OttoVonB

I'm no fan of the Western genre. It's not my history being idealized onscreen, and most classical films of the genre feel very naive by today's standards. Despite this bias, a few films still rise to the top of the heap as bonafide masterpieces by any measure. High Noon is often regarded as such.

Much has been made of the film's main conceit: a race against a real-time clock for an aging sheriff to gather a posse in time for the arrival of an evil villain with a grudge. It turns out most town residents aren't nearly as grateful for his years of service as he might have hoped. The clock ticks down to the inevitable confrontation...

First, I'm happy to report that the film is a masterclass in classical editing, keeping pace with the in-story passing of time. It also wisely omits the obligatory comical asides in service of a steady build-up of tension. Some have criticized what they perceive to be an excessively abrupt showdown, but it felt earned and on-point. The film never betrayed its conceit and made the most of it.

There was also an interesting exploration, especially for the time the film was made, of how cowardly we can all be when called upon to defend what we have. You'd think Gary Cooper's marshal would eventually rally the whole town to his cause with a rousing red-white-and-blue speech, but things unfold much less heroically, and the story feels a lot more real and human for it. Props for the surprising (for the time) absence of cheap sentimentality.

Now is the bit where I agree with two sore points other reviewers here have occasionally commented on. The first is the almost comical age difference between Gary Cooper (51 and looking 65) and his leading lady, Grace Kelly (23 and looking 16). Good grief! During the opening wedding scene I thought he was giving away his granddaughter... The second shortcoming was the repeated use of the title song. It'll either charm you or make you want to claw your eardrums at. Sadly I belong to the latter category.

Despite these two niggles, you're looking at an indisputable pinnacle of its genre, with incredibly effective suspense and gorgeous cinematography to boot!

Another day, another messianic blockbuster to « save cinema », a state of affairs which, given Dune's themes, is rich in irony. Denis Villeneuve's DUNE part 2 continues the story of Paul Atreides as he joins the nomadic Fremen to wage war against his arch-enemies the Harkonen, hailed by many as their messiah and aided in that by his supernaturally gifted mother.

In the age of hyperbole, Dune part 2 has been hailed as this age's far superior alternative to Star Wars and Lord of the Rings, whilst also being decried as a shameful betrayal of its source material by purists. Predictably, the truth is somewhere in between. Where Lord of the Rings comparisons prove apt, is in the fortuitous occurrence of a gifted, resourceful filmmaker clearly in love with the source novel(s), and a very evident desire not to compromise in his artistic vision, hence the daring gambit to split the first book into two non-simultaneously shot films. The success of part 1 paved the way for part 2, itself promising an eventual follow-up or coda to the whole story. Like Jackson before him, Villeneuve is grappling with thematically dense material, and as in all adaptations, choices must be made, most of them - as was the case with the Rings films - for the better. Conflict, that crucial ingredient for effective cinematic storytelling, is emphasized on all personal fronts: between Paul and his vengeful mother (played by a scenery-chewing Rebecca Ferguson), between Paul and Zendaya's Fremen Chani, and in Paul's reluctance to accept the path laid out before him. The dubious nature of the prophecy and the weight of the evil it will cause Paul to commit is much more foregrounded here than in the original Dune book, something author Frank Herbert clearly cared about, since he leaned heavily into it in his follow-up, Dune Messiah. Similarities with the Rings trilogy extend to a gifted and committed cast, as well as technical credits that are all at the very peak of what the industry can offer in this day and age, with particular kudos to cinematographer Greig Fraser and production designer Patrice Vermette.

In terms of sheer spectacle, part 2 ramps things up ant the showstopper moments are truly inspired. An opening face-off with Harkonen shock-troops is tense and otherworldly-feeling, Paul's first attempt at riding a sand-worm will have you on the edge of your seat coughing up sand, and the ending is a thing of terrible, daring beauty. These set-pieces owe their effectiveness in no small part to quieter moments Villeneuve nails, such as Lady Jessica's scheming, the surreal awakening of Paul's gestating sister Alya, and frankly anything involving Javier Bardem's fundamentalist Stilgar.

Where comparisons with the Rings trilogy fall apart is in areas where this film - and its predecessor - fall short. The films clearly function as two halves of a whole, part 1 lacking a satisfying close. For all the visual splendor on display - and it is consequential, IMAX or no - and the immersive sound design, Dune part 2 suffers from strange rhythmic hiccups at times. Some narrative threads are given room to breathe (particularly the most important one of Paul integrating the Fremen), while others feel rushed, chiefly the central romance, to make room for scenes that add little in the way of the emotional core of the film, such as pretty much anything involving the Imperial family (a wasted Florence Pugh and a badly miscast Christopher Walken) or Bene Gesserit machinations. These are moments where you feel the filmmakers' desire to let you drown in this rich universe, and the central story suffers as a result. One could also argue that, unlike in moments of part 1, part 2 never makes you feel the scorching heat of Arrakis' deserts, and the Harkonen aren't quite as perverse as you wish they'd be. The real low-point, for me, was Hans Zimmer's uninspired score, the positive reaction to which has me sincerely baffled. As an extension of the sound design, it is sometimes effective, but in its utter failure to generate more than one passably memorable theme, it is an absolute waste. Think of what John Williams conjured up for that galaxy far far away, or Howard Shore's colossal scores for Middle Earth... in such venerable company, Zimmer's effort falls way short.

Thank God then for what does work, and there is so much to praise. These two films have stoked my interest in the Dune mythos, something I was, until now whole unfamiliar with. They deliver a phenomenal level of spectacle, the likes of which we only get too rarely. They push the boundaries in many respects, be it in the aforementioned cinematography, or in the special effects, which are not only seamless but also convey weight, presence and scale the degrees seldom seen before. The films also showcase many of the great screen talents of the moment. Chalamet owns every facet of the character and finally makes you understand what all the fuss was about, and Austin Butler does a wonderful Stellan Skarsgard impression. Acting-wise, the plaudits mostly go to Rebecca Ferguson, absolutely chilling, and to the wonderful Javier Bardem, whose presence, commitment and charisma no meme can dampen.

Dune part 2 is not the greatest film of all time, but it is a very welcome reprieve from cold filmmaking by committee that most of the prevailing franchises had gotten us used to of late. Like the recent Oppenheimer, it delivers the kind of spectacle you can only expect when a gifted filmmaker is able to deploy massive resources to tell a story they care about and remember to keep audiences emotionally engaged. Hopefully these two films' successes bode well for such productions in years to come.

Lancelot is back, and Camelot is tired. The famed knight of legend wants to put an end to his affair with Queen Guinevere whilst crushing any rumors of improper behavior on her part... and Richard Gere is nowhere in sight!

A look at the other reviews on this sight will have clued you in to the fact that this is as far from a Hollywood take as you can get on an old story of myth. Lancelot - and Bresson's filmmaking in general - can be described as minimal, clinical, cold, slow-burn... It is all those things, and yet it isn't. The very mannered, almost robotic performances, have a transe-like nature about them, and when a powerful emotion finally is allowed to burst forth, as with a sad look of hopelessness from Lancelot, or yearning from his Queen... It hits all the harder for it. Bresson strips back the elements we'd expect from such a story, but chooses instead to focus on gestures, repeated nearly to the point of a Buddhist mantra, until they either break the viewer or plunge them into a cathartic realm.

I still don't know whether I "liked" this film, whether I enjoyed it... but it was nearly impossible to look away, and the precision of the craft on display made the experience rather unique.

If this sounds like something you'd enjoy, consider deferring your gratification (or frustration) and check out the superior and more approachable Au Hasard Balthazar or A Man Escaped first, then come back here.

This was one hell of a strange ride!