agatalemieux

**Title: Style Over Substance**

*Titane* throws a lot at the screen-body horror, gender identity, trauma, and family dynamics-but it never quite knows what to do with any of it. It feels like a patchwork of ideas borrowed from better films, strung together with shocking, transgressive imagery that exists purely to provoke. While the visuals are striking and Agathe Rousselle delivers a fearless performance, the film lacks emotional depth or narrative coherence. It mistakes chaos for meaning, leaving behind a surface-level spectacle that shocks but rarely resonates. Bold, yes. Substantial? Not so much.

Jonathan Glazer's "Zone of Interest" is a haunting exploration of the banality of evil and a quiet indictment of complacency. With restrained direction, distanced cinematography, and extraordinarily nuanced performances, the film immerses viewers in a disquieting world where unspeakable unseen (but well heard) horrors are juxtaposed against the ordinariness of daily life. It's a film that lingers, challenging contemporary Western audiences to confront their own passive complicity in the face of global tragedies.

Set on the periphery of Auschwitz, the film focuses not on the atrocities themselves but on the family living in unnerving proximity to them. Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel) and his wife Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) embody chilling normalcy. They raise their children, tend to their garden, and entertain guests, all within earshot of one of history's greatest horrors. Glazer's choice to focus on this family rather than the victims is deliberate and unsettling, inviting viewers to reflect on the human capacity for detachment and denial.

Glazer's direction is a masterclass in restraint. Rather than showing the atrocities head-on, he places them in the periphery-sometimes literally. The distant hum of trains, the faint echo of screams, and the muted smoke rising in the background are ever-present reminders of the horrors happening just out of frame. This indirect approach forces the audience to grapple with the disconnect between the idyllic domestic life of the Höss family and the inhumanity unfolding nearby.

By avoiding explicit depictions of violence, Glazer shifts the focus to the moral and psychological implications of complacency. The film doesn't preach or moralize; instead, it presents a stark, unembellished reality, trusting the audience to draw their own conclusions. This restraint amplifies the film's impact, as the absence of graphic imagery makes the horror feel both omnipresent and unbearably real.

Cinematographer Lukasz Zal employs an almost clinical approach to frame the story. The static, long-take carefully composed shots, created via 10 cameras running at once without crew present, create a sense of detachment that mirrors the Höss family's own disconnection from the atrocities surrounding them. This visual language keeps the audience at arm's length, forcing them to observe rather than engage emotionally.

The house, with its meticulously maintained garden and pristine interiors, is captured with an almost architectural precision. The sterile beauty of these shots contrasts starkly with the invisible violence outside its walls. It's as though the camera, like the Höss family, refuses to acknowledge the horrors directly, amplifying the unease.

Zal's use of natural lighting and muted colors further reinforces the film's understated aesthetic. The visuals are not designed to overwhelm but to unsettle, creating an atmosphere where the ordinary feels profoundly wrong. This approach underscores the film's central theme: the terrifying ease with which people can normalize the unacceptable.

The performances in *Zone of Interest* are as restrained and nuanced as the film's direction and cinematography. Christian Friedel and Sandra Hüller deliver chilling portrayals of a couple so absorbed in their domestic lives that they seem willfully blind to the atrocities outside their home.

Friedel's Rudolf is a picture of compartmentalization. He moves seamlessly between his roles as loving father, dutiful husband, and efficient camp commandant, his demeanor never betraying a hint of inner conflict. It's a performance that captures the terrifying banality of evil, showing how monstrous acts can coexist with mundane routines.

Hüller's Hedwig is equally compelling. She is the epitome of bourgeois entitlement, blissfully enjoying the privileges her husband's position affords her. Her pride in their home and her insistence on maintaining appearances speak volumes about her priorities. Hüller conveys a quiet complicity, her character's willful ignorance serving as a mirror for the audience's own potential apathy.

The supporting cast, including the children, further underscores the normalization of horror. Their carefree innocence, untouched by the realities just beyond their garden, is a sobering reminder of how deeply denial can take root.

The film's understated approach culminates in a quietly devastating ending. Without revealing specifics, Glazer crafts a conclusion that reframes the story's themes in a contemporary context. It's a subtle yet powerful reminder that complacency and detachment are not relics of the past but enduring facets of human behavior.

By refusing to offer easy answers or resolutions, the ending leaves the audience with a lingering sense of unease. It forces viewers to reflect not just on the events depicted in the film but on their own lives and the ways in which they may be complicit in ignoring or enabling injustices in today's world.

While its slow pace and subtle storytelling may not appeal to all viewers, those willing to engage with its quiet power will find *Zone of Interest* to be a deeply rewarding experience. It's a film that doesn't just depict the past but holds a mirror to the present, challenging audiences to confront their own potential for apathy and denial.

In the end, *Zone of Interest* is less about the horrors of Auschwitz and more about the human capacity for detachment-a theme that resonates as profoundly today as it did then. It's a film that demands patience but offers profound rewards for those willing to give it the time to unfold.

13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi is a visually intense but emotionally hollow experience. Michael Bay's signature explosive style dominates the film, prioritizing action sequences over character development or meaningful storytelling.

While the real-life events at its core are harrowing and important, the film does little to explore the complexities of the situation or the people involved. The soldiers feel more like generic action heroes than fully realized individuals, which undermines the emotional weight of their ordeal.

Bay's preference for spectacle results in an overlong runtime filled with relentless gunfire and shaky moral clarity. By the end, the film feels more like a video game than a thoughtful tribute to the lives lost.