Few films are greater than this one.

The last shot and words hit you like a grenade - one can't describe the depth of emotion and thought concentrated in a single freeze. Beautiful actors. And a 103 year-old genius thinking the world with a freedom and boldness of vision that unfortunately is getting more and more rare in younger directors.

The most violent film of this decade.The whole world and its values crumbling down in one room.To reach cosmic resonance through only the utmost necessary elements and movements in the mise en scène; one that echoes profoundly, beat by beat, in an evoked offscreen - its time and light modulation keeping everything (and everyone) within a step from death.

Dictatorial, robotic cinema: in its perfect all-knowing formal genius reveals no interest or commitment whatsoever in confronting life in its mistery and unpredictable violence. Its emotional mechanics are disgusting, looking at its actors and unidimensional ilustration of human suffering - of one way only, predetermined by an "artist", with no evocation or thought about nothing - as tests on lab rats. Shameful.

Carpenter simply aknowledges evil as a fact and the search for an absolute truth, either through science or religion, as useless man-made limited constructions - a world where God is silent and any meaning exists only in the mind. The last two shots of the movie have eternal spiritual resonance. This is true horror, with a cosmic understanding of our finitude - and as such, it fullfils its existence as cinema.

Such a bad ass fuckin' brutal film delving into the most profound existential fears about the abyss of unknown that the other (the human soul/identity)always represents.An horrifying and essential philosophical work(mistakingly treated as just a great "genre" piece)made by one of the last macho directors.A fear about the future of humanity and evil that never ages.Made 30 years ago,it captures today's feeling of doom

The rating is for Merde.

You could call it megalomaniac or insane if it wasn't for the fact that it's also a profoundly humble film in its aesthetic and moral distance. A movie of infinite beauty,rich in its textures,dirt, faces,dramatic landscapes and internal rythms in each shot which betray a patience,attention to emotional,material,details which could only be achieved by an intelligent and kind hearted human being.Or as I call it:genius.

One of the most beautiful and poetic "fuck you" aimed to all the motherfuckers of the world. Politics, capitalism, sports obsession, plastic surgery,religion,the spectacle world,CGI imaginary, pseudo-rebels, left-wing,right-wing,the notion of freedom and living in society...all of this reflected in a scathing mirror directed to a shitty society and made by a director enjoying his utmost "I don't give a shit" freedom.

Eastwood's intent is, as always,profound and his sensibility still comes through, but there's too much here that just doesn't breathe life, in which Eastwood's particular visual rythms and sense of contemplation don't seem to fully connect with the material. Tom Stern's disappointing cinematography - full of what seems a digital color correction overuse- doesn't help. It's a dignified failure from a master filmmaker.

Four or five beautiful scenes (for example the gay kiss or J Edgar dressing as a woman in front of a mirror) amid a messy chaotic narrative structure of a great amount of history and investigation details that don't seem to interest that much to Eastwood's camera. The awful makeup that characterizes old DiCaprio and Armie Hammer gives the movie a very strange look and destroys the emotional potential of some scenes.

One of the ugliest opening scenes in the History of Cinema - the rest is just pretentious, lazy filmmaking.

I don't have any interest in videomakers and video installations. There's no depth whatsoever to the cinema of this overrated fake filmmaker. Luckily this superficial 'fashion of the week' cinema will be forgotten in a few years. Its magical realism (specially in Boonme) has nothing on the magical realism of a movie like, for example, Hereafter.

Shyamalan manages to make us feel what we can't see - some beautiful and disturbing shots of the trees blowing in the wind recall Sjöstrom while other times its themes and style seem inspired on the work of Tourneur on the invisible which gives the world it's meaning and form - the simple infantility of its main adult characters being more real and complex than most recent complex, "sophisticated" adult dramas.

This simple b-movie may be the most unsettling and transparent expression of Shyalaman's cinema, the awkwardness of the characters behaviors and the extreme insanity of the whole scenario making for a real uncomfortable viewing experience -it makes sense that, not knowing how to take it, most people laughed it off as a ridiculous movie filled with "overacting" and "silly" behavior by its characters. Beautiful cinema.

It's just an awful film directed as a soulless mechanical device designed to ellicit tears in every shot of every scene. Cartoon characters, lots of random grandiloquent crane shots, and a dramaturgy modulation based on the infantile notion of "cinematic" as a succession of artistic setpieces devoid of any spiritual, intellectual or emotional drive (the stylish windmill execution is the worst offender - garbage).

Only one shot of a painting on a cave wall and it attains a more cosmic dimension than the ridiculous The Tree of Life in its entirety. It's just the great Herzog doing his job: making one more relevant movie. And it's the first time that the new 3D technology adds something of value to a movie (even if it's not indispensable).

A brilliant moment in De Palma's ongoing meditation on the nature of truth, subjectivity, the contemporary proliferation of images and the troubling implications of all imagetic reproductions.As always, each of his sequences and shots thinks the relation with its material/human object and ellicits precise thoughts about their own ethics,design and construction in connection to the situations being reproduced/watched.

Utterly destroyed by critics. Still better and more beautiful than 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The greatest work of cinematic satire of the past 30 years (or is it Carpenter's Escape from LA?) with the added bonus of having some of the lamest and therefore most visionary one-liners I can recall - its epic fighting sequence is a political statement like no other. It all moves with a sublime fuck you attitude which combined with a much required frontality and modesty, gives an indelible resonance to its ideas.

A "charming" and "enchanting" little insult letter to the history of cinema and the work of Méliès. A technically perfect (and very blue), braindead, irrelevant and resigned work of art from a once interesting filmmaker (King of Comedy or The Last Temptation of Christ).

Where's The Shadow Box (1980)? It's a brilliant film directed by Newman.

Not much happens. No plot to talk about. It's just McQueen calmly (and sadly - things aren't what they used to be) walking around town talking (very little) to some family members and riding one or too bulls. And it's wonderful.

A lesson in mise en scène and in the Mitchum craft.

An unintrusive camera following an ideia of distance that gives dignity and dimension to all things. Made in a matter of a couple of months, Clint's Hereafter manages do embarrass Malick's godawful, three (or thirty) years in the making, «The Tree of Life», a megalomaniac attempt at meditating on death and life. Malick playing God is nothing next to a director being a man and seeing and feeling things like one.

An unfortunate mix between Jean-Pierre Jeunet's and Terry Gilliam's utterly ugly aesthetics and Sokurov's art pompousness, this cinematic sewer murders Goethe's words with an interminable array of annoying caricatures posing as characters that have nothing resembling or suggesting an actual human soul or expression. It's just one more visually distorted hoax made by a pseudo-master.

A beautiful farewell from one the greatest directors who ever lived.

An empty exercise in stylish surfaces and cool, detached, dramaturgy without any real understanding of its main human conflicts. Its ever growing spectacle in violence betrays a morally bankrupt filmmaker and destroys its initial apparently carefully managed dramatic tonality - a very poor rip-off of images and narrative devices mainly from Michael Mann's entire body of work, and specifically from 80's great «Thief».

The emotional tensions and perspectives that develop under the verbalized theoretical concepts exist on the actors expressions (in the most tiny physical gestures or glances that Cronenberg's precision always manages to catch) and in the holes created by the powerful ellipses - something that clearly, radically, distiguishes this masterful film from some ordinary costume period piece.

Brilliant in its razor-sharp editing, the violent elliptical nature of the narrative and the contrasts and spaces between shots grant life and mistery to its lengthy dialogue scenes - the spareness in the mise en scène and its visual clarity, which in its transparency opposes any sort of excess or mannerism in style, grounds all the procedings in the richness of the reality in front of the camera.