PEEZYEM Reviews

Undine (2020)

Berlin Architecture

[8/10 · 24 March 2024]

Be it a compelling storyline, masterful acting, visually stunning cinematography, or an evocative score, film can be truly beautiful. Yet, the true beauty of film often lies in its subjectivity. Christian Petzold's "Undine" is a testament to this, weaving together a modern love story with the threads of a historical fairytale with remarkable finesse.

Starring two of my favorite German actors, who deliver their roles not with grandiosity but with an impactful subtlety, "Undine" is a cinematic triumph. These performances, alongside Petzold's direction, create a series of understated yet unforgettable scenes that stay with you long after the credits roll. The film's score is another highlight, capturing the mood with such precision that it elevates the entire narrative. The inclusion of supernatural elements not only adds depth but allows the film to transcend its love story roots, engaging with themes of loss, heartbreak, and the necessity of moving forward-a narrative as old as time yet continually refreshing to explore.

While it may not reach the heights of Petzold's previous work, "Transit," which also featured the talented Paula Beer and Franz Rogowski, "Undine" stands on its own as a must-see. It's a film for those who cherish love in all its forms, offering a fresh perspective on the age-old narrative of love and loss.

The Zone of Interest (2023)

The banality of evil.

[8/10 · 12 March 2024]

Holocaust-themed films have consistently been a pivotal element of global cinema. They navigate through the darkest facets of humanity while simultaneously unveiling the most noble aspects of the human spirit. Whether showcasing the harrowing depths or the commendable heights of human conduct, these stories leave a lasting impact, garnering accolades and serving as a poignant reminder of a past that horrifies yet inspires.

Jonathan Glazer's "The Zone Of Interest" distinguishes itself within this genre; No other film has so incisively captured the mundane nature of evil. Despite the atrocities occurring just beyond view, audible yet distant, the film presents a narrative deeply rooted in the day-to-day that feels eerily familiar.

It weaves in everyday life events - from sibling rivalries and heartfelt mother-daughter conversations to chance encounters with man's best friend and brushes with authoritative bosses. These vignettes resonate with anyone familiar with the nuances of everyday life, setting a profound contrast against the backdrop of evil's banality.

The performances by Sandra Hüller and Christian Friedel are nothing short of remarkable. However, their brilliance is subtly masked, as Glazer maintains a deliberate distance throughout the film. This artistic choice fosters a connection to the mundane aspects of daily life while preventing the audience from becoming overly attached to the underlying evil of the presented characters. This sense of commonality is skillfully juxtaposed with the stark contrasts of the film's setting, underscored by a haunting soundtrack orchestrated by Mica Levi and her team.

The film's power is amplified by a resonant tie between past and present, culminating in the final scenes. It serves as a chilling reminder that the past, though distant, remains profoundly relevant.

Sitcom (1998)

A Wild Satire on Domestic Bliss

[7/10 · 7 February 2024]

Francois Ozon's "Sitcom" revels in its exaggerated, campy take on the quintessential nuclear family dynamic often depicted in TV sitcoms. Portraying an upper-middle-class family complete with the archetypal troubled kids, an overwrought wife, and a disengaged father whose presence is more about quantity of words than quality of connection, Ozon dives deep into the absurd.

Taking the familiar television family setup, Ozon twists it into a provocative and sexually charged narrative, creating a film that serves as a precursor to the dark, satirical works of directors like Todd Solondz and Yorgos Lanthimos. At the heart of "Sitcom" is a caged rat, a potent metaphor for the repression imposed by patriarchal society. When the metaphorical cage is opened, all societal norms and familial boundaries are thrown out the window, leading to a series of increasingly wild and taboo escapades, from school dropouts hosting orgies at home to incestuous relationships.

Ozon's fearless approach to storytelling underlines the absurdity and hypocrisy of societal norms, pushing boundaries to emphasize the destructive nature of repressed desires. "Sitcom" is a bold examination of the chaos that ensues when these repressions are unleashed, told through the lens of a filmmaker unafraid to mix humor with discomfort.

While "Sitcom" might not cater to everyone's taste, finding its humor and messages either too shocking or outlandish, it undeniably stands out as an entertaining piece of cinema.

Joyland (2022)

Who are you, really?

[9/10 · 7 February 2024]

Saim Sadiq's "Joyland" navigates the complexities of identity and societal expectations with a grace that belies its debut status. This film, marked by its poignant title, unfolds a narrative rich in contradiction and raw emotion, portraying the struggle of living under the shadow of patriarchal norms. It's a story that, while deeply rooted in the specifics of West Asian culture, resonates universally, touching on the inherent human desire for authenticity.

At its core, "Joyland" challenges viewers to confront the realities of those who dare to defy societal prescriptions for identity and love. The film's portrayal of self-discovery and the quest for personal freedom amidst oppressive structures strikes a chord, irrespective of one's own life experiences. This message of resilience and the search for self in a prescriptive world is what gives "Joyland" its universal appeal.

The cast brings to life the film's complex themes with compelling performances. Ali Junejo and Rasti Farooq skillfully convey the internal struggles of characters navigating their paths, but it's Alina Khan as Biba who truly captivates, delivering a breakthrough performance that embodies the spirit of defiance and transformation at the heart of the narrative.

"Joyland" finds a delicate balance between exposing stark realities and celebrating the human spirit's capacity for resistance and change. It's a film that doesn't shy away from difficult conversations, instead inviting its audience to engage deeply with the nuances of identity, acceptance, and the courage to break free from societal molds. Through this lens, Sadiq's film is not just a story about specific cultural issues but a resonant exploration of the universal journey towards finding one's place in the world.

Oslo, August 31st (2011)

Brilliant.

[9/10 · 16 November 2023]

Those familiar with the dark cloak of depression will find a kindred spirit in Anders, a young man wrestling with the dual demons of addiction and existential despair. Beneath his struggles lies a deeper void, one that he constantly grapples to define and fill. While society celebrates the milestones of domestic life, they seem inconsequential to Anders.

On paper, he's a success story - a privileged background, promising career prospects, and a magnetic appeal. Yet, he's trapped in a cycle of substance abuse and fleeting relationships, seeking solace but finding none.

Regardless of life's ebbs and flows, Anders' internal landscape remains desolate, a sentiment succinctly captured in the simplicity of "When things go 'good' there's nothing. When things go 'bad' there's nothing."

His job interview and fleeting moments of intimacy at a party showcase his innate charm, contrasting sharply with a subtle, sad undertone. This dichotomy brings to mind the oft-repeated narrative following many tragic losses to depression: "They were always so vibrant."

Anders Danielsen Lie's portrayal of this tortured soul is nothing short of mesmerizing. Even in scenes bustling with life and vibrancy, a palpable undertone of coldness and numbness lingers. While others celebrate or bemoan the trivialities of life, his melancholic demeanor paints a striking contrast.

In "Oslo, August 31," we're granted a window into a life where the external veneer of happiness masks a tempest of emptiness, and where nothing can help fill a void that's widening by the minute. Through its nuanced portrayal, the film serves as a somber reminder of the complexities of the human psyche and the silent battles waged behind the brightest smiles.

45 Years (2015)

A Ghost Story 50 Years in the Making

[9/10 · 6 October 2023]

In the tenderly crafted narrative of "45 Years," Andrew Haigh draws us into a world where the fabric of a lifelong commitment is tested and strained over the span of a mere week. Through a poignant exploration, the film showcases the vulnerabilities of young love, the paramount importance of communication, and the often overlooked tremors of unsaid emotions.

The most chilling ghost stories are not characterized by visible apparitions, but by the silent presence of memories that linger, affecting the living in profound ways. For 45 long years, the specter of Geoff's previous love, Katya, remains dormant, casting no shadow over his marriage with Kate. However, as the narrative unfolds, this ghostly memory emerges from the depths, causing Kate to question the very foundation of their shared life.

The cinematic gem is further illuminated by the brilliant Charlotte Rampling, who brings a depth and vulnerability to Kate, as she grapples with the realization of being unwittingly juxtaposed against the memory of Katya. From seemingly innocuous details - from her hair color and name echoing Katya's to choices made throughout their life together, like the adoption of a German Shepherd - Kate discerns patterns that suggest she might have been living in the wake of another woman's legacy.

Yet, Haigh's narrative doesn't paint Geoff's actions as mere acts of replacement. Relationships are complex tapestries woven from past experiences, shaping our choices in subtle ways. But Kate's growing sense of displacement is amplified by significant markers: their lack of photographic memories, in stark contrast to Geoff's keepsakes from his time with Katya; the unspoken reasons for their childlessness; and the resonances of Katya even in the couple's most intimate moments, like their chosen wedding song.

The magic of "45 Years" is in its delicate unraveling of a relationship's intricacies. While past loves may influence decisions subconsciously, Kate's growing awareness of her seemingly secondary role in Geoff's heart is heart-wrenching. This film is not just a narrative of love and loss but a deep dive into the realization and acceptance of one's place in another's life. It reminds us that beneath the veneer of a long-term relationship lie depths of emotion and memory, some cherished and others best left undisturbed. Through "45 Years," Andrew Haigh presents a timeless tale that explores the layers and echoes of love, both lost and found.

Zero Fucks Given (2021)

We're all carrying too much baggage to fit in the overhead.

[8/10 · 24 September 2023]

Every soul carries its share of baggage, and in Emmanuel Marre and Julie Lecoustre's evocative drama 'Zero Fucks Given', this universal truth is explored with a potent blend of literal and metaphorical resonance.

From the outset, viewers are confronted with a vivid tableau of desperation and anxiety as we witness a woman, visibly on the brink, grappling to fit her baggage into the rigid compartments of travel. This struggle serves as a poignant allegory for the protagonist Cassandre's emotional journey, portrayed with remarkable depth by the talented Adele Exarchopolous. As the narrative unfolds, we delve into a trove of accumulated sorrow borne out of loss and unprocessed grief. The void left by her mother's passing haunts not only Cassandre but also her father and sister, each ensnared in their private battle with the remnants of despair.

Cassandre's instinct is to flee from her torment, hoping to find solace in new horizons. Yet, the film eloquently underscores a stark reality: no matter how far you fly, the shadows of your past will tail closely behind. No destination exotic enough, no drug potent enough, and no career enticing enough can mask the wounds etched deep within. Cassandre's futile attempt at evasion reflects a melancholy truth; the specters of the past are loyal companions on the journey of life.

As the narrative reaches its crescendo, 'Zero Fucks Given' nudges its protagonist and the audience towards an inescapable realization: healing is a voyage inward. Amid the gentle symbolism of the roundabout, where Cassandre finds herself towards the end of the film, lies a profound message. Just as life's relentless currents swirl around, individuals like Cassandre find themselves anchored amidst its flow by their unaddressed burdens.

In the emotionally charged final act, we witness Cassandre mustering the courage to face the shadows of her past, a crucial step that hints at the dawn of acceptance. As she untangles the knots of her grief, there's a subtle uplift in the narrative tone, leaving both Cassandre and the audience with a budding hope for the days to come. This tender note of optimism amidst a journey laden with emotional tumult encapsulates the essence of 'Zero Fucks Given', offering a gentle nudge towards the liberating path of self-confrontation and healing. Through Cassandre's evolving lens, we are reminded that facing our internal tumult is the first step towards unfurling a future free from the anchor of unresolved sorrow.

The Empty Hours (2013)

Mermaids and Iguanas.

[8/10 · 22 September 2023]

In the quaint realm of cinematic storytelling, "The Empty Hours" by Aaron Fernandez Lesur emerges as a gentle whisper amongst the cacophony, retelling a narrative as old as time in an understated yet serene manner. Through the film, Lesur eloquently demonstrates that minimalism, when well-executed, can often encapsulate more essence and emotions than grandiose displays.

The narrative orbits around two disparate souls: a youthful Sebastian and an elder woman, Miranda, who stumble upon each other by a mere stroke of fate. Though their interaction is fleeting, the resonance of their connection adorns their lives with a soft yet indelible touch, sketching a lingering effect that transcends the transient nature of their encounter.

The metaphorical representation of an iguana meeting a well-traveled mermaid elegantly captures the distinct worlds and timelines they hail from. Stranded on the same shore yet bound to different destinies, Sebastian and Miranda share ephemeral moments before being swept back into the tides of their own existences. These brief interludes, though not destined to blossom into something profound, were essential whispers of fate, earmarked for them to experience. While Sebastian glimpses into the future through Miranda's lens, she, in turn, traverses down the memory lane, reminiscing the ebullience of yore.

The delicate interplay of Sebastian's nascent hope for what lies ahead and Miranda's reflection on the dwindling days, sets a poignant yet hopeful undertone. This contrast carves a melodious rhythm that propels the story forward, providing a balanced vista of exhilaration and melancholy. Though the flame of their camaraderie flickers briefly, never destined to roar into a blaze, it's the fleeting warmth that accentuates the tender essence of the narrative.

The storytelling, while following a predicted trajectory, takes refuge in the tranquil moments, methodical pacing, and the aesthetically pleasing cinematographic hues that embellish each frame. It's within these quiet instants, amplified by nuanced performances, that the film carves a niche for itself. The subtlety, far from being a shortcoming, becomes its forte, allowing "The Empty Hours" to transcend conventional storytelling and provide a contemplative refuge, making it a subtle yet profound cinematic venture worthy of appreciation.

The House That Jack Built (2018)

Lars Looks in the Mirror.

[8/10 · 16 July 2023]

Lars Von Trier's 2018 film, "The House That Jack Built," transcends its surface narrative as a grimly comedic exploration of art and violence to serve as a potent dissection of its creator's own psyche.

The film's brutal story, punctuated by the existential musings of its titular character, Jack (Matt Dillon), serves as a conduit through which the filmmaker grapples with his own artistic impulses and the expectations levied upon him by society. To understand the film in its fullest context, one needs to delve deep into Von Trier's psyche and the broader tapestry of his own work.

Von Trier has been known for his controversial films, which often push the boundaries of societal norms and cinematic conventions. These are no casual forays into discomfort, but rather, they are systematic explorations of the human condition and the outer limits of behavior. At times, it seems as though Von Trier himself may benefit from psychoanalysis, if only to shed light on the psyche of the man who can create such unsettling masterpieces.

"The House That Jack Built," is not merely a tale about a serial killer; it is a study of a man who progressively pushes the boundaries of his art, mirroring Von Trier's own journey in filmmaking. Jack, initially an engineer, is bound by the constraints of his profession and societal norms, but he yearns for the freedom to be an architect, seeking to build a legacy for himself; something he can achieve through his own vision - in this instance, a house.

The pivotal moment in the film comes with the interjection of a sudden, transformative passion that sets Jack on a new path. It's a passion that steers Jack away from the norm, pushing him towards a path of greater personal significance - at least in his own eyes. This mirrors Von Trier's career, marked by a significant shift from mainstream narratives to pushing cinematic boundaries with films that provoke, challenge, and disturb.

Initially, Jack is depicted as a haphazard executioner, but as he grows more comfortable with his new 'craft,' his art becomes more daring, creative, and experimental. In a parallel manner, Von Trier's early pieces might have seemed less refined or unpredictable to some observers. However, as he honed his craft, experimented, trialed, and tests, he has developed a signature filmmaking style that consistently provokes intense responses from viewers.

In the end, Jack does indeed build a legacy, but not as he initially planned. His 'house' ends up being a collection of his monstrous deeds, a testament to his twisted artistic journey. Again, the parallels to Lars remain; His body of work, much like Jack's, has often been met with shock, controversy, and rejection. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, he continues to create, leaving an indelible mark on the world of cinema.

Von Trier's "The House That Jack Built" is thus not just a film about a murderer, but an exploration of the nature of art and the struggle of the artist. It is a deep dive into the mind of an individual who defies convention, providing a provocative commentary on the creative process and the artist's role in society. It is, in many ways, a self-portrait of Von Trier himself, who, like his protagonist Jack, continually tests the limits of his artistry, undeterred by societal perceptions.

Certified Copy (2010)

The Original is Incomparable.

[9/10 · 1 July 2023]

The spectrum of human relationships has always been a delicate enigma, a beautiful puzzle that sometimes feels impossible to solve. Abbas Kiarostami, a maestro in weaving tales that delve into the intricacies of the human heart, unfurls yet another opus with the severely underrated "Certified Copy."

From the very outset, "Certified Copy" captures your senses in a vice grip. There is something in the air, an unspoken tension that begs to be unraveled. Through an ingenious opening monologue, Kiarostami gently ushers you into a world where the essence of art and human relationships are questioned. Can a replica ever replace an original? Is an imitation devoid of the soul that an original piece embodies? And, by extension, can a heart ever be truly fulfilled by a love that's not its first?

Enter the protagonists, Elle and James, portrayed with breathtaking realism by the ever-brilliant Juliette Binoche and surprisingly deft newcomer William Shimmell. As if caught in a tapestry of conflict, emotions, and retrospection, they paint a portrait of two souls seeking something they cannot define. Their conversations are not just dialogues but a tapestry of unsaid words and hidden yearnings.

James, an author and intellectual, seems to grapple with a churning inside him. In his monologue, he speaks of the original as authentic, genuine, relatable, and lasting. In juxtaposition, Elle embodies these very adjectives. A woman, who for fifteen years, has held onto the fragments of a love that felt as real as the air she breathes. She is a representation of the nostalgia and warmth that an original piece of art holds.

As their journey unfolds, there's a ceaseless push and pull. Through passionate debates and arguments, it becomes evident that James and Elle are both battling their inner turmoils. James, in particular, seems to be convincing himself that an alternative can hold as much essence as the original, yet his fervent assertions seem more like desperate affirmations to his own fractured heart.

The beauty of "Certified Copy" lies in the artistry of foreshadowing. The first act, on the surface, may seem placid, but it is laden with a treasure of cues that you may only grasp upon a second viewing. It's akin to studying a painting where each glance unveils a new brushstroke, a new emotion.

And then there's Elle, resplendent in her vulnerability and strength. She holds the mirror to the truth that nothing can truly replace the original. It is not just a piece of art; it is a part of your soul, an imprint that never fades. Through her, Kiarostami poignantly asks if we are ever whole without that first, untainted brush with love.

Kiarostami's deft touch guides the narrative, exploring the delicate tension between the genuine and the replica. How often do we trade the depth and intricacy of original love for something more convenient, yet less fulfilling? How do the choices we make in recognizing or rejecting true value shape who we are?

"Certified Copy" is an exquisite piece of art in itself, one which proves that something original will always have a more profound impact than any imitation.

Swimming Pool (2003)

Ozon Dives Deep

[8/10 · 1 July 2023]

François Ozon's "Swimming Pool" is an intoxicating erotic mystery that plunges deep into the abyss of the creative mind. It's a film that captures how it feels to wander through the depths of one's subconscious, a journey I found myself relating to a little more than I anticipated.

The brilliance of "Swimming Pool" comes alive through the riveting performances of Charlotte Rampling and Ludivine Sagnier. What struck me was the poise with which they carried their characters; the drama never tipped over into theatricality, even as the plot dabbled in dramatic tones.

Meet Sarah Morton (Charlotte Rampling), the epitome of creative languor; A successful writer with a flair for the scandalous yet trapped in a monotony that colors her life a dreary gray.

There is a glimmer of life in her, though. The dashing Charles Dance as John Bosload, her publisher, brings a sparkle to her eye. Their conversation is almost like a dance of words where you can sense the suppressed emotions of a deep connection. Her muted excitement is palpable when John offers her his country home for respite, hoping that he might join her on the journey. This is not just a getaway; it's a drift toward the floodgates of creativity and hidden yearnings.

Ozon's craft lies in using the ordinary to create layers of meaning. Take, for instance, the titular swimming pool. At first glance, it's a mere background to the quaint French country house. But as the film unfurls, you realize it's a reservoir of Sarah's inner depths. The clutter in the pool parallels the clutter in her mind - both longings to be sifted through for clarity and truth.

The French setting is nothing short of poetic. The rolling countryside, the air of nonchalance; it's as if the wind whispers to Sarah to break free. And break free she does, but not alone. Here we cross paths with Julie (Ludivine Sagnier), a whirlwind of vivacity, sensuality, and unapologetic impulsiveness. She's the yang to Sarah's yin, a free spirit that catalyzes the unraveling of Sarah's cloistered soul.

Here, reality begins to waltz with fantasy. As Sarah immerses herself in the creation of her next book, her life becomes inextricably entangled with her characters. There's a poignant reference to stitches on Julie's stomach, almost symbolic, maybe signifying a bond with Sarah, a life not lived, or a part of her soul that's eternally wounded.

Ozon's deft handling ensures that as the film reaches its crescendo, you are as adrift between fantasy and reality as Sarah. It's almost an out-of-body experience as her emotions finally bleed onto the page through a passionate letter. This cathartic and liberating moment culminates in her personal and creative voyage.

"Swimming Pool" is more than a movie; it's an experience. It's an ode to the creative spirit and a deep dive into the labyrinth of human emotions. Through a mesmerizing narrative and impeccable performances, François Ozon invites us on an odyssey that challenges our perceptions, rouses our senses, and ultimately makes us wonder - where do we end, and where do our creations begin?