Reviews

The opening scenes of "Godless" are truly captivating, with well-chosen angles and visually appealing aesthetics. However, as the plot progresses, the script, direction, and editing begin to decline. Superfluous scenes accumulate, neglecting central characters in favor of parallel plots that only prolong the narrative without contributing significantly.

Another downside is the frequent use of handheld cameras, which make the images slightly shaky, compromising the visual quality of the miniseries in some shots and conveying a sense of amateurism.

In a scene where Sheriff Bill McNue faces some troublemakers, he demonstrates a certain ineptitude and a slight trace of cowardice. However, the same sheriff, when seen in a flashback about Alice Fletcher's past, reveals himself to be fearless and skilled marksman, rescuing Alice from imminent danger posed by savages.

In the last episode, the biggest flaws of the screenplay conceived by Scott Frank stand out. For example, in the confrontation between the Griffin gang and the ex-black soldiers, the abundance of cuts confuses the viewer, making it difficult to identify the shooters. Right after, the clash between the Griffin gang and the women of La Belle is another tumultuous sequence, full of cuts that obscure the action and make it difficult to understand who is attacking whom. Furthermore, the decisions and solutions to the conflict seem simplistic and poorly executed, undermining the credibility of this action-packed finale.

In the final showdown between Frank Griffin and Roy Goode, the former dies and the latter is seriously injured, passing out after the confrontation. However, the narrative does not adequately clarify the subsequent timeframe, leaving doubts about Roy's quick recovery, who appears healthy after being shot by Griffin. In one of the final scenes, we see the burial of Whitey Winn, whose name is mentioned by the sheriff in his farewell sermon. However, the inclusion of this isolated burial, without context for other victims of the confrontation, seems arbitrary and unnecessary, suggesting a lack of narrative cohesion. It would be more consistent to show the burial of all victims, not just a secondary character.

Ironically, even though the screenplay is the crucial point of any film, it was weakened in "Godless". Interestingly, despite this, Scott Frank's work was nominated for the Emmy Award for Outstanding Writing for a Limited Series, Movie, or Dramatic Special, as well as for the Writers Guild of America Award in the category of Best Long Form - Original Writing. However, the series did not win in any of these awards, and it would have been absurd if it had won.

In summary, "Godless," in its opening, promised to be a beautiful spectacle of the western genre, but Scott Frank's inconsistent screenplay and direction fail to sustain it throughout its episodes, leaving the feeling that it could have been much better. I felt like I wasted my time that could have been better spent.

In this beautiful film by Martin Scorsese, we delve into the story of Ernest Burkhart (DiCaprio), a World War I veteran who allies himself with his uncle William Hale (De Niro), setting off an intricate game of interests. Hale, self-proclaimed "King," sees in Ernest the key to consolidating wealth in his family. The plot unfolds, revealing a complex relationship between Ernest and Mollie (Gladstone), one of the Osage sisters who holds vast fortune.

The film stands out for its atmosphere laden with apprehension, immersing Mollie in justified paranoia, where trusting white people becomes an impossibility. The narrative highlights Ernest's moral fragility, portrayed masterfully by DiCaprio, while William Hale weaves a web of endless deaths. Mollie, personifying personal tragedy and the victims of genocide, emerges as the emotional epicenter.

A misstep manifests in the casting of Lily Gladstone for the role of Mollie Kyle. Unknown to me, this actress, despite being acclaimed by most critics, did not effectively convey the sorrows experienced by Mollie in my perception. I consider it an error her nomination for the Best Actress Oscar for this role; her victory was considered certain, but she was rightfully defeated by Emma Stone. Furthermore, her beautiful face starkly contrasts with the ugliness of the real Mollie. Compounding the issue, the age disparity, with Lily being 12 years younger than DiCaprio, contrasts with historical reality, where Mollie was six years older than Ernest.

The screenplay not only shines through its captivating plot but above all by the respectful and genuine way it approaches the cultural richness of the Osage people. The eminent director, renowned for his fascination with diverse cultures, dedicated himself to close collaboration with members of the tribe. Scorsese not only positions these tribe members in front of the cameras but also integrates them backstage, promoting genuine and enriching collaboration. This commitment aimed to ensure that the representation of their history and beliefs would shine through with accuracy and reverence. In this sense, the work is not just a cinematic account but a delicate tapestry woven with threads of authenticity and respect, where every detail reflects the filmmaker's dedication to narrative fidelity.

Scorsese, with his singular ability, distances himself from any judgment or prejudice, revealing the people's beliefs in an authentic and reverent manner. A poignant example of this respectful approach is his portrayal of the owl, a sacred creature in Osage culture. Often associated with death and the spiritual realm, Scorsese seamlessly intertwines this conviction into the film's plot.

At the 44-minute mark, one of the most sublime moments of the film unfolds: Byron Burkhart, Ernest's brother, rises from an outdoor bed and enters the house. The camera, flowing without cuts, follows Byron, keeping him off-screen as it traverses various rooms until stopping in front of Lizzie Q, Mollie's mother. Only at this moment does a cut occur, revealing a window. It is there that an owl appears and perches, then leaps into the room and flies towards the camera, occupying the entire screen. In this exquisite cinematic passage, Scorsese not only narrates but transcends, weaving an engaging visual narrative that celebrates the spiritual richness of Osage culture. Every camera movement, every subtle transition, culminates in this masterful moment where the owl, a revered symbol, assumes its importance in the narrative, adding a layer of meaning that resonates beyond the screen.

Mollie stands out not only as a central figure but also as a symbol encompassing profound dimensions within the plot. The dramatic epicenter of the narrative is the love story between her and Ernest. This romance delineates Mollie's emotional journey in grappling with the magnitude of events. Gradually, she also comes to understand the role played by her husband in the destruction of her family.

The plot unveils intricate layers of the human psyche, showing how Mollie reacts to devastating circumstances. She personifies the victims of the genocide systematically perpetrated by white settlers against the Osage, standing out as a symbol of suffering, especially within the context of her own family. The narrative goes beyond, unmasking the supposedly peaceful and well-intentioned facade of white men, notably Ernest and his uncle Hale, and revealing an underlying diabolical process.

Mollie's story transcends not only her personal journey but also reflects the shared fate of many other genocide victims. The film thus rises above mere entertainment, evolving into a significant platform for reflection on profound social issues such as genocide, racial prejudice, and the persistent systematic dehumanization in contemporary society.

Exploring his distinctive technique of alternating between narrators, the director leaves a unique mark on the screenplay, providing the opportunity for a character, at a singular moment, to detail their meticulous strategy and the feelings involved in carrying out an evil deed. Narrative mastery is further revealed when the chronology of the story is occasionally disrupted, transporting viewers to specific events, such as the shocking murder of one of the sisters. This method not only adds complexity to the plot but also intensifies the coldness and cruelty of the act, introducing extra dimensions of horror to the narrative, broadening its scope.

By adopting this non-linear approach, the filmmaker constructs a narrative that transcends mere event recounting, evolving into a profound exploration of the human psyche under extreme circumstances. The alternation of perspectives allows the audience to understand not only the events themselves but also the motives and emotional complexities driving the characters' actions.

Furthermore, the screenplay cleverly utilizes the technique to create constant suspense, keeping viewers on the edge of their seats, eager to discover the next unfolding of this intricate plot. Immersion into the characters' minds, guided by the unconventional narrative, transforms the cinematic experience into an emotionally engaging and intellectually stimulating journey.

In summary, Martin Scorsese's unique approach in "Killers of the Flower Moon," through the alternation of narrators and breaking of linearity, not only enriches the narrative with emotional depth but also intensifies the complexity of the events portrayed. The courageous exploration of violence and its consequences proves to be a cinematic masterpiece that challenges conventions, leaving an indelible mark on the viewer's mind.

Exploring themes of significant historical and social importance, the film reveals remarkable coherence in its narrative, introducing a memorable scene in cinema. In this context, a documentary references the impactful massacre of Tulsa, a dark episode that spanned two days, witnessing the brutality of a crowd of racists against the Black population of an urban district. The result was devastating, with hundreds of fatalities and thousands injured, sadly reflecting historical neglect.

As is characteristic of his approach, Martin Scorsese does not hesitate to depict violence in an explicit manner, when necessary for the verisimilitude and impact of the narrative. The brutality inflicted upon the members of the Osage community is presented without filters, revealing the animalistic nature of the perpetrators and the dark depths of the plot. Scorsese's skillful direction not only exposes the physical horrors but also delves into the emotional and social repercussions unleashed by these cruel acts.

The filmmaker strategically employs plongée angles, seeking to highlight the vulnerability of the Osage and provide a deeper impact on the viewer. Scorsese, also an admirer of contra plongée angles, makes a notable mistake in a crucial scene: near the end, Ernest, recently arrested and committed to the authorities, is forced to stand before them. This is a slip from the experienced filmmaker, considering that Ernest is in a submissive position, knowing deep down that he will be judged and condemned for his crimes. Thus, it would be more appropriate to employ the plongée angle to highlight the protagonist's situation before the authorities. The choice of contra plongée, while resulting in a beautiful shot, serves to emphasize a situation that does not align with the narrative reality. This is evidence that even an experienced and talented filmmaker like Scorsese is not exempt from making mistakes.

Upon concluding the film, Scorsese adds a touch of authenticity by presenting the title initially in Osage language characters. This gesture not only lends tangible authenticity to the narrative but also represents a reverent homage to Osage culture, giving it the deserved spotlight in the cinematic scene and solidifying the importance of this work as a respectful and careful testament to the cultural and spiritual riches of the Osage.

Ultimately, "Killers of the Flower Moon" emerges as a masterpiece of contemporary cinema, transcending the boundaries of entertainment to become a powerful platform for reflection and awareness. Under Martin Scorsese's skillful direction, the narrative unfolds, revealing complex layers of human drama and exploring profound issues of justice, prejudice, and revenge. With stunning cinematography, exceptional performances, and an engaging screenplay, the film captures the essence of the Osage genocide, rescuing the memory of the victims and providing a moving tribute to the resilience of the Osage people.

"Millennium: The Girl in the Spider's Web" of 2018, directed by Fede Alvarez, is a bold attempt to expand the universe already established by Stieg Larsson's literary saga. However, while the film offers moments of adrenaline and a competent performance by Claire Foy as Lisbeth Salander, some significant flaws compromise its narrative cohesion.

**Positive Aspects:**

Claire Foy's Performance: Foy delivers a convincing performance as Lisbeth Salander, capturing her emotional complexity and intellectual prowess. Her portrayal of the talented hacker is one of the film's main strengths, standing out for her ability to convey both vulnerability and fierceness.

Action Sequences: The film features electrifying and well-choreographed action sequences, particularly the street and road chases. However, fight scenes suffer from excessive cuts, making it difficult to understand what is happening. A notable example occurs in the final scene, where the dim lighting and frenetic editing hinder the visualization of the confrontations.

Relevant Themes: The film addresses pertinent issues such as information manipulation in the digital age, abuse of power by governments, and the pursuit of justice for victims of crimes. These themes add depth to the plot and offer important reflections on contemporary society.

**Negative Aspects:**

Screenplay: The film's screenplay is inconsistent at times, resulting in a confusing and underdeveloped plot. The narrative lacks cohesion and fails to maintain the viewer's interest throughout the story.

Character Development: Some secondary characters, such as Lisbeth's sister, Camilla, do not receive adequate attention, compromising the complexity and emotional impact of the story.

Lack of Originality: The plot follows a familiar formula of suspense and espionage, without offering innovative elements to differentiate it from other genre productions.

Throughout the plot, more than once Lisbeth could have been killed, but her enemies prefer to leave her unconscious. This narrative choice is understandable, as killing Lisbeth too early would end the film abruptly. However, it is at the climax of the film, during the peak of the confrontations, that finally a character decides to kill Lisbeth. Yet, once again, she narrowly escapes death. This scene, in which Lisbeth nearly suffocates, adds an extra element of tension to the unfolding of the plot.

While the film may not reach the same level of tension and depth as the original books, it still provides an exciting experience for fans of the Millennium series and espionage enthusiasts. However, for viewers less familiar with cutting-edge technology, some scenes may seem implausible, such as Lisbeth's hacking feats throughout the film, not limited to a crucial chase scene where she hacks and triggers the airbag of the pursued car, but also involving other characters. In summary, "Millennium: The Girl in the Spider's Web" is a worthy addition to the saga, with a Lisbeth Salander who continues to intrigue with her courage and intelligence. If you enjoy mysteries, action, and a fearless protagonist, this film is definitely worth watching.

"The Sniper" (1952), directed by Edward Dmytryk and produced by Stanley Kramer, emerges as a cinematic work that, although not reaching the heights of a masterpiece, offers an intriguing exploration of the depths of the human mind. With a moderate plot and moderately constructed characters, the film delves into the dark recesses of the psyche of Eddie Miller, portrayed by Arthur Franz, a deliveryman tormented by a sickening hatred for women.

The narrative plunges into the depths of Miller's psychosis, whose exacerbated resentment is triggered by an uncontrollable attraction to unattainable women. For him, the female presence is a personal affront, a wound that festers in his tormented soul. His torment reaches its peak when women are seen near significant figures, further inflaming his suppressed fury.

The anguishing symbolism is tangible when Miller, in an act of desperation, burns his own hand on an electric stove, a gesture marked by physical pain that echoes his inner turmoil. Subsequent medical negligence, by failing to follow through on the diagnosis of psychological assistance, only adds layers of tension to the narrative, foreshadowing the tragic unfolding yet to come.

The protagonist's rise as a precision shooter, armed with an M1A1 carbine, unleashes a series of brutal murders of women, perpetrated from a distance. Each shot is a distorted manifestation of his own anguish and despair. In a desperate attempt to be apprehended, he sends an anonymous note to the police, pleading for his own arrest, as the bodies continue to accumulate.

The introduction of Dr. James Kent, a psychiatrist, provides insights into the tormented Miller's diseased mind. Kent stands out among the authorities as the only one to understand that criminals like Miller require urgent and prolonged treatment. Simply arresting Miller is not enough, as another psychopath soon emerges to take the previous criminal's place, bringing new concerns for the authorities and fear to the population.

The film's conclusion surprises by deviating from typical genre conventions. Instead of a violent climax, we are confronted with a more subtle resolution, open to interpretation, as it shows a close-up of Miller's face with a solitary tear rolling down his cheek, challenging the viewer's expectations and offering a penetrating reflection on human nature.

It is worth noting that "The Sniper" marks Edward Dmytryk's triumphant return to directing after facing the shadows of Hollywood's blacklist and imprisonment for contempt of Congress. His mise-en-scène in weaving an engaging narrative, albeit hampered by Arthur Franz's hammy acting, is evident in every scene, guiding the viewer through a labyrinth of emotions and revelations. An example of Dmytryk's talent occurs in a seemingly mundane scene where a woman is seen collecting laundry from a clothesline; upon removing the last garment, the presence of an armed police officer, watching from the neighboring rooftops, is revealed.

However, it is important to recognize that the choice of Arthur Franz as the protagonist must be considered a serious and detrimental error to the film. His portrayal of the tormented killer Eddie Miller lacks the necessary brilliance to elevate the film. His dominating presence in the scenes undermines any attempt by the director or screenwriters to illustrate the criminal's psyche, leaving the viewer disappointed with the scenes depicted on screen.

In summary, "The Sniper", with its runtime of just 88 minutes, falls short of being considered a masterpiece of film noir. With its modest narrative and routine performances, the film may still find a special place in the memory of less demanding cinephiles or enthusiasts of the genre.

"Gone with the Wind" is a cinematic landmark that transcends generations, with its production permeated by challenges, careful choices, and a legendary cast. The film, based on Margaret Mitchell's novel of the same name, has been a cultural phenomenon since its release in 1939. Its journey from conception to public exhibition is filled with fascinating details, revealing the behind-the-scenes of creating a cinematic masterpiece.

David O. Selznick, the visionary producer behind Selznick International, aimed to restore his family's prestige in the film industry after the bankruptcy of Select Pictures. His approach involved adapting successful literary works for the screen, and acquiring the rights to "Gone with the Wind" proved to be a strategic move that paid off.

The casting process was meticulous, reflecting Selznick's determination to find the ideal performers to bring the iconic characters to life. From the search for the protagonist, Scarlett O'Hara, to the casting of Rhett Butler and Melanie, each role underwent intense deliberation and numerous auditions. Vivien Leigh's selection to portray Scarlett O'Hara became legendary, marking the beginning of a stellar career.

The film's direction also went through various hands, with directors such as George Cukor, Victor Fleming, and Sam Wood contributing to different parts of the production. Each brought their unique vision to the project, shaping the final result and facing challenges along the way.

Filming was a colossal undertaking, with grand scenes like the burning of Atlanta carefully planned and executed. The pioneering use of Technicolor technology gave the film a vibrant color palette, elevating it to visually stunning heights.

Max Steiner's soundtrack was a crucial piece of the narrative, providing an emotional and intense atmosphere that perfectly complemented the scenes and dialogue. The decision to include Rhett Butler's famous closing line, despite censorship objections, underscored Selznick's determination to preserve the film's artistic integrity.

Despite all production efforts, the film has two significant flaws: 1) The colossal mistake of casting Leslie Howard as Ashley Wilkes, as the actor had limited dramatic resources that undermined every scene in which Wilkes appeared; 2) At the end of the film, a child dies, and the excessive crying made the film overly sentimental.

The premiere of "Gone with the Wind" was an event of epic proportions, with premieres held in Riverside, California, and Atlanta, Georgia, which became a true festival in honor of the film. The audience's enthusiasm and critical acclaim solidified the film's status as an instant classic.

In summary, "Gone with the Wind" is not just a film but a cinematic masterpiece that captures the essence of the Southern saga with unmatched skill and beauty. Its legacy endures to this day, inspiring generations of filmmakers and audiences worldwide.