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Antoine Corbani

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Horrific. An absolute nightmare, albeit one that is flawlessly constructed and executed. A direct assault on our archetypal Manichaean perceptions of narrative, whereby light always overcomes darkness. There is none of that in this. All rules are broken to maximize pain and terror. Fascinatingly, Haneke knows this. He is fully aware of the effect the film has on his audience. He predicted exactly how we would feel and how we would react. He directly exposes and critiques our hypocritical perceptions of violence in the cinema, and brings us to question why we normalize such violence in the first place. This was simultaneously the most frustrating (as Haneke clearly anticipates), horrifying, and "real" film I have ever seen. However, I cannot, in good conscience, claim that I enjoyed the experience, as it has been personally designed by Haneke to be as uncomfortable and disturbing as possible. Funny Things is the epitome of hopeless cinema. An excruciating but riveting watch. I can only recommend this for the strong-willed, it certainly is not a film for the faint of heart.
Memoria is a slow film, but I like to think of it more as a meditative experience. Tilda Swinton's performance as Jessica, a woman whose mind is haunted by an enigmatic "boom" that no one else can seem to hear, is legendary. The film's dreamlike quality moves with patience; the narrative takes its time, and the mystery of the "boom" shifts in and out of our consciousness, just as it does with Jessica, slowly revealing the most minute and the most mundane aspects of quotidian life in jarring new ways. A fascinating psychological drama with a pinch of surrealism that reanimates and refreshes the arthouse genre, and soothing medicine for the mind. As the great Abbas Kiarostami said of films like "Memoria": "Some films have made me doze off in the theater, but the same films have made me stay up at night, wake up thinking about them in the morning, and keep on thinking about them for weeks.”
An unforgettable experience. I saw this for the first time on a flight to London, and was itching to rewatch it as soon as it ended. In my opinion, never has a documentary, besides perhaps Errol Morris' Gates of Heaven, been so full of that magical substance which makes us human. “Four Daughters” constitutes a unique social experiment and monumental cinematic experience, where a Tunisian woman named Olfa hires two actresses to play her daughters following their sudden disappearance. We watch closely as Olfa and her two remaining daughters revisit painful memories and learn to find love amidst a pool of darkness. A riveting work of art that explores our ability to understand tragedy and our confrontations with evil and suffering in their rawest forms, and a testament to the strength of the human spirit and the beauty of sisterhood. A must-watch.
The Night, which recounts the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict from director Mohammad Malas' native Syrian perspective, is a powerful, gorgeous odyssey through memory and time. The dream sequences that open the film are breathtaking and the dialogue is beautiful, like a Qabbani poem. I've never wanted to pick up Arabic again more than I have after watching this film. A groundbreaking relic of Arab cinema, sprawled with excellence in every technical aspect and narrative element. I was lucky enough to have a screening of this presented by none other than Malas himself in Bologna at the Il Cinema Ritrovato festival, who reflected on the timeliness and persistent relevance of his film, even over thirty years after its release. For those interested in the tumultuous history of the Middle East, The Night is an essential and unfortunately overlooked masterpiece that is as gripping as it is rich in detail and imagination.
Exploding onto the ever-developing indie scene is Charlotte Regan's feature debut Scrapper, featuring brilliant performances from Harris Dickinson and young star Lola Campbell. The film examines the hardships of both parenthood and childhood with care, empathy, and quirky cynicism, making for a deeply moving and easily accessible narrative designed for a diverse audience. Bleeding with maturity, emotion, and style, "Scrapper" is exactly what the independent drama scene direly needs. A case study on humanity in a purely raw form and on our inherently flawed nature, the film is ultimately a gorgeous fable of forgiveness and love in a time where such virtues are most necessary.
Sudanese director Ibrahim Shaddad's experimental short film “A Camel” is, in my opinion, the greatest short film I have ever seen. As someone who studies both film and political science, it is extremely difficult to overlook the politics of certain films, even if the director or writers, for example, claim that no such thing exists within their film. As Wim Wenders explains: “Every film is political. Most political of all are those that pretend not to be [...].” I certainly agree. However, this does not apply to Shaddad’s “A Camel”, due to its explicitly political nature. It is told from the perspective of the camel itself, a point of view that is unfortunately often unexplored in film. The camel works tirelessly in a sesame mill, when the film quickly shifts to the perspective of an exploited laborer in an increasingly industrialized society and globalized economy. Of course, this does not undermine or take away from a potential reading of the film as a critique of animal abuse, constituting the beauty of the film’s many potential and very relevant interpretations. The use of dreamlike and absurd imagery, notably the iconic shots of the camel wearing glasses, wigs, headscarves (etc.) as metaphors for its own abuses, reinforces the film’s status as a supreme political force and an essentiality of Middle Eastern cinema.
In recent years, it has become a general consensus in France, from critics and the public alike, that our national cinema is progressively losing its prestige, due to the lack of incoming original ideas, star power, and writing talent. Raunchy comedic tropes and storylines are endlessly recycled (an example of which is the nightmarish “Les Tuches” franchise that is still ongoing) and the French drama was thought to have lost its voice. However, many films since the start of the decade (and their success both in France and abroad) seem to mark a revival of great French cinema: “Portrait of a Lady on Fire”, “Titane”, “Anatomy of a Fall”, and now, Alexandre de La Patellière and Matthieu Delaporte’s “The Count of Monte Cristo”. Based on Alexandre Dumas’ classic novel, it tells the story of the young Edmond Dantès, who, on the day of his wedding, is framed by monarchist bureaucrats who claim that he is an ally of the Bonapartist movement and must therefore be imprisoned. Indefinitely jailed in Marseille’s iconic Chateau d’If, Dantès plots his ambitious escape and dreams of exacting revenge on his accusers. An explosive performance from Pierre Niney as Dantès is certainly the highlight of the film, combined with the gorgeous cinematography and its depiction of Southern France, a powerful score, and ravishing costume design. A delightful feast for the eyes and ears that somehow got a considerable number of French critics to agree on its brilliance.
I was rather disappointed by this alleged standout at the 2024 Annecy International Animation Film Festival, directed by Chinese filmmaker Busifan. The film was noted for its slick and refreshing alternation between ink wash painting techniques and traditional hand-drawn animation throughout its runtime. While I did appreciate and acknowledge the volition to use such an interesting combination of styles, the first half of the film felt rather static and devoid of visual charm, and the film’s “look” only really starts to stand out towards the last 20 minutes. Additionally, the narrative, from start to finish, was rather difficult to follow, hindered even more so by poor subtitling and a lack of much-needed exposition. As a result, enjoying the experience was quite a challenge. The character design, however, is excellent, and was immediately reminiscent of Studio Ghibli’s plethora of fantastic childlike imaginations from the likes of “Spirited Away” and “My Neighbor Totoro”. We follow two protagonists, Mantou, a young boy, and his adoptive father Daguzi as they explore a massive ship that has washed up on the shores of a nearby river which is said to contain priceless treasure. However, the arrival of a brutal storm marks the beginning of a mythical prophecy’s fulfillment and a life-changing journey for the both of them. It is clear that “The Storm” is a very personal work to Busifan, which is perhaps why its story might seem so difficult to definitively grasp for me. Furthermore, these narrative weaknesses take away from the impact of the film’s deeply emotional ending, which I found to be a great shame. Ultimately, there is an immense amount of potential in Busifan’s work, I just wished his storytelling and writing were more refined in order to properly accompany his artistic vision.
One of the funniest movies I've ever seen, and most likely my favorite comedy. A vision that is so ahead of its time. Mastroianni is supreme, and the writing is excellent, covered in deep cynicism and timeless humor. The synopsis plants the seed for its very effective (and still very relevant) criticism of the relationship between Catholic social norms, its influence and resulting hypocrisy, and Italy's legal system (and, by extension, any country with a significant Catholic influence). More broadly, of course, Germi seeks to criticize the prevalence of machismo and patriarchal hegemonies in European societies and their controversial (if not detrimental) impacts on subsequent legal matters and social life. This film is certainly the most effective gateway introduction to Pietro Germi’s other works, which are heavily coated in like-minded social commentary and explore Italian taboos and other uncomfortable cultural-political discussions. An extremely clever classic of Italian comedy and satire, full of twists and an analysis of the politics of gender and European patriarchies that has aged like fine Tuscan wine.
Perhaps the first documentary I have seen that would work perfectly as both a piece of fiction and for what it really is: reality. Emerging Chilean auteur Maite Alberdi’s “The Mole Agent” is a powerful and deeply emotional reflection on friendship, mortality, and their interconnectedness with aging. The film follows Sergio, an elderly man who is hired by a private investigator to infiltrate a retirement home in order to determine whether a woman living there is being abused, per her daughter’s concerns. However, Sergio quickly gets entangled in his relationships with his other acquaintances at the retirement home and his infectious joy for life ultimately gets the best of him, distracting him from his main assignment. One of the most heartwarming and heartbreaking films I’ve seen in recent years, one with a deep love for the people of the world and their many stories, driven by the energy of its wholesome ensemble and the genius of its director. I look forward to watching Alberdi’s “The Eternal Memory” as soon as possible.
A difficult film for me to fully appreciate or fully dislike. Its ambition is truly remarkable and must be congratulated. However, I find that it has subconsciously subjected itself to the very stereotypes on beauty standards and the TV industry that it seeks to deconstruct, to the point of making it overly exploitative for the viewer and subsequently rather redundant. I tip my hat off to the two leads, however: Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley give it their all, and Moore’s win at the Golden Globes is, to me, fully justified. There is also something to be said about Dennis Quaid and his portrayal of the vulgar CEO Harvey. While there are considerable problems with the editing, several plot holes, and the overall message of the film, they have been understandably overlooked by audiences and critics due to the sheer scale of Coralie Fargeat’s vision. I am glad that she received the Oscar nomination and I look forward to seeing what comes next from her.
Perhaps the most cliché film I have found myself actually enjoying, due to the plain yet irresistible presence of man’s best friend. This is a very ordinary film, and one that takes advantage of existing conventions to tell a story that is familiar to all of us, as familiar as man’s relationship with the beloved dog. As a result, there is very little to say about the film’s form: it does not defy any expectations, nor does it want to. This film’s success lies in its banality, both aesthetically and narratively. The best way to describe it would be Korean “Love Actually” but with dogs. While there are many films out there that present the human-animal relationship in a more touching or complex light, I would still consider this a must-watch for all animal lovers. There is something intensely contagious about this film’s touching portrayal of how we care for each other and for animals, made accessible for all viewers due to its intimate simplicity.
A ridiculously charming, hyper-stylized animated tale on childhood, single parenthood, and growing up in French society. I deeply connected with this film during its very short 73 minute runtime. It truly felt like a breeze, yet I believe the narrative itself demands no more than such an amount in order to tell a wonderful and effective story. The voice performances are excellent, the animation a feast for the eyes. The absurdity of the premise and the film’s artistic/metaphorical embellishment (and, occasionally, negative depiction) of life in the French projects is used to exert a significant amount of political commentary on French society, adding to the maturity of its style and its ability to connect with audiences of all ages. Certainly one of the highlights to come out of Cannes’ ACID program and Annecy 2023.