Incluvie – Better diversity in movies.
Identity in film with Incluvie stamps, scores, reviews.

Incluvie – Better diversity in movies.
Explore identity in film with Incluvie stamps, scores, reviews, and insights.

Våld poster

Våld 

It is 1940. A young man is facing court martial on charges of conscientious objection. He admits the crime. The prosecutor demands a most severe punishment. While waiting for the verdict, the young man think back of his past. How could this happen?
- / 5
PopScore
Representation

Pictures and Videos


Incluvie Gala

Movie Information


It is 1940. A young man is facing court martial on charges of conscientious objection. He admits the crime. The prosecutor demands a most severe punishment. While waiting for the verdict, the young man think back of his past. How could this happen?

Rating:
Genre:Drama
Written By:Lars-Eric Kjellgren, Olle Länsberg, Ingvar Wahlén
In Theaters:
Box Office:

Runtime:111 minutes
Studio:AB Svensk Filmindustri

Articles You May Like


"First Girl I Loved": A Well-Intended but Ultimately Flawed Story of Identity

Despite its glaring flaws, First Girl I Loved is not entirely undeserving of a watch. For people who can handle the more difficult aspects of the story and graphic scenes, it is worth looking into. It’s not a film worthy of rewatch, but it may still resonate somewhat with those who need a story like this. It is a genuine, if flimsy attempt at a coming-of-age tale. Were the film to be directed by someone with experiences more similar to Anne, it would likely be more powerful--as it is, it feels like a man’s perspective of what it means to come to terms with your identity as a lesbian. 

Marisa Jones

"Him" - All Flash, No Game

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.

Nilufer Ozmekik