Daniel_PGarcia

Winner of the Golden Shell at the 2024 San Sebastián Film Festival, this documentary film, written and directed by Albert Serra, hypnotically and soberly immerses us into the world of Peruvian bullfighter Andrés Roca Rey. The film patiently and meticulously observes his profession, his rituals, his subtle gestures, his silence, and his constant exposure to danger-all under a contemplative gaze that avoids both glorification and judgment.

The title feels very fitting, as it not only reflects the symbolic confrontation between man and beast but also suggests a broader reflection on vulnerability, tradition, and death. Serra does not indulge in absolute idealization of the bullfighter: he also gives space to the bull, observing it with respect, turning it into another character one that, as always, is destined to perish.

This is something many bullfighting films forget or evade: here, the animal is not just an obstacle or a symbol but a real, living creature that breathes, feels, and suffers. And this balance is the documentary's greatest strength it is neither pro-bullfighting nor anti-bullfighting. It inhabits a neutral, contemplative space where the viewer can admire the bullfighter while simultaneously questioning the nature of this "spectacle."

The cinematography is stunning-every shot is meticulously crafted, pulling you into its hypnotic rhythm. The nearly silent narration, wrapped in immersive sound design, places us in the bullring, in the dressing room as he suits up, in the pre- and post-fight conversations. The first half felt visually and emotionally powerful, while the second half becomes somewhat repetitive. Trimming about 15 minutes could have made it more accessible to general audiences.

Still, this is a valuable, provocative, and beautifully ambiguous documentary.

In summary, Albert Serra delivers a hypnotic and respectful documentary that portrays bullfighter Roca Rey without mythologizing him while also giving a voice to the bull. The film observes without judgment, with austere, intimate, and sonorous direction. Though its second half falls into repetition, its neutral and contemplative gaze makes it a provocative and unusual work.

The first Wes Anderson film I ever watched was The French Dispatch, and that same year I also saw Isle of Dogs. I found both films charming, especially because of Anderson's distinct visual style: perfect symmetry, pastel colors, and set design that looks like a handcrafted model. I was hooked.

Then I saw Asteroid City... and something broke. It felt like more of the same: symmetrical shots, soft palette, overly complex dialogue, and no emotional weight. Even the actors felt robotic. That coldness completely disconnected me.

Later, I watched the short film The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, and to my surprise, I loved it. It was heartfelt, creative, and something I'd gladly rewatch. So, when The Phoenician Scheme premiered this year, I decided to give Anderson another try-even though it didn't make it to theaters in my city.

However, this new film brought back the same sensations I had with Asteroid City. The story revolves around Zsa-Zsa Korda (Benicio Del Toro), a tycoon who survives multiple aerial attacks and decides to leave his fortune to his daughter, Liesl (Mia Threapleton), a nun. To do so, he tests her by hiring a professor-turned-secretary, Bjorn (Michael Cera).

The plot blends multiple elements: father-daughter relationship, espionage, road trip, mystery, and revenge. The script jumps between these themes in a way that can feel overwhelming. At least on a first viewing, I found myself quite lost.

My main issues with the film are the same I had with Asteroid City: overly dense dialogue, uneven pacing, and robotic performances-though I sense that's intentional. It's not that the actors perform poorly; quite the opposite, they adapt quickly to Anderson's cinematic language. The problem is that this language is becoming increasingly hermetic and emotionally distant.

That said, I still admire the impeccable visuals: gorgeous sets, exquisite art direction, and an aesthetic that's unmistakably Anderson's. I also acknowledge that he's an auteur, a frequent guest at festivals like Cannes, with a well-established and respected career.

But after The Phoenician Scheme, I'm starting to question whether exploring more of his recent films still excites me. I do have several of his earlier works on my watchlist, but if they follow the same formula, I fear I'll struggle to connect.

In short, The Phoenician Scheme confirms my doubts about Wes Anderson's recent cinema. Visually flawless, yes, but burdened by dense dialogue, sluggish pacing, and a noticeable lack of emotional engagement. The cast adapts to the director's robotic style, but the story feels disconnected and hard to follow. There are interesting ideas here, but they get lost in the coldness of the style. I struggled to get into it-and even more to stay there.

I'm not really an F1 fan. The reason I watched this movie was because of its director, Joseph Kosinski. The only film of his I'd seen before was Top Gun: Maverick, which I really liked. I skipped Spiderhead because it didn't interest me. So why F1? Because Brad Pitt is in it.

Beyond being a handsome actor, Brad Pitt is a magnetic performer. Ever since I started getting more serious about movies back in 2019, I've always heard about him. I first saw him in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, where he shares the screen with DiCaprio, and since then, I've felt he has something special-a unique naturalness and charisma. He's 60 years old and, like Tom Cruise, has aged incredibly well.

What's the movie about? Sonny Hayes (Brad Pitt) is a veteran F1 driver who, after an accident, retires and ends up competing in minor leagues, wasting money aimlessly. He's superstitious and a bit eccentric. Ruben Cervantes (Javier Bardem), the owner of the struggling APXGP team-on the verge of bankruptcy due to their lack of points-recruits him to mentor young driver Joshua Pearce (Damson Idris), who is talented but inexperienced. Their relationship isn't easy, and part of the conflict revolves around that.

The plot is fairly simple, even predictable at times. I wasn't convinced by the attempt to load the story with too much drama, especially in the dynamic between Sonny and Joshua, which sometimes feels forced. Also, the runtime seemed excessive-it's two and a half hours long, and I think cutting 15 minutes (like Top Gun: Maverick) would have made it tighter. There's a scene toward the end that felt unnecessary, like a redundant epilogue.

But there are also some great things. I loved the casting-in fact, I liked Javier Bardem even more than Pitt himself. His character is charismatic and has a likable charm that balances the drama well. The rest of the cast also delivers. Hans Zimmer's music and the overall soundtrack are excellent. The production design is impressive, but what really blew me away were the races.

Kosinski doesn't disappoint with the action. I don't know how they mounted the cameras on the cars, but the sequences are immersive and thrilling. The engine sounds, the brakes, the crashes-everything feels real and spectacular. I left the theater satisfied, even though I'm not an F1 fan.

In short, F1 doesn't reinvent the wheel, but what it does, it does well. The story is predictable, the drama feels a bit forced, and the runtime could have been shorter. Still, Brad Pitt delivers, Javier Bardem shines with charisma, and Joseph Kosinski's direction dazzles in every race. The on-track immersion is total-sound, editing, and camerawork combine to create a stunning visual experience. For someone who's not into the sport, it's more than enjoyable.