With my recent shift in jobs, I’m still driving a school bus, and still driving for a private school (which, for my American friends, means religious/faith based school here in Manitoba). These things are the same.
I have seen a very real shifts though in location and the students. I have shifted from a rural setting to the city, and from most to not all Christian kids from a uniform background to driving a busload consisting of no less than 10 different ethnic backgrounds and 7 different religious expressions.
Which has been really interesting for me. Given that it is a private school, there is a certain degree of freedom I have in discussing matters of religion and faith that I wouldn’t have elswhere, only in this case I find myself engaging with a very real diversity of opinions and convictions and perspectives. I’ve been really appreciating learning from them while also challenging myself to think about the universality of such discussions and concerns. I’ve also been struck by how the students are not afraid to talk about religion at all. In fact, they seem genuinely interested in it.
This past week one such subject was the idea of heaven, or eternity. Strictly speaking, it’s a topic that requires some imagination, as we don’t really have good language for it. I was curious to see how this subject might translate in the midst of the diversity of those imaginations that make up my busload. Here there is both overlap and specific departures, but all pointing in a similar way to the problem of death.
Usng my own imagination, I might begin with this simple observation. I thought about how we experience time from a finite perspective. So much so that it is common to think in terms of borrowed time, or the concept of making the best of the little time we have. This is the language that we have. Time begins. Time ends. And we experience this in the space between birth and death. To begin to imagine a universe with no beginning or no end, scientifically, philosophically or religiously, is a bit of an impossibility, because we don’t have language for it. It’s not something our brains can comprehend.
And yet, at the same time, if we compare an era when life expectancy was 40 with an era when life expectancy is 80, we can see how easily we shift our value systems accordingly to fit the potentiality that this given life span represents. We don’t decry that added 40 years, we shift our expectations of what a good life is. We see anything less than that expectant life span as lost potential and, on some level, a tragedy. Thus, it would seem natural to at least consider that our tendency to make finiteness a value in and if itself perhaps should be given pause. If 80 years is our present reality, it seems reasonable to conclude that it’s, at the very most, a contextualized reality.
This is one part of the equation. The other part of the equation relates to the quality of a life. It’s one thing to talk about length of years, It’s another thing to talk about the quality of those years. The reason we know the language of finiteness is because we experience decay, suffering and death. This is, then, the measure of a life according to our potential. The potential becomes the value. But what happens when we shift this measure from matters of quantity to the question of quality. What kind of life do we experience in the in-between space, and how does this become a measure of our value. Here things become far more complex.
In some sense, it is the collison point between expected life span and the quality of our experience that informs the push and pull of these values. This is how we arrive at the concept of potential as the driving value system that governs existence. Potential is driven by norms, and norms require context. Context is shaped by our experiences of the present. Thus, if experiencing finiteness as a measure of 80 years with a plethora of medicines, practices and tools that can alleviate sickness and suffering is our context, and this context has been normalized by our culture, then potential becomes an incredibly fluid and malleable notion. Especially when you begin to apply these norms to contexts that are not our own. This brings up numerous questions: 1. At what point do we deem the notion of our potential to have been exhausted? 2. How do we measure what we might call unrealized or unreached potential? Do we imagine this potential to have limits? 3. Is something like suffering deemed to be an enemy of potential only within the parameters of our constructed norms, or is it deemed simply to be an enemy of potential and thus something that needs to be done away with? The same question could apply to death. When we think of unrealized potential, do we imagine this only reaching so far? What is the aim of progress in this regard? 4. Can our concern for the present ever be detached from our assumptions about this unrealized potential?
Here is the thing. The language of finiteness depends on our experience of suffering, decay and death. This is what defines our reality as a “kind” of reality (one which experiences suffering, decay and death). All discussions of potential are held captive not onjy to this reality, but our context. Time as we know it exists only because of the existence of suffering, death and decay.
At the same time, life is defined by its potential. This potential exists in opposition to suffering, decay and death, even as it is also held captive by it. This becomes the working tension that we carry forward into discussions of the eternal or the infinite. In truth, and this is something that philosophy can demonstrate, for as long as our reality is defined by suffering, decay and death it cannot speak the language of eternal or infinite. It can only broaden the parameters, and as I reasoned above, there is no reason to believe that such broadening has a limit. To speak in terms of the eternal and the infinite requires one to imagine a different kind of reality altogether, one that requires a different language to be expressed. One defined by the absence of death.
If this is all true, then I think we can see how the language of finitensss tells us two essential things; First, death, suffering, and decay is in fact an enemy of life, not its definition. Second, the fact that we think in terms of potential tells us that in some way, shape or form, we understand that finiteness is not our primary language. We may have lost our mother tongue, but it nevertheless is still present in the ways that life continues to exist in opposition to death. Finiteness is not a value, it is a problem that needs a solution. The real awareness emerges when we consider that finiteness is not a problem that can ever be solved by simply broadening our parameters. We need a different reality to break in and not only transform our thinking and our language, but to redefine and change our experience. To give us a different context through which to measure the notion of potential.
The irony of the present controversy regarding the filmmaker’s public admission over using AI, which is seen as an issue because of the way the question of AI has shaped the most recent strikes in Hollywood, is that this controversy exists over a film that is arguably about our ability to know what is real and what is not.
I don’t know. I get the larger issue. I get the role we as viewers play in terms of support. I also get our role as viewers play in supporting indie projects like this. To suggest this is morally complex, or morally ambiguous territory would be to understate the matter. However, simply taking the film for what it is, it’s also kind of interesting that the whole controversy adds some subversive subtext to the viewing experience.
Controversy aside, Late Night with the Devil is a uniquely imagined, and imaginative, journey into a bygone world, one where late night shows were event t.v., and where the late night wars were as real as the ripped jeans and tshirts that made up most of our wardrobe. The way the film brings this period to light was very well done, written into the practical set designs (more irony noted) in a way that accentuates the films creativity.
I loved the way the whole story was constructed to. We are being told the story through narration, which brings us through an opening 20 or so minutes which set the stage for the real concern- this particular episode of our main characters late night show, played to pitch perfect perfection by Jack Delroy, made in the midst of ratings concerns. What unfolds over the rest of the film is the unaired episode.
I did find myself wondering at points over the course of this film, whether the story actually ends up getting too complex for it’s own good. The set up I mentioned above seems simple enough. Where it goes with the story reaches much bigger and broader than that simple construct, offering layers of commentary on a few intersecting ideas. But then I found myself still ruminating over those complexities after I got home. This is where my appreciation for its thematic presence really started to grow, touching on everything from the wrestling with faith and doubt, exploring the nature of sin and its ability to colonize our lives, the trappings of capitalism, and even more intimate questions of identity and personhood.
Sure, its possible to experience and enjoy this simply on the level of a good horror film. Here I also think it delivers. It’s not jump scares, its more of a psychological fear that drives this one, inviting us to give ourselves over to the idea of a world where competing spiritual forces are infact very real, and then testing the lines of our cynicism and our doubts, exploring when and how we want to take things seriously. Perhaps most profoundly, these things don’t manifest simply as spirits in our imagination, but in the very real ways we operate in our specific socio-political realities, and in our relationships. This is where the arc of our main character becomes to fascinating to watch.
So many things to ponder here and to experience and to mull over. And it struck some legitimate notes of terror for me, both as a horror and as a commentary. Love that it takes a some big, imaginative swings, and on such a small budget. The controversy will be what it will be, and this film even has an opportunity to say something real about that. As a film though, I thought this one was effective and impressive.
Film Journal 2024: Problemista Directed by Julio Torres
Impressive for the ways it celebrates the simple virtues of authenticity and creativity. It defies categories, telling its story in a way only it can. What makes this work as well as it does though is the ways the filmmaker actively invites us as viewers into the process. It never operates at our expense, but rather seems to want us as viewers to find our place in the unconventional nature of its storytelling approach, offering us real moments of relatability and humanity amidst the experimentation. The real world issues it is exploring never feel clouded or lost, but rather they given a fresh, and often fun lens for us to see them through.
For a film that is about immigration and the challenges of the American capitalist agenda, there is something powerfully endearing about this films ability to the simple art of being human. It is the developing relationship between the two main characters that becomes the films heart and soul, with the social and economic concerns functioning as the contextual backdrop, and on this front the film offers an unexpected emotional punch. It doesn’t just want a system challenged and/or deconstructed, it wants these humans to find healing and success. Watching them find this in each other, a most unlikely friendship and pairing, is the true joy of this story.
Reading Journal 2024: The Wood Between The Worlds: A Poetic Theology of the Cross Author: Brian Zahnd
Beauty Will Save The World might still be where one should begin when diving into Zahnd. I contend it is his strongest and most important effort, and captures the essential conviction and thesis that runs through his larger body of work. The Wood Between the Worlds is more narrowed and specific, but proves to be one of his richest efforts.
Driving the book is the question of how something horrific becomes a symbol of the redemptive, how death becomes life, how the horrific becomes beautiful. Many want to rush past the cross, or leave it behind, precisely because of the way the cross has been used and understood within theological traditions. Zahnd wants to stop, just for a second, take a breathe, and to leave space for the cross to speak on its terms. Not to reject or impose what we might feel uncomfortable with or confused by, but to allow the cross to speak through what he calls the use of a theopoetic lens, which the different chapters assume and employ.
The book has a kind of linear movement, taking us through history and speaking to the present. It also delves into the different theological discussions surrounding the cross, particularly where it has to do with notions of atonement. As he does this, he gently challenges specific expressions on all sides by applying a grace filled use of ideas, art, writers, films, thinkers, histories, images. He never wants us to settle, rather he wants us to consider, and then reconsider again. And to allow the Spirit the space to speak in community, in our differences. From a theopoetic perspective, the key to this is keeping Christ at the center, and since Christ is love, keeping love at the center. As he contends, the cross sits at the climax of Christ’s story, and it is here that all ideas and all histories intersect in the person and ministry of Jesus. To embrace beauty, we must embrace the cross. To embrace life we must embrace the death, to embrace redemption we must embrace the horrific.
Film Journal 2024: King Arthur Directed by Simon Cellan Jones
Simple, straightforward, perhaps a bit safe. When the formula works though, it works. And this true story ultimately manages to hit the right notes when it comes to its feel good, inspiring tale.
Film Journal 2024: Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire Directed by Gil Kenan
The follow up to Afterlife, and this is not something I thought I would be saying a few years ago, has big shoes to fill. One of the great, unexpected delights of Afterlife was its minimalist and intimate approach. It allowed the film to take some of the scattered themes from the original franchise films and weave it into a poetic exploration of life, death, loss and newness. The slight stumbles in its obligatory third act did not overshadow its strengths, leaving a film that was fun, endearing, funny and meaningful.
This follow up tries on a larger size shoe, trading in the ambiguities of the first films imagining of the relationship between science and belief with a film that almost seems to reverse engineer its insights. Here the demigods of our mythologies are made to be real (and dangerous entities) while the spirit world they belong to is relegated to the field of quantum science. The film asks good questions- what is it like to become a ghost, or for a ghost to move on- questions that in the context of this film form its emotional core. And the story even offers an easy pitch to give these questions a fitting and meaningful conclusion. The bigness of the film, however, gets in the way of landing these themes and turning this story from relatively entertaining to emotionally impacting. Perhaps even more of its struggle comes from some of its beats feeling more like a retread than a natural progression.
Still, I’m all in on the new family, and whatever the film loses by trying on those bigger sized shoes is kept afloat by their chemistry and their authenticity. There were enough moments that garnered a smile and a laugh to remind me of why this latest iteration still works. There is a nice thread too, established in a singular scene in which we see both the retired and aged ghostbuster and the young, 15 year old prodigee, being left behind, watching the iconic symbol drive by without them, where we are looking in at the same questions from two different vantage points. This is where the film is at its finest, and these two stars, young and old, are the best parts of Frozen Empire by far. Thankfully we get a good dose of them in the first half of the film.
The story too had potential, for as big as it tries to go. The whole connection between worlds thing was interesting, and there is a young ghost who is given some complex things to work with regarding the plot. It just felt like too much, with the film rushing to catch up to it’s own plot progression at times, and sacrificing certain character moments in the process. It also seems like the film needed to go darker than it does for its central threat to really translate.
I’d be perfectly okay with coming back to this world. I suspect that the novelty of that nostalgic factor will wear off by this point for some audience members. In that case, if they are able to double down on telling fresh, and smaller, stories moving forward I feel like this could find some continued success.
Film Journal 2024: Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire Directed by Adam Wingard
This is a long ways from where we started. Takes all of about 5 seconds for this thing to hit the ground running, not to mention some bizarre tonal shifts that yank the viewer left and right in the first 5 minutes. Whatever whiplash this might give you, it does manage fo find its rhythm, using it to play up the monster mashup ×100 by the end.
It is dumb, but I think if you are a fan of this particular kind of Godzilla/Kong movie, which fits most readily in line with its predecessor (and even then, ratches things up), you should have a good time.
The middle part of the film is the strongest, having assembled the cast of characters, given us a decent dose of the monsters, and then engaging in some world building. Once it hits the back half the story gets cranked up into overdrive and the plot essentially fades away in favor of the climactic showdown we all know is coming.
This is probably the most ambitious of the bunch on an idea front. It lacks the atmosphere of Godzilla, the cinematic presence of Kong and the thematic push of King of Monsters. Even the sheer spectacle of Godzilla versus Kong seemed to feel more substantive in its world building and a bit more urgent in terms of the threats (I mean, it was literally Kong versus Godzilla, so The New Empire wasn’t going to top that). But a step down still has its entertainment value, especially when it’s made for Imax, and this at least knows what it’s going for in terms of silly fun.
If you aren’t a fan of this kind of Godzilla/Kong movie, and especially if you think this one would make you bitter releasing on the heels of the most recent international iteration, then rest assured, you’ll probably hate this.
Reading Journal 2024: The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek Author: Kim Michele Richardson
I became aware of this book on a recent trip to the American south. One of the places I spent some time in was Louisville, Kentucky, and while there I visited one of their famed local bookstores named Carmichaels. I asked the shop to pick out some recommended reads of local authors and books set in the area. This was one of them.
Which set me in good company, as apparently this was a popular and beloved read for many. Finally diving in to it, I can see why. Consider it my own due ignorance, but the historical context behind this book is one I had never heard of and didn’t know existed. I had no idea about the phenomenon of blue skinned people or that it had ties with Kentucky, something that paralleled the larger American issues with racism against blacks in the 1930s.
I also had no idea that such a thing as the Kentucky Pack Horse library existed. What an inspiring story, made all the more alive by being a movement led by strong woman battling against the discriminatory policies of their day, shockingly some of which remain today.
At its heart, it is perhaps mostly about the power of books to reshape our understanding of this world, to capture our imagination, and to inspire us to think, grow, challenge and understand. A portrait of those seen as lesser thans delivering books into the Kentucky mountainside to those also seen as lesser thans, fucntioning in the midst of a society which insisted on upholding a society of lesser thans so that the ones with power might be seen as greater.
Into this comes an unassuming but driven and intelligent young woman and her mule, someone who comes face to face with a world telling her that she cannot be any of these things because of her gender and the color of her skin. It’s a reminder that sometimes even one person can take on the world, and where there is a willing one, pull back the curtain you’ll find the many.
Been thinking more about the film, The Book of Clarence, a film that has really been sticking with me this year, and which has a real, thematic interest in the resurrection.
The journey that the film goes on wonders about how it is that a conviction in the truth of the resurrection might reshape the questions Clarence faces in the film regarding the existence of God in the face of so much wrong in the world. If he begins with a very real articulation of the things he rejects- an idea formed from his experiences and observations about the world, in a very real way, this film wants to push further and ask how this fits with the idea of the Gospel that we find in Jesus. It is only in choosing to approach the things that his experiences and doubts have led him to reject, that his struggles are able to be reframed and challenged. It is within this tension that he finds a way forward back into the world with a fresh perspective on his struggles.
More importantly, the film explores how, and where, we might find the necessary hope to motivate us in the midst of our struggles, at least in ways that keep our questions and our problems from spiralling us into apathy. This brings to mind for me another film from 2024, One Life with Anthony Hopkins. In this film his character is forced to confront a powerful and operative tension, one that challenges his ability and even his desire/motivation to attend to the things that he sees as wrong, which for him is the Holocaust. There is a moment in the film where he wonders about whether the differences he is trying to make matter when it is nowhere near enough. It is a tension that comes with an impossible absence of resolve, one that genuinely challenges ones sense of hope.
I have been wondering today if this is not what the resurrection story is acrually interested in. Whatever our questions and struggles might be, they begin with our experiences of the darkness. For those in the Gospels, those struggles and questions ultimately echoe in the reality of an empty tomb. Those who are present do not know how to reconcile this darkness with the hope this proclaims and represents in the face of their quesions and struggles, and it leads to competing emotions. As my pastor noted this morning, in Mark it says they fled this space with a mix of trembling and astonishment. In Matthew it cites fear and great joy. In Luke we find unbelief and marvel.
What’s interesting is how, in all these cases, we as readers are presented with an invitation to simply come and see, an invitation that flows equally out to those who believed and those who didn’t, all sharing the same space together. It’s an invitation to bring our questions forward and to take a step in the direction of the thing that pushes back against, and even fuels the sentiments of our own doubts, struggles and resistance. What the Gospel writers all imagine is that it is only here in this space that our struggles and resistance can truly be challenged and reshaped into better questions.
And here is the kicker. In the Gospels, what they find at the empty tomb is an invitation to go back into the world from which our questions were birthed, not with certainty but with fresh conviction. It is, for the Gospel writers, an uncertain world and an uncertain conviction that comes with mixed and seemingly opposed emotions and sentiments that shapes the nature of their message, and yet the promise of the resurrection is that when we live this uncertainty in the light of Jesus, it gives us a new lens through which to see the world, and that by living and acting in this world we can find the transformation we so desperately seek. A transformation that begins with a transformed hope.
For Clarence, it just might be the willingness to go to that empty tomb, to look and see and confront it, that offers him a way forward. This is the same invitation given to the disciples. It is the same invitation given to us today.
Coming into 2024, I wondered about three things- how an over abundance of sequels would be recieved, how we would navigate a reigning culture of cynicism, and the impact of balancing a still uncertain release schedule due to the strike,
The first quarter would suggest that sequels have fared well, originals have succumbed to the reigning cynicism, and the schedule has begun to steady with the present agreement found between the parties involved in the strike. If bigger profile original films like The Beekeeper, Argyle, Imaginary, Night Swim, and Madame Web, have all been met with an unusual and largely illogical level of ire, which has saturated the media with never ending headlines of box office woes, smaller indies like Lisa Frankenstien, Drive Away Dolls, Suze, Problemista, The Book of Clarence, Extraordinary Angels, Love Lies Bleeding, King Arthur, One Life and The American Society of Magical Negroes have also labored under the residual apathy of the persistent attacks on the higher profile players, Proving that the old adage “if the movie is good, people will come” doesn’t hold a lot of weight these days.
It would be equally true to say that streaming hasn’t been faring much better. Along with a notable drop in output across the streamers, a handful of the most prominent titles, like Sandler’s Spaceman, Ricky Stanicky, and the rom-com Upgraded, have faded from the cultural conversation and memory long before they ever took hold.
In what was perhaps predictably prophetic, many pundits expected a film year relatively absent of big ticket event films to get its first real boost with Dune 2, which proved to be correct. The numbers for the delayed but still highly anticipated sequel to the extremely successful part 1 has set records and surpassed expectations, even doing the seemingly impossible and getting the younger demographic back to the theater. Following on its heels is another sequel, the 4th installment in the Kung Fu Panda franchise, which is also setting arecordof its own as the highest grossing entry on rotten tomatoes and nearing records with its box office tally. As the first quarter comes to a close, it is yet another two sequels leading the way, the sequel to Ghostbusters Afterlife, which opened to better than expected numbers, albeit with a much higher price tag to recoup, and a week later, the latest American made addition to the Kong/Godzilla monsteverse. One could argue this is the opposite of counter programming. In comes the expanded release of Late Night With the Devil to try and save the day.
There are a handful of outliers here- the musical biopic One Love, which represents the only modest hit out of the first quarters slate of originals, and the horror flick from neon, Immaculate, which, although it barely made money, still managed to stand out for being Neons highest grossing opening of all time.
So where does this all leave me with the year thus far? Somewhat validated, a bit puzzled, and a little bit surprised, I have no problem with films like Dune 2 carrying the box office (it is in my current top 12), but I do get worried about a theatrical landscape that is dependent on it. It works if and when smaller original projects can share space and find modest success as well. It is these films, good films as well, that continue to struggle. If there is a silver lining, and this will depend on how you view this, the general support for sequels thus far does bode well for the remainder of a year that is saturated with them. Even if you loathe this fact as being representative of the dire state of things, spreading the wealth means more freedom for theaters to invest in those smaller and mid budget projects and originals. However, the prevailing cynicism needs to recognize that, even if an original isn’t your favorite film, their success is vital to the bigger picture. The level of negativity that I’ve seen being lobbied at the recent slate of originals, in my opinion, far surpasses any possible legitimate criticism of the films. Films that could have found an audience if more people had simply seen them. It seems to indicate what I had been sensing from the galleys coming into this year, something that appears to be taking on a life all its own.
If this all sounds like a dire state of affairs, it’s worth pointing out that box office isn’t the measure of a films worth, it’s just a measure of an industries state. An industry that desperately needs to reframe and reconsider its measures and expectations. Looking back at the first quarter certainly reflects some extremely strong entries, with a handful of the films on my list standing a good chance of sticking around to the end of the year. But they aren’t being seen. And that remains a significant issue, especially as release patterns remain erratic and largely undefinable.
As an aside, I typically spend my end of the year focusing on shared thematic threads that are sticking out for me and defining my own personal journey with these films. A thread I noticed emerging from the first quarter is a shared interest in exploring those long, complicated and often difficult spaces we occupy between hope and despair, or longing and defeat. Especially as it pertains to seasons or phases of life, including reoccurring themes of immigration and an exploration of how it is that we get to truly know a person.
With that said, here is where I am at the end of the first quarter, including my top 12 films, followed by honorable mentions and a list of films I am looking forward to from the next quarter:
My Top 12 films of 2024 after the first quarter
12. PROBLEMISTA
Impressive for the ways it celebrates the simple virtues of authenticity and creativity. It defies categories, telling its story in a way only it can. It challenges specific social realities, but even more it desires to explore what it means to exist in a world of expectations. To exist is to be known, and to be known is intimately tied to our acts of knowing another. This forms the unexpected emotional current running underneath the the films creative voice. A strong indie and a memorable debut.
11, THE BOOK OF CLARENCE
What I thought would be a raunchy comedy and religious satire turned out to be a meaningful and reverent exploration of the Gospel story. It’s unconventional, and bound to isolate viewers, but behind that is a beautiful message about the Christian vocation and a powerful portrait of the resurrection hope that frames this.
10. SOMETIMES I THINK ABOUT DYING
The films visuals and its aesthetic are captivating and mesmerizing, and the vision is clear, carried by an interesting and engrossing lead performance at its center. It validates experiences with anxiety and depression as real, making it an astute and important film for anyone wrestling with these things and anyone who may know someone who is. If the film brings us anywhere in this journey, it is simply to the potential power of being seen and heard, even when believing we are feels impossible.
9, ONE LIFE
Faces one of life’s biggest questions head on- how is it that we find the motivation to do good in this world when doing good doesn’t seem to bring about the change we so desperately need and desire. The thoughts of a man facing the darkness, desperate to be a light, but doing so in the face of a reality that continues to threaten his ability to imagine that light as poignant and real. And if there is one place this tension pushes him, and us as viewers, it is towards the notion of community as the truest expression of that which feels to exist outside of our view. I found this an interesting film to consider alongside The Book of Clarence, as both films wonder in their own way about the narratives we cling to in the face of potential despair. How we lay claim to promise, and where we find that promise, is an important part of the conversation,
8. DUNE 2
I’m not as emotionally tied to the story as I am with LOTR, even though the two films can share a similar ethos as far as epic storytelling with a grand scale goes. But the filmmaker behind this largely visual and technical achievement is one of the best working today, and there is little doubt that he managed to pull off the seemingly impossible, which is bringing this story to life on the big screen. That it lands with what feels to be a timely socio-political message elevates this from respect to relevance.
7. THE TASTE OF THINGS
The beauty of the way the filmmakers shoot this film is that that the the shared focus on the intimacy and the nuances of cooking food, and the equally stated intimacy of its complex human journey are paralleled in such a way that they tell the same story. The richness it finds in the art of creating a meal becomes a window into the richness of creating human relationship. Both ways in which we experience the world, and likewise each other. More so, both ways in which we experience the transcendent.
6. FREMONT
Endearing is the word that stuck with me after my viewing. And perhaps an endearing subtlety to its approach would be even more specific. It’s a character study on one hand, fronted by some natural and accessible performances.
It is also an examination of the challenges of immigration, following, as it does, an Afghan woman finding her way in America. She becomes a window into the larger realities that surround her, something the film accentuates with the use of a romantic black and white aesthetic, and the sights and sounds and music, providing a nice contrast to the weightier stuff of its story. wrapping its sense of urgency around the every day nature of the story’s unfolding. This is a portrait of life, and the urgency exists, for example, in one womans desperate need to obtain a prescription for sleeping pills, not necessarily for grand resolutions to a larger crisis.
5. SUNCOAST
Totally my descriptive, not the films, but dang it if this thing didn’t quietly stake its claim as one of the best “faith” based films I’ve seen in a long while. Raw, vulnerable, uncensored, and real.
A tender hearted coming of age drama that becomes a studied examination of grief and family. Boasts a quiet but confident lead performance that we should still be talking about at the end of the year.
Bring the tissues, cause it will break you.
4. MONSTER
Part of the experience is being drawn into the unknowns and the mysteries of its story as we move past the initial premise of mother and son dealing with problems at school involving a teacher. It is a journey, and part of a process. It’s brilliance is in its story structure, capturing moments that establish patterns. This helps us to understand the importance of gaining different perspectives, by offering us that necessary window into certain elements and ideas as we go along, but then using the notion that other elements remain blurred and out of view to push us towards wanting and needing to know something that we are unable to see ourselves. We need communion and community to interpret life and the people within it, and that’s never easy. Because life and people, indeed ourselves, can be extremely difficult, which is why simple labels and judgments are so enticing. And yet easy answers don’t get us closer to knowing the truth about life and people, or ourselves.
3. THE PROMISED LAND
If nothing else, I would hope this period western helps bolster a case for The Datk Tower adaptation being desperately underrated. As it’s own accomplishment however, The Promised Land is an exceptional film, operating on a whole other level. If it is possible for Mad Mikkelsen to still surprise and catch me off guard, he certainly does that here, delivering an embodied and commanding performance befitting a revenge drama. It also boasts a memorable villain, elevating the drama to a studied and tension filled exploration of its themes. A film rife with real emotional presence befitting the genre.
Essential viewing and exceptional filmmaking.
2. INSIDE THE YELLOW COCOON SHELL
This debut (and yes the fact that this is a debut is astonishing) will challenge even the most patient of viewers- this is slow cinema with a richly drawn contemplative edge- but for those willing to invest it offers a transformative experience that explores the edges of some of life’s biggest questions. The film reaches to uncover an inner longing, that desire to believe, suggesting that such a truth is compelling in it’s own right, even if we aren’t able to fully grasp the thing we long for. It is, nevertheless, the thing that keeps us seeking, the thing that continues to push and pull us forward amidst the ambiguities, or perhaps into the ambiguities.
And if the films title has power, it is precisely because these are the spaces where we are able to be formed and transformed by the unseen realities that run underneath. The spaces where the hidden begins to become visible, where once our eyes glanced over the spaces and details around us, fresh details and awareness begin to emerge. The essence of a spiritual awakening, one not built on certainty but on a willingness to seek that which was always there.
1. PERFECT DAYS
A film that teaches us how to know a person not through the use of speech, but through observation of things like facial expressions, eye movement, physical gestures and tendencies. The more these subtleties cause us to pause and ask why, the more we get to know who the person really is behind the words (or their absence). If you really want to know who the main character is, you need to dig deeper, learn to see the particular things that make his story his and not ours. That’s the essential process the film wants to engage and awaken for us as viewers.
Honorable Mentions:
ALL DIRT ROADS TASTE LIKE SALT
Captures a gentle mix of beauty and horror, life and death. Things that coexist not in balance, but in tension. Anytime we confront moments of tragedy or sorrow in the experiences of our main protagonist, we are called to seek and to hold the quiet moments of contrast. Two kinds of soil, one promising hope, the other seeded with the stuff of sorrow and struggle. “You gotta find the right bank and dig for it. It’s not just any dirt.” A truth that finds its meaning in the water that frames the films reigning imagery of life’s ebb and flow… “it doesn’t end or begin, it just changes form.”
SUZE
This charming, good humored, big hearted drama is definitely worth checking out. It features an unlikely friendship between a middle aged single mother with early menopause and her daughters ex-boyfriend, explored through two likeable performances and a good dose of chemistry.
MARMALADE
It’s a bit uncertain in the early going, but once it gets going it turns into an unexpectedly entertaining film. A hidden gem.
FIRST TIME CALLER
A solid, single location indie that makes the most out of its premise. It’s far fetched, but if you give yourself to it there is a good chance it will manage to suck you in to its tension filled hour and a bit run time. A shock radio internet sensation gets more than he bargains for when he tackles a first time caller, taking him to places he didnt want to go. One might not think one man talking to an unseen caller could make for riveting drama, but there is little question thats exactly what this is.
FILMS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO IN THE SECOND QUARTER OF 2024
IF: IMAGINARY FRIENDS
Not to be confused with Imaginary, the horror film that released earlier this year, the drawing card for IF is the pairing of Krasinski and Reynolds.
THE BIKERIDERS
This new film by Jeff Nichols has been on many most anticipated lists ever since if debuted on the festival circuit last year. I’m here for it.
GREEN BORDER
I am a big fan of the Directors previous film, Mr. Jones, so another historical drama with a geo-political backdrop has me excited
KINDS OF KINDNESS
Yorgos Lanthimos, Emma Stone, Jesse Plemons, Willem Dafoe. The famed director is typically middling fare for me, but it is never something I don’t at the very least admire and respect.
BACK TO BLACK
I’m not as excited about the Director as I am about the musical biopic. Jury is out on this one, but l am optimistic
KIDNAPPED
A lower profile affair, but I thought The Traitor was an engrossing film, and I think some of the sensibilities in that film lend themselves to a rich examination of the religious backdrop infoming Kidnapped’s story.
THE FALL GUY
The advertising campaign for this blockbuster has been strong, and it being a love letter to an often neglected and ignored aspect of filmmaking (stunt work) makes this a must see.
MONKEY MAN
A few months ago no one knew this film existed. Its sudden emergence has managed to set in play a fever pitch of excitement. Not only was it unknown, but premiers have been winning over audiences left and right. I have no problem letting that guide my anticipation.
CIVIL WAR
If expectations could speak, they would tell the story of Civil War. A film critics had written off and largely mocked based on assumptions and perceptions, now having to be taken seriously after said critics found out that hey, it’s actually pretty dang good. For me, it’s a new film from Garland, so I was here for it from the start.
THE IDEA OF YOU
I’d trust a romantic comedy in the hands of the Director of The Big Sick. As long as I can ignore The Lovebirds,
EVIL DOES NOT EXIST
From the Director of Drive My Car comes a new promising drama that feels immersed in its focus on its human subjects and asking big, existential questions. That’s all I need to have this near the top of my to see list
PARACHUTE
I know so little about this, but from the bits and pieces that I do know, this seems like an intriguing project. I’m perhaps mostly intrigued to see the next step in Bautista’s foray into serious drama
A QUIET PLACE: DAY ONE
I’m mixed on this one. We are a long ways from the original’s once upon a time promise as a stand alone film. I granted that the sequel came into existence because it felt like a necessary follow up. Here the premise feels like it could be pushing a line into irrelevance. At the same time though, I’m invested, and a part of me is actually curious to get some answers to how this whole thing started.
INSIDE OUT 2
In Pixar I trust. We’re in a day and age though where some of that trust is beginning to wane. If ever there was a reason to be skeptical, it would be the simple existence of a sequel. It’s still a sequel to one of their best films, and it worked for Toy Story. Puberty also seems like the story’s natural progression, and it comes ripe with fresh emotions to draw from, so optimism can reign here,
The Stories of my Life 