Posted by: Vasco | January 7, 2015

2014 in Film: V



The film perfectly captures the claustrophobic relationships of the characters, both Julien with his wife and with his mistress, where even sex is perceived as crushing and distressing. The plasticity of the film’s images is precise, without being blatant, photography and editing are vital to extol the impeccable treatment of time and rhythm… A fragmented little gem.



Certainly works as a drama revolving around a great mystery; its atmosphere and music make it come alive as a chronicle of the 80s, nevertheless, Araki constructs a film saturated with purely organic lyricism. Shailene Woodley and Eva Green shine in their roles. 



Recovers the atmosphere of noir works of the 40s and 50s, a city space marked by crime and some pessimism. Instead of the light and shadow dance, colors surround these characters; the white snow shades cover the scenarios, but not freezes their souls.
Mysterious and engaging, silence reigns over dialogue to present an impressive restraint in exposing the plot… and the feelings of its characters.



On my school notebooks
On my desk and the trees
On the sand on the snow
I write your name

On all flesh that says yes
On the forehead of my friends
On every hand held out
I write your name

On absence without desire
On naked solitude
On the stairs of death
I write your name

On health returned
On the risk dissapeared
On hope without memory
I write your name

By the power of the word
I regain my life
I was born to know you
And to name you


Ruthless and unforgiving, a punch in the stomach of a Hollywood numbed by the illusion of a glamorous (and worker) paradise. Cronenberg’s acidic comment on the hollow narcissism of celebrity culture, wrapped in a feeling of fever dream populated by freaks and perversion is constantly sprinkled by a sordid sense of humor, on the verge of depravation, violently biting the hand that feeds it.



Ingrid, having recently lost her sight is still adjusting to the new reality. Has no desire to leave her apartment, she remains increasingly reclusive, lonelier, more introspective. Stays in her corner, next to the window, accompanied by her laptop and a cup of tea. Drenched in imagination, scenic creativity and blasts of narrative intelligence, its development is quite soft at the beginning and increases its pace gradually until a final full of substance(s), when the protagonist begins to blur more and more with her alter-ego, increasing its meta to more interesting levels, and Vogt abandons the classic rules commonly used in narrative cinema. The waywardness of “four” human beings interconnected by feelings and loneliness.

Top 5 soon.


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