Gema MH

Spencer desperately wants to be an art-house psychological drama, but instead plays like a claustrophobic melodrama with all the depth of a perfume commercial. The story takes Diana’s fateful Christmas with the royal family and inflates it into a suffocating, hallucinatory “fairy tale gone wrong” that hammers its symbolism so loudly it practically beats you over the head with the pearls, the pheasants, and the endless trapped-princess imagery. Subtle it is not. And then there’s Kristen Stewart. Her performance is less Princess Diana and more a jittery, lip-biting parody. Every line is whispered like a secret (at some point I had to put on subtitles to even understand what she was saying), every pause stretched into eternity, every glance at the camera begging for awards applause. Instead of a nuanced woman crushed by duty, we get a twitchy mannequin staggering around corridors like she’s auditioning for The Crown: Horror Edition. The overacting is so relentless it distracts from everything else: by the second act, you’re not thinking about Diana’s suffering, you’re wondering if Stewart is going to sprain her neck from all that dramatic head-tilting. The irony is that Spencer sets itself up as a bold, “different” take on Diana, yet ends up stripping her of humanity. The plot reduces her to a walking metaphor -imprisoned, unraveling, doomed-while Stewart turns her into a collection of nervous tics. The result is a movie that’s more exhausting than tragic, and more embarrassing than enlightening.

Excellent birth control movie. There is no debate to be had - nature vs. nurture - in this particular story, in the way these characters were set up: the kid was obviously 100% psychopathic. There is nothing this poor woman could have done to help him not be one, short of ab&rting him. However, both she and the husband (who was clueless and absolutely ignored her pleas) could have also helped with avoiding the end result of his psychopathy by locking him up for life and throwing away the key. That would be the only thing that could have prevented this.

***SPOILERS**** Oldboy isn’t some profound meditation on revenge - it’s a sleazy carnival trick dressed up as art. A glorified exercise in shock value. The hallway fight is “stylish” (a stylish video-game), but it’s all just foreplay for the film’s big gotcha: incest. That’s the grand twist we were supposed to be floored by. Not clever, not deep, just revolting. The movie practically leers at its own grotesqueness, daring you to applaud while it shoves the most taboo plot device down your throat. And the easily impressed and the self-described cinephiles apparently indulged. For the rest of us: instead of tragedy, it felt like a prank, a middle finger masquerading as philosophy. Characters? Barely sketches. Dae-su is portrayed less as a fully human man unraveling under captivity than a puppet for Park’s grotesque set-pieces. His antagonist, Woo-jin, is so cartoonishly operatic in his cruelty that his motivations come off laughably contrived, making the grand “fate and punishment” themes feel hollow. By the time the credits roll, you’re not haunted, you are not thinking “masterpiece.” You’re thinking, “Did I really just sit through two hours of trauma p&rn for that ending?” You are left uncomfortable, and not in a thoughtful way, more like you need a shower.

“Justice for Juicy!” What a character; I almost respect his commitment to the lie. The Truth About Jussie Smollett on Netflix drags us back through the infamous ‘hate crime that wasn’t,’ to allow Juicy Jussie to “tell his truth” (nice save Netflix). The last 1/4 of the movie takes a bizarre turn with two random ladies taking footage out of context, and inserting extraneous claims/character defamatory stunts against the brothers, police department, individual police officers (“did you know the police chief lied about drinking on the job years later?!? Aha! This must mean he lied about Jussie too!”). Two stars because some of it was even funnier than the Dave Chappelle bit.

First of all: some of the reviews here are simply concerning - if these people live in America this is what we call the enemy within. Just unreal. “Americanized view of the events”? Are you serious? I went into American Manhunt expecting a focused, gripping retelling of the Boston Marathon bombing and the tense manhunt that followed - and to be fair, it delivers on some of that. The pacing is tight, the real footage pulls you right into those days, and the buildup to the capture is well put together. There were some really heartfelt and tough-to-watch interviews with victims, many maimed physically and/or emotionally. The student kidnapped by the bombers whose car they stole to try to get to NYC and repeat the massacre there, is an unsung hero and survivor, I loved his interview. But there’s something that really bothered me. The series gives a surprising amount of screen time to two Muslim men, one who was friends with the younger Tsarnaev brother and another who was their imam. These weren’t investigators, survivors, or even people directly involved in the chase. Except, in fact, that in my view and listening to what the friend himself says, he HAD to know that guy on TV was his friend, there is no way he did not. And yet, he said nothing, notified no one…that’s accessory to crime in my book. When any of these two characters spoke, it wasn’t to reflect on the horror of what happened, or the innocent lives lost and ruined. Instead, most of their commentary was about how THEY FELT they were treated in the aftermath (i.e. “Islamophobia”, that elusive little word that censures all criticism of an ideology - not a race, not a people, but a religion). It felt absolutely misplaced and tone-deaf. These were people close to the perpetrators, speaking almost entirely about their own discomfort, while saying very little -if anything- about the unspeakable acts committed against a crowd of everyday people just enjoying a race. That imbalance left a bad taste. It almost came across as if the real tragedy was how they were perceived, not the lives that were taken or shattered. It ended up pulling me out of the story and muddying the focus. The Boston Marathon bombing was a brutal act of terrorism, and the story here should’ve centered on the victims, the investigation, and the hunt - not on tangential interviews that shift sympathy away from where it belongs.

I finally got around watching Sinners and deeply regret I missed it in IMAX. It is a visually arresting film that draws you in with its evocative cinematography, haunting blues soundtrack, and layers of symbolism that evoke the mythic weight of Southern folklore. Every shot feels like it could be a painting: sun-drenched fields, flickering candlelight, moody shadows. The soundtrack is just as powerful, mixing haunting blues with surprising Irish folk influences (both music and tales i.e. vampires) that blend together beautifully. It’s an unexpected combo, but it really works and gives the film a unique, otherworldly vibe. There’s a strong spiritual undertone throughout, and in the character of Sammy, the film clearly draws from the legend of Robert Johnson—the blues guitarist who supposedly sold his soul to the devil at the crossroads. That myth weaves through the story in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, with lots of visual and symbolic nods: snakes, fire, churches, and of course, literal crossroads. The performances are also quite enticing, in particular (for me) : Miles Caton as Sammie/Preacher Boy, Delroy Lindo as Delta Slim, Jack O’Connell as Remmick, and Hailee Steinfeld as Mary (she made an incredible vampire! So talented). Im not a Michael B Jordan fan - he was good here but he never quite lands it for me and this was no exception. For all its atmosphere and style, Sinners doesn’t quite hit as hard emotionally. The characters feel more like ideas than fully developed people, and the plot stays a bit surface-level. There are glimpses of deeper themes -guilt, temptation, redemption- as well as characters, but they never really get explored in a satisfying way. Just an example: the Choctaw people, mentioned in the legends of the opening scene and briefly inferred to be vampire hunters, are never mentioned again, no background, nothing. You’re just left wanting to know more about all of these people and what drives them. The story hints at emotional depth and moral conflict, but never quite commits to digging into them. By the time the credits roll, you’re left admiring the artistry, but still hungry for a more resonant emotional payoff and deeper story. I really liked it, but didn’t love it.

Brokeback Mountain is a quietly devastating film about love, repression, and the unbearable weight of societal expectations. Set against the hauntingly beautiful backdrop of the American West, the film follows Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) - two men who fall in love during a summer of sheep herding in Wyoming and spend the next two decades grappling with that love in a world that won’t accept it. Heath Ledger delivers a masterclass in restrained emotion. His Ennis is almost painfully closed off, a man shaped by fear, silence, and survival. Jake Gyllenhaal’s Jack is the emotional counterweight: more open, more hopeful, and in many ways, more tragic because of it. Their chemistry is real and raw, and the film doesn’t shy away from the pain of their situation. Jack reaches out again and again for a life that could have been - hopeful, desperate, and ultimately crushed by the world around him. Their love feels real, and so does the pain of not being able to live it openly. But what really makes Brokeback Mountain hit even harder is how it doesn’t just center on the suffering of the two men: it quietly but clearly shows how their secrecy and double lives hurt others. Michelle Williams is heartbreaking as Alma, Ennis’s wife, who suspects the truth and is slowly broken by it. Anne Hathaway’s Laureen, Jack’s wife, is more reserved, showing the kind of coldness that comes from knowing you’re married to a man who’s never fully present. The wives aren’t just side characters, they’re casualties of a system that forces people to hide who they are. The secrecy, born out of fear and societal pressure, becomes its own kind of violence. It traps everyone involved, and the film is unflinching in showing how that pain spreads. Ang Lee directs with a subtle hand, letting silence and long pauses say what dialogue can’t. The cinematography is breathtaking, all vast landscapes and lonely skies, the kind of beauty that feels both freeing and isolating. There’s a sense that there could’ve been another life, another ending…but that dream stays just out of reach. This isn’t a typical love story. It’s slow, introspective, and full of ache. But it’s unforgettable. Brokeback Mountain captures what it means to be trapped by fear, to live only fragments of a life, and to carry love like a wound. And it reminds us that the consequences of silence don’t just fall on those who stay quiet, they echo outward, hurting everyone in their orbit.

Netflix’s American Manhunt is a gripping, well-produced look at the decade-long search for Osama bin Laden. Even though the ending is well-known, the series still manages to feel tense and revealing. It’s part spy thriller, part political deep dive, and part moral reckoning. The show does a great job of breaking down the intelligence work, close calls, and inter-agency drama that led to the 2011 raid. It includes voices from CIA analysts, SEAL Team members, journalists, etc. There’s a section that seemed a bit forced and annoying to me. Some of the intelligence officers (in particular 2 of the 3 women interviewed, who show their face, and 1 man) clearly want to distance themselves from the post-9/11 “enhanced interrogation techniques” (aka t&rture), insisting they opposed it from the beginning and gained nothing from it. It comes off a little convenient in hindsight — especially considering that some intel gained from those interrogations did help point toward Abu Ahmed, bin Laden’s courier - and they do point this out, in passing, towards episode 3. They were definitely able to gather the importance of this character from either info or deflection from by prisoners. The series doesn’t shy away from that fact entirely, but it also doesn’t fully grapple with the ethical mess. In the end, we’re left with the hard truth that this horrible thing might have contributed something, but at a massive moral and strategic cost — one we only fully recognized later. Despite that, American Manhunt is thoughtful and compelling. The final chapter - once they locate the courier, the collection of intel around the compound and its inhabitants, the preparation, and the final execution of the raid by Seal Team 6, are absolutely thrilling. It’s not just a victory lap — it raises real questions about what it took to get bin Laden, and whether it was all worth it (it was; though if someone deserved the enhanced interrogation technique, that was him). If you’re into modern history, intelligence ops, or just want a smarter take on a familiar story, it’s definitely worth a watch.

Anora is the kind of movie that lures you in with the idea of a whirlwind romance but quickly makes it clear — at least for the cynics amongst us — this isn’t “love” a la Pretty Woman, it’s a transaction. Ani (Mikey Madison) is a Brooklyn strip&er who gets swept up in what seems like a fairy-tale escape when she marries the spoiled and aimless son of a Russian oligarch. But let’s be real: he’s chasing lust, and she’s chasing a way out of the strip&ing world, whether that means money, security, or just something bigger than what she’s known. She’s less a hopeless romantic and more a materialistic Cinderella, aware that glass slippers don’t pay the bills. The first half of the movie is fast, chaotic, and full of the kind of bad decisions you can’t look away from — plenty of alcohol, drugs, and (likely unprotected) s&x. But as things spiral, the tone shifts—sometimes smoothly, sometimes not. The film teeters between screwball comedy and harsh reality, and while it mostly works, there are moments where it feels a little uneven. This is not a love story—it’s about survival, class, and the blurry line between self-interest and desperation. Madison is good - she made Ani feel both cunning and vulnerable. I liked the actor who played Igor as well - quietly empathetic and the only one who showed some respect for Ani. However, overall, I was rather underwhelmed by this film. Not sure if these performances, let alone the movie, are Oscar-worthy.

**Potential spoilers** Companion is a sleek, unsettling, though very entertaining, sci-fi thriller that blends psychological horror with sharp social commentary. It caught me off guard. It starts off feeling like your typical slow-burn thriller, but by the end, it hits you with a seriously unsettling realization. Set in a future where artificial companions are commonplace, the film explores what happens when technology meant to ease loneliness begins to erode the line between intimacy and control. The movie doesn’t beat you over the head with it, but as things unravel, you start seeing just how messed up it could be to create AI just to serve us. Are these “companions” actually here to help—or are they just slaves we’ve programmed to smile through it? Sophie Thatcher is great— she really makes you feel her confusion, fear, and frustration as things start to go sideways. The whole vibe of the movie is tense and eerie, like something’s off but you can’t quite put your finger on it until it’s too late. It really dives into how cruel people can be when they feel powerful, especially when the “other side” can’t fight back—or isn’t supposed to. If you like your sci-fi thoughtful, a little creepy, and laced with moral discomfort, definitely give this one a watch. A haunting and not too far-fetched look at what could happen when we give machines feelings but no freedom.