beyond being the most extraordinary of kurosawa’s hybrid creations, aligning facsimiles of his own work which already operated on the edge of genres and building them from from smallest to largest register like overlapping crashing waves, it ends on what i find to be his most affecting reconciliation with death. immediately after the “apocalypse,” we see community halls of roaming survivors, all of whom lost everything and yet are full of life, all possessed by a surprising optimism. It’s important that the…
“i don’t know how to cure ‘old.’”
for all of its exploration of fruitless machismo and the dying ways of old, and even if (some, not all) of the moments are too implicit to land as strikingly as they could, it has a degree of hope that’s far too absent in many modern films. not so much about death as it is a gentle reflection; love should grow not to tide us over till death, but because it is the…
beautiful omnidirectional beast, always expanding and tilting from theme and color and tonal register, threading each aberration to its fullest, and still so much is left to the imagination (so many shots promise something on the edge or only show fractions of it, haven’t seen anything quite like it before). the level at which shyamalan is not existing outside the work is, for me, just a testament to its emotionalism; this feels living, it has a heartbeat and a soul…
how great is it that the final film of tony scott’s career plays as a victory lap of his stylistic interests and as a historical respective of the medium itself; a total mastery in depicting the movement of trains, cars and even horses, the early moving objects of interest in 19th century film, visualized through the form that scott developed and perfected in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, recreating a 2001 runaway train accident for a film released in 2010 and yet made for all of time. we miss ya tony.