Author name: Pronob Kumar

2.2.24 How do you cinematically portray people making life-changing, world-affecting decisions? Superbly shot and boasting impeccable recreations of the only 60 Minutes broadcast I’ve ever watched, The Insider reveals a chilling reality: how hard it is to tell a simple truth when ‘Big Tobacco’ wants it silenced. Three big-screen heavyweights fully showcase their capabilities here. First, Al Pacino intensely simmers as TV producer Lowell Bergman; a muted performance by his standards, yet still decent. Second, a youthful Russell Crowe delivers a subversive, beta-role as whistleblower Jeffrey Wigand, characterising the intelligence and weight of a man some 20 years his senior. But third and most impressively, Christopher Plummer fully chews the scenery as 60 Minutes’ charismatic host Mike Wallace. His casual authority and bulldog-like vigour belie Plummer’s near-70 years. In minor criticism, I would have preferred more focus on Plummer, as he has far less screen time than Pacino and Crowe, which is understandable considering how high their stock was in the late nineties after Heat and LA Confidential respectively. However, compared to those films, there’s little action here, despite no shortage of tension either, especially in the methodical first hour. It’s Michael Mann’s least physically violent film but due to the serious wide-reaching subject matter, it feels no less impactful. The most riveting moments seem mundane, Crowe and Pacino sitting in a Japanese restaurant on the floor with the camera flipping between sides of the room as the conversation becomes slowly more intense, as does their professional relationship. Meticulously edited, The Insider contains no dud shots, badly lit frames or dodgy focuses; everything is as it needs to be to get its point across. Undoubtedly long, yet absent of anything superfluous. Even the lone villain Michael Gambon’s repeated appearances feel compulsory, re-stating the coldness of corporate corruption. A film which reminds us that in real life, the biggest fiends are not those with fangs or claws, but the ones with global influence and mile-high piles of money to protect their interests from scrutiny.

28.2.24 Loveless is not an uplifting film, but it’s powerful, weighty and overwhelming in the best possible sense. By creating a riveting portrait of a family in despair, it offers a scathing commentary on contemporary life in Russia, devoid of heart and soul. At the story’s core lies every parent’s worst nightmare: the disappearance of your first child. But the lack of urgency from 12-year-old Alyosha’s soon-to-be-divorced parents makes it abundantly clear that neither wants him. Both Zhenya (Maryana Spivak) and Boris (Aleksey Rozin) have moved on emotionally, although still in the same apartment at the start of the film which is quickly being sold to a younger more hopeful couple. Our wicked pair, in contrast, have lined up new lovers and made plans that don’t include the son they heartbreakingly refer to as the worst mistake of their lives. The two leads are equally disgusting in their selfishness, pride and egocentrism. Their nasty, passive-aggressive digs are electric and darkly funny at times. The performances are uniformly strong, with Spivak’s Zhenya a particular standout as she dominates her scenes with entitlement and ignorance. Yet even the side characters relish opportunities to showcase humanity’s capacity for being profoundly ignorant and detached. In one of the film’s most intense and upsetting scenes, we see the repulsive attitude from Zhenya’s mother, a true battle axe, who rants at her daughter explaining just how she got to be how she is. Much has been said about the final character shot in the film, showing a woman dressed in an Olympic Russia tracksuit, furiously running on a treadmill alone in the cold, going nowhere fast and isolated – a fitting metaphor for life under Putin. The film therefore emphatically succeeds as both blistering social commentary and thriller, with the likes of Fincher no doubt nodding in approval. For anyone seeking to understand the deep dissatisfaction residing in much of Russian society, Andrey Zvyagintsev’s scathing dissection is never less than extremely compelling. I am only just starting to venture into Russian cinema (having only seen this, Mirror, Battleship Potemkin and Come and See) but I must see more, so I think the director’s other known work Leviathan will be the next Russian film I try and seek out.

4.3.24 I don’t love the X-Men films to rewatch all of them before Deadpool and Wolverine later in the year, but I remember enjoying Days of Future Past enough to check it out again. On rewatch, I found it to be an entertaining instalment, which at the time breathed new life and dynamics into the mutant universe. By seamlessly blending old and new franchise elements into one delightful package, it acts as a much-needed jumpstart for a series in need of fresh legs to stand on. While more dramatic than First Class but lacking a definitive villain, Days of Future Past is imbued with a reverent admiration for Marvel’s rich source material. The excellent visual effects, star-studded ensemble, witty self-aware writing that knows when to inject some comic relief without becoming too jokey, and Bryan Singer’s skilled direction elevate it to an incredibly fun balancing act of beloved characters. Using Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine as the bridge between timelines is a brilliant move that grounds the fresh storytelling in a familiar, iconic character. While using Richard Nixon as a villain is admittedly a cheap ploy, the climactic showdown between past and present villains, one real and one fictional, still satisfies. For better or worse, Days of Future Past wholeheartedly embraces unabashed comics-style storytelling more than any previous Marvel film entry. It’s a crying shame the subsequent Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix failed to capitalise on this film’s deft balancing of casts and emotionally resonant stakes. While not perfect, Days of Future Past combines the best of both eras to create an immensely entertaining whole that reinvigorated the X-Men series, at least for a little while, leading into the Deadpool and Logan movies. With its daring narrative ambition and seamless melding of rosters, it’s a temporary triumph in the Marvel Universe that has me excited for 2025’s Fantastic Four reboot starring Vanessa Kirby and Pedro Pascal.

12.3.24 Of all the gritty films that have tried to capture the slimy undercarriage of New York City nightlife, Midnight Cowboy remains my favourite. Despite its half-century age, it has lost none of its raw, honest charm in depicting the struggles of two vulnerable outsiders. Directed by John Schlesinger, the 1969 Best Picture winner spins a tale with poignancy beneath its rough edges. The brilliant performances by Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight are what truly make this film shine. Hoffman was already acclaimed for The Graduate in 1969, but here he shapeshifts into the seedy but streetsmart Ratso. Voight is equally compelling in his breakout role as the naive Texan dreamer Joe Buck. Their unlikely friendship forms the heartwrenching core of the story as two societal castoffs lean on each other for survival on the harsh city streets. While their characters come from vastly different backgrounds, Hoffman and Voight create a palpable chemistry and comedic odd-couple rapport. The highs and lows of their odyssey exploring Manhattan ring valid, although the avant-garde party scene does push it. As their adventures unfold with a raw, documentary-like realism, the tender moments between them make the journey so moving. Under Schlesinger’s deft direction, Midnight Cowboy defies easy categorisation. It’s a late ’60s time capsule, a devastating character study, a pointed social commentary, and a celebration of tenacity all wrapped into one. You get the sense that the unlikely friendship between Ratso and Joe was just one of countless other desperate stories playing out simultaneously on the unforgiving streets of the era. A rough journey but utterly absorbing.

27.3.24 It’s weird how this was my first time watching The Pledge, but feeling like I’ve seen it all before. Although Jack Nicholson delivers a haunting and committed performance in Sean Penn’s neo-noir thriller, the film suffers from an all too familiar setup with poor editing, making it a long film that stretches patience. As Jerry Black, a retiring police detective who becomes obsessed with solving the brutal murder of a young girl, Nicholson showcases his immense talent by portraying a man consumed by his demons and the weight of his pledge to the victim’s mother. The film’s unsettling tone and score both convey the psychological toll of Black’s relentless pursuit of justice. Some great moments remind us what a great leading man Nicholson used to be, such as his warm interactions with the young actors in the film, as well as some of his sleuthing moments, such as when analysing the children’s drawings with Aaron Eckhart’s Detective Krolak. The cast is strong, which also includes Robin Wright, Helen Mirren, and Benicio del Toro. It also has a great but short scene involving Mickey Rourke, who I have always liked as an actor and want to prioritise rewatches of The Wrestler and Sin City. But that’s all for nothing if the mystery isn’t as compelling as director Sean Penn thinks it is. The central mystery sometimes feels convoluted, relying on convenient coincidences and unlikely connections that undermine the film’s realism. While Penn’s direction is competent, the pacing regularly drags, causing the narrative to lose momentum and leaving the audience yearning for a more engaging storyline. The Pledge’s ending, while ambitious, fails to deliver a satisfying payoff for the viewer. The film’s climax feels abrupt and leaves several plot threads unresolved, leaving the audience with more questions than answers. Largely due to Nicholson’s commanding presence and the film’s atmospheric qualities, it’s worth watching if you love old Jack’s work, but it’s ultimately a letdown which squanders the abilities of its cast.

25.3.24 It’s hard for most people to say anything remotely interesting about one of the most important films of the 1990s, but I’ll try anyway with two key points. As stupid as it sounds, Fight Club honestly got me into reading books properly. After seeing it at 15 years old, I remember telling my older stepbrother how much I loved this film. It opened me up to other works by the writer Chuck Palahniuk, such as Lullaby, Choke, and Survivor. Some of these books he bought for me as gifts, alongside many Nine Inch Nails CDs and Spawn McFarlane action figures. From there, it introduced me to similar transgressive writers that I still love to read from time to time, like Bret Easton Ellis, Kurt Vonnegut, and Irvine Welsh. There’s no doubt Fight Club was the catalyst that ignited a respect for literature, which undoubtedly helped in my academic life. Fight Club transformed me from a casual moviegoer into a genuine film lover. When I was 16, my micro-analysis of the film’s themes, such as late modernism, consumerism, and neo-Marxism, led to my first proper piece of writing on film. This project was part of my AS Film Studies course, and it marked the beginning of my journey into a deeper appreciation and understanding of cinema. Fight Club challenged me to look beyond the obvious and explore the profound ideas and concepts that great films can convey. Ultimately, the film is a critique of capitalism, although the surface-level themes of masculine identity, fetishism, and violent protest somewhat obscure this. I could also say I wouldn’t have a career as a sociology teacher without this film, but that might be pushing it too far. Nonetheless, Fight Club’s impact on my personal and intellectual growth as a teenager cannot be overstated. It’s a film which encourages rule-breaking, at least in terms of breaking away from conventional, consensus thinking on a societal level. Because of that, I’m also happy to disregard the first rule of Fight Club.