Eva has written 102 reviews for films during 2019.

  • Crawl

    Crawl

    ★★

    wow someone finally told the algorithms about vulgar auteurism!

  • The Happening

    The Happening

    the anomie and self-destruction of the US in the aughts parlayed into the more abstract catastrophes of a looming climate apocalypse, which itself only stands for an even more totalizing and unintelligible rejection of humanity by nature. particularly notable in Shyamalan’s oeuvre for the way it juxtaposes some of his bleakest moments of comedy (“my firearm is my friend!”, Wahlberg begging a plastic fern to spare him) with an increasingly potent motif of desperate touch which always antecedes loss. isolated…

  • Sucker Punch

    Sucker Punch

    had no idea my dude Snyder could make something like this repulsive, thorny rejoinder to predominating cultural notions of how 'empowerment' and catharsis operate in genre, here imprisoning their subjects in a diegetically pseudo-pornographic fantasy which can ultimately offer those caught in its spell nothing but mindless passivity as an end. anyone who survives with their personhood intact in these patriarchal conditions does so by chance and tremendous sacrifice, alone. honestly surprised me, i resisted it the whole way but it ends up in a place that's surprisingly coherent and strangely necessary

  • The Blind Owl

    The Blind Owl

    a displaced man enters a movie theater (surrounded by Orientalist images) that only shows the cinema of Orientalist images. he is remade by these images even as he remakes them; the colonial subject is first fetishized and then dismembered, but she always drifts back to him, even in pieces. Raul Ruiz’s zombie movie, a film of rotting bodies shambling around through dreams and afterlifes (it remains unclear which is which). undeniably grotesque and monstrous, decomposing as it goes, and yet infinitely pleasurable in how the progress of decay becomes just another excuse for increasingly elusive Ruizian transformations

    "this is my god"

  • The Devil's Rejects

    The Devil's Rejects

    ★★★★½

    "what's the matter kid? dontcha' like clowns? don't we make you laugh? aren't we fucking funny?"

    one of the great American hangout movies, raucous and gleefully uninhibited, far beyond good taste and formal acuity, not to mention anything resembling ethics (but, god, how much empathy there is in this movie). nothing else plays quite like it

  • Don't Go Breaking My Heart

    Don't Go Breaking My Heart

    ★★★★

    every emotion is concretized into something tangible (an apartment, a frog, even the skyline of a city), spatialized across the surfaces of sleekly angular modern architecture, or performed as slapstick and pantomime: nothing remains interior here (and thus it is necessarily less moving than something like Romancing in Thin Air, which is defined by its inexpressible lacunae). a frog dies and everything that was stuck in place is released back into the air, made ephemeral once again. pretty vertiginous, like standing on a skyscraper that’s still being built right beneath your feet

  • Bully

    Bully

    ★★★½

    "that's fucking sick, that's gross...nature sucks"

    mostly convincing as an account of white middle class suburban masculinity (yet slightly hamstrung by a shaky understanding of its female counterpart), with the attendant class antagonism and sublimated queerness and systemic failure integrated to varying degrees of success. sometimes eerily plausible, often totally inauthentic, but still Clark has an unexpected (but not unwelcome) degree of formal control here that holds everything together even through the rough stretches

  • Magic Mike XXL

    Magic Mike XXL

    even if ultimately this is just as despairing a vision of the economic realities of the American working class as Soderbergh’s original, the generally dour tone and piss-stained color palette have been exchanged for an ecstatically intimate view of himbo masculinity and candy-colored, sometimes gloriously abstract lighting expressly designed to make all bodies appear beautiful. gets a lot of mileage out of the reflexive examination of its own status as an attractive, decidedly unpretentious commodity which exists purely to service…

  • Hatari!

    Hatari!

    ★★★★½

    a series of impeccable minor scenes strung together with nothing but chill vibes and beautiful landscapes. strangely progressive in how it imagines this utopian cross-cultural space united by intangible codes of (paradoxically gender-neutral) masculinity and professionalism, even if its notions of everyone and everything unfamiliar to the American male are hopelessly exoticizing. surely the warmest and most pleasurable two-and-a-half hours you can spend watching very little happen

  • August in the Water

    August in the Water

    ★★★★

    on cosmic (in)significance and miracles of proximity. flows in reverse from the mundanities of these teenagers’ lives to the loftiest peaks of cinematic abstraction effortlessly. the rediscovery of a boundless soul through bodily harm; not the atoms but the spaces between (the sublimity of negation). the only thing humans can give to the earth is blood (but what wonders it bestows in return). marvelous

    ”i’m not scared about the boundaries anymore”

  • The Night of the Hunted

    The Night of the Hunted

    baffling, just barely skirts unwatchability most of the time but nonetheless Rollin intermittently wrings something incredibly moving and almost human from what would otherwise be little more than porn with numbingly elaborate justifications attached. identities and bodies crumble inside of sterile but fashionable interiors, which are supposedly insulating them from the barren, scarred urban wasteland which awaits outside. the eternal present-tensism is what really works here, though, with the constantly refashioned (and yet always disintegrating) selves clumsily stumbling towards warmth…

  • House of 1000 Corpses

    House of 1000 Corpses

    ★★★½

    starts out as a chopped-and-screwed Texas Chainsaw Massacre riff with History Channel cryptid documentary aesthetic sensibilities and ends (quite effectively) as an Argento-esque (lol) explication of the logic of a nightmare space. wonderful anti-yuppie propaganda, agitates for the reclamation of trashiness from middle-class suburbanite hacks