I_Ailurophile

I can't argue with the high esteem that Disney, Pixar, DreamWorks, or Sony have earned with their 3D animation, including not least their most recent projects like 'Encanto,' 'Puss in Boots: The last wish,' or 'Spider-Man: Into the SpiderVerse.' Even at that I've fond myself still fond with the extreme detail and vibrant visuals that remain possible in predominantly 2D animation, exemplified in Japanese productions like those of Hosoda Mamoru and Studio Chizu ('Belle') or Shinkai Makoto ('Your name.'). This is to say nothing of the utmost splendor that is possible in the medium of videogames; 'The legend of Zelda: Tears of the kingdom' is astonishingly beautiful. Be all that as it may, 'Flow' ('Straume' in Latvian) may boast the most incredible animation I've ever seen.

It may be true that characters (animals) and a few other active elements claim a smidgen less detail in their models, yet what these lack in detail they make up for with gratifying, subtle texture, smart shading, and stupendously fluid, realistic movement. It's readily evident that the filmmakers spent a great deal of time studying every species seen here, and perfecting their representation, because time and again across these eighty-odd minutes I was positively chuffed by how Real the central cat is in particular, among all others. As a huge animal lover, and an ailurophile above all, the behavior, movement, and expressions of the creatures here is nothing less than phenomenal - to say nothing of the vocalizations assigned to each, which are music to my ears, and which certainly caught the attention of my own felines.

Yet is it not the case that the animals are outshone in this picture? The environments and effects here are so gorgeous that it's not easy to put into words. There yet remains a sufficient division from true film footage of our real world that it's clear the world of 'Flow' is not ours, yet I dare say the grass, trees, flowers, statues, man-made structures, and other sights herein are as photorealistic as animation could provide without genuinely being photorealistic. It's not jut the animals that benefited from so much care in the development phase, for everything from how plants move according to the weather, to the shifting of lighting and shadow with the movement of the sun across the sky, to clouds are all plainly stunning. And has water ever looked better, and more realistic, in any animation or videogame, than it does here? This includes not just its basic appearance, but reflections, movement, its transparency, the nuances in how it flows, and more. In every single capacity the audience is given a world that completely immerses us, and we wish we could explore this setting inch by inch for all our lives.

Granted, it's worth observing how readily the feature tugs on the heartstrings. Any viewer with a strong sense of empathy and compassion, anyone who is moved by storytelling, knows that it's not necessary for a piece of fiction to involve humans, or dialogue, to engage us and tell a compelling story. Whether or not one is specifically enamored of animals (and more specifically cats) as I am, the sense of heartrending danger and tension is very real right from the moment the water begins to rise, and there are times when the movie genuinely becomes notably harder to watch. This is part and parcel of narrative fiction, however, and it's just the foundation. Between the natural behaviors that our characters demonstrate, and some fragment of human-like intelligence and emotion that is ascribed to them (hey, it's still fiction, after all, and it's not outright anthropomorphism), 'Flow' ranges from thrilling and gripping, to sad and heart-breaking, to wonderfully cute, to delightfully funny, to inspiring. With a fabulous variety of critters becoming a part of the coterie as the minutes tick by, it's very easy to become invested in the tale of animals coming together to survive in a world from which humans have mysteriously disappeared, and in which a monumental flood consumes the land.

All this is to say nothing of the thoughtful sound effects (not just animals' vocalizations). The cinematography is unfailingly smooth, fast-paced, and vibrant, keeping up with the proceedings at every juncture. And the original score brought to us by filmmaker Gints Zilbalodis with Rihards Zalupe is an absolute treasure, perfectly capturing every changing mood as the plot progresses. I'm actually aghast that the music hasn't received more recognition, for while the themes are fairly simple in their ambient meanderings, the complement is exquisite. From darker and more brooding phrases, to those more lighthearted, to ones that altogether inspire awe and wonder alongside the visuals and storytelling, I rather think the score is an underappreciated masterstroke that deserves far more attention, just like the title at large. Honestly, it can't be overstated how superbly well made this is from every angle. And still I keep coming back to the animation, and the immense care put into depicting the animals. What a joy!

Personal preferences vary, and this won't necessarily meet with equal favor among all comers. For my part I couldn't be more pleased with how excellent 'Flow' is, and to try to speak at even greater length about it would only result in me going in circles and tripping over my words. As far as I'm concerned this is all but a must-see, and I'm happy to give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

Mark this as one of those films that apparently got released but which I never heard of until, some time later, I came across it by chance while looking at the credits of someone involved (Celia Rose Gooding, for the record). This is perhaps a bit curious since there are at least a couple notable names among the cast (Dermot Mulroney and Mena Suvari); maybe it's a little less curious as we observe that it's only the second effort of James Rowe as a filmmaker, for newcomers don't often get big press. I sat to watch with no foreknowledge or particular expectations, and therefore surely the clearest head that I could, so how is 'Breakwater,' actually?

I look forward to seeing Rowe grow as a writer and director, and may he impress in the future. It's not that this movie does anything drastically wrong. It's that there's nothing really special or noteworthy about it, and it plays so safely within established crime drama-thriller territory that it mostly just sails on by unremarked, and any dings in the factory-made chassis that rub us the wrong way become extra glaring in the process. Scenes, characterizations, and dialogue range from rather lifeless and dull - plucked straight from the pages of a "connect the dots" crime flick how-to manual - to gawky and almost cringe-inducing, as stilted and awkward in Rowe's administration as boyish protagonist Dovey is meant to be as a character. The overall story is suitably engaging, but also doesn't specifically stand out at all, itself coming off as the assemblage of bits and pieces the filmmaker pulled together from disparate points of inspiration (surely including TV movies) without requiring major creativity on his part. And though I think the actors give apt performances, it's not like they especially shine, or even could under the circumstances, least of all as Rowe's direction is mostly as common as his script, if not also bland.

It takes more than one-third of the length before the first real jolt of violence provides a small spark of vitality, and before Rowe shows some cleverness in his writing. In fairness, maybe I shouldn't judge that first portion so harshly, for the remainder does stand a tad more sturdily as the tale turns darker. Then again, it's not as if the aspects that initially gnaw at us go away, including a romance that feels a smidgen forced (if a man and a woman share the screen, they MUST fall in love, didn't you know?), and production values so crisp and modern that they serve to somewhat sterilize the would-be seediness of the proceedings. I find myself unconvinced by how the plot is developed, and additional backstory and twists added in; becoming "sturdier" does not mean the whole is perfectly sturdy. Sure, in general the picture is well made, and there are some moments - mostly in the last third or so - that I would even describe as "very good" as all elements come together more sharply, and with greater potency, and more wit. I just wish that such verbiage could be applied to a more significant percentage of these ninety-six minutes, because all told, the strength is too variable to earn substantial commendation.

I don't dislike 'Breakwater.' Actually, I want to like it more than I do. It's fine, and satisfactorily enjoyable as something that can be watched a bit passively. It's just that "fine," "satisfactory," and "passive" is not what we tend to want from cinema, and if that's the first and final impression that a title makes, then its lasting value leaves a bit to be desired. Check this out if you like, and may you find it a more fully absorbing experience than I did; I wish nothing but the best for all involved. Just don't go in expecting a revelation, and maybe that's the best way to appreciate Rowe's sophomore effort.

F. W. Murnau remains one of the greatest filmmakers to ever live, and his 'Nosferatu' of 1922 is an absolutely essential horror classic that continues to hold up tremendously and surpass countless would-be successors. I'm also a huge fan of Werner Herzog's remake of 1979, a low-key but stupendously atmospheric dirge of death and undying that still stands as a great achievement in an already stellar career of both fiction and non-fiction. Many have been the adaptations and riffs on Bram Stoker's 'Dracula,' for that matter, and some others have been all but equally terrific - E. Elias Merhige's 'Shadow of the vampire,' Jess Franco's 'Count Dracula' of 1970, Francis Ford Coppola's iteration of 1992, and many others. It's safe to say that I had very high expectations of another interpretation in the hands of the same esteemed director who gave us 'The witch,' and 'The lighthouse.' I have not been let down. Right from the start Robert Eggers' own 'Nosferatu' is firmly engaging and raptly absorbing, and I'm all so pleased that the man has so ably continued the celebrated legacy of cinema's vampiric tradition. Frankly, I think this is perfect.

It's necessary to extend, in the manner one is able, all the effusive praise of which this picture is deserving, though for as comprehensive as the list is, it would be far easier to delineate any subjective criticisms. It has been noted for its exquisite visual experience, and after only a fraction of the runtime has elapsed I am indeed so entranced that I can't help but feel anger at the prospect of any other contemporary release receiving the honors this has earned. A muted color palette of drained hues lends to the otherworldly look and feel of the presentation alongside breathtakingly gorgeous filming locations, and a production design that is plainly stunning. The costume design is a sight for sore eyes, and no less so the hair and makeup; the more gnarly and far-out the vanity artists are in their contributions, effecting the progression of the plot, the more inescapably captivating it is. I wonder if it's not the case that Eggers has further refined his craft in the years he has been active, for his shot composition at all times is immaculate and inspired; moreover, the careful, deliberate, thoughtful patience he demonstrates in orchestrating scenes only ever heightens the dread ambience of unease about the proceedings. From soft, smart, moody lighting, to Jarin Blaschke's crisp, vivid, absolutely impeccable cinematography, the fundamental appearance of this feature is nothing less than phenomenal. And that's to say nothing of stunts and practical effects, or the sparingly employed digital wizardry that is flawlessly stitched into the image at select junctures.

Yet for as utterly brilliant as all those visuals are, and expansive and paramount, they be but the foundation of 'Nosferatu.' Make no mistake: this is a horror film, saturated through and through with that unsettling aura that is so expertly manifested through the visions to greet us, and Eggers' shrewd, judicious pacing. His screenplay is just as attentively considered, however, with measured scene writing so ponderous that each passing moment in and of itself rather feels like the achingly slow, mesmerizing toll of the most ominous bell you could ever hear. Each scene in turn is, compared to most any other modern movie, light and kind of outwardly empty in terms of what it shows us, yet that is only so that the irreproachably keen focus on the necessary elements can draw us in all the more, including the very particular, imaginative, and almost poetic dialogue that is given to every character (Orlok not least). The result is simply incredible, letting each beat land with heavy, gnawing impact as the saga unfolds. We see this just as surely in the performances that our stars turn in; among all the other respected cast members, including Ralph Ineson and Willem Dafoe, it can't be overstated how magnificent the principals are. Nicholas Hoult proves time and again across a wide variety of roles and genres how magnificent an actor he is, and the nervous terror he carries here as Thomas is unnerving. I dare say Lily-Rose Depp, even with fewer credits to date and lesser visibility, stands toe to toe with or even exceeds her father just in consideration only of her portrayal here of Ellen - an increasingly harried, frantic, and mad display so intense and complete in its dissolution of the self that scant few comparisons come to mind (one of them being Isabelle Adjani in Andrzej Zulawski's prized 'Possession,' one of the highest compliments I could give). And as to Bill Skarsgård, well, what can one say except that his performance as Orlok is totally marvelous? To read of the significant preparation that Skarsgård underwent for the role, let alone the lengthy makeup he endured for each day of filming, only further speaks to his commitment, and I regret not paying the actor any mind heretofore. Between the physicality he adopts, and his tormented manner of speaking, Skarsgård arguably had no need of the prosthetics to become truly, terrifyingly monstrous.

After all, "monstrous" is a key word over more than two hours. "Haunted" is another, and "haunting," for they aptly describe not just Hoult, and Depp, and Skarsgård, and the visuals, but the unyielding core of this title and the emotions it elicits. Throughout all of cinema around the world the horror genre has produced bounteous fruit, but relatively few are those flicks that can evoke in the viewer a reaction so deep, intimate, visceral, and powerful as to truly earn that label, "horror." I would suggest, as other examples, David Cronenberg's 'The fly,' Neil Marshall's 'The descent,' Christophe Gans' 'Silent Hill,' and the choice few best in the Godzilla franchise, among select others. Eggers' 'Nosferatu' counts among them. Eggers' realization of the story of Count Orlok is rooted in folklore and cinematic tradition of vampires, yes, but the version here is so ghastly and chilling - and varied - that it dexterously weaves in other flavors and subgenres. We in the audience also benefit from the nightmare of psychological horror, and the creeping death of natural horror; the familiar territory of the creature feature, and the dark whimsy of supernatural horror, including the notion of an innocent succumbing to evil and efforts to fight back; the very personal and upfront wretchedness of exorcism pieces, and the tragic, dramatic, realist horror of lives torn asunder and a society crumbling; and, perhaps most ingeniously of all, shades of the inhuman and incomprehensible aberrations of cosmic horror, condensed and encapsulated in a singular figure. For good measure, add a touch of body horror. Amidst all the thousands of movies I've ever watched, it's a comparatively small number that has ever sent a chill down my spine and made me cringe the way that this does. From the smallest ways in which Orlok interacts with Thomas or Ellen, and terrorizes specific persons, to the broader reach, despair, and madness that comes with his stretching shadow, this picture is as disquieting as it is riveting. When one pauses to further consider all the minute details that Eggers wrote into the characters and their histories, and the influence drawn from concepts in real life myths and legends, all the most grandiose verbiage still seems too little to really establish just how great this film is.

But that's still not all! I adore Robin Carolan's score, deftly complementing each scene and mood and enhancing them without fail. The sound is crystal clear, allowing every note, word, and sound to ring out flawlessly; to the same point, the sound effects are superb. So is the editing. Well and truly, are there any criticisms to be laid at this title's feet? It could be the case that a few odds and ends are less sure-footed or crafted less carefully; an early scene that cuts back to Herr Knock, for example, or some dialogue given to Ellen as she speaks with Orlok, or the plainspoken camera angles that accompany that same latter sequence. Yet such minutiae fare very few and very far between, and far, far, far more than not, the sum total is so resoundingly excellent that the "lesser" tidbits are all but forgotten. For all intents and purposes, I can only repeat that I think this is perfect. It's very noteworthy, too, that while Eggers' 'Nosferatu' is undeniably kith and kin with Murnau's, and Herzog's, each of these premier exemplars also bear very unique traits that easily set them apart from each other and from other vampire pieces. They share blood, if you will, but they are not remotely the same, and this duality is surely part of what allows each to be so momentous in their own fashions. With all this having been said, for as much as I dearly love 'The witch,' I can't help but think that this 2024 release may well be the crown jewel so far in Eggers' flourishing career.

Personal preferences vary, and this will not appeal equally to all comers. In my book, though, I can only reiterate what an immense pleasure it is both as a cinephile and as a fan of horror. As far as I'm concerned Eggers' 'Nosferatu' is a modern masterpiece on par with its brethren of both five decades ago and ten decades ago, and I'm thrilled to give it my very highest, heartiest, and most enthusiastic recommendation!