The Ugly Stepsister Original title: Den stygge stesøsteren 2025

 Очередное кино, в котором не только нормальных нет, но и вообще с однозначными персонажами проблема, так что они не укладываются в типичные роли. И Золушка высокомерная и похотливая, и мать всего лишь пытающаяся как-то удержать свою жизнь на плаву несчастная женщина, и падчерица (свежеумершего и довольно быстро разлагающегося благородного господина) мечтает о прекрасном, и готова не только работать, но и на разные жертвы. А то, что все токсичные такие - ну, такие правила, такая среда - одному против общества сложно выстоять, на этот подвиг только младшая сестра оказалась способна.

6/10

18.02

"eine Body-Horror-Komödie"

Rotting flesh and worms replace pumpkin carriage and fairy godmother: a Cinderella Story turned Inside Out

From the earliest retellings of the Cinderella myth-beginning with Charles Perrault's Cendrillon and the Brothers Grimm's Aschenputtel, and later immortalized by Disney's 1950 animated classic this timeless tale has undergone countless adaptations on both the page and the screen. More recent live-action versions, such as Ever After (1998) and Kenneth Branagh's Cinderella (2015), have further cemented the story's place in popular culture. In parallel with these traditional approaches, a new trend has emerged: alternative reinterpretations of classical works. Notable among these is Percival Everett's James, a daring reimagining of Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which challenges our expectations and invites fresh perspectives on well-worn narratives. The Ugly Stepsister follows this innovative path, reimagining the Cinderella story from a grotesque and an entirely subversive angle. In this twisted retelling, that recalls the visceral atmosphere of films like Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, rather than presenting a pristine, innocent Cinderella, director Emilie Blichfeldt introduces us to Elvira (Lea Myren), the so called "ugly" stepsister who despite the title is neither conventionally beautiful nor utterly hideous. This ambiguity makes the excruciating process of her transformation, aimed at impressing the ever elusive Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth), feel both ambiguous and absurd. We learn early on that financial desperation haunts her family: her stepfather's colossal debts, covered only temporarily by her mother's illfated financial gambles, have left the family on the brink of ruin, crippled and hungry for change. This bleak economic reality fuels the ruthless ambitions of her mercantile stepmother Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp), whose single-minded drive is to turn Elvira into a paragon of beauty and a ticket to social ascendance.

From the very beginning, the film sets a tone of moral ambiguity. Unlike traditional Cinderella adaptations-where the fairy godmother and the magical pumpkin carriage provide effortless routes to transformation-The Ugly Stepsister opts for a far more disturbing and visceral approach. The film is replete with scenes that verge on full-blown body horror: grotesque surgical procedures and physiologically unsettling imagery underscore the brutal lengths to which Elvira must go in her quest in a fairy-tale kingdom where beauty is a brutal, cutthroat business, to impress Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth), being led by desperate desire for approval and success, presented in whitewashed dreams, so fake and unnatural, as the electronic accompaniment to them. Her transformation is not an innate gift but an arduous, painful process that calls into question the very nature of beauty and success. We see her diligently practicing her dancing and perfecting her embroidery, suggesting that her newfound allure is hard-won and paid for with her own pain, suffering and deteriorating health. This contrast not only deepens her character but also casts the traditional Cinderella figure in a more problematic light, who is not the dutiful, spotless heroine we've come to expect-she harbors resentment toward her stepmother, haughty, arrogant and contemptuous with Elvira. Her beauty is a mere privilege she was born in, as is her nobility. The film even introduces a slightly provocative side story involving a stable boy, which further muddies the moral waters and challenges our preconceived notions of the Cinderella myth. The final touch to her viciousness is being added by the sole macabric remnant of original story ball dressing magic. Well, it's probably natural for the fairies to have early development stages.

The younger stepsister Alma, portrayed by Flo Fagerli, is a breath of fresh air in this twisted tale. Adorable and unpretentious, she stands out as the only truly grounded character amid the film's chaotic transformations. With genuine empathy for her older sister and a healthy dose of rational skepticism, she offers a much-needed counterbalance to the story's surreal excesses.

The film's visual style is striking, with Marcel Zyskind's cinematography capturing the surreal, almost carnivalesque staging of these transformation sequences. The soundtrack, however, is a notable letdown. While it (intentionally or not) attempts to echo the pioneering spirit of electronic remakes of classical music-a realm in which Wendy Carlos famously set the benchmark decades ago-the repeated theme quickly becomes stale. Instead of adding depth or evolving with the narrative, the overuse of this motif undermines the film's atmosphere, leaving a sense of musical monotony that detracts from the overall experience.

Overall, The Ugly Stepsister is an audacious, if imperfect, cinematic experience. Its intriguing premise and subversive take on a wellworn fairy tale are commendable, even as its execution occasionally falters between highconcept ambition and uneven production quality. Despite these shortcomings the film manages to spark thought and discussion, leaving viewers to wonder whether its flaws stem from a conceptual deficit or simply from the challenging task of realizing such lofty aspirations on screen. Final point down, those who are fainthearted could safely limit themselves to reading the script.

Hot Milk 2025

- Чё на платье написано? 

- beloved 

- не beloved, а beheaded 

Эмоциональная драма о том, как тяжёлое прошлое одной женщины (на самом деле, даже не её собственное) инвалидизировало её саму, и пытается сделать то же самое с её дочерью, которая, как будто нарочно, обнаруживает в себе целую бездну с трудом сдерживаемых чувств, так и получается, что этот полыхающий костёр с разных сторон поливают водой, всё это шипит, дымит, но не утихает. Весь фильм она пытается вырваться и добраться хоть до какой-то чувственной близости, хоть до каких-то переживаний. Не обязательно с другим, хотя секс с случайным дядей тоже вошёл в программу, можно просто рыбу украсть и вымазать ей весь дом. Можно перестать сдерживать себя и бросить мать родную под грузовик. Дальше сами.

7/10

17.02

Hot Milk: A Nuanced Exploration of Emotional Suppression and Connection

Rebecca Lenkiewicz's directorial debut, Hot Milk (2025), based on Deborah Levy's novel, is a compelling and often darkly humorous exploration of the challenges of emotional expression and the search for genuine connection. Set against the scorching heat of a Spanish (though filmed in Greece) summer, the film follows Rose (Fiona Shaw) and her daughter Sofia (Emma Mackey) as they seek treatment for Rose's psychosomatic illness. But the sun-drenched town of Almería becomes a catalyst for Sofia, trapped by her mother's condition, as she navigates complex relationships and confronts her own desires.

Hot Milk delves into the intricacies of emotional suppression, particularly in Sofia's case. While deeply emotional, Sofia struggles to express and fully experience her feelings. This is sharply contrasted by her new acquaintance, a young German woman whose outward emotional expression initially seems liberating. However, as their connection develops (or rather, fails to develop into a genuine relationship), the German woman's emotional landscape reveals a superficiality, a quickness to move from one partner to the next without establishing real emotional depth. She embodies a series of clichés about Germany and Berlin, further highlighting the shallowness of her character. This juxtaposition underscores Sofia's yearning for something more profound.

One of the key elements of Sofia's rebellion against her mother, Rose, unfolds after a dinner with the enigmatic healer, Gómez. Rose, a hypochondriac prone to anxiety, claims an allergy to fish. Sofia impulsively uses this cue in a following subtle act of defiance and rebellion, stealing fish from the market and making a smelly surprise for Rose. This rationally unnecessary risky theft aligns with her other chaotic outbreaks, like random sexual encounter, driven by a deep need to break free from her constraints. Probably the most emotionally charged scenes happens when Sofia experiences a small but significant breakdown triggered by the incessant barking of a neighbor's dog, which ends up in a knife attack on the dog owner, revealing the simmering rage beneath her controlled exterior.

Shaw and Mackey deliver powerful and nuanced performances, capturing the complex emotions of their characters with raw intensity. Their interactions are electric, the tension between them almost palpable. You feel their pain, their frustration, and their fleeting moments of connection. The pacing of Hot Milk is perfectly calibrated, allowing the emotional undercurrents to build and then erupt in bursts of intensity. The film's setting, though nominally Spain, is visually transformed into a parched, sun-baked Greece, further emphasizing Sofia's isolation and the simmering tensions within her.

Hot Milk definitely deserves recognition as a compelling and insightful exploration of the complexities of human connection, the struggle for self-expression, and the messy, often painful process of breaking free from paralyzing toxic attachments and past stories.

Its open end invites the viewers to stop following the script and make their own decision.

Подлётное время, 2025

 Виталий Всеволодович в своём духе - какие-то люди, в этот раз не очень известные, что-то делают, в этот раз в основном хоронят друг друга, и вроде бы ничего особенного, ну пара драматичных моментов, ну может чуть больше пары, но всё это как-то не складывается... А потом обнаруживаешь, что уже несколько дней продолжаешь пытаться сложить всё вместе.

Улицы, на которых все стоят на коленях, пока едет автобус похоронной процессии, конечно, впечатляет. Сами похороны... Ну похорон мы не видели, что ли? Но они всё идут и идут, а потом награды посмертные, и они тоже одна за одной, и всё никак не закончатся, и мы уже спасибо всё поняли, а они всё хоронят и хоронят, и всё это никак не закончится. Я, слепой, поначалу принял чёрный на флаге за зелёный и долго недоумевал.

От автора:

Первый кадр фильма: камера едет по улице, мы видим небо, верхушки домов. Это небо глазами погибшего парня, которого везут на кладбище. Чтобы снять этот кадр, мы выбрали одну львовскую улицу, не самую центральную, не туристическую. Когда фильм был уже снят, на эту улицу прилетела ракета и уничтожила семью: молодую женщину и ее трех дочерей. И уже потом я узнал, что эта женщина, мама - дочь моего львовского приятеля юности, прекрасного фотографа Миши Французова, который после этого прожил еще четыре месяца. Это осталось за кадром, но это осталось во мне, это то, что невозможно никакими клещами вырвать. Я с этим буду до конца своих дней.

Последний кадр - это барабан, который стоит у кладбища и ждет, пока его возьмет молодой музыкант, один из героев фильма, окончивший в Австрии консерваторию. Но этот барабан он больше не возьмет, потому что в январе музыканты этого оркестра переведены в пехоту и отправлены на фронт.

Time to Target: The Wearying Carousel of Death in Wartime Lviv

Vitaly Mansky's Time to Target, filmed in 2023-2024, offers a surface-level view of life in Lviv, Ukraine, during the war, adding little to our understanding of the complexities of the situation. While the film documents the presence of death and its impact on everyday life, it does so in a way that feels ultimately unrevealing, catering perhaps to the completely uninformed, the visually unimaginative, or those with a penchant for voyeurism.

The film's focus on military funerals, while undeniably somber, quickly becomes repetitive to the point of emotional exhaustion. One funeral is a personal tragedy; two or three evoke a sense of scalable loss. But by the fifth or sixth, a qualitative shift occurs in the viewer's perception. Faces blur, individual stories are lost, and the sheer volume of grief becomes overwhelming. The film's relentless depiction of these processions transforms them into a wearisome carousel of death, leaving the viewer not with deeper understanding, but with a sense of emotional fatigue and a desperate plea for the cycle to end. Mansky's camera, positioned within the funeral bus, captures bystanders' reactions, but these scenes, repeated ad nauseam, offer little beyond the basic understanding that war brings grief, a fact already painfully clear.

The same numbing effect applies to the scenes of posthumous awards ceremonies. Name after name is read, the list seemingly endless, creating a sense of dread and despair. The viewer becomes overwhelmed by the sheer scale of loss, the constant repetition amplifying the tragedy to an almost unbearable degree. The emotional impact shifts from sadness and fear to a kind of weary resignation, a desperate desire for respite from the unending stream of grief.

Interspersed with these funeral processions and award ceremonies are glimpses of everyday life – tour guides, selfies, veterans, funeral advertisements – which create a superficial contrast between normalcy and the underlying reality of war. The visuals, primarily focused on Lviv's historical center with its Austrian architecture, and the exaggerated pronouncements by cemetery workers about the city's past governance, feel like stock footage rather than insightful observations. The tour guide's anecdote about the church balcony designed for Jesus' second coming, while quirky, adds little of substance.

Moments of dark humor, like the Putin effigy and the street-side shooting range, feel fleeting and underdeveloped. The air raid siren interrupting the opera, while dramatic, is a predictable trope. The film's inclusion of cemetery workers discussing their wages and the challenges of expanding the graveyard, while grounded in reality, offers no unique perspective.

Time to Target fails to delve beneath the surface. It offers no real exploration of the complexities of the war's impact on Lviv's residents, their fears, their hopes, or their struggles. The presence of OUN-UPA flags at some graves hints at deeper historical and political currents, but the film remains frustratingly silent on these issues.

In short, Time to Target presents a series of images and vignettes that, while undoubtedly related to the war, ultimately feel shallow and emotionally manipulative. It's a film that may serve as a rudimentary introduction to the realities of wartime for those completely unfamiliar with the subject, but for anyone seeking a deeper understanding of the human cost of conflict in Ukraine, it offers little of value beyond the weariness induced by its repetitive depictions of grief.

6/10

17.02

Islands 2025

Довольно милая, хорошо сделанная и совершенно непретенциозная драма, повествующая о простых, казалось бы, событиях - небольших приключениях тренера по теннису и молодой семейной пары на отдыхе, но затрагивающая столько тем, что сказать, о чём она, довольно трудно.

Он бухает по-чёрному, долбит кокос и тёлок, пытается не проспать на свои уроки тенниса для туристов, короче, ведёт обычную бессмысленную человеческую жизнь, пытаясь подальше сбежать от себя и своих мыслей. 

А потом появляется завораживающая его с первого взгляда молодая женщина, и он сразу готов сделать для неё вообще что угодно, бросив свою регулярную жизнь. У женщины сын, муж, всё неплохо, кроме печалей того мужа о том, что у них не получается второй ребёнок, и он уже начинает сомневаться по поводу своей причастности к судьбе первого. У него какие-то элементы дежавю по поводу женщины, у местного охранника клуба ещё более уверенные. Дальше по ходу истории делается, для тех, кому было мало, ещё пара намёков о том, что семь (или сколько там?) лет назад она могла быть тут же, на острове, и что у него в тот момент тоже что-то происходило. По сюжету муж этой женщины по пьяни уплывает на соседний остров и теряется там где-то посреди вулканов. Они его как бы ищут, но не отказывают себе в возможности некоторой близости, потом менты решают вывести её на чистую воду, ловят на вранье, она юлит и дальше. А там муж случайно находится. Ощущение того, что она всё сама подстроила только крепнет. Семья уезжает, не оглядываясь, а теннисист задумывается, чем он вообще занимается, и как проводит жизнь, и бежит в аэропорт, улететь куда-то, куда он ещё даже не задумывался.

Красиво снято, хорошо играют. Женщина сама очень обворожительная. Менты и верблюд очень харизматичные.

 Islands 2025: A Delicately Crafted Exploration of Personal Crisis

Jan-Ole Gerster's Islands 2025, a German film screened at Berlinale, isn't aiming for grand cinematic statements, and that's precisely its strength. This psychological drama, co-written by Gerster, Lawrie Doran, and Blaz Kutin, gracefully explores a personality crisis against the backdrop of a Spanish seaside resort, weaving in a criminal subplot and questions of infidelity with impressive subtlety.

The acting in Islands 2025 isn't flashy, but it's remarkably effective. Each performance feels natural and nuanced, adding layers of depth to the narrative. Stacy Martin is particularly captivating, exuding an almost aristocratic air. Her on-screen chemistry with Sam Riley is palpable from their very first scene together, creating a compelling dynamic.

One of the film's most intriguing aspects is its use of unspoken narratives. The past is hinted at, a forgotten event that resurfaces to influence the present, but the details are never explicitly revealed. Gerster masterfully avoids cliché devices like flashbacks or exposition, instead leaving it to the viewer to piece together the fragments and interpret the characters' motivations. This delicate approach is both engaging and thought-provoking.

Minor characters, like the local and federal police officers, and especially a camel, leave a memorable impression, adding to the film's rich tapestry. The visuals and sound design effectively immerse the audience in the setting, enhancing the overall atmosphere.

Islands 2025 doesn't pretend to be a masterpiece, but within its chosen scope, it achieves near perfection. Beneath the surface story lies a subtle exploration of exploitation - how we are exploited by others, how we exploit ourselves, and the choices we make in response. This subtext, while understated, adds a layer of depth that lingers after the credits roll. It's a film that stays with you, inviting reflection and interpretation.

7/10

17.02

Mickey 17, 2025

Довольно утомительно, местами глупо, шаблонно и нарочито злободневно - превращение бизнесмена в гитлерообразного диктатора в типично придурковатом исполнении Марка Руффало - это, конечно, не уровень высокого кино, а дурновкусной прессы или бесталанного стэндап шоу, помимо того, что исполнение закона Годвина. Не то, что ответов на вопросы не даётся, и даже обсуждения никакого нет, но и сами вопросы сформулированы максимально размыто, мол, ну, вы сами всё понимаете, такие горячие темы в Твиттере (к тому же сам я не читал...). Логики в отдельных деталях никакой - единственное осмысленное - использование человека как лабораторное животное для выработки антител и создания вакцины. Физиологичные детали выглядят довольно отвратительно, но как-то по-игрушечному.

Актёрской игры, кроме самого Паттинсона, нет и в помине. Девушки есть, но очень статичные. Чокнутая тётка с соусами раздражает только своим появлением и зацикленностью на одной строчке сценария - жизни за ней тоже никакой нет.

Спецэффекты иногда качественные, это правда.

 Mickey 17: A Superficial Exploration of Big Ideas

Bong Joon-ho's Mickey 17, screened at Berlinale's Urania cinema, arrives with considerable anticipation, especially given the director's previous success with films like Parasite. However, this sci-fi offering, based on Edward Ashton's novel Mickey7, ultimately falls short, bogged down by superficial explorations of complex themes and a frustrating lack of cinematic storytelling.

The film's initial setup, depicting a near-future reality of dehumanization and casual cruelty, feels intentionally off-putting. While this world-building aims for a visceral impact, it quickly becomes tiresome. The narrative then shifts into a series of lengthy speeches, where the film's supposed ideas about colonization, human identity, governance, and corruption are laid bare in a manner akin to amateur middle-school debates. This reliance on dialogue rather than visual storytelling significantly weakens the film's impact.

Robert Pattinson, a talented actor, is unfortunately underutilized. While his performance is solid, it lacks the space to truly shine. Mark Ruffalo, on the other hand, comes across as pretentious and artificial, his presence more annoying than engaging. The female characters are relegated to mere mannequins, their potential completely wasted.

The central conflict between human personality and technological advancement concludes with a simplistic, Luddite-esque resolution, offering no genuine exploration or insight. Similarly, the secondary theme of colonization is reduced to a simplistic good-versus-evil narrative, flattening the complexities of the issue.

Mickey 17 ultimately suffers from a pervasive superficiality. It raises intriguing questions but fails to provide meaningful answers or even stimulate productive discussion. While fans of Korean cinema and Robert Pattinson may feel compelled to see it, others can safely skip this one.

4/10

17.02

Shoah, 1985

 Второй раз смотрел, в этот раз в кинотеатре.

Есть, конечно, это подминающее действие авторского ритма, которое дома устраняется нажатием на паузу, а здесь просто не даёт возможности остановиться и хоть немного перевести дух, когда становится совсем тяжело. Помимо трагедии, присутствуют элементы абсурда и даже какого-то сюрреализма, и чёрного юмора, когда и смешно, и страшно. 

Ощущение, как и в первый раз, что по тебе все девять с половиной часов бульдозером ездили. 

9/10

16.02

Poor things, 2023

 Приключения девушки с отягощённой мужским насилием наследственностью изображают познание мира от первого лица, начиная с телесных удовольствий и заканчивая воздаянием возмездия. Большая часть конфликтов, хоть и заявлена существенно, рассматривается очень поверхностно, не в пример эротическим техникам.

Снято нарочито гротескно, как будто Жан Пьер Жене покусал Мишеля Гондри с благословения Тима Бёртона, только вызывает это почему-то не сентиментальные чувства и восхищение, а недоумение и неловкость, как будто тебя пытаются пластмассовой колбасой накормить на полном серьёзе. В отзывах сплошь восторги от гениальной игры Эммы Стоун, но это исключительно в силу черноты сегодняшнего дня кинематографа, когда не быть бревном уже считается гениальностью.

4/10

31.10

A Grotesque, Awkward Mess

The film attempts to tell the adventures of a girl burdened by a legacy of male violence—a first-person exploration of the world that should take us from raw bodily pleasures to the ultimate retribution against exploiters, abusers, and neocolonial oppressors. In theory, this premise promises a provocative journey of self-discovery and revenge. In practice, however, the conflicts it raises, though supposedly significant, are treated with frustrating superficiality—barely scratching the surface compared to the depth of erotic techniques exploration.

The movie is shot in a deliberately grotesque style, as if Jean-Pierre Jeunet had taken a bite out of Michel Gondry, all with Tim Burton’s blessing. Instead of evoking any sentimental admiration or stirring emotions, it leaves the viewer bewildered and awkward—like being force-fed a plastic sausage without any hint of humor or irony.

And yet, amid the chaos, reviews seem to be full of praise for Emma Stone's so-called "brilliant" performance. One might wonder if this is genuine admiration or simply a symptom of today’s bleak cinematic landscape, where not being as wooden as a log is suddenly hailed as genius.

In the end, what we’re left with is a film that promised much but delivered very little—a hollow, awkward exercise that undermines its own ambitious premise.

Das Licht 2025

 It was interesting to see Tykwer's staged magical symbolism, that mixes realities of the living, the dead and the imaginary. It's more about detachment, about loss of contacts, as I see it. Everybody's living in their own room and communicate rarely, and when do, no without understanding. Parents are total hypocrites, father as a balding semiretired hippie (he's too young for a traditional understanding of hippie itself, his youth should've been in 90s, when Berlin was the hippest place on Earth) is in greenwashing business. Mother spends government's millions on building theaters in Africa, kids are busy techno-drug-club partying or vr gaming. Their polish housemaid dies on duty, lies unnoticed under the table for god knows how long, and they even don't know her surname. Then they find a new housemaid, Syrian (symbolically, heh? (Sarcasm) Polish is being replaced by Syrian). The second part of the film dedicated to the attempts to put things back into their places, formally, symbolically and metaphysically. Family is on the quest to find themselves. Syrian housemaid - that's another story, we may argue about it's interpretation without spoiling details. Tykwer made postmortem encounters and dialogues in Lola rennt, so he's not a stranger to ideas of tripping to the other side. And also in Lola he was trying to make things the right way, as they should, to fix the past, to repeat it through, until you reach the desirable. I believe, we see the same "putting things on their places" stuff here, like sorting out problems. It's wonderfully shot, switches to choreography are brilliant and properly dilute otherwise a bit too stiff narrative. It's not a spoiler to say, that the boy named Dio is someone to put in god-like manner the final stone in place. How was it? A hand of god? Still, I believe, that stylistically Lola was two levels superior, but probably that's not Tykwer's fault, its just the times we're living at. And chronometer - almost three hours... Film doesn't get better when it gets longer, sorry, Tom.

6/10

Tom Tykwer’s latest film, Das Licht, is a visually arresting and symbolically charged meditation on modern disconnection and the elusive (Tykwer's special) quest to “put things back in their places.” From the opening moments, the film’s persistent rain sets a somber tone, serving as an external expression of the characters’ inner turmoil—a constant reminder of the fluid boundaries between the living, the dead, and the imaginary.

At its core, Das Licht is a portrait of a fractured modern family. The father, a balding, semiretired hippie whose youthful heyday should have been in the vibrant 90s Berlin, now finds himself entrenched in the political white/greenwashing business. His exposed bald spot is not merely a physical trait; it symbolizes the void where once vibrant, left-wing ideals once resided — leaving behind only cynicism and dirty old habits. The mother, on the other hand, channels state funds into totally corrupted neocolonial business of building theaters in Africa. Meanwhile, the children are lost in a world of techno-drug-club parties or VR gaming, communicating rarely and without any real connection or understanding. In a particularly jarring intro subplot, the family’s Polish housemaid dies on duty — her identity lost in the total indifference from employing family — only to be replaced by a Syrian woman. (I wonder, whether her death or death of the delivery guy reflect any of Tykwer's personal attitude towards them?) While this transition was probably meant to comment on shifting immigration demographics, it ends up feeling like a superficial, even clichéd, nod to trends that have long since passed their prime.

The film’s second act shifts gears into a broader, more introspective quest for order and self-discovery. Here, the attempt to “fix reality” becomes a metaphor for the family’s search for identity—an effort that is as much about reconciling with the past as it is about constructing an ideal yet-to-be-known world. One of the film’s most ideologically explicit moments comes when a daughter confronts her parents with a scathing litany of their personal sins—a raw, unabashed moment of revisionism that is quintessentially German in its exploration of history and mistrust to previous generations.

Technically, Das Licht shines in many respects. The cinematography is a step forward from Tykwer’s celebrated Lola rennt, capturing claustrophobic spaces and shifting perspectives with a meticulous, almost hyperreal precision. The film’s choreography, whether in the dynamic interplay of staged sequences reminiscent of a carnival, ballet, or opera, or in the visceral, shaking imagery, serves to constantly remind us that we are witnessing an enactment on a grand, metaphorical stage rather than a slice of everyday reality.

Yet, the film is not without its flaws. Clocking in at nearly three hours, its runtime is at times burdensome; there are moments when the pacing lulls, and one might even find their attention drifting.

A particular note of levity is provided by the character Dio—a precocious boy who, with his persistent renditions of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” assumes an announcement of his almost divine role that is to be revealed at the very end.

Ultimately, while Das Licht is packed with intriguing ideas and technical brilliance, it falls short of surpassing Tykwer’s masterpiece, Lola rennt, the comparison to which he's sentences for life. The bar was set incredibly high with his own personal status, the rarity of his movies and the media hype around this premier, and although this film is an ambitious exploration of modern detachment, crisis of family, society and personality and the struggle to regain a sense of order, it never quite achieves the metaphysical narrative and emotional  resonance that defined his earlier work. Tykwer’s vision is expansive and thought-provoking, but here it remains a fascinating, if imperfect, experiment in capturing the fragmented nature of contemporary existence.

Лебядзіная песня Фёдара Возерава 2025

Любительское немного, большей частью общая картина довольно унылая, и выезжает только на шутках (иногда сомнительных), но финал очень поэтичный.

5/10

14.02.25

In this offbeat directorial debut by Yuri Semashko, we follow a young Belarusian musician on an unexpectedly surreal journey sparked by the disappearance of his magical creative sweater "з рамонкамi" (with daysies). The film spends more than half its runtime on the frantic—and at times humorously absurd—search for this lost garment. The premise is deceptively simple: our protagonist, whose previous work was marked by a haunting album titled "Minsk Syndrome," (get it, Stockholm?) discovers that his sweater, once believed to imbue him with creative prowess, is missing. Along the way, he matches a girl and abuses her, almost got himself killed by the sweater thief, encounters the former owner of the sweater, who reveals that the garment’s only purpose was to help him shed his fear. With that weight lifted, the young man embarks on a quest to compose music for a new album.

Tragedy soon intrudes on his quest when he learns that his younger sister was killed by police during the violent suppression of an antiwar demonstration. Driven by grief and a desperate need for redemption, he descends into Hades in a bid to reclaim her. In the underworld, he meets Hades himself and, despite being told that the resurrection deal is off the table, he sings anyway. His impassioned performance resonates so powerfully that he's miraculously allowed to bring his sister back to the realm of the living. In a final sequence, as they begin their ascent, our protagonist pauses halfway — suggesting that the denizens of Hades might be waiting for his next song, parts with his sister, she goes up, he goes down, to the hellish stage — and then, with a single guitar chord, the lights go out, the titles roll in, leaving us with a lingering sense of bittersweet artistic sacrifice.

From a technical standpoint, the film is unmistakably low-budget and amateurish. The performances are largely flat and emotionless, which lends an air of detachment to an otherwise poignant narrative. The camerawork is competently executed, offering some visually creative moments that provide brief levity, yet the overall tone remains dour. The sparse musical score — rooted in the characteristic Belarusian lo‑fi, post‑punk wave chanson style — feels underdeveloped and fails to fully capture the apocalyptic vibe that the film’s poetic ambitions demand. I personally felt cheated with a directorial attempt to made the location look abstract, when it was evidently polish, and was a source of confusion, when ОМОН appeared.

Screened at Berlinale (Delphi Lux), the film sparked lively reactions. On stage, a Lithuanian producer noted its unmistakably Belorussian (byelorashan) essence, got interrupted by an enthusiastic audience member bellowed “Belarusian!” and replied flegmatically ok, Gudija. It was also mentioned that the lead actor was, due to border restrictions imposed by the Germans, unable to reach Berlin. One of the out-of-the-context questions was about the film’s deliberate mixing of languages: some characters speak Russian while others use Belarusian - how did you come up with that? (Spoiler: they didn't come up, it's the way Belarusian community communicates)

Overall, "The Swan Song of Fedor Ozerov" is a quirky, low‑budget experiment that, despite its technical shortcomings and uneven performances, hints at a deeper, more poetic vision. Its blend of absurd humor, tragic loss, and mythic ambition creates a unique if flawed, cinematic experience—one that leaves us wondering if the promise of its ideas might one day be realized in a more refined work.

Welcome home baby, 2025

 Галлюцинаторно-мистический триллер, эксплуатирующий темы давления со стороны прошлого и предков, псевдорелигиозных культов, закрытых сообществ в дикой глуши, кафкианской невозможности выбраться и сопротивления всему этому. С самого начала всё мрачно и немного нервно, а дальше становится только хуже - герои теряют рассудок, память и самих себя, оказавшись окружёнными очень настойчивыми старухами с непонятными намерениями и интересами. Это старушачье общество очень быстро вцепляется в фрау Доктор, и сразу начинает использовать в своих целях: профессионально - поправить здоровье и для репродукции - даже не спрашивая согласия у будущих родителей, хотят ли они такими быть, и больше того, исправляя их прежние "ошибки". Можно видеть изображение стареющего общества, которое только и ждёт, чтобы поэксплуатировать молодых, или передающиеся как наследство ужасы прошлого, или путешествие в глубины своего сознания, нижние этажи которого оккупированы всякой нечистью, ну или просто пародию на весь жанр ужасов такого рода. Сложно упрекать в недостатке связности историю, в центре которой царит непонимание ситуации самими героями, к тому же все эти лакуны могут оказаться и умышленно оставленными пустотами для заполнения зрительской интерпретацией.

Снято очень эффектно, и камера, и монтаж поддерживают напряжение на высоком уровне, а звук просто не даёт возможности хоть немного отстраниться от зрелища и погружает в гнетущую атмосферу как ребёнка в холодное озеро.

Персонажи очень характерные, одни профессионально нарушают личные границы, другие выглядят то растерянно, то отрешённо.

Конец можно условно считать победным, хотя и совсем не по изначальным представлениям об этом главных героев.

8/10

14.02.25

"Welcome Home Baby" is a hallucinatory, mystical thriller that delves into the oppressive weight of the past, the influence of ancestral legacies, and the insidious power of pseudo-religious cults and closed communities amid lush forests, glistening lakes, and a small, seemingly idyllic village. The film opens with a pervasive sense of gloom and nervous tension, and as it unfolds, the situation deteriorates further. The characters slowly lose their grip on sanity, memory, and identity, all while being surrounded by a group of persistent, enigmatic older women with unclear motives.

The natural setting plays a crucial role in the narrative. Dense forests and expansive lakes are not merely backdrops but integral to Judith's (Julia Franz Richter) traumatic past. Flashbacks reveal that as a child—at the tender age of four—she nearly drowned in a lake, this weird aquatic experience is being recreated afterwards. In a haunting sequence, she awakens in the forest after losing consciousness and memory, with no recollection of how she arrived there.

The village's elderly women relentlessly pressure Judith into assuming the role of the local doctor. They expect her to serve the community by taking care of them one by one in her office—a role she reluctantly accepts, symbolizing her subjugation to their will and the community's desire to exploit her.

The film’s narrative ambiguity—characterized by deliberate gaps that seem designed for the audience to fill with their own interpretation—echoes its thematic concerns about the inescapability of one’s past. While some may note a lack of linear cohesion, this very obscurity reinforces the protagonists’ own confusion and disorientation. In this sense, the film's fragmented structure is less a flaw and more an invitation to engage with its mysteries on a personal level.

Although "Welcome Home Baby" draws on many well-known visual motifs and thematic elements from the horror genre, this abundance of references should not be seen as a lack of originality. Rather, it might be a deliberate strategy chosen by director Andreas Prochaska to communicate with the audience through familiar, classic stamps and stereotypes of imagery and ideas. Criticizing these borrowings as merely derivative is akin to complaining about the inevitable tragic conclusion of a timeless story like "Romeo and Juliet"—the familiarity is part of its enduring power. In fact, at times the film even borders on parody or satire of its own genre, though not in a humorous sense but rather as a pointed commentary on established horror conventions.

Technically, "Welcome Home Baby" is a visual and auditory tour de force. The camera work and editing maintain a relentless, high-tension rhythm, while the sound design envelops the viewer, much like a child plunged into a cold, unyielding lake—ensuring that detachment is nearly impossible. The characters are vividly drawn: some flagrantly transgress personal boundaries, while others drift between bewilderment and detachment, each adding to the film’s eerie, unsettling mosaic. One of the film’s most visually impressive moments involves a sequence with bees (or perhaps wasps) that powerfully doubles as a metaphor for the village’s social structure. In this scene, Judith is portrayed much like a queen bee, used and controlled by her 'worker bees'—the old ladies who, without questioning, dictate her role in reproduction and care. This striking imagery reinforces the film's themes of reproductive control and societal exploitation.

The film’s finale does not feel predestined or inevitable; instead, it offers a glimmer of hope—an outcome that remains tantalizingly possible yet far from guaranteed until the very last moments. In the end, "Welcome Home Baby" stands as a stylishly executed, thought-provoking thriller that invites its audience to explore the haunting intersections of past traumas, societal pressures, and the struggle for individual autonomy.

Кукла с миллионами 1928

 Приключение двух кузенов из Франции в стране победившего социализма, гоняющихся за бабушкиными миллионами (прототип Итальянцев в России), с попытками уничтожить всех кукол в стране, перещупать всех 17 летних девиц и жениться на комсомолке. Успеха никакого никому не грозит, советских девушек просто так не проведёшь - они ещё сами организуют сопротивление и заговор в рамках интернациональной женской солидарности. Правда, миллионы всё равно никому не достанутся, но это и не главное - не в деньгах, как известно, комсомольское счастье.

Фогель очень характерный, но довольно скромный. Ильинский намного ярче. Съёмки без выкрутасов.

5/10

Мой сын 1928

 Семейная драма, разворачивающаяся вследствие неверности женщины, сначала приводит к расколу, затем к мучениям, и потом, к переосмыслению ценностей после экстраординарной ситуации.

Снято смело. Играют как советским трудовым героям и положено.

Короче, встретил Эйзенштейн Гриффита.

Иногда второстепенные персонажи перетягивают всё внимание на себя.

5/10

2025-01-29

Вий 1967

 Завуалированная история эксплуатации в межполовых отношениях. Сначала ведьма ездит на философе, потом он её порет до изнеможения, а потом мёртвая панночка организует антипатриархальный оргиастический бунт, демонстрирующий превосходство бесконтрольно-животных женских сил над мужской учёностью. Визуализация на уровне старого советского анекдота, над которым смеяться можно только из уважения, хотя появление в кульминационный момент Вия, которому нужно что-то слева и справа откинуть, чтобы он смог видеть (ну или его) и пришёл в функционирующее состояние - это уже что-то из области поэзии.

Куравлёв и Варлей очаровательные, атмосфера душевная, природа, там где её не заменили на скору руку на декорации, очень красивая.

7/10

2025-01-26

Nana 1926

 Жутко утомительный рассказ о мнимом взлёте и реальном падении невероятно мерзкой и абсолютно бесталанной девицы, размахивающий со сцены ногами для привлечения очередей из поклонников, среди которых случайно оказываются неспособные себя контролировать благородные лица. В конце все умерли.

Играют неплохо, снято с интересными приёмами.

4/10

2025-01-25