Dudz Amoncio

If the film aims to explore themes of imperialism and colonialism, then the use of Western mercenaries may be thematically appropriate. However, is it logical or practical within the story's context? It's hard to believe that a remote city official would have the financial means or political reach to hire foreign mercenaries. A more plausible choice would be employing local thugs—but doing so might undercut the film's broader critique of colonial influence. Another questionable narrative choice is the city official personally traveling to Bacurau to clear his name. If he’s the mastermind behind the violence, wouldn’t such a move be suicidal? It's difficult to believe a figure with so much to lose would risk walking into the very chaos he orchestrated. These narrative inconsistencies are significant and hard to ignore. Still, despite its flaws, the film remains a compelling and worthwhile experience—bold in theme, rich in atmosphere, and unafraid to provoke.

The film suffers from excessive sentimentality and a lack of originality. The theme feels recycled—Zhang Yimou explored similar territory with far more depth and artistry. Even the swordplay, while visually competent, offers nothing new or memorable. As a result, the film struggles to sustain emotional engagement. By the end, any sympathy or connection the audience might have felt is lost.

The film starts off with great promise, holding attention through its first half. However, by the end, the characters—particularly those played by Armie Hammer and Dev Patel—remain disappointingly underdeveloped. They come across more as caricatures than fully realized individuals. While they may be positioned as heroes, their actions lack weight, and they contribute little that feels truly meaningful. Armie’s character, in particular, feels wasted—pushed to the sidelines as the film shifts its focus almost entirely to the plot. Though the storytelling is technically well-executed, it ultimately lacks emotional depth and dramatic tension. There's little thrill or investment to carry the viewer through to the end. In the end, it’s a missed opportunity. The potential was there—but sadly, it wasn't fully realized. Sayang.

The film is so dull that by the end, it feels as if you haven't watched anything at all. It presents itself as a bold commentary on fascism, but the supposed cruelties and abuses are neither intense nor vividly portrayed—in fact, they’re barely present. Instead of showing us the horror, the film relies heavily on a narrator whose account feels distant and unreliable, stripping the narrative of urgency and emotional weight. The choice to shoot in black-and-white cinematography does little to enhance the experience. Rather than elevating the film into something profound or visually striking, it contributes to a sense of detachment and monotony. There’s little here that stands out as original, moving, or thought-provoking. As paying viewers, we expect not just to be entertained but to be engaged—intellectually or emotionally. This film fails on both fronts. What’s most frustrating is the sense that the filmmaker shows little regard for the audience’s experience. There’s no effort to connect, challenge, or even respect the viewer’s time. Ultimately, the film feels like an exercise in self-indulgence. It demands patience without offering much in return.

The film suffers from excessive simplification. It glosses over key aspects of Temujin’s transformation into a formidable warrior and strategist. We’re not shown how he was trained—how he mastered the sword, tactics, or the rigors of battle. Instead, the film diverts its focus to sweeping landscapes and scenic vistas, which, while visually pleasing, come at the expense of crucial character development. Equally overlooked is the process of how Temujin recruited his followers. The mass mobilization that would define his rise to power is left largely to the imagination. Most critically, the film fails to convey how people perceived and responded to his leadership. As viewers, we remain emotionally and intellectually distanced from the central force of his legend. That said, the film still has its merits. It's visually captivating and holds some value as an introduction to a powerful historical figure. But as a deeper exploration of Temujin’s rise, it falls short.

The film presents a rivalry that borders on the absurd. A king, by definition, holds absolute power—over personnel, resources, and decisions. He has the authority to create or destroy, command loyalty, and eliminate threats, no matter how powerful they seem. The idea that a general could control 80% of the army independent of the king is unrealistic. Soldiers ultimately fear and follow the true center of power. This is a universal truth across all nations and throughout history. To portray otherwise is either naive or disingenuous. The imbalance portrayed—between firearms and primitive weapons—further undermines the film’s credibility. It’s not a fair fight, and the audience is expected to suspend disbelief to a frustrating extent. Who is this supposed to convince? Regrettably, the filmmaker seems to lack a solid understanding of how governments and politics function. This is a story that should have been told by someone with deeper insight into real-world power dynamics. Narratively, the film is weighed down by excessive backstories that do little to support or advance the plot. Instead of enriching the story, they dilute its impact. The blocking is static and uninspired—actors often appear stiff, with little sense of movement or visual energy. This lack of directorial dynamism suggests laziness rather than artistic intent. Even more troubling is the absence of spies—an essential element in any tale of war and governance. As emphasized by Sun Tzu in The Art of War, a ruler cannot hope to win without intelligence networks. Depicting a king without spies is not just a creative oversight, but a fundamental flaw in the storytelling. Ultimately, the budget for this film could have been better spent on a more compelling and informed production. As it stands, watching this film feels like a waste of both time and money. If you haven’t seen it, rest assured—you’re not missing anything.

The movie may follow a familiar formula and be somewhat predictable, but that doesn't mean it's ordinary. It's beautifully crafted and exceptionally well-acted. If you're looking for a film that will make you laugh, cry, and then laugh and cry all over again—one that captures the beauty of humanity and the quiet magic of the world—this is it. It's heartfelt, sincere, and absolutely worth your time.

This film borders on the absurd. While we naturally sympathize with the protagonist and despise the antagonist for the chaotic violence, the villain—a psychopath—is portrayed as a loser from the start. The power dynamics feel unbalanced, especially since the protagonist is clearly an expert in combat. If the filmmaker aims to create a compelling revenge story, the protagonist and antagonist need to be more evenly matched to make the conflict believable and engaging.

I could only aspire to be like Apu, even though I recognize this is a good film. In the first installment of the trilogy, Apu is born into poverty. And in this final chapter, he remains poor and destitute. I had hoped that Apu would have learned from his humble beginnings and grown into a more productive, fulfilled person—but he hasn’t. It’s a sad and heartbreaking reality. Ultimately, as an audience, we’re left without a clear sense of hope or useful lessons.

The film isn’t perfect. Its reflective nature sometimes borders on repetitive, as characters frequently launch into lengthy monologues about their lives, turning much of the story into exposition—largely because there’s little visible conflict driving the narrative. This might be an intentional reflection of the lives of modern-day pioneers in America, focusing less on poverty or homelessness and more on the choices people make. Still, I suspect there are deeper issues beneath the surface—ones the film hints at but doesn’t fully explore, leaving much to the viewer’s imagination. That said, the film is far from a bad experience. The cinematography is superb, beautifully capturing the interplay of light and shadow, alongside stunning landscapes. Frances delivers a solid presence, though this isn’t her most powerful dramatic role. My advice? Get a good night’s sleep before watching—it requires quiet attention.