In May 1945, a woman in Marienbad reports a murder - committed in 1933 against the German emigrant Professor Lessing. She also names the murderer. Against the wishes of his superior, who does not feel responsible for this case - it was a fascist femicide - Inspector Šedý picks up the trail and arrests the murderer, the German Eckert. Eckert was a fugitive at the trial in 1933, and now the evidence is no longer available. Nevertheless, Šedý does everything he can to convict him. He finds witnesses who support him - anti-fascists, but also former collaborators who want to clear themselves. Reconstructing the case at the crime scene, Šedý is able to prove that Eckert was at least an accessory. He is convicted. After his release from prison, Eckert goes to West Germany, where he demands compensation from his former clients.
We, the Jane Austen aficionados, are suckers for everything and anything under the sun that’s remotely related to her and her world. That’s because we are so drawn to her unique style of fiction, romance, and social commentary, we take any allusion to her influence as a hint to what to expect when we start watching a movie or reading a book.
Him is visually stunning—all concrete cathedrals and bone-rattling impact shots that look like a nightmare highlight reel. Marlon Wayans is magnetic as this legendary quarterback who's basically selling salvation with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. But the story keeps running in circles: more tests, more cryptic pep talks, more ritualistic drills. The sports-as-religion metaphor beats you over the head when subtlety would've been more effective. The middle drags, and that finale chooses spectacle over substance. It's undeniably stylish, but left me cold. Also worth noting: despite the Monkeypaw connection, this isn't actually a Jordan Peele film—he didn't write or direct.
Omaha reminds us of what it can feel like to look at old family photographs. You sit with the bittersweetness, allowing it to wash over you; not drowning in it, but certainly affected by it.
It’s fun, it’s energetic, but it’s also understated and vicarial. Zola is a modern black fairytale and future of black movies.
In The Women and the Murderer, directors Mona Achache and Patricia Tourancheau center women—the very demographic true crime is designed to appeal to.
A Christmas tale that everyone is wishing for, and that everyone will remember.
