My 2024 Watchlist Obsession!

It's funny to think now, that there was once a time you could travel so far away as to be beyond reach of family, friends and the society you grew up in. Not only that, but for the the Danish, who laid claim to the vast Icelandic landmass far to their north-west, you could set yourself up on an icy shore far from any other human being, or land-mammal - bar the few you bring with you. For priest Lucas (Elliott Crosset Hove), it doesn't only feel far from the reach of Danish society, but perhaps God himself. He's warned by those higher-ups tasking him with setting up a new church there that the challenges will be immense, and although that sounds like it might be hyperbole when spoken aloud, the experience proves that the effort needed was actually understated. The journey alone will nearly kill Lucas, and will kill at least one of those he travels with. This experience shakes the priest's foundational faith in just about everything, and makes it hard for him to step outside of himself and communicate with his Danish/Icelandic compatriots at the village he arrives at - something patriarch Carl (Jacob Lohmann) interprets as weakness. The one passion Lucas has outside of his faith is his 19th Century camera, but as romance blossoms between him and Carl's daughter Anna (Vic Carmen Sonne) and as he rages against the man who frustrates him the most, Ragnar (Ingvar Eggert Sigurđsson) this priest's lack of focus and the picture-perfect idealism he's lost in this harsh land sees his world spinning out of control, and his morals slipping through his fingers.

Surprisingly, this is one I regret not seeing on the big screen. Cinematographer Maria von Hausswolff won various awards for her work, including the prestigious Bodil - it's shown (and this has become something of a trend) in 4:3 aspect ratio, with the corners of the screen rounded off as if we're looking at old photographs. This is obviously connected to the whole set-up which frames our journey - the story about a cache of wet plate photographs in Iceland taken by a Danish priest in the 19th Century. We see the photographs Lucas takes as the film progresses, and they help emphasise this or that during crucial stages of the emotional peaks in the narrative. It's the Icelandic geography and landscape that sets the scene though - and I swear I've never seen a land with so much beautiful variation and powerful displays of glorious magic and majesty. The great contrast is of course the fact that travelling through this glory of God is completely destroying a priest, who at times can do nothing but curse "Satan" as if the beauty is simple deception, and hides fangs. A great part of the film hinges on what this duality does to Lucas, and how hard this man of God finds the process of adaptation - chafing against language differences and local customs. It's as if this mission has come too late for him, as he's already set in his ways.

It's easy to find God glorious when you're comfortable and happy, and I guess it's easy to see a lion as beautiful when it's not chasing you, or when you're not in it's jaws. What occurs henceforth on this priest's journey is for those who travel with him by watching this movie - one which I thought was really excellent for both those who love visual beauty and those who love drama and deep meaning. It gets quite wrenching once it builds to it's final act and series of climaxes, and is overall one I'd definitely be in the mood for seeing again one day. I tried watching it as a way to distract myself a little from a family tragedy, and while I simply brought that tragedy with me and never forgot it for one second, I still found some solace in the film's beauty - and at times could connect so much more keenly with the pain embroidered into it, because of the way I was feeling personally. I've always liked films from this corner of the world, and remember a time when I looked at quite a few Icelandic films - surprised that such a sparsely populated place could produce an assortment of talented filmmakers. I've seen Hlynur Pálmason's A White, White Day before, and that was quite good as well. Godland doesn't totally rely on it's stunning photography - it has a lot more going for it - but that is one aspect that really sets it apart. I found it ironic that a place of such beauty should have so few witnesses to it's splendour and magnificence, but I guess that's one of the reasons it's kept that beauty intact up until now. God made that place for those who can appreciate what it takes to survive it.

Glad to catch this one - it came so very close to be nominated for a Best International Feature Oscar - made the last 15. Premiered at Cannes, and it also won the Gold Hugo for Best Feature Film at the Chicago Film Festival.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Godland

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Let's get straight down to the nuts and bolts of this - Palm Trees and Power Lines features 34-year-old Tom (Jonathan Tucker) meeting and seducing 17-year-old Lea (Lily McInerny) - taking his time to sweep her off her feet so that the doe-eyed, madly-in-love teenager is completely in his thrall. It all plays out as if this might be some kind of worrisome love story - or at least it would if we couldn't clearly see through Tom's cynical use of lines such as "you're so much more mature than your friends" (Lea clearly isn't) and "were we brought together by fate?" Tom is like an experienced hunter stalking his prey, and gives everything plentiful time instead of rushing anything. He absolutely knows what he's doing. When red flags start popping up all over the place, Lea is quite alarmed, but at the same time wants to believe in all of Tom's explanations and excuses - which he deftly fashions with all the aplomb of a first rate con-man. Is she going to believe some stranger, or the love of her life who treats her like a princess? In the meantime we watch on with growing discomfort as we get closer and closer to that critical moment where Lea becomes completely devoted to this man and the trap slams shut.

Yes - for all those thinking about how they'd feel watching this film, you'll experience a lot of anger, nausea, discomfort and sadness. It's easy to see why being 17 is so difficult for Lea - the film is told from her perspective, and we see in her gaze a desperate need for something more than her mother or other teenagers can give her. Lily McInerny gives something of a breakthrough performance here, strongly conveying her dissatisfaction at first, and then her complete transformation as a girl in love. Her character isn't one-note or annoying at all - she's not a silly ditz, and you can tell that she's intelligent and has a lot of potential. Of course you want to scream loud enough for her to hear you - but at the same time every step she takes closer to Tom is understandable at least. She's as blameless as a character can be under these circumstances, as it's Tom's cunning, patience and good looks which work most every time you'd think when applied to the right 17-year-old girl. It's that fact alone that makes Palm Trees and Power Lines such a maddening, horrifying film. Just to raise a daughter is to lament the predators out there, who have no shame or guilt.

I almost called this movie "a sickly love story" - it's not a love story of course, but the reason I nearly lapse into calling it one is how we see everything from Lea's point of view, so it takes the form of one. That means it's really not easy to watch at all - we have to helplessly witness all of the events, physical and emotional, as everything unfolds. Every time Lea comes face-to-face with reality, you feel your pulse quicken and hope that one revelation or another will enlighten her to the point of salvation. She's smart enough to see the signs - but at the same time completely lost, and sometimes I think our brains aren't wired for the world we confront today. At least this film gets us thinking though. Through it I kept pondering that perhaps there should be a lot more education concerning what we see here - Lea is at first afraid Tom might rape or murder her when he invites her into his car, but isn't alert to men with bad intentions playing the long game and hurting girls that way. Depressingly, we'll probably always have to deal with predators, and with men who exploit young women - destroying lives, and using the wonder of love as a weapon to wield for their own selfish, criminal desires. It's the ending of Palm Trees and Power Lines that really gets you. See it, and you'll see what I mean.

Glad to catch this one - Jamie Dack won the Best Director Award at the Sundance Film Festival for his work here, and brought home several other American and international festival awards to boot.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Palm Trees and Power Lines

Good movie I thought.

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I’m here only on Mondays, Wednesdays & Fridays. That’s why I’m here now.

Have you seen Red Rocket? And if so, how would you say this one compares?

Yeah, I like Red Rocket - that and this film are about as different as you could get tone-wise. Palm Trees and Power Lines isn't as colourful, and is instead very much (100% really) true-to-life and sober. Also, while we basically saw everything from the guy's point of view in RR, here it's the girl's point of view - her family and her friends make up all of the characters in this. We never see any of Tom's life, or meet any of his cohorts. There are no fun moments in Palm Trees and Power Lines - even moments of tomfoolery and laughter have that awful, "we see the whole picture", mood to them, so you could call this "horror" as opposed to Red Rocket's "comedy" if you painted in broad strokes. This one is more subdued and low key as well. Much more uncomfortable - especially when you get to the more visceral parts near the end.

The Eyes of My Mother doesn't want to shock you, despite being an at-times grisly horror movie - it wants you to feel empathy and think about grief. Murder and mutilation can happen between scenes, and Nicolas Pesce is much more determined to make sure we don't miss moments when the loneliness of main character Francisca (Kika Magalhăes) becomes too much to bear - the pangs echoing through her physical body until they make their way to her vocal chords and we hear her desperate cries. At times like these, she'll do something like dig up her mother's skeletal remains and hold them, wash her dead father's naked corpse in the bathtub, or kill again. Those who are familiar with Jeffrey Dahmer might find this character comparable - but I don't want to dig too deeply (no pun intended) into what happens in this film otherwise I might spoil the constant surprises that spring forth from it's off-kilter narrative. Francisca's mother (Diana Agostini) was an eye surgeon, and when she was a little girl her mama used to dissect cow eyes for the curious little girl, showing her how they worked - the parts that the light shone through, making them the so-called "window of the soul". So, when trauma takes it's toll, Francisca brings to bear her own unique interpretation to what a relationship is - much to the misfortune of those who meet her.

After the constant run of two-hour plus movies I've been watching lately, The Eyes of My Mother felt like a thief in the night - here and then gone in 76 minutes which feels so disorienting, especially with the abrupt "middle-of-a-climax" ending it has. It's monochrome visual style lent the movie an aura that's almost feeling too familiar these days - but it does the job of providing a very specific kind of atmosphere, and you can't really complain about that. I can imagine this as a much longer film, showing us the violence that we often only discover has happened while it's being patched up, wrapped for storage in the fridge, tied down, washed or hidden. Perhaps though, it's more of a shock to suddenly be presented with an aftermath. Our imagination has to fill in the gaps then. Then again, the horror of it all really is the uncomfortable question of "what goes on in a girl's mind, when the result is Francisca?" What kind of torment does it take to make a Jeffrey Dahmer? To push those predisposed far enough, the tale must be sad, traumatic and weird. That's The Eyes of My Mother.

So, was this interesting, compelling, frightening, memorable, enjoyable? Yeah - in it's own minimalist way. It's interesting how blurred the lines are here concerning whether Francisca is a victim or assailant - especially considering her isolated environment. As the film comes to it's close you might find yourself shocked to be feeling emotionally protective regarding a character who has done horrendous things - but that's probably because The Eyes of My Mother focuses so much on her trauma and loneliness. The rest is a blur - which does so much to disorient us that we cling on to what we know all the more, that Francisca is drowning in the void. Visually, the whole film feels like a dream, and the film's inerrant but very strange rhythm just emphasizes that effect. The most discomforting feeling regarding a horror film like this is the fact that we know what Francisca does actually happens out in the real world - that her most aberrant modes of behaviour aren't so crazy as to be confined to the screen, even though they're hardly common. But the fact that this is a movie makes it easier to feel pity, and in turn I spent a moment or two thinking about grief and the infinite ways it can manifest itself. Not a bad effect for a movie to have.

Glad to catch this one - it won all of it's awards at the "Fantastic Cinema Festival", so I don't know if money changed hands there or if Nicolas Pesce's brother runs the festival or something.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch The Eyes of My Mother

Gotcha, thanks! I felt like Jonathan Tucker had really fallen off the map for a while. I feel like the last time I saw him was in a random episode of Hannibal.

Okay! Time to get the party started! Who's up for some existential dread? I was once told something alone the lines of "If you're worried about the fact that you're inevitably going to die, then that means you must be alive - and if you're alive you don't have anything to complain about." That statement starts to lose a lot of it's meaning if you're presently about to die though, and that's what She Dies Tomorrow really explores - our grasp of our own mortality when we don't have the comfort of time to placate the alarming concept/inevitability. It does this in a really original, imaginative, and free way - when Amy (Kate Lyn Sheil) calls friend Jane (Jane Adams) in an unusually despondent manner, little does the latter know that Amy is host to a kind of mind virus that is highly contagious. The symptom is an unshakeable belief that the infected person is going to die the next day. Although there's no evidence, those who are experiencing this are absolutely certain, and so they behave almost as if the world is about to end altogether. Their shocking behaviour makes sense only in this context - with all rational thought gone by the wayside they rage against the dying of the light, make the most of all their senses and free themselves from normal societal constraints. What does anything really matter anymore?

She Dies Tomorrow could present it's 'mind virus'/'I'm going to die' premise in a fairly straightforward way I guess, but that's not what Amy Seimetz does. This is a very trippy movie - and it's not long before you realise and/or question if perhaps there's some kind of hallucinogenic substance involved with what's going on with Amy to start with (or at least I did), and I feel comfortable revealing that about the movie, because the answer to the 'is there, or isn't there?' question is so complex and shaded that there's no definitive answer, and also that's absolutely not the point of the movie anyway. The effects of such substances aren't transmittable or transferable, but regardless, the effects do mimic "tripping", and that provides the audience with interesting sights and sounds - instead of being dour the film is a psychedelic ride at times. It's as if the concept of death itself is so far from our normal mode of thinking that it veers our usual thought processes from the way they typically operate. It's true that it's hard to know what it feels like to be on the verge of death - who among us can say they've experienced that? Their perception warped, the characters in this film start behaving in strange ways also - they become more honest, decisive and less inhibited. They also cross moral and legal boundaries without a thought about the consequences.

We live in a world that functions the way it does because we put the thought of the inevitability of our death aside, and distracting ourselves from that reality is the only way we move forward and exist as constructive members of society. That in itself is an interesting topic to base a film around, and so as a concept I really liked Amy Seimetz's movie a lot. The cinematography was really good, and interesting in what it asks us to focus on. All of the performances were good - I especially loved catching up with Jane Adams, who is probably the best of the bunch here. To segue from normality to "I'm going to die" isn't easy, especially when you have to maintain such an unusual mood for your character to be in over the length of time it takes to make a film. Seimetz is a talent, and She Dies Tomorrow a brave, intelligent and authoritative artistic creation. The score, thanks to The Mondo Boys, fits the mood and enhances it. Just don't go in expecting a straightforward narrative that will lead you to answers - this is about our relationship with the fact of our inevitable demise, and not the 'what', 'why' or 'how' of anything. As much as I fear death, intellectual queries surrounding the subject have always excited me - be they songs, books or films. In some ways, it's the most important and revealing subject there is.

Glad to catch this one - Jane Adams ended up being nominated for a Florida Film Critics Circle, Chlotrudis, and Indiana Film Journalists Association Award.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch She Dies Tomorrow

She Dies Tomorrow (thoughts here) is a movie I had to rewatch in part to try and understand. I generally liked it, but it didn't fully click for me.

I much preferred another film from the same director, Sun Don't Shine.

Daniel Isaacson (Timothy Hutton) is trying to make some kind of sense of his life after a traumatic childhood - his parents are based on real-life couple Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, who were executed for espionage after being accused of and tried for providing the U.S.S.R. with top secret information involving, among other things, nuclear weapons. In this film their names are Paul Isaacson (Mandy Patinkin) and Rochelle Isaacson (Lindsay Crouse), and instead of two sons they have Daniel and Susan (Amanda Plummer) who are only children when the couple are arrested and pretty much shafted by the justice system - as Daniel starts to discover as he hunts down everyone involved in the whole saga. He feels compelled because his tortured sister has been hospitalized and is on a downward spiral after attempting suicide. That's the nuts and bolts of Daniel, which switches from "back then" and "now" in twin narratives Godfather Part II-style, showing us how passionate the Isaacson's were about their political convictions, and how traumatized their children are to suddenly find themselves virtually orphaned when police come, ransack their home, and spirit their parents away. It's a heart-rending story.

I can't say that I know all that much about the whole Rosenberg affair, apart from the fact that I hear it might have been the publicity surrounding their trial and execution that encouraged Lee Harvey Oswald to become interested in Marxism, Socialism and the Soviet Union. In any case, from what I can glean reading up on the case, there's little connection between reality and this film, which basically uses the bare facts as a template for this Sidney Lumet drama. It was his follow-up to The Verdict, but ended up as one of his bombs that certainly lacks the prestige of that classic. I liked this though - up to a point. I think it might have been a little uneven in intensity. Timothy Hutton is amazing though, and it's only unfortunate this film wasn't more successful, because it would have shone a light on another top-drawer performance. I absolutely love Amanda Plummer as well - she's a favourite of mine, so to discover that she's in this was like a wonderful surprise. I only wish her part had of been larger. Lumet's partnership with cinematographer Andrzej Bartkowiak was also of great benefit - the energy that protests consist of, and the period urban environments of time periods stretching from the 30s to the Vietnam era are brought to life with very thorough panache.

At it's core this was a really sad story that traces childhood trauma, and it was that which moved me more than the McCarthy era politics being reexamined and flaws in the American justice system probed. Still, it was really interesting and ambitious to combine all of those themes and subjects in this movie, and see two young adults that have been thrust into a world they never chose for themselves - just because of the convictions their parents had, and how that affected the lives of their children. It seemed like Daniel and Susan felt dutybound to continue to fight, simply because their parents died fighting. I certainly didn't think this was a bad movie by any means, and I thought it was terrific up until the last half hour where it seemed to lose a little momentum and focus, having expended so much energy and emotional force. Opinion on the movie is wildly mixed, with it being panned and praised in equal measure - I'll just say that if you have the ability to handle executions, funerals, suicide and kids struggling after losing their parents it's a great movie. Sad, with the potential to make you angry - but in Lumet's hands not depressing at all. Just righteous, up-front and searching - and I'm always up for that.

Glad to catch this one - no awards, the critics didn't like it and the movie bombed. I still liked it though.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch Daniel

I went looking for big Pacino performances I might have not seen yet after watching ...And Justice For All, and the only one left now is an obscure 1977 Sydney Pollack film called Bobby Deerfield. Pacino had some kind of early career - for playing Arthur Kirkland in this film he received his 5th Oscar nomination in 7 years. He really goes for it, and the screenplay (written by Valerie Curtin and Barry Levinson) is such that it never feels like shameless Oscar-baiting - this is a great movie that demands an explosive turn from this explosive actor. Justice and the justice system are subjects you can easily get very worked up about - there are many a documentary that make the most of the way injustice can trigger very deep-seated emotional responses. In ...And Justice For All we get to see how lawyer Arthur Kirkland ends up failing clients through no fault of his own - they end up victims of some very arbitrary and nonsensical kinks in the system. A completely innocent man ends up with 5 years in prison, despite the fact that the very judge that sentences him knows he's innocent. Another ends up inside because a parole report is carelessly fudged, and the lawyer substituting for Kirkland lets it slip his mind - sending this man to his doom. These people are usually poor, and of course for the privileged the balances are weighted the other way.

Kirkland ends up having to represent a judge, Henry T. Fleming (John Forsythe), who he hates and is being tried for rape and assault - he has no choice, for if he refuses he'll end up being disbarred because he was once too honest, and informed on a client. Blackmail. Now, I always thought that if an attorney knew a client was guilty, or was committing crimes, he could inform the cops - or remove himself from the case - but I'm no expert in legal ethics. I would have liked to have been a prosecutor though - perhaps in another lifetime. Kirkland is friends with another defense attorney, Jay Porter (Jeffrey Tambor) who loses his mind over the guilt he has from having a client acquitted only for that client to go out and murder again. He's also on good terms with Judge Francis Rayford (Jack Warden) - who is suicidal, and shares a helicopter ride with Kirkland in a memorably comedic rollercoaster segment of the movie. Used in small doses, Pacino's wild and very vocal stylings can be very funny. He's also in a relationship with a legal ethics committee member, Gail Packer (Christine Lahti) - a character he can unload upon to give us a sense of where Kirkland is - still centered when we meet him. He also visits his grandfather, Sam (Lee Strasberg) who raised him, but now has dementia and lives in a home for old people. The film is rich in characters who are extremely well defined. Kirkland's sense of despair over the lack of real justice he sees in the system slowly unravels this man, because he genuinely cares about the people he represents.

There was a nice balance in ...And Justice For All concerning the deadly serious and overpoweringly grave subjects, which are the crimes and various punishments that are explored (not always in equal proportion), and the plate smashing/helicopter crashing antics which act as a release of the terrible tension weighing on the film's characters, and thus sometimes on us. When Pacino smashes the windshield of a fellow lawyer's car, it not only feels cathartic - it's very much deserved (if something you'd advise against in real life.) Every day, the life of real, flesh and blood people are in the hands of Arthur Kirkland. Who'd want to be a defense attorney really? It seems like having human emotions would eventually break you - and having to let go of injustice and not end up in contempt of court would be nearly impossible. Very gritty movie this though - with a lot going on adding substance to the main storyline featuring the judge up for rape and assault, and Kirkland's defense of this cruel and capricious man who deems those he sees as beneath him all deserving of the worst abuses the prison system can dish out. Best of all is the passion unleashed from the red hot Al Pacino - possibly the best in the business at the time. "You're out of order! You're out of order! The whole trial is out of order! They're out of order!"

Glad to catch this one - another Oscar nomination for Pacino, and a Best Original Screenplay nod for Valerie Curtin and Barry Levinson. Pacino was also nominated for a Golden Globe. Dustin Hoffman ended up winning the Oscar and Golden Globe, for his role in Kramer vs. Kramer.




Thank you very much to whomever inspired me to watch ...And Justice For All