The Iron Rose (5 Stars)

I watched this film twice today, so I'm reviewing it twice. That's the rules. I can only remember two other films that I've watched twice on the same day, and both were before I started writing my blog. The first was "Downfall"/"Der Untergang", and the second was "Inland Empire".

I'll stick to a few things that I picked up from the excellent commentary by the film critic Tim Lucas.

The cemetery used in the film is the Madeleine Cemetery in Amiens. It's a small town, but it's famous as the burial place of Jules Verne. There's a special memorial to him, with a sculpture that's well known. Jean Rollin was careful not to show Jules Verne's grave in any scenes, because he wanted the cemetery to remain anonymous.

Most of the scenes were filmed at night. The caretaker was bribed with bottles of wine to allow the film crew to spend all night in the cemetery. I hope he didn't lose his job.

The unnamed man in the film was played by Hugues Quester, a moderately successful French actor. He was arrogant and thought the film was below his standards. He looked down on Jean Rollin and hardly spoke with him. He asked for his name to be kept secret, and many film posters called him Pierre Dupont. Ironically, in retrospect "The Iron Rose" is considered his greatest film.

When Jean Rollin died in 2010 an iron rose was placed on the lid of his coffin.

Tim Lucas also went into some detail about the question I asked about whether Karine died at the end of the film or returned to the beach. He's convinced that she survived, but he added some additional thoughts. He suggests that the old woman in the cemetery might be Karine years later, so the sealing of the crypt could be decades later. He also suggests that the beach scenes are Karine celebrating the man's death. It's possible (in Tim's opinion) that the nude scene never happened, it was just a dream she had when the man was locked in the crypt. I personally doubt this interpretation.

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The Iron Rose (5 Stars)

I'm really excited. This week I found out that all of Jean Rollin's films are going to be released as 4K editions. This brings my film collecting full circle. When I bought my first DVD player in 2003, Jean Rollin's films were among the first that I bought. Now, 23 years later, I'm rebuying them all on 4K discs. I ordered 14 of his films last week, and the first eleven have arrived. They're all in beautiful boxes with 80-page booklets, and the discs are packed with special features. The picture quality of "The Iron Rose" was always below average, as a poorly stored film from the 1970's. Now it looks glorious. The film's restoration is obviously a labour of love.

I watched the film twice today. The first time it was the film itself, the second time I watched it with a commentary track by the film critic Tim Lucas. I don't usually listen to commentary tracks from external contributors, I prefer the director or the actors, but in this case Tim has done an excellent job.

Every time I watch the film I ask new questions. This is the most Lynchian of all of Jean Rollin's films. The opening scene on the beach obviously takes place after the events in the film, but Karine seemingly dies in the final scene. That still confuses me, so I asked ChatGPT the question, "Does Karine die at the end of The Iron Rose or return to the beach?" I received a very insightful reply.

---

That final movement in The Iron Rose is one of Jean Rollin's most deliberately unresolved endings; and it's meant to support both of the readings you're suggesting.

1. She dies in the cemetery

The most literal interpretation is:

Karine never leaves the cemetery.

She fully yields to its logic; calm, detached, almost at peace.

The male character collapses into panic, while she assimilates into the world of the dead.

In this reading:

Her "death" is not shown conventionally.

It’s more a spiritual or existential absorption than a physical event.

The cemetery doesn't just trap her; it claims her.

2. She returns to the beach

The alternative, and very compelling, interpretation is:

The beach scene represents a return or continuation after the cemetery.

Karine emerges changed; no longer frightened, but aligned with death.

The rose links the cemetery to the beach, suggesting continuity rather than escape.

Here, she hasn't escaped in any meaningful sense; she's simply carried the cemetery with her.

3. The key idea: transformation, not outcome

What matters isn't whether she "dies" or "leaves", but that:

She accepts the cemetery’s reality.

She becomes emotionally and symbolically one with it.

By contrast:

The man resists, panics, and disintegrates.

He experiences the cemetery as horror.

She experiences it as something closer to belonging.

4. Why Rollin leaves it open

Rollin avoids closure because the film isn’t about plot resolution:

Time is circular or collapsed.

Spaces bleed into each other.

Life and death are not cleanly separated.

So asking "did she die or return?" is almost the wrong question; the film's answer is:

    "those two states are no longer distinct".

Bottom line

Yes, you can read it as Karine dying in the cemetery.

Yes, you can read it as her returning to the beach.

But the strongest reading is:

She undergoes a transformation where death, memory and continuation become the same state.

That's why the ending lingers; it doesn't resolve, it echoes.

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Synecdoche, New York (5 Stars)

"Synecdoche, New York" is one of the most ambitious, disorienting and emotionally punishing films of the 21st century; less a conventional narrative than a sustained immersion into consciousness, memory and decay.

Written and directed by Charlie Kaufman, the film follows theatre director Caden Cotard, played with extraordinary vulnerability by Philip Seymour Hoffman. At first, his problems seem recognisable: a failing marriage, a distant child and a growing catalogue of unexplained illnesses. What begins as a character study soon expands into something far more abstract and unsettling.

After receiving a MacArthur Fellowship, a seemingly unlimited grant, Caden embarks on a theatrical project of total realism. He rents a vast warehouse in New York and constructs a full-scale replica of the city inside it, populating it with actors who play real people, including actors who play the actors themselves. As the project grows across years, then decades, the boundary between representation and reality collapses. Time becomes unstable, identities blur and Caden loses any fixed sense of self.

Kaufman’s central idea, that art is both an attempt to capture life and an admission of its impossibility, unfolds through increasingly recursive layers. The warehouse becomes a physical expression of the mind: obsessive, self-referential and incapable of completion. Each attempt at authenticity pushes Caden further from it. The more detailed the simulation becomes, the less meaningful it feels.

Hoffman anchors the film emotionally. His Caden is not an eccentric visionary but an ordinary man overwhelmed by existence. His physical decline mirrors his inner disintegration, and the film’s emphasis on bodily decay, illness, ageing and fragility, gives it the texture of existential horror. Death is not distant here; it is constant and mundane.

The supporting cast, including Samantha Morton, Michelle Williams and Catherine Keener, reinforces the film’s shifting emotional terrain. Relationships begin, transform and dissolve without resolution. People drift in and out of Caden’s life with dreamlike abruptness; time seems to accelerate beyond comprehension.

Visually, the film moves from muted realism into quiet unreality. Spaces subtly distort, timelines overlap and the warehouse expands into something impossible. Kaufman avoids spectacle; the surreal elements emerge gradually, which makes them more disturbing.

What makes the film so challenging is its refusal of catharsis. There is no clear arc, no resolution and no comforting conclusion. Instead, it confronts the viewer with difficult ideas: that life exceeds understanding, that identity is unstable and that the search for meaning may itself be futile. Yet there is also a kind of tenderness. Even flawed, incomplete attempts at connection, in art or in life, are all that remain.

Over time, the film has come to be regarded as a modern masterpiece, though it remains divisive. Some find it deeply moving, others find it alienating or oppressive. Both responses feel appropriate. Kaufman is not aiming for entertainment; he is attempting to mirror the overwhelming complexity of being alive.

In the end, "Synecdoche, New York" lingers. It unsettles and gradually reshapes how one thinks about time, art and mortality. Few films demand so much; fewer reward that effort so completely.

Success Rate:  - 4.4

The Testament Of Ann Lee (3 Stars)

I saw trailers for this film when I went to the cinema in the last few weeks. It looked good, so I went to see it today, on opening day. I felt confused, not knowing what the director was trying to say. It was only at the end, when the final credits rolled, that I realised it was a true story. I wish I'd known from the start, because I would have got more from it.

Ann Lee is a woman who was born on 29th February 1736 in Manchester, England. She came from a poor family, and she became a child labourer at the age of 10. She felt religious, so she visited different religious groups. Eventually she remained with the Wardley Group, also known as the Shakers. They were a religious group that had split from the Quakers. The leaders preached that Jesus would return as a woman. Ann had visions that revealed to her that she was the new Messiah.

Ann got married and four children. One died in childbirth, the other three died before they reached the age of one. Her visions told her that sexual intercourse is a sin, and even married couples should refrain. The Shakers became celibate.

In 1774 Ann emigrated to America with her followers. In 1784 she died, and the world didn't end.

Despite my low rating, I need to watch the film again. Knowing the background will help me enjoy it more.

The Wandering Swordsman (4 Stars)

"The Wandering Swordsman" is a lively martial arts adventure from the golden age of the Shaw Brothers studio. Directed by Chang Cheh and starring David Chiang, the film blends wandering-hero mythology, fast-paced swordplay and a slightly playful tone that distinguishes it from the director's more solemn works.

David Chiang plays Yu Hsiao, a cheerful but formidable swordsman who roams the countryside helping those in need. When he becomes involved with a group of travelling performers and refugees, he learns that a ruthless warlord is oppressing the local population. Yu's sense of justice draws him into the conflict, and his easy-going personality gradually gives way to fierce determination as the violence escalates.

Unlike many of Chang Cheh's later heroic bloodshed tales, the film begins with a surprisingly light touch. Yu Hsiao is a relaxed and occasionally humorous protagonist; he drinks, jokes and drifts from place to place without much concern for consequences. This carefree attitude gives the early sections a breezy charm, and it makes the eventual confrontations feel more dramatic when the hero's patience finally runs out.

The action sequences are energetic rather than elaborate. The choreography emphasises speed and physicality, with David Chiang's agile performance carrying much of the excitement. While the fights do not reach the operatic intensity of some later Shaw Brothers productions, they remain satisfying and clearly staged.

Visually, the film displays the colourful studio style typical of Shaw Brothers productions of the period. Bright costumes, theatrical sets and bold lighting create a stylised world that feels closer to traditional Chinese storytelling than to realism. The wandering-hero theme also echoes classic wuxia literature, presenting Yu Hsiao as a knight-errant who follows his own moral code rather than any official authority.

Although "The Wandering Swordsman" lacks the tragic weight found in some of Chang Cheh's most famous films, it remains an engaging entry in the wuxia genre. Its combination of humour, wandering adventure and bursts of action makes it an enjoyable showcase for David Chiang's charismatic screen presence. For fans of Shaw Brothers cinema, it offers a pleasant variation on the director's usual themes while still delivering the heroic spirit that defines his work.

Trail of the Broken Blade (4½ Stars)

This is a beautiful film that shows loyalty and honour in the Ming period. Men and women do what is right, not what is pleasant or easy.

The warrior Fang Jun saves a family under attack. The father asks him to teach his daughter Liu Chen martial arts so that she can defend herself, but he's really hoping to find a husband for her. Fang falls in love with her, but she says she loves someone else. Her lover Li Yueh has killed a corrupt government official to avenge his father's death. He's now a wanted criminal, so he's run away and taken on a new identity. Fang promises to find him and reunite the lovers.

Li Yueh is living as a poor stable-hand. The innkeeper's daughter falls in love with him, but he refuses her advances, because he's still in love with Liu Chen, even though he never expects to see her again. By coincidence – one of the many coincidences in the film – Fang comes to stay at the inn and becomes friends with Li Yueh, not knowing who he is. Their friendship becomes closer when they have to fight against common enemies.

It's not a love triangle, it's a love square. Maybe a broken square. Whatever it is, it's obvious from the beginning of the film that it will end in tragedy.

The Weird Man (3 Stars)

"The Weird Man" is one of the more eccentric supernatural films produced by the legendary Hong Kong studio Shaw Brothers. Blending martial arts, folklore and black comedy, the film tells the story of a man who uses dark magic to transform himself into a powerful monster, unleashing chaos in pursuit of revenge.

Director Chang Cheh pushes the material toward grotesque spectacle rather than traditional wuxia heroics. The transformation scenes, crude but imaginative by early-1980s standards, give the film a lurid energy that fans of Shaw Brothers' later supernatural cycle will recognise. At times the tone veers wildly between horror and slapstick, which can make the narrative feel uneven.

Nevertheless, the film has a certain charm. Its practical effects, exaggerated performances and bizarre storyline capture a period when Hong Kong genre cinema embraced outrageous ideas with enthusiasm.

While far from a classic, "The Weird Man" remains an entertaining curiosity; a strange hybrid of monster movie and kung fu fantasy that will mostly appeal to dedicated Shaw Brothers enthusiasts.

A Samurai In Time (4½ Stars)

In the year 1867 the samurai warrior Kosaka Shinzaemon is in a battle to the death with a young warrior from another clan. A lightning bolt strikes him, and he wakes up in the year 2007. He's at the same place, but it's now being used as a film set where Japanese period dramas (jidaigeki) are made. It's assumed that he's a non-speaking extra, so he's immediately involved in the production of the next episode. As the weeks go by, his fighting skills are recognised, so he's given bigger and bigger roles.

This is an amazing film. It was made on a small budget, but it was greatly successful in Japan. I have a few minor complaints about the film which I won't mention here. Maybe I'll write more when I watch it again.

Success Rate:  + 36.5

Flowers of War (5 Stars)

Directed by Zhang Yimou, "The Flowers of War" is a large scale historical drama set during the Nanjing Massacre of 1937. The story follows an opportunistic American undertaker, played by Christian Bale, who takes refuge in a church as Japanese troops overrun the city. Inside the church, a group of schoolgirls and a group of prostitutes find themselves forced into an uneasy alliance as they struggle to survive the occupation.

The film combines brutal wartime imagery with a melodramatic narrative typical of Zhang's style. The opening sequences depicting the fall of Nanjing are chaotic and frightening, capturing the terror of civilians caught in a collapsing city. At the centre of the story is Bale as a reluctant protector, a cynical outsider who gradually assumes responsibility for those sheltering with him. While the character arc is predictable, Bale gives the role enough humanity to keep the film emotionally grounded.

Visually, the film is striking. Zhang contrasts the devastation outside with the candlelit interiors of the church, creating moments of quiet beauty amid the horror. At times the stylised presentation risks softening the historical brutality, yet the film still conveys the moral desperation of people trapped in an impossible situation.

"The Flowers of War" may not be a subtle war film, but it's emotionally powerful. By focusing on sacrifice and solidarity among unlikely companions, it turns a vast historical tragedy into an intimate story about courage and survival.

Success Rate:  - 1.0

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John Rabe (5 Stars)

"John Rabe", directed by Florian Gallenberger, dramatises the extraordinary true story of John Rabe, a German businessman who helped save thousands of Chinese civilians during the Nanjing Massacre of 1937. The film follows Rabe, played by Ulrich Tukur, as he reluctantly becomes the head of the Nanking Safety Zone Committee, organising a refuge for civilians while Japanese troops occupy the city.

The film's most striking element is Tukur's restrained performance. He portrays Rabe not as a conventional hero but as a pragmatic administrator who gradually realises the moral weight of his position. This understated approach helps ground the film amid the harrowing historical backdrop. The supporting cast, including Daniel Brühl and Steve Buscemi, add an international dimension that reflects the multinational effort behind the safety zone.

While the film inevitably condenses events and simplifies some political complexities, it succeeds in highlighting a little known chapter of the Second Sino-Japanese War. Its depiction of the violence in Nanjing is disturbing without becoming gratuitous, keeping the focus on the humanitarian struggle rather than spectacle.

Overall, "John Rabe" is a sober historical drama that sheds light on a remarkable figure whose actions saved many lives during one of the darkest episodes of the twentieth century.

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The Bride (5 Stars)

Many people mistakenly call Frankenstein's monster Frankenstein, as if it were the name of the monster and not his creator. That's always annoyed me. However, in "The Bride" it's justified. The film takes place in 1936, long after the death of Victor Frankenstein, and the monster has travelled to America calling himself Frankenstein. So this time it's okay.

The film completely surprised me. It's been filmed as a surreal framework story, with Mary Shelly herself telling the story. It's beautiful. It's the best film I've seen so far this year.

The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (4 Stars)

This film is the fourth adaptation of the 1967 novel by Yasutaka Tsutsui with the same name. The films were made in 1983, 1997, 2006 and 2010. There was also a TV series in 1972. With all this interest in the story, I'm surprised it's never been filmed in other countries.

The film begins in 2010. Kazuko Yoshiyama is a university professor who has developed a means of time travel. She has a car accident, and she thinks she might not recover. She asks her daughter Akari to travel back to her school science lab in 1972 and give a message to Kazuo, her first lover. She says that Kazuo was waiting for her. Unfortunately, Akari travels to 1974 and can't find Kazuo. There's no record of him ever being in the school. Akari meets her mother and shows her a photo of Kazuo, but she doesn't recognise him. Akari says she'll remain in the past until she solves the mystery.

This is a slow-moving story. It's a love story. Akari meets a boy in her mother's school and falls in love with him. There are a lot of interwoven plots and subplots. It's a film that's worth watching a second time.

Marty Supreme (3 Stars)

I've been hearing about this film for weeks. It's received nine nominations for the Academy Awards, including best film. One of my friends has told me it's his favourite film of the year so far. So I expected to enjoy it today. I wanted to enjoy it. But I didn't.

It's difficult to say why I don't like a film without giving away spoilers, but I think I can do it with "Marty Supreme". The main reason that I don't like the film is because I find the character Marty unpleasant. He lies, cheats and steals to get what he wants. He's conceited. He's not someone I can cheer on. He's not someone I'd want as a friend.

A second reason is that he has no noticeable character arc, not even in his table tennis skills. He starts the film as the best, and he ends at the best. That's all I can say about him.

The critics disagree. They see something in the film that I don't. I don't want to put my readers off. Maybe you'll enjoy it more than me.

Mondays (4 Stars)

Wow! Does everyone in Japan work so hard? Akemi works in a small advertising agency, in a single room with five colleagues and their boss. They don't go home in the evening. They sleep on the floor or slump over their desk.

Akemi wakes up at 9:17 on Monday morning. She's surrounded by her sleeping colleagues. Gradually they wake up. Then she's approached by two of her colleagues who tell her that they're stuck in a time loop. She doesn't believe them, but they try to convince her by predicting what will happen next. The whole week passes, a day at a time. Until next Monday when she wakes up at 9:17 again, and her colleagues tell her they're stuck in a time loop. Now she believes them, and they try to persuade their other colleagues one by one. They also speculate what's causing the time loop.

This is a very low key film. There's not much action, just a lot of repetition. How often is the week repeated? Late in the film we're told it's been 70 times by the secretary, the only person who noticed the loop immediately. We don't see that many repetitions, and I wasn't counting.

I'm a sucker for time loop films. I love them. I need to watch it again, if I can find the time among all the new films on my watch list. Maybe if I get into a time loop I can watch more films.

Scream 7 (4 Stars)

A new Scream film! I couldn't wait. I had to go see it on the first day.

The cinema was less than a quarter full. I expected more people. I'd read that based on advance ticket sales "Scream 7" will probably the most successful film in the series so far. Does it deserve such success? That's a difficult question to answer. It's a good film, but I wouldn't rate it as highly as the first three films.

I'll only give two spoilers:

1. There's no after-credits scene.

2. There's a mid-credits scene with bloopers.

Dust Bunny (3 Stars)

Aurora is a 10-year-old girl who lives in an apartment in Manhattan with her foster parents. One night she discovers a monster under her bed. Her parents don't believe her – parents never do – so she sleeps outside her window on the fire escape to avoid the monster. The next day her parents are eaten by the monster, leaving her alone. She's witnessed her neighbour (an unnamed man played by Mads Mikkelsen) killing a dragon, so she asks him to kill the monster. Unfortunately, she's misunderstood what she saw. He actually killed a man wearing a dragon costume in Chinatown. The neighbour is a secret agent at war with enemy agents. He doesn't believe in monsters, but he agrees to help Aurora, even though it brings her into contact with the enemies attacking him.

There are many things about the film that I don't like, but I'll just name one problem: even though Aurora knows there's a monster under the bed, she returns home to sleep in her bed every night. That's totally illogical.

I don't intend to buy the film, but I'll give it another chance when it's available on streaming.

The Fantastic Magic Baby (3 Stars)

"The Fantastic Magic Baby" is one of the strangest entries in the famed Shaw Brothers catalogue; rather than the hard-hitting kung fu epics the studio is known for, it plays like a filmed Peking Opera adaptation of a chapter from Journey to the West, focusing on the impish Red Boy (aka the Fantastic Magic Baby) and his clashes with the Monkey King and the celestial pantheon.

Visually and stylistically, the film is a vivid feast of opera-inspired choreography, flamboyant costumes and painted-backdrop stagecraft, with fights unfolding more like acrobatic dance numbers than conventional fight scenes; this gives the film a theatrical energy that is incredibly distinctive but can also feel disorienting or slow to viewers expecting standard martial arts spectacle.

The narrative itself is skeletal: there’s a simple arc about rescuing the monk Tripitaka and guiding Red Boy toward righteousness, but most of the enjoyment comes from the sheer performative flair. For some, that makes it a mesmerising oddity; for others it drifts toward the baffling.

In short, it’s less a traditional martial arts film and more a vibrant, theatrical curiosity; worth watching for fans of Hong Kong cinema and anyone curious about the fusion of opera and wuxia, but likely not representative of Shaw Brothers' typical action fare.

Lost Highway (5 Stars)

Finally I'm watching my favourite film again. It's a masterpiece. Maybe I shouldn't say finally, because I watched it twice last year. It's a film I could watch every day, or maybe only once a week, because it's overpowering and I need time to recover.

It's a film that I'd like to watch with friends who appreciate it as much as I do. It's a film I'd like to discuss with friends, preferably over a beer. Tonight I was sitting alone, during and after the film, so I tried something new. I started a discussion with ChatGPT. First I asked what the film meant, and I was glad that ChatGPT gave the time loop interpretation, not the fantasy interpretation that Fred Madison invented everything while he was in his prison cell. The latter interpretation was popular for years, until David Lynch came out and said it was wrong. That's probably why ChatGPT sticks to the time loop theory.

Our discussion revolved around two questions:

1. Who is the executioner?

2. Did Fred Madison really kill his wife?

A couple of times I contradicted ChatGPT, saying "That isn't true, because..." and I always got insightful replies. Either ChatGPT said "Yes it is", giving arguments to back up its position, or it agreed with me.

This was clearest in the case of Fred Madison killing his wife. ChatGPT said a few times that Fred was a murderer, but when I said "I don't think Fred really killed his wife", it backed down and said "There are a lot of arguments in favour of your position". After the alleged murder the body is never shown on screen. More to the point, at the end of the film Fred finds his wife in the hotel having sex with Dick Laurent. The only other explanation for this is that in the time loop the final scenes of the film might have happened before the murder. Maybe. That doesn't add up, because Andy is alive before the murder, but he's dead at the end of the film.

The executioner must be Fred. He kills Dick Laurent in cold blood. Dick Laurent was guilty of killing people in snuff films, so he was condemned to death. Where was he sent to wait for his execution? Into the time loop. Where was the executioner? Fred was hiding in Pete Dayton's body.

The main argument against Fred being the executioner is that he dies at the end of the film. Or does he? The final scene takes place outside of the time loop, where anything is possible. In the opening scenes, when Dick Laurent's death is announced, we hear the police cars chasing Fred; but Fred is still in his apartment.

Interestingly, ChatGPT tried to smooth over all our disagreements by saying David Lynch is painting a surreal picture which can't be fully explained; it doesn't matter if Fred killed his wife or not.

A friend of mine – if you're reading this you know who you are – said to me that David Lynch makes films which only he can understand. That's not a viewpoint I like. I prefer ChatGPT's surreal picture explanation.

I'd still prefer to discuss the film with a person. Preferably in person, but if anyone wants to leave comments on this post I'll answer him.

Success Rate:  - 3.9

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Eddie the Eagle (5 Stars)

The 2026 Winter Olympic Games are currently being held in Italy. I've glanced at some of the events when they were broadcast live. There are lots of weird sports that I'd never even heard of. What's this thing called curling? I'm sure skill is involved, but I can't get into it. Ice skating, now that's something different. Elegance on the ice. That's the only event that held my interest for more than half an hour.

In honour of the Olympic Games, I just watched "Eddie the Eagle", which shows a young athlete's path to the 1988 Winter Olympic Games in Canada. Those were simpler days. It's a great film that I've already watched a few times. It's a crowd-pleasing underdog story that knows exactly what it is and rarely pretends to be anything more. Directed with buoyant energy, it turns the improbable true story of British ski jumper Eddie Edwards into a glossy, feel-good sports fantasy.

Taron Egerton plays Eddie with wide-eyed sincerity, leaning into the character's awkward optimism without tipping into parody. He makes Eddie's stubbornness oddly moving; this is a man who confuses delusion with destiny and somehow makes it work. Hugh Jackman, as the hard-drinking coach Bronson Peary, supplies gruff charm and a familiar redemption arc. His performance is charismatic, if comfortably within his star persona.

The film takes generous liberties with fact, smoothing rough edges and inventing rivalries to heighten drama. Yet its unabashed sentimentality is part of its appeal. Bathed in 1980s nostalgia and propelled by a rousing score, it celebrates perseverance over podium finishes.

Success Rate:  + 0.0

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Falling Down (5 Stars)

Joel Schumacher's Falling Down is usually remembered for Michael Douglas's volcanic turn as D-Fens; yet the film's moral and emotional centre lies elsewhere. It belongs to Robert Duvall, whose portrayal of Sergeant Martin Prendergast gives the film its conscience, its melancholy and, ultimately, its quiet hope.

Duvall plays Prendergast as a man on the brink of retirement, shuffled off to desk duty after a traumatic shooting. In lesser hands the character might have been a stock weary cop counting the days; Duvall instead builds him from small, almost invisible gestures. His voice is soft, nearly apologetic; his posture slightly stooped; his gaze observant rather than commanding. Where D-Fens explodes outward, Prendergast absorbs. The performance is reactive, patient, almost recessive, and that restraint becomes its power.

From the outset, Prendergast is framed as diminished. At work he is patronised by colleagues; at home he is dominated by a fragile, manipulative wife who infantilises him. Duvall resists caricature here. He does not play Prendergast as weak; he plays him as cautious, a man who has learned that force has consequences. The backstory of the mistaken shooting hangs over him like a moral wound. Every decision is filtered through that guilt.

As the narrative intercuts between D-Fens's rampage and Prendergast's investigation, a subtle inversion takes shape. D-Fens believes he is reclaiming agency in a world that has wronged him; Prendergast appears to have relinquished his. Yet scene by scene, Duvall charts a quiet reclamation. The more clearly Prendergast understands the psychology of the suspect, the more he begins to trust his own instincts again. The detective work becomes an existential process.

Duvall excels in moments of understatement: a pause before contradicting a superior; a slight tightening of the jaw when his wife's anxiety spirals; the calm insistence with which he pieces together D-Fens's path across Los Angeles. He never overplays the character's intelligence; it simply accumulates. By the time Prendergast realises he is the only officer truly grasping the situation, the audience recognises that authority has shifted to him almost imperceptibly.

The climax crystallises the arc. Confronting D-Fens, Prendergast does not meet rage with rage. He meets it with clarity. The famous exchange, in which D-Fens begins to see himself not as a righteous avenger but as the villain of the piece, lands because Duvall underplays it. There is no triumphant flourish, only a steady moral gaze. In that moment, Prendergast completes his journey from self-doubt to moral certainty.

What makes the arc satisfying is that it is not about heroism in the conventional sense. Prendergast does not rediscover bravado; he rediscovers judgement. His retirement becomes less an escape than a choice made on his own terms. The man who began the film overshadowed by louder personalities ends it as the figure who restores order, both externally and internally.

In a film often read as a lightning rod for cultural grievance, Duvall provides ballast. His performance anchors the story in empathy and responsibility. If Douglas supplies the fire, Duvall supplies the gravity; and it is gravity, in the end, that gives Falling Down its enduring weight.

Success Rate:  + 1.8

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Wuthering Heights (5 Stars)

This film has been promoted as the perfect film for Valentine's Day. I almost agree. It's a powerful film packed with passion from beginning to end, but as those who've read the novel by Emily Bronte know, it's a tragedy. You won't go home with a contented feeling in your heart. In fact, this post could be reduced to a two-word review:

Love hurts.

My praises go out to German cinema fans. The theatre (373 seats) was almost full, even though the film was shown in its original version with English dialogue. The film was shown simultaneously in another room (404 seats) dubbed into German, and it was also close to being sold out. I'm always happy when the cinemas are full.

The Road Home (5 Stars)

I have a principle. Every time I watch a bad film, like "Spring Breakers" yesterday. I make sure that the next film is something I know and love. Bad films have an effect on my mood. They bring me down. So what better film can I watch than "The Road Home", a beautiful love story directed by Zhang Yimou?

"The Road Home" is one of Zhang Yimou's most deceptively simple films; a rural love story told with the clarity of folklore and the emotional precision of memory.

Set in a small northern Chinese village, the film unfolds through a son's recollection of how his parents met. The present is rendered in austere black and white, while the past blooms into saturated colour; a visual strategy that quietly reverses expectation, suggesting that memory is more vivid than lived reality. At the centre is Zhang Ziyi's luminous performance as a young woman whose love expresses itself through ritual, patience and stubborn devotion. Her repeated walks along the dirt road become acts of faith; love is not declared but enacted.

Zhang strips away political spectacle and urban modernity, focusing instead on landscape, tradition and the dignity of ordinary people. Yet beneath its pastoral calm lies a subtle meditation on change. The arrival of modern education, the Cultural Revolution's aftershocks and the erosion of village customs hover at the edges of the frame. What remains constant is the emotional architecture of remembrance.

Unfashionably earnest and almost defiantly sentimental, "The Road Home" works because it believes in its own sincerity. It's a film about waiting, about honouring the past and about how love survives in gestures repeated over time. In its quiet way, it's one of Zhang's most moving achievements.

Spring Breakers (1½ Stars)

"Spring Breakers" was shown in my local cinema as part of the monthly Cinema Futuro series, which highlights films that the organisers consider to be the future of cinema. When it began three years ago the emphasis was on films directed by women, but this is no longer the case. When the film was announced the posters called it a cult film, which surprised me, because I had bad memories of the film. I wanted to be in the cinema today, but I was unable to go due to family issues, so I watched it at home instead.

Today I made an effort to enjoy the film, I really did, but within the first half hour I felt like turning it off. It's such a superficial film, about four girls who go on spring break – that's an American thing – after robbing a diner to get the money. It's the best time of their lives, they repeatedly claim in voiceover, until they're arrested at a party with excessive drug use. They're bailed out by a local drug dealer who gives them guns and uses them to get revenge on his rival.

Anyone who knows anything about me and my tastes will immediately know why I don't like things like this. In my youth I avoided drug use, with the exception of a few weeks experimenting with LSD when I was 20. The women in the film are objectified as weak eye candy, with the exception of a sudden, unexpected transition in the final scene. There's no character arc, unless you can call the sudden jump from one extreme to the other an arc.

I've read article after article praising the film. I seem to be in the minority. The only reason I have for granting it half a star above my rock bottom rating is the eye candy. I like beautiful girls. The film has nothing else in its favour. It's trash, and I don't say that in a good way. Today's the second time I've watched it, and there will never be a third time.

Success Rate:  + 4.4

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Madame Web (4 Stars)

"Madame Web" (2024) is an origin story set within Sony's Spider-Man Universe. Rather than centring on an established superhero, the film follows Cassandra "Cassie" Webb, a paramedic in New York City who gradually discovers that her life has been shaped by forces connected to clairvoyance, fate and a web of interlocking destinies.

The film opens in the Peruvian Amazon in 1973. A pregnant researcher, Constance Webb, is searching the jungle for a rare spider species rumoured to possess extraordinary properties. She is betrayed by her colleague Ezekiel Sims, who murders members of the expedition and steals the spider. Constance is fatally wounded but is saved temporarily by members of an indigenous tribe who use the spider's abilities to try to preserve her life. She gives birth to Cassie before dying, and the baby is taken back to the United States.

Decades later, Cassie Webb is a hardened, emotionally distant paramedic in Manhattan. She has grown up in foster care and believes her mother died in a plane crash while researching spiders, unaware of the true circumstances. Cassie avoids personal attachments and lives a solitary life. During a rescue operation on a bridge, she nearly drowns while saving a driver from a submerged car. After being resuscitated, she begins experiencing vivid flashes of the future. At first, these episodes are disorienting and brief; she sees moments seconds before they occur and realises she can alter events by acting on her visions.

Cassie's powers intensify when she encounters three teenage girls on a train: Julia Cornwall, Anya Corazon and Mattie Franklin. In a sudden vision, Cassie sees them murdered by a masked, superpowered man wearing a spider-themed suit. The attacker is revealed to be Ezekiel Sims, now a wealthy and influential businessman who gained enhanced strength and agility from the spider in Peru. He has been haunted by recurring dreams in which three spider-powered women kill him. Through his own research and access to advanced surveillance technology, he identifies the girls as the future threat and sets out to eliminate them before they can develop their abilities.

Realising the girls are in imminent danger, Cassie kidnaps them from the train to save their lives, though they initially see her as a threat. As Ezekiel hunts them across New York, Cassie gradually accepts her role as their protector. She uses her precognitive visions to anticipate his moves, repeatedly altering events to keep one step ahead. The group hides in various locations, including a diner and a fireworks warehouse, while Cassie tries to piece together her mother's past and the origin of her own powers.

Through research and conversations with her colleague Ben Parker, Cassie learns more about Ezekiel's background and about her mother's expedition. She comes to understand that her near-death experience activated latent abilities connected to the same spider species. Unlike Ezekiel, whose powers are physical and driven by fear of his prophesied death, Cassie's gift is psychic; she can perceive branching timelines and subtly shift outcomes.

As Ezekiel closes in, Cassie's visions become more expansive, showing possible futures in which the three girls grow into powerful spider-heroes. Julia is shown with psychic spider abilities, Anya with acrobatic combat skills and Mattie with enhanced strength. These glimpses of their future selves reinforce Cassie's determination to ensure their survival.

The climax takes place at an abandoned Pepsi-Cola sign factory during a Fourth of July celebration. Cassie foresees multiple deadly scenarios and repeatedly tests different actions in rapid succession, effectively rehearsing the fight in her mind. When Ezekiel attacks, she coordinates the girls' escape with precision timing based on her visions. In the chaos of collapsing fireworks scaffolding, Ezekiel is crushed and killed, seemingly fulfilling his own prophecy in an ironic reversal; his attempt to prevent the future directly causes it.

Cassie is gravely injured during the confrontation and loses her eyesight, but her psychic abilities expand further, allowing her to perceive the world through visions of the web of life and time. In the aftermath, she adopts a mentorship role toward Julia, Anya and Mattie, hinting at their eventual transformation into spider-powered heroes. The film ends with Cassie in a wheelchair, now fully embracing the mantle of Madame Web, calmly guiding the girls as she looks ahead into the vast network of possible futures, aware that this is only the beginning of a larger destiny.

Success Rate:  - 0.7

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Time Cut (5 Stars)

Netflix Thursday #46

Just when you thought the teen slasher genre has worn itself out, here's a highly original film that breathes new life into the genre. It does this by adding the element of time travel.

The film begins in 2024. Lucy is a teenage girl who lives in the shadow of her older sister Summer, who was murdered by a serial killer before she was born. Her parents make no secret of the fact that they gave birth to Lucy at a late time in their life to get a replacement for the daughter they'd lost.

Lucy finds a time machine in a barn that's been set to travel to 14th April 2003, two days before her sister's death. She sees this as a chance to prevent the killer murdering her sister. The problem is that if she saves Summer's life she'll never be born. But if she's never born, she won't be able to save Summer. The possible time paradoxes are mind-bending. Does time travel really work like that?

Potentially an intellectual film, "Time Cut" remains a thrilling teen slasher story. Wait for the surprises, which I didn't expect. An excellent film.

King of Beggars (3 Stars)

So Chan is the rich, spoilt son of a powerful general in late imperial China; he’s lazy and illiterate, but surprisingly skilled at martial arts. While pursuing a beautiful courtesan named Yu-shang he enters the imperial martial arts contest to win her hand in marriage. With his father’s help he cheats his way through the written part and wins the physical tests, but he’s exposed as illiterate at the last minute and accused of cheating. The emperor punishes him by stripping his family of their wealth and forcing him to live as a beggar.

Thrown into a harsh new life on the streets, So struggles until an old beggar he once helped teaches him humility and a mystical martial art called the Sleeping Arhat Skill. This is a fighting style that can only be used while asleep! When Yu-shang is kidnapped by a corrupt official with sinister plans against the emperor, So rallies the Beggars’ Gang by pretending to channel a legendary leader; he learns their secret techniques from an old manual and leads them on a daring mission. After saving Yu-shang and foiling the plot to assassinate the emperor, So is offered a reward but chooses to remain leader of the beggars; he and Yu-shang wander the land helping the poor.

The film mixes slapstick, action and wuxia elements in a story about growth, honour and unlikely heroism.

Woodwalkers 2 (4 Stars)

This is a sequel to "Woodwalkers" that takes place shortly after the events of the first film. Thankfully the young cast hardly seems to have aged in the last 18 months. Makeup works wonders.

It's a German film with German dialogue, but it's about a school for special children based in Wyoming. The children are all able to change themselves into animals. Or is it the other way round? They're animals who can change themselves into humans. Despite being many different types of animals, some of them natural enemies, they all get on with one another.

The central character is Jay once more, a puma. He manages to make contact with his family. They're all human-puma hybrids, but unlike him they prefer to remain in their animal form. Jay's father, in particular, doesn't trust humans.

Overall, "Woodwalkers 2" is an engaging continuation that respects its fan base while broadening its emotional and visual scope. The cinema was packed today, mostly with younger children. Oliver enjoyed it.

The Substance (5 Stars)

The Substance centres on Elisabeth Sparkle, a former Hollywood star whose career has withered as she ages. Once celebrated for her beauty, she is now dismissed, patronised and quietly erased by an industry that values women only while they remain young. Her life is reduced to routine, isolation and humiliation, culminating in her being fired from her long running television job on her fiftieth birthday.

In this moment of despair, Elisabeth is approached by a mysterious medical company offering an experimental treatment known simply as "The Substance". The promise is intoxicating; it will create a younger, improved version of herself. This new body will be flawless, energetic and desirable. The catch is strict and non negotiable. Elisabeth must alternate between her original body and the new one on a fixed schedule. They are not allowed to exist simultaneously. Balance must be maintained.

After taking the treatment, Elisabeth gives birth to Sue, a younger version of herself who immediately thrives in the spotlight. Sue becomes everything Elisabeth once was and more. She's confident, admired and quickly embraced by the same industry that rejected the older Elisabeth. As Sue's success grows, Elisabeth's resentment and dependence deepen. The boundaries between the two selves begin to erode as Sue increasingly resists giving control back.

What follows is a spiralling breakdown of identity, morality and physical form. The rules of the substance are violated and the consequences are grotesque. Their bodies deteriorate, merge and mutate as Elisabeth attempts to reclaim relevance and control. The film moves toward an extreme and deliberately excessive finale in which the cost of denying age, mortality and self acceptance becomes horrifyingly literal.

At its core, The Substance is not about vanity; it is about erasure. The film presents ageing as something society inflicts on women rather than a natural process. Elisabeth is not afraid of getting older in isolation. She's afraid of becoming invisible. The horror comes from the realisation that her value has always been conditional.

Sue represents the idealised female body as a product. She is not a true second self but a commodified version shaped entirely for consumption. Her rebellion is not empowerment; it's the logic of the system taken to its extreme. Youth, once created, refuses to relinquish space. The older self is expected to disappear quietly.

The film also critiques the language of self improvement. The substance is marketed as empowerment and choice, yet it demands obedience, sacrifice and self mutilation. Elisabeth believes she is taking control, but in reality she's submitting to a harsher form of exploitation, one that comes from within as much as from the outside world.

The escalating body horror mirrors Elisabeth's internal fragmentation. As she tries to split herself into acceptable and unacceptable parts, her body literally collapses under the contradiction. The grotesque excess of the final act is intentional. It refuses subtlety because the violence done to women by beauty culture is anything but subtle.

Ultimately, The Substance argues that the pursuit of eternal youth is a losing battle not because ageing is ugly, but because self rejection is corrosive. Elisabeth does not destroy herself by growing older. She destroys herself by agreeing with a world that tells her she should not exist as she is.

Success Rate:  + 2.3

Flammende Herzen (5 Stars)

If I describe this film's plot to you, you'll think it's a comedy. It's true, there are many ridiculous scenes, but the overwhelming atmosphere is of sadness.

The film was made in 1978. Peter Huber lives in Laufen an der Salzach, a small Bavarian town close to the Austrian border. He owns a small kiosk where he sells newspapers. Every day he goes home to his small apartment, where he lives alone. He has no friends. His only comfort is the music of Peter Kraus. Peter is obsessed with him. There are pictures of him all over his wall.

One day Peter wins a prize. Two weeks in New York. He stays with a German couple in Manhattan. To entertain him they take him to German culture centres. That's terrible! He wants to learn something about America. He already knows all there is to be known about Germany.

Peter rescues a young woman who's attempting to kill herself. He takes her home, and he's surprised to find that she has records of Peter Kraus, including "Blue Melodie", which is played in full. The woman is German. Karola Faber moved to New York from Kaiserslauten after marrying an American soldier, but she left him when he cheated on her. Since then she's been working as a stripper.

An awkward relationship develops between Peter and Karola. She likes him, but he's never had a girlfriend, so he keeps his distance.

On the insistence of his German hosts, Peter takes Karola to a Bavarian Oktoberfest taking place in Manhattan. Something he's never seen before? Poor Peter, he's being bombarded with fake Germany. But his luck is still good. He and Karola are chosen as the festival's Cornflower king and queen. They go on stage to sing, and they're surprisingly good. Then they receive their prize: a cow. They walk home leading a cow. Karola wants to take it to a slaughter house, but Peter doesn't want to kill it. What do you do with a cow in New York?

The story doesn't have a happy ending. Peter returns home to his lonely life.

Life is absurd. This film is absurd. I hope you'll like it. Unfortunately, it's never been released on DVD. It's occasionally shown on German television. I made enquiries, and I was told that the film will never be released because the company that owns the film is in limbo since the death of its owners. That sucks. Luckily you can find it on YouTube, in German, without subtitles.

Despite hardly ever being seen by anyone outside Germany, the film has a mythical status. The soundtrack album with the same name was recorded by the popular German guitarist Michael Rother. If the film were ever released it would be a big hit.

Iron Bodyguard (5 Stars)

Iron Bodyguard is a 1973 Mandarin-language historical martial arts drama directed by Chang Cheh and Pao Hsueh-li and produced by the Shaw Brothers Studio.

The film centres on Wang Wu (played by Chen Kuan-tai), a legendary swordsman and head of a bodyguard/security company in late Qing dynasty China. When Wang intervenes to stop corrupt imperial officers from unjustly arresting innocent men, he attracts the attention of Tan Sitong, a young scholar and reformer. The two form a friendship after Tan helps Wang fight off attackers, and Wang becomes aware of the broader political struggle unfolding in the empire.

Tan Sitong and other reform-minded officials are appointed to the government and attempt a series of reforms aimed at modernising the Qing state. Their efforts draw the ire of Empress Dowager Cixi, who views the reforms as a threat to her authority. She accuses reform leaders including Kang Youwei of subversion, prompting a crackdown on reformists.

As conservative forces close in, several reformers including Tan Sitong are captured and sentenced to death. Wang Wu and his allies attempt a daring rescue but are betrayed and overwhelmed. In the ensuing conflict Wang kills his betrayer but is fatally shot, and the reformers, including Tan Sitong, are executed.

The film blends martial arts set-pieces with political intrigue, using Wang’s personal journey and loyalty to friends as a way to explore themes of honour, loyalty, sacrifice and the price of political idealism.

The Hundred Days' Reform

The historical background of the story is the Hundred Days’ Reform of 1898, an episode in late Qing dynasty history when the Guangxu Emperor and his supporters attempted rapid modernising reforms.

Iron Bodyguard does not simply reference the Hundred Days' Reform as background colour; it actively builds its dramatic structure around recognisable historical moments, then reshapes them through Shaw Brothers genre logic. Each major political idea in the film is anchored to a concrete scene, usually filtered through the perspective of Wang Wu, a man who stands outside the bureaucracy yet is drawn inexorably into its collapse.

Reform as Conversation, not Policy

Historically, the Hundred Days' Reform was driven by documents, memorials and imperial edicts. The film translates this abstraction into dialogue driven scenes, most notably the early meetings between Wang Wu and Tan Sitong.

Their first extended conversation, following the street fight where they fend off attackers together, is crucial. Tan speaks passionately about national weakness, foreign encroachment and the need for moral renewal. Wang listens rather than lectures. This mirrors Tan Sitong's real world role as a philosophical reformer rather than an administrator. The film accurately frames him as a thinker whose ideas inspire others rather than as a man with direct political power.

By staging reform as something discussed in tea houses and private rooms, the film reflects a historical truth; the reform movement lacked a mass base and functioned largely through elite discourse. The warmth of these scenes also foreshadows the personal cost of political failure.

The Emperor as an Absence

The Guangxu Emperor appears briefly and at a distance, framed by palace architecture or separated from others by physical barriers. Historically he issued reform edicts but lacked military authority. The film visualises this weakness.

In the scene where court officials debate the reforms, the Emperor is silent for long stretches. Orders are read aloud, but real momentum is missing. This matches the historical reality that the reforms moved quickly on paper but slowly in practice.

The camera's refusal to centre the Emperor reinforces the idea that power lies elsewhere. When Empress Dowager Cixi later acts, she does so decisively and off screen at first, reflecting how her coup unfolded suddenly and with little public warning.

Empress Dowager Cixi and the Collapse of Reform

The film condenses the palace coup into a small number of scenes, but their structure mirrors the historical sequence closely.

One key moment occurs when Tan Sitong realises that Kang Youwei has fled. Historically Kang escaped abroad, leaving others behind. In the film this knowledge arrives quietly, in a dim interior scene rather than a dramatic announcement. Tan's response is calm acceptance rather than panic.

This reflects historical accounts of Tan's refusal to flee. His famous declaration that reform requires blood is not quoted directly, but its spirit is embodied in his decision to stay. The scene where Tan calmly prepares for arrest is one of the film's most historically grounded moments.

The Six Gentlemen as a Single Tragedy

Rather than presenting all six executed reformers individually, the film treats them as a collective presence. Arrest scenes are cross cut, reinforcing the idea of a coordinated purge rather than isolated punishment.

The executions themselves are not sensationalised. They are shown briefly and without elaborate choreography. This restraint aligns with the film's political seriousness and reflects the historical purpose of the executions; they were meant to send a message, not to glorify violence.

Tan Sitong's death is framed less as an end than as a moral turning point. Immediately after his execution, the film cuts back to Wang Wu, shifting focus from political martyrdom to personal responsibility.

Wang Wu and the Myth of Armed Resistance

This is where the film departs most clearly from strict historical record. There is no evidence that Wang Wu led armed rescue attempts against imperial forces. However the film uses these sequences to explore a historical question rather than to answer it.

The failed rescue attempt functions as a cinematic "what if". What if martial loyalty could have altered history? The answer the film gives is no.

The ambush scene is particularly telling. Wang and his allies are betrayed from within, echoing the real reform movement's internal divisions and lack of secure support. The gunshot that kills Wang is historically anachronistic but symbolically precise. Traditional martial skill is rendered powerless by modern weaponry, just as Qing China was militarily outmatched by foreign powers.

The Gun as History Intruding on Wuxia

The use of firearms against Wang Wu is not incidental. Throughout the film, combat is mostly hand to hand or blade based. Guns appear only at decisive moments.

Historically, one of the reform movement's key failures was its inability to modernise the military in time. By killing the martial hero with a gun rather than a sword, the film visually encodes this failure. Martial virtue alone cannot save a nation that refuses systemic change.

This moment links Wang Wu's personal fate to the political fate of the reforms. Both are overwhelmed by forces they cannot counter with tradition alone.

Loyalty, Honour and the Cost of Idealism

The final scenes, following Wang Wu's death, are quiet and reflective. There is no victorious survivor to carry on the cause. This reflects the historical aftermath of 1898; reform did not resume in earnest until years later and under very different conditions.

By ending on loss rather than triumph, Iron Bodyguard aligns itself with the historical consensus that the Hundred Days' Reform was not a heroic failure that immediately bore fruit, but a traumatic lesson paid for in blood.

The film's historical accuracy lies less in precise detail than in structural truth. Reform is hopeful, brief and crushed. Idealism inspires loyalty but cannot substitute for power. Individuals act bravely, but history moves remorselessly.