Daniel_PGarcia

My first encounter with Superman was at age 9, watching Justice League: The Animated Series. Then came Superman Returns (2006) by Bryan Singer, and three scenes have stayed with me ever since: the airplane rescue, the bullet to the eye, and when he lifts a city laced with kryptonite. That was my gateway into the myth.

Years later, Man of Steel (2013) gave us an unforgettable god-like battle-what Zack Snyder does with the camera during action scenes is incredibly immersive. Still, its bland script and an uninspiring Superman didn't fully move me.

But if there's a Superman I truly enjoy, it's Richard Donner's. The first two films are sincere, thrilling gems. Now in 2025, James Gunn gives us his own version: a more human, more approachable Superman... but also a less memorable one.

I didn't leave the cinema entirely satisfied-perhaps because earlier that morning, I had watched Afternoon of Solitude by Albert Serra, and it was still echoing in my mind. Still, I recognize several strengths: the cast works. David Corenswet feels like a more human Superman, Rachel Brosnahan brings a spirited Lois who doesn't live in the hero's shadow, and Nicholas Hoult plays an interesting Lex-even if I like the actor more than the character (after seeing him shine in Renfield, The Order, Nosferatu, and Juror Nº2, I expected no less).

The real scene-stealer is Mr. Terrific (Edi Gathegi). What presence, what charisma. Also, the movie flies by thanks to its brisk pace. The soundtrack fits well-classic Gunn choices-and it even made me wish I had a friend like this Superman: a good guy straight out of a comic book.

The downside? The film feels recycled-a collage of things Gunn has already done. Some dialogues veer into soap opera territory. With so many characters, the protagonist sometimes gets lost. The story juggles too many ideas without fully committing to any. The action scenes are fine but nowhere near as impressive as in Man of Steel. The CGI is uneven, and the cinematography lacks striking, lasting images.

In short, Gunn delivers a warmer, more grounded take on the hero, with a solid cast and strong pacing. Corenswet makes for a human Superman, Brosnahan shines as Lois, and Mr. Terrific oozes charisma. But the film feels recycled, with weak dialogue, a scattered narrative, and little visual power. It entertains, but doesn't move or wow like other versions.

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.