struggling to awaken from.
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So now we have it: a fairly big-budgeted adaptation of Neil Gaiman's celebrated fantasy series. Beautifully cast, ingeniously reworked, adequately directed.
Despite the rather dry title Master and Commander, Peter Weir's uncommonly good adaptation of Patrick O'Brian's Jack Aubrey novels is anything but, a grandly outsized lovingly detailed and authentic (as far as my landlubber eyes can see) recreation of 19th century naval warfare, from the point of view of a single British warship.
("--Will this little piece keep key details and plot twists hidden from those who haven't seen the movie?" "Nope.")
--Is this latest picture Peele's funniest?
Nope.
--Is it his scariest?
Nope.
--Is it a bad movie?
Nope.
Difficult to pin down Taika Waititi: he's talented and smart but apparently tone deaf, and his films keep missing the mark. Hunt for the Wilderpeople wants to be a shaggy dog story but isn't as funny as it thinks it is and the subplot of Hec (Sam Neill) being mistaken for a pedophile adds a sour note to an otherwise harmless comedy; What We Do in the Shadows is a fine conceit (vampires of different ages and races, some legendary, share an apartment) that doesn't seem to lead to much of anything other than a conscientious avoidance of cliches.
Thor: Ragnarok might be considered the spectacular introduction of Waititi's brand of whimsy and wayward storytelling to the otherwise flavorless assembly-line content of Marvel Studio, only I keep thinking of James Gunn's Guardians of the Galaxy movies and their brand of whimsy and wayward storytelling (Gunn's also had the better mixtape). Jojo Rabbit wants to be that rare comedy about Nazis, only I keep thinking of Volker Schlondorff's adaptation of Gunter Grass' The Tin Drum and how that was both funnier and more horrifying. I like Waititi's ambitions and his heart is in the right place, but so far he keeps fanning air.
