Bugonia

Obviously a completely different experience if you've already seen Jang Joon-hwan's Save the Green Planet!, director Yorgos Lanthimos' Bugonia is then, under those circumstances, transformed into a feature-length query. Are these filmmakers prepared to go quite as far as Jang's film did? As before, Bugonia details the kidnapping and torture of a pharmaceutical executive by a mentally ill conspiracy theorist who harbours a grudge that is rooted in the experimental treatments that have placed his mother in an unending coma. Aside from the minutiae of this global subjugation, as espoused by Jesse Plemons' apiarist turned abductor Teddy Gatz, the biggest point of departure in this telling is the amount of time and space apportioned to the chained-up CEO, played here by the Academy Award winning Emma Stone. In this Lanthimos telling, written by Will Tracy, Stone's Michelle Fuller is a much more magnetic and conniving presence than her South Korean predecessor - Baek Yoon-sik's much more conspicuously reptilian Kang. Perhaps this decision to give over so much more of this film's focus to Fuller unbalances the overall piece? 

Certainly, the extra layer of context provided by the Bugonia's closing minutes are jealously guarded; a pointed refusal to allow the audience's perspective or expectation to truly align with Teddy's paranoid outlook. Stone, a gifted physical comedian, plays Fuller as irritating and disingenuous but never quite odious or even, really, gloating. Her attempts to reason with her kidnappers may be communicated in the patronising double-speak of American office culture but even this achingly neutral invective signals an attempt to reassume the upper hand she expects rather than outright offend. Stone's performance is such that Fuller could be an extraterrestrial, or a robot, or even just a sociopathic businesswoman attempting to navigate the violent moods of the unwashed chuckleheads who have locked her in their basement. Stone's innate ability to confer depth on her CEO, and the fact that she plays a certain kind of melancholy in the decision that closes Bugonia, actually ends up framing this remake in much more alien and nihilistic terms. As cinematographer Robbie Ryan's camera glides over beatific images of extinction, rather than the tiny fragments of happiness that closed Save the Green Planet!, it's Fuller's sadness and thwarted sense of ambition that we the audience (including any potential Oscar voters catching up with their screeners) are being asked to consider. 

Angine de Poitrine - Sarniezz (Live)

Landcross by by びー (@samhoshi7)

Daughter - Not Enough

Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance

Viewed in the afterglow of last year's No Other Choice, writer-director Park Chan-wook (Lee Jae-soon, Lee Moo-young and Lee Yong-jong are credited as co-writers)'s earlier, 2002 film Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance seems oddly familiar. Although Mr. Vengeance was retroactively positioned as the first instalment in director Park's vengeance trilogy, none of this film's participants exhibit the well-drilled expertise seen in either Oldboy or Sympathy for Lady Vengeance. Instead, you discover that No Other Choice is the closer relative, with both pieces betraying a similarly grim fascination with the trials and tribulations of fairly normal people pressed to pursue a ferocious and, at times, darkly comic kind of criminality. Shin Ha-kyun's Ryu, a deaf-mute who finds himself out of work with a terminally sick sister to fend for is uniquely unsuitable for this new career trajectory. Alarmingly naive, even childlike, in his dealings with a gang of ruthless organ traffickers who pocket both his severance pay out and one of his kidneys, an increasingly desperate Ryu is then pressured into an ethical kidnapping by his girlfriend, played by Bae Doona, as a way of making up for their monetary shortfall. 

The ten million won idea being that since they won't mistreat the child they abduct then there can be no lasting ill-feeling or trauma for any of the participants. Obviously, this fantasy quickly falls apart in the face of brutal reality. Mr. Vengeance, photographed by Kim Byung-il, lacks the luxurious, lace bow touch of its vengeance trilogy stablemates, often reading - in terms of set-ups and the visual contrasts therein - as a particularly despairing kind of comedy. The tragedies that unravel here are excruciating, both in strict, blood-curdling event and the ways in which these horrors are all, plainly, preventable. There's a real boldness in the very deliberate decision to spend so much time in the company of Shin's Ryu rather than focus solely on Song Kang-ho's righteously savage father. Like the character Shin played in Save the Green Planet!, Ryu is uniquely alienated and disconnected from both his surroundings and the audience that are sat observing him. His deafness and inability to communicate vocally, coupled with his participation in Park's carefully arranged catastrophes, creates an innate and uncomfortable tension. Although sympathies do largely align with the film's bereaved parent, Mr. Vengeance refuses to portray Ryu as an evil monster to be vanquished at the story's climax. He's a vulnerable person, chewed up by an uncaring money-hungry system, who is ill-suited to navigate the life-or-death schemes he has blundered into. 

Viagra Boys - Therapy II

Mitski - I'll Change for You

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple

The second part of a planned trilogy, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, from director Nia DaCosta and screenwriter Alex Garland, arrives hot on the heels of its predecessor, 28 Years Later, forgoing the customary leap forward in time to stay settled-in with the cast of characters that were introduced in this previous instalment. We are, very briefly, presented with a small, croft settlement of brand new survivors at one point but these creeping foragers scarcely amount to much more than superficially detailed victims for Jack O'Connell's devil-worshipping Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal, and his mob of track-suited tearaways, to brutalise. The Bone Temple then isn't particularly interested in these kinds of perspectives - the barely sketched people who allow the filmmakers to burn minutes in repose while offering up a repetitive sense of discovery. And why would you be, when you have Ralph Fiennes on call as the iodine-stained Dr. Kelson? 

The interlaced inferno of 28 Days Later flash froze a specific moment of post-millennium anxiety, one that prodded at that era's mounting sense of horror that the endless prosperity predicted in the 1990s might not, actually, materialise. That, in actual fact, the human race was becoming unstuck and reverting back to patterns of behaviour that are more outwardly violent and base. The rage virus that galloped through these British isles brought that country to a screeching halt, trapping its surviving citizens inside a pantomime performance anchored to the thoughts and feeling of a receding century. The United Kingdom was, essentially, pickled. So, not only does O'Connells' cult leader behave like some nightmarish recollection of a disgraced light entertainment personality but cottage-dwelling fathers dote on their children, singing lullabies about a world in which fascism has, definitively, been vanquished forever. Their world may have collapsed in on itself but, barring any contradictory transmissions beamed in from the outside world, somehow the UK's immolation seems to have righted the sinking ship that we, in reality, have all found ourselves on. 

These strange, nostalgic pangs for the comfort and certainty promised by history's end extends to the aforementioned GP, a job role that is itself now a deliberately diminished position within modern, British communities. Kelson, unburdened by the slashed funding of austerity or orders to direct the sick and needy to privatised care, is patient and delicate in his dealings with the damaged people that come before him. He sits with them and listens, getting to know them and tailoring his therapies to the individual rather than fobbing them off with a one-size-fits-all treatment path. His serene, non-judgmental demeanor is itself a potent tonic; enough to dispel all manner of simmering anger. Unusually then, Bone Temple rejects any of the fantastical underpinnings of this specific zombie virus to examine how a valorous doctor might attempt to provide treatment for such unapologetic, mutative violence. Danny Boyle's first instalment may have ended on the promise of bewigged nutters somersaulting over the camera in a Super Sentai flurry - a mode of action that, funnily enough, the much younger DaCosta has no interest in replicating here - but this Bone Temple is instead a sort of inverse of Aleksei German's Hard to be a God. Specifically, a film premised on the idea that a knowledgeable man steeped in (now) deeply foreign art and technologies can be a force for radical change in this sunken world. 

Iron Maiden - The Number of the Beast

Eagle No. 279 by José Ortiz

Duran Duran - Ordinary World

Spider-Man by Sal Buscema

Paul McCartney - Take It Away

About a Place in the Kinki Region

It probably sounds absurd to describe a film in which terrified journalists are visited by their bleeding, mutilated doppelgangers as cosy but writer-director Kōji Shiraishi's About a Place in the Kinki Region is so steeped in curated creepiness and abandoned, old-world rhythms that it cannot help but evoke these strange notes of comfort. When a writer for the Japanese equivalent of Fortean Times goes missing with an important deadline looming, freelancer and friend to the departed Chihiro, played by former pop idol Miho Kanno, is brought in to complete the ailing magazine's centrepiece feature. This salvage job demands Chihiro sink into a well-stocked basement and rummage through notes and dusty physical media, each containing fragments of apparently unconnected paranormal phenomena. Cinematographer Futa Takagi's camera then returning, again and again, to beatific images of CD-Rs adorned with post-it notes and VHS tapes that clatter into video cassette recorders connected to rolling, blue screens. In an era of algorithms and high-definition streaming, where all the world's horrors feel so close and instantly (or unwittingly) attainable, that these short, eerie episodes - the viewing of which accounts for a significant portion of this film's first half - are physically constrained and therefore denied that kind of free-flowing accessibility actually feels unusually comforting. This case unravels in such a way that our snooping leads have to deliberately access each individual breadcrumb if they are to advance to the next stage of this haunting, implicating and endangering themselves by the specific act of trying to understand any overarching objective. With that in mind, Kanno's Chihiro is the perfect character to centre this kind of story around - a fearless reporter who is not only unusually determined to see this story through but behaves as if she is, actually, completely immune. 

MidPoint - Time

The Olympians - Strawberry Kiwi

Red Sonja

Although executed as a feature film, director MJ Bassett and screenwriter Tasha Huo's take on Roy Thomas and Barry Windsor-Smith's Red Sonja plays like a couple of episodes of mini-series television stapled together. A midpoint break, in which Matilda Lutz's horse-girl turned gladiator strikes a status quo altering blow against a slave master, played by a gleeful Robert Sheehan, feels oddly conclusive, as if the film had suddenly come to an end fifty minutes sooner than expected. This conceptual or structural oddness crops up elsewhere in the film too. Rhona Mitra's Petra, an old hand within the film's arena setting (a position that reflects the actress's familiarity with the action-fantasy genre) is very quickly organised away from the mentor role she seems primed to fulfil. A move that, if anything, underlines the human wastefulness that really should be associated with something as terrible, but reflexively deployed in sword and sandal films, as big screen bloodsport. Elsewhere, an injury suffered by Sonja - before she's had a chance to vanquish her foes - registers as grievous and alarming, rather than simply the kind of wound that forestalls climax. This note perhaps sharpened by Lutz's presence, an actress who, in Coralie Fargeat's Revenge, was subjected to all manner of grisly and sustained abrasion. In comparison to its Brigitte Nielsen starring predecessor, this Red Sonja suffers and thrives in opposite ways then. The production looks distinctly underfunded, especially when compared to the cut-rate opulence provided by Danilo Donati in the mid-1980s but, while Nielsen was eclipsed by her Austrian co-star, this red-headed barbarian is only ever upstaged by infrequent appearances from an extremely well-trained stallion named Vihur. 

Kim Gordon - Not Today

Madara 1000 - ıןןosıouǝ dǝɹɟɟǝʇɐ

Optimus Prime by Daniel Warren Johnson