Take a drink every time a pretty actress twirls for the camera. Still, even messy Malick is better than no Malick at all.

quietly hilarious (the best kind of hilarious).

This is a fairly great film, despite making several missteps. That scene on the dance floor is genuinely chilling.

Hopelessly derivative of Wong Kar-Wai, but. . .

Ambitious, but unsuccessful, despite occasional poetry. For the most part Ceylan just lacks the ability to transform the banal into great cinema.

the debts we owe to our younger selves.

cinema of blissful listlessness

"Hell's full of bears, Jimmy. But there's no bears here."

Mesmerising, unforgettable. . . Duras.

a cinematic masterpiece of the melancholy calm.

"...but now I will try total fiction to search for that reality." A pity. His films since this metamorphosis only manage to occasionally brush against the remarkably consistent greatness of his first four features. Here's hoping he finds some way to reconcile these two stylistic approaches.

Starts off as a supernatural thriller, much like Kurosawa's other films, but somewhere along the way it turns into a strangely feel-good amoral comedy. Good stuff.

Funnily enough I developed a massive back ache midway through this.

Nice clouds.

Feels like self parody of his better westerns.

This is how you earn nostalgia.

Good title.