MaximoT-9

Dead Man's Wire is a masterclass in tonal balance-tense, hilarious, and deeply unsettling. Gus Van Sant crafts a 1970s-set crime drama that feels both timeless and urgently relevant. From the first scene, I was hooked. The pacing is flawless, the atmosphere electric, and the emotional stakes never let up.

Bill Skarsgård delivers a performance that's nothing short of Oscar-worthy. His portrayal of Tony Kiritsis is manic, tragic, and disturbingly charismatic. But what truly surprised me was Al Pacino. In a brief but unforgettable role as the arrogant father of the hostage, Pacino channels a Southern drawl and a venomous detachment that adds a layer of surreal comedy to the film. His phone call scene-mocking his own son while refusing to apologize-is one of the most chilling and absurd moments I've seen on screen this year.

Van Sant's direction is razor-sharp. He allows moments of improvisation (the "milk with ice" detail was apparently ad-libbed!) that add authenticity and spontaneity. The production design perfectly captures the grainy, analog tension of the era, and the soundtrack-especially the radio segments-grounds the film in a media landscape that feels eerily familiar.

What elevates Dead Man's Wire is its refusal to simplify. It doesn't ask for pity, nor does it glorify madness. Instead, it exposes a system so broken that even the most outrageous acts begin to make sense. It's a film that laughs at the absurdity of injustice while never losing sight of its human cost.

This is Van Sant at his most daring, most political, and most emotionally precise. A cinematic triumph.

Billy Knight isn't just a film-it's a cinematic séance. Alec Griffen Roth's debut unfolds like a box of unfinished scripts, each one whispering a fragment of legacy, grief, and creative yearning. As Alex stumbles upon his late father's forgotten screenplays, we're invited into a journey that doesn't seek closure, but ritual.

Al Pacino embodies Billy Knight not as a mentor who teaches, but as a spectral presence who unsettles. His performance is magnetic, elusive, and deeply human. Patrick Schwarzenegger and Charlie Heaton carry the weight of youth searching for meaning, but it's Pacino who turns every scene into an emotional archive.

This film doesn't rely on spectacle-it breathes through silence, through glances that don't resolve, through the ache of stories left untold. Billy Knight speaks to those of us who believe that every correction is a symbolic act of repair, and that cinema doesn't always answer-it witnesses.

A quiet masterpiece. A ritual of remembrance. A script we didn't know we needed.