The clothes you wore, the food you ate, the stories you read, the music you listened to, the friendships you forged; as you got older, you probably outgrew many of the things I just listed. Since you’re reading this, I’m taking my chance by assuming there is at least one fascination that hasn’t died, which is the one you feel for cinema. For some, the phenomenon boils down to nothing more than a series of moving images designed to hold your attention for a while and be forgotten in a matter of seconds. To others, it’s a calling.

And by that I mean it’s a medium one devotes their life to, either as an avid consumer or as someone moved enough by motion pictures to strive to make films themselves. I’m in a subcategory of the former, meaning I view, collect, and analyse movies; I constantly talk, think, and write about them. Yes, I give my opinion, spread the word, gain inspiration, and seek to bestow this upon others as well through recommendations. If you want me to say it, fine, I’m not ashamed: I kneel at its altar! There, happy now?

The reinvigorating spark that only the magic of projections on a silver screen can grant you is miraculous enough to be the subject of a chronicle itself. Italian director Giuseppe Tornatore may not have been the first to do so, but his sophomore picture achieved massive, well-deserved recognition, earning praise from critics and audiences alike and winning numerous accolades worldwide, including the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film. It tells the story of a life, and the life of many stories. The director shows you that you may depart the environment you grew up in, but it is impossible to truly leave. And though you must make your way in the world to fulfil your true potential, it is only by looking back that you can come full circle. But let me rein in my passionate ramblings, lest I give away too much.

So I suggest you wipe the previous occupant’s popcorn from your seat, enjoy a new batch of your own, sit back, and let Nuovo Cinema Paradiso (1988)—more famous as Cinema Paradiso—transport and transform you!

Artificial Horizons

In 1988, an elderly lady named Maria Di Vita (Pupella Maggio) unsuccessfully attempts to telephone her son, Salvatore (Jacques Perrin), a famous film director living in Rome, who has not visited his home town in thirty years; his unnamed girlfriend answers the call. As soon as her partner arrives home after working late, she passes on his mother’s message that someone named Alfredo has died, and that his funeral service will be held tomorrow. The news shocks him and mentally transports him back to his childhood, when everyone knew him as Totò (Salvatore Cascio) in the Sicilian village of Giancaldo, where he was an altar boy to Father Adelfio (Leopoldo Trieste).

As a kid, he’s very bright, but mischievous and unfocused, constantly falling asleep during his church obligations. Clearly, Totò feels no devotion for these religious tasks; he would much rather sneak into private screenings at the Cinema Paradiso, where the local priest orders romantic scenes to be cut from movies. The film theatre becomes the centre of the young boy’s life.

Totò, whose father never came back from the War, holds the cinema’s projectionist, the seasoned Alfredo (Philippe Noiret), in high regard, but the unschooled adult dislikes the youngster hanging around. Only through his unrelenting passion for film and his willingness to tutor the stubborn yet soft-hearted man do the two develop a strong emotional bond. He starts looking after the boy and becomes his mentor; eventually, he even teaches his young pupil how to use the projector.

Time slowly moves along, and after a tragedy, a lot of progress reaches the usually quiet and traditional town. Salvatore eventually becomes the Nuovo Cinema Paradiso’s projectionist, and it won’t be long before another passion sweeps the now-teenager (Marco Leonardi) off his feet: the arrival of the beautiful Elena (Agnese Nano). He is eventually forced to realise that staying in his village will make it impossible for him to move forward in the world, but leaving is easier said than done.

Projections of a Father

As soon as a loved one is taken away from us forever, they leave a void that can never be truly filled. Even though his mother (played by Antonella Attilli in her younger years) denied it to her son’s face, the War claimed her husband. She fed her eldest child—for Totò has a younger, unnamed sister—hopeful delusions that he would soon return home to them. He saw right through that, however, and knew he had to forever miss this central figure in his life to look up to.

In Alfredo, he found a surrogate who, in turn, mesmerised the kid with movies. Being wise beyond his years and lacking a father, Totò had to grow up far too fast; cinema became a sanctuary for him, a form of escapism and the only portal to a place in which he was allowed to believe in magic again.

And he’s not the only one held in cinema’s warm embrace; Giancaldo is home to many colourful characters, who constantly bicker, gossip or poke fun at one another—apart from the village idiot (Nicola Di Pinto), who constantly claims that the town square, through logic only understood by him, is his. But the movie theatre is the one place where they all happily co-exist. Well, okay, apart from that one bespectacled miserable bastard who keeps spitting on the folks below from the balcony, for some reason.

And seeing all these people marvel and revel at what’s displayed on the silver screen makes you realise all the more why you yourself love the art form so much. Cinema Paradiso is, after all, a love letter to film in all its facets, to the collective experience it brings us. Something that was forever altered by the advent of streaming, but that’s a discussion for another day.

The Melody of Melancholy

Right from the word ‘go’, we’re thrown into the story with an intriguing frame narrative and treated to a magnificent marriage of vision and sound. A film about film should, of course, look as enchanting as possible, and cinematographer Blasco Giurato does not disappoint in that regard. We get so acquainted with the colours, the cobbles, the clocks and the character of the town of Giancaldo, that we might as well be residents ourselves.

The mesmerising vistas of the town and its surrounding areas are strong enough on their own, but their melancholy is heightened by the tear-inducing tones of Ennio Morricone. In his first of thirteen collaborations with Tornatore, the Maestro definitely gave it his all. The beautiful way in which the astounding theme and overall score strengthen the narrative and the visual splendour tends to make you more forgiving of the various imperfections.

I’m sorry, but the obvious dubbing needs to be mentioned, as well as the at times far-from-perfect makeup effects that lack the necessary conviction. These slight shortcomings were not enough to pull me from the story, as Morricone’s and Blasco’s combined efforts were more than enough to keep me grounded. Some shots were highly metaphorical, such as the one in which Alfredo talks to the teenage Salvatore on the docks about the need to leave for fear of unfulfillment.

A couple of yards away from them is a pile of anchors; many set foot ashore here and never left, beautifully symbolising the importance that the young man mustn’t make the same mistake, but entrust his ship to the wild waves yonder. Other elements of note are editor Mario Morra’s creative transitions. The way he matches the priest’s servant bell to its larger cousins in the church belfry and many other similarly witty cuts and fades… chef’s kiss!

Film Strips

Multiple editions of Cinema Paradiso exist:

1. The original release (155 minutes): the version distributed to Italian theatres, which didn’t sell well and was therefore trimmed.

2. The international release (124 minutes): far more successful, this shorter cut of the film was shown in cinemas worldwide.

3. The director’s cut (173 minutes): in the above, most well-known edit, a central plotline never gets resolved, yet it still tells a complete story—I’ll say no more. Apparently, we do receive closure in this edition of Cinema Paradiso.

To the best of my knowledge, the first cut was never released on home video. I saw the international version on a 4K Ultra-HD Blu-ray disc, courtesy of the Arrow Video sublabel Arrow Academy.

Carefully, without entering spoiler territory, I had looked up some information on the differences between versions. The director’s cut is a whole different beast, apparently, giving the story a more dramatic, cynical tone.

I wonder if it also solves some slight hurdles that I encountered, being:

1. Social and political issues of the time get briefly touched upon—perhaps they weren’t that important to the story, but it looked like a setup for more that we never got.

2. The love arc, as well as scenes pertaining to Salvatore’s compulsory conscription to military service, move far, far too quickly to really make an impact.

3. It happens only rarely, but some seemingly relevant characters completely disappear from view, quite shortly after being introduced.

Luckily, these slight obstacles are far from insurmountable and don’t impede the magic that is Cinema Paradiso in any way. In fact, they rather amused me, and made me wonder if Father Adelfio had ordered Alfredo to trim these scenes! Truth be told, I think I still hear the faint echo of his servant bell…

Credits When Credits Are Due

Every experience comes to a close, and I can tell you, this film has one of the most beautiful and emotional endings I have ever laid my eyes—and, well, ears—upon! Having now had some time to come to terms with it, the final scenes might even be sort of prophetic: a local cinema lies in ruins due to declining viewership. Today, movie theatres also see their revenue dwindling due to a lack of patrons. The convenience of streaming, combined with the restrictions of the pandemic, brought us to this point. My friend makes a solid case for optimism about cinema’s future, given recent positive developments. Personally, I see its road paved with obstructions that it may hopefully manage to circumvent.

Even though Cinema Paradiso—despite spanning roughly forty years—is a beautiful and, above all, timeless ode to the medium of film, the connection with the present makes it even more perfect to view today. That said, I will freely admit that I will use any excuse to entice you to see it! I adore how it glorifies the audiovisual phenomenon as a whole, not just one or a handful of titles. It features unforgettable characters, mesmerising photography, a thoroughly emotional story, deeply moving music and important life lessons. The most crucial of which is to stop dwelling on and glorifying the past and instead strive for and embrace the future. And by combining all of this, Tornatore’s second feature showcases the medium’s everlasting power and impact.

And now I long to dream, fueled by the light from a good old rattling projector.

We’ll meet again in the movie theatre!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Cinema Paradiso (1988), Titanus

Coffee would be MUCH appreciated!

This film was chosen by the members of the stara film club as the title to be viewed and subsequently analysed on a live video panel. This virtual meeting was attended by me, , the club’s proprietor—who also covered the event—and Jamie from . We had a great time and a very insightful, respectful conversation about this absolute jewel! Check the website for the next film and the schedule for the upcoming live discussion. Also, if you’re there, why not offer some suggestions for the pool? Who knows, we might be reviewing your favourite movie together soon!

Summary

Title: Nuovo Cinema Paradiso
Year: 1988
Country: Italy/France
Director: Giuseppe Tornatore
Genre: Coming-of-age/Comedy-drama
Running time: 124 minutes
Conclusion: Exuding a love for the wonderful medium of film, this affecting and powerful ode to cinema presses the right buttons for everyone who dares to open themselves up emotionally.
Grade: 9.1/10
Viewed on: 4K Ultra-HD Blu-ray from my private collection

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

Remember when you were a kid? Not even the sky was the limit; you could become anything you wanted to, and the future was so bright, you’d need three pairs of aviator-style sunglasses just to look at it. Amongst your peers, the most awe-inspiring professions would be thrown around: doctor, police officer, fire(wo)man, astronaut… and pilot, of course! From a classy airline captain to a daredevil jetfighter ace, clouds and horizons were beckoning to many young boys and girls. Time, education, and effort were the only bridges between you and these dreams…

For many, growing older would allow for the shifting of both priorities and goal posts. Old fascinations quickly faded to the background, to be dusted off perhaps once or twice and then simply let go. But because the occupations that hundreds idolised in their infancy still exist today, obviously not everyone lost sight of their youthful enthusiasms. These heroes of our society still serve as inspiration for the next generation and stand as prime examples of the fruit of perseverance! With the right amount of motivation, you can be anything you aspire to! But who are these symbols of determination and realisation of grand ideals?

They mostly comprise real-life people and their representatives in television and film. Considering the latter, the power of cinema should not be underestimated. For better or for worse, I might add. Today’s subject had supposedly caused a massive, multifold increase in the number of applicants who wanted to become aircraft combatants. That spike was far smaller, but it’s a nice little tidbit that sparks the stuff of legends. And that’s definitely where this tale about a madcap thrill-seeker on Uncle Sam’s payroll ended up. But was it deserved?

Let’s take a closer look at why Top Gun (1986) is trapped in a permanent flat spin of clichés before it inevitably crashes and burns.

Airboring Division

The story starts straight on the runway, literally, showing what the nine-to-five goings-on aboard a US Navy aircraft carrier look like. This montage is interrupted by a frantic dogfight featuring Naval Aviator Lt. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (Tom Cruise) and his Radar Intercept Officer, Lt. (jg) Nick “Goose” Bradshaw (Anthony Edwards). They’ve taken off in their F-14A Tomcat from the USS Enterprise, based in the Indian Ocean, to take on two completely anonymous enemy MiG-28s that have ventured into their territory. Together with teammates Lt. Bill “Cougar” Cortell (John Stockwell) and Lt. (jg) Sam “Merlin” Wells (Tim Robbins), they are able to chase these hostile units off. Come time to return to base, however, Cougar suffers a panic attack. Maverick is able to guide him back to the Enterprise, but defies orders to pull this off.

For this misconduct, he gets chewed out by his commanding officer (James Tolkan), though the latter must admit that the young upshot is the best thing since sliced bread, yada, yada, yada. Cougar was supposed to enrol in what trainees call ‘Top Gun’, an elite flight school in Miramar, San Diego. After he resigns his commission, Maverick and Goose are sent instead. They square off against the most talented pilots of their generation, including Lt. Tom “Iceman” Kazansky (Val Kilmer) and his flight officer, Lt. (jg) Ron “Slider” Kerner (Rick Rossovich). All are inspired to nab that prestigious Top Gun Trophy. Meanwhile, Maverick strikes up a relationship with the instruction program’s astrophysics instructor, Charlotte “Charlie” Blackwood (Kelly McGillis) and suffers a personal loss, planting seeds of doubt in his mind. Will he overcome his sense of insecurity, retain the love of his life, and graduate at the top of his class?

Measuring Dicks at Mach 2

My personal answer to the previous three questions is: who GIVES a flying fuck?! This film may think it was constructed to register on an emotional level, but it lacks the necessary parts to do so. You may compare it to boasting about the top speed of a car that’s missing its engine and all four wheels ever since you bought it. In this case, the vehicle we use to traverse the film is Maverick. I prefer my characters flawed; they don’t even have to be likeable. If the protagonist is perfect, he or she has no obstacles to overcome, and the story will nosedive right out of the sky.

That’s not to say Maverick doesn’t have hindrances and hardships to face. But his main challenge seems to be getting out of the men’s locker room without landing in the sack with one of them. The sweating of torsos, the hurling of insults, and the firing up of tension caused multiple injuries on set; some crew members became paraplegics after slipping on puddles of weaponised testosterone.

No, I just made that up, but I’d have believed it.

It’s so weird to see these guys brandishing towels around their waists, as you can almost feel the unmistakable eagerness to whip out what Mother Nature has gifted them and compare sizes. As soon as Maverick and Goose arrive at Top Gun, this is what the bulk of the movie amounts to. But the epitome of absolute arrogance, misplaced masculinity, and ridiculous rivalry is the volleyball montage that drags on forever. This and other scenes come off as a moronic commercial that forgot which brand it was supposed to promote. It leaves the story without a moral anchor, as Maverick’s character arc is as uninteresting as studying the movements of grass on a windless day.

But even taking that out of the equation won't reduce the turbulence. No, dear reader, Top Gun is flying straight into a shitstorm.

The Pattern is Full (of Clichés)

You simply cannot use the screenplay for this film as target practice. The holes it’s full of are so gigantic, it’s nigh on impossible to hit the surrounding parts of this shoddy piece of shit. Take these ‘enemy’ MiG-28s, for example; what is their objective? Which country do they belong to? I know the Cold War was running on fumes when the film was released, but we’re not even told whether or not there’s an armed conflict going on! There are no apparent political ramifications stemming from these hostile movements, nor is anyone close to sweating the tiniest bucket over them; they’re hardly even addressed, and if they are, they’re treated as a minor traffic nuisance, if that. Even better, you may compare it to the running gag that wasn’t remotely funny to begin with: Maverick, being the jolly ol’ rascal that he is, disobeys orders when he’s not cleared for landing by flying straight past the control tower, and—get this!—making the air boss there… spill his coffee!

BWAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa, when does this torture show end?

If there ever was a proper plot to this dumpster fire, producers Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer must’ve flung it out the window in lieu of spectacular set pieces due to the Dollar signs that kept flashing before their eyes. All the money pooled for this catastrophe probably went to the cast and the visual department, and the latter, in particular, knew how to apply these funds. This film certainly looks like a—*checks notes*—thirteen to fifteen million bucks, with the tremendous Tony Scott colour scheme he would apply so well in the magnificent Quentin Tarantino-penned crime road movie True Romance (1993) just a few years later. But what we get is a soap opera-level drama about an incorrigible airhead—literally!—that, ironically, cannot raise his cliché-riddled flight trajectory from the ground, as it keeps falling flat on his stupid face. The supposedly touching parts, without exception, fail to land because they also never take off in the first place. Perhaps it was Simpson and Bruckheimer’s idea to make a really emotional piece, but the aircraft-carrier pigeon transporting that memo was lost before it reached the relevant people downstream. Your guess is as good as mine.

Zero Lift

Many might jump to the film’s defence at this point, suggesting that Maverick is a well-rounded character; their main argument would probably be that he—like many a properly written protagonist—has some actual skeletons in his closet. The immediate problem is his comfort level with having them there. There is some yammering about his father also having been a Navy pilot, but his old man’s history was shrouded in controversy. This gets mentioned sparingly, and not in a way that would even slightly raise my curiosity. Maverick himself hardly ever shows any interest in the matter apart from mentions, so why should the audience feel any different? This specific avenue of the plot is so poorly set up and constructed that the big reveal towards the end has no chance of reviving the flatline that my emotional investment experienced five minutes after the opening credits.

Nothing about the dynamic between the characters possesses even an ounce of natural chemistry. Seeing the graceful Kelly McGillis again, who had made a smashing impression in the memorable neo-noir drama Witness (1985), was a treat, but all her role of Charlie amounted to was stroking the phallus of the main character’s massive ego. Goose, Maverick’s best friend, was… well, Maverick’s best friend; that’s where his personality traits started and ended. And no matter how much I love and miss Val Kilmer, Iceman was simply designed to be Maverick’s shallow foil. Neither among these people, nor between the pilots and their mysterious enemies, is any type of tension discernible. If any valuable subtext presented itself, it flew under my radar.

Mayday

Over the years, I had caught bits and bobs of Top Gun, but never the whole thing. I expected a product typical of its time, sure, emphasised by its unapologetic eighties score. What I was presented with was a military propaganda piece that’s dated in every conceivable way, shape and form—Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it felt ancient by 1986 standards. The film discarded the orders of the Academy Award-winning hit single Berlin released for it, as it didn’t take my breath away. Neither did it fly off with my boredom, nor would it soar heavenbound with my frustrations. Everything about this astronomical chunk of cliché is completely inconsequential.

A conversation with my close friend , who expressed great enthusiasm for the 2022 sequel, made me realise I needed to check the original off my list. To call the experience a disappointment would be a massive understatement. In all of these 110 minutes, I’ve seen nothing in the way of value. Well, wait, that’s not true; Jim Abrahams directed the spoof Hot Shots! (1991)—a film I fondly remember for the many laughs it brought me, and which syphoned jet fuel directly from this flick. But now, after about three decades, I finally know that Top Gun never, ever needed a parody; it itself is one, and terrible to boot!

I didn’t lose that lovin’ feelin’, dear reader. That would imply I ever acquired it at all.

Right, I’ma buzz some more towers, y’all!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Top Gun (1986), Paramount Pictures

Did someone say 'coffee'? I'd love some!

Summary

Title: Top Gun
Year: 1986
Country: United States
Director: Tony Scott
Genre: Action/Drama
Running time: 110 minutes
Conclusion: It looks cool, feels nostalgic, but leaves me bored out of my skull and furious over the ridiculous screenplay, the hyperfocus on sentimentality, and the characters who were stripped of any and every dimension.
Grade: 2.0/10
Viewed on: Netflix

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

Museums store, protect, and display the most creative works of art that humanity has produced, as well as historical artefacts, engineering accomplishments, and the marvels of nature. Entire organisations have been erected to preserve both flora and fauna. The legislature of a country makes sure that the law is upheld and that orange dictators don’t enrich themselves, start illegal wars, wreck the economy, manipulate history, or, you know, demolish the official residence of the head of state and the Capitol for ridiculous vanity projects that nobody fucking asked for. Great job, Congress!

Cinema is another touchy subject, literally! For better or for worse, we get alternative versions of successful films thrown at us all the time. Way back when, George Lucas couldn’t take his hands off his original Star Wars (1977) and its two immediate follow-ups. Some very controversial edits disfigured E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982) by his colleague and friend, Steven Spielberg. And the debacle around Zack Snyder’s ultimately assembled cut of the extremely troubled Justice League (2017)? Let’s not even go there. An episode of the satirical animated show South Park (1997-present) addressed the problem of films needing to be protected from their makers back in 2008. While aiming to poke fun, the debate they sparked is genuine: movies are products of their time, so updating them may be construed as rewriting and falsifying movie history.

However, sometimes cuts—which may later be restored—must be made for the sake of marketability. A well-known example of this is the fantasy smash hit The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001) and its equally successful sequels. They were later given a Special Extended Release on home video by director Peter Jackson, adding new scenes and context to the versions previously projected in cinemas.

In that same era, another project was literally—and, given the characters, plot, and setting, ironically—cut in two, preventing the unnecessary removal of precious material. After being shown at festivals in 2004, the complete version never saw a wide release. Its director kept it close to the chest and steadfastly refused to make his brainchild available on any medium, whether physical or streaming. There were no hints that his stance on the matter would ever change.

But now, against all odds, Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair (2004), the brainchild of cinema’s curator of cult classic carnage Quentin Tarantino, finally made a killing in cinemas. What’s more, it’s due out next month on 4K Ultra-HD and regular Blu-ray, as well as… VHS?!

Anyway, let’s not get ahead of ourselves and cut right to the jug- I mean, chase. So, sit back in your Pussy Wagon, strap in, sharpen your samurai sword, and see just how wild this ride gets!

Chapter One: A ‘Royale’ Welcome

The story is one as old as time—or at least dates back to Shurayuki-hime (1975), better known internationally as Lady Snowblood. She was once the greatest assassin the world had ever seen, but then the heavily pregnant and nameless Bride (Uma Thurman), previously going by Black Mamba, fell out of favour with her mentor/former lover Bill (David Carradine), the Snake Charmer. He orders his Deadly Viper Assassination Squad to execute her, her fiancé, and all other people assembled in a little Texas wedding chapel. Despite Bill’s personal coup de grâce, The Bride survives her ordeal and slips into a coma. She awakens four years later, her baby being replaced by an unquenchable thirst for revenge. After acquiring a custom katana and compiling a list of her victims, she crosses them off one by one until she reaches her primary target: Bill.

My local arthouse theatre in Leeuwarden, Slieker Film, arranged a Tarantino Special, allowing visitors to have a Royale With Cheese and an accompanying milkshake at Café Thús. There was a free drink involved for people who came dressed as one of the director’s colourful characters, so I opted for black and white and a makeshift Kato mask. The best costume was awarded a prize, but a shocking lack of competition made me the default winner—see my Note for more. My awesome best friends , —AKA Our Kid—and I didn’t run into a single Crazy 88 colleague. Oh well, no matter, it was an unforgettable screening in so, so many ways. But how did the film itself contribute to the experience?

Chapter Two: The Second Renaissance of Frankenfilm

I’m jealous of people who saw the Director’s Cut of Dark City (1998) first; the theatrical version gave away far too many of its surprises in the opening sequence on the behest of the producers. What the new edit of Alex Proyas’ neo-noir sci-fi gem has in common with Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair is that each is, without a single doubt, the superior version of its respective film. We’re not just talking about stitched together parts that have become animated—despite the film featuring an extended version of the anime sequence—but about a bloody, pulpy, yet exciting story that feels complete. And that’s because it is. Yes, it’s over four hours long, which sadly stretches the attention span of the smartphone generation to its brittle limits. But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Whenever I recount to you a tale, I have the irresistible habit of including way too many unnecessary details—sorry about that. I don’t want to compare myself to him, but this characteristic is reflected in Tarantino’s sprawling way of telling a story, especially in Kill Bill. The ultraviolent first half is a beautiful buildup to the contemplative second, which, by comparison, offers even more plot. That has always been the case, even when the film was split into two. But now, the whole thing flows marvellously, despite its huge-arse running time. The recap that precedes Chapter Six: Massacre at Two Pines has been removed, as well as a reveal that concludes Chapter Five: Showdown at House of Blue Leaves, which, in the grand scheme of cinema history, isn’t that earth-shattering, but I still wonder if it might surprise the uninitiated.

Chapter Three: The Blood, the Bath and the Rhythm

It’s so weird to think that a movie by Tarantino, renowned for showing excessive violence, would be toned down. But that is exactly what happened with Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003). The infamous massacre involving the Crazy 88 gang was originally shown largely in black-and-white to please the MPAA. Now, we get to witness the carnage in all its gory glory, and it is still a feast to behold; probably even more so. The same may be said for the extended anime scene, which now tells a more complete mini story and does not hold back on the bloodshed! Its necessity may be debated, but it sure helps make this neo-noir samurai Spaghetti Western the rhythmic, blood-soaked spectacle it is.

Most changes occur in the first half of the film; the Klingon proverb at the start has been replaced by a dedication to Japanese cinema icon Kinji Fukasaku, well known in the West for directing Batoru Rowaiaru (2000), better known as Battle Royale, which is widely regarded as the blueprint for The Hunger Games (2012). Its Asian predecessor features Chiaki Kuriyama, who immortalised herself in Kill Bill as Gogo Yubari—as seen in the photograph below. For two decades, you’ve seen a truncated version of the Sofie Fatale (Julie Dreyfus) interrogation scene, the full version of which is even darker in tone. Halfway through, a fifteen-minute musical interlude has been spliced in. And those are the changes made to a film that has aged like a fine wine, standing the test of time with two shakes of a lamb’s tail and two arms tied around its back. The masterful editing by the late, great Sally Menke, set to the beat of Tarantino’s eclectic choice of music, is still intact, providing us, as ever, with a bladed avenger’s vibrant journey.

Chapter Four: Never a Dull Blade

Much of the original duology has remained the same, but I could still explore this fusion with a surprisingly fresh perspective. Not having seen either volume for years was surely helpful. And it’s not just the passage of time between me and what I remembered that has granted me a proverbial pair of new eyes—or, well, one, then. During the Intermission, said it best: now that we’re older, we have a much better understanding of the various references. This is absolutely true for me, especially when it comes to music cues. Creatively, Tarantino is highly indebted to the Italian visionary Sergio Leone; anyone familiar with his visual language will instantly spot the fingerprints.

Pieces of the soundtrack to his masterpiece—and my personal favourite!—Il Buono, Il Brutto, Il Cattivo/The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966) by Maestro Ennio Morricone can be heard in Kill Bill, alongside his scores for other classic productions. Over the years, I have grown as a movie buff, and my knowledge of—as well as my appreciation for—cinema from around the world has equally expanded. And that makes my reacquaintance with this love letter to exploitation cinema even more fun. Its plethora of nods and allusions to grimy gems and Technicolor evergreens makes me put this vengeful roller coaster on a pedestal right next to those. Ultimately, withholding its release for over twenty years was the right move. Momentum was built, admiration accumulated, legend grown, all while waiting for the right moment to strike like a deadly viper from the tall grass…

Last Chapter: Remain Seated Until the End

Filled to the brim with exciting takes on stock characters that have a flair for the dramatic, Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair is an ode to cult cinema that could have been produced in the last few years, if I hadn’t known better. Its age doesn’t show for a second, but its longevity sure as Hell does! I would get why some viewers would be hit by tidal waves of nostalgia, but its timeless qualities are the reason I remain exactly where—and especially when—I am. The film still captivates me, just as it did half my lifetime ago. I do catch myself looking at the protagonist from new angles, though. Knowing that she must have caused countless volumes of suffering in her previous life as an assassin, I started wondering if I considered the Bride’s quest for retribution justified.

Then again, I also never take the past for Clint Eastwood’s The Man With No Name into account, so I shall refrain from adopting a double standard. Uma Thurman’s character is an enigma and should be regarded as such. Her violent adventure has been iconic from the get-go, and will remain so for decades to come. Controversially, one way to ensure this takes place after the end credits. It takes the shape of a ten-minute animated short called The Lost Chapter: Yuki’s Revenge (2025), using the engine, world, and characters of the popular Fortnite (2017) video game, is supposedly based on an unfilmed chapter that’s set early in the Kill Bill story. Sadly, I think it contributes nothing of value at all, except as a possible portal to Tarantino’s work down the road for kids who are currently still too young.

So yeah, you may want to leave the cinema after the feature presentation’s credits—as well as heads—have ceased rolling. I’ll leave that up to you, but I definitely recommend this definitive version of this massacring masterpiece!

Omae wa mou shindeiru!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair (2004), Lionsgate

Summary

Title: Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair
Year: 2004
Country: United States
Director: Quentin Tarantino
Genre: Neo-noir/Martial arts/Spaghetti Western
Running time: 275 minutes
Conclusion: I’ve heard several people say that this was never their favourite entry in the cult director’s filmography, but that the complete version made them appreciate it much more. I wholeheartedly agree, as the story—not unlike the blood—flows even better!
Grade: 9.0/10
Viewed on: The big screen at Slieker Film

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

Solid ground under your feet, a specific as well as a mutual objective in mind and undying love and respect for one another. These are the cornerstones of any healthy relationship, right? All noses pointed in the same direction, ready for whatever adventure comes your way. Every obstacle is tackled by a tight unit. I hate throwing in cliches like ‘teamwork makes the dream work,’ but the gist of that is what I’m going for here. Harmony and progress spring from the well of a strong and flourishing family dynamic.

But as cracks begin to show, fanning the flames of passion will risk terrible eruptions, possibly leading to a fatal explosion that no one in the tight-knit circle can escape. Loss of alignment and the rise of resentment culminate in a pressure that won’t ease without effort from all involved. Cooler heads should prevail, as the saying goes. However, the misplacement of a collective goal severely limits the available options. It’s sink or swim, abandon ship, women and children first!

No, I haven’t come up with any new theory about the rules of attraction and the ramifications of falling out of love. Neither does the film I’ll discuss today. Yet, its story literally pulled me in every direction. Solid communication and taking stock of your partner’s needs are perfect ways to prevent cracks from forming in the first place. Wish it were that easy, of course. Instead, the second hand of the clock ticks ever louder and louder in Smash Palace (1981) by New Zealand director Roger Donaldson. But the sound is lost in the violent roar of motorised fury…

Start Your Engines

A white Peugeot 504 languidly makes its way through the winding roads of the North Island Volcanic Plateau. It passes through a desolate yet impressive landscape before crashing violently. There is neither a trace nor a mention of the driver, but car yard owner and former international racecar pilot, Al Shaw (Bruno Lawrence), is called in to tow the wreck. He operates a garage with Tiny (Desmond Kelley) and tinkers away on a green Ford renovation project for his friend, police officer Ray Foley (Keith Aberdein). Clouds gather on the horizon as his wife, Jacqui (Anna Jemison), receives phone calls from prospective buyers interested in the yard. Al, however, feels fine where he is and refuses to entertain the idea.

His pigheadedness builds pressure within their marriage. Because, even though Al has everything he wants and needs, Jacqui feels lost and unable to adapt to their remote location. What’s more, she doesn’t consider the garage and the surrounding harsh countryside a safe area for their little daughter, Georgie (Greer Robson), to grow up in. Neither is willing to budge on the matter, leaving it unresolved and allowing the resulting rift to fester. Her husband’s extreme workaholism leads Jacqui to attend social events by herself. And as her loneliness drives her into the arms of Ray, Al’s world completely falls apart. But he won’t accept defeat, and the race is still on…

Erratic Curves

Block the sun, and flowers won’t grow. Or rather, cutting off oxygen will extinguish all life. A relationship is no different; its participants need room to blossom, breathe and thrive. Jacqui requires a change of scenery, while Al longs for his wife and daughter. Both are deprived of what they desperately need, with devastating results. Even for the most experienced driver, this track becomes increasingly difficult to navigate. Like the car in the beginning, the situation is bound to spin out of control. And as that comes to pass, who will emerge from the wreckage?

In a way, the protagonist of Smash Palace serves as a callback to that of Les Quatre Cents Coups (1959), a French classic I reviewed a couple of weeks ago. While Al’s erratic response to his situation is inexcusable, I catch myself feeling more sympathy for him than I possibly should. Or, at the very least, I understand the impossible situation these two find themselves in. Al’s life is in rural Horopito, while Jacqui wants to spend hers practically anywhere else. A compromise isn’t possible; which turn are they supposed to make? A fork in the road looms, as their vehicle accelerates.

The Scenic Route

Believe it or not, Steven Spielberg’s now-classic debut, Duel (1971), was the first film on my mind as Smash Palace sped off. That’s mostly because of the dusty, sun-baked earth tones featured in both, though one might argue that each story also showcases a central character in extreme mental torment. However, the way Al lashes out, he has more in common with Carey Loftin’s unseen—and unhinged!—truck driver than with the mild-mannered David Mann, played by Dennis Weaver.

I must admit that I only reached this conclusion way after the credits had rolled, and merely made the visual connection whilst absorbing the imagery. The huge impression these two titles made on me is another thing they have in common. I also didn’t expect much in either case.

That sounds unfair, but I anticipated no greatness from Spielberg’s first time at the wheel, as I knew the production was originally made for television. Boy, was I wrong, but that’s a story for another day. And as for Smash Palace, I predicted something else entirely. And that was based on the Arrow Video artwork, which shows a shotgun-wielding man with a little girl standing atop a pile of car wrecks. It led me to mistakenly expect something of a post-apocalyptic B-movie, akin to Mad Max (1979), which was released not long before and had received a high-octane, hugely successful sequel in 1981, the very same year Donaldson’s third feature came out.

But calling the latter semi-professional or even amateurish would be a great mistake, not to mention a grave insult, as the end result is absolutely moving and extremely well-made. Yet the beautiful but dated-looking colours and the awe-inspiring remote locations almost made me judge this boo- I mean, film, by its cover. I should also mention the varied and effective mood-setting soundtrack by New Zealand composer Sharon O’Neill, ranging from synth-laden ambient to jazz and piano, which beautifully underscores the family’s imminent collision course.

The Passenger

A loving marriage is in tatters, a solid friendship lies in ruin, and the way forward becomes paved with potholes, obstacles and blown-up bridges. Now that he fears he’s lost Jacqui to Ray, Al has his little passenger to think about. Despite not being a parent myself, I’ve seen relationships disintegrate up close when there was a child in the mix. For all parties concerned—the film’s central figures and the viewer—little Georgie becomes the moral anchor, the deciding factor. Had she not been there, the former lovers could despise and ignore each other for the rest of their lives, and follow up on their dreams in peace. But that would also leave us without a proper story.

My heart bled for the poor lass. Played with poignant authenticity by a young Greer Robson, Georgie served as both the point of contention in a lovers’ quarrel and a beacon of hope. Surely, the well-being of their daughter should bring the combatants to their senses and inspire them to reach an agreement, or at least an understanding? But no, Jacqui is unwilling to remain unhappy, and Al allows his darker, jealous and possessive side to take over, ultimately dragging his beloved daughter into the literal firing line during the film's final, desperate U-turn. A fatal crash becomes unavoidable, as everyone around them braces for impact. Even Georgie’s innocence cannot prevent this vehicle from swerving off the road.

Dead End

When it comes to the subjects of these reviews, I’m not always confident about the route I’ll take. Yes, I’m usually comfortable with my decision, but I tend to lower my expectations so as not to be disappointed. The grand success that this little forty-five-year-old jewel turned out to be took me completely by surprise. I saw a certain quality build up, and subconsciously, I kept asking myself: when is this going to decline? Fortunately, it never did. Instead, this outstanding family drama/thriller picked up its steady pace and took me for a wild ride on a highway I hadn’t seen on a map anywhere.

Smash Palace definitely looks its age, the same way that a song by, say, The Doors, sounds it: both are definitely products of their time, and neither has lost an ounce of relevance. But while the psychedelic rock band never stopped taking the world by storm, the film I just discussed enjoys less than a fraction of that kind of popularity. I’m not arrogant enough to think this review will lead to a complete renaissance, but I do hope you’ll give this touching story a chance. The characters are fully engrossing, the scenery and colours prove mesmerising, and the tragedy on display makes for an astonishing, heartfelt experience. The multi-layered implications of the ending needed a minute to sink in. No, longer than that. But I’ll let you figure those out for yourself whilst covering these last few miles.

Now, where did I leave my bloody keys this t- ah, there they are!

Right, I’m off!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Smash Palace (1981), Roadshow Films

Summary

Title: Smash Palace
Year: 1981
Country: New Zealand
Director: Roger Donaldson
Genre: Drama/Thriller
Running time: 107 minutes
Conclusion: Passion can be a terrible engine, as it drives all restraints to snap, which is beautifully documented in this Kiwi gem from the eighties.
Grade: 8.9/10
Viewed on: Arrow Player

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

Turn on the news, and the first thing you most likely instinctively want to do is change the channel. Morality and curiosity have a good chance of overcoming the desire for ignorant bliss, even though looking away is a thousand times easier. To intentionally remain unaware, however, allows for history to keep repeating itself. Opening ourselves up to learning about the dark pages of our collective past is our only hope of moving forward and paving the way for peace and equality.

I’m not naive enough to truly believe that we as a species care for harmony that much. Exploiting and targeting our differences has defined humans for centuries. Why stop now? Right after World War II, a slogan in my native Netherlands erupted: Dat nooit meer, meaning Never (this) again, though only eight months after the Germans capitulated, the Dutch entered the Indonesian War of Independence, killing thousands upon thousands in an armed conflict with the aim of retaining dominion of a now former colony.

Sorry for the pessimistic tone so far. But the film I’m talking about today is even bleaker than the hypocrisy of certain post-war sentiments. Especially because, half a century thereafter, one of the biggest examples of the hollowness of such language presented itself. Despite being out of shape for decades, people in Europe still turned out fully capable of persecuting and annihilating one another. The results of the unforgivable crimes committed still echo in that part of the world.

While Quo Vadis, Aida? (2020) should function as a deterrent for humanity, it serves only as evidence that this vicious cycle will never bloody end.

Pater noster, qui es in caelis

It’s July 1995, and the situation in Srebrenica is dire. In a tense conversation, Colonel Thom Karremans (Johan Heldenbergh), the commander of the Dutchbat troops stationed there, promises the Mayor (Ermin Bravo) that NATO planes will come to their aid in case the Army of Republika Srpska (VRS) advances into the town, which has been designated as a Safe Area. Former schoolteacher and current official interpreter for the United Nations, Aida Selmanagić (Jasna Đuričić), has the unenviable job of relaying these messages back and forth.

Thousands of civilians have already fled to the UN base in Potočari. By now, the place is filled to capacity. Still, Aida gathers her husband and their two sons to join these refugees. As she is forced to leave her loved ones behind in the crowd, General Ratko Mladić (Boris Isakovic) marches through the deserted town unhindered. Karremans, virtually powerless, channels his inner Neville Chamberlain. He drums up a makeshift delegation from among the fugitives to negotiate with the aggressor. Mladić promises safe passage to the displaced people, but he holds all the cards, and the writing is on the wall…

Adveniat regnum tuum

At the risk of repeating myself: humanity is incapable of learning. As long as nationalism exists, so does the strife between the party that feels wrong and their opponents/targets, whom the former feel should be subdued, deported or even eliminated. This is exactly what happened after the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia broke up in 1992. After the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s independence was established, Bosnian Serbs mobilised and moved to take control of the country, cleansing Bosnian Croats and Bosniaks in the process.

It’s a violent, tragic, and complex history, which I was way too young to understand when I was a kid, and many people fled the war towards my home country. If you’d like to understand the genesis of this genocide, I recommend you view the video above. It was co-created by Substack’s resident historian, Karin Smilović, otherwise known as The Americanist. The short documentary offers you an excellent timeline of events and an overview of the parties involved. Ultimately, it provides a context for the film, should you desire one, and a way better explanation of the conflict than I could ever give you.

Fiat voluntas

Renowned filmmaker Steven Spielberg had an excellent justification to produce Schindler’s List (1993) in English and without subtitles, just so his target English-speaking audience wouldn’t be distracted from the drama displayed on the screen. The danger of having characters of multiple nationalities converse in the same tongue is a lack of distinction between people or factions. Also, in my opinion, authenticity may be lost when the original languages aren’t spoken. Fortunately, Quo Vadis, Aida? basks in linguistic correctness, even though it was personally painful to connect my native Dutch to this devastating story. The impressive audio mix also made great strides in drawing me into the narrative.

To say this film grabbed me by the throat is a severe understatement. The extreme circumstances of sweltering heat, despair, and imminent doom: I could feel, and almost smell them. Karremans’ unfulfilled promises sting like a slap in the face when Mladić enters Srebrenica unopposed. The way he calmly speaks and agrees to safe passage for the helpless refugees with the assembled UN representatives—see bottom screenshot—immediately tells you they walked into the lion’s den, even without knowing the history. And then there are the personal stakes for our destitute protagonist, Aida, who must help Dutchbat in keeping the desperate people safe, even as they’re unwilling to shelter her family.

Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie

The film—its title, which stems from the apocryphal Acts of Peter, means Where are you going, Aida?—is not just a plausible yet fictional story set against the backdrop of real events. The main character is based on Hasan Nuhanovic, who was the sole member of his immediate family to survive the massacre. Not knowing this beforehand, I was captivated nonetheless. Actual news footage, which I recalled from both memory and the video above, was recreated in great detail. But a central scene that cemented the story for me was Aida’s reminiscing about happier times during a pageant in the early nineties.

Time freezes for a moment, and why wouldn’t it? There was not a care in the world. But during a supposedly cheerful circle dance, our main character comes face-to-face with sombre-looking people for whom she feels responsible. One by one, they look her in the eye, reminding her of her duty to them, before she wakes up. This sequence, not brutal or violent at all, may be more shocking and gut-wrenching than anything that precedes or follows it. Even without participating or control over the events unfolding, I felt guilty, somehow. Perhaps it has to do with my compatriots being there, and seeing/hearing my country be involved in the massacre. That, and/or the film itself is just that powerful.

Libera nos a malo

That last part is most definitely true. For the first time, I saw and understood the logistical nightmare of the ‘evacuation’ and how the Dutchbat troops were rendered completely impotent without the necessary support. However, the way Karremans and his deputy, Major Franken (Raymond Thiry), trust Mladić will keep his word, makes you want to yell at the screen—and possibly fling heavy objects at it.

The visual language that Austrian cinematographer Christine A. Maier displays is tremendously powerful. Her mosaic of visages echoes Sergio Leone’s masterful use of human physiognomy to tell a story.

Whether or not you’re familiar with the fall of Srebrenica or the Bosnian War in general, I can’t blame you if you associate these events with the systemised persecution that took place half a century earlier. Just take a closer look at the way Aida is given a pass by the UN soldiers, who almost expect her to be grateful to be torn away from her family; it’s reminiscent of the way Władysław Szpilman (Adrien Brody) was spared from transport in The Pianist (2002), but never saw his parents and siblings again. The videographer following Mladić around in an effort to boost the General’s image painfully mirrors the Theresienstadt (1945) film, commissioned by the Nazis to show how peaceful and orderly life in the concentration camps supposedly was. And what to think of the Serbs kicking back while their militias are killing their neighbours? Does humanity actually exist, or is it merely a utopian concept?

I say, see this film for yourself and be your own judge.

See you in the next one!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Quo Vadis, Aida? (2020), Cinéart Nederland

Summary

Title: Quo Vadis, Aida?
Year: 2020
Country: Bosnia and Herzegovina (international co-production, made with many countries’ participation)
Director: Jasmila Zbanic
Genre: War drama
Running time: 100 minutes
Conclusion: A painful but gripping reminder of the horrors humans can inflict on their fellow man, and the desperate lengths people will go to in order to protect the ones they love. Truly heartbreaking and impossible to look away from, no matter how tempting that would be.
Grade: 9.5/10
Viewed on: CineMember

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

Times change, and age brings much-coveted wisdom. Supposedly, anyway: only a fool would concede to such simplicity. The problems with unstoppable forces and immovable objects are embedded within their names. After a critical situation comes to a head, it must be assessed. In this case, the life of a boy is in the balance. Without proper guidance, who knows where he’ll end up? And whose responsibility is he, really?

In my country, much is made of child welfare nowadays. The news is rife with stories of failing policy and even misconduct by healthcare workers. At times, it’s almost as if these services, created to protect and guide our youth, don’t exist. Well, in France, things didn’t seem much different many decades ago. No, I’m not pointing fingers at systems here, but things weren’t always better in the ‘good ole days,’ is all I’m trying to say. Case in point, Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Léaud), a Parisian youth with a rampant allergy to authority.

Sure, he’s supposed to show some sense of responsibility by the age of fourteen, but the reaction to his streak of rebellion is, to me, at the heart of this film. Nearly 70 years after its debut, it never ceases to make an impact. That might be due in part to my curiosity as to how cases of such a nature were handled in those days. Nevertheless, I can safely say that François Truffaut’s semi-autobiographical project Les Quatre Cents Coups (1959)—internationally released as The 400 Blows—has effortlessly stood the test of time.

Once Upon a Time in Paris…

If you open its cage, the bird in it will fly away. Antoine is so desperate to escape that he attempts to pry the locks that restrain him at every turn. Paying attention to his teacher, nicknamed ‘Petite Feuille’ (Guy Decomble)—translated variably as ‘Little Leaf’ and ‘Sour Puss’—is at the very bottom of his list of priorities. He’d much rather cause mischief, visit the carnival and sneak into movie theatres with his friend René (Patrick Auffay), who seems to be a conman in the making. His continuous truancy and slacking grades, however, do not go unnoticed.

What goes on inside that head of his? No one seems to know or care, as rules simply need to be respected and followed. At home, his father is too lenient, his mother constantly gives him the cold shoulder, and the couple always quarrel. Loudly. At night. School isn’t a safe haven either, with a harsh, strict teacher. No wonder Antoine keeps running away. His rebellious conduct comes to a head, and no one takes the trouble to try to understand the boy. What will become of him?

Dark Sarcasm in the Classroom

I usually hate it when a film merely shows things happening and leaves no hook for the audience to hold on to. I cannot accuse Les Quatre Cents Coups of that offence, not completely. That’s because the protagonist proves interesting and his fate is intriguing, even though he seems to lack a clear objective. Then again, one of his major weaknesses is his careless attitude toward the truth. Perhaps that’s why I would blindly follow him everywhere, practically. Well, almost; vision is required to witness the film, of course.

One shouldn’t want to give up one’s eyes when presented with this story. The exquisite black-and-white photography by Henri Decaë paints a beautiful, if troubled, picture of Paris. Antoine and his parents live in a hovel, which is another reason for his constant desire to be elsewhere. The city and the entertainment found therein are way more appealing. And constantly, I wonder if I’m too soft on our young hero. Sure, he needs to learn that life doesn’t come at his beck and call all the time. But I still can’t blame him for attempting to take control of the little he has. Is that bad?

We Don’t Need No Education

Both in the title and the preceding subheadings, you might spot references to the famous “Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2” single by British prog rockers Pink Floyd, from their album The Wall (1979). It was used to great effect in the accompanying music video and the feature film, surprisingly titled Pink Floyd – The Wall (1982). The age difference between main composer/lyricist Roger Waters and Antoine/Léaud is negligible, so despite being divided by the English Channel, their formative experiences might have been roughly the same.

I’m referring to the school system. If Waters and Truffaut—the latter, as I alluded to before, based Antoine on himself—are to be believed, the classrooms in those days were more like army barracks. The teacher's rule proved absolute, and any dissent was made an example of immediately. Kids were turned into obedient slaves instead of being allowed to develop a personality. No wonder the protagonist needs an out, yet only the slightest effort is made to help him turn his life around. I must absolutely disapprove of his running away, lying and stealing, most definitely. But considering his circumstances makes it increasingly difficult not to pick his side.

Life 101

I haven’t seen a young adolescent required to grow up that fast since the main character in Idi i Smotri (1985)—those who’ve read my previous work may remember that title. A lot happens to shape this young life. As I’ve said, an educational institution that tries to break him, parents who can’t agree on his upbringing and also friends leading him astray. Antoine is simply too preoccupied with avoiding responsibility to consider the consequences of his actions. At its core, Léaud and Truffaut show us a blank slate being scribbled on by those around him.

For the most part, our central figure doesn’t like what he reads. He lashes out by raising hell—the literal translation of the title—which exacerbates his problems. Whenever an opportunity for genuine connection arises, he usually has to lie to maintain it. That said, the other party’s concern often feels forced and disingenuous. A mutual understanding, therefore, remains unestablished. The infrequent lights at the horizon dip and fade, and our hero seems fated to trust no one but himself.

One Coin, Two Sides

The setting, mood, and black-and-white imagery make Les Quatre Cents Coups feel almost like a predecessor to Mathieu Kassovitz’s dark, tragic social thriller La Haine (1995), though much less violent. Both works also deal with secrets, run at a pleasant but languid pace, and show tremendous acting. In and of itself, Truffaut’s debut is a beautiful and touching portrait of a youngster attempting but failing to find warmth in his surroundings, but for me personally, there’s even more to it than that. Because the question arises: should I forgive the main character?

I have no idea if this was the director’s intention, but I keep discussing my position on Antoine with myself. How much responsibility am I allowed to place on that boy’s shoulders? He’s technically still a child, but also at an age at which he should know better. Ultimately, at fourteen, he should receive inspiration and direction in his education, as well as both moral guidance and warmth at home. It’s safe to say he receives none of these, and I keep wondering what I’d do in his situation, and if I can look him—and myself, for that matter—in the eye in that poignant final scene.

This makes Les Quatre Cents Coups deeply heartbreaking, extremely compelling, and absolutely deserving of my highest recommendation.

Please go see it for yourself and let me know what you think.

Good luck! Goodbye!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Les Quatre Cents Coups (1959), MK2 Films / Les Films du Carrosse

Summary

Title: Les Quatre Cents Coups / The 400 Blows
Year: 1959
Country: France
Director: François Truffaut
Genre: Coming-of-age drama
Running time: 96 minutes
Conclusion: A beautiful profile of a youth rebelling against authority, life, and himself. As relevant today as it was over six decades ago!
Grade: 8.9/10
Viewed on: MUBI

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

Sometimes, after a long day, even the lowest-priority chores are at the bottom of your personal to-do list. That may include cooking, but you also refuse to go hungry. Perhaps this means ordering out, popping in a ready-made meal, or preparing something very basic. But by no means would you root through your trash can, slap what you find in a dish, push it into a pre-heated oven, and then call that dinner. Unfortunately, that is exactly what some filmmakers do to their audiences.

I so wish I were exaggerating, but today’s topic is nothing more than the sad reality of ‘fresh’ streaming content. Though actually, the production I’m detailing below was supposedly made for cinemas. I’d lie my arse off if I were to feign surprise at the reluctance of any self-respecting distributor to touch this steaming pile of shit. Cinema is dying, and projects such as these are the noose around its brittle neck.

Look, I get how indie and/or semi-professional scribes and directors go out and make the most of it. That’s how B-movies are made, and I love those, honestly! In fact, when I go out to find something low-grade to watch, I occasionally stumble upon an actually great film. I expected less than nothing out of Rabbit (2018), for instance, but I learned that Jesse James Miller and actor/co-writer Derek Hamilton, with limited means, managed to cook up something really special—to my British readers, you can now catch that little gem on Prime Video. You’re very welcome, don’t mention it!

The budget for Thrash (2026) looks to have been way higher. But what have its creators actually done with that money? Well, what they didn’t do is make a decent film, despite having the resources to do so. Many enthusiasts turn their often silly ideas into something entertaining; something watchable. That appears hard to do these days. In a time that sees clicks dominate quality, don’t hold your breath for streaming platforms to put out originals that are made to be celebrated or stand the test of time.

In other words, here we go again…

Gods help me…

Annieville, Are You Okay?

After some explanatory titles on the dangers of floods caused by severe Atlantic Hurricanes and the increase of those in recent decades, the film opens with a deluge of news reports about how devastating Category 5 cyclone Henry, which is threatening the fictitious town of Annieville, South Carolina and the surrounding area, is going to be. You can simply put this down as Thrash’s version of storms are bad, m’kay? Yeah, thanks, movie, we get it.

The town is being evacuated, though as always, some are left behind, either by choice or not. First, the audience is introduced to Bruce Lee/Kill Bill cosplayer Dakota (Whitney Peak), who thinks the weather will calm down and spare her home; the house she lives in on her own since her mother died. And, as expected by now, we do not learn this tidbit gradually, but have this info dumped on us by a random neighbour who bumps into the agoraphobic young woman—I, I haven’t seen yew in fowrevir! Nauwt since yir mawm passed!—when she is forced outside to buy food, as all deliveries have been cancelled due to the elements.

Then we meet Lisa (Phoebe Dynevor), a heavily pregnant woman whose boss demanded she come into work despite the storm picking up. Streets get flooded and—surprise, surprise!—her car gets pinned down, and she’s stuck in her vehicle. And there are no emergency services available to help her. And the water is rising. And her water—because why the Hell not?—is breaking. And the prom is tomor- oh wait, strike that one.

We’re also forced to endure the presence of siblings Ron (Stacy Clausen), Dee (Alyla Browne), and Will (Dante Ubaldi), who live under the rule of their exploitative and callous foster parents. This couple are sure their house is safe enough. But is it, dear reader? Anyway, elsewhere, Dakota’s uncle, marine biologist Dr Dale Edwards (Djimon Hounsou), is worried about his niece and prepares to move heaven and earth to get her to safety. And he has every reason to, because the flooded area is swarming with—gasp!—sharks…!

Why Do Studios Hate Us?

A shark movie, filled with old-fashioned excitement? If that’s what you’re after, Netflix is ​​the place to be, according to the editor of a movie website who obviously hasn’t seen Thrash for themselves. I, as you’ve probably gathered by now, beg to differ. But hey, I understand that not every film soars to great heights. Not every director strives to create the modern equivalent of Citizen Kane (1941)—though in this context, Jaws (1975) would be a better reference. But there is one thing I do require from every audiovisual story that I consume.

And that is effort. Which is like Waldo: nowhere to be found. Lest we get confused or bored, the plot starts right away. The way the unrelenting wind and water batter the stragglers, we as viewers cannot escape violent exposition dumps, including those that feature the unnatural naming of characters in full to introduce them. A tanker truck full of blood and offal that’s tossed around like a toy by the flood…? No way would that come into play later as a giant shark magnet, now would it?!

In other words, studios mock us on an epic scale, for some reason. They spoonfeed us everything, while we would rather explore the banquet ourselves.

Wanted: Emotion

Any well-executed story is a journey. The excitement comes from putting yourselves in the protagonist’s shoes—even in those of Hobbits and other characters that forego footwear! My point is, there’s one or more sympathetic—or at least interesting—figure that you identify with, making the time spent with them worth your while. And in Thrash, I couldn’t find anyone to care about, simply because the story was told in such a disparaging way.

Almost from the very start, I dislike everyone in this flick because they either make stupid decisions, dump exposition, amount to nothing more than shells of better-written characters, are genuinely unfunny or a combination of these factors. People can’t or won’t leave Annieville, and I can’t help but not care about their fate. But supposedly, I am not in on the joke when I definitely should be, if only I realise who is responsible for this dumpster fire.

Are We Being Played…?

And actually, I do know who’s pulling the strings here. In fact, the identity of the puppet master is the reason I wanted to give Thrash a chance. Norwegian writer/director Tommy Wirkola previously brought us the zombie horror parody Død Snø (2009)—internationally marketed as Dead Snow—and its 2014 sequel, which I had great fun with. The same goes for Violent Night (2022), the bloody take on Father Christmas that he also helmed. These are no masterpieces by any stretch, but they don’t need to be.

Then why did he completely fail to amuse me this time? Apparently, I just don’t get it. There are those who opine that the enjoyment comes from the fact that this ridiculous plot is presented in such a serious fashion. I’m not buying that, because I was simply not entertained, even when considering this notion. You could invest the same amount of time in Sharknado (2013), which is even more outrageous and stupid, but knows exactly what it is. Yes, the effects are fuck ugly, but that’s all part of the fun.

You may compare that franchise to George Lucas’ prequels to Star Wars (1977) and link Thrash to however The Walt Disney Company chooses to tarnish the space opera’s legacy: you thought you hated The Phantom Menace (1999) and what came right after, but now you realise it could be way worse.

Everyone Makes Mistakes

Mine was that I had a bowl of snacks left, which I could have poured back into the bag and called it a night. But no, I opted to play a movie. My error in judgment was picking this one, which contained an unsurprising lack of surprises. Against all hope, I kept anticipating Lisa to give birth to a shark-human hybrid for some reason, but no, of course not. That would mean entertainment, which is not welcome in Thrash.

Comparing that to Wirkola’s previous works, I have genuinely started to worry. Are you okay, man? Did someone put a gun to your head and force you to make this? In fact, did they pull the trigger, peel off your skin, start to wear it and pass off for you? Unlikely, I know. Still, that’d be a better story than what you came up with. I know you can do better. Here’s hoping that you’ll be back in shape when your newest project comes around.

Anyway. No more words need be spoken about this.

So long!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Thrash (2026), Netflix

Summary

Title: Thrash
Year: 2026
Country: United States
Director: Tommy Wirkola
Genre: Survival thriller
Running time: 86 minutes
Conclusion: If this film takes itself seriously, it’s ridiculous. If it’s a parody or simply calling out genre conventions, it’s neither funny nor effective. All it does is bore me, offend me, and piss me off.
Grade: 0.5/10—the only kudos are for its short running time.
Viewed on: Netflix

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

A year ago, I read an article revealing that an open valve on the wreck of the RMS Titanic proved that the ship’s engineers worked tirelessly, right up to the end, to keep the lights on. This made me wonder whether air pockets could have formed, if people might have been trapped inside them, and how long they would’ve lasted. I found a short video on the Historic Travels channel that explained it would have taken only seconds.

From then on, my girlfriend and I kept following this enthusiastic historian, meeting our friend Mike Brady from Oceanliner Designs along the way. Despite it being very unfair to call me a-romantic, it took our relationship twelve years for us to finally see James Cameron’s worldwide smash hit Titanic (1997) together! The nautical giantess’ legendary status led us to also become highly interested in her two sister ships, RMS Olympic and the one that lends her name to Brian Trenchard-Smith’s TV movie torture device, Britannic (2000)—an atrocious experience we’re still recovering from. Please send help! CQD! SOS!

Anyway, naturally, we keep our eyes peeled for iceber- I mean, other audiovisual materials about ships and life on the oceans in their historical context that we can get our hands on. Have you ever been told to be careful what you wish for? Because that’s sound advice, I can attest to that! No matter how well-intended what you end up with might be, I will still view it through the lens of a cinephile. And a film critic, at that. In these positions, I require—nay, demand!—that factual basis and the utmost respect for storytelling go hand in hand. Is that too much to ask for?

Well, I guess we’ll have to see how William Hale’s television production of S.O.S. Titanic (1979) holds up. Come take the plunge with me!

On a Sea of Glass

So. Right. Okay. This is the section of the review in which I usually explain the plot to give you an impression of the film I’m talking about. Yeah, well, that’s going to be a bit tricky here. Like the ship itself before it, this historical drama has multiple compasses. But at least on the ill-fated steamer, they all pointed in the same direction. Nevertheless, I’ll attempt to give you a brief overview of what’s going on in this first-ever colour production that directly addresses the disaster.

You see, we’re following a whole host of characters. As per the disclaimer right at the start, many of these were based on real persons—even bearing their names—and others were only inspired by survivors or those who perished in the sinking and given fictional identities. We’re introduced to several historical figures, such as:

• John Jacob Astor IV (David Janssen), at that point thought to be the richest man in the world

• J. Bruce Ismay (Sir Ian Holm), chairman and managing director of the White Star Line, Titanic was considered the company’s flagship

• Captain Edward J. Smith (Harry Andrews), the commander of the ocean liner on her fatal maiden voyage

• Lawrence Beesley (David Warner, who also played Spicer Lovejoy in Cameron’s take on the catastrophe almost two decades on), a school teacher on holiday to visit his brother in Toronto

• Mary Jane Sloan (Dame Helen Mirren), a stewardess from Belfast

• Mag- I mean, Margaret “Molly” Brown (Cloris Leachman), an American socialite, suffragist and philanthropist, travelling back to the United States after visiting her daughter in Paris

…and many, many more.

Throughout the plot, these characters reveal their motivations and doubts, as well as their adjustments to life aboard the ship, until destiny does its utmost to checkmate them.

What Do You See?

Hale and screenwriter James Costigan should be commended for their attempt to show various people on the ship divided by class. The elegant luxury in which the elite socialised was contrasted with steerage passengers, who were overjoyed by having to share a room with ‘only’ three other people! We’re taught that Titanic was riddled with many minor technical defects, which was not uncommon for the time. And another big plus for me was that J. Bruce Ismay, who famously survived the sinking in real life and subsequently became the victim of a brutal character assassination for supposed cowardice, was not portrayed as a villain for once.

In fact, this story completely lacks one! Until the berg is struck, there is no central conflict to speak of, so prepare to be bored while still on board.

The only film footage of the actual ship known to exist shows her being fitted, so it’s definitely another ship—possible RMS Queen Mary, also used as a shooting location—shown to be launched, followed by a split-second clip of Titanic’s famous sister, RMS Olympic. Of course, it would have been an enormously costly affair to recreate the liner’s look in any sort of detail, but nothing of her iconic architecture is shown. In fact, the exterior is all wrong, with the actual bridge having a straighter front and not showing the bulge seen in this film.

Iceberg, Right Ahead!

And if that wasn’t bad enough, S.O.S. Titanic buckles under its own weight right from the start. Yes, it tries its hardest to be as historically accurate as possible, but that comes at the cost of the narrative. Especially through the dialogue, as ‘tell, don’t show’ must have been Hale’s mantra throughout production. Although many of the interactions between characters provide context that helps the viewer understand the portrayed times, it feels extremely inorganic.

Despite these huge info dumps and the average running time—there are several versions, but I saw the shorter one of 103 minutes—it took way too long for anything interesting to happen. I really don’t need to be transported straight to the catastrophe, but the film comprises many plot lines that don’t even receive a proper conclusion, leaving me completely indifferent; what’s even the point in some of them? It’s always great to see Dame Helen Mirren, don’t get me wrong. But her small part served no purpose whatsoever.

Many of the words spoken by the characters also forcibly and ironically allude to a foundering—though lifeboats are mentioned a lot less frequently than expected—and focus on disbelief that the Titanic is actually in trouble, since she was thought to be ‘unsinkable’; in reality, however, this was never advertised as such. Zooming in on that, the damage assessment by naval architect Thomas Andrews (Geoffrey Whitehead), who would not survive the disaster, is wrong. He says that it would take flooding five of the ship’s sixteen watertight compartments to compromise her, whereas the maximum to be breached was actually four.

Plus, the iceberg didn’t leave a ‘gash close to 300 ft (90m) in her side’, but several small openings that were nevertheless enough to bring the giantess down. Several other erroneous technical details, such as the liner not breaking in two, stem from a then-ongoing debate that began right after her loss in 1912; they were only resolved when the wreck was finally found in 1985.

Engine Room Flooded

I remind you—and myself, to be honest—again that we’re talking about a TV production. Plus, the year was 1979. By combining these two factors, one might expect many limitations. When seeing the ship from the Irish harbour of Queenstown—nowadays called Cobh—it’s painfully obvious from a standpoint of perspective, colour contrast and even the shape that we’re dealing with a matte painting. Such elements are enough to make one pick up their previously suspended disbelief. Another facet to consider is what ultimately killed my ability to go along with the controversial Nazi propaganda piece Titanic (1943): close-ups.

There’s nothing wrong with those as such, mind you. I get that an abundance of wide shots would have been impractical, as building a model to scale—which Cameron actually did—was too costly, but it also prevented me from believing I was watching the, at the time, biggest ship in the world. I had the same problem with the aforementioned film about the HMHS Britannic, but let’s not revisit that trauma. However, at times, you’re stuck with bits of foam floating in what must be a small tank in order to represent a vast ocean filled with icebergs. If that won’t break your illusion, I’m not sure what will.

Revisiting the same decks, cabins, hallways and state rooms over and over also doesn’t help. I’m not the biggest fan of Cameron’s romantic epic, set during the steamer’s first and final voyage, but it didn’t present me with the same hurdles. Neither did A Night to Remember (1958), come to think of it. Speaking of Roy Ward Baker’s legendary black-and-white adaptation of Walter Lord's famous book, colourised footage from it is heavily used in S.O.S. Titanic to depict the ship's sinking, the quality of which varies but is a huge mismatch with the rest of the visual elements. But it has to be said, these are the only moments that you get the feeling you’re looking at the actual Titanic, as the ocean liner on which this film was shot doesn’t resemble her in the slightest. I mean, look at that bow, and then pictures of the real thing; that’s borderline offensive!

Another thing that threw me off was the ADR. It was only very slight at times, but at various moments, the lip-syncing was terrible to witness. So not only was I forced to listen to the most contrived exposition, but I also had to see it leave the actor’s mouths in a way that didn’t match the audio. Plus, I’m not sure if this was my internet connection, but I was plagued by blurred and pixelated shots throughout; perhaps that footage wasn’t properly mastered? On a previous television, the backlight failed, forcing us to replace the entire device. The flickering we were subjected to made me believe our current screen was defective as well!

Sailing On The RMS Carpathia

Like the prematurely concluded journey of the titular passenger liner itself, I consider this film a tragedy of epic proportions. I couldn’t care less about private matters and personal challenges, especially because they don’t get resolved. One might find fault in Cameron’s choice to focus on the love between two people who never existed, but at least he told us a proper story. Castigan and Hale did no such thing. Perhaps the extended cut tied loose ends together more naturally, but I just sat there, watching a film collide with an iceberg and sink faster than the actual ship.

I attribute no blame to the cast, as they could not possibly improve what they were given unless they had revolted and taken command of the production. But both the narrative and technical limitations and issues left me with a bitter aftertaste. Could it be worse? Well, I mentioned Britannic (2000), didn’t I? That’s your answer. I couldn’t recommend S.O.S. Titanic to you with a straight face, but please steer clear of that monstrosity!

Guess I’d better end it here.

Thanks, once more, for tagging along!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for S.O.S. Titanic (1979), EMI Films / StudioCanal

Well, actually, a satirical TV promo. This was the best I could find, sorry.

Summary

Title: S.O.S. Titanic
Year: 1979
Country: United States/United Kingdom
Director: William Hale
Genre: Drama/History
Running time: 103 minutes
Conclusion: If ‘overplaying your hand’ wasn’t an expression yet in the late seventies, William Hale made damn sure it became one. Some facts and historical figures don’t magically turn into a solid story, especially not if the script lacks tension, the dialogue is merely throwing exposition around, and technical limitations make a fool out of you.
Grade: 4.0/10
Viewed on: Netflix

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

If you grow up in a country like mine—the Netherlands in the late Twentieth/early Twenty-First Century—then you might take freedom for granted. Guilty as charged. Most of the time, at least. I believe it’s important to stop and look at history and its repeating patterns. What happened eighty years ago would continue to occur in the decades that followed and still rears its ugly head in various corners of the world: complete governmental control over citizens’ every move and even their thoughts. How do you fight this oppression, and what alternatives do you have when you’re not up to that task?

For quite a while now, stories of free spirits in totalitarian regimes have fascinated me. One of the most excellent examples of this is George Orwell’s dystopian novel Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), in which the main character begins to question the Party led by Big Brother. He criticises the government in his secret diary, dreams of a revolution and the current rulers’ subsequent downfall and even covertly starts something unheard of: a love affair.

There are countless other examples. If you can get your hands on it, I highly recommend the documentary Ein Traum in Erdbeerfolie (2009)—also known as Comrade Couture—in which director Marco Wilms returns to his former stomping ground in former East Berlin to look up old friends with whom he partook in underground fashion shows in the eighties, which wasn’t without its risks: the Stasi—Ministerium für Staatssicherheit, the GDR’s secret police—were keeping a watchful eye. Another one I’d like to mention is Bahman Ghobadi’s musical drama Kasi az gorbehaye irani khabar nadareh (2009)—No One Knows about Persian Cats—about aspiring artists who want to start a rock band and leave Tehran for Europe, though obtaining travel documents appears nearly impossible. It features many local acts in a wide variety of genres that try to claim freedom in a system that won’t let them.

A little over a year ago, I reviewed Bogdan Muresanu’s film about the impending Romanian Revolution of 1989 called Anul Nou care n-a fost (2024)—which translates to The New Year That Never Came—on behalf of a previous employer. I won’t include that article here because it’s in Dutch and also fuck them. The reason I specifically mention it is that Alexandru Belc’s equally impressive piece Metronom (2022), which I’m discussing today, is set in the same country, but in a time when Nicolae Ceaușescu’s power was still absolute.

You Know That It Would Be Untrue

Bucharest, autumn 1972. Several youngsters are looking forward to a party that their friend Roxana (Mara Vicol) is throwing that evening, to be spent listening to records and to the Metronom show by popular expatriate DJ Cornel Chiriac on the banned Radio Free Europe station. Less cheerful are her friend Ana (Mara Bugarin) and her boyfriend Sorin (Șerban Lazarovici), as the latter is about to leave the country permanently with his family.

Because parting is such sweet sorrow, Ana tells Sorin that she won’t attend after all, but later goes back on that decision. The music and the general festive mood among her friends help her take her mind off things. Collectively, the group writes a letter to Chiriac, requesting him to play their favourite songs and stating their desire to escape the clutches of their dictatorial government. After an emotional encounter with Sorin, the next group of visitors consists of the secret police, who proceed to detain the students…

You Know That I Would Be A Liar

Films such as these give a great first inkling of what it must be like to live in a situation in which you must constantly be on your guard of what you say to whom, and constantly keep your head down. My own parents couldn’t tell me about this experience, having both been born after the Dutch occupation by the Germans in World War II. However, a former colleague and close friend of mine is actually Romanian.

His father and uncles told him that it is impossible to explain what living under the Communist rule was like to someone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. That made a big impression on me. It means that the two beautiful films I saw on the subject simply give me a small sense of the general dread that must have been felt by the country’s citizens, or at least those who had trouble falling in line with the Party’s doctrine. But that is definitely not to Metronom’s detriment; far from it, actually.

If I Was To Say To You

There was something I picked up on that could’ve been nothing, but for me personally added something significant to the story. It was the rigid way Ana danced that could just be due to shyness. Or, I thought, is it her inexperience in moving about freely? Each of these two reasons would, on its own, perfectly explain the introverted nature of her disposition. But considering this to be the first time she allows herself room for expression, completes this picture.

However, I also considered how unwise such a move was. The music was played so loudly that everyone in the adjoining apartments must have heard the commotion, ensuring the youngsters a one-way ticket to a jail cell! Then again, change cannot be achieved by simply doing nothing, right? Plus, apart from recognisable tunes such as Janis Joplin’s ‘Kozmic Blues’ and The Doors’ ‘Light My Fire’—could you guess?—I was treated to several unknown and more local electrifying tracks from the era that were begging to be played at full volume, so I can sort of understand these kids. Sort of being the active words, here, especially since Roxana and Ana were whispering to each other before the other guests arrived.

Girl, We Couldn’t Get Much Higher

Filmmakers have all kinds of tools at their disposal to instil claustrophobia in their audience. The aspect ratio is one of them, as Metronom’s is set at 1.375:1, which is slightly wider than 4:3. Even though we’re used to widescreen for decades now, this older standard hasn’t lost its effectiveness. The image truly gets boxed in, and in this story, you get the idea that the characters are boxed in. The aforementioned Anul Nou care n-a fost was also presented in this format, as was László Nemes’ devastating Holocaust pic Saul Fia (2015)—or Son of Saul—the narrow scope of which made it impossible for the viewer to look away.

The imposing yet bleak visuals, propelled by the film's sad, autumnal, sparsely decorated environs, make the sense of longing and liberty extremely tangible. The arrest and interrogation scenes effectively quell this hope. Though their fate is probably not as fatalistic, they might remind history aficionados of the fate of the non-violent White Rose resistance group in 1943 Munich, Germany, the most symbolic member of which was immortalised on film by actress Julia Jentsch, who played the title character in the biographical drama Sophie Scholl (2005). And, in a way, the closing scenes were my personal call-back to those of Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984), the famous adaptation by British director Michael Radford.

Come On Baby, Light My Fire

I have to include a note-to-self moment here: I shouldn’t read the descriptions of films I’m going to review, as I would rather enter them blindly. Not counting those whose subjects are specifically revealed in the poster, title or both. I somehow couldn’t stop myself this time. No matter, though, I was still completely enthralled by this tragic love story. Lead actress Bugarin, whose face is a peculiar mixture of many colleagues, such as Cristin Milioti and Sofia Coppola, effortlessly kept me immersed throughout.

Can the human spirit truly be broken? And if so, can the pieces ever be put together again? It depends on the viewer whether they think this drama can answer those questions, but it undoubtedly provides a great starting point for that discussion. Regardless, this window into fairly recent history reminds me how I most definitely dread living in a world where people are snapped into line and see their individuality replaced by the word of their leaders, commanding them into discipline and action as if by the beat of a drum. Or the swing of a metronome.

Please see this film if you have the chance, though do not expect a pick-me-up out of it.

Farewell for now!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Metronom (2022), September Film

Summary

Title: Metronom
Year: 2022
Country: Romania/France
Director: Alexandru Belc
Genre: Drama/History
Running time: 102 minutes
Conclusion: The vibrant spirit of youth meets the unrelenting hammer of oppression in a calm and touching tale about fading lights on a horizon that may or may not exist.
Grade: 8.6/10
Viewed on: CineMember

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

There must be millions of people on this earth who are haunted by their past in some way or another. It must be quite the experience to see the skeletons in your closet come alive, though. They do, in this tale of unresolved trauma, grief and the weight that one carries with it to the present day. And it being an adaptation of a Stephen King story, you probably know what to expect at the very least.

I popped this in right after my previously reviewed film because I couldn’t sleep, it sat unviewed on my to-watch list, and it was about to leave Prime Video come midnight. That was still almost a day away, but I figured, what the heck, that obscure image with the flames in the background has that broody nineties ambience that simply has to induce nostalgia, I can’t go wrong with this!

At least, that was my initial impression.

Oh yes, it did invoke a longing for something.

A ticket to the express train bound for the Land of Nod, most like.

As with the blood-soaked ballet I had just experienced, the basis wasn’t that bad. This horror drama spawned two sequels, whose reception consistently declined. If you ask me, though, the start isn’t much to write home about either. Imagine someone reading an epic story to you in the most monotonous voice: you’d be inclined to leave the room, right? The same thing happens here. The movie starts, we make an initial emotional investment, but right after the withdrawal deadline, we want our deposit back.

So why, oh why, doesn’t Sometimes They Come Back (1991) inspire my thumb to penetrate the air?

It All Began, When…

Life’s been hard on Jim Norman (Tim Matheson), who was fired from his teaching job in Chicago after an altercation with a student that’s shrouded in mystery. He’s been a house painter ever since, but finally has a chance to start over in Liberty, Missouri, where he grew up. He left his hometown with his parents after the tragic loss of his older brother, Wayne (Chris Demetral), who was murdered by a gang of greasers; these assailants perished on the scene themselves when an oncoming train obliterated them.

After settling in with his wife, Sally (Brooke Adams), and son, Scott (Robert Hy Gorman), he’s confronted by the rebellious jocks in his class, though some students have a more sympathetic stance towards him. These kids aren’t the worst of his problems, though. Jim suffers from nightmares and daytime visions of the traumatic events from his youth. The ‘55 Chevy that his brother’s killers drove around in pops back up. What’s more, it’s targeting his pupils! Three of them perish, and to firmly rub more salt in wounds old and fresh, these victims are replaced by transfer students, wearing the faces of those that have been haunting the tortured teacher for almost three decades now…

The Writing Was On The Wall

Something I noticed after pressing play was the speed at which the credits—white titles on a black background—moved, accompanied by music meant to set the mood. To sidetrack a bit, this could be construed as a good thing, because I hate to be reminded that I’m watching a story while it’s actually either picking up or winding down. Meaning that when the mention of cast, crew and production is superimposed over the screen, it pulls me out of the narrative.

That problem did not occur here, but it struck me as odd how much of a hurry the film seemed to be in. Then there was the lighting, pacing, editing, narration, and general mood that set off my silent alarm. Sometimes They Come Back is presented to us in a 2.35:1 aspect ratio (21:9), which means you’ll see black bars at the top and bottom of the image on a regular 16:9 screen. Despite that, everything throughout the feature screamed that this 1991 flick was made for television.

Tuning Out

Oh, well, after doing the slightest bit of digging, it turns out I was right! Well, kind of; according to IMDb trivia, it was to be released in theatres, but the production company went belly-up, so it went straight to the tube in its home country. The film was brought to some European cinemas, though. But all I’m trying to say is that everything about this presentation is too accessible and easily digestible to make a genuine impression. That’s this adaptation’s greatest flaw by far; it encompasses everything else. The way this tale is related to us is really on the nose, starting with Jim’s opening narration that spoils everything. At least, it indicates the main character will come out alive, that is.

I got hit by some waves of nineties nostalgia, but they were weak sauce. Especially visually, the film was remarkably dated and unengaging, though some of those roaring sound effects in the flashbacks proved surprisingly effective; they were so otherworldly that they brought something resembling chills down my spine at times! Wish I could reserve the same praise for the late composer Terry Plumeri’s score, which is obviously designed to tug at the heartstrings but fails to even grasp them. The scares and make-up effects also completely miss the mark. They feel calculated and goofy at the same time, as if this were a children’s version of a horror flick. It’s almost insulting!

Fire Up The Engine

Remember what I said about the pacing? It’s brutal, actually. You’ll be able to follow perfectly, no worries. But I get the feeling Tom McLoughlin wasn’t really directing from his lightweight folding chair and from behind his megaphone; it seemed more like he was holding a clipboard, checking boxes. I’m aware that films don’t usually get shot in chronological order, but there seems to be such a rush behind the events relayed to us that we’re hardly allowed to feel anything. Not even goosebumps!

For example, the first two characters that end up on the movie’s hit list each get an introduction and one solitary scene in which they sympathise with the main character. And that’s it, then they get done in. What’s more, Jim has a nightmare about the second one, which he relives the next day while supervising his class that’s taking a test. Only as he wakes up do we see that the student’s desk is empty, so we are only now made aware that this person was missing in the first place. At least to me, this severely reduced the intended impact I assume it was supposed to make.

Sometimes They Screw Up

What could have been great turns out to be a mediocre experience at best. The cast did their best with what they were given, but ultimately, the plot was poorly handled. It’s a blend between a horror tale on the one hand and a drama about the weight of grief on the other. Neither of these aspects receives the focus they deserve to really work. Okay, I did almost feel like tearing up at the ending, but looking back, these ninety-eight minutes it took me to get through Sometimes They Come Back could have been spent on something far, far greater.

I can’t say it’s not endearing at all, and I do like to put a proverbial arm over Jim’s shoulder every now and then. But then I also find myself completely tuned out by the complete lack of cinematic appeal. Just like in the case of Pretty Lethal (2026), making an impression on the audience seems to give the director and producers the absolute ick. Looking at Sometimes They Come Back that way, it seems that the streaming formula is way older than it seems. I have seen way better made-for-TV productions, though. But I really couldn’t recommend this one to anybody. Sorry. It taught me that seeing something is about to leave my to-watch list doesn’t automatically mean it’s worth the time or effort.

And that’s my final word on it.

See you soon, everyone!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Sometimes They Come Back (1991), Dino De Laurentiis Communications

Summary

Title: Sometimes They Come Back
Year: 1991
Country: United States
Director: Tom McLoughlin
Genre: Horror/Thriller/Drama
Running time: 98 minutes
Conclusion: Heartfelt, but crashes inevitably and violently like a Southern Pacific 5021—using a Norfolk and Western 1218’s steam whistle—into a 1955 Chevrolet One-Fifty, owing to a severe lack of tension and atmosphere caused by uninvolving pacing and uninspired execution.
Grade: 4.5/10
Viewed on: Prime Video

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

Now and then, a new production is released that’s centred around one or multiple women. And hey, I’m all for it! Decades ago, Ellen Ripley set standards. Nowadays, sympathetic lead actresses are cast in films focusing on female heroes, but they usually fall short in either the script or the premise, and sometimes even worse… both. One would think that, by now, we’d be able to balance things out a bit better. The title currently in my spotlights has a fun enough concept, but does it pan out?

Lots of rave reviews about this project have made the rounds, and unfortunately, I have to disagree with most of them. So be it; I’ve been called harsh and sour in my judgment before, but I have to be honest with myself and my audience. Besides, if we were all supposed to share the same preferences, we’d be living in nothing short of an Orwellian nightmare. Also, I consider myself a film critic; if the audience reaction was set, what would be left for me to analyse and discuss?

I’ll stop dancing around; it’s time for me to get to the pointe and dive right into the carnage of Pretty Lethal (2026).

Entrée en Scène

You might think you have it rough, but only those passionate enough make it to the status of prima ballerina. It takes years of dedication, pain, toil, suffering, and extreme confidence in your physical abilities to gain ‘the heart of a warrior’, if the voice-over is to be believed. After a young lifetime of honing their skills, five American girls, along with their British teacher, Thorna Davenport (Lydia Leonard), are invited to a prestigious contest in Budapest, Hungary.

Their trip is almost nipped in the bud due to tensions between the privileged and arrogant Princess (Lana Condor) and the working-class but talented Bones (Maddie Ziegler). The latter considers quitting because she views ballet as an upper-class game, but accompanies her troupe abroad anyway for no apparent reason other than the plot requiring it. Unfortunately, their bus breaks down, so they walk to conveniently find the nearest inn, run by Devora Kasimer (Uma Thurman).

To make matters worse, this place is heavily gangster infested, and these people make no bones—pun intended!—about getting what they want, forcing the girls to fight for sheer survival. ‘Ballet of Death’, anyone…?

À La Seconde

There’s a lot you can accuse Pretty Lethal of, but wasting time is not one of them—except the viewer’s, ultimately. You’ll find loads of exposition dumps throughout, starting in the opening scene when Miss Thorna reminds her pupils during dress rehearsal that they’re due to fly out the next day. It takes the ensemble all of four minutes into the film to land in Hungary, and less than a minute after that, their transport fails. No time for natural character development, we’re being rushed through the plot because the filmmakers don’t trust our attention span.

What’s more, they insult our intelligence and immersion by letting Hungarian characters speak their own language only briefly, to switch to English full-time because subtitles are frowned upon. Director Vicky Jewson and team twist that knife even deeper in one particular scene, where one gangster, in Hungarian, asks what another is doing, which is snogging with one of the girls. He tells the first one to relax and that they can ‘safely speak English’ because ‘the bitch is deaf’—she is, though that’s his nomenclature, not mine. My point being, why wouldn’t they be speaking Hungarian, seeing as that is their bloody language?!

Avant

Recently, in an interview, actor Matt Damon explained that streamers need to provide a regular plot recap so viewers can concentrate on their screens and their phones at the same time. In other words, paying attention is no longer necessary; all the thinking is done for us, by telegraphing every plot point, motivation and event well in advance. What’s that, one of the ballerinas is trapped inside? I’ll go rescue her, says another girl, instead of, oh, I don’t know, maintaining the suspense and keeping us guessing?

The only way out is together, yells Bones when the group is surrounded: We fight as a team! Gee, thanks, love, it would’ve taken a genius to figure that out if it weren’t for you. The experience does not improve when even poor old logic springs a trap door, for example, when the teacher’s passport shows her surname to be Thora and her first name Davenport; what…? And I’d like to add that the girls are way too okay with violence, despite their justified escape attempts.

Balancé

The idea itself isn’t bad, but the execution isn’t anything we haven’t seen before. A more obvious fairy-tale motif might have helped the concept gain some much-needed spark, just as spending more time with the characters would. Oh sure, we know their basic characteristics, but we’re hardly given reason to care about the young dancers. There is no risk involved in bringing the premise to life, so there’s no longevity for the film itself either.

Writer/actress Kate Freund knows about setup and pay-off, as certain elements are introduced and resolved throughout the story. The fight scenes show some pretty cool choreography, the main event in that regard, most of all. How come none of the attackers had the bright idea to bring a firearm into the mix sooner, though…? I could go on, but then I’d enter severe nit-picking territory, and you already know what I’m getting at.

Coda

I understand what’s to like, but it’s not enough for me. I would compare Pretty Lethal to that one candy I don’t like, but it’s forced on me anyway. From the very beginning, there’s a complete lack of emotional investment on my part based on what’s presented to me, so I have absolutely no concern about the outcome. Too bad, this severely undercooked meal could’ve been a true feast.

There’s genuine talent involved, and the cast seems to have fun, but the results are par for the course in this era of made-for-streaming movies. The location looks pretty nice, but it is too massively underutilised to have a genuine effect. That can also be said of the main antagonist’s personal problems and tragic background, which I couldn’t give a shit about. Now, I’m not saying you won’t have fun, but chances are you’ve completely forgotten everything about the film after a solid five minutes—or less.

Okay, I think I’ve made myself clear now.

See you in the next one!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Pretty Lethal (2026), Amazon MGM Studios

Summary

Title: Pretty Lethal
Year: 2026
Country: United States/United Kingdom
Director: Vicky Jewson
Genre: Action thriller
Running time: 91 minutes
Conclusion: Entertaining in places, but derivative and forgettable in every way. The only reason streaming productions such as these exist seems to be to occupy their audience rather than wow them. A film for everyone, and therefore for no one.
Grade: 4.0/10
Viewed on: Prime Video

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

If classic Hollywood is to be believed, heroes in white hats and villains with either black headwear or red skins decided how modern America turned out. Further down the line, this image shifted somewhat. Criminals and tyrants were still bad, but champions weren’t necessarily good people either. Where reality is concerned, that sounds alarming as High Hell. But for fiction, that’s often the foundation of an interesting story.

Many protagonists with a tough exterior do, over time, show a soft spot. Call it a weakness, a change of heart, perhaps both. Something to contrast who they were and who they became. Yes, I know that this is the basis of good storytelling, but not every author—novelist, screenwriter, producer and/or director—adheres to its principles. Our main character is both robust and the best at everything because we need him to be. His adversary does bad things because he’s evil. Dramatic reveals are shown because they work so well in other tales.

So yeah, pile all these elements together, give them to a handsome face to act out, and you should be solid, right?

Right?!

Wrong

I must apologise for the spoiler, but the title discussed here I consider a waste of your time. And because I’m such a great guy, I’ll explain to you why in great detail.

You simply can’t beat the best. The only one who can defeat the Master is the Master themselves—I’m looking at you and that pet project of yours, Mr Coppola! Or, of course, a new prodigy could enter the scene.

Suffice it to say, Ferdinando Baldi couldn’t even relieve himself in the corner of Sergio Leone’s shadow. And this he proves irrefutably with Texas, Adios (1966).

No Time To Waste

Probably because the opening song to Sergio Corbucci’s notable success Django (1966) became so iconic, the filmmakers made a similar attempt in this one, but frankly, their tune has already slipped my mind completely. It’s way harder to say the same about the predecessor, which made new rounds decades later thanks to the ultimate cinephile Quentin Tarantino.

Following a lengthy shootout between a self-proclaimed bounty killer and his target during the opening sequence, with lots of stills to pad up the runtime, no-nonsense advocate of justice Sheriff Burt Sullivan (Franco Nero) interrupts the violence by claiming the reward for himself. After dealing with the original vengeful pursuer, he tells his younger brother Jim (Albert Dell’Acqua, though credited as Cole Kitosch) that it’s finally time to go after the man who murdered their father when they were infants.

I bet you’re dying to know the answer to the question: Why now?

Did Burt perhaps receive a message containing his quarry’s whereabouts? Has he tracked down the killer himself?

No, the announcement was made, in the words of Screenwriter Guy from Pitch Meeting (2017-Present), so the movie can happen.

This simple logic should tell you what you’re in for.

Never Before Was The Clock This Interesting

That is, not much. If there’s a list of things Baldi could’ve benefited from by this point, a lesson in humility would be at the top of it. Painting by numbers does not make a great artist. In the aforementioned Django and Keoma (1976), Nero showcases his charisma and talent, but they fail to save Texas, Adios. Being cool, silent, and mysterious as an end rather than a means has no value.

There’s also this contradictory and shallow villain (José Suárez) thrown in there somewhere, who shocks us in a way we haven’t witnessed in cinema before or since—honest! And then the step-by-step playbook is followed, showing a reluctant hero who is merely interested in his own fight and cares for nothing else but his younger brother. Only boring as shit, really.

Technically Speaking

Baldi and his D.P. conjure up some decent to even impressive images in this flick, but Eastmancolor’s limitations still showed. These mainly took the shape of some interesting defects when transparent blotches dominated the film footage. Probably an error in development of some sort. Sets and locations were okay; the film even regained some of my attention when the exteriors of a remarkably beautiful, dilapidated mansion were shown.

And if the story wasn’t enough to detach me, there was the ADR. Voices that didn’t fit the characters, dialogue that didn’t match the lips and a mix that was positively painful to sit through. Just a few minutes ago, my ears finally stopped bleeding. No, kidding of course, but now I definitely understand why this movie and all of Nero’s other films were promoted as Django sequels; Texas, Adios has no merits to speak of, save for its lead!

Movie, Adios

If I like a title, I’ll see it more than once; if I love it, there’s no question I will. But I hope I’ll never have to encounter Texas, Adios again, as long as I live. It’s as if Baldi was scared to disappoint American audiences, so he drummed up a story that resembled classic Hollywood instead of the revisionist Western that had become the norm back then. Wrong place, wrong time, ‘Nando!

I love pictures from this genre in all shapes and sizes, as long as they’re interesting and not immediately forgettable. My excitement to see this one, which came out in the same year as one of my absolute favourites, turned sour in record time. Did you enjoy this adventure? Then I’m happy for you, truly. But if I’ve gained your trust by this point, please take it from me; there are way better Spaghetti Westerns out there.

That’ll be all for now.

Take care!

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for Texas, Adios (1966), Euro International Film / Arrow Video

Summary

Title: Texas, Adios
Year: 1966
Country: Italy/Spain
Director: Ferdinando Baldi
Genre: Western
Running time: 92 minutes
Conclusion: No one told the director that the elements that make this genre so popular should be rooted in an interesting plot. As a result, this movie just sucks.
Grade: 3.4/10—and that’s me being generous, by the way!
Viewed on: Arrow Player

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema

Some pages in the Book of Human History should never be forgotten, skimmed over or trivialised. And many a noble creative or chronicler makes sure that sufficient attention to the topic is generated to keep it in front of our minds. However, not every way to do so is the correct one. Even with the best of intentions, a harrowing tale about the Holocaust can be related to us with a misguided focus.

And it’s not an easy thing to do, I’m well aware. The trick is in knowing when a plot should leave your audience either satisfied or wanting more. Another factor is providing the right amount of information to ignite a discussion on the presented subject: while leaving plenty to talk about, it should not gloss over the facts that, at least in my opinion, are at the heart of the matter.

This is exactly why Peter Bebjak’s handling of The Auschwitz Report (2021) leaves me so immensely frustrated.

SPOILERS AHEAD: READ ON AT YOUR OWN RISK

Factory of Death

Throughout the world, the name Auschwitz is synonymous with the mass destruction of Jews and others deemed ‘undesirable’ by Hitler’s regime in the concentration camp of the same name during the first half of the 1940’s. It’s also where the story begins, when two Slovak inmates—played by Noel Czuczor and Peter Ondrejička, whose parts are based on real-life Rudolf Vrba and Alfréd Israel Wetzler—hatch a plan to escape the grounds. Armed with evidence of the atrocities they and their fellow prisoners are subjected to on a daily basis, they make for the Slovakian border.

The sadism of the German security detail is shown to us without holding back, especially after two convicts are discovered to be missing. The consequences of the duo’s actions are brutal, with both physical and psychological torture coming down ferociously upon the prisoners, as the escapees wait until the guards call off their pursuit of them. Their final departure from the fences surrounding their Hell is bittersweet, but a long road to freedom awaits the two, as they can rely only on each other…

What Dante Did Not See

I’m not at odds with what the film shows us: we should never close our eyes for the immense suffering endured by the Holocaust’s countless victims. The Auschwitz Report, especially via the keen eye of visual helmsman Martin Žiaran and the cutting prowess of Marek Kráľovský, pulls no punches when it comes to Nazi horrors on display in the daily camp life and the callousness of the SS. Toning down the colours is especially effective in drowning the viewers in a sense of hopelessness, something the two lead characters and their fellow victims must have felt.

So being enveloped by the story is not the problem, also helped by the fact that the original languages are spoken throughout. I was aware of the title long before I decided to watch it and eventually took a peek when I noticed the IMDb rating: 6.6/10. Proper marks, but far from outstanding, and I set out to discover why. Initially, I assumed it was due to aesthetic reasons; that the production was amateur-level. That, as I stated before, would be unfounded, given the excellent visual quality. My point of contention, then, is its mere 94-minute runtime.

Beyond The Red Cross

That’s the average length for any feature, but it doesn’t tell the full story. Yes, crimes against humanity were committed on a massive scale; yes, two victims got out in order to alert the Allies, and yes, they combined their efforts into a report about the truth concerning the systematic murder of millions of people. But what does this tale tell about what happened after they were done compiling and presenting their experiences into a report for Warren (John Hannah), a representative of the Red Cross, who had, until then, been ignorant of the facts? A few titles explaining how the document was received. And that’s it.

If I tell someone a joke and leave out the punchline, I’ve just wasted their time—perhaps even spoiled their mood. If I play someone The Godfather (1972) who hasn’t seen it yet, and then leave out the last thirty or so minutes, after which I simply tell them how Michael will handle the threat against his family, they’re going to be pissed—justifiably so. So why, I wonder, was the decision made to turn the tried-and-tested narrative technique of show, don’t tell, 180 degrees? I wish I could tell you, because I firmly believe that the Allies’ reaction to the report from the title, both during and after the War, should be the meat and bone of the film.

The Report

The scenes we end up with are definitely impressive. But they feel like the prelude to the actual story, which is merely handed to us via a bunch of typed-up words. Seeing as the arrested Jews and other targets of the Nazis had no clue what was in store for them, Vrba has often repeated for the rest of his life that the extermination plans would have slowed down significantly due to revolt on the part of the arrestees if his and Wetzler’s report had been distributed sooner and on a larger scale. If you ask me, that’s a story!

So yes, I understand the public's average rate. My needs as a viewer were definitely not met by leaving out the most important part of the plot. Sure, the complete contrast between Warren’s misgivings and the actual circumstances in Auschwitz leaves a mark, as it tells us how little was known of the victims’ fates, even so late in the War. But then the ending stings me in exactly the wrong way. Bomb the place to Hell, yells Vrba; that didn’t happen, some title cards explain to us immediately after. Excuse me…?

The Auschwitz Report is a beautiful monument to the courage of Vrba and Wetzler. But I feel the world should have learned from the film in a wholly different way.

Perhaps this could be a lesson in storytelling?

All the best,

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

Subscribe now

Trailer for The Auschwitz Report (2021), Dutch FilmWorks

Summary

Title: The Auschwitz Report
Year: 2021
Country: Slovakia/Czech Republic/Poland/Germany
Director: Peter Bebjak
Genre: Historical drama/War
Running time: 93 minutes
Conclusion: I’m impressed by what’s presented to us, but feel the focus should be on the impact of the report in the title and therefore consider this film a wasted opportunity.
Grade: 6.6/10
Viewed on: Amazon Prime Video

Share Dynko's Illustrious Society of Cinema