Reviews

Despite my appreciation for this director's struggle to bring certain metaphysical and spiritual suspicions to the big screen, I find his attempt most of the time weak, but certainly not bad. There are, as almost always with Shyamalan, too many holes in the script to really appreciate the film. However, the idea is always refreshing and fascinating, the production design is almost always original (not this time), the music always to the point. This man knows what filmmaking is. From his very first hit, the 6th Sense, his attempt has never been different: to explain spiritual phenomena from the inner struggle of man. This is original because spirituality, especially in religion, always presupposes an external source. Not so with Shyamalan. The alienating phenomena find their source in the human inability to establish a loving connection with a fellow human being. To bring about this message seems to me Shyamalan's ongoing attempt, in every single production. That's why I always watch his films and always hope for a successful attempt. I'm sure it will come one day, because his movies always succeed in one thing that is the most important human feature of all: integrity. His movies always bear integrity.

I watched it in one viewing.

So far the compliments.

Maybe I was so eager because I was hoping for a philosophical premise a la The Matrix. Maybe I was hoping for an in-depth analysis of people who surrender to a totalitarian system and what secret machinations lead to that system. A rather relevant question for the 21st century. Perhaps I was hoping for an intelligent interpretation of historically consecutive events that could be understood if people had a good interest in history. So that people would not blindly fall into the hands of such a totalitarian system.

But these questions are hinted at in this series - too strongly to just ignore -, but none of them are elaborated upon. The leading theme therefore becomes a side issue. Sadly. And what remains is a clichéd story about a race against time, with some psychological drama surrounding it.

'You'll be loved'.

This important and repeated sentence could also have become a strong theme. In the last episode it is hinted that this sentence should actually be: 'you'll be loved... by yourself'.

But this redemptive solution to many problems of power and corruption in the world (of today) is also destroyed by the overly complicated storyline, with all kinds of technical ambiguities and sometimes even irrationalities.

In short, this ministeries is a very promising effort, which one can only hope that an inspired writer will pick up, make all technological gadgets a side issue and bring the core of totalitarianism to the fore. So that we can learn in which fascinating, but also dangerous times we actually live. And we can learn that hope can only come from the difficult journey not outside ourselves, but within ourselves, a theme, again, which is only clumsily referenced in this miniseries.

Oh boy its production design and edit gave me goosebumps. It's the directors trademark. But that's about it....

Why are big names as Rockefeller and the American political elnvironment left out of this historical narrative? If you want to make a strong statement about white guild you better not end up with a local family doing dirty stuff to Indians. That's not portraying the real mechanism of early 20s century american oil-industry and all the monstrosities resulting from it (Big Pharma etc)

Why keeping on moaning about indians if your nation is still full trottle on modern post-colonialism all over the planet in all kind of forms? Better adress thät instead of indians, who already evolved into American life and will sadly never return to their plains and sacred rituals again.

The soul of this movie is neo-christian self-punishment, almost as an excuse to justify present-day colonialism.

This movie is not shocking and really investigating behind the coulisse of history. This is a 'neat' product, like the performances of the main characters are.

Martin, dare being a rebel again.

Director Ari Aster has done his homework. There are so many authentic rituals, or aspects of it, in this film that it makes you dizzy to process. But if you read about them in occult books, you would recognize them.

They are horrifying to the modern, individualized consciousness, which now knows good and evil. But they make perfect sense to the ancient consciousness that does not yet have individualized morality, identity and property. That consciousness follows the laws of nature, commanded by the spiritual leaders of the herd. Death and sex do not yet fall within the spectrum of guilt and shame and serve the moralless nature and the survival of the herd.

The strength of the film lies in the relationship between score and images. The pompous, lyrical and compassionate music accompanying the gruesome images reflects the peacefulness of the old consciousness and not the new one that detests these images. That's why it seems out of place and almost absurdist. But Aster points out how authentic these rituals should be considered in the context of their time.

Finally, by showing these gruesome rituals in this authentic setting to a modern cinema audience, Aster shows what happens when group-conscience takes over from individualized conscience in these modern times of totalitarism. In our time there are no medicine men, but religious leaders, scientists, media, politicians and large technological companies. When the gullible majority appropriates the truth and forbids its individual impulse, in effect the individual in a group falls into a horrible barbarism of exclusion and destruction of others. Because he, like our distant ancestor, has surrendered his soul to the collective.

Aster shows the danger of returning to an old form of consciousness, in the form of the modern, technological totalitarianism that is currently emerging on the globe.

Every movie has a storyline and a message. The storyline in Contagion is: 'Help, there is a pandemic!' The message though is: 'Your government, scientists, business and media are there for you'.

Even if you don't believe in a conspiracy, this is the script-level message. And there's nothing wrong with that. In Hollywood, films are often made in collaboration with the government or the Pentagon. There's nothing mysterious about that. George Bush also admitted that Hollywood made films for the Pentagon to promote the war in Iraq to the general public. It's also nice to notice the little messages hidden in little sub-phrases: "Dad, they thought an ulcer was caused by stress, but it was a bacteria." Etc...etc... This film was made to give the public the feeling that the old institutions still work. In the movie this was done on the basis of a virus that is clearly life-threatening. That's why we have to believe the message. But what if there is a virus that is not dangerous, but is sold as such? Then everyone remembers this remarkably powerful and professionally made film - and others with the same message (not story-line per se!) in which the viewer is prepared scene by scene, dialogue by dialogue, as to how he has to think and reason; 'Go to sleep, the State has integrity, watches over you and saves you'.

Mission accomplished.

I am usually good with putting thoughts to words, but I really have no idea what I just saw. If only, that I am hightly disturbed, but do not know exactly why.

Did I see a horror-movie? Or a psychological family-drama, eating itself inside out till nothing is left inside? Was this a sick acestrial possession thing? Or..... did I just saw a sick fairy tale, set in a scary dollhouse that silently grins at me when no one else is around?

I can handle horror, death and despair in movies but this...this was so painful, without real scary visuals. It was a dreathful, surrealistic nightmare, a brilliantly composed, viscious footpath into the hell-section of my brain.

I never want to see this movie again.

This movie is a shameful sign of the times. Use a valuable folktale - the heart of a nations soul if you will - and misuse it for an unbalanced script full of self-contradictory nonsense. Produce with a minimal of costs a B-movie with no message at all and dump it on the market.

What you get is a metaphor for the times we live in. What could have been an exposé of a nation's soul is now its ultimate mockery Hopefully the person who initiated this dump, finds his way to what he so transparently copied: the Hollywoods B-movie market of sad, sad intentions.

Let's wat for a filmmaker of integrity and a healthy connection to the past who produces a worthy story about this beautiful folktale.

This is one of those scripts with an very simple story-arc. A story just serving as an excuse to tell a crude tale of torn and confusion, of love and abandonment, of tenderness and deceit. Alienation actually.

Telling an european trauma.

So what do you need for a European trauma? You need an European director, who is culturally saddled and in touch with this trauma. So the simple war-story can be elevated to what it actually wants to tell.

I love Zemeckis. He gave us Forrest Gump for which I am eternally gratefull. An american director, executing American stories. They work in his hands. And Brad Pitt.. I love him. A playful actor and I always watch a movie with him in it.

But if you decide - for some strange reason - to give the execusion of this trauma into the hands of Hollywood, you already make a mistake. But if you persue anyway, Robert Zemeckis and Brad Pitt should be the very, very last on your list. Nevertheless they were handed this story and the story ran dead. Why? These two americans have no room in their soul where the emotions needed for this trauma are stored. Their souls hide different colours.

Despite this, I loved to watch the story, like I really enjoy french fries with MacDonalds.

Anderson is by far my favorite director. The man is always searching for new ways of expressing, whether it is on script-, production-, music- or whatever level:-)

This movie ends - after two agonizing hours of exposé - when the story actually is supposed to begin. When these two unusual, seemingly unblendable characters, run on the streets of LA, I think: why oh why do these people make an effort? An effort to blend? Why do they feel attracted to each other?

The answer to this question was supposed to be the middle section of the movie. We would learn about their demons, their tragedy. We would understand why this movie, in fact, is melancholic. Etc etc... But we don't.

Two hours of exposé. Nothing learned.

However, it was a 'party' for the eyes (and LA-lovers like me)

So, this script is...what? Careless? Is it an old idea that he could not let go off? Did he not really research his ow script, seeing the beautiful possibilities of these colourful characters?

Or did anderson, who barely has any flops in his career, just have a moment of weakness, thinking that any idea that pops up in his mind in interesting?

The movie explores but hardly structures and concludes. That makes it boring as a feature film but - if you like the technique of filmmaking like i do - a treat as a rehearsal-exposé, a view on how a future director - and maggie can be a big one - explores the depth and layers of her own emotional life, camera, acting and editing.

There is so much of value in this 'rehearsal' that i cant wait for Maggie's first two or three 'movies'.

Is this 'recording of moving images that tell a story that people watch on a screen' as bad as 'souless entertainment'? No. Souless entertinment is still a statement. This is not a statement anymore. It's less. But what is even worse then souless entertainment which can be described with parameters that we can understand?

Imagine all the valuable symbols art uses, let's take all legends that inspired people for ages, let's take all time, people, effort, but also idea's, fantasy, inspiration, or what to think of bravery, perseverance, sacrifice....spirituality.... Image all this 'energy'.

Now, throw all this sacred energy, in a blender, pulverize it to a sugary syrup, let it be eaten thoughtlessly, spat out, curshed under muddy shoes and left for trash in on the roadside.

This waste of sacred energy is a disgrace.

First of all, I'm a huge fan of Eastwood's directorial work. The man can do nothing wrong with me anymore. So I watched Cry Macho with the pleasure of someone who knows how good the movie could have been, what Eastwood basically could have made out of it, Unfortunately, the film itself... failed.

First: Number 1 rule in the movie-business: 'Show, don't tell'. Film is a visual story method and not a diary.

Eastwood is too professional to put aside a script that doesn't respect this rule. Still, he used this one for his little character-sketch. Perhaps out of professional courtesy to the authors of The Mule and Grand Torino? Who's to say.

The result is a road movie with two self-explanatory characters, who end up in incidents that need no explanation at all.

This makes the film unnecessarily sentimental.

The second problem is the young opponent. His acting is so bad that I am constantly pulled out of the drama. Again, why? It is sympathetic that Eastwood gives a young actor a chance, but then this one must either be well directed or replaced by another. I think the latter, because the rest of the ensemble acts very well.

Third, there was no drama.

Drama, be it physical, mental, or emotional, should be worked through by the characters and not clumsily resolved by circumstances that are beyond the character's control.

Fourth. The main character does not change.

Eastwood is 91. And in this movie he is supposed to play someone who is younger, but still old. With an old main character - especially in relation to a young adolescent - death or themes related to it should be exemined. Dut they are not, because the main character doesn't really have a lot to say. This becomes painfully clear in the chapel of Mary. This problem could have been easily solved by the aforementioned rule: 'Show, don't tell'. Eastwood has the talent to express these unsaid emotions in subtle actions. There is one moment that it does happen, when taming the horses.

Dear Mr. Eastwood, hero, nothing wrong with a lesser film, but if you still have it in you, make another one, with less text, but with the subtlety of a shadow on the wall.

If not, thank you for all you gave. What a rich bouquet.

Like David Lynch's Mulholland Drive and Inland Empire, this one comes with viewers advice: Stop thinking. If you think, you get rather lost, stuck, depressed or frustrated. If you stop, you enjoy a ride full of meaning, possibilities and joy.

Creativity is a non-logical force. It is not located in the brain, but in the belly, from where it finds it way to the heart and the head. Not the other way around. Most artist use creativity for explaining things in a logical form. We entertain understanding their visual story, their beautiful painting or their gripping book. We enjoy understanding the content. But just a few artists use creativity for something else. They, deliberatly or not, don't explain, because the content is not important at all. They want us to use the components of their content to join the creative proces itself. They want us to co-create.

If you stop explaining what you see, when you dare to stop controlling what you see, flow on the emotions it evokes in your heart, when you let the images swirle through your mind and give in to the joy of this sensual mosaic of symbols, you will enforce a proces in your entire body that adds meaning to what it sees. And that meaning is not logical but explains your inner wisdom.

And that very process of adding wisdom is the thing Kaufman wants his viewers to do. He want you to create the story yourself. Become creative , become - or stay - human.

Refreshing a tradition, adding or changing it's texture for the sake of modernity, of course, that's exiting. The shifts reveal tendencies of the Zeitgeist, even more than a stand-alone movie would. The viewer compares old and new within the hero they know so well.

And for a while - and in the hand of a crafted team - it payed off with surprising strength in the Bond franchise (in general the first movie of a new Bond-actor usually has this magic). But something was always spared. Call it the 'entity' or 'essence' of Bond, his archetypical fabric.

But in No Time to Die that fabric dies.

Irrevocably.

Already in the first scene you know it: this is not a Bond movie, this is not Bond-franchise any longer. No, it is a 'normal' movie. Or, an attempt. A mediocre action packed drama about an old man, hunted by ghosts. And when that sentimental Bond song sets in, I feel pity, like I have to comfort someone who lost something, but wants to hold onto it.

Poor Barbara, let me hold you....

Allmost every Bond-tradition in this movie dies, within two hours. Not just the gimmicks, but also the 'feel'. Craig has left the movie but the actor still jumps around, fires a few shots, fakes depth by looking sad in the camera, alternates a few locations that have no artistic coherency, lets someone dear die in his arms as if it were a passerby, and at some point - shoot me please - starts caring about children. Kidding me?!! This over-productive, no, 'unearthly' womanizer, who has a trail of offspring, the size of a medium-sized city (that strangely enough never claim his fatherhood) suddenly develops paternal instincts. Come on!

But the real problem of this artistic mess is this: If a super-hero sequel starts act like a normal movie which is the case here - it transmutes a slice of the old into this new attempt. Unavoidable. And that 'slice' affects every scene with dishonesty. You can only kill a tradition if you stop it and start a new one.

So this new 'normal' movie is a disaster by nature. In every vein of it's production walk ghosts of the past.

So, Barbara.... We don't blame you. But quit the franchise. Please don't continue what this movie suggests!!!

Buy a house up the hill and entertain a new hobby (or become director of scriptwriter). You earned it. You and your father played your game and by God, we loved it! Thank you for decades of pure fun!

But every game deserves a proper ending, not a slow-sadistic continuation into oblivion.

A well-known writer from my country (Netherlands) explained the state of a country through it's humor. When the country is in decay, that process proceeds with the following expressions of comedy: frivolity, irony, sarcasm, cynicism... When the country has reached cynicism, when hope dies, then only infantility can follow. Frivolity again. From there a new phase in the culture begins bottom up.

I would use the word nihilism in the case of Don't look up.

That's why the ending of the movie is REALLY good! If not brilliant in its grotesque ugliness.

With the movie "Joker," the culture of Americanism sent out a terrifying signal; 'we have arrived at cynicism. In commercial entertainment, consumers are now willing to not expect humor anymore, an escape. A happy ending is no longer required.' But it got even worse... The scene in which Joker pulls up the corners of future Badman's mouth is the scary harbinger of the next step in American culture: nihilism.

And so the way was paved for a movie like Don't Look Up.

Nihilism..

I struggled with the first few minutes. I didn't even want to continue watching the movie. But I remembered that, once, I wanted to leave the cinema when viewing 'Natural Born Killers' and 'Pulp Fiction' (I even did that with the first one). Later, however, I had to admit that these movies belonged in my top 10.

So I continued looking Don't Look Up. And the further I looked at the abrasive, primary-color production, the deliberately bad acting, the quasi-messy fillers, and the ease with which the film farted right in my face, the more I understood that I was not as much being challenged to just walk around an average American supermarket, where the nutritional value is so low that you can't even breathe the air, but that I, in fact, with the Joker, at my side, was challenged to examine such horrible department stores, where the Joker pulled up the corners of my mouth and grayed out: Don't you see? Look up my friend!

There are those who claim that Don't Look Up makes fun of conspiracy theorists. Those are unintelligent comments. After all, the big multinationals, who are currently making an insanely amount of money, are literally put in their bare asses here. And comparing Meryl Streep's character to "you-know-who" is also shortsighted. Anyone who saw "House of Card" knows that the leadership of the American Empire is sick to a much more thoroughly extent than just the appearance of that blunt battering ram.

No, this film is, in addition to a sharp analysis of Americanism, about a phenomenon that the Belgian psychology professor Matthias Desmet describes as Mass Formation Psychosis, a horrifying harbinger of totalitarianism. A psychological phenomenon that overshadows the relatively innocent phenomenon of peer pressure; a phenomenon in which people literally no longer want to see which trap they are walking into and, due to a long-term abstinence from self-development and the lack of a broader spiritual perspective, simply fall into the hands of a strong leader, who gives them one perspective: fight pain, fear and death.

Don't Look Up is the dignified and devastating announcement of a long period of global hypnosis, in which man, in the darkness of his fear, must regain his lost connection with his Higher Self.

The movie is so fond of it's own little twists, jokes and self-proclaimed sarcasm - if not cynicism - that it forgets to communicate the importance of it's message. And that importance doesn't allow jokes. Jokes are meant to balance. But there is nothing to balance here. Furthermore, jokes are for the stage, but this is real life.

This movie will come as a blessing to those who are put to trial in her story; they are portrayed as archetypes, instead of real people.

So the fuss will be small, let's get back to business.

And let's toast to harmless entertainment.

A pity that this high-end production is lacking almost everything it should be about.

• it's about Germany but they talk British

-Cruise is mis-casted; there is really nothing German about him

• It's a drama about a keymoment in European history but there are no civilians to be seen, it's almost a stage play with camera's
• it's a story about taking a stand despite personal and human needs, but all important inter-human relations are avoided, there are just orders between men in a green uniform.
• It is supposed to be about a collective achievement but the only one taking the frame is Mr Cruise. And it's annoying.
• the main character is in the middle of external but also internal confusion but the most imporant extra's that could reflect this internal battle are downgraded to an kissing wife and children that he doesn't even relate to. Effect: i don't care at all about them.

Etc....etc..

The production is high end with actors that play their one-dimentinal characters very well, hut this is not a movie about Germany but an episode of Mission Impossible that lacks special effects

If I would judge this movie technically I would give the script a 7, production a 9 and Eastwoods acting a 10. So, in total about an 8.

The 10-rating is because it's an Eastwood movie plus that it delivers what any movie from a director that age should give. It gives condensed and seasoned advise. The Ego of this man is pealed off and his last movies will be the essence of what his life is about. It's nectar. And it feeds my soul.

So don't mind that routine script, don't whine about the straight-forward, universal sentimentality. It's life and life always boiles down to the same thing.

A young director goes places, dives and is puzzled by what he finds, obstructs and goes down and up. A director at Eastwoods's age just looks back and overlooks the bigger picture of his life.

I love his last questions.....

I love the man.