Letterboxd — Your life in film

The scent of summer peacefully wafted up as the Northern Italy’s wind swelled like a piece of full-flavored peach, with the incredibly soft outer skin, slimy flesh, and rough-coated seeds. Cigarette smoke, old times on the bike to the countryside. Time moved like flowing sand while the ripened fruits leisurely split their flesh open in mid-air, sending dozen of seeds flying like bullets to the bare skin, leaving behind a serious trace of pain. Call Me by Your Name possesses…

“I’m not what you think I am.”

What I saw today did not give me the triumphant feelings I was hoping for, instead of having a chance to experience something fresh and thematically powerful, what had transpired in front of me was a formulaic picture made of half-hearted effort. The presentation is so bland and dull due to it being completely shrouded in a murky visual palette, without any distinctive style or substance to savor, that Vers’s photon blasting energy…

“That Girl Deserves her Revenge and We Deserve to die."

I was about six or seven when my grandpa introduced me to this ultraviolent world of dismemberments, decapitations and scornful vengeance. Elle Driver’s whistling tune (Twisted Nerve) would reverberate back and forth in my ears and drown me out in extreme discomfort. I would become agitated, yet mostly in awe as my body broke out in sweat, certainly flabberghasted, my mind zeroed in on The Bride’s iconic yellow tracksuit with…

*Alexa plays Nightcall*

A symphonic piece of cranium-bashing ferocity and love that manifests with a mood for intimacy, brutalism as a way to express affection, delivering blow after blow of pulsating retro synthwave. Just think of Beethoven’s 3rd Movement Presto Agitato, recalling the wavy ups and downs in one’s psyche that flush out what’s so inherently dramatic and vicious. It does not take long for the short-lived peace to calm our nerves before getting taken apart by the sheer power…

Days and months are covered by mosses plants, characters growing, clinging to the images of fame and obsessively attached to the spotlight even if it had all taken place in the ill-defined illusion. When it is no longer a fantasy as soon as the tragic reality takes over, Norma Desmond would go on the path of self-destructing by insensibly reflecting upon the vanity of her glory days. Succumbing to the delusion of Hollywood’s creations, she must have contemplated whether there…

Let Him Bleed...

Showing this to the folks who despise Punk and watch them manically gulp for air - because of the blunt meat-cleaver chops, flesh-torn carnage, gag and spit in your face, lockjawed disorder - is my simple pleasure. It’s Green Room hence what did you expect? Screw subtlety, fuck the system, decry the authority figures, spouting acids but for real, I doubt the Ain't Rights understand what punk is about. These people are just pitiful rats trapped in…

*Listening to Mitski’s Old Friend*

Maybe Chiron knows this feeling very well, may a little too well, the helplessness of having no idea where one is heading. When the world that evolves around him has instantly been yanked off; ripped to shreds until there is no more gravity to drag him back to safe zone, as we watch him get carried elsewhere by the current of time, of the ocean known as outer space. Like being forever lost in the…

*Romantic stroll continued*

Something about Carol just got me. Especially when the snowflakes began to fall down the earth, it made me feel slightly removed from reality, also mainly because of Carter Burwell’s exquisite melodies as well. And then suddenly a passage that I’d read from Murakami came back with absolute clarity, that Carol and Therese were wonderful traveling companions but in the end, they were no more than lonely lumps of beings moving across the galaxy.

The world never…

"I just have this talent for falling in love with the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Every once in a while, something unexpected can come along and take your breath away. This is it. Out of the blue, The Apartment walks up to the tiny room of my heart, light-heartedly opens the door and eventually welcomes itself inside without any consent, spreading an aura of comic pleasures that wonderfully embraces both pathos and love as…