— and it hinges on an unlikely friendship that could only exist in the movies. It’s the most Besson thing that is, was, or ever will be, and it also happens to become the best.
“Eyes Wide Shut” might not seem to be as epochal or predictive as some in the other films on this list, but no other ’90s movie — not “Safe,” “The Truman Show,” or even “The Matrix” — left us with a more precise feeling of what it would feel like to live while in the 21st century. In a word: “Fuck.” —DE
Dee Dee is really a Fats, blue-coloured cockroach and seemingly the youngest of your three cockroaches. He's also one of the main protagonists, appearing alongside his two cockroach gangs in every episode to destroy Oggy's day.
The film’s neon-lit first part, in which Kaneshiro Takeshi’s handsome pineapple obsessive crosses paths with Brigitte Lin’s blonde-wigged drug-runner, drops us into a romantic underworld in which starry-eyed longing and sociopathic violence brush within centimeters of each other and get rid of themselves within the same tune that’s playing around the jukebox.
Like many of your best films of its decade, “Beau Travail” freely shifts between fantasy and reality without stopping to establish them by name, resulting in a kind of cinematic hypnosis that audiences had rarely seen deployed with such secret or confidence.
Assayas has defined the central dilemma of “Irma Vep” as “How could you go back into the original, virginal power of cinema?,” nevertheless the film that dilemma prompted him to make is only so rewarding because the solutions it provides all manage to contradict each other. They ultimately flicker together in one of several greatest endings in the ten years, as Vidal deconstructs his dailies into a violent barrage of semi-structuralist doodles that would be meaningless if not for how perfectly they indicate Vidal’s achievement at creating a cinema that is shaped — but not owned — via the previous. More than twenty five years later, Assayas is still trying to determine how he did that. —DE
Seen today, steeped in nostalgia for the freedoms of a pre-handover Hong Kong, “Chungking Specific” still feels new. The film’s lasting power is especially impressive during the face of such a fast-paced world; a world in which nothing could be more valuable than a concrete offer from someone willing to share the same future with you — even if that offer is created on the napkin. —DE
A cacophonously intimate character study about a woman named Julie (a 29-year-previous Juliette Binoche) who survives the vehicle crash that kills her famous composer husband and their innocent young daughter — and then tries to manage with her reduction by dissociating from the life she once shared with them — “Blue” devastatingly sets the tone for the trilogy that’s less interested in “Magnolia”-like coincidences than in amazing danica with curvy natural tits enjoys a wild sex refuting The reasoning that life is ever as understandable as human subjectivity (or that of a film camera) can make it seem.
A single night, the good Dr. Monthly bill Harford would be the same toothy and self-confident Tom Cruise who’d become the face of Hollywood itself within the ’90s. The next, he’s fighting back flop sweat as he gets lost inside the liminal spaces that he used to stride right through; the liminal spaces between yesterday and tomorrow, public decorum and private decadence, affluent social-climbers along with the sinister ultra-rich they serve (masters of the universe who’ve fetishized their role inside our plutocracy towards the point where they can’t even throw a straightforward orgy without boob suck turning it into a semi-ridiculous “Sleep No More,” or get themselves off without putting the panic of God into an uninvited guest).
A poor, overlooked movie obsessive who only feels seen by the neo-realism of his country’s countrywide cinema pretends to be his favorite director, a farce that allows Hossain Sabzian to savor the dignity and importance that Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s films had allowed him to taste. When a Tehran journalist uncovers the ruse — the police arresting the harmless impostor while he’s inside the home in the affluent Iranian family where he “wanted to shoot his next film” — Sabzian arouses the interest of the (very) different ixiporn regional auteur who’s fascinated by his story, by its inherently cinematic deception, and by the counter-intuitive possibility that it presents: If Abbas Kiarostami staged a documentary around this male’s fraud, he could correctly cast Sabzian as being the lead character of the movie that Sabzian experienced always wanted someone to make about his suffering.
And but, for every little bit of progress Bobby and Kevin make, there’s a setback, resulting in a very roller coaster of hope and aggravation. Charbonier and Powell place the boys’ abduction within a larger context that’s deeply depraved and disturbing, yet they find a suitable thematic balance that avoids any perception of exploitation.
The story revolves around a homicide detective named Tanabe (Koji Yakusho), who’s investigating a number of inexplicable murders. In each circumstance, a seemingly regular citizen gruesomely kills someone close to them, with no motivation and no memory of committing the crime. Tanabe is chasing a ghost, and sexy “Heal” crackles with the paranoia of standing in an empty room where you feel a presence you cannot see.
Potentially it’s fitting that a road movie — the ultimate road movie — exists in so many different iterations, each longer than the next, spliced together from other iterations that together produce a perception of the grand cohesive whole. sex video tamil There is beauty in its meandering quality, its concentrate not on the sort of end-of-the-world plotting that would have Gerard Butler foaming with the mouth, but on the ease and comfort of friends, lovers, family, acquaintances, and strangers just hanging out. —ES
From that rich premise, “Walking and Talking” churns into a characteristically reduced-vital but razor-sharp drama about the complexity of women’s inner lives, as The author-director brings such deep oceans of feminine specificity to her dueling heroines (and their palpable display chemistry) that her attention can’t help but cascade down onto her male characters as well.