The plot revolves around the Qimen Mechanism Volume that unexpectedly appears in the Ghost Valley Tomb. The Qi and Chu dynasties send men to the tomb to retrieve the treasure volume, resulting in heavy casualties on both sides. Upon receiving the letter from Mu Yuan, Mo Xin, the Mohist leader, rushes to the Ghost Valley Tomb with his senior, Gongshu Ye, and his junior, Ah Bao, with the hope of ending the war. But after overcoming all kinds of obstacles and destroying the conspiracy of the Ghost Valley’s old scumbag, they encounter a greater crisis. Ultimately, the trio work together to resolve the crisis.
In the film adaptation, director Jon M. Chu turns each musical number into a massive show stopper, with grand set pieces and a wealth of diverse dancers. Yet, in this attempt to show reverence for the people of the Washington Heights barrio, Chu, or maybe more specifically those in charge of casting, left out a crucial part of the community, Afro-Latinos.
Mirrorball is full of passion and love for the medium of cinema and is indeed a fitting love letter to La La Land.
With The Father, writer-director Florian Zeller- who wrote and developed the play upon which the film is based- pulls no punches as he confidently makes every effort to put the audience in the mind of someone whose grip on reality has all but vanished. It’s a dazzling testament to Zeller’s abilities as a director as he makes his first transition from stage to film appear as if he’s been working behind a camera his entire career. The dialogue he fashions with co-writer Christopher Hampton, along with the work of production designers Peter Francis and Cathy Featherstone, collectively makes the downward spiral of dementia startlingly tangible, doing so in a way that can be comprehended by everyone except the person it directly affects.
"THANK YOU, Zach Creggar!" Back in 2022, this now established star in the horror film genre gave us the quirkily creepy, unexpectedly funny (at times!) cinematic gem that was "Barbarian". It felt like a cool breeze just washed over us as, for ONCE, the much traversed roads these films tend to go with got an upgrade of uniqueness without sacrificing the ambiance of uneasiness you desire.
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.
The French-born director Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre’s strategic choice to entrust the interpretation of a conventional, feminine character to a non-binary actor pays off: Corrin’s Lady Chatterley is awkward, edgy, and uninhibited at the same time.
