Good films bad films

You know I've had my share.

They’ve all been good, really, but I had to go for the line, as you’ll soon understand.

One 2025 goal of mine was to see more films, specifically im Kino, and as we soldier through Q2 I am pleased to submit that it’s going brilliantly. Besides the one I’ve discussed at length—and the one queued up for next week—here are some highlights:

Ainda Estou Aqui (I’m Still Here), dir. Walter Salles

The true story of Brazilian former congressman Rubens Paiva’s 1971 disappearance under the military dictatorship, and his wife Eunice’s quest to discover the truth and bring him home. The unrelenting suspense of this account puts it on par, in my cinema-going experience, with Dunkirk: from the moment some officers escort Rubens to their vehicle while others remain in the home with Eunice and her children—including son Marcelo, whose 2015 autobiography forms the basis of the screenplay—there is little relief to be had. (Meanwhile, eldest daughter Vera’s dispatches from London have her exploring Portobello Road and encountering the exiled Caetano Veloso.)

And yet there’s a lightness to the depiction of the family dynamic, a strange normalcy retained amidst the dread, a testament to the indestructible bond that sees them through some of the worst that can happen to a family (one moment mid-film made all of us in the theatre gasp). It’s a deeply moving piece that deserves to have made history like it has: three Oscar noms, including Best Picture, and one win for Best International Film—the first Brazilian movie to win an Academy Award.

On a personal note, this theatre constituted the largest group of Portuguese speakers I’ve been around to date, and it was a delight. And a good friend of mine has friends who worked on the film, so I’m somewhat privy to how sweet the recognition was for everyone involved. I hope Brazilian cinema gains even more traction on the world screen.

The Substance, dir. Coralie Fargeat

Horrifying. That’s a compliment. I’ve kept an eye on Margaret Qualley since her turn as Ann Reinking in Fosse/Verdon, and her dance background continues to serve her in spades. But Demi Moore is truly astonishing here. Given how her Charlie’s Angels phase leads me to doubt if ever a more stunningly beautiful woman walked the earth, she is uniquely equipped to inhabit the role of an actress who will go to gruesome lengths to recapture what she feels she has lost. And she peers headfirst into the belly, or spine, of the beast. What’s more, arguments were made that this year’s Best Actress Oscar proved the point of the story, though Moore rose above the fray with a maturity that can only come from a lifetime of such heavy industry scrutiny.

I watched this one at home on MUBI. Would not recommend for right before bedtime.

Nosferatu, dir. Robert Eggers

Lily-Rose Depp broke the curse of The Idol with this one. There aren’t many things we all agree on in this world, but one is Dolly Parton’s inherent goodness, and another is that if you can convince us that you are possessed by a demon, you are a good actor. The film is full of strong performances, and Depp’s is the gravitational center. And we’re always in good hands with Eggers. Exorcism! Plague! Period dress! What’s not to love?

Having grown up in an era of vampires undercover, I did find Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård) to be So Obviously A Vampire as to render the humans’ repeated engagement with him a bit mystifying. On the upside, should an erotically vengeful vampiric spirit ever wash up on the shores of my unsuspecting German village, I totally have a playbook for vanquishing him.

Lord Farquaad, Bianca Donaghy, Voldemort, and Caesar Flickerman play the Game of Thrones: Vatican City. (Peacock)

Mulholland Drive, dir. David Lynch

Confession: this was my first Lynch. Also the first non-recent release of my year: the international cinema where I saw most of these films did this screening in his honor as part of their running ‘classics’ series, so I thought what better time and place to start. Overall, I won’t use the word ‘enjoyed’ per se, but I chewed on it for a good while afterward. I liked that, given that it’s a story of Hollywood, the actors look and especially sound as if they were told to act like they were acting. The various archetypal characters we meet (aspiring transplant, down-on-his-luck director, put-upon casting director, mysterious femme fatale, nosy but kindly landlady) feel like commentaries on themselves, but not in an alienating way, at least not to me.

Not that it’s a comfortable viewing experience. I heard someone tell their companion as we filed out that the first ‘part’ represents what Naomi Watts’ character wants to happen and the second ‘part’ portrays what actually happens. I think this is a fascinating interpretation. I also think it might be too easy. I want to check back in after seeing more Lynch.

Becoming Led Zeppelin, dir. Bernard McMahon

Ok friends, I amend my earlier statement: “Houses of the Holy” is the only Zeppelin song I enjoy from beginning to end without interruption. This well-done doc brought me to the conclusion that my problem is Page. I thoroughly dislike him, and it was his band, sometimes bordering on his vanity project. I sat through what felt like ten minutes of “Dazed and Confused” and never once heard Jake Holmes properly credited.

I vibe with JPJ even more than I already did. Would love to talk to that guy. ‘Pope John Paul Jones’ has a ring to it ngl. Hearing from Bonzo was undeniably special, and I don’t quibble with those who claim him as the all-time greatest, though I prefer some of his peers (and though, to my point about albums, these rankings are turning increasingly banal). Even Planty is not the issue; as my ongoing survey of his post-Zep career proves, the man can sing. It’s just that on almost any given track with the band he sounds like Ross Geller imitating a velociraptor. And after the debut record, somebody clearly encouraged him to enunciate less, which scores no points with me.

But “Good Times Bad Times” is a bop, aside from Page’s guitar freak-out, which I find incongruous with the tone of the song. And I’ll call it now, before I’m strung up in the town square: these guys may well turn out to be one of my top artists of the year due strictly to the first minute of “Moby Dick,” which gets me in the zone for just about anything. Until it yields to a distracted-sounding drum solo that is not even in tempo, that blues riff slaps.

Last, but by no means least,

Conclave, dir. Edward Berger

It was a good movie even before becoming impeccably (infallibly?) timely. Not sure I’d call it a ‘thriller’ as billed, but I could simply be so steeped in Catholicism that the proceedings held little potential to surprise me. The cast includes several of my favorite people. The costumes are on point, obviously. Volker Bertelmann’s score is full of bite and tension, although there’s so much red in the aforementioned costumes it’s a wonder Her Scarletness Taylor herself wasn’t involved. I would make SUCH A GOOD PRIEST WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME CHURCH.

And now training season is over. Catholic Super Bowl, here we come.

Dedicated to my mum, who drew the velociraptor analogy. For a song rec she might prefer: “Can’t Let Go,” Alison Krauss & Robert Plant

Pub update: pre-orders are LIVE for 13tracks Magazine Issue 1, a print edition featuring a poem from me and a whole playlist of inspired work.