There are many films piercing through Cecilia King’s first feature; there’s a film about a family (her sister, her mother, her aunt, her grandmother)… There’s also one about being an Argentinian woman of Korean descent visiting Korea. And another one about being a Korean woman who, at the same time, acts like someone from Buenos Aires. There’s family love, friendship, the small tragedies and the great ones, emancipation, heartbreak, creativity. And none of these storylines drives us to a feeling of drift; they are parts of a mosaic that is pieced together in the viewer’s head thanks to a solid, strongly emotional core: the life of the director, who, in a spontaneous and loving display of generosity, dedicates My Last Failure to (in this order) a teacher from childhood, her eternal friends and her sister.
One of THE most frustrating trends in the mainstream film industry over the last several decades has been the onset of comedy efforts that seem SO focused on being crude and/or gross-out in all ways possible. That, at least for me, makes them no longer funny.
Americans love the British monarchy. This may seem confusing because only a few short hundred years ago they were our worst enemies, and every year we celebrate our independence from them. The Crown humanizes the monarchy, which might explain its popularity.
'Don't Lose Your Head' follows the motto of "grades aren't everything."
When we hear Korean Cinema, we often think of South Korean Cinema, but what about North Korea? Sure, North Korea has its propaganda moments, but 'Pulgasari' might be its best one yet.
A film for the post-MeToo era that inverts the narrative with an ironic coda, Tár depicts the duality of a sensitive artist capable of great evil and vile manipulation.
