These are the movie premieres that hit the screens starting this April 28:
By Jordi Batlle
Two feature films, Hereditary and Midsommar, have been enough to consolidate Ari Aster in the field of contemporary fantastic cinema, with a legion of enthusiasts as numerous as, on the other hand, the legion of detractors, both with radical positions. Because it is clear that Aster's cinema is loved or hated, it fascinates some and irritates others and is even capable of fascinating and irritating at the same time. Fascination: an evident talent for the creation of atmospheres, narrative breath, images of impact. Irritation: a pretentious solemnity and the constant feeling of having the author in the back seat, whispering in your ear: “look: you see how well I do, this is not even better than Kubrick”.
In Beau is afraid, which is the extended version (very, very extended: the show lasts three exact hours that seems like six) of the short Beau, made by Aster in 2010, that whisper in the ear becomes even more persistent and the levels of fascination they drop noticeably. Unlike Hereditary and Midsommar, which told a story and managed to catch you, Beau is afraid tells practically nothing, reducing the plot to a mere skeleton: the protagonist, Beau, intends to travel to visit his mother and cannot.
The entire film is a journey to the back of the mind of this psychologically sick creature, fragile and innocent as a child, a kind of Forrest Gump propelled into an uncertain metaphysical dimension (did Aster want to keep up to date and foist another metaverse fantasy on us? ?). As three hours go a long way, Aster creates many chapters, incorporates
flashbacks, varies the tone and registers as it suits him. The first act is a gratuitous depiction of the boundless chaos and violence that permeates the city.
Towards the end there is a beautiful fragment, with Beau canoeing through some caves like those of the Drac, to end up in the scene of the trial, a lavish, enormous set, reminiscent of the Senate in the Star Wars saga. Occasional flashes of beauty that fail to hypnotize. This is a hermetic and impenetrable film. It will probably please the unconditional, but there will be many who will have the impression that the hairdresser in the back row has fooled them.
By Salvador Llopart
There are proposals that are pretentious from the outset. That's what one of Someone who takes care of me thinks after the first scene, with a speech of gratitude from Goya that is poorer and more lackluster than, sometimes, the real ones. Not later; then you see that you are facing an ambitious film, without more. A proposal of unleashed emotions, with grandmother (Magüi Mira), mother (Emma Suárez) and daughter (Aura Garrido) locked in a dance of reproaches and silences. A story that looks at the emotional complexity of Chekhov, but that, despite himself, sometimes turns out to be a parody of Almodóvar, when the man from La Mancha becomes enthralled, or a lesser Garci, when Garci becomes judgmental.
In short, cinema with good intentions. Cinema that raises the shot, even if the result falls short. One would say that there are too many tensions -unbalanced interpretations and grandiloquent parliaments- in the conception of the project to come to fruition. This two-headed proposal, with Daniela Féjerman and Elvira Lindo sharing the direction, squanders its good moments, which it has, because of the bad ones, which make us forget the rest.
Among the good moments, those starring Francesc Garrido, of course. Garrido always lives up to expectations. He plays a theater man who is going to direct Chekhov's The Seagull, and who at one point tells his main actress, Aura Garrido, to go live a little and when he has done so, he come back The same thing that one would say to the entire film: that it will take its time.
Time: we have another great moment, or a succession of great moments with respect to the passing of time, with Pedro Mari Sánchez; with the current one and with the aura of the young actor that Sánchez was. In the measured, calm and composed interpretation of Pedro Mari, you notice that the actor has made peace with himself and with the cruel chronology. In the end, reconciliation with time is the objective of this film, which talks about what it talks about -families and misunderstandings- and tries to suggest more than it actually offers.
Por Philipp Engel
Carmen Flores Sandoval reaffirms herself as the new Florinda Chico, at least, in the new film by the director of My Dear Brotherhood, who has seen in her an undeniable force of nature. Flores is once again the best of a comedy with a soap opera plot that seeks its own way between Almodóvar and Aquí no hay quien viva.
The stupendous orchestration and careful musical selection, in which everything from Conchita Bautista to Dolores Vargas fit, does not quite solve a problem of rhythmic anemia that only dissolves when Flores marujea, between the landing and the bingo.
Por Philipp Engel
After Greta Fernández from El frío que quema, Nausicaa Bonnín arrives in the striped uniform of Neus Català, the iconic survivor of Ravensbrück, in another production with similar characteristics, with the TV3 label, and to the greater glory of Daniel Horvath, who plays the evil Nazi in both.
The magnitude of the resilient heroism of the much-admired Republican activist, not to mention the historical impact of the Nazi horror, is however inversely proportional to the mark that this diligent but prosaic telefilm will leave us with soulless images, incapable of moving us. .
Por Philipp Engel
Supported by stupendous performances (Adam Bessa, but above all the two irresistible girls) and a splendid 35mm photograph, the reconstruction of the tragedy that unleashed the Jasmine Revolution in Sidi Bouzid, where this French production was actually filmed, ends however leaving an aftertaste of overheated World Cinema.
The director, of Egyptian origin, carries out an indigestible mixture of genres, between border thriller and torn neorealism, and ends up burning, after announcing it so much, an outcome whose representation also sins with excessive symbolism.
By Salvador Llopart
Only Japanese culture could treat euthanasia justified by economic interest as it is treated here, without raising its voice, with accepted calm. And only a Japanese director, like Hayakawa, has the sensitivity to, beyond social denunciation, talk about the essential.
In this case, talking about community ties and its dark underside condemns her to loneliness. What is essential is what, to simplify, we call solidarity.
By Jordi Batlle
In Sitges 2010, Helander won several prizes, including best film, for Rare exports, and last year he repeated the feat with Sisu, a singular mix of war film and action movie with a western accent, where a laconic gold digger he faces an army of Nazis with the fierceness of a Rambo.
Effectively narrated, staged and rhythmic, it is irresistible entertainment. The protagonist Tommila (also awarded in Sitges) could be the first cousin of Stephen Lang from Don't Breathe.
