According to my records, I’ve watched this film four times before this—twice in the theatre, as I recall—but not since 2011. But it feels like I’ve watched it many more times than that. It’s one of those movies where I can anticipate moments just before they happen: I can hear a line of dialogue before it’s spoken; I can see the framing of a shot before it’s cut to; I could even imitate the gestures of the actors before they moved, if I were the kind of person to fidget during movies.
I’m not going to say much more about the movie itself, other than that it holds up and remains one of my favourites. Rather, I’ll use this as an opportunity to reflect on how my media-consumption habits have changed. Inglourious Basterds came out in a time before streaming services and YouTube created this feeling that I always have something new to watch. Back then, I used to rewatch movies and shows (see also: Curb Your Enthusiasm) over and over again. Even if not the whole thing, I would pick out favourite scenes to revisit; for example, the best scene of this film, the chapter in the bar featuring M. Fassbender and D. Kruger.
I’m going to sound like a grumpy old man when I say this but it goes to show that less is more: less choice means that you can spend more time on the movies that you really love, and it’s through repeated viewings that your favourites becomes your favourites.
letterboxd link
I enjoyed the premise and the humour of this Nicolas Cage vehicle. (Am I childish because the biggest laugh for me came from a well-timed fart joke?) Cage plays a boring professor who starts to appear in many people’s dreams, even if he doesn’t know them. The first act setup is at its best when it’s showing the contents of those dreams—whether they be surreal or nightmarish, it’s always funny when Cage wanders in looking bemused and out of place.
The film loses me as it escalates into the second half. It tries to introduce social commentary about the temptations of fame, but its message wasn’t particularly enlightening. It’s too easy to mock college kids for being snowflakes who want to cancel everything. Whether you agree with it or not, it’s a stale stereotype.
letterboxd link
I’ve mentioned before my pet peeve about stories that feature writers. I think I should qualify that a little by saying that if the story isn’t about writing, then the characters don’t need to be writers. You Hurt My Feelings gets an exemption because it’s all about the anxieties and insecurities that afflict artistic people.
I barely consider myself to be a writer, but I could relate to the protagonist, who accidentally eavesdrops on her husband telling his friend that he didn’t like her latest book. I can imagine taking this revelation as hard as she does, if my entire identity was founded on my creative work. Luckily, I have other skills around which to build my sense of self-worth.
The humour in the film leans more towards the cringe comedy style, which I know doesn’t work for everyone. At the end of our viewing, my wife said, “I thought it was supposed to be funny,” apparently not noticing that I had been laughing through the whole thing.
letterboxd link
The character of Lydia Tár is like a fictionalized illustration of the debate that’s investigated in the excellent Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma by Claire Dederer: can we separate the art from the (abusive, problematic) artist? Everyone has to answer that for themselves, and the movie is appropriately evasive about stating a definitive opinion.
It’s almost three hours long, but it flew by for me. Not that it’s fast-paced; in fact, there are many long jargon-filled dialogue scenes, especially near the beginning, where I didn’t even know what they were talking about. But it’s riveting precisely because of this: my mind was just working so hard to convince myself I’m smart enough to understand expert music theory that I could never get bored. Of course, Cate Blanchett’s charisma helps.
What I found most fascinating were the supernatural and almost horror-like aspects of the film. Tár is haunted by her dark deeds, and there are really mysterious scenes where this haunting becomes physically real. The most memorable shot for me was when she’s playing the piano, and then she suddenly startles and looks towards the camera as if someone is there, but we never see what she sees.
letterboxd link
I had heard about the buzz after this film premiered at Sundance. Mostly, the coverage focussed on how many people walked out of the screening, and made it seem like the film had nothing to offer besides a lot of gross-out bodily-function humour. It all added up to me being a bit wary going into the screening.
I’m happy to report that I was pleasantly surprised. I guess I was expecting an aimless, plotless slog where nothing happens, but instead, what I got was a compelling story with distinctive characters and a good mix of comedy and tragedy. If I have one criticism, it’s that the performances were not sufficiently animal-like. I kept mentally comparing them to Andy Serkis in the Planet of the Apes trilogy, which is admittedly a high bar.
letterboxd link
This is a joint review of the two parts of Denis Villeneuve’s Dune. It’s obvious that aesthetically, the film is amazing. Visuals, character design, sound design, music: all great. I’ve had Hans Zimmer’s score running through my head for the past two years. The scene with the throat-singing shaman or whatever is burned into my brain.
On the other hand, I found the storytelling difficult to get a grasp on. In each of the two parts, I enjoyed the scene-setting of the first half of the runtime. But then, as soon as the plot started to accelerate towards the end, the pacing felt both slow and rushed at the same time. I think the story is just too complicated to fit into a movie. (Maybe, just maybe, the early 2000’s miniseries and its sequel did a better job of making the story clear, but I haven’t watched those in a long time, and I don’t trust my fond memories of it.)
At the end of the day, the feeling I’m left with the most is the desire to read the books again.
letterboxd links 1 2
A well-constructed horror movie with effective scares. It’s especially cool how whenever the ghouls/creatures appear, only one person can see it, but everybody else in the room can see the one person’s reaction. Once this is set up, they don’t even have to show the creature anymore, and it’s still just as creepy because you’re reacting along with the others in the room.
I was less engaged with the backstory of a tragic death in the family… the movie was aiming for a high level of difficulty in terms of emotional poignancy, but it felt rote to me. Suicide as a subject matter is hard to get right; it’s a fine line between treating it with empathy and using it as an exploitative plot point. One could write a whole thesis paper about when it works and when it doesn’t, and I don’t think I have it in me to get into it in a quick review like this.
letterboxd link
To paraphrase an old wise man… who’s the more psychopathic: the serial killer, or the fan who’s obsessed with him?
The film follows the trial of a man charged with killing multiple victims and recording the murders to post on “le dark web.” In the viewing gallery are a couple of young women who are “fans” of the killer.
I admit my attention wavered a bit during the first half, because the main character is so mysterious that there’s nothing to connect with. But I really enjoyed how the movie escalates once she starts taking action. Her motivations are still unclear, but it’s fun to try to figure her out.
letterboxd link
On the surface, the plot of this movie could be an episode of CSI or Law & Order, and that’s what makes it so watchable. But it dives much deeper than the typical crime procedural, and shows how the criminal justice system rests on taking a tiny slice of people’s lives, and inventing a narrative and motive out of it. Of course, those lives, and especially the relationships in those lives, are much more complex.
There’s a memorable flashback scene featuring one of the ugliest couple fights I’ve ever seen. They’re both writers, and they resent each other for how time is spent towards their creative pursuits. On the one hand, it’s become a pet peeve of mine for stories to feature the writing profession. (Can’t writers write about something other than writing?) But on the other hand, the feeling of not having enough time to write—and especially the temptation to blame the people in your life for it—hits pretty close to home for me.
letterboxd link
Entertaining to watch, and gives you reason to root for a group of young activists, even if their actions undoubtedly lie in a moral grey area. In the end, though, the web of their backstories feels more like a point-form enumeration through the harms of corporate-backed climate change, rather than the lives of fully realized characters.
Your mileage may vary with the retro aesthetic. Personally, I don’t love the gritty 16mm look.
letterboxd link
