Confessions
For the first time, I’m revisiting and writing about a film that I’ve previously reviewed. It’s enlightening to see how my tastes have changed since over a decade ago.
My earlier rave was not completely misplaced… I still agree with myself that the strengths of the film lie in its poetic style and rhythm. However, I see in my past self a style-over-substance attitude that maybe I’ve outgrown?
Most notably, I’ve come to take more seriously any story about trauma and mental illness. I’m not above enjoying thrillers or horror or action films that deal with revenge, but I think that the style needs to be heightened enough for it to feel fantastical, e.g. John Wick or Kill Bill (although it’s been a long time since I’ve watched the latter).
I had trouble swallowing Confessions this time around because its style is melancholic and realistic. Genre films like action movies or murder mysteries can skip over the trauma of death in favour of plot; but when the trauma is the plot, it carries much more weight. Are we really supposed to revel in the mental torture of children by an adult?
