If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Wes Anderson’s latest feature film, “The Phoenician Scheme,” looks and feels identical to the modern auteur’s recent output, aesthetically and tonally aligned with “The French Dispatch” and “Asteroid City.”
Unafraid to double down on his increasingly ornate style, Anderson is responsible for the single most recognizable cinematic voice of this generation — a voice that has granted him complete creative freedom. Some consumers claim that such reluctance to deviate from familiar territory is unambitious, rendering his work an annoying, even tiresome self-mockery.
But until this artistic marriage drops something blatantly vapid like its critics claim, I will continue to marvel at a master at work, consistently churning out gorgeous, delicate work worthy of the legacy on its shoulders. Why deviate from a winning recipe?
“The Phoenician Scheme” is not top-tier Anderson, plagued by a meandering story and cold delivery that takes some getting used to. It doesn’t possess the warm and relatable emotional resonance of his earlier work. Still, it checks nearly every other box, throwing all that trademark Andersonian whimsy and visual elegance at the wall to craft a breezy, hilarious and slightly cartoonish version of a product we’ve come to love.
Like many Anderson productions, “The Phoenician Scheme” employs a laundry list of A-list actors, including Tom Hanks, Scarlett Johansson and Benedict Cumberbatch to name but a few. However, most inclusions here are minor, sporadic appearances that serve the scheming of a primary trio of characters.
The spotlight is on Zsa-zsa Korda (Benicio del Toro), a reckless business magnate, who appoints his sole daughter and nun, Liesl (Mia Threapleton), as the heir to his estate. Accompanied by Bjorn (Michael Cera), a Norwegian tutor and entomologist, the father-daughter duo embark on a financial enterprise to fund a sweeping infrastructure project.
Such a condensed central roster was a refreshing sight for Anderson, crafting a more intimate climate to develop its central relationships. Korda and Liesl’s father-daughter dynamic is the emotional core keeping the film grounded amid a swashbuckling escapade. Both are deadpan, unfeeling individuals navigating what it means to love and care for someone of conflicting core values.
Del Toro must confront his questionable and unethical dealings that have isolated him from much of the world in a contemplative leading-man arc akin to Bill Murray’s turn in “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.” Korda’s many near-death experiences transport him to a heavenly, black-and-white trial, where he comes to grips with a tarnished legacy unworthy of an afterlife or his daughter’s love.
The daughter of Kate Winslet, no less, Threapleton delivers an icy, endearing performance. Her chaste and innocent ways are tested in the hands of her tempestuous father and their many bizarre encounters. Through Liesl, Anderson examines the merits and dueling moralities of organized religion.
The same institutions that unleash hate and deny alternative modes of being provide people with the comfort and security to continue on. For Liesl, investment in God does not mean complete investment in the Bible, but a means to ground herself and achieve purpose in an unforgiving world.
Although Cera’s bashful comedic ways feel surgically designed to collaborate with Anderson, this is their first partnership and it won’t be the last. Bjorn is the standout performer through and through, babbling with an outwardly cartoonish Scandinavian accent. Expect to laugh.
Visually, Anderson has once again outdone himself, sprinkling his signature geometrical camerawork and pastel colors all over the screen. It is truly a gift that keeps on giving — a palette I’ll never tire of unless stripped dry of substance. Maybe there is another step to take: perhaps a step back. But, for now, all we can do is sit back and enjoy a brand of filmmaking that will never be replicated.
As long as he keeps refining rather than reinventing, his films will continue to be both familiar comforts and artistic showcases.
“Before the sun went down, I think that was the best day of my life,” Sammie Moore said, reminiscing in his cousin’s eyes. Just for a few hours, strumming, dancing, laughing and loving in the Mississippi Delta, they were free.
Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” has quickly become a word-of-mouth phenomenon this spring, sinking its fangs deep into the cultural jugular. As buzz surrounding the film continues to spread viciously, prompting a return to IMAX screens later this month, its industry significance grows in tandem.
Although Coogler has amassed a serious artistic reputation over the years, the “Black Panther,” “Fruitvale Station” and “Creed” writer/director has never tackled an entirely original script. But as beautiful as it is to behold, “Sinners” represents much more than a talented filmmaker striking gold with his own pan; it proves inspired blockbuster cinema is an accessible dream supported by a salivating fandom. It reawakens the idea that big-budget spectacles with mass audience appeal can and should possess the chops for awards consideration. Believe the hype.
“Sinners” traces the surprise return of hotshot gangsters, the Smokestack Twins (Michael B. Jordan), to their humble Mississippi Delta origins. With the help of friends, family and lovers — past and present — they utilize their riches to open a juke joint in an old sawmill. What begins as a liberating night guided by blues and community devolves into a blood-soaked clash with an unforeseen evil.
Once again, Coogler takes advantage of big-budget funding and genre expectations, using thrilling scares and well-researched period work as a vessel for subtext. “Sinners” glues together past and present Black histories, exploring the troubling, constant dilemma between forced assimilation and controlled safety versus complete freedom. Music is the energizing force that invigorates the film to life, just as it is the healing, communal product that bridges together generation after generation of marginalized communities.
Ludwig Göransson’s outstanding score begins as a twangy, plucky ode to rural blues and evolves into an electric, monstrous soundscape. One second, you’re chilling on the porch vibing to some harmonica; the next, you’re drowning in a thunderous and pulsing evil — an elegant mix of classic and modern, light and dark.
The first act of the film is a masterclass in world-building, teeming with vim and intrigue, marinating in the calmness and anticipation shared before the grand opening. Coogler frames a dusty, sweltering landscape chock-full of old-timey personalities and gorgeous 1930s sets.
As the sun dips below the horizon line, overlooking endless cotton fields, the film transitions into the warmly lit juke joint, where chaos ensues. Coogler fully explores his confined environment, offering an unforgettable, surreal “oner” that incorporates sound, dance and costuming plucked from decades of music history.
Although the sudden shift into creature feature feels a tad jolting initially, the vampiric scares and gung-ho action are a joy to watch.
Seamlessly blended into the environment as two distinct individuals, Jordan confidently charms with a thick Southern drawl. Both Smoke and Stack feel very much their own, rather than two sides of the same coin, each stoic and vulnerable in different ways. Their love for each other permeates the entire runtime and fills the film’s emotional core.
Newcomer Miles Caton is a revelation as the twins’ younger cousin Sammie, a preacher boy fighting his father’s pleas to give up “Devil’s music.” His trench-deep voice is a suave contrast to his youthful ambition. When he picks up his guitar and hums a soulful tune, his voice bursts from the screen, curating moments I could relax in forever.
The supporting cast, including turns from Hailee Steinfeld and Wunmi Mosaku as the twins’ past love interests, is strewn with charismatic, hilarious and ferocious performances. Delroy Lindo, who was egregiously robbed of an Academy Award nomination for his role in “Da 5 Bloods,” perfectly inhabits Delta Slim, a drunken old head, local blues legend and loyal protector of his community. Jack O’Connell plays lead villain Remmick with an oddball edge. He’s creepy and goofy without feeling cliche.
“Sinners” is a cinematic behemoth — Coogler’s answer to an industry allergic to risk. It’s a genre-bending reckoning that howls with cultural memory — a fever dream stitched together by blood and blues. If one thing’s for sure, we’ll be talking about this one for a long time.
EUGENE, ORE. — The University of Oregon shone bright with cinematic passion on Thursday night as hundreds of students and faculty nestled into Lawrence 177 for a screening and Q&A with emerging Oscar-nominated director Sean Wang.
The “Dìdi (弟弟)” writer/director returned the following afternoon for a two-hour director’s masterclass, walking a select group of students through his creative process, breaking down scenes and spilling industry tea.
Presented by the Cinema Studies Department and hosted by Professor Michael Aronson, the two-day event was a part of the 10th Annual Harlan J. Strauss Visiting Filmmaker Series.
A product of Fremont, California, Wang began his career directing commercials at Google Creative Lab. His breakout short film, “Nǎi Nai & Wài Pó,” premiered at the South by Southwest Film Festival in 2023, gaining instant critical recognition. The short was later nominated for the grand prize, Best Documentary Short Film, at the 96th Academy Awards.
His feature directorial debut, 2024’s “Dìdi (弟弟),” exploded his intriguing rise to prominence, earning a smorgasbord of coveted honors including the U.S. Dramatic Audience Award at the Sundance Film Festival, and two Independent Spirit Awards. For young Ducks looking to burst onto the filmmaking scene, a live encounter with Wang presented an unmissable opportunity.
After a brief introduction, Thursday night’s festivities began with a screening of Wang’s 2021 short film “H.A.G.S.” — a snippet of his middle school years presented via old yearbook pages and retrospective phone calls. Dripping with nostalgia, confidence and personality, “H.A.G.S” explores the pitfalls of growing up as a child of immigrant parents — a natural progression into the tonally aligned “Dìdi (弟弟),” which screened immediately after.
One of the standout independent flicks of 2024, “Dìdi (弟弟)” tracks the life of Chris Wang, a 13-year-old Asian-American boy navigating social politics, girl trouble, MySpace and family drama in the summer of 2008. Wang stitches together an emotional rollercoaster of overwhelming awkwardness, relatable boyish struggles, friend group tomfoolery and code-switching. It is a painful reminder of our insecure intermediate years, and a warm love letter to the director’s hometown. Though not a memoir, “Dìdi (弟弟)” is sprinkled with Wang’s lived experiences.
Wang dissected the crux of the film, translating his young life into something relatable and digestible. “I developed a narrative muscle by the time we shot the movie,” Wang said. “I looked at real pieces of the world and my life, recontextualizing them in a way with rhythm, flow and narrative structure.”
Though broadly relatable on the surface, “Dìdi (弟弟)” dives into personal specificity, capturing the alienating sensation of Chris Wang’s experiences, tethered between Asian-American home life and the social expectations of American adolescence.
“I think that Asian-American writers, media and culture are starting to define that feeling of subtle ambivalence, of shame that Chris feels throughout the movie,” Wang said. “There’s nothing a 13-year-old boy is more scared of than his thoughts and stillness.”
Wang touched on the limitations he encountered as a first-time filmmaker: inexperience, minimal budget and untrained teenage actors. But for a film as quaint and personal as “Dìdi (弟弟),” such circumstances sometimes served as a blessing in disguise.
The film was shot entirely in Fremont, featuring homegrown actors plucked directly from their natural habitat. “The orthodontist in the movie is my real orthodontist,” Wang said. “There’s a lot of local pieces that I knew I could get for very cheap, or very free.”
In fact, Chris’s grandmother in the film is portrayed by Wang’s real-life grandmother.
To uphold that sense of raw authenticity and realness, Wang directed his teenage ensemble of first-time actors to improvise, using the script as a guide to capture a spontaneous, alive and documentary-like feel.
“I told them: forget everything you know about acting, and just be a kid,” Wang said. “Don’t try to talk to them like a thespian. Be a stupid, silly summer camp counselor.”
For UO freshman Ethan Yitzhaki, watching “Dìdi (弟弟)” and hearing from Wang was a cinematic experience like no other, laughing and learning alongside passionate peers. “This is why we make cinema,” Yitzhaki said. “This was my therapy.”
Friday’s masterclass provided an even deeper, exclusive descent into the making of the film and Wang’s technical progression, including a sneak peak into his time at the Sundance Directors Lab.
His assignment “World of Your Film” served as a loose guide to the DNA of “Dìdi (弟弟),” compiling clips from various works and Wang’s real-life that capture the essence of the then-upcoming project. “For my next movie, I’ll do this when I get bored and treat it as a Pinterest board,” Wang said.
Later, Wang broke down the anatomy of the film’s opening scene and showcased a strung-together rough draft made exclusively for the Sundance Directors Lab — the first time lead’s Izaac Wang and Shirley Chen worked together in person.
Finally, Wang discussed his “Dìdi (弟弟)” screenwriting process, which he constantly revisited for short stints at a time between various jobs. “When I would go off and do other things, I had a rod in my head, where if I saw something funny I would jot down notes,” Wang said. “By the time I went back to writing, I had a bunch of random notes and observations that could live in our movie.”
The big takeaway: it takes a village. A director’s vision is nothing without the mentorship and support of filmmakers at the next level.
For UO students, Wang is just that, offering students a clear, unfiltered look at what it takes to collaborate and build a personal film with limited resources. Not only is he an incredible filmmaker, but a warm, funny and down-to-earth presence.
Juggling popcorn explosions, riotous yelling, live chicken sightings and police intervention, movie theater employees are in the thick of it. Rabid “Minecraft” fans and ravenous trend-seekers everywhere are dismissing common cinema courtesy for personal meme purposes.
Five months ago, the “Wicked” sing-along discourse prompted conversation concerning audience etiquette. Where some felt obligated to join the merriment or watch politely from afar, others found their movie experience obstructed by overgrown passion.
Another long-awaited adaptation of popular media, “A Minecraft Movie,” has ignited a new conundrum. With fans growing increasingly comfortable whipping out their phones mid-movie and unleashing calculated havoc, the line between spirit and disruption blurs. The question remains: where do we draw the line?
Although there are several scenes scattered throughout the movie that draw enthusiastic reactions, the culprit in question is the “Chicken Jockey.” In the back half of the film, Jack Black’s Steve warns Jason Momoa’s Garrett of an impending threat: a chicken mounted by a baby zombie. For avid “Minecraft” fans, it’s a neat reference to a game icon. For theater employees, it’s a sticky, unpredictable nightmare.
Some opt to regurgitate the line back to Black as if he can hear them reveling. Others go the extra mile, slinging popcorn and soda in the air, at the screen and to the floor. In even stranger cases, people try to mimic the scene, hoisting each other up on their shoulders or flaunting a living, breathing chicken for all to see. On occasion, it’s gotten so out of hand that folks have been kicked out of the theater and authorities have been contacted.
It’s a baffling situation. On one hand, the kids are having fun, and are actually going to the theater for a collective experience. They are enjoying a significant part of their childhood come to life on the silver screen — the cultural impact of “Minecraft” cannot be understated. But when you have loud, messy and obnoxious groups of teenage boys — sometimes grown men — breaking the sound barrier and trashing the place to record a trendy video, a problem arises.
The experience and safety of fellow audience members shouldn’t be ignored. The backbreaking clean-up duty thrust onto the employees should always be considered.
In a recent interview with Entertainment Weekly, “A Minecraft Movie” Director Jared Hess went out of his way to defend rambunctious fans and question police involvement. “It’s weird when you’re having too much fun and the cops get called,” Hess said. “I’m just glad people are making memories with their friends and families.”
To make matters worse, “A Minecraft Movie” is creatively bankrupt, heavily processed slop. If TikTok “brainrot” were a film genre, this would be the poster child.
From the eye-rolling pop-music needle drops, abundant references and clippable sound bytes, every minute feels intentionally curated for little kids to point their fingers at because they recognize it from social media.
Young kids will adore this movie. Their inevitable enjoyment is the best part. But for others, the most amusing aspect is coming to grips with its hilarious existence. It truly doesn’t feel like a real movie.
As hard as Black tries to smirk, yell and sing it to life, there isn’t anything rewarding enough to overcome the film’s glaring pitfalls. The story is generic and cliche, the female characters are underserved, the visual effects are in-over-their-head and the jokes are hit or miss.
It might capture the look and spirit of the game well, but it drastically undersells its creative potential. I don’t know if a good “Minecraft” movie is even possible, but this certainly doesn’t cut it.
Maybe, just maybe, all this theater hullabaloo would feel a tiny bit more earned if “A Minecraft Movie” wasn’t the epitome of uninspired, recycled big-IP filmmaking.
Throw on your sunglasses and swimsuits because television’s most chaotic vacation dramedy has planted its tangled roots in the monkey-laden jungles and rocky coastal waters of Thailand.
Mike White’s Emmy-winning anthology series, which made its HBO debut in 2021, quickly ascended to television royalty. Originally a limited series, the show expanded its stay with an all-new cast (save Jennifer Coolidge) in 2022’s Italian-set second season. Sporting another absorbing, all-star ensemble of loud personalities juggling familiar debauchery, season three remains near the peak of the decade’s best.
Like its predecessor, this chapter introduces a fresh cavalcade of wealthy characters converging at one of the White Lotus’ many worldwide luxury resorts. The opening scene foreshadows a violent climax sure to conclude with blood and body bags.
Hailing from North Carolina is the Ratliff family, dragged to Thailand by middle child and college senior Piper (Sarah Catherine Hook) for a thesis endeavor. The cocky eldest brother and all-around meathead Saxon (Patrick Schwarzenegger) teaches his impressionable younger brother, Lochlan (Sam Nivola), how to live deliciously. All the while, their narrow-minded, Lorazepam-addicted mother, Victoria (Parker Posey), remains comfortably ignorant as her husband, Timothy (Jason Isaacs), secretly grapples with the FBI and career implosion.
Revenge-seeking Rick (Walton Goggins), accompanied by much younger girlfriend Chelsea (Aimee Lou Wood), didn’t come to Thailand to relax or make nice, instead planning a climactic confrontation with the man that killed his father.
TV star Jaclyn (Michelle Monaghan) funds a girls trip with longtime best friends Laurie (Carrie Coon) and Kate (Leslie Bibb). Their toxic dynamic devolves into a gossip train of backstabbing, judgment and jealousy as the season unfolds.
Despite its anthological nature, watching previous seasons is becoming more crucial. Returning characters Belinda (Natasha Rothwell) and Greg ‘Gary’ Hunt (Jon Gries) reconvene and clash over their troubled history.
The cast is rounded out by Greg’s girlfriend, Chloe (Charlotte Le Bon), timid security guard Gaitok (Tayme Thapthimthong) and resort staffers Mook (Lalisa Manobal) and Valentin (Arnas Fedaravičius).
White’s writing is as biting and entertaining as ever, framing turbulent interpersonal relationships, family drama and rampant narcissism. Privileged personalities clash with culture shock as indulgence, enlightenment and regret seep into their glorified Thai experience.
Saturated with scandal and revelry, including one climactic night of brotherly love, season three features the show’s most outlandish characters to date. Posey goes all out with a thick, kooky Southern accent. Her mannerisms and facial expressions mold a hilarious, unforgettable piece of character work.
Schwarzenegger’s Saxon is a detestable, nepotistic womanizer whom you love to hate. He’s supremely fun to watch and navigates one of the season’s most surprising arcs, realizing his hedonistic ways are only a harmful inhibitor toward the pursuit of genuine human connection.
The Ratliff story is absolute chaos — a looming nightmare — but they still feel authentic. They’re a spitting image of the privileged American family desensitized to a life of comfort they can never give up, doomed to suffer from the inequity they perpetuate. Timothy’s paranoid dejection and utter defeat culminate in a generational crashout.
The best-friend trio might just be my favorite troupe the series has yet to offer. Monaghan and Bibb lead a complex week of plastic, fabricated friendliness. As the odd-one-out, Coon turns in a career-best, often unhinged performance, showcasing the horrors of friendships built on judgement and jealousy. Every time these ladies sit down over dinner and a bottle of wine, you know somebody is about to catch a stray. When one is absent, you bet the other two will rip her to shreds.
Rick’s story can sometimes feel a bit aimless, almost serving as the season’s side quest. But it earns its inclusion once it reaches an adventurous apex, supported by an outrageous guest appearance from Oscar-winner Sam Rockwell. To top it off, the loveable, happy-go-lucky Wood and the standoffish Goggins have the season’s most endearing connection.
There are a lot of characters to keep track of. Not all of them have a ton to do. The resort itself feels like much less of a character this season, primarily due to a lack of attention on employees. Still, White does a fine job weaving plotlines and characters together, though a bit less cohesively than previous seasons.
The finale was a whirlwind of suspense and calamity well worth the wait. Not every character or plotline is particularly crucial to the teased climax, but they never have been. “The White Lotus” has always been about its characters and their intermingling journeys. Some of them change drastically; others remain the same. The results we’re left with are equal parts thrilling, tragic, satisfying and introspective.
“The White Lotus” is a big-budget show, and its technical side expresses that excellently — with some help from Southeast Asia’s stunning beauty. The music has always been a standout and remains so. Though the main theme from the previous seasons is sorely missed, composer Cristóbal Tapia de Veer assembles a fantastic collection of exotic sounds, calming and thumping. It’s a shame he won’t be returning for season four.
“The White Lotus” season three is exactly what I’ve come to expect from this show. As long as he’s got that brilliant pen, a healthy HBO budget and an inevitable lineup of fantastic actors, I see no reason why Mike White would ever need to switch up this formula. Though an increasingly evident hotspot for death and disarray, the White Lotus is always worth a visit. Let’s hope it doesn’t shut down anytime soon.
An overwhelming terror engulfed Willow Kasner. In 2023, the state of Oregon threatened to douse her beloved home, the sprawling Siuslaw National Forest, with the toxic herbicide 2,4-D. She had a PTSD attack, broke down and cried, reliving the desolating pain her tight-knit coastal community had suffered decades ago. “I thought this was done,” Kasner said.
Growing up among the towering old-growth trees of the Coast Range, Kasner became tautly bound to her curious surroundings. Every day, she investigated the South Beaver Creek Valley, uncovering endless moss-covered secrets while biking through untraveled gravel roads. Cool, moist winters blanketed her property in impenetrable fog, barely concealed from the harsh coastal winds battering nearby Seal Rock.
Months of endless rain cultivated a dense city of green ferns, soggy brown bark and roaring blue rivers abundant with wildlife. When the sun did come out, fighting through the salty marine layer overlaying a thick pine canopy, its glowing rays illuminated the lush forest floor. It was heaven on earth — a young adventurer’s paradise. Although she hadn’t seen the world yet, she knew this place was special.
During early childhood in the 1970s, industrial intervention shell-shocked her quaint Western Oregon community. Without warning, the U.S. Air Force unloaded an undisclosed quantity of Agent Orange across 350 acres of nearby timberland, infecting roads, streams and power lines in its path. Seemingly unconcerned by ramifications, their haphazard means of vegetation control developed into a damning chemical attack.
As time went on, matters would only intensify. Agent Orange had rooted its tendrils deep in the environment, harboring lethal, enduring consequences for locals.
“We had 13 miscarriages between neighborhood moms,” Kasner said. “One of our good friends, Melissa, died of three different kinds of cancer.”
Still a small child, Kasner witnessed the traumatizing power of unchecked authority. Families she had grown up with, attended school with and loved had been permanently disrupted by industrial negligence.
With a frighteningly similar ordeal looming over the forest’s future, there was no way she would let her community suffer again. Now a tenacious environmentalist and artistic activist, Kasner fights to protect her community from the same toxic threats that scarred her childhood.
Kasner participates in an interview, advocating against aerial spray in the South Beaver Creek Valley. Photo Courtesy: Willow Kasner
Kasner was born in Lincoln City and raised where the forest meets the sea: the dainty town of Waldport. As a sixth-generation Oregonian, her Pacific Northwest roots run ocean-deep, descending from loggers and farmers on both sides.
But she would quickly distance herself from her family’s resource extraction roots, instead following in the footsteps of her rebellious, environmentally-conscious mother. “She taught me how to love and live off the land,” Kasner said. “We recycled heavily, didn’t use plastics and only ate food from our property.”
Her health-oriented, alternative lifestyle established a young freedom to explore and a budding courage to defy. The Siuslaw became a vast childhood playground chock-full of curiosity and discovery. From the smallest ant to the tallest tree, the area’s health was just as critical as her own.
A flourishing love for the arts occupied the other half of her balanced upbringing. Beginning at age five, Kasner danced at the local studio and became involved in the theater community. She frequently attended her father’s live performances, who was an avid musician. “I grew up on stage,” Kasner said.“I got all that creativity from my dad.”
At 16, while attending Waldport’s tiny, 200-student high school, Kasner decided she wanted to join a “Youth for Peace” group. One small problem: Waldport didn’t have one. So, she formed her own. Early talking points included Nelson Mandela and banning South African Apartheid — everything she could do to immerse students in activism.
“A lot of people in our rural community didn’t seem to look outside their windows,” Kasner said. “I was trying to get people excited about what’s really going on in the world.”
Fellow Waldport sophomore Stephanie Alvidrez was instantly enamored by Kasner’s sheer individuality and appreciated her persistent drive to educate their shut-in community. Drifting in and out of each other’s lives ever since their initial classroom encounter, the two share an unbreakable bond built on shared values and common origins.
“She’s my tribal sister,” Alvidrez said. “We’re just like family.”
Even operating on a modest scale, Kasner’s early passion project taught her how to approach change. Progress doesn’t generate organically; it requires all gas and no brakes.
“When she finds something that is unjust, that is hurting the masses, she will take action,” Alvidrez said. “She puts 100% effort into whatever she’s doing.”
Though her first pursuit of activism attracted lifelong friends and broadened her secluded community’s recognition of global issues, Kasner understood her outspoken personality deviated far beyond the local norm.
“I was always the weird hippie kid,” Kasner said. “I was voted most likely to join the Peace Corps and go save Africa.”
But you typically have to go to college to join the Peace Corps. Like any other facet of her life, Kasner’s path shined elsewhere. It’s not that she couldn’t go to college; she was a straight-A student and finished third in her class. In reality, she could never convince herself to fill out the monotonous pages of scholarship paperwork, turned away by the tedious application process.
The early workings of her post-grad plan involved taking a year off to travel and get to know the world. One year turned into two; two turned into five. All too quickly, it seemed like she would never return to her humble, coastal beginnings.
Her life became defined by travel and spontaneity. She stayed in-state for a stint, working and living in Portland. It wouldn’t last. She hit the road, eventually settling in Arizona at a hotel restaurant before being unceremoniously fired.
She hopped in her little Honda CR-X with her kitty and cruised to Utah to attend a musical festival. She had nowhere to stay and slept in her car. The Beehive State wasn’t going to work either.
State by state and place by place, Kasner lived the nomad lifestyle in search of a more permanent destination.
Fortunes would shift when she attended a Rainbow Gathering — a temporary forest congregation emphasizing peace, harmony, freedom and respect.
While forming refreshing connections with like-minded hippies, Kasner was exposed to an expansive catalog of social opportunities, including Grateful Dead concerts and art music festivals. Finally, she had landed a lasting space on her meandrous journey: a touring gig at Renaissance fairs nationwide.
For seven years, Kasner rotated around the country with a troupe, performing belly dance, African dance, classical dance and theater with worldly, environmental themes.
Dancing through Texas, she stumbled across a woman named Heather Graham. Today, Graham, too, calls the Siuslaw home. “I fell in love with her that day,” Graham said. “We became fast friends while stuck together on the road.”
After all, it was impossible not to be transfixed by Kasner’s magnetic energy. Despite roaming through different social groups and iterations of life during much of her young adulthood, she consistently harnessed a widespread hub of people. “She is a free spirit, whirlwind of a person,” Graham said. “Everyone I’ve ever known just kind of fell in love with her.”
All of a sudden, seismic discoveries and life-changing tragedy flipped her world upside down.
Every year, she returned home to visit her grandparents. One year, her grandfather informed her he was planning to sell the family property. “No, no, no,” Kasner said.
Kasner looks out her grandmother’s Dutch doors, now hanging in her property’s barn office. Photo Courtesy: Willow Kasner
He refused, scolding her and her “hippie” friends for trying to change the laws. “They’re going to make it so I can’t log up to the creek anymore,” he said. “I wasn’t planning to, but I’m going to now before they tell me I can’t.”
While incessantly pleading with her grandfather to keep the property and refrain from logging, Kasner informed him about global deforestation issues. “We have to stop destroying the forests,” Kasner said. “Or else the world is going to fall down.”
He didn’t budge and sold the property. “I don’t believe that,” he said. “I can’t see it; I don’t believe it.”
Dumbfounded, Kasner’s purpose in America had come to a standstill. The fight seemed impossible. She realized she didn’t have to come back. “Everything I knew was gone,” Kasner said.
Without hesitation, she took everything she knew and flew to South America with her troupe. Little did she know, her plane ticket was a year-long open ticket. She set no return date. It was time to start anew.
Settling on the coast of Ecuador, Kasner got up to just about everything. She found a partner and had a baby. Together, they owned a tattoo studio and a surf shop. Later down the line, she opened up her own “hippie” food restaurant called California Mama, while additionally teaching fire dancing and English to locals. For a total of seven years, Kasner built an enriching life for herself over 4,000 miles away from her beloved Siuslaw Forest.
In 2008, Kasner returned home to reclaim her family property. This time, she had her daughter to share it with. Nature had consumed the home, which was camouflaged head to toe in blackberry brambles. She had to carve out the yard, mend the porch and uncover the fruit trees, tirelessly fixing everything that would restore it to its original form.
It was back to business — back to the fight. Kasner invested time in a smattering of campaigns, including a “no nukes” initiative in Washington, D.C. She stopped eating industrialized meat and taught folks how to manage their health without buying into aggressive consumerism. Small or large, it didn’t matter the scale; Kasner jumped on every opportunity she could muster.
Cut to Aug. 3, 2023, when she received a nightmarish call. Once again, the government threatened to release an aerial spray of 2,4-D in and around her area. She had to stop them, and she had to spread the word.
Day and night for three weeks, Kasner rallied the public, generating over 2000 signatures on a petition sent to Governor Tina Kotek. She held several meetings with county commissioners, local citizens and miscellaneous concerned parties. “We sent 250 public comments to the Oregon Department of Forestry,” Kasner said. “They only had 10 in total up to that point.”
With the entire community on board, plans for aerial spray ceased. Kasner’s efforts did not.
She had studied everything humanly possible about forestry, including who decides the law and what information is shared with the public. She hollowed a rabbit hole deep enough to illuminate a foreseeable path. The cause was too intense and meaningful to abandon, with a never-ending inventory of new insights to learn.
“It’s like a blackberry root,” Kasner said. “You can pull it out, but there’s always a little left. It will just regrow.”
“This film came out of necessity,” Kasner said. “Necessity is the mother of invention and creativity.”
After “Poisoning,” Kasner crossed paths with Executive Director of the Coast Range Association Chuck Willer, who has fought against local timber industries for decades. Operating as a nonprofit since 1991, the CRA aims to locate just protections for Western Oregon’s forests while supporting a vibrant rural economy.
As it stands, the Northwest Forest Plan is the only entity protecting the Siuslaw from further disruption. It’s getting amended. In need of a coastal organizer to help uphold the NWFP, Willer offered Kasner a position with CRA as the Siuslaw plan amendment field organizer.
Approaching March 17, the deadline for the amendment, Kasner has been aggressive in organizing public comments and conducting field research.
On Feb. 28, Kasner hosted an event for her new community-based group, the Emerald Curtain Collective, called “Forest Through the Trees,” described as an evening of collaborative artistic activism, education and immersion. The evening was a smashing success, accumulating over $3000 to continue Siuslaw protection projects. The event featured local art, live music, interactive theater performances and mask-making. Going forward, Kasner hopes to assemble a team of contributors to extend the ECC’s artistic outreach and further submerge the community in environmental causes.
“Once you’re in love with something, you fight to protect it,” Kasner said. “So I’m getting the ants together. The small school of fish is tightening up.”
It’s been a winding, bumpy road — a life full of sudden segues, tragedy and resistance. But even if the world refuses to present her with the tranquility and justice she bravely fights for, Kasner will still be on the front lines, protecting and loving it for eternity. As long as the trees of the Siuslaw Forest stand tall, so shall their savior.
It’s Christmas in Tinseltown. Artists from across the globe gathered at Hollywood’s Dolby Theatre Sunday night to celebrate another beautiful year in cinema and bid adieu to a chaotic awards season. First-time host and late-night veteran Conan O’Brien steered a tight ship. Sean Baker’s “Anora” scored a night-topping five wins in its Best Picture-winning haul.
What went wrong? What went right? From a refreshing monologue and thoughtful production additions to embarrassing speeches and Timothée Chalamet’s bold look, let’s get into the highs and lows of Oscar night 2025.
High: The opener A “Wicked” opener, courtesy of stars Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo, brought the house down to commence the evening. Twinkling in a ruby slipper-inspired dress, Grande turned back the clock with a gorgeous rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Erivo took over with “Home” from “The Wiz” before the two broke out into “Defying Gravity.” Love or hate the movie, “Wicked” is a cultural landmark of 2024, and its leading ladies can belt these tunes to perfection.
High: Conan O’Brien O’Briencertainly didn’t look like an Oscar’s rookie. The opening bit — a “The Substance” inspired clip showing him digging for a lost shoe in Demi Moore’s severed back — kicked off the night’s thoughtful attention to its nominees. His monologue was fresh and funny, including the obligatory harmless jabs at the Best Picture nominees. He inserted some much-needed edge, calling out Karla Sofia Gascón’s nasty tweeting history. “Anora uses the F-word 479 times; that’s four more than the record set by Gascón’s publicist,” O’Brien said. “Karla, if you are going to tweet about the Oscars, remember: my name is Jimmy Kimmel.” Thanks to Conan, it was a smooth, entertaining evening.
High: Kieran Culkin nabs first Oscar for “A Real Pain”
Though highly expected, Culkin’s Best Supporting Actor victory was beyond well-deserved. It’s always a treat to watch him bumble through an improvised speech.
Low: Where are the acting clips?
One of my biggest complaints last year was the lack of acting clips during nomination round-ups. We were promised their return this year, and luckily, they were included in the Best Actress and Best Actor categories. But where is the love for our supporting performances? Cut for time? It doesn’t make much sense.
High: Attention for craft experts
We like to get worked up about the stars. We replay their speeches, obsess over their films and appreciate their talents. But some of the industry’s most essential artists are rarely given a spotlight. At the end of O’Brien’s opening monologue, he underscored the breathtaking talent of behind-the-scenes craft workers — the costume designers, sound designers, composers, effects artists, editors and cinematographers who carry their films to success.
Such thoughtfulness extended to the awards presentations, which incentivized sharing the spotlight. Actors from nominated films paid tribute to their costume designers one by one. The production repeated this process for cinematographers.
High: “Flow” wins animated feature
For the second consecutive year, a foreign independent film has ousted a heavily favored major studio film. Latvia’s gorgeous, dialogue-free masterpiece “Flow,” rendered entirely on a free and open-source software platform called Blender, upset Dreamworks’ “The Wild Robot.”
Low: A random James Bond tribute?
Typically, the ceremony features a slew of musical performances from Best Original Song nominees. For whatever reason, this year’s numbers were James Bond tributes performed by pop stars LISA, Doja Cat and RAYE. They weren’t egregious, just unmemorable and completely random. After Daniel Craig’s departure in 2021’s “No Time to Die,” the franchise is on hiatus. This time could’ve been utilized for something more relevant.
Low: “Emilia Pérez” scores pair of trophies
Look, we already knew this was going to happen. But seeing it come to fruition on screen is still disappointing. Zoe Saldaña won Best Supporting Actress for her role in “Emilia Pérez.” While she might be the best part about that movie, I can’t wrap my head around this win, especially given the film’s rampant controversy.
To make matters worse, French composing duo Clément Ducol and Camille took home Best Original Song for their tough listen “El Mal.” When Camille started singing awkwardly at the end of her speech, the entire audience cringed in dismay — the perfect embarrassment to end this film’s outrageous presence throughout awards season.
High: “No Other Land” wins Best Documentary Feature
The most powerful win of the night went to the Palestinian-Israeli documentary “No Other Land” — a portrait of a West Bank village under Israeli military occupation. In their speech, co-directors Basel Adra and Yuval Abraham pleaded for peace. “We call on the world to take serious actions to stop the injustice and to stop the ethnic cleansing of Palestinian people,” Adra said. Abraham added, “We live in a regime where I am free under civilian law and Basel is under military laws that destroy his life.”
High: “I’m Still Here” wins Best International Feature
This year’s craft winners were all worthy, inspired choices. While some races might come down to aesthetic preference, I can’t discount any of the victors. “The Substance” won Best Makeup and Hairstyling; “The Brutalist” won Best Cinematography and Best Original Score; “Dune: Part Two” nabbed Best Sound and Best Visual Effects; and “Wicked” took home Best Costume Design and Best Production Design.
Low: Adrien Brody overstaying his welcome
Get off the stage! The last time Adrien Brody won an Oscar, he gave Halle Berry an unsolicited kiss. This time, he ate up five minutes and thirty-seven seconds of screen time — a ceremony record. While providing a hollow, cookie-cutter ramble about ending hate, Brody wouldn’t allow himself to be played off. His performance in “The Brutalist” is fantastic, but the entitlement evident on stage is a sorry sight.
High: Sean Baker advocates for the theatrical experience
Sean Baker is one of the most prestigious voices in contemporary cinema. He finally received his flowers on Sunday, scoring a whopping four Oscars for writing, directing, editing and producing “Anora.” After winning Best Director, Baker encouraged filmmakers to keep making projects explicitly designed for a theatrical experience and for audiences to never stop visiting the theater in the age of streaming.
Low: A rare Timmy tumble
The glitz and glam of Oscar night is always a pleasure to witness. It’s the most prominent Hollywood event there is, with celebs vying for the “best dressed” title. Some play it safe; others get a little too ambitious. Unfortunately, Timothée Chalamet displayed a rare swag miss, rocking a gaudy, butter-yellow fit. He looked like The Man with the Yellow Hat from “Curious George,” sticking out like a sore thumb in his front-row seat. He’ll get ‘em next time.
High: “Anora” wins Best Picture
To bookend the night, “Anora” concluded its near-sweep and took home the top prize. I can’t say it was my personal favorite of the year — I’d give the nod to “The Substance” or “Nickel Boys” — but it’s undoubtedly a worthy entry in the history books. Baker’s tragic romp traces the chaotic journey of an unruly sex worker played gloriously by Best Actress winner Mikey Madison. It’s a distinctly modern, excellently crafted win for independent cinema.
“Hurrah for cinema!” shouted the exuberant audience, tightly huddled into Eugene’s Headquarters Wine Bar for a cozy evening of laughs, drinks and thrills.
Co-hosts Rince Turrell II Jr. and Michael Angier presented their second annual course of “Shortcuterie” — a thoughtfully curated smorgasbord of 15 eclectic short films. The slate, divided into five “bites” for viewers to sink their teeth into, was organized thematically and featured a healthy mix of locally sourced flicks and nationwide festival favorites.
Headquarters Wine Bar hosts Shortcuterie: A Short Film Showcase.
Self-titled “dandy connoisseurs of the fine things in life,” Turrell II Jr. and Angier began their relationship with cinema straight out of the crib. “I’ve been making films forever … since I was a wee lad,” Angier said.
The “Shortcuterie” perusal process toured the film festival circuit, where Turell II Jr. and Angier activated their keen eyes for comedy. With the help of past Los Angeles connections, the energetic co-hosts assembled a stellar lineup of delectably weird films from emerging filmmakers.
A short film plays at the Shortcuterie Short Film Showcase at Headquarters Wine Bar.
“I’m the kind of person to fall down a content rabbit hole and find weird stuff,” Turrell II Jr. said. “There’s a level of weirdness here that a general audience can’t swallow … halfway between mainstream taste and the truly strange.”
Bite One, “It’s in the Contract,” introduced the night’s festivities with an in-house production titled “Charcuterie Delivery.” Shot from the POV of a charcuterie board strapped to a car roof, the short was split into five chunks, premiering prior to each chapter of the night.
Graham Mason’s black-and-white comedy “Traveling Man,” following a man who can predict the future, launched the eccentric comedic tone present throughout much of the showcase. Alex Kavutskiy and Jerzy Rose’s “The Bride’s Curse” dipped into the supernatural with a hilarious tale about a man suffering from his wife’s untold family curse.
Bite Two, “You’re Hiding Something,” featured an evening standout, “Partners,” garnering uproarious laughter from the increasingly bought-in audience. From director Curt Neill, the film stars two dudes sitting in the desert drinking beers. They craft a scheme to divorce their wives and marry each other after one suddenly suggests, “What if we kissed?”
Bite Three, “Your Own Little World,” featured multiple animated shorts, including Julia Tudisco’s “Children of the Bird” — a singular, vibrant gem about life, creation, evolution and development.
Bite Four, “Pretty Bleak” quickly shifted the vibe with “The Windless Days” — Kalainithan Kalaichelvan’s somber take on death, loneliness and poverty. Jason Gudasz’s contemplative farm life satire “Everitt Montaine” instantly shifted it right back, offering the night’s kookiest laughs yet. The line “gumption in the wrong direction just makes you an asshole” was particularly memorable.
Bite Five, “Body Horror,” bookended the night with Dave Paige’s eerie comedy “Deep Tish,” following a man subjected to a deeply troubling massage experience.
Attendees Todd and Celeste Edman discovered the event online and had a blast. “It was awkward and beautiful,” Todd Edman said.
“I thought there would be a charcuterie board, which was disappointing,” Celeste Edman said. “But it’s nice to see this many people out.”
Barring a collapse, Turrell II Jr. and Angier are excited to hold another “Shortcuterie” in the future and stressed the importance of student involvement.
“It’s exciting that students are starting to wake up to this as an event,” Turrell II Jr. said. “We would love more student submissions.”
With 2024 officially in hindsight, the year’s best now compete for flowers at the world’s premier awards ceremonies. More crucially, they compete for a spot on my top 10 list for the Daily Emerald. Spanning all genres, budgets and scales, here are my picks for 2024 — a year in review.
Despite my best efforts to 100% the year’s cinematic gamut, I lack the time or faculties to access the inaccessible. As lovely as Eugene’s theaters are, they aren’t given the same priority as New York or LA. I would be remiss to neglect the acclaimed projects I patiently wait to view or have failed to see, which I have designated “the stragglers.”
The Stragglers: “The Brutalist,” “Queer,” “The Seed of the Sacred Fig,” “Flow,” “Babygirl,” “A Different Man,” “No Other Land” and “Nickel Boys.”
Without further ado, let’s get into the top 10 films of 2024.
Honorable Mentions: “Kinds of Kindness,” “Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga,” “The Wild Robot,” “Inside Out 2” and “Longlegs.”
10. “A Complete Unknown”: The times they are a-changin’, yet societal patterns of upheaval and resistance to such change read shockingly similar to the past. In the 1960s, the noisy, unfamiliar sounds of electric instruments enraged acoustic purists; today, older generations carry these complaints to hip-hop and digital instrumentation.
“A Complete Unknown” unites filmmaker James Mangold with Timothée Chalamet, exploring Bob Dylan’s meteoric rise and game-changing swing from quaint folk music to booming rock and roll. Chalamet is phenomenal as Dylan, capturing his offbeat charm and raspy singing voice. He’s a complicated, frequently unlikeable figure but impossible to look away from, painting a crystal clear picture of how an enigmatic 19-year-old from Minnesota became a revolutionary artist. Mangold flawlessly captures the 1960s with a well-shot and excellently mixed ode to one of the greats. Where many music biopics fall short, “A Complete Unknown” excels.
Popcorn Rating: 4/5 bags of popcorn
9. “Dìdi (弟弟)”: “Dìdi (弟弟)” is easily the smallest-scale production on this list, zooming in on Chris Wang — an impressionable 13-year-old Taiwanese boy navigating his way through summer social politics and the art of flirting. The overwhelming cringiness and awkwardness seeping out of Izaac Wang’s leading performance and his relatable boyish struggles are an instant reminder of the intermediate experience — the formative time between childhood and adulthood where everything and everyone sucks.
Joan Chen’s elegant supporting performance as Chris’s mother is perhaps the sweetest performance of the year. Director Sean Wang’s eye for mid-2000s aesthetics is painfully nostalgic. Similarly to its protagonist, “Dìdi (弟弟)” is quiet and quaint, packing personality and depth beneath an insecure surface.
Popcorn Rating: 4.5/5 bags of popcorn
8. “Conclave”: Edward Berger’s “Conclave” is an electric, soul-stirring clash of modern social politics with ancient ritual and certainty with doubt. After the unexpected death of the Pope, Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) is tasked with managing the election of his successor. As rumors, rumblings and infighting quietly escalate throughout the marble halls of the Vatican, Lawrence must confront conspiracy, the merits of tradition and his complicated tension with faith.
Fiennes delivers an astonishing performance, begrudgingly commanding his power-hungry, gossip-ridden conclave. The indecision and ethical gymnastics sequestered within his eyes protrude from his exhausted voice. Stanley Tucci and Isabella Rossellini highlight a cast riddled with excellent performances. Berger’s direction is on fire, crafting one of the most handsomely made films of the year. My eyes were twinkling while I sat on the edge of my seat — it’s a near-perfect thriller.
Popcorn Rating: 4.5/5 bags of popcorn
7. “Nosferatu”: Robert Eggers’ haunting reimagining of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 classic is an unrelenting plunge into darkness that zips by at an immense pace like a crescendo of horror. His trademark icy, muted palette illuminates the screen to perfection. The film has a pulsing energy to it that productions this dreary typically fail to achieve; it’s incredibly disturbing but also fun, swashbuckling and occasionally humorous.
The word revelation is overused in film criticism, but Lily-Rose Depp earns it here, writhing, drooling and screaming her way to one of my favorite horror performances of all time. The whole cast is outstanding, including Bill Skarsgård’s grotesque vampiric transformation. The gothic costumes, gruesome makeup, shattering sound and bone-chilling music are all polished to perfection, culminating in one of the most sensorial and stimulating projects of the year. It’s plague-ridden, loud and disgusting, but oh-so fun.
Popcorn Rating: 4.5/5 bags of popcorn
6. “I Saw the TV Glow”: “Cinema for our time” is a loose, vague notion thrown around liberally. Jane Schoenbrun’s “I Saw the TV Glow” is decisively of our time. When reserved teenager Owen (Ian Foreman/Justice Smith) encounters mysterious classmate Maddy (Brigette Lundy-Paine), he is introduced to a curious late-night show titled “The Pink Opaque.” In the pale glow of his newfound television obsession, Owen’s grasp of reality begins to warp. An improvement in every fashion over their filmmaking debut, director Jane Schoenbrun’s sophomore turn is a sinister, melancholy and unapologetic adaptation of the trans experience.
Schoenbrun’s trans allegory is confidently unsubtle yet profoundly layered. “The Pink Opaque” is a distant, unattainable realm but provides Owen a freeing outlet for expression, enlivening his obscured identity. The film tackles the suffocating psychological and physical effects of dysphoria and repression so viscerally and honestly.
Schoenbrun and cinematographer Eric Yue craft a consistently gorgeous visual climate, painting dimly lit, claustrophobic interiors and quaint suburban exteriors in striking pink, blue and neon. The music, perhaps my favorite piece of the puzzle, solidifies “I Saw the TV Glow” as an artistic masterpiece. Alex G’s score gives the film a synthy, moving and beating heart. The soundtrack is chock full of memorable original tunes, including Caroline Polachek’s “Starburned and Unkissed.” A bold, beautiful, modern examination of the trans identity, “I Saw the TV Glow” quickly elevates Schoenbrun to auteur status. I can’t wait to see what else they’ve got up their sleeves.
Popcorn Rating: 5/5 bags of popcorn
5. “Sing Sing”: A24’s “Sing Sing” is a healing gem and a beautiful love letter to art. Even in the somber end-point of a broken system, a company of prisoners finds purpose, camaraderie and liberation. Wrongfully convicted playwright John “Divine G” Whitfield (Colman Domingo) energizes a vibrant group of incarcerated men at Sing Sing Correctional Facility, acting and directing alongside them in Shakespeare productions.
Based on a true story, “Sing Sing” is mainly performed by real-life prisoners depicting themselves in the film. Going in blind, you would never have known; every performance feels professional and natural. Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin delivers a raw, tempestuous performance that examines toxic masculinity’s association with insecurity. Domingo continues his ascension to one of the most brilliant living actors. “Sing Sing” is impossible to dislike and so easy to love. Even in the most inhumane conditions, humanity remains and prevails.
Popcorn Rating: 5/5 bags of popcorn
4. “A Real Pain”: Jesse Eisenberg’s “A Real Pain” is a strikingly thoughtful portrait of mismatched cousins with opposite neurodivergent personalities — one timid and insecure, the other unfiltered, depressed and peculiarly charming. The film follows their traipse through Poland for a guided tour and trip to their late grandmother’s old house. The Polish backdrop, tethering its co-leads to their tragic Jewish roots, adds an interesting critique of our interaction with history and ancestry.
Kieran Culkin harnesses a vivid balance between comedy and tragedy. One second, you’re laughing out loud; the next, you’re tearing up. Eisenberg and Culkin have a chemical dynamic. The delicate shot composition and graceful piano melodies elevate this “screenplay movie” into a visual and technical treat. It’s a simple walk-and-talk film, with so much stirring between the lines. I’m pulling for Culkin at the awards circuit in 2025.
Popcorn Rating: 5/5 bags of popcorn
3. “Dune: Part Two”: Despite its March release, Denis Villeneuve’s epic sci-fi sequel remains near the top of the list. “Dune: Part Two” is a breathtaking culmination of technical craft and fantastical storytelling, redefining the parameters of blockbuster filmmaking. The sheer weight of what’s being presented on screen is shattering. The story envelopes you in its curious mythos, intersecting intense action, space politics, magic and religion.
Timothée Chalamet’s leading performance as Paul Atreides blends stoicism and sensitivity. His commanding presence frames a protagonist that is simultaneously easy to root for and fear. Cinematographer Greig Fraser improves upon his Oscar-winning work in part one, arranging a beautiful, unmistakable visual atmosphere. From piercing hot orange skies to a black-and-white sequence shot entirely in infrared, the film welcomes a new realm of grand-scale cinematic imagery.
The sound design is equally incredible, inventing a noise palette for futuristic weaponry, massive sandworms, knife battles and numerous explosions. Hans Zimmer’s score ranges from melodic and ethereal to booming and otherworldly. It entangles itself within the soundscape during great battles, only to break free and take over in the film’s softer moments. What Villeneuve and a magnificent cast and crew have created represents the pinnacle of blockbuster filmmaking — a larger-than-life sci-fi experience, pumping awe-inspiring imagery, engrossing mythology and overtaking sound into your veins. “Dune: Part Two” is one for the ages.
Popcorn Rating: 5/5 bags of popcorn
2. “Challengers”: Tennis has never been so exhilarating. “Challengers” is an intoxicating, unapologetically sexy and delicately shot cinematic romp. In an audacious swing for the fences, Luca Guadagnino effortlessly blends nail-biting tennis matches, uproarious melodrama and inventive camerawork. When childhood best friends and upcoming tennis duo Art and Patrick (Mike Faist and Josh O’Connor) cross paths with young phenom Tashi Duncan (Zendaya), their lives become a knotted web of jealousy, lust and betrayal. Cutting back and forth between past and present, the story weaves through different chapters of the trio’s tangled love triangle. “Challengers” seduces you into its contorted structure so effectively that it feels impossible to look away.
Zendaya’s performance is on fire, scorching the screen with superstar power. Faist and O’Connor are equally impressive. Their boyish and occasionally intimate dynamic gradually fades away as Tashi’s company lingers. “Challengers” is riddled with ingenious point-of-view shots, capturing angles from every inch of the court.
Guadagnino’s repeated use of slow motion and acute close-ups depict romance and competition at their rawest. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’s score bumps, thumps and pumps. Pulsating synths and bouncy piano melodies create a spirited, stressful atmosphere. Guadagnino’s vision is entertainment in its finest form and one of the freshest sports films ever made — a suspenseful, sensual and hilarious cinematic feast.
Popcorn Rating: 5/5 bags of popcorn
1. “The Substance”: Last but not least is French director Coralie Fargeat’s twisted body horror-comedy “The Substance,” which has quickly become a personal all-timer. When a washed-up celebrity named Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) decides to inject herself with a black market drug, promising to create a younger, better version of herself, dire consequences quickly begin to appear.
Fargeat’s insane vision presents some of the gnarliest, innovative modern body horror thrills ever, accompanied by intricate editing, colorful production design, nasty makeup and a squelching soundboard. Demi Moore spearheads an unsubtle examination of Hollywood’s ridiculous body standards, which trickle down to the everyday woman. Margaret Qualley, Moore’s better, younger half is a glamorous, chaotic antagonist. “The Substance” is the kind of adrenaline-pumping romp I want to return to repeatedly — it’s funny, contemplative and unforgettable.
Popcorn Rating: 5/5 bags of popcorn
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