Blue Rose Film Review

As soon as the posters and trailer for Alex Garland's supposedly film as director were released, it was obvious that Civil War was going to be a controversial film. It doesn't take a genius political commentator to see why a film depicting a civil war, particularly one in the United States, was going to ruffle all sorts of feathers across the political spectrum; so far, Civil War has done exactly that. Just a casual scroll through the Twitter-sphere will show you all sorts of opinions, many of which are heated and pointed.  It is somewhat ironic, then, that Civil War actually actively avoids any obvious parallels to the current contemporary political landscapes. It refuses to place itself in any recognisable time frame, other than the fact that it is in a recognisable future. It refuses to make links between the politics in the film and the politics in the real world, going as far as to show that the "Western Forces" that are bearing down on Nick Offerman's Presid

Persona (1966) I was prompted to revisit this masterpiece after Denis Villeneuve cited it as an influence on his filmmaking in Dune. I've probably seen it five or six times now, and every time I experience the film it leaves a different impression on me, like it's a prism reflecting back whatever light I pass through it. Having not seen it since embarking on my journey through the Criterion Collection boxed set, it was wonderful seeing it again with a much more contextual understanding of its place amongst the rest of his body of work. Even though the boxed set is filled with masterful films, Persona still stands out to me as not just being Bergman's crowning achievement, but probably one of the greatest films ever made.  The Fall of the House of Usher (2023) It feels unfair to compare everything that Mike Flanagan does to Midnight Mass, because nothing will ever come close to touching the absolute perfection of that limited series. But nevertheless, as another entry into l

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (2001) One of the first films that I have a memory of seeing as a young kid. Even though so many of the performances are wooden, the dialogue can be rickety as hell, and some of the effects have aged like milk, it still oozes with character, warmth and magic.  All These Women (1964) This is the first film in the Ingmar Bergman's Cinema box set from Criterion that I haven't connected with. I think it largely comes down to the fact that I don't think Bergman had the chops for comedy at this stage in his career. To watch a feature length comedy film and not laugh once is like staring at a bright light to bring on a sneeze that you are on the brink of and never quite succeeding.  Women Talking (2023) Caught up on some big films from last year that I didn't get to at the time, and Women Talking was at the top of that list. It is just stacked with stellar performances, and to be honest I think the film speaks for itself louder than

Saltburn (2023) Watching this a second time I think I enjoyed it more. Being able to see Barry Keoghan's Oliver Quick behaviour with the added vision of retrospect turns the film into an entirely different experience. At what point does he decide to commit to his plan? Did he have everything planned from the start? Did he fall into it before he realised what he was doing? It was just as funny on a rewatch, and Richard E. Grant really stood out for me again. The aspect ratio also really worked for me watching it at home in a way that it didn't quite do so in a theatre, creating a really claustrophobic and breathless atmosphere. "Murder on the Dancefloor" is still stuck in my head.  Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964) The first of a few films I put on in my new house after moving to settle in. Dr. Strangelove is such a comfort film for me, I never get tired of watching Peter Sellers' performances. I have always felt like Kubri

Jonathan Cornford, Sat 24th February 2024 * This article contains spoilers for The Zone of Interest  and openly addresses the topic of the Holocaust * Jonathan Glazer’s new film, The Zone of Interest, opens with a seemingly intentional confrontation to the audience, especially to those not familiar with the once commonplace pre-film overture. In asking the audience to spend almost five minutes looking at a black screen before the film actually starts, it seems to be actively and willingly testing the viewers’ patience. But what this bold choice in opening does is actually something more than simply asking the audience to appreciate the haunting musical score by Mica Levi.   It is telling the audience to do two things, both of which are vital to both the experience of watching the film itself, and the central idea that Glazer is hoping to leave an audience chewing over as the lights come up.   The first: listen. The film’s great power largely arrives with each individual audience member