Sam Neill's best performance

It is never right to reduce an actor to a single role, but for me Sam Neill (who died last week) will always be about one little known film from 2008 I saw a while ago, in terrible quality, on a small computer screen. And yet it remains one of the most special cinematic experiences in my life.  

Dean Spanley is that rare combination of charming and bizarre that, if done properly, will always leave a mark. The film is billed as "a surreal period comedic tale of canine reincarnation exploring the relationships between father and son and master and dog". And it is all that, too. Sam Neill plays a clergyman who has a weakness for Hungarian Imperial Tokay wine. Weakness, though, does not even begin to cover it. For when Dean Spanley drinks the wine (slowly, meditatively, with tiny sips), he starts to relive memories from his previous life. During which he was... a Welsh Spaniel. 

There are moments in the films where the plot gets so eccentric it really should fall apart. But it doesn't. Instead, it inhabits its own strange world so comfortably, with such disarming commitment, that you simply get lost in its atmosphere. And at the heart of it all is Sam Neill who is clearly relishing the wine and the canine memories (both funny and sad). Relishing the role. When he is saying that you can't commit a bigger crime than to drag your dog from a lamppost with its complex mixture of odours... As a dog owner, this goes right through my heart. 

As does this story, and this film. Dean Spanley is the epitome of 'special', like so many other brilliant but unflashy and obscure works of art I have discovered over the years (Good Things by Epic Soundtracks, Kafka Was The Rage by Anatole Broyard). It gets inside you and it stays there. It evokes something you never knew could be evoked. And it is all done through the absolutely magical performance of Sam Neill. The way he closes his eyes when he drinks Tokay... You wish you could taste just one sip of that, and God only knows what memories would follow. 

A few words about Marty Supreme

It's been a strange year for films in the sense that I don't think I've been truly impressed by any single one of them. Sinners had great sound and visceral energy but ultimately seemed a little confused about what sort of film it wanted to be. Sentimental Value felt like a wonderfully executed Bergman pastiche. One Battle After Another is not even a top 5 Paul Thomas Anderson film. Hamnet tried too hard. Quite honestly, if it were up to me, I'd give the Oscar to Train Dreams. Which, incidentally, nobody is even talking about anymore.

Instead, everyone is talking about Marty Supreme. Again, a very good film - but just how good, really? 

Take a look at the running time. Why on Earth is it two and a half hours long? What is the dog story even doing here? Shave off 30 minutes at least, and you get a much better film.

Or let's consider Timothée Chalamet. A truly convincing performance that works well within the context of this breathless, highly entertaining film. The problem is - his acting remains remarkably depthless. And no, the last scenes did not fool me.

Overall, it just felt like this panic-stricken style of filmmaking (see Josh Safdie's previous film Uncut Gems) replaces real emotional content with attractive tension and never-ending anxiety. So much so that when something actually emotionally charged appears, like the honey story, it is no more than a technical anecdote. Worse, it feels empty.

So again - a fun film, an entertaining film, but also one that amounts to very little.  

Three films. Underrated.

While there were enough great films in 2025 that got universal acclaim, these three deserved more. 

Anniversary (2025) dir. by Jan Komasa 

I have already written a full review of this, but I would like to stress once again that Anniversary by the Polish director behind Corpus Christi is one of the most unjustly ignored films of 2025. Due to its explosive content (prescient, horrific), the film received next to no publicity. A shame, really, because this dystopian story of American future (present?) is frankly devastating.

Yes, there are certain problems here (mainly with the tone which is a little patchy), but overall this produces one hell of an impression. And again, I admire Komasa's guts for going to the US and doing this. Also, I don't think it is physically possible to hate anyone more than you will hate Dylan O'Brien while watching this film. 

Blue Moon (2025) dir. by Richard Linklater

The most surprising thing about this film is that it is not, in fact, a play. Blue Moon looks very much like something you would see in a theatre. Basically, the whole film revolves around one evening in a bar, a few characters and a heartbreaking unraveling of one man. Ethan Hawke plays Lorenz Hart, the famous lyricist who made up one part of the legendary Rodgers-Hart songwriting duo. It is early spring in 1943, and Hart is there to meet his songwriting partner who is currently working with a different lyricist (Oscar Hammerstein II) and who is about to celebrate the great success of his new musical Oklahoma!

A talkative, foul-mouthed Hart is willing to speak to anyone who wouldn't mind listening. A barman, a journalist, a guy who delivers flowers, a girl he thinks is in love with him, a young aspiring pianist playing nearby. There is a lot of bitterness here, and false hopes, and failed romance, and love for art and music. The conversations with Rodgers (played by Andrew Scott), when we get to them, are painful and revealing, but a certain hope is always there. You want him to succeed, against all odds. He is the man, after all, who wrote the lyrics of "My Funny Valentine". A powerful little film, and Ethan Hawke deserves every award for this performance.

Hallow Road (2025) dir. by Babak Anvari

Again, a somewhat subdued, almost intimate piece that was overshadowed by much flashier films in 2025. But I loved this to bits. Hallow Road is a psychological thriller that manages to mess up with your mind in a very creative manner (watch the end credits). 

A couple (played by Rosamund Pike and Matthew Rhys) receive a distressed phone call from their daughter with whom they had just had an awful row. Apparently, she got into a terrible car accident and needs their help. We do not even get to see the young woman, just hear her voice. Naturally, Pike's and Rhys's characters drive through the night to save her, and all kinds of bizarre things come to light on their way. 

Hallow Road is just 80 minutes long, and it is so fucking tense it won't let you relax for one second. Again, a brilliant little film, with quite an ending.

Film review: ANNIVERSARY by Jan Komasa

Jan Komasa really took a gamble here. Anniversary is his first film released outside Poland, and for his English-language debut he chose to go all in. Well, maybe not all in, but it certainly takes guts to exploit the current state of American society with a political psychodrama. Audacious would be an understatement. 

The film got little to no promotion from Lionsgate studios which feared Anniversary would prove too controversial. This is sad for two reasons. First, the film is likely to end up being a box office flop. Secondly, it is a really powerful cinematic experience, one that will haunt you long after the end credits.

It will not flop in Poland, however. Polish people love their heroes, and a relatively young filmmaker doing it in the US (and Great Britain, too; Komasa's second film, The Good Boy, is coming out in 2026) will not go unnoticed. The cinema hall in Wroclaw where I watched it a little while ago was anything but empty. The audience was buzzing excitedly at the start of the screening, and left limping and downtrodden, haunted and traumatised. It is that kind of film.

And yet it is exactly what you would expect from Jan Komasa. If you have seen Hater or Corpus Christi, you have to realise that the bleakness will be gripping and the smiles will be compromised. Gripping is the word here. For all its darkness and ever-impending gloom, Anniversary is extremely watchable. Partly this is due to exemplary acting (Diane Lane, Kyle Chandler, Dylan O'Brien, Phoebe Dynevor - they all excel) and partly due to the meticulous, smart direction. 

Oddly, the trailer almost makes it seem like a horror film - but it isn't, or at the very least the horror is manifested in a different way. We start with a close-up of Elizabeth Nettles, a young woman who is about to be introduced to her boyfriend's parents at their 25th anniversary party. She is carefully practicing exactly what she is about to say. Because there is a past: she used to be a student of her boyfriend's mother, a radical one, with some hair-raising views of democracy. What soon transpires is that she has actually written a book about the future of America, and the cult following soon becomes reality. The whole thing unfolds in a gradual but totally relentless way. Like a heavy train that just won't stop. It is a chilling, absolutely brutal experience. But God you cannot look away. 

Anniversary tackles a lot of things, and some could say that it tries to handle way too much for a film under 120 minutes. There is a difficult question of modern-day academia. Conformism. Democracy. US politics. Family dynamics (there is a particular Thanksgiving Party scene that is some of the tensest and unbearable filmmaking I have seen in a while). However, I would argue that the film deals with all of those issues quite well, and manages to weave them all into one coherent narrative. The most common issue raised by American critics is that the film does not take sides. Which is interesting. Not in the sense that it does actually take sides (it does not), but in the sense that it is viewed as a flaw (and this, I believe, is where we come to the very line that separates Hollywood from European cinema).

There is no moment of respite here, though, not for one second. It is just this one ruthless onslaught, and maybe I do miss a little humour (I don't mean jokes), a little heart - sometimes Anniversary may feel a little too slick and calculated, a little too perfectly conceived and executed. After the first fifteen minutes of the film, the only genuine smile you see in the film comes from Josh (Dylan O'Brien), Elizabeth's boyfriend and future husband. But it is the kind of smile that will fry your nerves and fill you with utter hate. 

P.S. Also, just for the record, "Don't Dream It's Over" truly is one of the finest pop songs ever written.

On Mulholland Drive. Again.

Every time that I hear that ominous hum and step into the world of Mulholland Drive, my heart stops. Or, rather, it expands, and fills me with a rather complex feeling of warmth, dread and confusion. It is every shade of the original meaning of the word 'awesome' rolled into one perfect cinematic experience, and after all these years I still cannot get over it.

Mulholland Drive is my favourite film of all time, and this time in Warsaw, I finally got the chance to see it on the big screen. Besides the sheer joy of watching the film for the umpteenth time, I was genuinely excited about sharing this experience with those who have never seen Mulholland Drive before. I envy them. In their presence, I feel like a smoking addict who has to abstain but who can still sniff nicotine off the cigarettes of other people. I feel like a Belarusian who cannot go back but who leans closer to those who hold tickets for tomorrow.

The cinema in central Warsaw was not packed but it did not need to be. This was a special one-off screening very late in the evening, on Easter Monday, that was not heavily advertised. Which means that everyone who came simply had to be there. They gasped, they gulped, they held their breath. Every step of the way there was a sense that I knew exactly what they were going through: the thrill, the bewilderment, the inexplicable catharsis. I fed off their energy.

Not that I needed that to enjoy Mulholland Drive, of course. The world of David Lynch is so multi-dimensional you can always discover a new turn or a passage you have never seen before. The song from the Silencio club will get a new undertone. The close-up in apartment 17 will appear more shocking. The nightmare recounted in Winkie's diner will acquire a new meaning. This time, for instance, I was more impressed than ever by the clarity of Lynch's vision and how tight that surreal and seemingly confusing world really is. For every loose end disappears and every key finds its lock. Like I have always said: if you do not understand Inland Empire, it is okay. That film is not even entirely gettable, other than on a purely intuitive level. Saying that about Mulholland Drive, however, betrays a certain lack of attention.

So it was a little less dread and confusion this time, and a lot more warmth. Because even at his most shocking and brutal (it was just as brutal for the actors, too, and I remember an interview with Naomi Watts where she spoke about her frustration while the famous couch scene was being shot), you get the feeling that there is always good around the corner, not just evil. It is always there, an inherent part in David Lynch's films. And whether it is present in reality or in a dream is somewhat immaterial - because when it comes to Lynch, those two realms are of absolutely equal importance. 

Three films. Thumbs up.

First, I would just like to mention two that did not make this list. One is Lee, which apparently many people were too cool to appreciate. Various critics have called it too conservative or else boringly conventional, but I beg to differ. I loved this film. I loved the subject matter (and have long been interested in Lee Miller's work) and thought Kate Winslet gave one of her best ever performances (which does say something). Plus, how could you ever resist that ending? 

Also, not because it is a masterpiece or anything like that, but simply because the reviews were undeservedly cruel, I would just like to say a few good words about Slingshot. It is a harrowing sci-fi film about a mission to Saturn's moon that kept me on edge all the way through. Casey Affleck really is one of the finest actors of his generation.

The Brutalist / dir. by Brady Corbet

I'm sorry for the obvious pun, but this was indeed rather brutal. Despite the short 15-minute intermission, the length of the film (three and a half hours) was definitely a challenge. That said, I left the cinema completely overwhelmed by Brady Corbet's cinematic language. That of nervous half-truths, horrible hints, half-closed doors and devastating understatements. Each and every scene in the film, every conversation, is imbued with the director's unique voice. 

First time that it unsettled me was back in 2015, when I saw his powerful debut The Childhood of a Leader. With Scott Walker's pounding, unnerving score, that film felt like it was speaking a different language. Scott Walker is now long dead, of course (The Brutalist is actually dedicated to him), but the score still retains those grandiose qualities. It certainly goes well with the brutalist architecture that is at the heart of this story. The Brutalist explores many themes, from immigration to Holocaust to the difficult relationship between the artist and the moneyman. The scenes are memorable, expansive, like huge slabs of Italian marble.

As for Adrien Brody, he is of course brilliant. His face is this rich Pollock's painting of pain and anguish and tortured inspiration. If they give the Oscar to Timothée Chalamet, that's a fucking scandal.

A Real Pain / dir. by Jesse Eisenberg

I thought this would be a pleasant little trifle but A Real Pain turned out to be one of my films of the year. I have since watched it two times, and my love for it has not dwindled one bit.

Two American cousins undertake a trip to Poland (the film is lovingly shot, clearly Eisenberg admires the country - he has even applied for Polish citizenship) in order to explore their past. Their Polish grandmother had recently died and left them some money for just such heritage trip. In the process, we get caught up in the strained relationship between the two main characters. I do not think it would be a stretch to say that Jesse Eisenberg plays Jesse Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin plays Kieran Culkin. Which is not meant as a criticism. As a matter of fact, I could watch them for days talking on that roof in Lublin.

The film has some powerful and incisive things to say about the past and the Jewish experience (basically, Culkin and Eisenberg play two sides of a Jewish personality - one successful and well-off and the other lives with a packed suitcase by the door). There is one scene in Warsaw that some of our more conservative Polish comrades could find problematic, but I personally had tears in my eyes all the way through. Either from crying or laughing too hard.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig / dir. by Mohammad Rasoulof 

Even though I'm hardly an expert on Iranian cinema, I love what I have seen. Abbas Kiarostami has become one of my favourite filmmakers, and I remember being very impressed by A Separation a decade or so ago. 

Which is to say, it was not surprising that I ended up loving The Seed of the Sacred Fig so much. And also, being a Belarusian, how could I not? The film deals with a family living amid the recent Iranian protests in Tehran. The main character is given a high-profile job of an investigating judge which basically forces him to condemn innocent people to prison sentences and death penalties. This certainly takes its toll, and this is compounded by the fact that at some point the gun he was given at work disappears. The final third of the film will have you on the edge of your set.

It is impossible to speak about this film without mentioning that the film was shot in secret, and later the director had to flee the country on foot, and the main actress was sentenced to flogging. A hackneyed truth, of course, but still: the disgusting regime will fall, and I do not believe that anyone who has seen this film will ever forget it.

Three films. Thumbs down.

It is quite hard to watch a bad film these days. Not because there is a lack of them (far from it), but rather because it has become too easy to pick and choose your way and sort out the dreck after reading reviews, watching trailers and perusing critical ratings. There is a lot to be said for random cinema-going, but since I do not have enough time for that, these are probably the only three flat out bad films I saw in 2024 (which means it is entirely possible that Coppola's Megalopolis in not on this list simply because I chose to avoid it).

Drive-Away Dolls / dir. by Ethan Coen

It is, indeed, very sad that a Coen brother was involved in this. Namely, Ethan Coen, who directed this train-wreck of a road comedy about two lesbians who by sheer accident come to possess some important cargo. The cast is good, and from a certain angle it does have a feel of an oddball Coen brothers film. It is when you look closer that you see that this is just silly fluff that has none of the substance and the density of something like Raising Arizona. Besides, Margaret Qualley keeps doing this preposterous southern accent that comes off as a bad gimmick gone horribly wrong.

The film is bizarrely short (under 90 minutes) but it was a true slog to watch it until the end. There are maybe two jokes in the whole thing that land, everything else feels misguided and pointlessly vulgar. 

Hit Man / dir. by Richard Linklater

There were two films about hit men that I watched in 2024. One was called The Killer, starred Michael Fassbender, and was genuinely good. Chilling, powerful, understated. The other was the action comedy Hit Man which I switched off fifteen minutes before the end. 

I guess I simply do not get Glen Powell. He seems to be this hot new star who just appears bland to me. In Richard Linklater's latest, he plays a psychology professor turned undercover police officer whose job is to pose as a hit man to save a girl he loves. The premise is not even too bad but God this is such superficial nonsense that I spent one half of the film rolling my eyes and the other half thinking why am I doing this to myself? In the end, after no longer being able to endure the cheesy chemistry between the two main characters, I put myself out of misery. This was contrived and unfunny, and I'm a moderate Linklater fan.

Gladiator II / dir. by Ridley Scott

I was an impressionable teenager when the first part came out, and I loved it to bits. It may have been something more than that, in fact. An obsession. I was obsessed with the music, with Russell Crowe's voice, with Joaquin Phoenix's pettiness. Everything about it hit me where it was supposed to, and over the years I still tried to follow the crazy rumours of a possibly sequel supposedly written by Nick Cave (?), supposedly about Maximus in afterlife. 

Having watched the bullshit cash-grab that is Gladiator II, I guess they should have gone for Nick Cave's script. Gladiator II is way more silly and ridiculous than anyone's idea of an afterlife. It is, basically, just a series of admittedly effective fight scenes, laughable plot twists and characters repeating the 'Rome was a dream' phrase that is rendered completely meaningless by the end. Gladiator II is entirely devoid of emotional substance (it is impossible to care for Lucius, and it is not even a knock on Paul Mescal), and it only stirs something inside when the images and the music of the original film make their appearance.

Some people complained about the idea of sharks in the Colosseum. God, if that was the biggest problem...

Dylan: 10 best songs

It was with a very heavy heart that I went to see A Complete Unknown the other day. Two minutes in, though, and I was just happy to be there. I left the cinema with a spring in my step and the sound of about a dozen Dylan's songs playing in my head at the same time. 

That's right. I liked the film despite the fact that I'm still not convinced by Timothée Chalamet (I thought that his portrayal of Dylan was somewhat depthless and that he probably overdid that nasal thing), despite the fact that they did not do justice to Suze Rotolo (who was reduced to a Hollywood trope), despite the fact that towards the end of the film they seriously tinkered with history (a work of fiction is just that, though: a work of fiction) and despite the fact that I'm Not There still is the greatest Dylan film ever. 

What's important is that I found the whole experience so emotional I could barely hold back my tears during some of the performances (kudos to Chalamet for learning to sing and play all of those songs). I would even watch it all over again, at some point, even if I'm still not sure if that is because the film is great or simply because I love the songs so damn much. 

Speaking of which. I used to play this game back in the day: 10 best Dylan songs. There is of course no way you can ever hope to make a list like that without hating yourself or regretting those great choices you had to forego. But still. 10 best Dylan songs. As ever, the golden rule remains the same: not more than one song per album. 

Oh and as a bonus: I will attach my favourite lyric / verse from each song. Because, after all, this is Bob Dylan.

10. "Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again" (1966)

Dylan was in such an imperious form in 1965/1966 that almost any song from Highway 61 Revisited or Blonde On Blonde would do. "Stuck Inside Of Mobile" is infectious and intoxicating and could go on for a million more verses for all I care. 

Grandpa died last week
And now he’s buried in the rocks
But everybody still talks about
How badly they were shocked
But me, I expected it to happen
I knew he’d lost control
When he built a fire on Main Street
And shot it full of holes

9. "Blind Willie McTell" (1983)

That Dylan recorded this during the Infidels sessions and chose not to include it on the actual album is surely one of the biggest mysteries of the man's career. (For the record, Infidels is not as bad as they tell you.) "Blind Willie McTell" is a timeless folk classic that was released a decade later, as part of the third Bootleg Series collection.

Well, I heard that hoot owl singing
As they were taking down the tents
The stars above the barren trees
Were his only audience
Them charcoal gypsy maidens
Can strut their feathers well
And I can tell you one thing
Nobody can sing the blues
Like Blind Willie McTell

8. "Love Sick" (1997)

Back in 1997, I did not even know that Bob Dylan existed. And yet I can probably imagine what a pleasant shock Time Out Of Mind was for people. After years of treading water, after a string of misguided albums and a couple of LPs covering folk standards, Dylan released a true stone cold classic. "Love Sick" is murky, minimalist and absolutely devastating.

I see lovers in the meadow
I see silhouettes in the window
I watch them ’til they’re gone and they leave me hanging on
To a shadow

7. "Changing Of The Guards" (1978)

I've been addicted to this song for far too long to omit it from this list. The strangely underappreciated Street Legal has other good songs ("Señor", "Is Your Love In Vain") but God do I love this one. Yes, with that booming production, those backing vocalists, that saxophone. The groove is endlessly ecstatic, and the imagery of the lyrics is awe-inspiring.

Gentlemen, he said
I don’t need your organization, I’ve shined your shoes
I’ve moved your mountains and marked your cards
But Eden is burning, either brace yourself for elimination
Or else your hearts must have the courage for the changing of the guards

6. "Love Minus Zero / No Limit" (1965)

I would look with suspicion at anyone who doesn't think "Love Minus Zero / No Limit" is one of Dylan's very best ballads. 

In the dime stores and bus stations
People talk of situations
Read books, repeat quotations
Draw conclusions on the wall
Some speak of the future
My love she speaks softly
She knows there’s no success like failure
And that failure’s no success at all

5. "Tangled Up In Blue" (1975)

Famously, George Harrison was a fan of this one. And who wouldn't be? I personally love Planet Waves, New Morning and even Selfportrait (remember, Dylan was massacred for that one), but it was Blood On The Tracks that restored everyone's faith in Dylan back in the day. Quite simply, "Tangled Up In Blue" is a masterpiece both lyrically and melodically.  

I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs
There was music in the cafés at night
And revolution in the air
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside

4. "Hurricane" (1975; live version from The Rolling Thunder Revue)

Dylan saw the violinist Scarlet Rivera playing in the street and thought she just had to be in his live band. And what a revelation she turned out to be. This political epic would be an undisputed highlight of next year's Desire, but Rivera absolutely tears it on this live version that can be found on the Live 1975 bootleg (which no person with even a passing interest in Dylan should be without). My head starts spinning when I just think about this performance.

Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell

3. "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" (1963)

This was very effectively done in the new film. As Dylan is recording the song, a studio engineer asks: "Who wrote this?" Dylan's manager gives the laconic reply: "He did". More than 60 years on, it is still mind-blowing that someone could put their pen to paper and just do it. 

Still I wish there was somethin’ you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin’ anyway
So don’t think twice, it’s all right

2. "Ballad Of A Thin Man" (1965)

I used to have a theory that even a Dylan hater would love this song. And I've actually known a couple of people who proved me right. I can't think of another song in which every lyrical line, every bang on the piano makes my spine tingle and brings on a new wave of goosebumps.

You raise up your head
And you ask, “Is this where it is?”
And somebody points to you and says
“It’s his”
And you say, “What’s mine?”
And somebody else says, “Where what is?”
And you say, “Oh my God
Am I here all alone?”

1. "She's Your Lover Now" (1966)

And yet I choose this one today, the Blonde On Blonde outtake (partly reminiscent of "One Of Us Must Know") that was first released in 1991. I don't even know why. I just remember that back when I heard it for the first time, I began to laugh uncontrollably. My stomach and my chest were actually contorting with nervous, stifled giggling. It has only happened a few times in my life. Some of James James' short stories did it. "Astronomy Domine" did it. Joaquin Phoenix's acting in The Master did it. Dylan did it with "She's Your Lover Now". I guess this is just my physiological reaction to what is commonly referred to as 'genius'. 

P.S. Plus, the abrupt ending is genuinely hilarious.

Yes, you, you just sit around and ask for ashtrays, can’t you reach?..

Three films of 2023

I feel like I do not have it in me to write an obituary. I will only say that we will now be living in a world where a new David Lynch film is an impossibility. And that is a sad and pathetic world. Grey and increasingly more hopeless, and made even worse by two psychopathic clowns, Trump and Musk, who are about to compound the overwhelming misery. Oh how appropriate that scream at the end of the third season of Twin Peaks really is.

As for this piece, it is to do with three 2023 films that were released in the cinemas in 2024. When I do my annual write-up on cinema, in about a month or so, I will only focus on last year. In which case these three will be missed, and they deserve so much better. 

The Beast (2023) dir. by Bertrand Bonello / France

There are bits and pieces of Henry James's great little novella The Beast In The Jungle behind this - but this is still very much its own thing. The Beast is this beautiful mindfuck of a film, with a plot that moves from distant to recent past to frankly rather disturbing future in a grotesque and at first somewhat confusing manner. After some time, though, it all falls into place, and when you understand what is going on here, the whole thing becomes very tight and impressive. 

In the future, everything is controlled by AI and people's emotions are surplus to requirements. However, humans can undergo a certain 'cleansing' procedure to rid themselves of real feelings. Which is exactly what the character of Léa Seydoux is trying to do. The setting moves from early 20th century France to 2014 Los Angeles to 2044 Paris, and we go through some vaguely familiar scenes - the very last one being absolutely devastating, and quite Lynchean in its own surreal way. 

La Chimera (2023) dir. by Alice Rohrwacher / Italy

Like The Beast, this felt to me like a total left-field masterpiece. Only this film has none of the slickness of the The Beast. It is set in Italy in the 1980s and tells of a group of looters who dig out Etruscan treasures and sell them to collectors. The main part is played by Josh O'Connor (who was great in both Challengers and Lee), and he is absolutely phenomenal here - but I was also really impressed by the Brazilian actress Carol Duarte who gives one of the most charming and natural performances I've ever seen.

It is a very arthouse sort of film, but La Chimera gives that word a good name. Because for all its playful eccentricities (the scenes where Josh O'Connor's character finds the treasures are truly bizarre), the film has real emotional depth. The last scenes in particular are some of the most powerful cinema in recent memory.

Perfect Days (2023) dir. by Wim Wenders / Japan

Back in the old days, one of my pet peeves was people telling me that Wings Of Desire was the greatest film of all time. I used to fight each and every one of those people. Much has changed since then and I have softened to it a little (that said, I still find it vastly overrated) - but it is only now, with Perfect Days, that I can safely state that Wim Wenders has finally made his masterpiece. 

Not Wings Of Desire, not Paris, Texas - but this, a meditative, almost wordless film about a Japanese toilet cleaner in Tokyo whose daily life we witness over the course of several days. It is a mesmerising film, and it felt so great, and so calming, to be part of the experience of watching it after a long working day in a half-empty Polish cinema. Wenders forged something timeless out of routine (Kōji Yakusho is hypnotic in his role, and especially in that memorable close-up at the very end), and did it so well that Lou Reed's song is merely an afterthought.

Conclave

You know that feeling when someone's hand is rummaging inside your backpack? It does not even matter whether you know whose hand that is. Your enemy's or your best friend's. What matters is this great sense of discomfort that ties a painful knot inside your stomach. You feel powerless, cheated, compromised. 

Which is exactly the sense I got when I watched films like Breaking The Waves or Dogville all those years ago. One way of looking at it would be to say Lars von Trier is a masterful director who can really get into you. I would argue, however, that the sour taste goes way beyond that. Because I do not actually mind the sense of discomfort when it comes to art (after all, there is nothing especially comforting about the image of Leopold Bloom ogling girls on the beach), it is manipulation that I find so jarring.  

Von Trier is not even the worst culprit. The Danish director is hardly idealogical (as he himself would be the first to admit), he is only there to manipulate your senses. Which, let's admit, is hardly a criminal act. To some extent, most art does that in order to exert impact on its readers and viewers. It is just that von Trier mutilates a duck for you to get there. Whether he does that figuratively or physically is an entirely different matter; the problem is that it all results in a certain lack of sincerity that has little to do with great art. Still, it is somehow much, much worse when art goes after your politics. Like Conclave, for example.  

And God do I hate to say that. Because I was really enjoying the meticulously constructed tension right until that unpredictable final act. An act so unpredictable as to be completely and utterly predictable.

The film is based on Robert Harris's 2017 eponymous novel about the death of a Pope and a rather lengthy election of a new one. This could sound impossibly dull, except that the devil is, of course, in the details. Actors like Ralph Fiennes and Stanley Tucci really stick their teeth into the material, and right away you are caught in the little games that everyone seems to be playing here. The sheer amount of plotting and scheming is quite impressive, and it is intriguing to get behind the scenes of a world so famously cloaked from the rest of us. Especially when you add to it the lush cinematography (the scene with umbrellas is immediately iconic), the unsettling music and the silent and mysterious figure of Isabella Rossellini. 

That there is so much dirt and backstabbing in the world of organised religion is hardly surprising. That there are different factions within the Catholic church is equally credible. That the whole thing is teeming with scandal is common knowledge. The film deals with these matters very skilfully (the more I think about that script, the more Machiavellian it gets), and I actually enjoyed those brief yet insistent moments of the outside world encroaching upon the intimate proceedings. However, when the final act finally started, I actually began to whisper to myself, prayer-fashion, begging for them not to go there. But they did, full-on. 

It is not even about my politics, really. Or anyone else's, for that matter. Being an immigrant, I hated the image of that girl on the balcony at the end of Knives Out. And being an atheist, I equally hated the cheap resolution that Conclave finally settles into. Still, I am not going to spoil it for anyone. Because I believe the film is worthy of being seen (worthy of an Oscar for Ralph Fiennes, too) - if only to witness how badly it all falls apart at the end. With what manipulative twist. With what religious abandon. 

Фільм. "БЕЛАРУСКІ ПСІХАПАТ" (2015) / Мікіта Лаўрэцкі.

Цікава, што пэўны час пасля прагляду фільма я думаў пра слова "беларускі" ў яго назве. Бо што робіць Дзіму, хлопца без пачуцця гумару, з бліскаўкамі на скронях і жаданнем дэманстраваць незнаёмым людзям свае "геніяльныя" турыстычныя фота з Мальты, што робіць яго не проста псіхапатам, а менавіта беларускім псіхапатам? Бо ніхто ж, напэўна, не будзе адмаўляць знарочыстую амерыканскасць Патрыка Бэйтмана з рамана Брэта Істэна Эліса. Але што робіць псіхапата Дзіму з дэбютнага фільма Мікіты Лаўрэцкага беларускім? Мне падаецца, што гэта не пустое пытанне.

Думаю, што кожны, хто хоць нешта ведае пра сучаснае беларускае кіно, чуў імя Мікіты Лаўрэцкага. Ён стварае незалежныя, нізкабюджэтныя фільмы ў жанры "мамблкора" (калі ў двух словах, то гэта калі крыху дрыжыць камера і маладыя людзі шмат размаўляюць паміж сабой), і кожны з іх можна паглядзець на яго YouTube-канале. Мікітавы фільмы дэманструюцца на міжнародных фестывалях, а калі казаць пра яго паўнаметражны дэбют ("Беларускі псіхапат"), то ў 2015 годзе ён стаў лепшым ігравым фільмам у нацыянальным конкурсе "Лістапада". Інакш кажучы, прагляд яго стужак быў толькі пытаннем часу.

Не адмаўляю, што я абраў менавіта гэты фільм з-за яго назвы. "Беларускі псіхапат" - не абы-якое словазлучэнне. Яно мае вагу, пэўны мастацка-гістарычны багаж, і я адразу ж зразумеў, што нават калі будзе дрэннае кіно жахлівай якасці, пра яго ўсё роўна будзе цікава пагаварыць.

Але ж я не мог адарвацца. "Беларускі псіхапат" наўрад ці зробіцца сапраўднай падзеяй у вашым жыцці, але кіно гэта так утульна існуе ў сваім добра акрэсленым свеце, у сваёй сыраватай чорна-белай бурбалцы, што нельга не адчуць эмацыянальнае напружанне таго, што адбываецца на экране. Бо героі ў фільме цалкам зразумелыя, і нічога тут не адбываецца без мэты. І кормяць катоў тут не проста так, і словы падбіраюць далёка не выпадкова. Пасля прагляду фільма ўважлівы глядач успомніць і тыя словы, і тых катоў. Пра ігру актораў у такім жанры казаць цяжка, але няёмкасць ад плоскіх інтанацый Дзімы (дарэчы, ролю іграе сам Лаўрэцкі) прабірае да касцей. І хочацца ці тое смяяцца, ці тое закрыць вушы.

Сюжэт фільма не пакідае шмат месца для фантазіі. Тры дзяўчыны вырашаюць паехаць на дачу, дзе хлопец Дзіма (ледзьве знаёмы адной з іх) святкуе дзень нараджэння з двумя сябрамі. Гэта класічны пачатак для трылера ці фільма жахаў, і ў гледача не павінна быць аніякіх ілюзій. Але ж яны ўсё роўна з'яўляюцца, тыя ілюзіі, бо ты добра пазнаеш і людзей, і іх размовы. Нават псіхапат Дзіма, які адзіны за сталом есць гэты моташлівы торт, упускае цябе ў сваю прастору (але ж гэта вельмі цесная прастора, і змяшчаецца ў маленькім ванным пакоі, дзе за некалькі секунд адбываецца хічкокаўская і, бадай, самая кінематаграфічная сцэна ў фільме). Так, што пэўны час ты існуеш у даволі няёмкім, але цалкам небяспечным вымярэнні "Беларускага псіхапата". 

І вось тут, як мне падаецца, хаваецца поспех фільма. Ён ў тым, як добра Лаўрэцкі гуляе з танальнасцю. Бо менавіта тут крыецца змрочная, крыху таямнічая эфектыўнасць трэцяга акту - які ты павінен быў чакаць, але з нейкай прычыны чакаць перастаў. Бо, напэўна, паглядзеў у простыя, шчырыя вочы псіхапата і паверыў. Можа, і цяпер я думаю пра гэта і баюся ўчытаць у твор неіснуючыя ў ім сэнсы, можа тут і хаваецца таямніца слова "беларускі", якое пазначана ў назве фільма?..

The Zone of Interest

Sometimes an idea is so good and so unequivocal that everything else will simply fall into place. Such was the idea that Jonathan Glazer extracted from Martin Amis's 2014 novel The Zone of Interest, a short but powerful book set in Auschwitz during the Second World War. The idea was to show the seemingly normal, orderly life of Rudolf Höss. To show the wife, tending the garden, and the children, running around the house, and to have the horrors of Auschwitz as merely the backdrop to picnics and petty laughter at the kitchen table. 

All great art gets off on a juxtaposition, and you will not find a stronger one than the juxtaposition at the heart of The Zone of Interest. It is as hypnotic as it is absolutely sickening. Across the street and over the wall, there is an unbearable cacophony of screams, shots and constant beatings (the kinds that, inevitably, ooze into the subconscious of Höss's children). Outside, there is unspeakable ash flying in the air. Inside, the wife of the camp's commandant (the quietly sinister Sandra Hüller) is considering the latest batch of clothes she got from Jewish women about to be led into the gas chamber. 

The film is a succession of simple words and insignificant actions but the underlying tension never leaves the screen. How could it?.. In fact, the only breaks from the gruesome routine come by way of a village girl who is seen in dream-like sequences leaving food for Auschwitz prisoners. These scenes bring some otherworldly humanity into this hell on earth, and in his interviews Jonathan Glazer tells a beautiful story about how he actually met this girl while shooting The Zone of Interest in Poland. Now well into her nineties, she really was doing that every night while living near the camp at the time and being a member of Polish Resistance. 

The Zone of Interest is clinical at showing the evil of the mundane. Hannah Arendt famously spoke about how there was nothing special about Adolf Eichmann and others like him. They were insignificant, one-dimensional people who were doing their small jobs. Rudolf Höss, too, was doing his job, and was only occasionally distracted by his wife's garden, sex with Jews, his great love for dogs and the efficiency of crematoriums. However, you will always be aware of the powerful impact of every small detail in this film. With that unnerving sound design, with those beautiful flowers of Auschwitz, the film has the kind of understated quality that overwhelms your whole being.  

Three films. Thumbs up.

Like I have said previously, there were many good-to-great films in 2023. Some were hilarious (Theater Camp, possibly the best comedy I have seen in years), some puzzling (May December, a strangely hypnotic exercise in style from Todd Haynes) and some downight bizarre (Poor Things, a fascinating feast for the eyes and the senses). Too many to name. These three, however, were my absolute favourites. That is, until I get to see The Zone of Interest in a week or so.

Past Lives (2023)

Having watched this film two times now and read a couple of interviews with director Celine Song, I know I will always be on the lookout for whatever she does in the future. This is smart, emotionally devastating filmmaking that starts haunting you long before the final credits. Astounding that this is only her debut.

It is a semi-autobiagrophical film that started, according to a Celine Song interview, exactly the way Past Lives begins: sitting in a late-night bar in New York City, watching three people having a conversation and wondering about their story. The actual story turns out to be as simple as it is complicated. Love, immigration, dreams, the weight of the unspoken. It is also a universal story, one that absolutely anyone can relate to. I know I did.

Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

The subject of unconditional love has always fascinated me, and this French film by Justine Triet might be the most astute and incisive work on the matter.

Visually, it is all quite simple. Anatomy of a Fall is a story-driven film that nevertheless throws a few great tricks along the way, especially when it deals with the way a blind boy perceives the world in which his mother may or may not have killed his dad. It is primarily a courtroom drama that kept me on the edge of my seat and never offered a single easy answer. Also, Sandra Hüller's performance is out of this world. The scene during the trial when she asks the judge to switch from French to English was, for me, one of the tensest, thrilling, and most unbearable scenes of last year.

The Holdovers (2023)

So much has already been said about how this film is a new Christmas classic, and how it looks exactly as if it was made in 1973, and how every performance is just superb. All I can say is that it is all true. All of it. I can't wait to see it during next Christmas, it did provide a great escape (isn't that what cinema is for, anyway?), and Paul Giamatti and the rest of the gang all deserve their accolades.

An American boarding school for the rich and the privileged is closed for winter holidays, and a grumpy old professor is forced to spend it with a few holdover kids (those who had nowhere else to go). Also, there is a cafeteria manager whose son has recently been killed in the Vietnam War. This is such a brilliant setup that there is no chance it could fail. Not when you have such phenomenal acting and Alexander Payne's knack for tasteful, brilliantly realised and nuanced restraint. 

Three films. Thumbs down.

Despite the fact that 2023 was an exceptional year in terms of film releases, these three get an unquestionable thumbs down. 

Wonka (2023)

I don't like musicals, Oompa Loompas and Timothée Chalamet. 

Speaking of Oompa Loompas, they were one of Roald Dahl's more questionable creations, and I am not sure anyone can adapt them for screen in a way that would not make my skin crawl. Tim Burton's 2005 take failed, and this version from Paul King (who made the excellent Paddington) is hardly an improvement. Overall both versions are okay, but whereas I do not mind a hammy Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka, I just find Timothée Chalamet impossibly dull. He was somewhat amusing in his brief role in Don't Look Up, but his range is mostly limited to the vaguely mysterious pout of Call Me By Your Name. 

This is not a bad film, and parts of it are rather entertaining, but with three major ingredients being so unpalatable, I stood no chance here.

Saltburn (2023)

Well, I laughed. 

The most divisive film of 2023 turned out to be unintentionally hilarious. At some point during or after the grave-humping scene, I actually thought this was all just a comedy and I had been had. Almost everything about this film seems fake and uncertain of itself. No rhythm, no conviction (despite a few strong performances), and the whole thing just falls apart during its third act. 

There are bits and pieces that threaten to work as unsubtle, in-your-face satire (eat the rich and the rest of it), and it is wrong to criticise a picture for having just negative characters, but I need a little more than a couple of revolting scenes and an improbable resolution to stay with me after watching a film. Come to think of it, even The Riot Club was a more satisfying experience.

Barbie (2023)

Again, there are parts of this film that I found okay (not least the much lauded comic turn from Ryan Gosling), but mostly this was shallow fluff with an ending so trite I regretted those two hours of my life I would never get back. There are maybe three funny jokes here, everything else is just coloured in pink. 

A student of mine has recently said to me that she thought Taylor Swift was actually a wrong person to be named by Time magazine as the person of the year. According to her, they should have gone for Barbie. A scary thought. One, though, that is very difficult to dispute.

Фільмы. СМЕЦЦЕВАЯ ГАЛАВА, КОТКА, ДЗЁННІК АНАСТАСІІ / 2022

Я разумею жаданне пайсці ў Прада ці ў Нацыянальную галерэю Лондана. Я разумею, калі жаданне гэтае лунае ўвесь час над галавой і перакрывае ўсё астатнее. Але ж які сэнс у працах старых майстроў, калі не з'яўляецца гэтай хваравітай, крыху вычварэнскай прагі да новага? Да музея ці невялічкай галерэі сучаснага мастацтва, з карцінамі без назваў, з відэазапісамі, дзе нічога не адбываецца, з інсталяцыямі, якія хочацца схаваць ад дзяцей? Мне падаецца, што гэтая прага мусіць быць, гэтае памкненне, гэты інтарэс. 

Так, яшчэ ў Менску я хадзіў на ранішнія сеансы "Лістапада", дзе дэманстравалі змрочныя дакументальныя стужкі, якія ніхто і ніколі ўжо не пабачыць. На Адэскім фестывалі я ўвесь тыдзень праводзіў у кінатэатрах і бачыў як безумоўна вялікае, так і зусім недарэчнае. Так адбывалася і на Варшаўскім кінафестывалі, дзе эксперымент суіснаваў з вялікай польскай традыцыяй. Я наогул люблю кінафестывалі, якімі б нязначнымі і малавядомымі яны не былі. Фестываль "Паўночнае ззянне" наўрад ці можна назваць малавядомым, але гэта ўсё ж падзея, ад якой чакаеш не столькі вялікіх кінастужак, колькі дзіўных цудаў. А таксама эксперыментаў і поўных правалаў. Тое, дарэчы, я і атрымаў. 

"Паўночнае ззянне" праходзіла для мяне ў фармаце анлайн, і пачалося са скандынаўскіх кароткаметражак. Сентыментальны чорна гумар дацкага Авантурыста, эфектнае расшчапленне часу напрыканцы фінскага Тууліккі... Адчуўшы пах крыві, я пачаў у нейкі момант шукаць цудаў і ў беларускіх фільмах, якія таксама дэманстраваліся ў межах кінафестывалю. Вось тры з іх.

"СМЕЦЦЕВАЯ ГАЛАВА" (2022) / Юрый Сямашка

Аднойчы, калі я вучыўся яшчэ ва ўніверсітэце і пісаў дыпломную працу па Тэатру Абсурда, я знайшоў забытую беларускую п'есу Ігара Сідарука "Галава". У гэтай п'есе былі паказаны асноўныя беларускія архетыпы, але галоўным персанажам была ўсё ж Галава, статычная і маўклівая, якая ўвесь час знаходзілася на сцэне (была пры гэтым папяровай, драўлянай і потым жалезнай), уплывала на жыццё беларусаў і вызывала страх у кожнага, хто знаходзіўся каля яе. 

Смеццевая галава, чорна-белы манафільм беларускага рэжысёра Юрыя Сямашкі, была для мяне своеасаблівым вяртаннем да старой п'есы Сідарука (пра якую, дарэчы, мне распавёў некалі Пятро Васючэнка). Галоўны герой, самотны смяцяр з Менску, знаходзіць аднойчы галаву, якая можа размаўляць. Смяцяр жыве ў дэпрэсіўнай хрушчоўцы, з сабакам па клічцы Прохар, і вось у нейкі момант у яго жыцці з'яўляецца смеццевая галава, якая выконвае пажаданні (калі яны ёсць). 

Фільм Юрыя Сямашкі, які паўстае тут таксама як аператар і адзіны актор, гэта менавіта тое, чаго я чакаю ад добрага фестывальнага эксперымента: шчырая прага да кіно, якая прадзіраецца скрозь маленькі бюджэт і захапленне раннім Лінчам. Гэта шурпата і няроўна, але гэта харызматычна, і гэта застаецца ў памяці.

КОТКА (2022) / Ната Карнеева

Яшчэ адзін беларускі фільм з праграмы фестываля - гэта вельмі кароткая і мінімалістычная стужка Котка. Фільм доўжыцца ўсяго 12 хвілін, вялікая частка з каторых - какаінавы трып. 

Усё пачынаецца з прыгожых планаў на будучыню. Гераіня дэманструе маладому чалавеку (мужу?) прататып дома, у якім яны будуць жыць. У голасе надзея і пяшчота. Потым адбываецца той самы трып, які доўжыцца вечнасць. Потым будучыня, якая нагадвае па змрочнай, непрагляднай атмасферы апошні фільм Андрэя Звягінцава. Усё ў фільме грунтуецца на недаказанасці, якая, на жаль, хавае звышпрадказальную гісторыю. 

"ДЗЁННІК АНАСТАСІІ" (2022) / Максім Буйніцкі

Шчыра кажучы, больш за ўсё ў гэтым годзе мяне цікавілі фільмы па-за межамі палітыкі. Бо палітыка, асабліва сённяшняя, не дазваляе аб'ектыўна ацэньваць творчасць. Бачачы яе, усюдыісную і непазбежную, хочацца расчуліцца і дараваць усё. І тым не менш, бывае (нават сёння), што яна ўсяго толькі фон, які падкрэслівае нешта важнае і спрадвечнае.

Дакументальны фільм Дзённік Анастасіі распавядае пра беларускую мастачку Анастасію Рыдлеўскую, якая была вымушана з'ехаць з Беларусі ў Гданьск. Палітыка тут - фон, які мігціць за шыбамі і раз за разам выпучвае сваю жудасную галаву, але палітыка - гэта яшчэ і тое, што мастачка мусіць пераадолець, каб захаваць сябе і свой талант. Але, на жаль, не толькі палітыку, бо тут і схільнасць да самагубства, нанясенне сабе шкоды і псіхічныя праблемы. А яшчэ - адданасць і любоў яе мужа, які захоўвае малюнкі і выявы Анастасіі на сваёй скуры.

Анастасія - гэта, канешне, сімвал беларускай рэчаіснасці. Беларускай эміграцыі, унутранай і знешняй. І яшчэ яна сімвал сённяшняга беларускага мастацтва. Шчырага і сапраўднага, якое прадзіраецца скрозь траўму і боль... Так цяжка, і так захапляльна, глядзець у яе вочы. 

Фільм. "II" (2019) / Улада Сянькова.

У фільме "II" Улады Сяньковай амаль няма мабільных тэлефонаў. А калі яны і з'яўляюцца, то мімаходам, і выконваюць выключна дэкаратыўную функцыю. Ніхто не гуляе пад партай, ніхто не здымае булінг, ніхто не аблягчае час чакання ў школьным калідоры. У нейкі момант мне нават падалося, што я трапіў у дзевяностыя ці пачатак нулявых, у тыя змрочныя часы, якія зафіксавала аднойчы Валерыя Гай Германіка. У тыя часы, калі падлеткі курылі і займаліся сэксам.  

Але ж мабільныя тэлефоны дрэнна ўжываюцца з сэксам (можа, аднойчы нехта зробіць навуковае даследаванне), і таму цалкам зразумела, што падлеткі ў гэтым фільме выглядаюць крыху старамодна. Бо фільм пра сэкс і пра сэксуальнасць.

"II" - гэта сучаснае беларускае ігравое кіно. Калі казаць шчыра, то рэдкая з'ява, якую хочацца ведаць і крыху пераацэньваць. Наста - дзяўчына са стрыжнем, які паўстае ў поўны рост у самай першай сцэне фільма. Дарэчы, выдатнай. Сяброўка робіць тэст на цяжарнасць (на ўроку ангельскай мове, калі ж яшчэ?), і гэта заўважае завуч школы. Сяброўка паспешліва кладзе бумажку ў рот, але завуч просіць выплюнуць і аддаць ёй. Наста адзіная, хто кідае выклік гэтай добра знаёмай кожнаму з нас жанчыне, якая не мае пачуцця гумару, але якая ўвасабляе ўсю праведнасць педагагічнага працэсу. У нейкі момант завуч хоча выгнаць Насту з аўдыторыі, але аднекуль з'яўляецца малады настаўнік ангельскай мове, які вырашае сітуацыю. Сцэна сапраўды выдатная, бо добра задае тон фільму, а таксама стварае няяснае напружанне, сэнс якога мы зразумеем толькі пазней. 

Акрамя сяброўкі (якая шмат размаўляе пра сэкс і праводзіць палову фільма ў пацалунках са сваім хлопцам), у Насты ёсць таксама і лепшы сябар Саша. Саша - гей, над якім здзекуюцца ў школе, з якім Наста ходзіць у кіно, якога яна абараняе ад нападак, і з якім ездзіць на электрычцы да рэпетытара польскай мовы. Жыццё Насты адбываецца ў правінцыйным беларускім горадзе, які не патрабуе ніякай назвы ці асаблівага вылучэння. Ён проста фон, абалонка для жыцця некалькіх беларускіх падлеткаў. 

Інтэр'еры, як і твары, вельмі пазнавальныя. Таксама як і мільён дэталяў, якія цалкам адпавядаюць рэчаіснасці (ці маім успамінам пра яе). Але ж я сапраўды пазнаю гэтых настаўнікаў з іх размовамі пра карысныя лекавыя травы, гэтыя дакорлівыя позіркі ў аптэцы, а таксама дэпрэсіўную плітку ў ваннай. У гісторыі, тым часам, робіцца моцны выбух, які (на час ці назаўсёды) зменіць кожнага персанажа. Гэта цалкам непрадказальны паварот, магчымасць якога можна было прадчуваць толькі праз ледзь чутныя намёкі, якія прыадкрываюць нябачныя трэшчыны ў брані галоўнай гераіні. Дарэчы, менавіта ў гэты момант робіцца цалкам зразумелым сэнс назвы фільма.

Больш за ўсё гэта кіно кранае сваім апошнім актам, які імкнецца вырашыць, ці хаця б растлумачыць, наступствы гэтага выбуху. Сярод апошніх эпізодаў вылучаецца, напрыклад, сцэна размовы маці са сваім сынам, калі яна хоча запытаць, але не можа, а ён можа растлумачыць, але не хоча. Падаецца, што ў гэтай сцэне (напрыканцы якой хочацца смяяцца самым чорным смехам) змяшчаецца ўся квінтэссэнцыя канфлікта не толькі паміж пакаленнямі, але і ўнутры яго. Бо разуменне, гэтая незагойная мэта кожнага чалавека, з'яўляецца толькі ў самым апошнім кадры - змацоўваным кароткім жэстам і гукам цягніка.

Фільм кароткі, і гэта дазваляе яму трымаць у напружанні на працягу ўсіх 60 хвілін. Маладыя акцёры іграюць добра, амаль не перабольшваюць, а ў нейкія моманты нават дасягаюць сцэн прыгожай недагаворанасці. Так, ёсць моманты, калі я пачынаю думаць пра важнасць фільма больш (сучасны беларускі фільм, кіно пра падлеткавую сэксуальнасць у сучаснай Беларусі), чым я думаю пра яго мастацкую вартасць. І так, некаторыя рысы занадта грубыя, а некаторыя сцэны пакутуюць ад абагульненняў, але і праз некалькі дзён фільм застаецца са мной. Бо Улада Сянькова стварае пераканаўчы свет, абстрактны, але цалкам верагодны, і персанажы ў яе жывыя і маюць колер і пах. Нават калі і не ўжываюць мабільных тэлефонаў.  

Three films. Beasts, Close, One Fine Morning.

These three films from 2022 are united by the French language. In The Beasts, it is a language that exists alongside Galician and Spanish. In Close, it is occasionally interrupted by Dutch. In One Fine Morning, it is pretty much the only thing that you hear. I am not going to say that French is what makes these films great - but I am not avert to that idea, either. These is some of the best cinema of 2022. 

The Beasts (2022)

God what a chilling, nerve-wrecking experience this film is. The Beasts is what you would call a countryside thriller. A middle-aged French couple moves to a village in Galicia to grow and sell eco-friendly vegetables. They used to live in France (Antoine is a former teacher) but they are now seeking to be close to nature and to lead a simpler life. If that sounds idyllic, wait till you start watching this film. The Beasts thrives on tension.

The problem is that the local people are not exactly happy to see the intruders. Two brothers in particular take active dislike to Antoine due to the fact that the latter blocked the deal involving the sale of land to a wind farm (the deal would prove lucrative to the few village inhabitants). Things turn from tense to downright ugly with inevitability and in disgusting slow-motion. There is vague abuse, there are direct insults. There are scenes in the local bar where the atmosphere could be sliced with a knife. At some point, Antoine and his wife discover that their tomato harvest has been spoiled. From that point on, Antoine takes a camera and starts shooting the abuse he is getting from the brothers and showing the videos to local police who remain passive and largely disinterested.

The tension just builds and builds until you can barely take it anymore. And yet, oddly, you cannot look away. The film is harrowing, hypnotic, and utterly compelling. The fact that it is loosely based on real events is frankly disconcerting.

Close (2022)

If Quiet Girl was my favourite coming-of-age film of 2022 (if not, in fact, my favourite film of 2022), then Close takes the second place. When it comes to portraying teenage friendship and pressures of growing up, the film gets so many things right that I felt a personal connection. Even the details; when the boys are playacting an attack from an imaginary army of brutal enemies, it takes me back a million years.

The two boys are Léo and Rémi, and they are friends. Close, intimate friends. They playact, they run through gorgeous flower fields in rural Belgium, they daydream and they even sleep together in the same bed. However, a moment comes (and it is usually but a moment) when things begin to change. A girl at school asks them a question: are you together, like, are you a couple? There is a barely perceptible ripple in the air ("No, of course, not!"), and a few awkward silences, and then a small rupture appears. The rupture grows in size, and then all of a sudden Léo wants to take up ice hockey and what is the point of riding to school together, anyway? It is all very uncomfortable, and heartbreaking, and all of sudden there is something terrible you will have to live with for the rest of your life.   

Close is also a very beautiful film. The aforementioned fields of Belgian flowers are breathtaking, but even they are merely a backdrop to the simple story that contains a bitter lesson. Ironically, it is a lesson you cannot really learn before the bell actually rings. 

One Fine Morning (2022)

Mia Hansen-Løve is hailed a genius by a great many credible film critics. To my shame, One Fine Morning was my first film by this French director, and I had clearly been missing out. I watched it late at night in a small hotel room, and it has stayed with me ever since. This is sensitive, sensual, powerful cinema.

The ever brilliant Léa Seydoux plays Sandra, a young widowed woman whose life is both hectic and incredibly stressful. She works as an interpreter and a translator (which is symbolic in the context of the film), she has to raise a daughter, her ageing father is suffering from neurodegenerative disease and her personal life is at worst nonexistent and at best deeply troublesome. The events are mostly centred around Sandra's father (formerly a renowned philosophy teacher) who keeps forgetting things and is in urgent need of a nursing home (distant echoes of Amour and The Father - but the film has a distinct voice of its own). Again, it is a simple story that contains lots of subtlety and substance (as well as a great deal of sex). To me, the film has many profound things to say about the interplay between reality, wishful thinking and pretence. And all that against the ravishing views of Paris (the film ends with a striking scene by the Basilica of Sacré-Cœur) and a song by Bill Fay.

One Fine Morning (actually a reference to the title of a possible biography by Sandra's father) is simply great French cinema. It is full of beautiful, complex characters who could speak about politics in a taxi car in a way that is no less stylish and alluring than a visit to the Musée d'Orsay.

Фільм. "ХРОНІКІ РТУЦІ" (2019) / Аляксандра Кулак.

З літаратурай усё проста. Бяры ды пішы. Раман, аповесць, апавяданне - усё, што заўгодна, былі б талент і крыху часу. Вядома, трэба яшчэ знайсці выдавецтва і надрукаваць свой твор, але нічога не перашкаджае творчаму працэсу. Нічога не паўстае паміж натхненнем і фізіялагічным задавальненнем ад апошняй кропкі. З музыкай цяжэй. Трэба купіць гітару альбо трамбон, трэба знайсці студыю, музыкаў і добрага прадзюсера - але ж і без трох апошніх умоваў можна ствараць музыку. Акорды вісяць на дрэвах. Было б жаданне. З кіно, на жаль, усё вельмі складана, бо тут мастак не належыць самому сабе. Не цалкам. Так, ёсць Мікіта Лаўрэцкі са сваім home-made кіно (пра якое гаворка пойдзе пазней), але ў большасці выпадкаў кіно - гэта спалучэнне людзей, грошай і збегу акалічнасцей. 

Таму з кіно ў нас цяжка. Асабліва з мастацкім, асабліва з якасным, асабліва з беларускамоўным. А сёння нават і з тым, што здымаецца ў Беларусі. З вышэйпералічанага фільм Аляксандры Кулак "Хронікі ртуці" адпавядае толькі адной умове: гэта выдатнае, сапраўды якаснае кіно. 

Фільм здымаўся ў Амерыцы, і распавядае пра закінутую частку Каліфорніі. Калісьці Новая Ідрыя была шахцёрскім гарадком, дзе здабывалі ртуць. Сёння (дзеянне фільма звязана з перыядам да і пасля выбрання Трампа, то бок з 2017 годам) насельніцтва Новай Ідрыі складаецца з двух чалавек, брата і сястры Кемп і Кейт Вудс. Калісьці Новая Ідрыя была горадам магчымасцяў, маленькім рухавіком амерыканскай мары. Сёння гэта горад-прывід, і мы сустракаем яго ў сумным, пакамечаным, занядбаным стане. Тым не менш, сярод пустэчы і неахайнай расліннасці па-ранейшаму тлее жыццё. Бо Кейт і Кемп жывуць - не існуюць, а менавіта жывуць. Яны бавяць час у Інтэрнэце, слухаюць джаз, заўзята размаўляюць пра космас, даглядаюць сабак і люта ненавідзяць рэспубліканцаў. 

Вось на гэтым супрацьпастаўленні змрочнага краявіда і нязгаснага жыцця і існуе гэты фільм. Ён трымае ў напружанні, у ім ёсць рух - і ў ім ёсць другі акт, павольны, эмацыйны і непазбежны. Гэта спалучэнне выдатнай працы рэжысёраў і прыцягальнай моцы характараў - тое, што галоўныя персанажы так зацягваюць не робячы, здаецца, нічога асаблівага. Ёсць у іх гэтая шчырасць, гэтая неўмяручая прага да жыцця, якое, дарэчы, паўстае тут у кожным кадры. Менавіта праз гэта я і абраў "Хронікі ртуці" для першага аповеду пра беларускае кіно. Бо калі казаць шчыра - то што ў ім беларускага (дарэчы, нават Кейт Вудс кажа пра Russkis са здымачнай групы)? Фільм на ангельскай мове, з субтытрамі на расейскай... І тым не менш - для мяне гэта фільм беларускай рэжысёркі. Я не бачыў яшчэ яе стужкі "Мара" пра падзеі 2020 года, але мне падаецца, што - свядома ці не - менавіта беларускі фон, з гэтымі страчанымі вёскамі і незагойнымі асяродкамі жыцця, дазволіў так дасканала і так дасціпна перадаць другі, і значна менш прывабны, бок амерыканскай мары.

Фільм зняты ў прыгожых, прыглушаных колерах - нібыта ў лёгкім тумане. Гэта не тая Каліфорнія, якая паўстае ў нашым уяўленні, калі мы думаем пра Галівуд ды Сан-Францыска. Але гэта таксама Каліфорнія - нават калі часам падаецца, што яна існуе ў нейкім паралельным сусвеце. Зразумела, што ў значнай ступені менавіта краявід сфармаваў Кейт і Кемпа Вудс - такіх сапраўдных і неідэальных. Тых, што не маюць дзяцей (бо як адважыцца нарадзіць дзяцей у гэты свет), вераць у НЛА (бо чаму не верыць) і шмат разважаюць пра смерць (бо яна паўсюль). Яны, дарэчы, і прыцягваюць нас сваёй неідэальнасцю і сваёй сапраўднасцю. А яшчы гэтымі вачыма, аднолькавымі і поўнымі нейкай змрочнай глыбіні.

Ртуць - гэта вадкі метал шэрага колеру. Ртуць, пара і злучэнні ртуці атрутныя. Назапашваюцца ў арганізме, пашкоджваюць нервовую сістэму і парушаюць абмен рэчываў. Ртуць - адзін з двух хімічных элементаў (і адзіны метал), простыя рэчывы якіх пры нармальных умовах знаходзяцца ў вадкім агрэгатным стане. У многіх краінах элементарная ртуць выкарыстоўваецца ў саматужнай і дробнамаштабнай здабычы золата. Ртуць змешваюць з золатазмяшчальнымі матэрыяламі, утвараючы ртутна-залатую амальгаму, якая затым награваецца, выпараючы ртуць, каб атрымаць золата.  

My Cultural Highlights: THE QUIET GIRL

How little you need to make a good film. Or how much. 

2022 was a great year for films set in Ireland. There was The Banshees of Inisherin that deserved all the praise that it got (and will keep getting, inevitably). There was The Wonder that was brilliant and bizarre in equal measure. And then there was The Quiet Girl.

Sometimes I think it is the best kind of cinema, the one where nothing happens. Because cinema has so much more than a plot to express itself: there is a silence, a melody, a sideways glance. The Quiet Girl employs all of that, and more. A nine-year-old girl, quiet, beautiful and unloved, goes to spend her summer with distant relatives, on an Irish farm in 1981. This being a classic coming-of-age story, the girl navigates her uncertain existence through love, death and a terrible secret. Mostly love. And through it all, she says so little. "So many people", muses one of the central characters, "lost the opportunity to say nothing". 

This being a classic coming-of-age story, the quiet girl changes. She does not become loud, or even louder, but little but little her silence is becoming weightier and more knowing. By the end of it, we have to wonder how much she has really changed. The true change, however, is always imperceptible, invisible to the naked eye. Which is not too easy to do within an art form whose main attribute is predominantly visual. The Quiet Girl manages to do that, still. The silent force of the film is in the detail, in the unspoken and in one of the most powerful endings I have seen in a while.

My favourite story from James Joyce's Dubliners has always been "Araby". It is a simple tale of a boy who wants to come to a fair and only manages to get there when the stands are closing and the darkness has set in. It is a story of low-key minimalism and yet it has always seemed gripping to me, and has never really failed to reduce me to the most basic emotional response. I have often wondered why. But then perhaps it is only the world which does not happen to you that is truly worth discovering.

Three films. Banshees, Fabelmans, Tár.

We are exactly one month away from this year's Oscars, and these may or may not be the most critically acclaimed films among Best Picture contenders. Are they good? They are, to various extent. 

Also, just to be clear on this. I found the first part of Avatar practically unwatchable due to the fact that the aesthetics seemed ugly and offensive. Blue people with tails just do not do it for me, I'm afraid, so there is no chance in hell I am going to sit through more than three hours of that thing. Under water, too. 

The Banshees of Inisherin (2022)

This, to me, is easily the best film of the year. It is not perfect but it is also the case of you realising that perfection is wrong, odd, and deceptive. 

The Banshees of Inisherin is a quintessentially Irish film, to the point where some of it may appear grotesque. There is that breathtaking scenery, that famous vulgarity residing side by side with timeless art, the dense accent that will force you to say 'feck it!' and resort to subtitles. Still, what a gripping story. Simple, minimalist and, again, quintessentially Irish. A lifelong friendship goes astray after Colm Doherty decides one day that he no longer wants speak to Pádraic Súilleabháin. Colm is a musician, he plays the fiddle, and he wants to aspire to a lot more than dull small talk over a pint of beer. 

This leads to a classic tragicomedy that could easily be imagined as a lost play by Samuel Beckett. There are painful moments of ball-breaking misery and then there are equally painful moments of awkward hilarity. Mostly, though, there are moments of magic, because the story hits you hard and the acting is ridiculously good (four actors from the film are nominated for the Academy Award). It is also remarkable that the 'events' are happening in the early 20s of the previous century, against the backdrop of the Irish Civil War, which obviously pushes the story into the complicated and highly dysfunctional realm of religion that is, inevitably, home to the best art coming from Ireland.

On a personal note. I was once on a day trip from Dublin to the Irish coast, to places similar to the ones portrayed in The Banshees of Inisherin. At some point, I got to the very edge of a cliff overlooking the Irish Sea, and precisely at that very moment a strong gust of wind hit me from all sides and almost blew me away into the abyss. I remember that a Polish tourist we were walking with threw himself down on the sharp stones while I was in some sort of stupor, very slow to react. The force of the wind moved me several inches closer to the edge. To this day, I find this to be the closest brush with death I have ever experienced. And to this day I thank those banshees standing over the stony cliffs of Ireland. They spell trouble - but they spared me that day. 

The Fabelmans (2022)

The Fabelmans is the sort of film I would recommend to anyone - because even if you hate the sentimentality (well, yes), if you cannot stand Seth Rogen (I sympathise - but he is harmless here) and find the whole thing overlong (again, I understand - the film goes on for two and a half hours), there are two cameos that will knock your socks off. One will appear in the middle of the film and the other at the very end. Those scenes are priceless, whatever you may think about the rest of the film.

And as a matter of fact, I happen to like the rest of The Fabelmans. It is Spielberg's most autobiographical film and it starts with Sammy going to the cinema and being fascinated by the famous train-wrecking scene from The Greatest Show On Earth. He then comes home and tries to recreate the scene on the model set he got for Hanukkah. He does that again and again, right until the moment his mother says he can just use a camera and capture those seconds for all eternity. Thus, the fascination with cinema begins. 

It is a beautiful story, beautifully told. There are problems in the family, school-bullying and antisemitism, first love and betrayal, and Spielberg as well as the screenwriter Tony Kushner do a great job of showing how each small step becomes a life lesson (art lesson, too). I did not like all of it (Jesus those 'Russian' scenes were cringe-worthy - and the audience in Warsaw went deadly quiet), but I left the cinema strangely elated. It is a film about art, a critic's wet dream, but it is infused with so much love and great writing that I ended up completely disarmed.  

Tár (2022)

Tár is a classic example of a work of art that is easy to admire but difficult to love. At times, the film feels like an intellectual game where you are given pieces of a complex jigsaw puzzle that you have to place at the right spot. Which is totally fine - in fact, I do not mind confusing films. It is confused films that I am not especially fond of. 

Cate Blanchett is, of course, mesmerising. She plays a world-famous conductor who has it all, fame and love and adoration and envy and everything in between. What she also has, however, is strong opinions and a penchant for favouritism. The former is manifested in an extended early scene where she confronts a young student who believes in social media and the moral right to cancel Bach, and the latter becomes the reason for her painful downfall when an aspiring young woman from Tár's past commits suicide. If that sounds complicated, it should. The film has a lot of themes: art versus life, cancel culture, bullying, power struggles... The problem is, I do not quite believe the film does anything particularly interesting with them. They just hang there at the end, loosely, and while no such thing as closure exists, the film does not really reach any artistically satisfying resolution.

Tár is verbose and pretentious (down to the vowel in the main character's name), but despite its many flaws - I still found it thrilling all the way through. Much of it is the sheer immensity of Blanchett's screen presence (the way she conducts is something else) and the intriguing plot. The latter may confuse you in places, and frustrate you at times, but the whirring sound in your brain will not stop for a second.