Reviews

'Holly' has a storyline which should be ideal for a gripping drama in the best Hollywood style. The film is about a shy, lonely girl whose life is turned upside down because of a coincidence. After she stays home on the day her school burns down, people around her start to think she has a special gift, and that she can make positive things happen.

But anyone who is familiar with Fien Troch's earlier films, knows that a simple straightforward drama is not her style. Troch uses an understated cinematographic language, in which implying is more important than spelling things out. She is not primarily concerned with the story itself, but rather with the way different characters react to things that happen to them. Apart from Holly herself, who is confused and insecure about how she is perceived by others, there are two other interesting characters: her teacher, who somehow hopes Holly can solve a major problem for her, and a classmate, who is also an outsider, just like Holly.

With 'Holly', Flemish film maker Fien Troch adds another film to her very distinctive filmography. The central theme in her films is the difficulty of understanding each other, and the way young people interact with adults. Her films have an unpolished, almost documentary feel, but they are made very carefully. Every scene has its place, and helps us to get to know the characters better.

Some viewers might be dissapointed that the film doesn't lead to some apotheosis. But this is consistent with Troch's way of making films. She doesn"t seem much concerned about what happens exactly and why, but rather by what her characters do and feel. After having seen the film, you are more concerned about Holly's well-being than about anything else.

'This is heavy', I heard the woman next to me whisper to her friend while watching 'When It Melts'. It is. At least, some of the scenes are. Director Veerle Baetens doesn't shy away from scenes that are painful to watch. She shows rather explicitly why Eva, the main character, is a traumatized young woman. And why she decides to turn the page of this trauma for once and for all.

The film switches between the present, showing how Eva plans to return from Brussels to the village where she grew up, and the past, showing the events leading to the traumatizing experience which has ruined her life. On her way to the village, she loads a large block of ice in her car. Gradually, as the movie advances, the audience gets clues about why she does that. But only in the last minutes, her ultimate plan is revealed.

This is not a film that lets the viewer read between the lines. Everything is made clear, at the end of the film there's nothing left unexplained. Some scenes could perhaps have been less explicit. It would have given the film a different feel. But even so, this is a very strong movie. The screenplay is exactly right, giving the right amount of information to move the plot forward without any distracting sidelines. The editing is also very tight, wich must not have been easy given the large amount of flashbacks. Teenage actress Rosa Marchant, who plays 13-year old Eva, got an award at Sundance for her excellent performance, but I was equally impressed by the understated way Charlotte De Bruyne plays the adult Eva, terribly hurt and full of anger, but showing it in a very subtle way.

The theme of the film is the difference between being a child and being a teenager, but it is not a coming of age story. It lacks the nostalgic view many directors have on being a teenager. It's a brutal film, more concerned with explaining what caused Eva's trauma than by highlighting typical teenage problems.

'When It Melts' is an adaptation of a 2016 novel by the same name, which was an absolute hit in the Belgian bestseller lists. Lots of moviegoers will undoubtedly have read the book, so they know the plot. The experience is better when you don't know what's coming, but even if you do the movie is certainly worth seeing.

Wars are mostly perceived as morally unambiguous. The Russians are the bad guys, the Ukrainians are the good ones. Before that, the communists were bad and the west was good. And before that, the Germans were the villains and the resistance fighters were the heroes.

In reality, it's not always clear cut. Who is bad and who is good is sometimes the result of mere circumstances. Of meeting certain people, of doing certain jobs. This is what the Flemish film 'Wil' is about. It shows how in Antwerp during the second World War, some people helped the Germans and the resistance fighters at the same time. Not because they couldn't decide what was morally wrong or right, but because circumstances forced them to, and because deep down, they preferred to stay on the sidelines.

Wil, the main character, is a low-ranking policeman in Antwerp who gets involved in an incident with a German officer. It can cost him his life. Most of the film shows how he tries to cope with this fact, and how people around him make various choices, thus influencing his own fate. The ending of the film is very dramatic, and illustrates how making moral choices differs from not doing that. Deciding not to stay on the sidelines can have an extreme impact.

The film is beautifully shot in dark, sombre colours, accentuating the difficulties of the war years. The acting is top notch, which shouldn't surprise because the cast consists of some of the best Flemish actors. This is a different kind of war movie, which inevitably makes every viewer wonder which choices he or she would have made. And to that question, there are no easy answers.

At least twice during this film, the director uses a bold and spectacular cinematographic gimmick. In the shots, lasting several minutes, the camera turns very slowly around in a 360-degree movement. These shots are almost mini-films within the film. In the second one, the camera captures a village wedding party, with musicians, dancers and children playing. Wonderful to look at.

There are more beautiful shots in the film. One shows a dead horse, slowly decaying in a series of identical shots, but filmed in different seasons. Has the director filmed the entire process during a full year? It's possible, there is enough space in the immense expanse of Iceland's remote wilderness.

Apart from the 19th century Danish priest who is the story's protagonist, the Icelandic landscape is really the most important element in the film. In the first part, there really isn't much else. After having arrived by ship, the priest travels on horseback through the barren landscape, accompanied by some taciturn Icelanders. When he arrives at a village in order to build a new church, the story concentrates on the tension between the Icelanders and the priest, who is not only seen as a representative of an oppressive country, but also seems ill-prepared for the physical challenges of the primitive Icelandic lifestyle.

In order to give this simple story an extra dimension, the priest is also a photographer, making portraits of the people he meets. In the 19th century, this was an elaborate process involving eggwhite and silver. The director wants us to believe it is the recent discovery of those photo's, which survived the centuries, that made him reconstruct the priest's journey.

For me, the film ticked several boxes. I have hiked through the Icelandic interior, and yes, the landscape really is amazing. I also like slow cinema, and this is very slow cinema. Thirdly, this film also contains some food for thought about religion. Officially, the Danish priest and the Icelandic villagers share the same religion, but the way they experience it couldn't be more different.

What if one of Harvey Weinstein's victims, unable to fend off her attacker, just shot him through the head? Would that count as self-defence? And how would the court case about this crime look like?

This is one way of interpreting 'Mon Crime', the delightful new film by François Ozon. The similarities are too obvious to ignore. It's about a young, attractive actress visiting a powerful film producer in order to get a part in a new film. But during the interview, the producer turns out to be a sexual predator. She admits to having killed him with his own gun. During the court case, she uses all her acting abilities to convince the jury of her innocence.

The funny thing is, this is not a serious analysis of power and gender, but a screwball comedy set in 1930's Paris. It's hilarious, it's stylish, and it's full of razor sharp references to the present. Ozon captures the 1930's style of film making perfectly, including the exaggerated acting, the witty dialogues, and the continuous plot twists, one even more improbable than the other.

It's clear that Ozon had lots of fun making this movie. He inserted small films-within-the film (in silent-movie style), he used marvellous 30s locations (I recognized the Villa Empain in Brussels), he casted Isabelle Hupert in one of the most memorable parts of the film, and he lets the jokes continue, even during the end credits.

This is not a cutting-edge film which will blow you away. But it's a perfectly made, very entertaining movie which doesn't have any weak moments.

When you consider this movie as a film about film making, one scene is more revealing than all the others. It's a scene which captures the essence of cinema in a simple conversation between the film maker (Sammy Fabelman) and his subject (a guy Sammy hates). 'Why did you film me this way?', the guy asks, implying he is not happy with the film. 'What way?', Sammy answers. 'I filmed what I saw'.

It proves that Sammy Fabelman has put an extra layer of meaning over the simple images. He filmed what he saw, but there's more to it than that. Of course, this shows how talented he is. Film making is exactly that: adding a meaning to images.

'The Fabelmans' is not a profound cinematographic document about the secret of succesful films. It's a personal movie about a family falling apart. Film, and what is captured on film, is an element of that process. But, knowing that Sammy Fabelman is Steven Spielberg, you can't help thinking about what Spielberg wants us to know about his style of film making. He shows how he learns to control every aspect of it, from coaching actors to using technical tricks, from finding good shot angles to smart editing. We see it all happening in 'The Fabelmans', right until the very last shot.

Apart from letting us learn a lot about Spielberg as a film maker, 'The Fabelmans' is also a nice coming-of-age movie. Of course, it helps that Spielberg's youth is a good story in itself, with enough drama, fun and emotion in it for 2,5 hours of entertainment. I can imagine that for a director, making a good film about your own family requires a completely different approach than making a good film about a giant shark or a friendly alien creature. But Spielberg has shown many times before how versatile he can be, and how he succeeds in different genres. This autobiograpical movie is once more a case in point.

In 'No Bears', Jafar Panahi plays a clever game with his viewers. We see a film about the making of a film. But is this film within the film really a film, or is it reality being filmed? It sounds terribly complicated, but it isn't.

Basically, 'No Bears' consists of two parallel stories, with Jafar Panahi, who plays himself, as connecting element. Panahi, who is not allowed to leave Iran, has rented a room in a tiny village close to the Turkish border. From there, he supervises the making of a film on the other side of the border. He tries to make internet connection with his crew, but the technology fails. No worries: his assistent can cross the border freely with a hard drive containing the rushes.

By coincidence, Panahi gets involved in a bitter conflict between two family clans in the village. This is the first story. It starts relatively calm with the request to erase a photo Panahi has made. The villagers are at first visibly embarassed to disturb their distinguished guest from Teheran. It is nice to see the contrast between the villagers, who live according to ancient traditions, and the sophisticated Panahi with his MacBook and modern cameras. The conflict gets more and more serious, and ends in a tragedy.

The controversial photo itself is never shown. Here, Panahi plays again with reality. The event he has photographed may or may not have happened. He never admits having taken the photo. What the villagers want, is the evidence of its existence, or non-existence. But how can you prove something doesn't exist?

The second story is the film Panahi is making, set in Turkey. It is about an Iranian couple trying to flee to Europe. But soon it appears that the movie doesn't follow a written script. The couple are not actors, but real life refugees, and the camera follows their attempts to get out of the country. Sometimes, the crew adresses Panahi directly through the camera. It seems the fourth wall is being broken, but at the same time it isn't because we are looking at the film within the film.

Both stories are about a couple in love, and both have unhappy endings. In one very unsettling scene, Panahi is accused by one of his 'actors' to adapt reality, in order to film a happy ending. This, of course, is exactly what film making is about. Panahi's decision to film not one, but two unhappy endings is probably inspired by the unhappy situation he himself and his country are in. Panahi has been harassed for years by the Iranian regime. He has recently been released from prison, after starting a hunger strike.

In spite of this, 'No Bears' is not a sombre movie. The events in the village are in a way very amusing and even funny. Panahi himself never loses his cool and confronts the villagers in his own way: with a camera.

The golden rule in cinema is 'Show, don't tell'. In films, images should tell the story, not dialogue. 'Aftersun' is a perfect example of how that's done. This film is good because of what we see, and what those images imply. The storyline itself is secondary.

In essence, 'Aftersun' consists of scenes during a summer holiday in a beach resort. Divorced father Calum has brought his eleven year old daughter Sophie, who lives with her mother. They're clearly having a good time swimming, relaxing, playing pool and participating in the occasional excursion. They're filming each other using a portable camera, and those images are part of what we see.

But underneath the joyful scenes of a happy child and a loving father, there is a sense of something more unpleasant going on. The more the film continues, the more the viewer gets the impression that something terrible can happen at any instant. We are used to films that spell things out pretty clearly. When we see a weapon, we know someone will get killed. When we see a boy and a girl smiling to each other, we know they will fall in love. It doesn't work that way in 'Aftersun'. I started to look for clues of a dramatic development, but it never came. The holiday comes to an end, and only the final scene suggests things that might have happened, and gives the film a different meaning.

'Aftersun' leaves much to the interpretation of the viewer. That can be frustrating or rewarding, depending on how you look at it. Director Charlotte Wells has taken the 'Show, don't tell'-strategy to its extreme: she tells us very little and shows us very much.

Apart from the deeper meaning that is hidden beneath the images of the happy holiday, the film is remarkable for its cinematographic approach. Images of holidays can be extremely boring, even more so when nothing spectacular happens, but in 'Aftersun' they have a wonderful, emotional quality. Also, the home movie footage is very cleverly used. In one scene, the images of the camcorder are displayed on the small television screen in the hotel room. When the camcorder is shut off, we see Sophie and her father reflected in the glass of te screen. In the last scene, the use of those different images is even more prominent.

Paul Mescal, who plays the father, is nominated for a 'best actor' Oscar. In a way, that doesn't really reflect what makes this film special. It's not only Mescal's acting, but rather the way in which ordinary, everyday events are made into a special story.

During the first minute of this film, Cate Blanchett shows what an extraordinary actress she is. Her character, star conductor Lydia Tár, is waiting to go onstage. There is no dialogue, only body language. But even without words, Blanchett shows what Tár thinks and feels.

Blanchett's remarkable performance is a large part of what makes this a good movie. But there's more. The very clever script gives us a lot to chew on afterards. Tár is a woman in the men-dominated world of classical music. She's not warm, empathic or even very sympathetic. In fact, she has many characteristics that are usually associated with men. She's vain, selfish and manipulative. And that's what gets her in trouble. At the start of the film, she seems to be one of the most admired women in the world. She is extremely famous and successful. At the end, everything has fallen apart.

The film doesn't judge. It leaves it up to the viewer to decide if Lydia Tár is a victim or a culprit. Or maybe both at the same time. The viewer gets a lot of information to make up his (or her) mind. Director Todd Field gives us the story elements slowly, bit by bit. Take the scene where Lydia Tár gives a stern speech to a young girl who bullies her daughter. It shows that she is used to getting everyone in line, according to her wishes. That's useful information to interpret things later on in the movie.

Tár is very much a modern movie. It has things to say about gender, about power, about social media, about being woke. But at the same time, it's a very old-fashioned movie. It takes its time. There are long scenes, and long takes. There's nothing modern in the way it is filmed. And that's a good thing.

In reality, the seemingly glamorous Empress Elisabeth of Austria, nicknamed Sissi, was an anorexic, chain smoking, heroin user with an anchor tattooed on her shoulder blade. At least, that's what this film suggests.

Or doesn't it? The film includes lots of hints about its lack of historical accuracy. The funniest are the songs made famous by Gladys Knight and Marianne Faithful, which are sung and played by 19th century court musicians. Also, I think Elisabeth giving her dinner party guests the finger is not exactly accurate. So, the tattoo is probably made up as well. And maybe the cigarettes and the heroin too. For your information: the anorexia is historically correct.

Never mind the historical accuracy, the film shows clearly that Elisabeth is lonely and unhappy. There is no love in her marriage with Emperor Franz-Joseph, so she has affairs, but those are also unsatisfactory. She is very fond of one of her court ladies, and even forbids her to marry. Which shows that Elisabeth is not only unhappy, but also very selfish. And perhaps, as we would say nowadays, mentally unstable. She pretends to faint during official happenings, cuts off her hair and takes her 10 year old daughter for a horseriding trip during the night.

The problem with this film is that you can't fully appreciate the fictional character Elisabeth whithout some minimal knowledge of the historical person Elisabeth. I googled her afterwards, and immediately many elements in the film made much more sense.

Anyhow, 'Corsage' is certainly a nice addition to the many films that have been made about Empress Elisabeth. I've never seen the Sissi-movies, but I wouldn't be surprised if Vicky Krieps's character in Corsage comes closer to the real Empress Elisabeth than Romy Schneider's version.

If the essence of cinema is to create a cinematic universe in which reality can be transformed, projected, enlarged or distorted, 'Avatar: The Way of Water' is a great success. After having seen the film, each viewer will understand that the story is about so much more than mankind destroying the beautiful planet Pandora and its friendly inhabitants, de Na'vi. Lots of hotly debated issues are part of the story. The message about ecological destruction is very clear, but the film also deals with the refugee problem, racism, the obsession with youth and health, religion, and the importance of the nuclear family. There's lots to talk about afterwards.

At the same time, this is a blockbuster movie, and providing entertainment has clearly been the first priority of the film makers. The messages are there for those who want to see them, but they are not in-your-face as they were in, for example 'Don't Look Up'. There are many magical moments in the movie, but other scenes made me cringe because of their simplicity or sentimentality. I also was a bit annoyed by the simple good versus bad theme that dominates the screenplay.

The movie is a showcase of the limitless possibilities offered by computer generated images. Many scenes are jaw-dropping. But at the same time, it struck me as too big, too exaggerated, too far removed from a simple, human scale. Only afterwards I realized that the teenage girl Kiri was played by 69 years old Sigourney Weaver. That's because I didn't see Weaver herself, I saw a computerized and distorted version of her.

So is this a great movie? Yes. Anyone watching it will be amazed, will have a great time and will have something to talk about afterwards. Did it dissapoint me? Also yes. Because it prefers to be spectacular instead of sophisticated.

It's not difficult to find some deeper meaning in The Banshees of Inisherin. The story of how two friends become bitter enemies, seemingly for no reason at all, has a universal quality to it. One of them, Colm, prefers silence over chatter, creativity over banality, and playing music over drinking beer. The other one, Padraic, doesn't understand why his friend decides to offend him by making these choices. He prefers kindness over everything else. It's radicalism against pragmatism.

If you look at it this way, the film is an allegory for the state of the world in 2023. Radicals are fighting pragmatists everywhere, from the US to Israel, and from Iran to Afghanistan. And the message of the film is clear: radicalism is a short cut to self harm. You'll understand it when you see the film.

You can have endless discussions after seeing this film, which is why it's such a good movie. But even better: you don't have to search for a deeper meaning to enjoy it. It's already brilliant as just a crazy story about two people on a remote island off the Irish coast.

The great thing about the movie is that it is hilarious at some points, but also very dramatic at other moments. It shares this quality with Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, the other masterpiece by director Martin McDonagh. The dialogue is very funny, but at the same time this is not an outright comedy, not even a black one. The script is a classic drama, with a good narrative arc and perfectly developed characters. There's no good versus bad in this film. Viewers can sympathize with both characters, because there's something to say for each of their arguments.

And then there's one other great thing about the movie: the location. The isolated island and its tightly knit community, where the men gossip at the pub and the women at the grocery store, is a crucial element to the story. But it also adds a layer of pure beauty. The landscapes are nothing less than breathtaking.

This is film making as it should be: a good story, great actors and strong direction. Just leave it to Martin McDonagh to deliver.

Felix Van Groeningen, the director of The Eight Mountains, was born and raised in an area that's as flat as a pancake. I know, because I live there. There are no mountains in Flanders.

Maybe it takes a flatlander like Van Groeningen to really appreciate the beauty of mountains. His film starts with magnificent images of the Italian Alps, the area where The Eight Mountains takes place. In fact, the whole movie seems to be an ode to the beauty of the mountains. The vistas from the highest summits and the calm of a mountain lake: the images are magnificent.

And so is the story of the two friends, who both love those mountains. As a child, city dweller Pietro befriends Bruno, who lives in a small mountain village. Their friendship continues when they are adults. The film shows how they both try to shape their lives, each in their own way. Both are drawn to the mountains, but in different ways.

Van Groeningen, together with his wife Charlotte Vandermeersch, has made a beautiful and poetic movie about the friendship between Bruno and Pietro. The two men don't show their emotions easily, and the film doesn't aim for easy effects either. In an understated, subtle way, the movie shows how their lives divert, but remain connected through their mutual love for the mountains. It's well directed, well acted and beautifully filmed. This film will find a natural audience: the readers of Paolo Cognetti's bestseller it's based on. But those who haven't read the book might also be fascinated by the friendship between Pietro and Bruno.

For a long time, 'Jeanne Dielman' lingered in the lower regions of my 'must see'-film list. A classic, yes, praised by many, but to be honest, I wasn't really looking forward to the experience. A film about a housewife peeling potatoes and doing the dishes? Let's put it this way: there were always films that needed to be seen more urgently.

But the news that Sight & Sound considers this to be the best film ever, meant that I couldn't postpone seeing 'Jeanne Dielman' any longer. I felt the need to see it for myself. Is it the masterpiece so many critics think it is, or rather a pretentious, joyless arthouse experiment?

Now that I've seen it, I think it is neither. It is, above all, very special. Many viewers may find this film too slow. Yes, it is extremely slow. This is not slow cinema, this is snail's pace cinema. But that is exactly the quality of it. Seeing the main character peeling potatoes or making coffee has a zen-like feeling to it that you find in very few other films. It's so slow, that it's almost the cinematic equivalent of meditating. While watching the potato peeling going on, you notice little things you wouldn't have noticed in films at a faster pace.

But it's not only the slow rhythm that makes this film very special. It's also the camera. It never moves. And I mean never. Not one instant. It would be interesting to kow if director Chantal Akerman has been influenced by Yasujiro Ozu, for whom the static camera has become a trademark. There are other Ozu-like elements in 'Jeanne Dielman', for instance the camera filming a room a few seconds before the characters enter it, and after they have left it. Moreover, Akerman uses a limited number of camera angles in the apartment where most of the film takes place. Gradually, the viewer gets to know every corner of it, every piece of furniture, and every picture on the wall. After a while, it feels as if you're at home with Jeanne Dielman.

And then there's the question what te film is about. It's about gender relations, it's about motherhood, it's about sex (yes, apart from a housewife Jeanne is also a sex worker), it's about regret, it's about boredom, it's about life and also, in the end, about death. So yes, it's quite fascinating. I kept on watching, amazed by the cinematographic radicalism. And I was never bored.

Is this the best film ever made? I don't think so. It's too unorthodox, too much an outlier in the cinematographic universe. In order to be the best film ever, it should have more qualities than just being different. Is it worth seeing? If you like something special, it certainly is.

This film was made four years ago, but the war in Ukraine has given it a new urgency. At the time of its original release, the conflict in eastern Ukraine was not high on the world's priority list. Because of the Russian agression, this film has been released again. A good thing, because not only the current affairs are a reason to go see this movie. It is a very good film in its own right.

It consists of short vignettes, loosely related, some surreal, some very shocking, and some even funny. The central theme in each of them is the absurdity of the situation in the Donbass region. I write situation, because what the film shows is not an outright war. Corruption, abuse of power and lawlessness are as much a problem as violence.

Sometimes the scenes are reminiscent of the films by Roy Andersson, the Swedish master of minimalist absurdism. But there are also Fellini-like situations, with over-the-top characters contrasting the bleak reality of every day life in an occupied territory. Apart from the originality, two other things really stand out: the acting and the cinematography. Some of the scenes look like mini-documentaries, not at all like scripted movie scenes. Romanian cinematographer Oleg Mutu shows how effective very long takes can be, sometimes with a camera on the shoulder, sometimes without any camera movement. The very last scene consists of one single, extended shot. It is a master class in understated film making.

Aah, the pleasures of traveling by long distance train! Admiring the scenery from the compartment window, enjoying nice meals in the restaurant car, and dozing off at night to the clickety-click sound of the wheels.

Everybody who once took a long distance sleeper knows the reality is different. Those people will enjoy this film. One of the drawbacks of international trains is the company in the compartment to which you have been assigned. Finnish student Laura has bad luck, having to share hers with a drunken Russian miner who asks without much ado if she is a prostitute.

During the long ride from Moscow to the northern city of Murmansk the two travel companions get to know each other better, and even learn to appreciate each other. This sounds a bit cheesy, but it isn't. Laura is dissapointed and lonely: her lover couldn't accompany her on the trip and reacts coolly to her phone calls. When, during a long stopover, she has to choose between the company of her rude but adventurous travel companion or no company at all, the choice is a no-brainer.

An extra attraction is that the movie takes place in the not-so distant past. It is the pre-internet era of pay phones and Walkmans. This is no major issue in the film, but it explains why Laura takes the train instead of flying.

There's a bit of 'Lost in Translation' in this film, a bit of 'Before Sunrise' and a bit of 'Ma nuit chez Maude'. Plus: it's Russia, so everything is nicely rough-edged and vodka-soaked. Na zdorovie!

Righteousness, fate and revenge are the themes of this film. This sounds spectacular, but 'The Card Counter' is not an action packed thriller. Rather, it is an introspective movie, delving into the psychological motivations of the protagonists.

The only action scenes are short flashbacks of the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq. Oscar Isaac plays William, one of the soldiers involved in the crimes committed there. Afterwards, he has spent many years in military prison for his misbehaviour, while the officer who gave the orders was not punished because he worked for a private contractor.

William has become a man without emotions, leading a solitary and anonymous life, and earning his money as a card player in casinos. By coincidence, an encounter with the son of another soldier revives the memories of the war. He sets out a plan to deal with the consequences of the past.

The film's setting fits its theme. Most scenes take place in the anonymous, drab and interchangeable interors of casinos and motels, populated by unusual and sometimes weird characters. William doesn't seem to have a home or a family. He behaves like a man who has seen everything and doesn't really care. The encounter seems to change that: after all, he does care about people.

The slow succession of events leads to an unexpected and bitter ending, but the beautiful last image of two fingers almost touching each other suggest that, after all, something has changed in William's life.

It was philosopher Hannah Arendt who wrote about the 'banality of evil': those who commit the cruelest acts can be the most ordinary human beings. This is impressively shown in the first chapter of 'There is no evil'. A perfectly ordinary man drives home, parks his car, helps his neighbour, showers, watches television, picks up his wife and daughter, goes shopping, etcetera. When he drives off to work the next day, he hesitates when the traffic light turns green. In the final moments of the episode, the viewer understand why. The shocking last scene turns everything that came before upside down. This is film making at its best.

The other three episodes deal, in different ways, with the same issue: capital punishment. Director Rasoulof is not interested in legal dilemmas surrounding the death penalty, he only shows the consequences it can have. He focuses not on the question if capital punishment can be justified, but on the moral difficulties of those who keep the system running, or who are forced to do that.

The four episodes are quite different. The second one feels like a thriller, the third one like a romance and the fourth like a mystery story. Sometimes the death penalty issue is presented at the start of the episode, sometimes it is only revealed at the end. The four episodes have in common that they are expertly and beautifully filmed. Rasoulof's style is understated and I think most western film makers wouldn't be able to show this much restraint, when dealing with a subject such as this.

The fact that Rasoulof has been convicted for making this film, adds an extra dimension to it. But apart from the political importance, in its own right this is a showpiece of cinematographic craftsmanship. Once again an example of superb Iranian film making.

It's hard to imagine, but yes, it's a fact: pinball machines were once illegal in the US. In California, they were legalized in 1974. This is one of the historic events featured in 'Licorice Pizza'. The oil crisis, the introduction of the waterbed and Jon Peters dating Barbra Streisand are other events giving this movie its typical seventies feel. And, of course the clothes, the hairdos, and the cars.

This is a period picture, but there's more to it than that. It's also a romantic, funny and sometimes weird film. You have to get used to the strange mix of elements and the lack of a real plot. At first, it's not quite clear what the movie is about or what it's trying to say. But halfway, it becomes clear that it's just about things happening to the two protagonists. During the whole film, they are hesitating to be a couple. One is Gary, a big talking, pimpled teenage actor who tries his luck in public relations, selling waterbeds, promoting a local politician and running a pinball saloon. This unusual character starts trying to date Alana, an ordinary young woman, ten years his senior but lacking his self-consciousness.

Together, they start a waterbed selling company, leading to some hilarious situations, and highlighting life in star-filled Los Angeles. But apart from the period factor and the unusual story, it's really the cinematography that stands out in this film. Paul Thomas Anderson amazes with his beautiful shots, often from unusual angles, through windows or mirrors, lighting out objects or persons. Just notice the way the light glides over Alana during a split second when she enters the bar for a first date with Gary. Anderson often films things from a distance, also showing elements in the foreground and background.

After seeing this film, I still don't know what a licorice pizza is. But that's all right. Lots of things in this film are unusual in a pleasant way, and this is one of them. And if you wonder, after having seen the film, if Intercourse really is a village in Pennsylvania: yes, it is.

"Enjoy life, without the stress of living". With this slogan the telecom firm Bash tries to sell new software to its customers. Yes, its a funny line, but unfortunately it's one of the very few times I had to smile during 'Don't Look Up'.

It's a pity, because the premise of 'Don't Look Up' is perfect for a satirical movie. A huge comet is on a collission course with planet Earth, and the impact is 6 months from now. The similarities with climate warming are clear: politicians refuse to listen to scientists and concerned citizens. But the urgence of the message doesn't make the film any better.

The film is a satirical take on almost everything that goes wrong in the US. Ignorant politicians, corporate lobbying, distrust in science, dominance of social media, stupid talk show hosts, celebrity culture, you name it. The film makes quite a few interesting points about the dangers of populism and modern media culture. That's the good news. The bad news is that the film makers are so eager to get their point across, that it's almost annoying.

Satire is a very difficult genre. A well made satirical movie finds a subtle balance between poking fun with the powers that be, and delivering a message about things going wrong.

In 'Don't Look Up', the balance is gone. The parts that are meant to be funny are too outrageous, and the message is too loud and too clear. This doesn't mean the film is a complete failure. I enjoyed watching it, because the story is so over the top, and the film never slows down. But overall, it could have been better when the film makers would have chosen a more subtle approach. Also, lead actors Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence are not really well suited for satirical roles. On the other hand, I enjoyed Jonah Hill. He is hilarious as the chief-of-staff and son of the president.

Only at the end there is a good part in the film, when the population gets divided between those who look up towards the 'planet killing' comet, and those who don't, because they are denying the danger. They identify themselves with buttons showing arrows pointing upwards and downwards. This segment contains some really funny parts, but it is already too late to save the film. Although I must say: the epilogue, after the credits, is worth waiting for.

In cinema, there is usually a clear division between the bad guys and the good guys. The viewer identifies with the former, and dislikes the latter. This is easy for the audience and for the film maker.

But Asghar Farhadi is known for not taking the easy way. In 'A Hero', the good guy can turn out to be bad after all, and vice versa. Or, more accurately, the division between good and bad is blurred. Everyone has good intentions, but sometimes they come out bad.

This is why Farhadi is one of the greatest contemporary film makers. His films deal with moral issues, just as people in the real world do. His characters are complex, like we alle are. There are no easy solutions to the problems, just as in real life.

'A Hero' tells the story of an ordinary man who gets involved in a situation he no longer controls. He is perceived as a hero because he returned a bag with valuables to its owner, but when his story is doubted, fate turns against him. The situation becomes complex, more and more people get involved and there is gradually more at stake as the story unfolds.

The screenplay of this film is perfect. Every details has a meaning somewhere in the story. Things are not spelled out, but nothing is left vague. The beauty is also that this is a circular story, with an end that is the opposite of the beginning. The very last scene is wonderful in its simplicity and understated meaning.

With this film, Farhadi shows us also what life is like in modern Iran. It's not a political film and the story is rather universal, but several elements can be perceived as critical for Iranian society. The 'hero' is jailed for an unpaid debt, which is something we don't do in western countries. He has to keep his relationship with his girlfriend a secret, because they are not married yet. Another character had to spend his daughter's dowry, and we see her as an unmarried woman, living with her father.

For me 'A Hero' is one of the best films I've seen this year and also one of the best films Farhadi has made. A perfectly told story, which keeps on offering new elements to evaluate reality - that is what film making should be all about.

This is really a very remarkable film. Exploring the group dynamics of school children, director Laura Wandel has taken the radical choice of positioning her camera at children's height, registering only what children see. Adults are reduced to supporting roles, and they are only visible when they occupy themselves directly with Nora, the heroine of Un Monde, played amazingly by 9 year old Maya Vanderbeque.

Not only the way Wandel shows us what children see makes this film special. The script is also very clever in explaining how the mechanics of bullying can really make young children desperate, and how it is almost impossible to find a solution using adult logic. It is almost a cliché to say that children can be very cruel, but this film shows why and how it happens.

The almost documentary filming style, with lots of close-ups, is impressive. In one crucial scene, the camera focuses for several mintues on Nora's face, while she registers what's going on around her. The viewer hears what she hears, but sees only her face. The result is spectacular.

This film can easily stand next to the other great documentary-style film about school life, 'Entre les murs'. That film was nominated for an Oscar. 'Un Monde' is the Belgian entry for the Oscar race. It deserves at least a nomination.

Most directors reach a peak somewhere during their career. Their films stop improving from then on. The remarkable thing with Pedro Almodovar is that, at 72, he still doesn't seem to have reached his peak. The older he gets, the more intense and pure his films become.

In 'Madres Paralelas', all the usual Almodovar ingredients are blended together exquisitely. An unorthodox story about women and motherhood, superb acting from Penelope Cruz, tasteful clothing and interiors, beautiful cinematography and intelligent dialogues with surprising twists. But this time, Almodovar adds a little extra: a subtle attack on the right-leaning political parties in Spain. The former prime minister Mariano Rajoy is even mentioned, which seems at odds with the fact that Almodovars cinematographic universe is usually uncoupled from modern day issues.

The point Almodovar wants to make about Spain, is intelligently integrated into the story. It is about death, war and coping with past sins. The contrast with the other themes in the film is striking: we see Cruz, and the other parallel mother Milena Smit, involved in childbirth, friendship and rethinking their future lives.

A nice characteristic of this film is that it's all about women designing their own lives. Which is a nice change: most films are male-centred. The only male character of any importance is subject to the whims of women. In one funny moment, he tells Cruz that he wants to have a child with her, but not yet. To which she replies that it doesn't really matter, because the unborn baby is already there.

'Madres Paralelas' is a relatively unspectacular film, because in consists mostly of people talking, reacting to each other and showing their emotions. But it takes extraordinary directing skills to make such a film, and fascinate audiences by it. This is one of those films that are just very good, because they are made by an experienced craftsman who knows what he's doing.

Sex. Religion. Power. With these three ingredients in a movie, you can't go wrong. In 'Benedetta', the combination is the basis for a compelling story. Pretending to be miraculously blessed by God, the nun Benedetta starts a ruthless power struggle in her convent, meanwhile not holding back in fulfilling her carnal desires.

Instead of turning his attention on the person Benedetta, her motives and her psychology, director Paul Verhoeven takes the easy road. He is much more interested in her body than her mind. Female nudity is abundant and most of the nuns are pretty and sensual. There is also a lot of violence, because Benedetta has disturbing dreams and visions, resulting in some scenes that are completely over the top. The much written-about dildo, made out of a small statue of the virgin Mary, makes one doubt how seriously the film should be taken. Verhoeven doesn't miss any opportunity to please a thrill-seeking audience, instead of challenging his viewers. The story contains interesting elements, worth exploring, such as the contrast between Benedetta, who is well educated, and her lover Bartolomea, a peasant girl who can't read or write. But the only thing Verhoeven focuses on, is their mutual sexual attraction.

Don't get me wrong. Benedetta is a very entertaining film. It is exciting from start to finish and doesn't contain any dull moment. This is a film made by a craftsman who knows how to please an audience. But personally, I think the story could have been dealt with in a different way. Verhoeven's film is a succession of spectacular events, filmed in a spectacular way. I would have liked it more if it had been a bit less explicit, and more understated. But of course, understatement has never been one of Verhoeven's strong points.

"The Blue Girl" starts with a great scene. Somewhere in a remote village in the Kurdish mountains, a small boy is performing tricks with a football. The villagers are cheering and applauding while he tries to equal the famous performances of Diego Maradona. But after a while, a villager pushes him aside because his cows are passing through.

Unfortunately, the rest of the film is less impressive. The story of village children working hard to create a level football playing field in the mountainous area is nice. The film is full of old fashioned optimism: everyone is smiling, cooperating, being nice to each other and having a good time. But this is also the weak point: the positive vibes are a bit too much, and the story is bit too thin. The beautiful mountains and the colourful villagers are nice, but not enough to carry the film.

There is a bit of social criticism: the girls are not allowed to play football, although they want to. This could have been a nice storyline to give the screenplay some depth, but the writers didn't use it. A pity, because some plot development would have been very useful to lift the film from the level of a simple children's story. Maybe the maker didn't have more in mind. But in that case, he should have made a short film instead of a full-length feature.