What to see in theaters.
THE BATMAN ★★★☆☆
By Matt Reeves
An undeniable aesthetic success, but a scenario that struggles to rise to the same level.
After attempting to mingle Batman with the rest of the superhero populace (batman v superman and Justice League), Warner Bros. returns to the initial formula of the encapé solo, already ten years later The Dark Knight Rises. Objective clean slate: exit the Burtonian carnival, the Bondian solemnity of Batman of Nolan or the virilistic anxiety of Zack Snyder. It is a question here of dismantling the icon to keep only the essence and to give him back his license of gifted detective of which the cinema has always deprived him.
We therefore meet a blue Batman (Robert Pattinson), who has been in office for only two years. Twenty-four months walking the streets of Gotham at night to drive away the spleen of the death of his parents and to encrust himself on the crime scenes of his only friend, Lieutenant James Gordon. Revenge personified finds herself investigating a serial killer who is eliminating the powerful of Gotham one by one. And at each murder site, the mysterious Riddler leaves clues for Batman…
Built like a film noir lo-fi and bombastic at the same time, The Batman first amazes with its vision of Gotham, more alive than ever. The impeccable artistic direction gives birth to a real city, garish and disreputable, whose “reality” cannot be doubted. Robert Pattinson evolves there as evidence, finds his own way without plagiarizing his predecessors. A Batman sublimated by the cinematographer, Greig Fraser (Dunes).
A racy vision that unfortunately no longer quite holds when the scenario gets into the hard: the darkness evoked in interviews seems diminished despite the brutality of the action scenes, and the promise of a tortured Dark Knight is not kept. Moreover, more than in his demonstrations of force or his stubbornness in never resembling what preceded him, it is when he finally decides to show the inner turmoil of his hero instead of theorizing it that The Batman is at its best.
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FIRST TO MANY LOVED
THE HIGH PERCHES ★★★★☆
By Raphael Mathie
Long sequences of mountain life interspersed with the burials of the ancients: good, okay, at first sight Up there perched does not exude pure joie de vivre, but as the documentary unfolds an impressive atmosphere. We are in Chasteuil, in the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence, a place where ex-sixty-eighters and war survivors lived, in a post-end of the world atmosphere that evokes a little the end of The Leftovers. And we are not ready to forget certain shots (a rainbow rising in the rocks, the old people gathered around the projection of their old films of youth in Super 8…) nor this maddening sequence where we sees on TV the images of the outside world, where the pandemic is exploding, while outside, the mountain is very peaceful.
NOTHING TO FUCK ★★★☆☆
By Julie Lecoustre and Emmanuel Marre
Cassandre, 26, a stewardess in a low-cost company, lives day by day to the rhythm of flights, stopovers, forced smiles at passengers, drunken nightclubs and Tinder dates. one night. A daily life without a past and without a future, a perpetual headlong rush that could easily be mistaken for a general anaesthetic. I don’t give a fuck, so. Very nice film title for this first feature. From the less than cheerful backstage of low-cost aviation, the duo Julie Lecoustre – Emmanuel Marre paints a funny and melancholic generational portrait, built on a production bordering on documentary. Effective process that does justice to the impressive work of Adèle Exarchopoulos, as if immersed in her inner world, embodying the bubbling of an existential crisis. The film could (should?) have stopped there, but the young woman will soon be overtaken by the patrol in a much more conventional second part, where an original trauma that we would have gladly done without is revealed. But the final solar plan easily makes up for these few mistakes.
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ALI & AVA ★★★☆☆
By Clio Barnard
Her name is Ava. A widow of Irish origin at the head of a scattered family, rebuilding her life seems far from her concerns. His name is Ali. A young taxi driver of Pakistani origin, he can’t manage to admit to his family that his wife is leaving him. Although living in the same city of Bradford, they had no reason to meet and even less to love each other. And yet… With Ali & AvaClio Barnard (The Selfish Giant) achieves the perfect mix between romantic comedy and social film through a love story lived against all odds, starting with the difference in age, religion and race which earned them violent reactions from part of their surroundings. She takes on these societal issues with flamboyant benevolence, devoid of sentimentality. A beautiful film in the noblest sense of the term and an irresistible duo of actors: Adeel Akhtar- Claire Rushbrook
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By Constance Meyer
” Cinema makes you stupid “says Gérard Depardieu in Robust, as if talking to himself. A good part of the film is of the same barrel: a meta and often funny reflection on the actor. The story of an ogre here called Georges, embittered movie star, whose bodyguard/nanny has to be away for several weeks. Aïssa (Déborah Lukumuena, Caesarized for divine) takes over. Robust recounts the meeting of these two massive bodies with cracks not so far apart. If the path is marked out, Constancer Meyer (for her first feature) takes a step back to put herself in the position of an observer, with a soft and tender gaze. Lukumuena, solid, easily returns the ball to Depardieu. The main attraction of the film however finds here its best role for years: more sensitive than robust, finally.
By Gabriel Tejedor
Welcome to the mining town of Magnitogorsk with one of the most important iron and steel sites in Russia. This is where Swiss director Gabriel Tejedor put his camera after hearing that the place looked like ” Mad Max decor. In this documentary, we follow a handful of thirtysomethings, men and women, living more or less directly from the metallurgical complex (Kombinat). In the shade of the factories, hopes do like the rest, they allow themselves to be buried. By focusing on his protagonists, Gabriel Tejedor nevertheless manages to grasp a possible humanity and even vitality. It’s a sun breaking through the horizon, a picnic in a dacha, a dance class where everyone forgets their inhibitions… Soon, the whole city will find itself in a zenith full to bursting, to celebrate the vitality of the Kombinat .
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FIRST TO MODERATELY LOVED
COME, I WILL TAKE YOU THERE ★★☆☆☆
By Alain Guiraudie
Médéric, a thirty-year-old sore from Clermont-Ferrand, falls madly in love with a fifty-year-old prostitute, Isadora. After an attack hits the city, the life of the young man will be complicated by his encounters with a homeless man suspected of terrorism, an intrusive colleague, next-door neighbors torn between the desire to hold out their hand and that of barricade yourself… The Aveyronnais Alain Guiraudie went to Puy-de-Dôme to find the setting for this boulevard and political comedy, a picture of contemporary France navigating between anxiety and laughter, freak out and fantasy. The writing of the film, highly tightrope walker, first connects the sequences according to an attractive surrealist logic. Too quickly, however, this will to delirious reality is weighed down by the temptation of a “reasoned” speech on the evils of the country. Guiraudie indeed appears uninspired when he details the little politico-media circus that circumscribes our imaginations, thus falling himself into the trap of sociotypes. On arrival, the feeling that the filmmaker imprisons his characters more than he frees them predominates.
PREMIERE DIDN’T LIKE
By Kenneth Branagh
We are in 1969, in Belfast therefore. Buddy is 9 years old, and grows up between his mother, his older brother and his adored grandparents. His father works in England and is very often absent. When the film begins, tensions between Catholics and Protestants flare up. When the Orangemen try to recruit Buddy’s father, he refuses and becomes a potential target… Buddy’s childhood is turned upside down, but the boy takes refuge in the imagination and theaters.
From the first images, it’s clear: beyond the simple autobiographical chronicle, Belfast reads like the return of a filmmaker to the sources of his vocation. Branagh intends to explore this indecisive zone between the History (of Ireland) and its (intimate) history, mixing the universal and the personal. A journey to find your identity, and why not, your mojo. Because what Branagh says is that the Irish conflict was the powerful engine of his imagination. But after a few scenes, we therefore ask ourselves the question: why, from the sets to the actors, including the photo and the dialogues, does it all sound so false? The staging first, with its silky black and white that resembles the look of old Harcourt photos. The characters, reduced to an accessory. And then this mixture of opportunism and easy daydreaming that ends up sinking the project. But perhaps the worst is his lack of perspective on The Troubles. It will be said that the experience of adolescence is filtered through the recklessness of youth, that everything is seen from the height of a child. But he is a wise child, devoid of madness or real imagination. We are touching on what has characterized Branagh’s works over the past few years. Even when the subject interests him, the result is never truly embodied.
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Down in Parisby Antony Hickling
Vincennes Gateby Claude Chamis
The unfinished letterby Mikhail Kalatozov