I went with a Sam Neill photo to start things off, because we lost one of the great screen actors earlier in the week in his passing. When talking about how he could command the screen, you simply need to see a film like Jurassic Park to understand how he brought such energy forth. And it only goes without saying he’ll be missed dearly by many cinephiles. Just something that remained on my mind the whole week, as I could have easily highlighted many of his movies – but I chose an unconventional one deliberately. You’ll see soon enough.

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: Funny Girl (1968, William Wyler)

I feel that, at this rate, this is one of a handful of musicals where I know the lyrics to most, if not all the songs. Maybe it’s because William Wyler does everything he can to make sure you feel the height of the emotions at play, but also where it speaks for the artists performing them. Barbra Streisand’s portrait of Fanny Brice screams “movie star” on every frame, but it’s also as perfect a movie about the pursuit of fame as one can get. The title Funny Girl feels apt, not just because it’s a movie about wanting to entertain, but also our releationship to the entertainer. We see an artist, but they see suffering – and even those songs reflect such hardship. I love this movie dearly.

#2: A History of Violence (2005, David Cronenberg)

This is one David Cronenberg film that I find only grows in esteem for me over the years. This isn’t the first time I’ve highlighted A History of Violence here, but I find that it’s always rewarding to come back to this one. It’s rewarding because it feels like Cronenberg understands where this need to build a “hero” narrative comes forth in the United States, but also how these acts of violence just hint at something more fractured. Everything we’re seeing in A History of Violence presents itself ordinarily, but that’s where Cronenberg breaks through a façade of a perfect American family. And when we see those uncomfortable layers broken through, it’s a fundamentally devastating work.

#3: Macho Dancer (1988, Lino Brocka)

I’d been waiting for the perfect opportunity to watch this Lino Brocka classic, and thankfully a new restoration courtesy of Kani means more eyes on the great Filipino auteur. That said, it’s hard not to sense that Macho Dancer feels like it stands for everything that Lino Brocka believes in, first as an antifascist storyteller during the height of the Marcos dictatorship, but also as a gay man. It’s a film that shows you everything he stands for, but as we navigate through the seedy nightlife of Manila, we’re also seeing a film about the necessity to survive. Just deeply tragic, and vital filmmaking. No one did it out there like Brocka.

#4: Memento (2000, Christopher Nolan)

With Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey opening in this summer, TIFF has also scheduled a complete retrospective dedicated to his work for the occasion. For me, that felt like the perfect opportunity to revisit these on film, and I think I understand why Nolan was a filmmaker I found myself attached to in high school. Memento is my favourite of his works, at least because the nonlinear storytelling gives us a glimpse into a fractured mind for his protagonist, but it also points to something bleaker. It’s bleak in the sense that we’re following a path of violence meant to satisfy revenge, but where Nolan takes you with the reverse storytelling is some place discomforting. And in that moment, he confronts the basic psychology of revenge, especially as it is an easy narrative framework. Memento is anything but.

#5: The Piano (1993, Jane Campion)

For the late, great Sam Neill. I could have easily chosen to rewatch Jurassic Park or Possession, but I opted for something less conventional – only because I had not seen this film in a while. Jane Campion has long been a favourite filmmaker of mine, but I think what really gets me about The Piano is how her protagonist’s deliberate silence comes as a response to patriarchal norms, often found in period pieces. It’s not really a romance, as much as it gets seen as one because of the template, but a movie about survival – an instinct that Campion understands thoroughly in her filmography. To me, this is her best film, though I understand that is the popular belief of many others.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• The Crazy Family (1984, Gakuryu Ishii) - ✯✯✯✯

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

• Nobody Waved Goodbye (1964, Don Owen) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Pied Piper (1986, Jiří Barta) - ✯✯✯½

• Memento (2000, Christopher Nolan) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Tinsman Road (2025, Robbie Banfitch) - ✯✯✯

Saturday

• Cannibal Girls (1973, Ivan Reitman) - ✯✯✯

• The Bob’s Burgers Movie (2022, Loren Bouchard) - ✯✯✯½

• Following (1998, Christopher Nolan) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Macho Dancer (1988, Lino Brocka) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Her Body (2023, Natálie Císařovská) - ✯✯✯

Sunday

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

• Romería (2025, Carla Simón) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Gendernauts: A Journey Through Shifting Identities (1999, Monika Treut) - ✯✯✯✯

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

Monday

• Cairo Station (1958, Youssef Chahine) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Long, Hot Summer (1958, Martin Ritt) - ✯✯✯

• The Piano (1993, Jane Campion) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Sea Hawk (1940, Michael Curtiz) - ✯✯✯✯½

• CAMP (2025, Avalon Fast) - ✯✯✯✯

• Sweetness (2025, Emma Higgins) - ✯✯✯½

Tuesday

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

• The Big Heat (1953, Fritz Lang) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Gangster, the Cop, the Devil (2019, Lee Won-tae) - ✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Daniel Isn’t Real (2019, Adam Egypt Mortimer) - ✯✯✯

• Funny Girl (1968, William Wyler) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Redline (2009, Takashi Koike) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Stake Land (2010, Jim Mickle) - ✯✯✯½

Thursday

• Daybreakers (2009, Michael and Peter Spierig) - ✯✯✯

• Girls Like Girls (2026, Hayley Kiyoko) - ✯✯✯

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

• The Prestige (2006, Christopher Nolan) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• New Battles Without Honor and Humanity 1 (1974, Kinji Fukasaku) - ✯✯✯✯

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

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A retrospective dedicated to Christopher Nolan has started at TIFF. I’m one of those people who bought a ticket to see The Odyssey on IMAX 70mm an entire year in advance, so by next week, you’ll have some more of my thoughts readied out on Cinema from the Spectrum. I almost considered putting Tenet on this week’s selection because I certainly had a better time watching it now than I did during its initial run; and maybe the crowd experience helped that. Because that move to release the film during the peak of the pandemic certainly helped get people talking about it, maybe not for the same reasons Nolan hoped. I’ll have more thoughts to write 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: Bringing Out the Dead (1999, Martin Scorsese)

One of my favourite Martin Scorsese films, perhaps one that even seems underrated by virtue of it not receiving the same level of reverence as most of his films in this era. I can’t think of many other films that give you a sense of the psychological damage that workplace burnout does much like this one. And the fact it’s for a service as essential as an ambulance driver makes it all the more horrifying, because we’re always seeing constant life-or-death scenarios all around. Nicolas Cage has never been much better than he is in here.

#2: Comanche Station (1960, Budd Boetticher)

At the last Criterion sale in March, I picked up the Ranown westerns box set. I delayed watching the final film in the set for some time, but now that I’ve gotten around to it, I can safely say that this box set has been one of my favourite purchases. The low-budget nature of these westerns doesn’t only lend itself to a more creative production, but a different understanding of the American west. This has been a common through line for each of the Ranown westerns, but this final film in the cycle encourages us to rethink the violent nature of American mythologies as perpetuated by the west. The opening scene, being of few English words, lets us ruminate on the treatment of Native Americans in that same process. Sure, it’s dated – as with any great western of this era. However, Boetticher’s not one to let the viewers off the hook so easily, especially when the lines between how we understand “good” or “bad” are never so simple.

#3: Full Contact (1992, Ringo Lam)

Chow Yun-fat is one of the greatest movie stars ever to do it. I think all you even need to see is him in any of his action movies, and you’ll feel his presence commanding the screen with relative ease. For Ringo Lam, Full Contact is a perfect opportunity for him to create what he defines as a “pure action” movie, but this template of revenge is so elaborate, you feel violence at an interpersonal level. And it also has one of the all-time great final lines in just about any movie: “Go jerk off in hell!”

#4: La Maison des bois (1971, Maurice Pialat)

For once, I decided to include an entire miniseries here. Probably won’t be the last time I’ll do that, either, but I felt it was appropriate in this case after having gotten the chance to see all seven episodes theatrically. There’s a part of me that wants to say this is my favourite Pialat work, especially for how it engages with the way that wartime displacement affects a child’s psychology. It’s part of where Pialat has created an astonishing coming-of-age story in La Maison des bois, but we’re also seeing that there’s a looming threat of violence because of the war. It’s something that haunts every episode, but especially the way the young Hervé grows up, let alone what he becomes attached to.

#5: The Trial (1962, Orson Welles)

This might just be my favourite Orson Welles movie. At least, it’s the one that I think about the most. Given the point in Welles’s career where it was made, The Trial feels like you’re undergoing a nightmare only unfettered bureaucracy stirs up. Everything about this movie is disorienting, but it’s also essential towards the feeling that Welles wishes to conjure from his audience. Everything is decided by a bureaucracy, to the point where questioning a flaw in the system is futile. Ordinary settings are heightened to such a level where you don’t know who to trust anymore, especially if people are waiting to sell you out. Just the stuff of nightmares, really – the kind that gets under your skin because it’s so easy to sense that this is all still happening in many other forms now.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• The Invite (2026, Olivia Wilde) - ✯✯✯✯½

• My Father Is Coming (1991, Monika Treut) - ✯✯✯✯

• Full Contact (1992, Ringo Lam) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Door II: Tokyo Diary (1991, Banmei Takahashi) - ✯✯✯½

• Propeller One-Way Night Coach (2026, John Travolta) - ✯✯

• La Maison des bois (1971, Maurice Pialat) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Hole (2009, Joe Dante) - ✯✯✯½

Sunday

• Macbeth (1948, Orson Welles) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Ratatouille (2007, Brad Bird) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Didn’t Do It For Love (1997, Monika Treut) - ✯✯✯½

• Enemies, a Love Story (1989, Paul Mazursky) - ✯✯✯½

• Lee Cronin’s The Mummy (2026, Lee Cronin) - ✯✯

Monday

• Door III (1996, Kiyoshi Kurosawa) - ✯✯✯½

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

• Wasteman (2025, Cal McCau) - ✯✯✯½

• Forelock (2025, Caleb Alexander Smith) - ✯✯✯✯

• Citizen Vigilante (2026, Uwe Boll) - ½

Tuesday

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

• Minions & Monsters (2026, Pierre Coffin) - ✯✯✯½

• Salaam Bombay! (1988, Mira Nair) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Mimic (1997, Guillermo del Toro) - ✯✯✯½

Wednesday

• To Die For (1995, Gus Van Sant) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Return (2024, Uberto Pasolini) - ✯✯✯

• The Blue Planet (1982, Franco Piavoli) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Trial (1962, Orson Welles) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Comanche Station (1960, Budd Boetticher) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Bringing Out the Dead (1999, Martin Scorsese) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Evil Dead Burn (2026, Sébastien Vaniček) - ✯✯✯

• Tenet (2020, Christopher Nolan) - ✯✯✯½, watched on 70mm

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

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Things have been a bit slow on the writing side. Most of this stemmed from me not really having that same motivation, especially when I don’t know if I’m always able to find something I can write about. I didn’t even have a Defining Favourites essay ready on time for Pride Month like I’d hoped, but that’s something I’m working on now so I can do more than just make up for it. Still, I appreciate your patience with me all this time later.

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: Finding Nemo (2003, Andrew Stanton)

My earliest memory in a movie theater, and one that made me want to adopt fishes as a kid, before I realized too late that I was terrible at that. It feels rather ironic, especially when this film portrays keeping fishes in aquariums as being a negative, but coming back to Finding Nemo as an adult, I’m surprised how well it holds up. Granted, I’ve always believed that Andrew Stanton was Pixar’s best storyteller, but he’s also pushing for something more ambitious in scope than the likes of Toy Story or Monsters, Inc., with the ocean setting. And yet, it’s also where one of the most entertaining adventures in Pixar’s catalogue comes forth, given Marlin’s neurosis brought on forth by that visceral opening sequence pre-title card. Side note: after having gotten a root canal not too long ago, I can say for certain this is the least accurate portrait of dentistry on the screen. That said, it still makes me laugh a great deal.

#2: Once Upon a Time in China (1991, Tsui Hark)

Maybe my favourite Jet Li movie. Perhaps goes without saying that I’ve always ranked Tsui Hark as one of the greatest Hong Kong filmmakers, especially in the action genre, alongside John Woo and Ringo Lam. In bringing to the screen a story that has become representative of Chinese tradition, Tsui’s rendition is made more enthralling by showing it rising in the face of western modernization. We feel its case made as the film hammers down this idea that martial arts can’t go up against guns, but that doesn’t stop Tsui Hark either. It’s also just why this movie is so fun to watch.

#3: Seduction: The Cruel Woman (1985, Monika Treut and Elfi Mikesch)

This is the only movie I can think of where Udo Kier is begging on his knees for a woman’s love, instead of a man. Though it’s also a good framework for Monika Treut’s first feature film behind the camera, in which a woman utilizing her own sexual energy can place her in power. TIFF has started a series dedicated to Monika Treut, and this was a good place to start – only because I think it tells you everything you need to know about Treut’s own worldview.

#4: Videodrome (1983, David Cronenberg)

Because Canada Day took place, what kind of patriot would I be if I did not seize the opportunity to rewatch one of my favourite pieces of Canadian cinema? For most Canadian cinephiles, I think that Videodrome is a film that needs no introduction. The same can be said about David Cronenberg, especially within that scope of Toronto cineastes. I had written about Videodrome for this newsletter previously, and it’s a piece which I’m immensely proud of. So instead, I’ll be linking that right here.

Read here!

#5: The Watermelon Woman (1996, Cheryl Dunye)

I like coming back to this film every chance that I have, because it gives people the opportunity to rethink how they understand film history, and its treatment of minority populations. In the context of The Watermelon Woman, the film’s titular actress is not real. Though Dunye’s craft leaves us with a chance to ruminate about the possibility of someone like this “watermelon woman” actually existing, especially if people like herself, being a Black lesbian, have so little screen representation. At a certain point, you just have to go out and make your own history.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• Dangerous Encounters of the First Kind (1980, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Paytime (2024, Felipe Wein) - ✯✯✯✯

• Seduction: The Cruel Woman (1985, Monika Treut and Elfi Mikesch) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

Saturday

• The Balconettes (2024, Noémie Merlant) - ✯✯½

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

• Suddenly, Last Summer (1959, Joseph L. Mankiewicz) - ✯✯✯½

• Summer Interlude (1951, Ingmar Bergman) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Once Upon a Time in China (1991, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Emmanuelle (2024, Audrey Diwan) - ✯✯

• The Aggressives (2005, Daniel Piddle) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Blade (1995, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Niagara (1953, Henry Hathaway) - ✯✯✯

• L’enfance nue (1968, Maurice Pialat) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Watermelon Woman (1996, Cheryl Dunye) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• In Flames (2023, Zarrar Kahn) - ✯✯✯½

• Finding Nemo (2003, Andrew Stanton) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Love for All Seasons (2003, Johnnie To and Wai Ka-fai) - ✯✯✯

• When Tomorrow Dies (1965, Larry Kent) - ✯✯✯½

• Some Like It Hot (1959, Billy Wilder) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A Girl at My Door (2014, July Jung) - ✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Jackass: Best and Last (2026, Jeff Tremaine) - ✯✯✯½

• Virgin Machine (1988, Monika Treut) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Jade (1995, William Friedkin) - ✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• In Hell (2003, Ringo Lam) - ✯✯½

• The Big Heat (1988, Johnnie To and Andrew Kam Yeung-Wah) - ✯✯✯✯

• Jackass 4.5 (2022, Jeff Tremaine) - ✯✯✯✯

• Tiki Tiki (1971, Gerald Potterton) - ✯✯✯✯

• Videodrome (1983, David Cronenberg) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Gods Have a Nervous Breakdown (1990, Hisayasu Satô) - ✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Casa de los Babys (2003, John Sayles) - ✯✯✯½

• Pom Pom and Hot Hot (1992, Joe Cheung Tung-Cho) - ✯✯✯½

• King Hamlet (2025, Elvira Lind) - ✯✯✯½

• Female Misbehavior (1992, Monika Treut) - ✯✯✯✯

• Over Your Dead Body (2026, Jorma Taccone) - ✯✯✯

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

Letterboxd

Business has been a bit slow. Pride Month is almost over, but FIFA season is beginning – which almost made me consider putting Bend It Like Beckham in this week’s selection just by nature of how fun that 35mm screening was. That having been said, I’ve got at least a few more articles that I want to get out to the world before the end of the month, because my productivity has not exactly been in the best spot lately. I’m aiming to fix that soon, so bear with me – and I hope you at least can turn this into something positive for myself. Thanks again for everything.

P.S. – I’m officially eligible for the Canadian Dental Care Plan – if you chipped into that GoFundMe earlier, thanks again! The root canal went painlessly, but now I know I don’t have to worry about as much for the potentially exorbitant cost of a crown for my tooth.

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: Come Back to the 5 & Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean (1982, Robert Altman)

Every time I watch this film, I’m always taken aback by how much compassion is afforded to the transgender representation here. Maybe dated by today’s standards, sure, since Joanna is portrayed by the cisgender Karen Black – but her character’s transition is not treated as a defining aspect of herself. Rather, it’s her humanity that’s placed front and center, as Robert Altman would know best. Given where this film started, being adapted from the stage, it’s always astonishing to me to come back and realize that he’s doing more than just tell the same story for the screen. Instead, he’s asserting that film can offer another means of insight into what was already laid out on stage.

#2: Dangerous Encounters of the First Kind (1980, Tsui Hark)

Cult Epics released this very difficult to find Tsui Hark masterpiece on Blu-ray, under one of the alternate English titles, Don’t Play with Fire. I think both are effective titles, but something about the bluntness of Dangerous Encounters of the First Kind strikes me more. Perhaps because it echoes a certain Steven Spielberg masterpiece, but also because it points back to the kind of innocence that Tsui Hark’s protagonists had carried in such a cruel world. And of course, we’re seeing what happens as they get pushed towards something more dangerous – the fact this film even survived, despite heavy censorship, is miraculous.

#3: Pink Narcissus (1971, James Bidgood)

If James Bidgood had got this entire film made in a New York City apartment, I feel almost like I’ve been doing absolutely nothing with my whole life. At least, because this is a film that I’ve wanted to see for a long time, but the perfect opportunity never came by me until the chance to see it theatrically. Couldn’t help but feel like this brought back memories of Kenneth Anger, in its appropriation of fantastical imagery to convey a sense of queer longing. It’s a stunning work. And I made a bizarre choice to double bill this one with Toy Story 5. Talk about stark contrast right there.

#4: Ticket of No Return (1979, Ulrike Ottinger)

This is a movie all about a quest to get drunk in Berlin, and live the rest of your days as a drunkard. And it might be more incendiary than you’d expect, because Ulrike Ottinger’s not treating alcoholism as this big dogma – but a societal failing. To the point where we sense that the choice to get drunk becomes a start of a revolution. It’s a film all about the acceptance of fate, but we’re seeing anger directed at the rulings that have caused these desires to form.

#5: Undine (2020, Christian Petzold)

If it weren’t for Phoenix, I would not hesitate with calling this my favourite Christian Petzold film. That having been said, I think that ever since Petzold has started working with Paula Beer and Franz Rogowski, there’s been a sense of growth to his storytelling, even tapping into romantic sensibilities that border on erotic. After all, he’s come close enough to showing sex on the screen in here, but it’s also where you sense that Petzold has created something more heartbreaking.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• Love Letter in the Sand (1988, Hisayasu Satô) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Come Back to the 5 & Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean (1982, Robert Altman) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Dry Leaf (2025, Alexandre Koberidze) - ✯✯✯✯

• You Won’t Be Alone (2022, Goran Stolevski) - ✯✯✯½

Saturday

• Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens (1979, Russ Meyer) - ✯✯✯½

• Leila and the Wolves (1984, Heiny Srour) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Maddie’s Secret (2025, John Early) - ✯✯✯½

• The Masque of the Red Death (1964, Roger Corman) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Dangerous Encounters of the First Kind (1980, Tsui Hark) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Wake in Fright (1971, Ted Kotcheff) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Miss 501: A Portrait of Luck (2002, Clint Morrill) - ✯✯✯✯

• Let the Summer Never Come Again (2017, Alexandre Koberidze) - ✯✯✯½

• Lustmord (1987, Hisayasu Satô) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• The Sacred Spirit (2021, Chema García Ibarra) - ✯✯✯

• The Incredibles (2004, Brad Bird) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Sound of Falling (2025, Mascha Schilinski) - ✯✯✯½

• Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (2022, Aitch Alberto) - ✯✯✯

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

• The Shining (1980, Stanley Kubrick) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Chulas Fronteras (1976, Les Blank) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Toy Story 5 (2026, Andrew Stanton) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Pink Narcissus (1971, James Bidgood) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

Wednesday

• In the Fog (2012, Sergei Loznitsa) - ✯✯✯✯

• Ticket of No Return (1979, Ulrike Ottinger) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• A Clockwork Orange (1971, Stanley Kubrick) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Saving Face (2004, Alice Wu) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Elite Squad: The Enemy Within (2010, José Padilha) - ✯✯✯✯½

Thursday

• Human Lanterns (1982, Sun Chung) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

• A Bigger Splash (1973, Jack Hazan) - ✯✯✯✯

• Bend It Like Beckham (2002, Gurinder Chadha) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Undine (2020, Christian Petzold) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

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A short retrospective at TIFF dedicated to John Sayles comes to an end, but not without a few productive conversations with a genius who helped pave the way for many independent filmmakers to follow. I had the pleasure of talking with Sayles, even having him sign my Criterion 4K UHD edition of Lone Star, which almost made the cut. That having been said, a package also came in for me from Vinegar Syndrome, so you might even be able to guess which of these viewings came from 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: City of Hope (1991, John Sayles)

It was a tough call for me to choose a John Sayles movie for this slot. Lone Star is brilliant, Matewan is excellent, but I settled for City of Hope because it’s not nearly as well-known. And in my eyes, it deserves to be ranked among his best works. Sayles has always been a highly class-conscious storyteller, but he’s also a very deeply multifaceted storyteller at that. In how these many narratives converge in City of Hope, we’re watching a film about the American economy that’s as bleak as they might get. This is a city of hope, not for the working class, but for the already rich and powerful, hoping to corrupt more along the way.

#2: Crimson Gold (2003, Jafar Panahi)

I consider Jafar Panahi to be one of the most important working filmmakers. This doesn’t stem just from the scrutiny that he’s faced within his native Iran, but because of how his work breaks down human nature. Yet, Crimson Gold is where you also sense a budding anger that remains present through his later work. He’s moved away from that same realm of innocence he’d given us in The White Balloon and The Mirror, but started with a violent image in Crimson Gold and reverse engineered from there. It may be the most harrowing film of his career before his arrest.

#3: Disclosure Day (2026, Steven Spielberg)

This isn’t a perfect film. It might even be a messy one at that. Yet, that might be all the more reason I love it. Granted, Steven Spielberg is a name you can naturally expect greatness from – and he’s swinging for the fences as he revisits familiar territory with Disclosure Day. All of which comes from Spielberg earnestly believing that something amazing is out there that can bring people together, knowing that we all have a natural distrust in ruling forces. If anything, I’m just glad Spielberg got this out of his system.

#4: Re-Wind (1988, Hisayasu Satô)

Hisayasu Satô is not an easy filmmaker to sell, perhaps because that classification of his most famous works as “pinku eiga” would leave you thinking of pornography. Though I find that he’s all the more fascinating because of how he utilizes that same field, given the sort of audiences that these films attract. In Re-Wind, he’s weaponizing the desires of the viewers, before unleashing some of the most horrifying images of violence – to a point you feel implicated for watching the film. That alone might be the perfect doorway to the horror genre for someone like Satô after all.

#5: Spacked Out (2000, Lawrence Ah Mon)

In my eyes, this film deserves to be listed among the greatest coming-of-age films ever made. Every minute of Spacked Out feels so full of life, but it’s also built around the idea that young people are not nearly as naïve about the state of the world as we presume. And in how this film emphasizes the difficulties of being a woman in contemporary Hong Kong, Lawrence Ah Mon has no judgment to pass. He sees them all as human beings, sharing a mutual struggle – something we can relate with, even as something so horrifying may even happen out of nowhere.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• The Doom Generation (1995, Gregg Araki) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Blue Caftan (2022, Maryam Touzani) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Lone Star (1996, John Sayles) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Men with Guns (1997, John Sayles) - ✯✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

Saturday

• I.K.U. (2000, Shu Lea Cheang) - ✯✯✯✯½

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

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

• Baby It’s You (1983, John Sayles) - ✯✯✯✯½

Sunday

• Singapore Sling (1990, Nikos Nikolaidis) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Reaching for the Moon (2013, Bruno Barreto) - ✯✯✯✯

• Silver City (2004, John Sayles) - ✯✯✯✯

• City of Hope (1991, John Sayles) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Spacked Out (2000, Lawrence Ah Mon) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

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

• Straight to Hell (1987, Alex Cox) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Dresser (1983, Peter Yates) - ✯✯✯✯

• Dreams (2025, Michel Franco) - ✯

• Up (2009, Pete Docter) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Columnist (2019, Ivo van Aart) - ✯✯✯½

Tuesday

• E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982, Steven Spielberg) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Great Freedom (2021, Sebastian Meise) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Disclosure Day (2026, Steven Spielberg) - ✯✯✯✯½, watched on 70mm

• They Will Kill You (2026, Kirill Sokolov) - ✯✯½

Wednesday

• Yi Yi (2000, Edward Yang) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Dou kyu sei – Classmates (2016, Shoko Nakamura) - ✯✯✯✯

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

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

Thursday

• Crimson Gold (2003, Jafar Panahi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Rose of Nevada (2025, Mark Jenkin) - ✯✯✯✯

• Return of the Secaucus Seven (1980, John Sayles) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• The Howling (1981, Joe Dante) - ✯✯✯✯

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

Letterboxd

TIFF has started a retrospective dedicated to the work of John Sayles, so my whole weekend will be full of his movies. Not like I have much else to add about Sayles, other than being one of the greatest American filmmakers – but I’ve got more coming up over the next while or so. One of my most anticipated films of the year opens this weekend, which is none other than Steven Spielberg’s Disclosure Day. Hopefully, I’ll have a lot more to write there, because I miss being able to do it so frequently after going through more bouts of depression and burnout. We’ve all been there, 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 Brother from Another Planet (1984, John Sayles)

If you watched this because that title made it sound like a blaxploitation movie, you’re not alone – that was my impression of The Brother from Another Planet. Yet, John Sayles works with these familiar genre conventions in order to bring out what’s maybe one of the most telling things about Sayles off the bat. He’s making a film that reflects the immigrant experience in the United States, from how the Brother interacts with people to him being chased by bounty hunters which could just as well be ICE agents today. I underestimated this one, putting it lightly.

#2: Exotica (1994, Atom Egoyan)

Arguably the greatest Canadian film ever made? I’m hardly the first person to make such an assertion. It’s one of a handful of movies I can think of that really shows Toronto for what it really is: a place where so many people have their own secrets. So it only feels appropriate that the titular strip club is where many of them come out, and it’s also where Egoyan makes what’s arguably his most empathetic film to date.

#3: Hairspray (1988, John Waters)

John Waters knows that he’s embracing a “corny” look for Hairspray, especially when he has a character whose name is Corny Collins. Though that artifice might be essential towards understanding a portrait of the United States’s materialism, moving from one era to the next. In a way, it feels like this is Waters’s own response to the Ronald Reagan years: in that he’s reminding the audiences that it was all so tacky at one point. Alas, that’s the perfect room for him to push forth exactly what he believes in. Hard to argue against any of it as we’re seeing here.

#4: Toy Story (1995, John Lasseter)

I’m going through this series in preparation for the new one; and I have another article in the works that might talk more about my connection to these films on the whole. Frankly, I don’t think the Toy Story movies really need an introduction, especially when they’re maybe among the most widely seen movies off the top of my head. Yet if you asked me to pick just one, my heart belongs to the first one – mostly because it’s the sharpest one in my eyes. And it’s a simple enough template that works, but with it being a film that was as innovative as it was for the time, it’s also why we have some more great animated films in its wake. They owe a lot to this one.

#5: Vive L’Amour (1994, Tsai Ming-liang)

This ending shot of Vive L’Amour is a hard one to forget. But I think that it also serves as the perfect statement about director Tsai Ming-liang’s own career. For that reason, it might even be my favourite of his work, especially because it encapsulates the result of a fruitless search for love, in places that seem familiar to us. And we’re left in this state of an unending sadness, only to be shrouded in that loneliness for a long time.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• Troy (2004, Wolfgang Petersen) - ✯✯

• Erin’s Guide to Kissing Girls (2022, Julianna Notten) - ✯✯✯✯

• Mārama (2025, Toa Stappard) - ✯✯✯½

Saturday

• Evil Cat (1987, Dennis Yu Wan-Kwong) - ✯✯✯

• Attachment (2022, Gabriel Bier Gislason) - ✯✯✯½

• Exiled (2006, Johnnie To) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Vive L’Amour (1994, Tsai Ming-liang) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• Toy Story (1995, John Lasseter) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Wildhood (2021, Bretten Hannam) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Exotica (1994, Atom Egoyan) - ✯✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Medusa (2021, Anita Rocha da Silveira) - ✯✯✯½

Monday

• Toy Story 2 (1999, John Lasseter) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Daughter’s Daughter (2024, Huang Xi) - ✯✯✯½

• Blackhat (2015, Michael Mann) - ✯✯✯✯½

Tuesday

• A Nightmare Wakes (2020, Nora Unkel) - ✯✯

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

• The Portrait of a Lady (1996, Jane Campion) - ✯✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

• Toy Story 3 (2010, Lee Unkrich) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

• Satranic Panic (2023, Alice Maio Mackay) - ✯✯✯✯

• Paris, Texas (1984, Wim Wenders) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

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

Thursday

• Killer Nun (1979, Giulio Berruti) - ✯✯✯

• Toy Story 4 (2019, Josh Cooley) - ✯✯✯✯

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

• The Brother from Another Planet (1984, John Sayles) - ✯✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

• Battle Beyond the Stars (1980, Jimmy T. Murakami) - ✯✯

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

Letterboxd

Pride Month has started, and so my viewing habits (and four favourites on Letterboxd) will be adapting accordingly. It’s also where I find that I have the most fun with trying to adjust my viewing habits to watch at least one new queer film per day, so maybe you’ll notice that I have been gravitating towards such. A few of them even made the cut here, as you can see!

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 Eel (1997, Shohei Imamura)

Probably might be among Shohei Imamura’s best films, or at least, I realized I might have underrated this when I first saw this as a teenager. With more familiarity towards the style of movies that Imamura’s career was built upon, The Eel plays out like Imamura being self-reflective. After all, it seems like this is his way of adjusting to a world where his brand of cinema no longer resonated like it once was. Touches are still felt in The Eel, but it gives you that urge to come back to his best works.

#2: Five Easy Pieces (1970, Bob Rafelson)

I’ve watched this movie a ton when I was in high school. This film doesn’t only contain one of my favourite Jack Nicholson roles, but it has maybe one of my favourite characters that he’s played. It all stems from the fact that Bobby Dupea wanders around, even to a point where he’s willing to destroy any sort of good will he’s built with others around him. In a way, he’s the perfect portrait of changing American values over time, and that’s something I find very deeply compelling as we’re watching in here.

#3: Fresh Kill (1994, Shu Lea Cheang)

Can’t say that I’ve seen this kind of maximalism in queer cinema outside of the films of Gregg Araki. Everything about Fresh Kill is evidently built on the shoulders of how queer people (in this film’s case, lesbians) had been tossed aside during the peak of the AIDS crisis. The world we’re seeing here has become dirtier as a result, but it feels more prescient than ever when watching it now. Technology moves forward, and puts money in the pockets of rich people, while working class citizens are left behind as if they don’t matter at all in the grand scheme. In this age of generative AI being pushed everywhere, it certainly stings more.

#4: Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (1985, Paul Schrader)

Started off my Pride Month appropriately, by watching a film about a gay fascist who loved his country so deeply. Yukio Mishima is a fascinating figure, someone who saw through the covers that men presented themselves within, but also felt that it was a doorway to ultranationalism. There aren’t many other films out there quite like this, especially portraits of artists, that show how the art they created is as autobiographical as seeing their own story told. I think it’s Paul Schrader’s greatest film as a director, and certainly among the most beautiful films ever made.

#5: The Power of the Dog (2021, Jane Campion)

I first saw this film when it played at TIFF during its North American premiere. I remember the disappointment from seeing that it was Netflix who was distributing it, because I thought to myself that a film as beautiful as this should be seen on big screens. Yet, everything that builds itself up to, as Jane Campion shows, became much more than the ruggedness of the landscapes. They’re about as important to this story as Phil Burbank’s own views of masculinity, but the cracks within – especially as this unravels itself a story about queer longing. In my eyes, it’s also Benedict Cumberbatch at the best he’s ever been on screen.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• Audition (1999, Takashi Miike) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The Eel (1997, Shohei Imamura) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Charade (1963, Stanley Donen) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Backrooms (2026, Kane Parsons) - ✯✯✯½

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

• No Telling (1991, Larry Fessenden) - ✯✯✯✯½

Saturday

• The Tempest (2010, Julie Taymor) - ✯✯½

• Fish & Cat (2013, Shahram Mokri) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Road to the Racetrack (1991, Jang Sun-woo) - ✯✯✯✯½

• The Postman Always Rings Twice (1981, Bob Rafelson) - ✯✯✯✯

• The Bride! (2026, Maggie Gyllenhaal) - ✯½

Sunday

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

• Disclosure (1994, Barry Levinson) - ✯✯

• Lou Reed’s Berlin (2007, Julian Schnabel) - ✯✯✯✯

• Scott Walker: 30 Century Man (2006, Stephen Kijak) - ✯✯✯½

• Love is the Devil: Study for a Portrait of Francis Bacon (1998, John Maybury) - ✯✯✯

Monday

• Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (1985, Paul Schrader) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• In Between (2016, Maysaloun Hamoud) - ✯✯✯

• The Power of the Dog (2021, Jane Campion) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Keeper (2025, Osgood Perkins) - ✯✯½

• Eileen (2023, William Oldroyd) - ✯✯✯½

Tuesday

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

• Miao Miao (2008, Cheng Hsiao-Tse) - ✯✯✯½

• Flashdance (1983, Adrian Lyne) - ✯✯✯, watched on 35mm

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

Wednesday

• Train to Busan (2016, Yeon Sang-ho) - ✯✯✯½

• Paper Moon (1973, Peter Bogdanovich) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Benjamin Smoke (2000, Jem Cohen and Peter Sillen) - ✯✯✯✯½

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

• Corruption (1983, Roger Watkins) - ✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

Thursday

• Bad Girl Boogey (2022, Alice Maio Mackay) - ✯✯✯

• American Animals (2018, Bart Layton) - ✯✯

• Fresh Kill (1994, Shu Lea Cheang) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Atropia (2025, Hailey Benton Gates) - ✯✯

• Yi Yi (2000, Edward Yang) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

Letterboxd

A lot has happened to me over the past few days. I received a root canal (thank you to all who have donated to my GoFundMe, by the way!), and I got to treat myself to a bit of Vinegar Syndrome’s Halfway to Black Friday sale. So I’ll always find that these past few days have been full of great cinema nonetheless, and it’s what keeps me moving through life, no matter what. I suppose at a certain point, you recognize it all feeling like a reward, because that’s what it all feels like after a point of hardship.

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: Beyond the Hills (2012, Cristian Mungiu)

I think this felt apt to rewatch after seeing that Cristian Mungiu won his second Palme d’Or for his latest film. Beyond its excoriating portrait of religious fanaticism, I think what catches me most about Beyond the Hills is the portrait of queer devotion – especially given the relationship between its two protagonists. Yet, the complicated bind that we’re witnessing only creates something more tragic, for Mungiu understands why Voichița would be reluctant to challenge the system where she’d been raised. Given that this story was based on a real tragedy, it helps humanize the perception of events, which is maybe all the more impressive, because it all feels lived in.

#2: Heaven’s Story (2010, Takahisa Zeze)

I spent nearly five hours with this one after getting my root canal done. It felt appropriate, after being knocked out for most of the day, so I put on a film that I figured was long enough to the point it would pass the time adequately. First, I must note that this film can be found on Amazon Prime (in Canada, at least, I don’t know about anywhere else), and I’m surprised that I found it there. Every minute of this sprawling epic feels like a meditation on death, and the ways in which it captures how deeply we’re affected by its closeness, regardless of our position in life. That it starts with a child’s perspective is one thing, but as these images get more elaborate and violent, it becomes clear that Takahisa Zeze has something special in store for us. This film is really quite something, and I hope more people see it.

#3: Human Lanterns (1982, Sun Chung)

This screenshot that I’ve included here does not capture at all what kind of movie this is. This is maybe the single most violent Shaw Brothers production that I’ve ever seen, and I love every single second of it. And the brand new 4K UHD release put out by Vinegar Syndrome for their Halfway to Black Friday sale really is just something to behold; every minute of this film is as beautiful as it is horrifying. There’s one particularly gory set piece here I don’t think I can quickly get out of my head, after having seen it the first time, either.

#4: Looking for an Angel (1999, Akihiro Suzuki)

As expected with any film that recognizably would be classified as pinku, Looking for an Angel gets everything done quickly – in a little over an hour. Yet, Akihiro Suzuki works within this length to create a portrait of queer longing, especially in a country whose conservative standards never let such people thrive properly. The title feels apts, given that this film is built around that loneliness, but also the desire to find intimacy in a world where such a concept becomes commodified. It’s a heartbreaking work, perhaps not what you’d expect from this realm of pinku, either.

#5: Southern Comfort (1981, Walter Hill)

Between this and The Warriors, I think this is the Walter Hill film that I find more rewarding to come back to. Perhaps that all stems from how Hill’s portrait of the southern Americana just feels no different from being on the battlefield at wartime. This is the kind of movie you can only expect from a nation reeling from the wounds of the Vietnam War, knowing how it has treated its veterans over the years, but also the country’s bloodlust cannibalizing its own.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• Two Seasons, Two Strangers (2025, Sho Miyake) - ✯✯✯✯

• Afterwater (2022, Dane Komljen) - ✯✯✯✯

• Habit (1995, Larry Fessenden) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Human Lanterns (1982, Sun Chung) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Lenny (1974, Bob Fosse) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• The First Lap (2017, Kim Dae-hwan) - ✯✯✯✯

• Brain Sex (1988, Hisayasu Satô) - ✯✯✯✯

Sunday

• The Million Dollar Hotel (2000, Wim Wenders) - ✯✯

• Sex and Lucía (2001, Julio Medem) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Bitter Rice (1949, Giuseppe De Santis) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Outside Noise (2021, Ted Fendt) - ✯✯✯✯

• Horse and Woman and Dog (1990, Hisayasu Satô) - ✯✯✯½

Monday

• The Love That Remains (2025, Hlynur Pálmason) - ✯✯✯½

• My Father’s Shadow (2025, Akinola Davies Jr.) - ✯✯✯✯½

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

• Looking for an Angel (1999, Akihiro Suzuki) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Piaffe (2022, Ann Oren) - ✯✯✯½

• The Sheep Detectives (2026, Kyle Balda) - ✯✯✯✯

• Three Sisters (2020, Lee Seung-won) - ✯✯✯½

• Beyond the Hills (2012, Cristian Mungiu) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Wednesday

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

• This Is Spinal Tap (1984, Rob Reiner) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Heaven’s Story (2010, Takahisa Zeze) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Southern Comfort (1981, Walter Hill) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Gummo (1997, Harmony Korine) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Strange River (2025, Jaume Claret Muxart) - ✯✯✯½

• Night of the Creeps (1986, Fred Dekker) - ✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

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

Letterboxd

This week, I’ve found myself undergoing a fairly taxing period, perhaps to be expected with grieving within the family. It’s not something that I think anyone should have to experience at such a fast rate, but there’s at least some relief in knowing it’s all over. After all, there’s cinema around to keep you company in these moments, isn’t 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.

Subscribe now

#1: Adaptation. (2002, Spike Jonze)

A decidedly self-conscious work for writers who always feel insecurity. Only seemed appropriate that someone like Charlie Kaufman can make a self-insert into a poignant exploration of the limited experiences that screenwriters filter their world through, to inform their art. That’s only part of the brilliance felt in a movie like Adaptation. at the very least, because we’re seeing that a writer working to adapt to another form – in this case, a book adaptation, would have to change up the rules set in place for themselves. That’s what Charlie Kaufman did here, after all.

#2: Drive My Car (2021, Ryusuke Hamaguchi)

Feel like it goes without saying this is one of the best films of the 2020s, because it explores how art’s healing power has its limitations. After all, we can’t make ourselves understand what we’re going through in life without seeing someone else experience that same pain – yet Hamaguchi finds a way of making it linger. It’s all done through the fashion of a multilingual performance of Uncle Vanya, because we see people from all over the world sharing the same experiences and the same story. I think that’s quite beautiful, especially when Drive My Car is built around this feeling of universality.

#3: Lawrence of Arabia (1962, David Lean)

What else is there to say? This is one of the greatest films ever made. David Lean isn’t really making any ordinary spectacle out of this story, but he’s delving right into the complicated portions that make up one of history’s most confounding figures in T. E. Lawrence. He’s not one to waste much time, either, especially when we’re seeing so much beauty in the desert scenes alone. Though this film becomes all about what more can a man like Lawrence do as an outsider to this land. Everything about this film is just brilliant.

#4: Little Odessa (1994, James Gray)

Maybe not the most refined James Gray production, but it is certainly the one that I find to be the most indicative of his sensibility. I’d underrated this film when I saw it approximately ten years ago, then coming back to it now, I think that Gray’s aspirations to make a Godfather-esque tragedy for the world of Russian Jewish gangsters is felt. And it tells you everything about how Gray sees the world, especially when Brighton Beach is filtered through a Dostoevskian template. And it may be my favourite of Gray’s films.

#5: Mikey and Nicky (1974, Elaine May)

In my eyes, this is Elaine May’s best film – even while its foundation has evidently been broken. Peter Falk and John Cassavetes are incredible to watch as they bounce off one another, but Elaine May knows there’s great vulnerability to these titular characters as they’re always fighting. The volatile nature of this relationship perhaps adds another sense of interiority to the popular gangster genre of the time; though May makes a case for Mikey and Nicky by letting Falk and Cassavetes lay it all out. In this world, even a friendship would quickly turn violent, but it’s the perfect template for deconstructing male vulnerability like she had done in The Heartbreak Kid and A New Leaf prior.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

• The Code (2024, Eugene Kotlyarenko) - ✯✯✯✯

• Lawrence of Arabia (1962, David Lean) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Billie Eilish – Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour (2026, James Cameron and Billie Eilish) - ✯✯✯✯

Saturday

• Caveat (2020, Damian McCarthy) - ✯✯✯½

• The Royal Tenenbaums (2001, Wes Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Giant (1956, George Stevens) - ✯✯✯✯

• Desert Rose (1989, António Reis and Margarida Cordeiro) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Samurai Cop (1991, Amir Shervan) - ✯✯✯✯

Sunday

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

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

• Obsession (2025, Curry Barker) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Ossos (1997, Pedro Costa) - ✯✯✯½

• Change of Life (1966, Paulo Rocha) - ✯✯✯✯

• Samurai X: Trust & Betrayal (1999, Kazuhiro Furuhashi and Akira Shimizu) - ✯✯✯✯

Monday

• Dr. Giggles (1992, Manny Soto) - ✯✯✯½

• Adaptation. (2002, Spike Jonze) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

• Lemonade Blessing (2025, Chris Merola) - ✯✯✯✯

• The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun (2021, Wes Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Tuesday

• Melvin Goes to Dinner (2003, Bob Odenkirk) - ✯✯✯

• Is God Is (2026, Aleshea Harris) - ✯✯✯✯

• Mikey and Nicky (1976, Elaine May) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

Wednesday

• Dangerous Animals (2025, Sean Byrne) - ✯✯½

• Two Lovers (2008, James Gray) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Little Odessa (1994, James Gray) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009, Wes Anderson) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Drive My Car (2021, Ryusuke Hamaguchi) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Land of the Dead (2005, George A. Romero) - ✯✯✯½

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

• Free Fall (2014, György Pálfi) - ✯✯✯

• I Love Boosters (2026, Boots Riley) - ✯✯✯✯

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

Letterboxd

I had been reading somewhere that procrastination is not always a sign of low productivity, but it can even be a trauma response. These past few weeks have been a lot for someone like me to take in, to the point that it’d even caused me to delay several reviews and even an article about everything unfolding. Yet, I’m still able to make my way through these lists as it’s something I always have fun doing for you, my readers. It’s where I’ve most felt at home, aside from at the movie theatre. So once again, I thank you for your patience.

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: 20th Century Women (2016, Mike Mills)

I remember when I first saw 20th Century Women approximately ten years ago; I was nearing the end of my teenage years, and something about it hit for me. Perhaps it’s the fact that it was where I really was coming to terms with being an adult, and trying to find my own footing in a fast-moving world. Looking back at the movie now, it’s still just as introspective and warm as ever. Knowing the kinds of movies that Mike Mills has made over the years, it’s this one that sticks with me most for encapsulating the ways we understand the many facets that build it. And it feels like a love letter, just as Beginners had done, for people he loved dearly.

#2: Die Tomorrow (2017, Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit)

I think that this film has, quite oddly, made me feel less anxious about death. Perhaps it might be the fact I’ve watched lots of films about death ever since I’d attended my uncle’s funeral this past week, and soon had to enter the wake of my grandmother. Everything about Die Tomorrow gets right down to how several people end up seeing death, whether it be close or far. Yet, there’s no anxiety in acknowledging the inevitable, but the desire to find your own drive to live in that finite amount of time. The short running time perhaps allows the movie to feel like a wake-up call, and I think that’s quite beautiful.

#3: Grave of the Fireflies (1988, Isao Takahata)

Obviously, this is one of the most heartbreaking animated films ever made. And yet, I’ve also reached the point where Grave of the Fireflies doesn’t make me cry anymore. That’s not because I don’t at least feel great sadness from watching the movie, but rather a way of coming to terms with fate. It sounds pessimistic, maybe, but I think there’s still something beautiful about how Isao Takahata utilizes the medium of animation to speak to young audiences about their attitudes. He’s disagreed with the anti-war classification all his life, but it all centers on the overt pride that has kept Japan fighting a losing battle, especially as it affects younger people.

#4: Rushmore (1998, Wes Anderson)

Not going to be the last time I’ll write about Rushmore for this newsletter, of that I’m certain. This is my favourite Wes Anderson movie, not just because it’s the one that makes me laugh the most, but for the ways that Max Fischer is both insufferable and endearing. He reminds us of what kind of person we used to be in school once upon a time, and that’s why we stick with him. He’s young, idealistic, but even ahead of himself as he’s the most extracurricular student at the titular school. We’ve all been there once, haven’t we?

#5: Yeelen (1987, Souleymane Cissé)

Feels astonishing to be able to see this Malian masterpiece on the big screen after having first caught it via a pirated copy on YouTube. Unfortunately, my level of expertise regarding African cinema remains at a minimum, and that’s something I aim to fix within the coming days. Yet, with the help of an introduction from Ashley Clark, I think it only feels appropriate to say that Yeelen, for as much as it builds itself upon myths, just delivers an entertaining ride. Not just as a portrait of precolonial Africa, but Cissé forces us to grapple with our understanding of history – especially after generations of being fed the colonialist lie.

The Complete Day-by-Day Log

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

Friday

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

• Tras-os-Montes (1976, Margarida Cordeiro and António Reis) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• From Dusk Till Dawn (1996, Robert Rodriguez) - ✯✯✯½, watched on 35mm

Saturday

• Livid (2011, Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury) - ✯✯✯

• Acto da Primavera (1963, Manoel de Oliveira) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• This Is Not a Burial, It’s a Resurrection (2019, Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

Sunday

• When the Rain Falls (2022, Shusuke Kaneko) - ✯✯

• The True Beauty of Being Bitten by a Tick (2025, Pete Ohs) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Yeelen (1987, Souleymane Cissé) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Ana (1982, Margarida Cordeiro and António Reis) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Rosemary’s Baby (1968, Roman Polanski) - ✯✯✯✯✯

Monday

• 20th Century Women (2016, Mike Mills) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• Big Time Gambling Boss (1968, Kosaku Yamashita) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Looking for Mr. Perfect (2003, Ringo Lam) - ✯✯✯

• The Last Picture Show (1971, Peter Bogdanovich) - ✯✯✯✯✯

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

Tuesday

• Tahara (2020, Olivia Peace) - ✯✯✯

• Wandering Ginza Butterfly (1972, Kazuhiko Yamaguchi) - ✯✯✯✯½

• Die Tomorrow (2017, Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit) - ✯✯✯✯½

Wednesday

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

• Grave of the Fireflies (1988, Isao Takahata) - ✯✯✯✯✯

• I Swear (2025, Kirk Jones) - ✯✯✯✯

• Milk & Serial (2024, Curry Barker) - ✯✯✯✯

Thursday

• Nightwatch (1997, Ole Bornedal) - ✯✯✯½

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

• The Snow Woman (1968, Tokuzo Tanaka) - ✯✯✯✯½

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

Letterboxd

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.

Subscribe now

#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.

Letterboxd

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.

Letterboxd

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.

Subscribe now

#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.

Letterboxd

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.

Letterboxd

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.

Subscribe now

#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.

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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.

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#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.

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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.

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#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.

Letterboxd

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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