Obsession (4 Stars)

This is the first film in the Stuttgart Nights Festival.

This year the Nights Festival is being held once more in the Metropol cinema, which I see as a mixed blessing. On the one hand it has a larger screen than the Innenstadt cinemas. On the other hand it's poorly organised. The season ticket holders have to sit in the sixth and eighth rows; why not the seventh? The snacks in cinemas are always expensive, but Metropol's prices are extortionate for the small selection that they offer. Before the film started there was an announcement in the foyer that food and drink bought elsewhere was not allowed in the cinema, because it would make other cinema patrons jealous if they saw us eating our own food. That doesn't make sense. When festivals were held in the Innenstadt cinemas it was expressly stated that food could be brought in because of the long days. When I went in this evening my bag was checked, and I was sent to put my bag in the cloakroom. The next few days I'll have to put my snacks in my coat pockets, where they won't be found.

"Obsession" is an enjoyable, though not perfect opening film. It's a supernatural horror film. It's about a young man called Bear who's had a crush on a woman called Nikki since high school. Now she works in the same store as him, but he still hasn't found the courage to ask her out. She's planning to move to another town, so he's desperate. He tries another method; he buys an item called a One Wish Willow, which allows him to make a single wish for anything he wants. Only $6.99. That's a bargain! He wishes that Nikki will love him until the day he dies. Yes, that works. The same day after work she invites him home. She can't get enough of him. But as the days go by, we see that her love has become an obsession. She kills any other girl who comes close to him.

The film starts slowly, but after the first half hour I was amazed. The jump scares are used effectively, which is something I can rarely say. I would have given the film five stars, if the final 15 minutes hadn't disappointed me.

It's still a reasonable opening film. Let's hope the next films are better.

The Eight Hundred (3 Stars)

"The Eight Hundred" is a spectacle that's easy to admire and harder to fully love. Directed by Guan Hu, it dramatises the defence of the Sihang Warehouse during the early stages of the Second Sino-Japanese War; 452 Chinese soldiers hold out against 20,000 Japanese forces for four days while watched by civilians across the river. It’s a premise loaded with tension and moral weight, and at its best, the film delivers both in bursts of striking intensity.

Visually, it’s often astonishing. Shot for IMAX, the scale is overwhelming; explosions tear through the warehouse, bodies pile up in grimly choreographed waves, and the Suzhou Creek becomes a symbolic divide between courage and complacency. There’s a raw physicality to the combat that recalls "Saving Private Ryan", though without quite matching its emotional precision. The sound design, too, is thunderous and immersive; you don’t just watch the battle, you feel battered by it.

Where the film struggles is in its storytelling. For a narrative centred on sacrifice, the characters remain frustratingly indistinct. A handful of soldiers are given backstories or personality traits, but most blur into a collective mass of heroism. Compare that to the careful individualisation in "Dunkirk", where even minimal dialogue is enough to carve out distinct identities; here, the emotional stakes feel diluted because you're rarely anchored to a single perspective for long.

The film's cross-river structure – soldiers fighting on one side, civilians observing on the other – is a compelling idea that never quite coheres. The civilian scenes often drift into melodrama or symbolism that feels heavy-handed, undercutting the immediacy of the battle. A more disciplined intercutting approach, or a tighter focus on one or two civilian characters, might have created a stronger emotional bridge between the two worlds.

There's also a tonal inconsistency that holds it back. At times, "The Eight Hundred" leans into gritty realism; at others, it embraces near-mythic patriotism, complete with slow-motion hero shots and swelling music. Neither approach is inherently flawed, but the film doesn't reconcile them. A clearer commitment to one tone, or a more careful blending of the two, would have made the narrative feel less conflicted.

If it could be improved, the most obvious change would be a sharper focus on character. Following a smaller core group of soldiers, giving them clearer arcs, and allowing quieter moments between the chaos would heighten the impact of their eventual sacrifices. The battle scenes are already powerful; what's missing is the emotional thread that makes those scenes linger.

Even so, it remains an impressive achievement. Few modern war films attempt this scale, and fewer still sustain it for over two hours. It's a film that commands respect, even as it leaves you wishing it had trusted its human story as much as its spectacle.

Success Rate:  + 3.8

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The Life of Chuck (5 Stars)

Every now and then a film is made that's truly original. Not often, but it happens. The best film of 2025 was doubtlessly "The Life of Chuck". Told backwards, the film shows the key incidents in the life of Charles Krantz, nicknamed Chuck. He lived, he danced, he died. That's something that could be written on my gravestone. It wasn't written on Chuck's gravestone, because when he died the world ended.

Other reviewers tackle the question of whether the world really ends in the film. Is the third part of the film just the imagination of a man lying in a hospital bed dying of a brain tumour? Personally, I don't think the question should be asked. Walt Whitman wrote, "I am large. I contain multitudes". He wrote it about himself, but it applies to everyone, and in the context of the film it applies to Chuck. When Chuck dies at the young age of 39, the universe dies with him.

The film wasn't very successful at the box office, which is sad. It should have been seen by more people. I don't think it was a problem that people didn't understand the film, they just didn't go to the cinema to see it. I've spoken to friends who I'm sure would have liked it, but they didn't go. They didn't know what the film was about. One friend thought it was a film about music. Another assumed it was a horror film, because it's based on a Stephen King story. It's not a horror film. It's a science fiction film and a deeply philosophical film.

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Ambulance (4 Stars)

Michael Bay's "Ambulance" is a loud, breathless exercise in controlled chaos that succeeds on its own terms. It takes a simple premise, a desperate bank robbery gone wrong, and stretches it into a near two-hour chase sequence that rarely lets up.

The standout feature is, unsurprisingly, the driving. The film's lengthy car chases are relentless, jittery and often astonishingly staged, with Bay turning Los Angeles highways into a shifting maze of ambulances, police cruisers and military response units. The camera rarely sits still; drones, dash cams and sweeping aerial shots create a constant sense of motion that borders on overwhelming but feels deliberately so.

Plot and character work are minimal, which is fine here. "Ambulance" is less interested in motivation than momentum, with Jake Gyllenhaal and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II driving much of the tension through escalating panic and strained brotherhood dynamics. It's scrappy rather than deep, but that suits the film's stripped-back survival structure.

It won’t convert anyone who finds Michael Bay's style exhausting, but for viewers willing to go along with the noise and velocity, it delivers exactly what it promises: an extended, high-octane chase film that barely pauses to breathe.

Success Rate:  - 0.7

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Kill Bill (5 Stars)

Oops I did it again. I went to see "Kill Bill" for a second time in two days. When I bought my tickets it seemed necessary, because it was claimed it would never be released on disc. Quentin Tarantino has  changed his mind, fortunately. But it was still good to see the film again.

One recent change to the complete film that wasn't in the 2011 version shown at the Cannes Film Festival is a 12-minute after-credits scene, called "Kill Bill: The Lost Chapter". It's a fully animated sequence featuring Gogo's sister Yuki. It doesn't really belong to the film, especially not at the end. When I own the film on disc I'll probably watch it separately, not tagged on to the end.

One thing that amused me tonight was the man sitting in the seat next to me. I always respect people who go to the cinema alone, like me, not with their partners or friends. It shows that they take films seriously. This man was different. During the fight scene in the House of Blue Leaves he covered his eyes every time a head or an arm was chopped off. Someone should have warned him that it would be so violent.

Kill Bill (5 Stars)

Finally! I've waited 22 years to see this film. "Kill Bill" was originally released as two films in 2003 and 2004. Quentin Tarantino re-edited the two films into a single film in 2011, but it was only released in Japan. In December 2025 it was finally shown in America at a few select cinemas and minor re-editing. Conflicting statements were made, possibly deliberate misinformation to raise expectations among film fans. First Tarantino said the film would only be shown in cinemas and not be made available for home viewing on disc or streaming. That was depressing. Then it was said that it would be released on Blu-Ray, but not streaming. Ideal! For me, at least. Then I was surprised to see that it was dropped onto Amazon Prime today, without prior announcement.

My local cinema was only showing the film twice, today and tomorrow. I bought tickets for both days. Then, last Monday, they announced that it would be lengthened to four days, probably because both days were sold out.

The main changed are

1. Oren Ishii's origin story is lengthened.

2. The fight scene in the House of Blue Leaves is in colour throughout, not partially black and white.

One small change that I noticed immediately was that the Klingon proverb was missing from the opening scene. I've read theories why Tarantino edited it out, but I miss it.

The official name of the film is "Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair". Giving it that name makes it sound like two films that have been stitched together. I prefer to call it "Kill Bill", which emphasises that it's a single film that was chopped in two.

From Dusk Till Dawn (5 Stars)

"From Dusk Till Dawn" is a film that practically splits itself in half; a crime thriller mutates into a vampire siege, and the clash between its two central families sits right at the heart of that transformation.

On one side we have the Gecko brothers, Seth and Richie; criminals defined by chaos, instinct and a complete absence of moral restraint. George Clooney plays Seth as cool and calculating, a man who understands violence as a tool, while Quentin Tarantino makes Richie something far more disturbing; impulsive, erratic, and barely tethered to reality. Their family bond is real, but it's warped; loyalty exists, yet it's rooted in survival rather than care.

In stark contrast stands the Fuller family; a broken but fundamentally decent unit led by Jacob, a former preacher struggling with his faith after personal tragedy. Harvey Keitel gives Jacob a weary gravity, a man trying to hold his children together even as his beliefs crumble. Kate and Scott represent a more recognisable familial dynamic; tension, grief and affection all coexisting in an uneasy balance. Where the Geckos are united by crime, the Fullers are held together by something more fragile; the remnants of love and moral responsibility.

The early part of the film thrives on this contrast. The Geckos dominate through fear, forcing the Fullers into submission, yet there's a quiet sense that the balance could shift at any moment. The Fullers' decency becomes a kind of resistance; they endure rather than retaliate, and that endurance gives them a moral strength that the Geckos lack.

When the film pivots into horror at the Titty Twister, the dynamic evolves rather than disappears. Faced with a supernatural threat, the distinction between the families begins to blur. Survival becomes the common ground; Seth's ruthlessness suddenly has value, while Jacob's moral compass regains purpose. The Geckos' amorality and the Fullers' ethics, once opposed, now function as complementary traits in a fight neither family could survive alone.

What makes "From Dusk Till Dawn" compelling isn't just its genre switch; it's how that shift forces both families to confront what defines them. The Geckos, stripped of control, reveal flickers of reluctant cooperation, while the Fullers, pushed to extremes, discover a capacity for violence they would never have chosen.

By the end, the film suggests that family is less about moral purity and more about what people are willing to do for one another under pressure. The Geckos start as predators and the Fullers as victims, but the night reduces everyone to the same basic instinct; survive, protect, endure. It's in that levelling that the film finds its strange, blood-soaked unity.

Success Rate:  + 1.1

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Two Orphan Vampires (5 Stars)

"Two Orphan Vampires" is Jean Rollin's 18th film, made in 1997. It's one of his last films, but in many ways it's his most typical film. It barely pretends to belong to the horror genre, even as it trades in vampires, blood and nocturnal wandering. The action, if it can even be called action, is downplayed. The film is like an abstract painting, creating emotions in everyone who watches it.

The film follows two blind girls who live in an orphanage. What the nuns don't know is that they're only blind in the daytime. At night they can see everything in a blue tint. They sneak out of the orphanage to drink blood, sometimes human blood, sometimes animals. They're not vampires in the conventional sense. They frequently live and die. How often they remain dead varies, but they always claw their way back to the surface. Dying is a time of rest for them. They've lived for a long time. In the 15th Century they were worshipped as Goddesses by the Aztecs. In a single ceremony 40,000 men were laid out for them to feed, all of them volunteers. Towards the end of the film we find out that they're much older, and there are hints that they've existed since the beginning of time, before Adam and Eve.

Rollin’s pacing is always languid, but here it feels almost defiant. Scenes linger far beyond what mainstream storytelling would allow; conversations drift, actions feel ritualistic, and long stretches pass where nothing much happens in a traditional sense. Yet this isn’t indulgence for its own sake. The slow rhythm creates a kind of trance state, pulling the viewer into the same suspended existence as the protagonists; caught between day and night, blindness and vision, innocence and predation.

The two leads carry the film less through dialogue than presence. Their performances are deliberately stylised, almost affectless at times, which only adds to their otherworldly quality. They don’t behave like typical horror figures, nor like realistic teenagers; they exist somewhere in between, embodying Rollin’s recurring fascination with fragile, doomed femininity. There’s an undercurrent of sadness running through everything they do, as though their vampirism is less a curse than an extension of an already isolated existence.

Visually, the film is steeped in a muted, dreamlike atmosphere. Rollin contrasts the drabness of daytime interiors with the freedom of the night, where cemeteries, empty streets and shadowy corners become spaces of strange beauty. His usual gothic imagery is present but subdued, less about spectacle and more about texture and feeling. The result is a Paris that feels detached from reality; familiar, yet ghostly and removed.

Anyone approaching "Two Orphan Vampires" expecting tension, scares or even a clear narrative arc will likely come away frustrated. This is a film that resists those pleasures almost entirely. But for those willing to meet it on its own terms, it offers something rarer; a melancholy, dreamlike meditation on isolation, identity and the strange freedoms of the night. It’s less a story you follow than a mood you inhabit, and it lingers precisely because it never fully resolves into something concrete.