Sorry this has been posted a day late! A lot of things are going on in my life. It’s a bit much to bear, and it’s what kept me from writing anything else for a bit. This morning, I have a funeral to head to, and to add more to the stress building up, I found out I need to get a root canal. These last few weeks have been a lot for me to handle, to the point that I feel almost like it’s been suffocating. I don’t even know how much time to myself I’ve had, but I’m trying to do the best I can to cope with it all crashing down.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: Beijing Watermelon (1988, Nobuhiko Obayashi)

One of Nobuhiko Obayashi’s very best; one that I believe deserves to be ranked in that same class as works like House and His Motorbike, Her Island. Sure, it’s a more grounded work compared to the films that Obayashi’s reputation has been established upon, but it’s no less enticing – if only for the fact that it’s done with great empathy. This movie is one built on acts of kindness, for Obayashi believes that human beings are capable of doing such good. With this film’s hook being built around Japanese-Chinese relations, perhaps that opens the door for a more moving text.

#2: Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977, Steven Spielberg)

This is one of the greatest movies ever made, and seeing it on 70mm has only locked that down for me. Then again, it’s not like I would ever find myself doubting Steven Spielberg of all people when it comes to delivering pure scale. This movie perhaps captures our unified fascination with the unknown, taking the Lovecraftian theory and turning it on its own head – while retaining the abject horror of it all. At the same time, it still feels like it’s Spielberg at some of his most personal, given how it’s built on absent parents, and the means of reconciling with them. Devastating for the same reasons it’s beguiling.

#3: Fight Club (1999, David Fincher)

Not like I have anything particularly original to say about Fight Club that hasn’t already been said before. Yet, given the nature of the novel by Chuck Palahniuk, it’s impressive just how much this film all comes together as a portrait of rising extremism in young men. And for that alone, it’s a rather prophetic film, given how much of it is built on the vulnerabilities of young men being channeled into violence, misogyny, and even terrorism. Today, I couldn’t help but find that in an era where people like Andrew Tate have a massive platform, Fight Club still stings greatly.

#4: The Funeral (1988, Juzo Itami)

One of the funniest movies ever made about how exhausting the process of grieving can be. It’s also one of the saddest movies that I think anyone can make about families being broken apart, and not really having much of a chance to properly reconnect because of traditions. Everything about this movie shows a funeral going the ways you could never count on it to go. And that’s where Juzo Itami found the perfect balancing act between comedy and tragedy: because the awkwardness of stilted family reunions can only make you realize something’s amiss.

#5: My Life as a Dog (1985, Lasse Hallström)

Speaking of movies that find the perfect mix between comedy and tragedy, here’s one that I hadn’t seen in a long time. To my memory, it’s both as life-affirming and as heartbreaking as I remembered it being. I’ve never exactly been a massive fan of Lasse Hallström’s work, only because his Hollywood work has embodied the worst kind of emotionally manipulative schmaltz. A film like My Life as a Dog is the exact opposite: it’s a very lived-in movie all about a young boy growing up, trying to cope with the pains from experiencing tragedy. And it’s just absolutely beautiful.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• The Great Silence (1968, Sergio Corbucci) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Vegapolis (2026, Micha Barban Dangerfield) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Tower That Built a City (2026, Mark Myers) - ✯✯½

Saturday

• Death at a Funeral (2010, Neil LaBute) - ✯✯½

• Murderock (1984, Lucio Fulci) - ✯✯✯½

• His Girl Friday (1940, Howard Hawks) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Sentient (2026, Tony Jones) - ✯✯½

• Time and Water (2026, Sara Dosa) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Seoul Guardians (2026, Kim Jong-woo, Kim Shin-wan, Cho Chul-young) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Aroused by Gymnopedies (2016, Isao Yukisada) - ✯✯✯½

• Erupcja (2025, Pete Ohs) - ✯✯✯✯

• A Beautiful Life (2011, Anderw Lau) - ✯✯✯

• The Woman in the Rumor (1954, Kenji Mizoguchi) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Funeral (1984, Juzo Itami) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Dawn of the Felines (2017, Kazuya Shiraishi) - ✯✯✯½

• Viridiana (1961, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Star Wars (1977, George Lucas) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Mitski: The Land (2025, Grant James) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Liebestraum (1991, Mike Figgis) - ✯✯✯✯

• Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977, Steven Spielberg) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

Tuesday

• Wet Woman in the Wind (2016, Akihiko Shiota) - ✯✯✯✯

• Mother Mary (2026, David Lowery) - ✯✯½

• Weekend (1967, Jean-Luc Godard) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Amoeba (2025, Siyou Tan) - ✯✯✯✯½

Wednesday

• Sorority House Massacre (1986, Carol Frank) - ✯✯½

• The Devil Wears Prada 2 (2026, David Frankel) - ✯✯✯½

• Porco Rosso (1992, Hayao Miyazaki) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Beijing Watermelon (1989, Nobuhiko Obayashi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Eugene the Marine (2025, Hank Bedford) - ✯✯✯✯

• My Life as a Dog (1985, Lasse Hallström) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Measures for a Funeral (2024, Sofia Bohdanowicz) - ✯✯✯✯

• Fight Club (1999, David Fincher) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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You might notice my writing has slowed down a bit lately. Between two family tragedies having happened so close by each other, it’s also taken a toll on my own ability to focus on something that I loved doing. Circumstances at home aren’t any less exhausting than they are right now, but I’ll also take a minute to emphasize that I myself am doing fine. There’s another article that I am going to publish soon which better emphasizes what I’m feeling, especially knowing that certain things out of my control have caused me to reconsider priorities.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: American Doctor (2026, Poh Si Teng)

Ever since October 7th, I feel like my own adherence to my belief in Palestinian rights has only been reaffirmed more than ever. It’s been reaffirmed in the sense that I think we cannot see any justifiable reason to be “neutral” about Israel’s ongoing assault on Gaza. It’s among many reasons why I think this film ought to be seen by more: because it’s a film that shows the scope of what is happening in places where corporate media does not want to report on. At Hot Docs, this was easily the best film that I saw there: alongside Steal This Story, Please! – which fittingly is also about a Jewish activist for Palestinian human rights.

#2: In the Realm of the Senses (1976, Nagisa Oshima)

Nagisa Oshima, in my opinion, should be ranked as one of the greatest filmmakers in Japanese cinema. Not just because he’s among the most radical of the bunch, but because he sees everything in our world differently. In taking a story that has been sensationalized by the Japanese media for so long, Oshima’s film emphasizes sex, even to a point of exhaustion. Knowing that even the actors were actually performing the acts on each other is one thing, but Oshima’s purpose isn’t titillation. Instead, it’s the kind of cinema that gets you to rethink the circumstances that led into the act taking place to begin with.

#3: Prince of Darkness (1987, John Carpenter)

YOU WILL NOT BE SAVED. Hard to forget that moment when it happens, but I’ve also stood by Prince of Darkness as being maybe the most underrated John Carpenter film for a long while. Whether it’s in the fact that we’re seeing religion and science constantly butt heads, it seems like Carpenter’s got a pointed anger that only targets how indifferent human beings can be to worsening living conditions. Plus, there’s that very creepy Alice Cooper appearance: one that truly is for the ages.

#4: Stroszek (1977, Werner Herzog)

I’m always spooked by the fact that this movie was in fact, the last movie that Joy Division’s lead singer Ian Curtis, had watched before he took his own life. At the same time, the tragic nature of Stroszek might be where this all comes together perfectly. I think it’s not only Werner Herzog’s funniest, but also his saddest: and it gives you a sense of what he really thinks of the American Dream. A monumental work in every sense of the word. It’s a movie that wanders aimlessly, because that’s what it feels like to think things can get better in a very cruel world – one which is fittingly enough, shot in Ed Gein’s hometown.

#5: Walker (1987, Alex Cox)

The whole conceit of Walker fascinates me. Alex Cox was never going to make a movie valorizing a colonizer as much as he was going to make one that plays up the conceit of historical epics as popularized through cinema history. The film exists in a weird conundrum as a result, but it’s all the better for it. Ed Harris is playing William Walker as straight as possible, while delivering lines about his belief in democracy as he’s bringing anything but to Nicaragua. Then there come the anachronistic inserts, which only emphasize how people like William Walker are still running around now. A brilliant movie, especially if you were to take it all as a long joke.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Prince of Darkness (1987, John Carpenter) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The One (2001, James Wong) - ✯✯✯

• Let Our Mountains Live (2026, Håvard Bustnes) - ✯✯✯✯

• Cruel Story of Youth (1960, Nagisa Oshima) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Blue Heron (2025, Sophy Romvari) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Walker (1987, Alex Cox) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

Saturday

• In the Realm of the Senses (1976, Nagisa Oshima) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Echoes from a Sombre Empire (1990, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯½

• Public Access (2026, David Shadrack Smith) - ✯✯✯½

• Wheel of Time (2003, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯½

• Barbara Forever (2026, Brydie O’Connor) - ✯✯✯✯½

Sunday

• Where the Green Ants Dream (1984, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯½

• Land of Silence and Darkness (1971, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• 32 Meters (2025, Morteza Atabaki) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Stroszek (1977, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Night of the Juggler (1980, Robert Butler) - ✯✯✯✯½

• How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck (1976, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯½

• Monty Python’s Life of Brian (1979, Terry Jones) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Sorcerer (1977, William Friedkin) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Dark Glow of the Mountains (1985, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Ballad of the Little Soldier (1984, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯✯

• Huie’s Sermon (1981, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯

• The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner (1974, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Apolo (2025, Tainá Müller and Isis Broken) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Birds of War (2026, Janay Boulos and Abd Alkader Habak) - ✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• American Doctor (2026, Poh Si Teng) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Searching for Drug Peace (2026, Alisher Balfanbayev) - ✯✯✯✯

• Steal This Story, Please! (2025, Carl Deal and Tia Lessin) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Death at a Funeral (2007, Frank Oz) - ✯✯✯½

• Saigon Story: Two Shootings in the Forest Kingdom (2026, Kim Nguyen) - ✯✯✯

• INDIVISUM: Legacies Adrift (2026, Katia Café-Fébrissy) - ✯✯✯½

• A Fox Under a Pink Moon (2025, Mehrdad Oskouei and Soraya Aklhalagi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• God’s Angry Man (1981, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯½

• Phenomena (1985, Dario Argento) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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We had a family tragedy hit us this week, so my writing has stalled accordingly to let myself breathe. And the manner in which one lets out their writing can even be reflected in what they’re going through: since I’ve also got another piece about these unfortunate circumstances in the works. Bear with me, I’ll still go on about the many films I’m seeing because it’s what keeps me moving through life. That said, I’ll also apologize in advance if it seems like I am pretty low energy.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: The Gambler (1974, Karel Reisz)

This movie cuts a bit deep as someone who’s spent a while during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic playing games at online casinos. For one, it reminds me how much fun these games can be, but it’s also a truly dangerous way of living if you’re playing with real money. Few movies get that gambling addiction isn’t really an addiction as much as it is a lifestyle, and it’s also what makes James Caan’s role here among the most compelling of his career.

#2: Hairspray (1988, John Waters)

Never exactly cared much for the later Hairspray Broadway musical, and its film adaptation with John Travolta in the Divine role. That having been said, first finding out that it was John Waters who created the original Hairspray, knowing him more for his transgressive works, it doesn’t come out as much of a surprise this is purely one of his works. It’s as pure John Waters as one can get, because of how we already know what he stands for within the world, but also knowing that he earnestly believes the next generation leads a good fight for the future. Something we might only need more of a reminder of now.

#3: Hud (1963, Martin Ritt)

Paul Newman has been one of my favourite actors for as long as I can remember. If you asked me, then I would be ranking either this or The Hustler as his best role, but maybe this one hits a bit harder. Perhaps it’s something that stems from Newman’s youthfulness representing the budding disillusionment that builds within those who chase the American Dream. Hud is as sad a movie as they’ll ever get, but an actor like Newman knows that even in his character’s self-destructive mannerisms, there’s still humanity that only causes this downward spiral to take form.

#4: Romancing in Thin Air (2012, Johnnie To)

Funny story: I’ve only been able to watch this film illegally because most of Johnnie To’s works are so hard to come by. Now that Radiance Films has put out a beautiful new Blu-ray edition for its first official release outside of Hong Kong, I’m happy to see that more people will finally get the chance to experience this beautiful movie. In my eyes, it’s one of To’s best films, but it’s also a romantic comedy that utilizes its own template to build something more meaningful. After all, with all these familiar tricks implemented once more, you see that To is a filmmaker who believes earnestly in film having that power to unite. And as trite a message it may be, I can’t help but love it.

#5: Speed Racer (2008, Lana and Lilly Wachowski)

I’ve always been a fan of Speed Racer since I first saw the film as a kid. Now? I’m always happy to see that it’s built such a devoted following, because it makes me feel vindicated for having loved it day one. I’m standing by the belief that the Wachowskis are among the most important filmmakers who worked within the blockbuster scene, but you sense that they’re people who love to take freely from their influences. It all comes together beautifully here, in this movie that’s quite evidently built upon what our “inner child” responds to, but also the same idealism that affirms independence against corporatism. Lana and Lilly Wachowski were ahead of the game with this one.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Visitors from the Arkana Galaxy (1981, Dušan Vukotić) - ✯✯✯

• Hud (1963, Martin Ritt) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Happiness (1998, Todd Solondz) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Delta (1996, Ira Sachs) - ✯✯✯½

• The Fisher King (1991, Terry Gilliam) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Freaks (2018, Zach Lipovsky and Adam B. Stein) - ✯½

• The Grifters (1990, Stephen Frears) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Blade (1995, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• The Dead Thing (2024, Elric Kane) - ✯✯✯

• Short Sharp Shock (1998, Fatih Akin) - ✯✯✯

• Trainspotting (1996, Danny Boyle) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Clearcut (1991, Ryszard Bugajski) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Diary of the Dead (2007, George A. Romero) - ✯✯✯

• Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998, Terry Gilliam) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Big Lebowski (1998, Joel and Ethan Coen) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Speed Racer (2008, Lana and Lilly Wachowski) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Gambler (1974, Karel Reisz) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Cobra Verde (1987, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Wodaabe: Herdsmen of the Sun (1989, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯

• Of Time and the City (2008, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯

• Romancing in Thin Air (2012, Johnnie To) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Prince of Darkness (1987, John Carpenter) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Birth (2004, Jonathan Glazer) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Boogie Nights (1997, Paul Thomas Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Hairspray (1988, John Waters) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Woman in Witness Protection (1997, Juzo Itami) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Kontinental ‘25 (2025, Radu Jude) - ✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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It’s been a bit of a slow week. Tragedy one after another is rolling into my family, and my watching habits have also slowed accordingly because of it. Truth be told, things just haven’t been as great as they once were. I almost feel as if I’ve been losing my own motivation to watch movies because the ability to escape inevitability can’t really shield you from everything for so long. Nonetheless, I hope that with readers like you all, I still am able to satisfy. Everything will be okay in the end, at least I wish to tell myself.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: The Crying Game (1992, Neil Jordan)

I think this movie has been ruined for so many people because of their knowledge of “the twist.” And a very transphobic wave in popular culture has only followed it since: even to a point where it becomes difficult to talk about this film in such spaces. Nonetheless, with Criterion releasing the film on 4K in July, I thought it was a perfect time to revisit this, especially as one of those people who was spoiled because of said twist. It helped me realize that this film is more than just a clever one, but it’s also a very devastating and complex movie about persecution in an oppressive world. And in turn, realizing the scope of the violence that you become complicit in with compliance.

#2: The Deep Blue Sea (2011, Terence Davies)

The most underrated Terence Davies, in my eyes. I think I’ve come to see this as one of his very best after getting the chance to see it on a beautiful 35mm print as part of the ongoing Terence Davies retrospective at the TIFF Lightbox. It’s a movie all about a self-destructive love affair, but Davies understands a certain feeling of yearning that only wounds you as you cling onto it. One of Rachel Weisz’s best performances, but Davies’s fractured storytelling does wonders for a movie like this – for it encapsulates that lingering pain and its effect on your own memory. It’s a movie built around how we remember our loves.

#3: The Devil, Probably (1977, Robert Bresson)

I think that this movie has done a lot for my own understanding of anarchy within the world we live in. And for the better, at that, especially because of the bleak state of things that Robert Bresson has created in here. It’s a movie that reflects the desire to make things better, but what it feels like to go up against a system that will always put down the people who desire it. Yet, Bresson is the kind of filmmaker who feels for their struggles, and admires their effort to change the world for the better. Maybe it’s not too late to enact some of this in the real world, especially if the next generation can set their mind to it.

#4: Monty Python’s Life of Brian (1979, Terry Jones)

Of the three Monty Python feature films, this is my favourite one. I think it only goes without saying that this movie is one that speaks to me as someone with a Catholic upbringing. Perhaps because it helped change my views on devotion among people who call themselves Christians, as they further an agenda of hatred (especially now). Life of Brian is a movie that makes me laugh, but it also reminds people of the actual virtues from your own religious beliefs – because it’s not religion that the film is mocking, but the fanaticism surrounding it. I think it is just one of the funniest films ever made.

#5: My Undesirable Friends: Part I - Last Air in Moscow (2024, Julia Loktev)

I don’t think I’ve ever been so quick to deem a documentary this decade as “quintessential” like I have with both this and No Other Land. It all stems from a certain willingness to engage with people from within Russia who are trying to maintain a sense of democracy, despite the authoritarian state that Vladimir Putin has enforced. Of course, with their invasion of Ukraine still ongoing to the degree it is, it’s maybe most powerful because this struggle we’re seeing is very personal. When most documentaries about Russia-Ukraine right around now take an easy, moralizing stance, something like this examines a breakdown happening in real time. And it’s harrowing, especially knowing the massive running time.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• The Mortuary Assistant (2026, Jeremiah Kipp) - ✯

• 3:10 to Yuma (1957, Delmer Daves) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Faces of Death (2026, Daniel Goldhaber) - ✯✯✯✯

• The House of Mirth (2000, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Monty Python’s Life of Brian (1979, Terry Jones) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Ms .45 (1981, Abel Ferrara) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Terence Davies Trilogy (1983, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A Quiet Passion (2016, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Illustrious Corpses (1976, Francesco Rosi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Marc by Sofia (2025, Sofia Coppola) - ✯✯✯

• The Deep Blue Sea (2011, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Sunset Song (2015, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974, Joseph Sargent) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• One Battle After Another (2025, Paul Thomas Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Wild Blue Yonder (2005, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯

• Bound (1996, Lana and Lilly Wachowski) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Thrash (2026, Tommy Wirkola) - ✯

• Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985, Tim Burton) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Hamlet (2025, Aneil Karia) - ✯✯✯

• The Devil, Probably (1977, Robert Bresson) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Thief (1981, Michael Mann) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• The House with Laughing Windows (1976, Pupi Avati) - ✯✯✯✯½

• My Undesirable Friends: Part I - Last Air in Moscow (2024, Julia Loktev) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie (2025, Matt Johnson) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Drive Angry (2011, Patrick Lussier) - ✯✯✯, watched on 35mm and in 3D

Thursday

• The Tenant (1976, Roman Polanski) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Crying Game (1992, Neil Jordan) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Roommates (2026, Chandler Levack) - ✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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I ended up becoming one of a lucky few who were able to get their hands on Dune: Part Three tickets on IMAX 70mm, for a showing all the way over in December. I can’t exactly say that I’m too fond of this new practice of selling movie tickets this far in advance. Granted, I love seeing movies on 70mm and will do anything for the format, but even I have a certain limit on that ground. Times like this even push me. It was ridiculous when The Odyssey did it a year in advance, it’s ridiculous now for Dune: Part Three. Here’s hoping I do like the movies, at least…

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: 964 Pinocchio (1991, Shozin Fukui)

Shozin Fukui passed away on April 2, 2026. This rewatch was dedicated to his memory, and I think that this movie deserves to be continuously ranked as one of the great works of cyberpunk cinema. Perhaps because everything about the world its titular character looks so ordinary, but the purpose that he serves is anything but. It’s lonely, but one can’t help but feel as if in its grossness, it accentuates the foundations of the capitalist machine as people are trapped into it.

#2: Deep Crimson (1992, Arturo Ripstein)

In my eyes at least, Arturo Ripstein deserves to be listed as one of Mexico’s greatest filmmakers. Among all his great films, this one’s my favourite – perhaps because it’s every bit as romantic as it is upsetting. It all starts with how Ripstein frames this story, which was based on true crime, but later we see ourselves wondering how they end up getting enabled to begin with. Even to that end, we only find ourselves feeling for both Coral and Nicolás on this murder spree, which accentuates the guilt as it builds up to the explosive climax.

#3: The Long Day Closes (1992, Terence Davies)

TIFF has started a retrospective dedicated to Terence Davies this month. Out of all his films though, this one has been my favourite – only because it reminds me of what my own childhood was like. Except Davies’s fractured storytelling gives us a sense of how we end up remembering these defining moments of our youth. And it’s the kind that ends up taking us back, even while the movie itself is unfolding. Perhaps that only indicates it’s the best sort of cinema, because it’s always so deeply evocative.

#4: Point Blank (1967, John Boorman)

In my eyes, this is John Boorman’s best movie. Or at the very least, it’s my favourite solely because Donald E. Westlake is one of my all-time favourite writers. At the same time, I can’t think of any more movies that better nail down how paranoia distorts the way you view the world quite like this one does. Every minute of Point Blank feels like you’re seeing everything coming down on you, to the point you can’t trust anyone even for a second. And in its dreamlike presentation, it even blurs that line between what we recognize as real and fake anymore.

#5: Ride Lonesome (1959, Budd Boetticher)

Maybe my favourite of the Ranown cycle, along with The Tall T. A film that utilizes CinemaScope in order to capture a lingering hellscape that consumes the mind. Of course, this has always been one of the biggest draws of the Ranown westerns, for the lower budgets gave Budd Boetticher the opportunities to play around more. And in a way, it exposes the ugliness that’s innate to America’s founding, told within the same genre that built its own myths.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Faces of Death (1978, John Alan Schwartz) - ✯✯

• The Long Good Friday (1980, John Mackenzie) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Decision at Sundown (1957, Budd Boetticher) - ✯✯✯½

• The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964, Pier Paolo Pasolini) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Long Day Closes (1992, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Buchanan Rides Alone (1958, Budd Boetticher) - ✯✯✯✯½

Saturday

• The Carpenter’s Son (2025, Lotfy Nathan) - ✯✯

• Classe tous risques (1960, Claude Sautet) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Stuck (2007, Stuart Gordon) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976, Clint Eastwood) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Elite Squad (2007, José Padilha) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Super Mario Bros. Movie (2023, Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic) - ✯✯

• The Drama (2026, Kristoffer Borgli) - ✯½

• Singin’ in the Rain (1952, Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Benediction (2021, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Earth (1998, Deepa Mehta) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Vulcanizadora (2024, Joel Potrykus) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Two Women (2025, Chloé Robichaud) - ✯✯✯✯

• Castration Movie Anthology i. Traps (2024, Louise Weard) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Deep Crimson (1996, Arturo Ripstein) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Applesauce (2015, Onur Tukel) - ✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989, Kazuki Omori) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Super Mario Galaxy Movie (2026, Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic) - ✯✯

• The Neon Bible (1995, Terence Davies) - ✯✯✯½

• Point Blank (1967, John Boorman) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Deathstalker (2025, Steven Kostanski) - ✯✯✯½

• Even Dwarfs Started Small (1970, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯½

• 964 Pinocchio (1991, Shozin Fukui) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• New Rose Hotel (1998, Abel Ferrara) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Ride Lonesome (1959, Budd Boetticher) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Blue Trail (2025, Gabriel Mascaro) - ✯✯✯½

• 100 Sunset (2025, Kunsang Kyirong) - ✯✯✯✯

• How to Blow Up a Pipeline (2022, Daniel Goldhaber) - ✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

Letterboxd

My Criterion flash sale orders have arrived! That’s the first thing that starts off this week, because I’m publishing a bit late on Good Friday. Nonetheless, I think you might have noticed I’ve been on a bit of a mood for westerns, solely because I find that these films have embodied some of the very best in American cinema, given their mythmaking potential. A few of these have even made it into here, mind you! So let’s get right to it, shall we?

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: 3:10 to Yuma (1957, Delmer Daves)

I consider this to be one of the greatest westerns ever made. Solely because Elmore Leonard’s writing holds the whole idea of the “good guy” and “bad guy” to task, especially when seeing it set against the violent history of the United States. This whole movie unfolds as a morality play, where people are wrestling with how their values are determined based on how they handle those they deem unworthy. It’s enough to make a great back-and-forth dynamic between both Van Heflin and Glenn Ford, especially when the roles of hero and the outlaw are put to task, before exploding into an opera of violence. The remake is good too, but in my eyes, it doesn’t come anywhere near as close to what Delmer Daves had accomplished.

#2: 7 Men from Now (1956, Budd Boetticher)

One of my Criterion flash sale orders was the Ranown Westerns box set. I had already seen The Tall T some years ago, but I figured that I should probably go through the entire cycle at some point. That’s what brought me to watching 7 Men from Now, as it’s the first film to be classified as one of the “Ranown westerns,” starring Randolph Scott and executive produced by Harry Joe Brown. It’s astonishing to think something of this scope was made on a very low budget, but it’s also a testament to Budd Boetticher’s efficient filmmaking techniques. The template is laid clear from the western setting, but maybe what stuns me most about these films is just how they deconstruct the notion of pride that these films have represented through history. And the future films in this cycle have gotten no less harrowing.

#3: Classe tous risques (1960, Claude Sautet)

This underrated masterpiece by Claude Sautet was one that I had not seen in many years, perhaps because it has been hard to find at libraries over here. Nonetheless, I think this film only belongs on lists of the greatest crime films of all time, not just for its influence on Jean-Pierre Melville but its morality. The English title on Letterboxd doesn’t do this movie justice, only because the French title, Classe tous risques sounds a lot like “Classe touriste.” It’s an indicator for how long Abel Davos’s glory was set to live, as he’s now found himself in a spot where he’s been doomed to be on the run for the rest of his life. And clearly, it has dragged the people he loves most along with him.

#4: A New Love in Tokyo (1994, Banmei Takahashi)

A movie all about the lives of sex workers living in Tokyo’s nightlife, which may be one of the most wholesome movies of the 1990s? It sounds almost like an impossibility, but that’s exactly what Banmei Takahashi has made with A New Love in Tokyo. A film that explores the professional lives of such people, but allows us to experience the joys and sorrows that they encounter in their daily lives. What’s come forth from this might also be one of the great hangout movies, too. There’s a beautiful sense of community solidarity which you’re getting from seeing how everything unfolds in A New Love in Tokyo, and I think that just makes it all the more beautiful.

#5: Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch)

I think this is one of the funniest movies ever made. No one made comedies quite like Ernst Lubitsch, and not especially during the time when the Hays Code was in its burgeoning days. Lubitsch knew exactly what he was doing here, considering his characters are all deviants who want to con the upper class in some way or another. Class hierarchy evidently has its own weaknesses, and those who know their wits can make the most out of it with relative ease. It makes for great slapstick, but also one of the most sexually charged movies of Hollywood’s classic era.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Man of the West (1958, Anthony Mann) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Stagecoach (1939, John Ford) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Forbidden Fruits (2026, Meredith Alloway) - ✯✯✯

• Profils paysans: le quotidien (2005, Raymond Depardon) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid (1973, Sam Peckinpah) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Pretty Lethal (2026, Vicky Jewson) - ✯✯

• 22 Jump Street (2014, Phil Lord and Christopher Miller) - ✯✯✯½

• Conversation Piece (1974, Luchino Visconti) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Modern Life (2008, Raymond Depardon) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Shanghai Blues (1984, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Bone Tomahawk (2015, S. Craig Zahler) - ✯✯✯½

• Mike & Nick & Nick & Alice (2026, BenDavid Grabinski) - ✯✯✯½

• 7 Men from Now (1956, Budd Boetticher) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Winchester ‘73 (1950, Anthony Mann) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Mad Fox (1962, Tomu Uchida) - ✯✯✯✯½

Monday

• The Ritual (2025, David Midall) - ✯½

• The Ice Storm (1997, Ang Lee) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Forty Shades of Blue (2005, Ira Sachs) - ✯✯✯½

• Le Cercle Rouge (1970, Jean-Pierre Melville) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Anaconda (2025, Tom Gormican) - ✯½

Tuesday

• Relaxer (2018, Joel Potrykus) - ✯✯✯✯

• Out of Sight (1998, Steven Soderbergh) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Shelter (2026, Ric Roman Waugh) - ✯✯½

• Heat Lightning (1934, Mervyn LeRoy) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Marty Supreme (2025, Josh Safdie) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Chungking Express (1994, Wong Kar-wai) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A New Love in Tokyo (1994, Banmei Takahashi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• 3:10 to Yuma (1957, Delmer Daves) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Classe tous risques (1960, Claude Sautet) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• David Byrne’s American Utopia (2020, Spike Lee) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Crime 101 (2026, Bart Layton) - ✯✯½

• What Does That Nature Say to You (2025, Hong Sang-soo) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Tall T (1957, Budd Boetticher) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

Letterboxd

A bit of a slow week again, consisting of job applications being unread, or the usual three words we don’t like to hear: “After careful consideration.” Don’t worry though, I’m doing fine, but it’s been a bit slow as I’m waiting for another money-making opportunity to come my way soon, or at the very least, a more permanent and sustainable one. I’ve also been a bit slow with publishing on Cinema from the Spectrum after all, because that’s just how much the job hunt really takes out of you – yet, it doesn’t take away my own love of cinema, either. So here we have it.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

Subscribe now

#1: Damnation (1988, Béla Tarr)

Béla Tarr passed away earlier this year, and this screening, of course, was hosted in his memory. The first thing that I think anyone can say about Béla Tarr is just that he’s one of the greatest filmmakers who ever lived. And yet, I think that while watching how his own brand of cinema unravels, we’re seeing the whole world unfolding in that same amount of time, especially with how much of his films unfold in unbroken takes. That’s maybe the perfect way a film like Damnation can get its own message across, especially when it’s a movie all about societal collapse, and what happens to humanity in its wake.

#2: Desperate Living (1977, John Waters)

Never thought I would be seeing John Waters of all people receiving the 4K UHD treatment, but Criterion has promised that for June. After all, there aren’t many filmmakers who capture the grime that exists within American suburbia quite like John Waters. Being the closer to his “Trash Trilogy,” Desperate Living feels as if it were Waters at his most audacious, because his cinema has always been the sort that embraced the societal deviant. That’s what kind of a world he’s created in Mortville, but it’s also the aftereffect of American excesses pushing forth gentrification on its own people.

#3: The Ox-Bow Incident (1943, William A. Wellman)

Who would have thought a movie about mob mentality set within the old American west would still have some political resonance today? That’s one among many things that makes The Ox-Bow Incident one of the greatest of all westerns, but it’s a very tightly woven story that just gets the job done in 75 minutes. Given the era when it came out, it’s a particularly harrowing watch, all made even clearer by the way that Wellman frames the violence bound to happen within this setting. After all, it’s baked into the essence of American history.

#4: Phantom Thread (2017, Paul Thomas Anderson)

The last time I had seen Phantom Thread was maybe five years ago, on a 70mm print no less. I feel almost like any subsequent revisit of Phantom Thread would just seem underwhelming if I compared it to that, but maybe that’s exactly why I’m glad that a revisit since then was on a 4K UHD disc. It’s about as gorgeous a movie as I remembered it being, but it’s also a movie about people who realize each other’s weaknesses. Paul Thomas Anderson knows that it’s very twisted on paper, yet that’s exactly why it works as a romantic story – especially given the routines that people like Alma and Reynolds are trapped within.

#5: Tiger on the Beat (1988, Lau Kar-leung)

Greatest chainsaw fight in cinema history? You know what, I might just have to agree. Not that Lau Kar-leung is the kind of filmmaker who would be letting down on incredible action. Yet, there are just certain tricks happening in here that almost seem like they’re impossible to describe, so you just need to see the movie for yourself. Still, that chainsaw fight is exactly as promised: both the funniest and most astonishing set piece you could ever want from a Hong Kong action movie from a Shaw Brothers alumni.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Now and Then (1995, Lesli Linka Glatter) - ✯✯✯✯

• Code of Silence (1985, Andrew Davis) - ✯✯✯✯

• Once Upon a Time in Beirut (1995, Jocelyne Saab) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Last Embrace (1979, Jonathan Demme) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• The Delta Force (1986, Menahem Golan) - ✯✯

• Once Upon a Time in the West (1968, Sergio Leone) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Hit the Road (2021, Panah Panahi) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Addams Family (1991, Barry Sonnenfeld) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Tiger on the Beat (1988, Lau Kar-leung) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• What Have They Done to Your Daughters? (1974, Massimo Dallamano) - ✯✯✯✯

• Fearless Hyena II (1983, Chan Chuen) - ✯✯

• Captive of the Desert (1990, Raymond Depardon) - ✯✯✯

• Nahla (1979, Farouk Beloufa) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• My Own Private Idaho (1991, Gus Van Sant) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Desperate Living (1977, John Waters) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Devil Wears Prada (2006, David Frankel) - ✯✯✯½

• Phantom Thread (2017, Paul Thomas Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Mercy (2026, Timur Bekmambetov) - ✯

• Sinners (2025, Ryan Coogler) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Door (1988, Banmei Takahashi) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Sting (1973, George Roy Hill) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Project Hail Mary (2026, Phil Lord and Christopher Miller) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 70mm

• 3:10 to Yuma (2007, James Mangold) - ✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• The Ox-Bow Incident (1943, William A. Wellman) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Tin Star (1957, Anthony Mann) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Damnation (1988, Béla Tarr) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• 21 Jump Street (2012, Phil Lord and Christopher Miller) - ✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Brawl in Cell Block 99 (2017, S. Craig Zahler) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Silverado (1985, Lawrence Kasdan) - ✯✯✯

• Profiles paysans: L’approche (2001, Raymond Depardon) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Dragged Across Concrete (2018, S. Craig Zahler) - ✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

Letterboxd

Oscar weekend! I’m planning on writing a piece about how this award season turned out compared to the past few, but frankly, it’s been the most satisfied I’ve been with the Oscars for a bit. Granted, I’ve always felt the Oscars were nothing more than a fun game and not something to be taken seriously as a measure of quality in the industry. Yet, there’s still at least some value in knowing that people still take interest in the movies that win and those that didn’t. After all, the history of the winners is something worth delving into. That’s informed at least a few of my watches on this time around.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

Subscribe now

#1: All About Eve (1950, Joseph L. Mankiewicz)

The Oscars were about to happen at the time I chose to rewatch this. And I figured it seemed fitting, after revisiting some great and not-so-great Best Picture winners. A film like All About Eve, though, is easily among the very best: because it’s a movie that really holds a mirror to the entertainment industry as it becomes so overtly corporate. After all, what better way to excoriate the rotten heart of this industry than with a story about climbing the social ladder, performing your way to stardom? Certain people spend countless days building their craft, and then there’s people like Eve, who put themselves in the spotlight constantly, that their own illusions become reality.

#2: The Blade (1995, Tsui Hark)

Tsui Hark is one of Hong Kong’s greatest filmmakers, and I think that The Blade is one of the greatest action movies ever made. This movie does for wuxia movies what films like McCabe & Mrs. Miller or Unforgiven have done for the western, as I’d stated in my Letterboxd review. The tale of the one-armed swordsman is one that might seem familiar if you’re someone who’s watched a lot of kung fu movies, but the frenetic pacing of these action scenes reflects a lashing against tradition. It’s all very energetic, yes, but Tsui Hark sees that as these wounds manifest into a different generation, we see that the violence only moves on into the next. And it’s all very stunning, and beautiful.

#3: The Great Silence (1968, Sergio Corbucci)

One of the great spaghetti westerns, perhaps it might even be the best one to not be directed by Sergio Leone. A movie that makes you really dig into the heart of the American west, especially when these Italian filmmakers saw something else happening in this landscape. A movie all about greed, and the countless lives upon which it takes, especially when personal gains are prioritized as people take bounties and kill each other for the rewards. At a certain point, it’s set to bite back – and we see it happening in maybe one of the bleakest climaxes to any western film in here.

#4: Inherent Vice (2014, Paul Thomas Anderson)

I ended up rewatching this on 35mm the morning of the Oscars. I certainly was not planning for Paul Thomas Anderson to win big that night, and I think that as someone who’s been watching his films since I was a teen, it made me ecstatic. Meanwhile, I think that while watching Inherent Vice, you might not find anyone who better understands the writing of Thomas Pynchon than him. He’s someone who knew how to dig right underneath the heart of America, especially within the Nixon years, to capture a lingering shame that’s ever felt today. With how Inherent Vice unfolds, it may not be easy to grasp it all just yet, but the thrill of coming back to it, is knowing that Anderson wants to capture a specific lifestyle and its excesses. It’s maybe his funniest film.

#5: Killers of the Flower Moon (2023, Martin Scorsese)

Since the day when Killers of the Flower Moon had first come out, I was fearing that this movie would never see a physical media release. Thankfully, Criterion came in with a beautiful 4K UHD release of the film, and I think this might be the best that the film has looked since I had seen it in theaters. Granted, Apple TV+ is better at handling compression compared to a service like Netflix or Disney+, but it’s simply not the same. And for a film like this, based on a crucial part of United States history that has only gone ignored, it’s important that this story is kept alive – for Martin Scorsese sees that it defines the entire country. And it’s a very shameful memory at that.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Live Stream (2023, Choi Ju-yeon) - ✯✯✯

• The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957, David Lean) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Viridiana (1961, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Rain Man (1988, Barry Levinson) - ✯✯

• Resident Evil: The Final Chapter (2016, Paul W. S. Anderson) - ✯✯✯½

Saturday

• Straw Dogs (1971, Sam Peckinpah) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Unforgiven (1992, Clint Eastwood) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• All About Eve (1950, Joseph L. Mankiewicz) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Anora (2024, Sean Baker) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Inherent Vice (2014, Paul Thomas Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• The Great Silence (1968, Sergio Corbucci) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Sea Fog (2014, Shim Sung-bo) - ✯✯✯✯

• Attenberg (2010, Athina Rachel Tsangari) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• The Blade (1995, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Vampyros Lesbos (1971, Jesús Franco) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Killers of the Flower Moon (2023, Martin Scorsese) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Sometimes I Think About Dying (2023, Rachel Lambert) - ✯✯✯½

• Shopping (1994, Paul W. S. Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯

• Andragogy (2023, Wregas Bhanuteja) - ✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Repo Man (1984, Alex Cox) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Five Easy Pieces (1970, Bob Rafelson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Songs My Brothers Taught Me (2015, Chloé Zhao) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Bodycam (2025, Brandon Christensen) - ✯½

Thursday

• Ready or Not (2019, Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett) - ✯✯✯

• Captain Blood (1935, Michael Curtiz) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Dick Tracy (1990, Warren Beatty) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Ready or Not 2: Here I Come (2026, Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett) - ✯✯✯½

• Remote Control (1988, Jeff Lieberman) - ✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

Letterboxd

Oscar fever is coming up, so you can only expect that after Sunday night, I’m also watching a lot of Best Picture winners as part of a personal research project. Unfortunately, none of these have quite made it into this selection of five that I’m highlighting, only because I decided to revisit some winners I haven’t been the fondest of. That’s okay, though. I think that the least to be said about what the Oscars, before the upcoming ceremony, is that it might become a fun night, especially if we don’t put too much stock into it.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

Subscribe now

#1: Body Double (1984, Brian De Palma)

I highlighted Brian De Palma’s Blow Out in an earlier edition of this, now I might just share my love for another one of his films while the opportunity presents itself. Body Double is the sort of movie that could only really be made by someone who’s lived their whole life in the cinema, and that’s just why I love it. As far as shameless Alfred Hitchcock riffs go, there aren’t very many out there like Body Double, where we later sense that De Palma’s telling you everything he feels about this industry of film and the inherent sleaziness underneath.

#2: Bullet Ballet (1998, Shinya Tsukamoto)

Not many filmmakers are out there like Shinya Tsukamoto. If it weren’t for Tetsuo: The Iron Man, there’s a chance this could easily be my favourite. In fact, it’s only evidence of how much more radical a filmmaker he’s become since. It might just also be the perfect response to those who view film as being nothing more than a simplistic escape: because Bullet Ballet encompasses everything going through the mind. And fittingly enough, it all plays in such an apocalyptic manner.

#3: Rio Bravo (1959, Howard Hawks)

When I was younger, I sought this movie out on the basis of it being a favourite of Quentin Tarantino. Now, I’m maybe far less enamoured by Tarantino than I was as a teen, though I won’t lie when I say his own enthusiasm introduced me to many more films that have continued shaping my perception of film. After all, Howard Hawks is just one of the great filmmakers, but maybe what makes Rio Bravo feel so satisfying is its portrait of a strong-armed community. And sure, you can see a film like this as being a response to High Noon, but what makes Rio Bravo so enduring is the way we see that this heroism spreads from one person to the next. A true good time at the movies.

#4: Viridiana (1961, Luis Buñuel)

I’ve stated already that I believe Luis Buñuel’s best period to be his Mexican era, and I consider Viridiana among the Spanish surrealist’s finest works. It’s also maybe the angriest that he’s ever felt, not just at the Franco regime, but the institutions that uphold its authoritarianism. Buñuel’s never been one to shy away what he thinks of the Catholic Church, but in how he tests his titular character’s own faith, he also tests her commitment to the virtue. Viridiana’s not a good person, but she’s trying to be. And maybe that’s where her downfall begins, especially as the people she tries to help have all been burned down by the institution which she represents.

#5: WALL-E (2008, Andrew Stanton)

Because I think I ought to remind myself of what Pixar had managed to accomplish during their peak, once upon a time. I’ve mostly fallen out of love with Pixar, perhaps starting with the inconsistency in quality of their recent works, but I’ll still watch these films in the hopes that the spark will come back. Yet, none of them might ever match what WALL-E does, at least because it represents a high mark in the studio’s lifetime. It’s a film that’s evidently more ambitious than their usual work, but as an adult, I’m perhaps taken in with how much it engages with our own role in creating this ravaged world we see here. It’s simply one of the great animated films.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Queens of the Dead (2025, Tina Romero) - ✯✯✯

• Read My Lips (2001, Jacques Audiard) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Missile (1988, Frederick Wiseman) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Bugonia (2025, Yorgos Lanthimos) - ✯✯✯½

• Cadaver (2007, Son Tae-woong) - ✯✯½

Saturday

• Bullet Ballet (1998, Shinya Tsukamoto) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Cutting Through Rocks (2025, Sara Khaki and Mohammad Reza Eyni) - ✯✯✯✯

• Rude (1995, Clement Virgo) - ✯✯✯

Sunday

• Body Double (1984, Brian De Palma) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A Perfect Murder (1998, Andrew Davis) - ✯✯✯

• Viva Verdi! (2024, Yvonne Russo) - ✯✯✯

• Rio Bravo (1959, Howard Hawks) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Boston Strangler (1968, Richard Fleischer) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Love – Zero = Infinity (1994, Hisayasu Satô) - ✯✯✯✯½

Monday

• Dr. Lamb (1992, Danny Lee and Billy Tang) - ✯✯✯

• The Way He Looks (2014, Daniel Ribeiro) - ✯✯✯✯

• Chicago (2002, Rob Marshall) - ✯✯½

• Ben-Hur (1959, William Wyler) - ✯✯✯✯

• I Am Cuba (1964, Mikhail Kalatozov) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Taxi Driver (1976, Martin Scorsese) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Hoppers (2026, Daniel Chong) - ✯✯✯✯

• Monsieur Lazhar (2011, Philippe Falardeau) - ✯✯✯½

• Viridiana (1961, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Braveheart (1995, Mel Gibson) - ✯✯½

• The Magdalene Sisters (2002, Peter Mullan) - ✯✯✯½

• Million Dollar Baby (2004, Clint Eastwood) - ✯✯✯½

• Forrest Gump (1994, Robert Zemeckis) - ½

Thursday

• I Am Not a Serial Killer (2016, Billy O’Brien) - ✯✯✯½

• WALL-E (2008, Andrew Stanton) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Patton (1970, Franklin J. Schaffner) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Artist (2011, Michel Hazanavicius) - ✯✯✯

• Kramer vs. Kramer (1979, Robert Benton) - ✯✯✯

• Crash (2004, Paul Haggis) - ½

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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This is the third month in which I’ve been unemployed. I’m doing fine, I sent some job applications to the Toronto Public Library earlier, and I’m waiting to hear back from them. At least, I hope that I do, while the job market as it is right now seems to be as bad as it is. It’s part of why my moviegoing habits might have taken a bit more of a notable pause; because commuting is quite expensive. After all, I think there’s only so much that one can see within any given time frame, so I’m writing this as a means of indicating that I have hope. Maybe it won’t come that quickly, but I know it shall come soon.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: Days and Nights in the Forest (1970, Satyajit Ray)

For years, I’ve been looking for this particular Satyajit Ray film, because I remember seeing Wes Anderson cite it as a big influence on his own work, particularly The Darjeeling Limited. And he’s willing to admit he’s shamelessly ripped off elements of this movie, particularly that memory game sequence, within his own films. After all, it’s hard to forget that memory game scene when you first see it, only because it’s a scene that says a lot about where the group of friends we’re watching come from. That’s also where Ray manages to pull off a clever form of unravelling, and it’s very funny, too.

#2: Millennium Actress (2001, Satoshi Kon)

One of my favourite animated films of all time, and maybe just one of my favourite films, period. There are some movies you watch because you know that they reaffirm what we believe to be the “magic of the movies,” and Millennium Actress is all that, and then some more. I think if it weren’t for Perfect Blue, I would be calling this Satoshi Kon’s best film, but Kon’s usage of animation has always drawn me in a way I don’t see from most animation filmmakers. It all starts with how he uses the medium to blend reality and fiction, but for a film about an aging actress and her memories, it only feels very deeply fitting.

#3: The Spook Who Sat by the Door (1973, Ivan Dixon)

Arguably one of the most politically radical films ever made. In fact, I think this film’s history, with an FBI attempt to suppress the distribution of The Spook Who Sat by the Door says it all. It’s an action movie where we’re seeing someone expose the weaknesses of a system that many United States citizens have been told to trust over the years, to form a revolution. It’s a very discomforting movie from start to finish, but that’s also how we know the incendiary nature still resonates.

#4: The Sword of Doom (1966, Kihachi Okamoto)

I was going to watch this last year so that I could continue on with paying tribute to the late, great Tatsuya Nakadai. That didn’t end up happening as planned, but this has been a film I’d been meaning to rewatch after several years of not having seen it. And the least I think I can say, is that The Sword of Doom is bleak, but watching it closely with Harakiri, it feels like an inverse. It’s an inverse in the sense that Ryunosuke Tsukue has no moral code, but just acts on impulse – for that’s the only way he can utilize his skill. In most other settings, this kind of character could be seen as a hero, but that’s also where Okamoto creates a portrait of the aftereffect of blind idolization of a national icon, like the United States does with the cowboy.

#5: The Wind Will Carry Us (1999, Abbas Kiarostami)

Abbas Kiarostami has been one of my favourite filmmakers for as long as I can remember having gotten into cinema as a teenager. And seeing The Wind Will Carry Us on 35mm, I think it’s only solidified itself in my mind as one of his greatest achievements. Perhaps that’s because Kiarostami has a certain awareness about the environments he’s capturing on screen, but also how we find ourselves relating as spectators. And in Behzad, it seems like he’s found a way to comment on his own role making these films within such communities, especially when he exists to these people as an outsider. Something that I think needs to be seen to be believed.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Oasis (2002, Lee Chang-dong) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Days and Nights in the Forest (1970, Satyajit Ray) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Sinners (2025, Ryan Coogler) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man (1976, Ruggero Deodato) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Mr. Nobody Against Putin (2025, David Borenstein) - ✯✯✯

• Sampo (1959, Aleksandr Ptushko) - ✯✯✯½

• Four Sisters (1985, Nobuhiko Obayashi) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Spook Who Sat by the Door (1973, Ivan Dixon) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Diane Warren: Relentless (2024, Bess Kargman) - ✯✯½

Sunday

• Godzilla (1954, Ishiro Honda) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Jurassic World Rebirth (2025, Gareth Edwards) - ✯✯

• Jean-Luc Godard à la Cinémathèque française (1985, Raymond Depardon) - ✯✯✯✯

• Reporters (1981, Raymond Depardon) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Sword of Doom (1966, Kihachi Okamoto) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Rabindranath Tagore (1961, Satyajit Ray) - ✯✯✯✯½

• In the Blink of an Eye (2026, Andrew Stanton) - ✯½

• Breathless (2008, Yang Ik-june) - ✯✯✯✯½

• One Battle After Another (2025, Paul Thomas Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Secret Agent (2025, Kleber Mendonça Filho) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Typhoon Club (1985, Shinji Somai) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Fires on the Plain (1959, Kon Ichikawa) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Wind Will Carry Us (1999, Abbas Kiarostami) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Hahaha (2010, Hong Sang-soo) - ✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Garlic Is as Good as Ten Mothers (1971, Les Blank) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Carnal Knowledge (1971, Mike Nichols) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Millennium Actress (2001, Satoshi Kon) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Ugetsu (1953, Kenji Mizoguchi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Re-Wind (1988, Hisayasu Satô) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Downpour (1972, Bahram Beyzaie) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Lessons of Darkness (1992, Werner Herzog) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Farewell My Concubine (1993, Chen Kaige) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Sentimental Value (2025, Joachim Trier) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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As February comes to an end, I’m still on the hunt for employment. So you might notice that while my viewing habits have mostly been based around theatrical screenings within Toronto, a halt will be evident. I’m not going to stop going into the city, but until my job hunt brings me towards something positive, I can’t guarantee that I’ll always be providing at the rate that I want. Nonetheless, to those of you who have supported me for a long time, I’ll say it once again: thank you.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: Blow Out (1981, Brian De Palma)

One of my most-watched movies, ever. So naturally, a theatrical screening of Blow Out on 35mm was something on my bucket list. And that dream of mine has finally been realized, because sometimes seeing a movie you love dearly on theaters brings everything back as if you’re seeing the film for your first time. For me, Blow Out embodies exactly what it is I love about film. Brian De Palma took the core fundamentals from his own favourites, but soon transformed it into something of his own weapon. It’s all felt from the ways that he blends together elements of Antonioni’s Blow-up and Coppola’s The Conversation, but ultimately, how De Palma sees what working in film can make oneself realize. Travolta hasn’t been any better than he is in here, as a perfect self-insert for De Palma himself.

#2: City Hall (2020, Frederick Wiseman)

Earlier this month, we lost the great Frederick Wiseman. Despite his age, it inevitably felt like a tragic loss, only because he was never exactly a filmmaker who was going to stop so easily. After all, Wiseman’s films function in a way that you don’t see from most other documentary filmmakers: he’s someone placing the camera at level with the very people his films are about. No talking heads, no narration, no music: he lets everything speak for itself. With City Hall being his second longest feature (behind Near Death), it feels appropriate that this is a film all about the community that builds up Boston, and the very people keeping it together. It also feels particularly eye-opening, perhaps seeing this level of life right before the COVID-19 pandemic hit.

#3: Illustrious Corpses (1976, Francesco Rosi)

This is maybe the most I’ve found myself getting into any of Francesco Rosi’s works, only because Rosi’s a filmmaker whose interests lie within the foundations of an authoritarian regime. This film may be a detective story, but Illustrious Corpses hints at a more frightening rise to power. The kind that we’re seeing that furthers authoritarianism, but also concedes a weakness to the billionaire class who believe that they have the power to buy out elections, and even influence over the working class. And the more time we spend with it, the more we understand how this rise works, so that any sensible opposition is undermined. A film that perhaps could not feel any timelier than now.

#4: Los Olvidados (1950, Luis Buñuel)

Through the month of February, TIFF hosted a retrospective centering around the films of Luis Buñuel. Naturally, this was not something I was going to pass up, because Buñuel has been one of my favourite filmmakers for a very long time. That said, given that this retrospective had primarily centered the surrealist filmmaker’s Mexican period, I only felt firmer in my belief that this period was Buñuel at his best. As such, my favourite film of Buñuel’s is none other than Los Olvidados, a social realist drama where the surrealism alleviates the overall feeling of hopelessness. It’s perhaps the film that best represents what we see Buñuel as an artist stands for, and for my money, it is his best film.

#5: Shanghai Blues (1984, Tsui Hark)

I remember when this film was simply on YouTube, because it hadn’t been made more widely available within North America for a while. With a new restoration, I think that it only fits to say that Shanghai Blues is one of the great Hong Kong comedies: perhaps it would even be my favourite of Tsui Hark’s movies if not for Peking Opera Blues. That said, there’s one scene in the original version of Shanghai Blues that I had remembered for being so unnecessary and offensive. It has been removed from this version of the film, and I think that it is made all the better for it. With how much is going on in here, perhaps some things don’t fly well today, but the very fact that it all exists within this form is monumental.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Original Gangstas (1996, Larry Cohen) - ✯✯✯½

• Boxcar Bertha (1972, Martin Scorsese) - ✯✯✯½

• Los Olvidados (1950, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Blow Out (1981, Brian De Palma) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

Saturday

• Network (1976, Sidney Lumet) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• L’Âge d’or (1930, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Bone (1972, Larry Cohen) - ✯✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

• Kiss of the Spider Woman (1985, Héctor Babenco) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Warning from Space (1956, Shima Koji) - ✯✯✯½

• The Exterminating Angel (1962, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Jimmy (2024, Yashaddai Owens) - ✯✯✯½

• Shanghai Blues (1984, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Perfect Stranger (2007, James Foley) - ✯✯

• At Berkeley (2013, Frederick Wiseman) - ✯✯✯✯

• Illustrious Corpses (1976, Francesco Rosi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Truman Show (1998, Peter Weir) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Wrecking Crew (2026, Ángel Manuel Soto) - ✯✯½

Tuesday

• The Searchers (1956, John Ford) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Pillion (2025, Harry Lighton) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Blind (1986, Frederick Wiseman) - ✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Lucio Flavio (1977, Héctor Babenco) - ✯✯✯✯½

• City Hall (2020, Frederick Wiseman) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Zootopia 2 (2025, Jared Bush and Byron Howard) - ✯✯½

• Arco (2025, Ugo Bienvenu) - ✯✯✯

Thursday

• Birth (2004, Jonathan Glazer) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Misconceived (2026, James N. Kienitz Wilkins) - ✯✯✯

• Swordsman (1990, King Hu, Tsui Hark, Tony Ching, Raymond Lee) - ✯✯✯½

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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This post was republished due to an error in the original post.

Lunar New Year is upon us, so I thought it was more appropriate to curate my viewing habits accordingly. With Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights out of the way, I’ve also seen my seventh cinematic rendition of the Emily Brontë story, and I don’t think we’ll ever see any filmmaker get it “right.” TIFF’s retrospective dedicated to Luis Buñuel continues, so I’ll be watching more of those films within the coming days, as expected – these are just a few things on the back of my head. Frankly, I could just as easily remind all of you, especially if you’re reading this from Canada, to go support our own cinema by watching Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie. Then again, pay attention to this newsletter, for a piece about the original series is set for the future.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: Belle de Jour (1967, Luis Buñuel)

This film was my introduction to Catherine Deneuve when I was younger. I think that’s enough for anyone to get the impression that it’s something that stuck with me for a while, but it’s also a film I remembered having called my favourite of Luis Buñuel’s impressive filmography at one point. Nowadays, I think I’ve come to prefer his Mexican period (or really, his Spanish-language films in general), but Belle de Jour remains a film that I hold in high regard. It all stems from how Buñuel taps into the existing sexual frustrations existing within a person’s mind, regardless of their position in life. After all, with all the fabulous Yves Saint Laurent dresses that Catherine Deneuve is wearing here, it might seem like she has it all. Buñuel, knowing his distaste for the bourgeoisie, suggests otherwise, in this surrealist erotic fantasy.

#2: Body Heat (1981, Lawrence Kasdan)

Criterion just announced a 4K UHD disc for this movie for May of this year, which I hadn’t seen since my high school days. To say the least, it holds up: and it’s still Lawrence Kasdan’s best film as a director. I don’t think you can easily top something like this if it was your first feature, but Body Heat delivers well enough on the grounds that it’s a truly steamy movie. After all, who doesn’t already feel it getting to them with the sight of a young Kathleen Turner on the screen? Everything about this movie is magnificent, from the way that it adapts the cinematic language of classic film noir into a contemporaneous setting, but also utilizes the same tricks to reach a certain sensibility existing within the audience. It all starts with the way we see the sweat dripping off Hurt and Turner’s nude bodies, but even how they’re filmed – then again, Kasdan knows how these tricks of the cinematic language get to us at our weak spots.

#3: Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie (2025, Matt Johnson)

Everyone keeps asking “How did this get made?” when talking about Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie. It feels very fitting, because Matt Johnson is not one to let down on the promise of delivering a silly comedy all about two people trying to play the Rivoli, in which time travel is suddenly involved. It’s outrageous, but I think you can’t take this kind of movie for granted either, because it represents what happens when some filmmakers set out to make something that can’t easily be replicated. And all of this is funded with our tax dollars here in Canada. I think things would be better off if our tax money had funded movies like this, instead of genocide, like what’s happening in Gaza right now.

#4: The Red Spectacles (1987, Mamoru Oshii)

Feel like this movie is best described as something you have to see in order to believe, given that it’s Mamoru Oshii letting his own sensibilities fly out as much as he can in a live-action setting. And yet, it’s also a very politically conscious work: one that breaks down the roots of authoritarian ruling by deconstructing how we perceive people on the ruling force to behave. Everything about it is perfectly stated with the first few minutes, supposedly resembling a cyberpunk action film for which Oshii has become most renowned in the west, with films like Ghost in the Shell. The rest of the film is an absurdist comedy; one where we’re left to imagine how those who work for the ruling class are to be undone. Oshii’s as much a stylist as Seijun Suzuki, where the absurdist tendencies help paint a picture of the making of the pawns for a fascist government. Timely.

#5: Shaolin Soccer (2001, Stephen Chow)

This is simultaneously the dumbest and smartest comedy ever made. Stephen Chow hits that perfect mix between the two in both this film and in Kung Fu Hustle, but I also never realized that the version which I’d been used to watching in high school was severely cut. It only made sense: Shaolin Soccer was distributed by Miramax Films, then run by Harvey Weinstein, who took free rein in making the film more “marketable.” Now that I’ve seen this film in its full glory, I like to think that it may just be one of the best comedies of the 21st century. Plus, I don’t think you could ask for anything better than the experience of seeing this kind of movie in a sold-out screening.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Four of the Apocalypse (1975, Lucio Fulci) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Wuthering Heights (1970, Robert Fuest) - ✯✯

• The Red Spectacles (1987, Mamoru Oshii) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Body Heat (1981, Lawrence Kasdan) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• The Phantom of Liberty (1974, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Woman Is the Future of Man (2004, Hong Sang-soo) - ✯✯✯✯

• Belle de Jour (1967, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004, Michel Gondry) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Hapkido (1972, Huang Feng) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Raise the Red Lantern (1991, Zhang Yimou) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Devil Is a Woman (1935, Josef von Sternberg) - ✯✯✯✯½

• That Obscure Object of Desire (1977, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Deep Cover (1992, Bill Duke) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Petey Wheatstraw (1977, Cliff Roquemore) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Last Emperor (1987, Bernardo Bertolucci) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Come See Me in the Good Light (2025, Ryan White) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Rules of the Game (1939, Jean Renoir) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Wuthering Heights (2026, Emerald Fennell) - ✯½

• Diary of a Chambermaid (1964, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Hard Boiled (1992, John Woo) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• All the President’s Men (1976, Alan J. Pakula) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Él (1953, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Domestic Violence (2001, Frederick Wiseman) - ✯✯✯✯½

Thursday

• Edmond (2005, Stuart Gordon) - ✯✯✯

• Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie (2025, Matt Johnson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Shaolin Soccer (2001, Stephen Chow) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Lenny (1974, Bob Fosse) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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Valentine’s Day is coming, so of course the mood is right for more Wong Kar-wai. After all, who else captures that sense of yearning quite like he does? After all, this is the month when romantic thoughts might be what permeate the mind, even though it’s also Black History Month, so I’m trying to find ways to curate my viewing habits accordingly. I’m not planning any Friday the 13th stuff for now because I think that this might be the worst time for such while I’m already experienced the perfect hit of bad luck: I’m unemployed.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: Blue Heron (2025, Sophy Romvari)

This was the weekend when TIFF held Canada’s Top Ten screenings: so I thought it was a perfect opportunity to revisit my good friend Sophy Romvari’s own Blue Heron before its theatrical release here. I know I’ll already come into this with at least some bias factoring in, but I truly do believe that what Sophy is doing here is something special. It feels special, at least in the sense that you’re watching a movie all about how we compartmentalize with tragedies we witness, but never understood. And ultimately, what’s the role that art has in helping us reconcile with it.

#2: Chilly Scenes of Winter (1979, Joan Micklin Silver)

Here’s the perfect anti-romance of sorts if you ever needed it. I first saw Chilly Scenes of Winter at a retrospective celebrating the work of Joan Micklin Silver, and I remember thinking at the time that this film was set to become an instant favourite. It was a film that I quickly fell in love with, because of how it broke down the ways that people feel entitled to romance, to the point of turning into something more destructive. Mostly very funny, but for that same reason, it’s also frightening!

#3: Chungking Express (1994, Wong Kar-wai)

All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray. I think that’s all you need to know about Chungking Express before heading in because that’s a song that perfectly captures the sense of longing we feel when we’re doing day-to-day work. When I first saw this movie in high school, I remember being so taken aback by this particular facet about it, as if I remember harbouring those feelings of love without knowing how to express them. Watching the film as an adult, I feel like I understand that part of myself better. And I still can’t stop playing that song to myself.

#4: PlayTime (1967, Jacques Tati)

As perfect a comedy as I think they’ll ever get. Though, I think what might catch anyone else about PlayTime is the fact that every minute of it feels so perfectly constructed: whether it be the production design, or the way it captures our world against rapidly advancing technology. There’s a sense of poignancy coming forth, however, when watched today as many big tech corporations push forth the rise of artificial intelligence. Everything moves by so fast, a well-meaning soul like Monsieur Hulot just wouldn’t be able to catch up because that’s what makes him a perfect vessel into this world.

#5: Wuthering Heights (1988, Yoshishige Yoshida)

I’ve already watched six adaptations of Wuthering Heights as of the day this is being written. With the Emerald Fennell version having just released, I will be making that seven on Tuesday. However, with all the best film adaptations of Emily Brontë’s book taking obvious liberties with the text, I was particularly struck by what Yoshishige Yoshida had done, with adapting it as a ghost story. That’s where his take somehow, may be the most faithful version I’ve seen thus far, especially when it comes to the portrait of doomed, forbidden love. Every minute of this take is as beautiful as it is destructive, and it’s just how I envision Brontë’s writing coming alive, considering how difficult a text it is to adapt.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• The Crush (1993, Alan Shapiro) - ✯✯

• The Princess Bride (1987, Rob Reiner) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• At the Place of Ghosts (2025, Bretten Hannam) - ✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• It Was Just an Accident (2025, Jafar Panahi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie (2025, Matt Johnson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Tuner (2025, Daniel Roher) - ✯✯✯✯

• Follies (2025, Éric K. Boulliane) - ✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Behind Convent Walls (1978, Walerian Borowczyk) - ✯✯✯✯

• Chungking Express (1994, Wong Kar-wai) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Space Cadet (2025, Kid Koala) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Blue Heron (2025, Sophy Romvari) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Things You Kill (2025, Alireza Khatami) - ✯✯✯✯

• Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song (1971, Melvin Van Peebles) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Love (2024, Dag Johan Haugerud) - ✯✯✯✯

• Kokuho (2025, Sang-il Lee) - ✯✯✯½

• The Old Oak (2023, Ken Loach) - ✯✯✯½

• Will (1981, Jessie Maple) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Dam Busters (1955, Michael Anderson) - ✯✯✯

Tuesday

• The Final Master (2015, Xu Haofeng) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Clueless (1995, Amy Heckerling) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Moment (2026, Aidan Zamiri) - ✯✯✯½

• Learn to Swim (2021, Thyrone Tommy) - ✯✯✯½

• PlayTime (1967, Jacques Tati) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Chilly Scenes of Winter (1979, Joan Micklin Silver) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Say Amen, Somebody (1982, George T. Nierenberg) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Malcolm X (1992, Spike Lee) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Wuthering Heights (1988, Yoshishige Yoshida) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Solomon King (1974, Jack Bomay and Sal Watts) - ✯✯✯½

Thursday

• Scream (1996, Wes Craven) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Wings of Desire (1988, Wim Wenders) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Wuthering Heights (1954, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• A New Leaf (1971, Elaine May) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real-time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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We’re back to productivity, at least I hope for the next while or so. I’m thinking that within the next days or so, I’m about to course correct the fact I haven’t been able to write as much. These periods are common, but I think they’ve strained my ability more than anything. It doesn’t help that I’m also job hunting once again, so my means of income has been significantly reduced for now. Painful, but I’m hoping to get over it, especially if it means some great cinema like what I’ve got here keeps me motivated to continue on.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: Clueless (1995, Amy Heckerling)

Clueless is not just “a chick flick.” At least, I’ve never thought it was just that. Perhaps that’s because it’s always seemed to me that Amy Heckerling was not interested in only capturing that one phase of a person’s life. The fact that she adapted Jane Austen’s Emma into this form is only one among many places where Clueless feels miraculous. It’s a very witty comedy, one that takes down the shallow materialism of the valley girl stereotype that Alicia Silverstone embodies perfectly. Yet, it’s also done with such love for Cher Horowitz that you can’t help but root for her as she comes to the realization that vain popularity will only alienate her from the people she loves most.

#2: Edvard Munch (1974, Peter Watkins)

I’ve long held this belief that the biopic can be a lazy formula, especially when said films continue dominating award season every year. Edvard Munch is the opposite: for Peter Watkins is making a movie about the renowned painter, but it’s also one that observes how someone like him existed within that realm. He’s making a movie that’s as much about the tragedies Munch witnessed in his life, but also how they relate to the artwork for which he has become revered by many today. This isn’t a portrait of a misunderstood artist; because Munch was already a well-understood artist. Rather, the kind of movie that Peter Watkins has made is one about how people react to art that they’re not ready for. This film appropriately embodies that.

#3: Ms .45 (1981, Abel Ferrara)

I think all you need to see is the image of Zoë Lund dressed up as a nun to get a perfect idea for what kind of movie you’re in for with Ms .45. Being my first time seeing the movie since 2016, I remembered that this was the film I’d considered my favourite of Abel Ferrara’s at that point. It’s still excellent, but perhaps when watching this movie compared to many other rape-and-revenge thrillers of the day, it’s among the saddest. It’s a sad movie because you’re seeing the image of a woman who was robbed of everything, rendering her dead inside. Zoë Lund is a magnificent angel of death, seeking vengeance upon those who have wronged her. And while watching Ms .45, you can’t help but find yourself embracing its own spell, especially as she’s doing everything to reclaim what’s forever lost. That’s where it really gets you, for by the end of the movie you’ll just feel dirty on the inside, which is among Ferrara’s great trademarks.

#4: The Wiz (1978, Sidney Lumet)

This movie is one that really shouldn’t work. Given the film’s reputation upon release, it was surprising to me to see that this was set to receive a 4K UHD release from the Criterion Collection. With this being my first time having seen The Wiz in over a decade, I think I let myself surrender to it. Sidney Lumet’s theatricality is something that helps here, especially when it comes to directing the musical sequences, but every minute of The Wiz truly feels expressive in ways I think I’d have overlooked all these years. And it’s just all-around delightful! The music is excellent, as one would expect, but it feels appropriately like it had come from the theater. Compared to Jon M. Chu’s Wicked, it feels like this movie evidently understands The Wizard of Oz better.

#5: Wuthering Heights (1939, William Wyler)

For what it’s worth, Wuthering Heights is one of my favourite books. I don’t think any of its adaptations can truly match up to the brilliance of Emily Brontë’s words. Given the reputation the source material carries, it’s no surprise that it’s also a novel that gets failed in some way or another – even this one does exactly that, with the casting of Laurence Olivier as Heathcliff, a character written to be of mixed-race descent. Nonetheless, Wyler’s take on Brontë’s novel remains the most invigorating to me, not just because it boasts some of the most beautiful black-and-white photography I’ve ever seen, but it’s also the one that feels like it’s created a haunted atmosphere all around. Perfect, not just for one of the essential Gothic texts, but for a tragedy as esteemed as Wuthering Heights.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Uncle Sam (1996, William Lustig) - ✯✯✯

• Sorcerer (1977, William Friedkin) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Skin Deep (1989, Blake Edwards) - ✯✯✯

• After Hours (1985, Martin Scorsese) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• The Thing (1982, John Carpenter) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Red Heat (1988, Walter Hill) - ✯✯✯½

• Edvard Munch (1974, Peter Watkins) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Viridiana (1961, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Mother of Flies (2025, John Adams, Zelda Adams, Toby Poser) - ✯✯✯½

• Peter Hujar’s Day (2025, Ira Sachs) - ✯✯✯✯

• Send Help (2026, Sam Raimi) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Wiz (1978, Sidney Lumet) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• House Party (1990, Reginald Hudlin) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• J.D.’s Revenge (1976, Arthur Marks) - ✯✯✯½

• Wuthering Heights (1939, William Wyler) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Valley Girl (1983, Martha Coolidge) - ✯✯✯✯

• SLC Punk! (1998, James Merendino) - ✯✯✯½

• Heat (1995, Michael Mann) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Maniac Cop 2 (1990, William Lustig) - ✯✯½

• The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014, Wes Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Return to Silent Hill (2026, Christophe Gans) - ✯

• I Am Cuba (1964, Mikhail Kalatozov) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Pay the Ghost (2015, Uli Edel) - ✯✯

Wednesday

• Body of Evidence (1993, Uli Edel) - ✯✯½

• Wuthering Heights (2011, Andrea Arnold) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Moment of Truth (1965, Francesco Rosi) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966, Sergio Leone) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Devil’s Rain (1975, Robert Fuest) - ✯✯✯

Thursday

• Ms .45 (1981, Abel Ferrara) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• In the Mood for Love (2000, Wong Kar-wai) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Wrong Husband (2025, Zacharias Kunuk) - ✯✯✯✯

• Clueless (1995, Amy Heckerling) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

Letterboxd

This is a cruel month. We had a truly aggressive snowstorm this weekend which prevented me from attending planned screenings of Ju Dou and JFK in Toronto, with the latter one being on 35mm too. On top of it all, if you saw the news from earlier today, Canada lost a true living legend: the great Catherine O’Hara. So of course, I took the whole day collecting everything I was going to write here, because I was still in such shock I didn’t even dare move from my bed for a long while. Alas, it can’t stop me from sharing great cinema, so here we go.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

Subscribe now

#1: 100 Yen Love (2014, Masaharu Take)

This is one movie that’s been on my radar for quite some time, only because Sakura Ando is one of my favourite actresses in recent Japanese cinema. And it may even be some of her best work, at least together with her role in her own sister’s film 0.5mm. But it’s hard not to be caught by the sort of presence that she carries here in 100 Yen Love, not just because she’s a lovable slacker. Instead, she’s embodying the sort of person that wants to change up their own ways, even if it’s putting them in such a physically demanding endeavour quite like boxing. And it’s also about the feeling of winning, but being a loser.

#2: Birth (2004, Jonathan Glazer)

Together with her role in To Die For, I think that Birth might be Nicole Kidman’s best performance. It all comes from the fact that Kidman is brought down to a point of irrationality driven by grieving, but Glazer’s also emphasizing that her emotions are what carries this film from start to finish. In my eyes, this is Jonathan Glazer’s very best movie, perhaps because it’s where his artistry really started to become evident. As with his two later films, the excellent Under the Skin and The Zone of Interest, Birth encompasses the altered perception of a person transformed by something that haunts them: creating a ghost story unlike any other.

#3: Daughters, Wives and a Mother (1960, Mikio Naruse)

Mikio Naruse’s retrospective at TIFF has finally come to a close. This was one of the last films screened as such, but I think that this might also be among his very best works. It’s among his best, for it shows you everything that people want for those whom they love, even if economic realities make that into an impossibility. And it’s hard not to be taken in with the fact that you’re seeing some of his best players all coming together: Hideko Takamine, Setsuko Hara, Masayuki Mori, Ken Uehara, and Tatsuya Nakadai among many other greats.

#4: The Fall of Otrar (1991, Ardak Amirkulov)

This is a film that I’ve been meaning to watch for a long time. Even before it was made more widely accessible thanks to a restoration effort led by Martin Scorsese as part of the World Cinema Project, I’ve had it on my computer because I knew exactly where to look. Though with this new restoration being made available, I couldn’t think of a better way to experience it for the first time. One of the most beautiful epics ever made, because it shows you the beauty and ugliness that humanity is capable of committing in one place. Something that may even fele more relevant today, not just in its unflinching portrait of colonialism, but the rise of authoritarianism in a world that’s long-suffering.

#5: Yi Yi (2000, Edward Yang)

I love everything about this movie. Besides being one of my most-watched movies in my high school years, Criterion has done an immaculate job restoring this masterpiece by Edward Yang into beautiful 4K UHD. I think that this is one of those movies I like to show people to really get a good idea of what life is truly like, in all its joys and sorrows; but also how they define what we see in everything happening around us. That this is Edward Yang’s final film perhaps only makes this all more haunting, because it might be the best cinematic swan song ever made, along with works like Eyes Wide Shut or Once Upon a Time in America.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Else (2024, Thibault Emin) - ✯✯

• The Alabama Solution (2025, Andrew Jarecki and Charlotte Kaufman) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Darling (1965, John Schlesinger) - ✯✯✯½

• Yi Yi (2000, Edward Yang) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Captain Blood (1935, Michael Curtiz) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Dead (1987, John Huston) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Queen Kelly (1932, Erich von Stroheim) - ✯✯✯✯

• Daughters, Wives and a Mother (1960, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• No One Lives (2012, Ryuhei Kitamura) - ✯✯✯

Sunday

• Maniac (1980, William Lustig) - ✯✯✯✯

• Run Lola Run (1998, Tom Tykwer) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A Brother and 7 Siblings (2024, Yandy Laurens) - ✯✯✯✯

• 100 Yen Love (2014, Masaharu Take) - ✯✯✯✯½

• La Grande Bouffe (1973, Marco Ferreri) - ✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Miroirs No. 3 (2025, Christian Petzold) - ✯✯✯✯

• Song Sung Blue (2025, Craig Brewer) - ✯✯½

• JFK (1991, Oliver Stone) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Ghost in the Shell 2.0 (2008, Mamoru Oshii) - ✯✯✯

• Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands (1976, Bruno Barreto) - ✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Silent Hill (2006, Christophe Gans) - ✯✯✯½

• Illusion Travels by Streetcar (1954, Luis Buñuel) - ✯✯✯✯

• Barry Lyndon (1975, Stanley Kubrick) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Silent Hill: Revelation (2012, M. J. Bassett) - ½

• Lionheart (1990, Sheldon Lettich) - ✯✯✯½

Wednesday

• Vigilante (1982, William Lustig) - ✯✯✯✯

• Vertigo (1957, Alfred Hitchcock) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Untamed Woman (1957, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

• Birth (2004, Jonathan Glazer) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• The Fall of Otrar (1991, Ardak Amirkulov) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Kiss of the Spider Woman (1985, Héctor Babenco) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Sparrow in the Chimney (2024, Ramon Zürcher) - ✯✯✯½

• City of the Living Dead (1980, Lucio Fulci) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

Letterboxd

I have a lot of things to say about this year’s Oscar nominations that are coming up on Cinema from the Spectrum within the next week. The least that I can say right now: I think we might have had one of the strongest Best Picture lineups in a while. Even though there’s one pretty egregious snub in my eyes (Jafar Panahi’s It Was Just an Accident), I have very little complaints about the slate. I certainly was not prepared for Sinners to shatter the record. I’ll be writing more at Cinema from the Spectrum in the coming days, remember to follow there!

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: Ghost in the Shell (1995, Mamoru Oshii)

A defining movie from my teenage years. I think that Ghost in the Shell and Akira have both opened my eyes when it came to witnessing anime outside the likes of Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata, but was vital to how I perceived animation entirely. On one hand, it’s got some of the most stunning action scenes that anyone could ever want from a film, but Oshii’s not one to stop there: it’s a movie that leaves us in a spot where we reconcile with our own identity, and how we function in a society that renders people into a military machine. For that alone, it’s just remarkable in every sense of the word, I always find myself needing to sit with it after finishing.

#2: The Iron Giant (1999, Brad Bird)

One of the best animated films ever made. And I think that this movie might just as well be Brad Bird’s very best at that, considering how it takes down American paranoia at the height of the Cold War. Something I just don’t think many American animated films for children have come close to replicating, and it’s also a massive shame that Bird was done dirty for this movie at the time of its initial release too. Seeing this on 35mm was a delight, but I also don’t know if I can imagine anyone listening to the Iron Giant himself saying “Superman” without at least tearing up.

#3: Married to the Mob (1988, Jonathan Demme)

Slapstick comedy by way of the great Jonathan Demme, before he went on to have us cowering in fear at the hands of Hannibal Lecter. Married to the Mob belongs on every list of the great comedies of the 1980s. Everyone here is at the top of their game, and I think this movie is also home to Michelle Pfeiffer’s very best performance. And it also makes a great argument for cops and criminals not being too different from one another, despite the enterprise.

#4: The Naked Island (1960, Kaneto Shindo)

There’s not much one can write about regarding the beauty of The Naked Island that hasn’t already been stated by many other writers. Though I think I can only repeat the crux of it all: there’s no dialogue, but it’s also where Kaneto Shindo realizes the potential of film as a visual medium. And these visuals of feudal Japan and a family simply trying to survive despite circumstances would be all that you need: then that’s how The Naked Island becomes one of the most captivating movies ever made.

#5: Rear Window (1954, Alfred Hitchcock)

For what it’s worth, Rear Window was my last movie in theaters before the height of the COVID-19 pandemic hit and shut down theaters across Ontario. I think this might have been a very fitting final film before everything went down the drain, because Rear Window captures a certain low brought forth from being isolated from the world around us. In fact, Hitchcock might have been onto something when he was building a thriller off the idea of voyeurism, given the urges that exist within ourselves. It’s all uncontrollable, but Hitchcock knew that it’s where one makes the perfect thriller.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976, Clint Eastwood) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Peking Opera Blues (1986, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Naked Island (1960, Kaneto Shindo) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Nome (2023, Sana Na N’Hada) - ✯✯✯✯

• Married to the Mob (1988, Jonathan Demme) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Witchfinder General (1968, Michael Reeves) - ✯✯✯½

• Withnail & I (1987, Bruce Robinson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• All You Need Is Kill (2025, Kenichiro Akimoto) - ✯✯

• Mimosas (2016, Oliver Laxe) - ✯✯✯✯

• Harakiri (1962, Masaki Kobayashi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• The Siege at Thorn High (2025, Joko Anwar) - ✯✯✯

• The Rip (2026, Joe Carnahan) - ✯✯✯

• The Sky Trembles and the Earth is Afraid and the Two Eyes Are Not Brothers (2015, Ben Rivers) - ✯✯½

• The Thin Line (1966, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Uma Musume: Pretty Derby - Road to the Top (2024, Liao Chengzhi) - ✯✯✯

• Umamusume: Pretty Derby - Beginning of a New Era (2024, Ken Yamamoto) - ✯✯✯✯

Monday

• The Fake Ghost Catchers (1982, Lau Kar-wing) - ✯✯✯

• Winchester ‘73 (1950, Anthony Mann) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Rear Window (1954, Alfred Hitchcock) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Poetic Justice (1993, John Singleton) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Psycho (1960, Alfred Hitchcock) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985, Tim Burton) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Testament of Ann Lee (2025, Mona Fastvold) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 70mm

• House Party (1990, Reginald Hudlin) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• The 6th Day (2000, Roger Spottiswoode) - ✯✯✯

• North by Northwest (1959, Alfred Hitchcock) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Iron Giant (1999, Brad Bird) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (1992, David Lynch) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Ghost in the Shell (1995, Mamoru Oshii) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Older Brother, Younger Sister (1953, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie (2012, Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim) - ✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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Not exactly one of my busiest weeks. I think there’s only so much that I can do while I’m still job hunting, but the fact this all happened so soon after the release of Park Chan-wook’s brilliant No Other Choice is what gets me most. Because the life that Lee Byung-hun leads in there is not something that I’d thought I’d see for a while (at least, minus the murdering of other applicants). Still, I think as long as there’s great cinema, I have a reason to have hope in this world, right?

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: The Connection (1961, Shirley Clarke)

I first saw this movie maybe around eight years ago, and I don’t think I fully had a grasp of what it was that I was watching. Now, I find myself stunned by the sort of craft that Shirley Clarke puts on display: one that feels directly confrontational without removing its theatrical roots. And it’s all very disorienting, to the point you would never have guessed something like this originated on the stage. Just absolutely wonderful.

#2: Dirty Harry (1971, Don Siegel)

A dangerous movie? Sure, that might be the first thing you can say to describe a movie like Dirty Harry. Yet it’s no less entertaining an action piece as one would hope for it to be, especially given what Harry Callahan represents within the police force in the United States. I don’t know how much I buy into the idea that Dirty Harry itself is a movie with fascist tendencies, but that is what makes its titular antihero all the more alluring: it’s a film all about how that loss of faith in the justice system would boil to something more violent over time.

#3: Fire Will Come (2019, Oliver Laxe)

I first came into contact with Oliver Laxe through his most recent film, Sirāt (which is excellent). Then I think after watching Fire Will Come, I found myself ready to embrace Laxe for his meditative portraits of life unfolding in relation to nature, all to suppress a violent tendency underneath. And those fire scenes are truly something to behold. Just some of the most beautiful images that I think the screen could ever provide.

#4: The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976, Clint Eastwood)

Considering Clint Eastwood’s own politics, I still find this movie particularly fascinating, especially with the origins of its novel. Given that The Outlaw Josey Wales’s source material was written by none other than Asa Earl Carter, the fact that Eastwood brought something all about community banding together against an unjust system is mind-blowing to me. Yet these contradictions have always been integral towards how Eastwood saw the United States in his work, and nonetheless, it’s one of the best westerns ever made.

#5: Satantango (1994, Béla Tarr)

Seven hours long; with two breaks. I figured that this revisit of Satantango would be inevitable after Béla Tarr’s passing, even if I knew that I would be spending a little over seven hours with it. Yet it’s the most hypnotic seven hours you can imagine possible, especially when Tarr’s work is built on some of the most beautiful long takes in cinema history. And they aren’t just long takes that imply an artist wanting to show off: they’re long takes that hint at how an artist wants his audience to witness the manners that the world crumbles down.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Marry My Dead Body (2022, Cheng Wei-hao) - ✯✯✯½

• Under the Hanging Tree (2023, Perivi Katjavivi) - ✯✯✯½

• Photocopier (2021, Wregas Bhanuteja) - ✯✯½

Saturday

• Grave Torture (2024, Joko Anwar) - ✯✯✯

• Jean de Florette (1986, Claude Berri) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Father Mother Sister Brother (2025, Jim Jarmusch) - ✯✯✯

• Hideko the Bus Conductress (1941, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• The Whole Family Works (1939, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯½, watched on 35mm

• The Killer Elite (1975, Sam Peckinpah) - ✯✯✯½

Sunday

• Maniac Cop (1988, William Lustig) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Plot Against Harry (1971, Michael Roemer) - ✯✯✯✯

• Manon of the Spring (1986, Claude Berri) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Our Land, Our Freedom (2023, Meena Nanji and Zippy Kimundu) - ✯✯✯✯

• Sudden Rain (1956, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

• Bullet in the Head (1990, John Woo) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Conan the Barbarian (1982, John Milius) - ✯✯✯½

• Satantango (1994, Béla Tarr) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Eyes Wide Shut (1999, Stanley Kubrick) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976, Clint Eastwood) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Heartbreak Ridge (1986, Clint Eastwood) - ✯✯✯

• Young Detective Dee: Rise of the Sea Dragon (2013, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯½

Wednesday

• The Connection (1961, Shirley Clarke) - ✯✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

• The Hurt Locker (2008, Kathryn Bigelow) - ✯✯✯

Thursday

• Dream Demon (1988, Harley Cokeliss) - ✯✯✯½

• Dirty Harry (1971, Don Siegel) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• You All Are Captains (2010, Oliver Laxe) - ✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Fire Will Come (2019, Oliver Laxe) - ✯✯✯✯½

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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With how last year started with us losing the great David Lynch, it just so happened we lost yet another one of cinema’s true titans in the great Béla Tarr. I’ve shared this on social media already, but I have a memory of having been inside a room together with Béla Tarr from my first year at TIFF as a member of the press. It was a surreal experience, given that Tarr has always been a filmmaker whom I had nothing but great admiration for all my life. He had played a vital part in shaping how I had perceived cinema, let alone what it was capable of. And to say we lost a giant is an understatement, we lost someone who really redefined cinema as we know it.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: An Aria on Gazes (1992, Hisayasu Satô)

There’s a cameo from none other than Issei Sagawa in this film, and I firmly can say that’s one moment that absolutely should not have happened. Yet, there’s no denying that Hisayasu Satô is someone who knows how to tap into the most uncomfortable bones in your body with his pioneering of pinku cinema. But that’s also why I find Satô so fascinating, because he knows that he’s a filmmaker who could easily be classified as being a porno filmmaker. Instead, he’s tapping into another sensibility that really allows us to engage with what we believe is stimulating, and it’s truly something else.

#2: The Asthenic Syndrome (1989, Kira Muratova)

In under a week, I’d already found a new favourite discovery of the year. Kira Muratova has been a filmmaker I’d wanted to explore for a very long time, but The Asthenic Syndrome might be the push that I need. I remember thinking to myself that every minute of this film was about to be very exhausting, but there’s a reveal midway through that only made me realize what Muratova had up her sleeve. And it’s a brilliant reveal at that, because it encapsulates a mindset of an entire population at the fall of the Soviet Union. A masterpiece, maybe.

#3: Dead Man (1995, Jim Jarmusch)

Jim Jarmusch is one of my favourite filmmakers, and Dead Man is one of my favourites in his impenetrable body of work. I say that because it’s a movie with the aesthetic of a classic western, but deconstructing that colonialist narrative they have perpetuated on the screen through its history. It’s the best Depp film in my eyes at least, but he’s perfectly cast as someone who has naively believed in these histories despite an entire account from Native Americans who know the truth. This film is one that belongs to Gary Farmer, in my eyes.

#4: Three Colors: Red (1994, Krzysztof Kieślowski)

Of the three films that comprise Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Three Colors trilogy, this one is my favourite. It’s my favourite because I think it’s the most visually lush, but it’s also the one that leaves you with the most to chew on. This is a movie all about fraternity, given that it’s all about how people are innately connected despite having so little in common. Though this is also a doorway for Kieślowski to unravel something more complicated in its innocence, and I think that’s where it’s at its most alluring.

#5: The Turin Horse (2011, Béla Tarr and Ágnes Hranitzky)

Tarr had said that this would be his final film. And I think that you can sense why he would be stopping with The Turin Horse, because of the way that the world has moved today. Every minute of this movie feels distinctly apocalyptic, but I just think that’s also where it’s at its most beautiful. And at the same time, at its most heartbreaking. That this ended up his swan song just feels a bit poetic for a filmmaker of his stature.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Seeding of a Ghost (1983, Yang Chuan) - ✯✯✯✯½

• You Can Count on Me (2000, Kenneth Lonergan) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Flowing (1956, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Dead Man (1995, Jim Jarmusch) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Baby Assassins: Nice Days (2024, Yugo Sakamoto) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Asthenic Syndrome (1989, Kira Muratova) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Lightning (1952, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Ga-ga: Glory to the Heroes (1986, Piotr Szulkin) - ✯✯✯✯½

Sunday

• The Last Circus (2010, Álex de la Iglesia) - ✯✯✯

• Rushmore (1998, Wes Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Beauty and the Beast (1946, Jean Cocteau) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A Wanderer’s Notebook (1962, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Avengement (2019, Jesse V. Johnson) - ✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Bat Without Wings (1980, Chor Yuen) - ✯✯✯½

• The Sword and the Dragon (1956, Aleksandr Ptushko) - ✯✯✯½

• Jigarthanda DoubleX (2023, Karthik Subbaraj) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Zodiac Killer Project (2025, Charlie Shackleton) - ✯✯✯

• Zodiac (2007, David Fincher) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Timecop (1994, Peter Hyams) - ✯✯✯½

• Werckmeister Harmonies (2000, Béla Tarr and Ágnes Hranitzky) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Three Colors: Red (1994, Krzysztof Kieślowski) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Bullet in the Head (1990, John Woo) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• A Chinese Ghost Story (1987, Tony Ching) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Turin Horse (2011, Béla Tarr and Ágnes Hranitzky) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026, Nia DaCosta) - ✯✯✯½

• A Chinese Ghost Story II (1990, Tony Ching) - ✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• An Aria on Gazes (1992, Hisayasu Satô) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Fargo (1996, Joel and Ethan Coen) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Our Time (2018, Carlos Reygadas) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A Chinese Ghost Story III (1991, Tony Ching) - ✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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2025 is gone. 2026 is here, and I have mixed feelings. As of January 1st of this year, I am unemployed. It was nice having some steady income my way through last year, but I’m in a mode of job hunting: perhaps not to the same extent that Lee Byung-hun’s doing so in No Other Choice, but I am in that state nonetheless. To say the least, it’s not something I would ever wish upon anyone else. So I find that cinema has only become a vital luxury towards enjoying life as I see it now. And who knows what life has in store for me this year? All I just hope for right now is for 2026 to prove a better year than last.

By the way, if you want to help ensure my survival, and to ensure more of these entries come forth in the coming days, you ought to consider being a paid subscriber. Since there’s no guarantee that this job market will be any more forgiving even after a movie about how it’s turned working class people against each other in the limelight.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Stanley Kubrick)

This was the first film I saw theatrically in 2026. I think it was only fitting that I enter this year on a high note, because the opportunity to see 2001: A Space Odyssey on 70mm is not one that comes by very often. And seeing it on the big screen is truly a life-changing experience either way. There’s never been any other movie out there quite like it: perhaps because no one would ever think to make anything of this sort ever again. Kubrick has accomplished the unthinkable here, a movie that encompasses the inevitable love we have for our own innovations to the point we even forget where we come from underneath. And perhaps in this day and age, where innovations in artificial intelligence are endlessly celebrated, it feels more urgent than ever.

#2: Edward Scissorhands (1990, Tim Burton)

I haven’t always been the biggest fan of Edward Scissorhands. Surely enough, I’ve always understood why Tim Burton and Danny Elfman consider it to be their favourite of their own work, especially in the latter’s case, because it’s maybe Elfman’s most beautiful score. And I’ve always found it too saccharine. I don’t think that’s something I believe anymore about Edward Scissorhands, even though it wouldn’t even make my top three Burton films either (then again, my favourite of his films is Pee-wee’s Big Adventure). Yet, as a celebration of the misfit, it’s hard to object to what Edward Scissorhands stands for.

#3: Marty Supreme (2025, Josh Safdie)

For what it’s worth, I can’t say I’ve really considered myself the biggest fan of Timothée Chalamet. That’s not to say I’ve disliked him, I think he’s a very talented actor, but I don’t think he has ever really jumped at me in the same way many rising actors from this generation did for me (granted, he’s only a few years older than I am). However, with Marty Supreme, things changed. I think this guy’s astonishing. And Josh Safdie cast him really well inside a part where you sense that this is a guy whose whole world is built around the idea he’s onto something great. Yet that’s not quite what his reality has in store for him. That’s a perfectly entertaining foil, and I think it’s where Safdie delivers on all cylinders here. Of course, it’s the sort of role only someone like Chalamet can play.

#4: A Tale of Autumn (1998, Éric Rohmer)

Rohmer has always been one of my favourite filmmakers. But I’ve never really bothered to complete the Tales of the Four Seasons because I haven’t exactly been the biggest fans of these films compared to his Six Moral Tales or the Comedies and Proverbs. That all might change with this viewing of A Tale of Autumn, which moved me to no end. Being the last of Rohmer’s Tales of the Four Seasons, I think the more melancholic nature of this movie compared to the preceding three films speaks to me with where I am now. Though perhaps that’s the incentive I need to revisit its predecessors.

#5: Vertigo (1957, Alfred Hitchcock)

Do I need to explain this one? I suppose not, but Vertigo is just a movie that I love dearly and I think the many great pieces of writing that it has inspired only are indicative of how I’d feel I’m repeating myself. Yet Vertigo just remains so astonishing for because it’s a movie that really personifies Alfred Hitchcock and what he knew the cinema was capable of. For that alone, I think it makes the nonsensical nature of how the mystery of Vertigo unfolds all the more beguiling. It’s a film built around obsession and how it shrouds any sense of rational thought inside our head. And I don’t think I will ever turn down the opportunity to see it on a 70mm print, for that’s something one must cherish as it comes by.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1963, Jacques Demy) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985, Tim Burton) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Burmese Harp (1956, Kon Ichikawa) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• One Battle After Another (2025, Paul Thomas Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 70mm

Saturday

• Perfect Blue (1997, Satoshi Kon) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• You Can Count on Me (2000, Kenneth Lonergan) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Vertigo (1957, Alfred Hitchcock) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 70mm

• Save the Green Planet! (2003, Jang Joon-hwan) - ✯✯✯✯½

Sunday

• Peeping Tom (1960, Michael Powell) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Shoeshine (1946, Vittorio De Sica) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Edward Scissorhands (1990, Tim Burton) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Winter in Sokcho (2024, Koya Kamura) - ✯✯✯½

• Princess from the Moon (1987, Kon Ichikawa) - ✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Influencers (2025, Kurtis David Harder) - ✯✯✯½

• The Mother and the Whore (1973, Jean Eustache) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Hackers (1995, Iain Softley) - ✯✯✯✯

• Eyes Wide Shut (1999, Stanley Kubrick) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Portrait in Crystal (1983, Hua Shan) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Girl on the Broomstick (1972, Václav Vorlíček) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Marty Supreme (2025, Josh Safdie) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 70mm

• Honey Don’t! (2025, Ethan Coen) - ✯✯

Wednesday

• Ed Wood (1994, Tim Burton) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Cover-Up (2025, Laura Poitras and Mark Obenhaus) - ✯✯✯✯

• A History of Violence (2005, David Cronenberg) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Insider (1999, Michael Mann) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Altered States (1980, Ken Russell) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A Tale of Autumn (1998, Éric Rohmer) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Stanley Kubrick) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 70mm

• New Rose Hotel (1998, Abel Ferrara) - ✯✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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I hope every one of my readers had a happy holiday season! I’ve been trying to do the best I could while being unemployed and living off what I can, as I earn more money from what I write here. And it’s also growing stressful, as I’m trying to turn Cinema from the Spectrum into a viable means of making a sustainable income. Granted, I expect that these challenges will only present themselves in more aggressive forms in the new year, but I think that it’s a change I’ll embrace for the new year. We have, indeed, managed to hit a massive high over at TIFF this year, with the team having expanded: and our Patreon is earning $35/month, which is pretty solid as a startup. Let’s hope that 2026 brings us good fortune.

Without further ado, these are Friday’s Five Films. If you like what you’re seeing here, remember to subscribe for a whole lot more.

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#1: All That Heaven Allows (1955, Douglas Sirk)

I think of this movie as one of the great romance films of Hollywood’s Golden Age, but also one of the great melodramas in cinema history. It’s a movie all about the world that America has created, built on materialism and social standing, as opposed to the needs of others, and how people we love dearly suffer as a result. Jane Wyman and Rock Hudson are just heartbreaking to watch together, especially given the many looks that other people give them in the context of the film. And for what? Who are we to judge where their happiness comes forth? The cruelty felt in All That Heaven Allows is just stunning, because of how it seems so widespread.

#2: Fanny and Alexander (1982, Ingmar Bergman)

I think I’ve seen this movie at least once every Christmas, because it’s just one of the best movies anyone could ever make about how important it is for families to stick together in times of tragedy. And knowing what Ingmar Bergman had intended, I always watch the five-hour-long version of Fanny and Alexander, primarily because it represents a more complete portrait of a family in disarray during the holiday season. I’ve reached that point in my life where the film’s massive running time doesn’t feel like a bother anymore (it’s never bothered me so much), but it’s crucial towards understanding the ins and outs of the Ekdahl family as seen through a child’s eyes.

#3: Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling (1986, Richard Pryor)

Richard Pryor is one of the greatest ever to do it. I think after watching this alongside Richard Pryor: Live in Concert, I have a much more firm appreciation for it. It’s doing something unlike what you would expect from any biopic, because it’s Richard Pryor telling you his life story. And every minute of Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling feels like a moment for Richard Pryor to exorcize his own demons as he’d encountered through his life. I don’t know if I’d call this movie “perfect” in the same sense I would classify many of the other films I list down with five stars, but for what it is, I think it’s marvelous.

#4: Metropolitan (1990, Whit Stillman)

Between this and The Last Days of Disco, I always find I have a hard time picking out a favourite from Whit Stillman. I believe Stillman to be one of the smartest screenwriters of the 1990s, particularly stemming from how he deconstructs the shallowness of the bourgeois class which the characters in Metropolitan occupy. Then there’s something ever more impressive felt in the fact he manages to make them all feel lovable, despite the class of people which they all represent. I think that’s how you know he’s managed to show himself a great humanist above all else too, which is important with making a satire like this that lands wonderfully.

#5: Sound of the Mountain (1954, Mikio Naruse)

TIFF’s Mikio Naruse retrospective continues, and thus, another masterpiece from Japan’s own answer to Douglas Sirk is included. I was also tossing up whether to give this spot to Scattered Clouds or this, but I ultimately settled for Sound of the Mountain because I think I just like this movie slightly more. It’s the closest that Mikio Naruse has come to a happy ending, or at least ending on an optimistic note. Yet I think while watching Sound of the Mountain, you feel that there’s a desire to reach out to those who are suffering in ways that almost seem invisible to the human eye. I find that all very commendable, but perhaps what Naruse accomplishes is the ability to make it all felt.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

First time watches are denoted with bold text. Scores are on a ½ to ✯✯✯✯✯ basis.

Friday

• Emmanuelle (1974, Just Jaeckin) - ✯✯½

• Boogie Nights (1997, Paul Thomas Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Yojimbo (1961, Akira Kurosawa) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence (1983, Nagisa Oshima) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Real Life (1979, Albert Brooks) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Christmas Bloody Christmas (2022, Joe Begos) - ✯✯½

• Assassin of the Tsar (1991, Karen Shakhnazarov) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Swindle (1955, Federico Fellini) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Shop Around the Corner (1940, Ernst Lubitsch) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Tokyo Godfathers (2003, Satoshi Kon) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Sound of the Mountain (1954, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Richard Pryor: Live in Concert (1979, Jeff Margolis) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling (1986, Richard Pryor) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985, Tim Burton) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Salaam Bombay! (1988, Mira Nair) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Fanny and Alexander (1982, Ingmar Bergman) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Read My Lips (2001, Jacques Audiard) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• You Are Not Me (2023, Moisés Romera and Marisa Crespo) - ✯✯✯

• No Country for Old Men (2007, Joel and Ethan Coen) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Avatar: Fire and Ash (2025, James Cameron) - ✯✯✯✯

• Scattered Clouds (1967, Mikio Naruse) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• All That Heaven Allows (1955, Douglas Sirk) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Silent Night, Bloody Night (1972, Theodore Gershuny) - ✯✯✯½

• Meet Me in St. Louis (1944, Vincente Minnelli) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Metropolitan (1990, Whit Stillman) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Brazil (1985, Terry Gilliam) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Holiday (2006, Nancy Meyers) - ✯✯✯½

Thursday

• Adult Swim Yule Log (2022, Casper Kelly) - ✯✯✯

• The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992, Brian Henson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Preacher’s Wife (1996, Penny Marshall) - ✯✯✯

• The Holdovers (2023, Alexander Payne) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Adult Swim Yule Log 2: Branchin’ Out (2024, Casper Kelly) - ✯✯✯✯

For real time updates, please follow me on Letterboxd here.

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