Eva has written 13 reviews for films during 2021.

  • There Was a Little Girl

    There Was a Little Girl

    severely underrated! uncommonly precise for italo-horror, certainly with a lurching and stumbling narrative arc but assured and deliberate in its psychology to a genuinely surprising degree. an abusive, quasi-incestuous sibling relationship, long dormant, resurfaces as one sister decays and the other devotes her life to care: hardly novel but still a canny spin to have such a well-developed sense of the conflict between sisters as fundamentally both inter- and intrapsychic, each sister warring with the fragmentary other within their own…

  • Memories of Matsuko

    Memories of Matsuko


    sugary in the purest sense, tilting between pleasurable and nauseating, over-aestheticized to such a degree that signifiers perform a full 360-degree rotation from meaningful to meaningless and back again in mid-air. devotion and abuse, exile and new homes, sanctified, saintly pain and a qualified-false-note saccharine ending (after all, she died alone), but other than that there are surprisingly few missteps. forgive me for being born. god forgives those who found no forgiveness in life (who forgave others unquestioningly). our lives end so many times before they end. again, i was singing

  • Æon Flux

    Æon Flux


    one of those movies that should've gotten a big 'vulgar' reclamation back when those sorts of things were in vogue.... . charlize theron leg power. charlize theron pet marbles power. charlize theron weird sort-of-bob haircut power. anyways this is about how the power of obsessive century-spanning metempsychotic heterosexual love breaks through pseudo-FALCist static hegemony to re-establish vaguely ecologically-attuned futurity.....(cloud atlas but good?). looks great moves great never boring could stand to be gayer given how much the script is clearly…

  • X: The Movie

    X: The Movie


    brash, disintegrative, and schizophasic, an apocalypse through and of aesthetic dissipation and reassemblage at increasingly bewildering speeds, CLAMP's aesthetic and narrative sensibilities centrifuged inside of the brain of a very dumb guy until something totally unrecognizable and wild oozes out along with the blood and amniotic fluid and magic swords. i honestly feel like this really suffers though if you have any familiarity with the source text, though, because otherwise this is completely dead behind the eyes. there's something interesting…

  • Spontaneous Combustion

    Spontaneous Combustion


    more than anything else, a family melodrama (hooper is infinitely better on filial neuroses than spielberg, whatever people might say), "america's first nuclear family" caught in the conflagration of atomic flame as it scurries surreptitiously across a generational gap to devour new bodies. hooper has us dining at cafe kitsch with b movie flair - hope everyone who loved twin peaks the return part 8 appreciates that hooper saw those demons first. it melts - nothing else - just plastic;…

  • Cursed



    by no stretch ever a masterpiece but i was ready to sound the "unfairly maligned minor work" alarm more or less until the climax kicks in and it goes from like, fun dumb comfort food with a hot cast and a high degree of tonal elasticity to insultingly stupid bullshit with no direction and less than zero ideas (extremely unsurprising to learn that the climax/ending were shoehorned in by weinstein on like the third or fourth reshoots, it REALLY shows).…

  • Necronomicon



    this shit actually goes kind of crazy hard like...any individual segment feels weightless and goofy with mostly vibes and really solid and fun effects work holding it together but the way it loses any sense of like self-import or pomposity held over from its nominal inspirations in order to just go increasingly hamfisted batshit vulgar and wacky with each progressive segment until it's doing what feels like precog ps2 survival horror pastiche somehow with a climax pulled right out the…

  • Showgirls



    not anti-spectacle, or the deflation of spectacle, as in Starship Troopers but the sexually ecstatic zenith which represents what spectacle can do when the myth is turned inside out to reveal its blindingly bright gleaming mechanical innards. we take the cash we cash the check we show em what they wanna see. truer words never spoken. elizabeth berkley plays the gnostic seeker and representative of every eternally young and eternally hungry girl looking to put the world in her teeth,…

  • Revolutionary Girl Utena

    Revolutionary Girl Utena


    grand, ornately wrought with biblical scale and intimate psychodramatic detail. repeats and repeats and repeats itself, each repetition a bolt in the cozy coffin of a princeling who wants such a pathetic thing as to merely recapture the glory days of his youth. ufo shadow girls pantomime greek choruses which trivialize and dramatize at once, and children duel for their right to personal miracles in the shadow of a castle whose promise they have always known to be nought but…

  • New Rose Hotel

    New Rose Hotel


    memory like a chopped n screwed remix, memory like a double helix unwinding, unzipped and contorted into new shapes by the activities of the tiny scuttling things without will, the microbiological elements that make the blood blood, the skin skin, the flesh flesh. a claustrophobic space with a gun and nothing to do but look into the mutable inside, though "it does not befit, behoove a gentleman to introspect": hunting, being hunted, always, is the life that befits a gentleman.…

  • Summer Vacation 1999

    Summer Vacation 1999


    i am in tremendous pain

  • Palo Alto

    Palo Alto

    became increasingly convinced of the merit here as the (loose) structure unfolded in the last third and the accumulation of moments begin to crystallize the hazy suburban melancholia into something more vital, more thorny, further from the idea of a "coming-of-age" movie. the kids are frozen in periodically violent, frequently addled stasis at the cusp of something like adulthood, which here only figures as a sort of hushed, roiling subterranean hint of dissolution. the slickness of the aestheticization sits uncomfortably…