An average documentary about a transcendental subject, bogged down by the regular shortcomings of its informative documentary style. Has a fun and cheeky editing style punctuated with gags, but with some strange editorial choices, such as the citation of Pitchfork review scores as an authoritarian extolment of Olivia Tremor Control's two albums; the viewer of this documentary doesn't need P4K to tell them that.
The thesis of the project is best summed up in the bonus content within its ending…
One of the most effective male melodramas I've ever seen, each interpersonal drama underlining some unspoken rule of male homosociality. Especially as it relates to the world of professional sport---one performs through pain, physical and mental, but you let it all go for your team. I cried twice.
Visually, a meditation on male bodies: muscles, sweat, and flowing jerseys. While I typically dislike the proliferation of CGI in anime (see: PROMARE), it's used to great effect here. Bodies float around…
The happiest Fruit Chan handover movie.
Shares a lot with Hong Kong "nostalgia films" of the decade. Like He Ain't Heavy, He's My Father, the action here is centered on a local community where everybody knows everybody else by name. Unlike the fantasy optimism of the latter film though, Little Cheung is grounded by its extreme realism. Fruit Chan's camera work has never been better, and these Kowloon streets have never been more realistically rendered.
It's a love letter and…
My indoctrination into film began with a 35mm screening of HARD BOILED, seven drinks deep, ass-planted in the rightmost seat in the front row of a sold out Cinema 3 at the TIFF Lightbox. Tickets purchased on a whim, because the cool looking guy on the poster looked sorta like me.
Watching HARD BOILED for the first time is like a revelation. A scientific experiment conducted via action cinema to test the limits of human testosterone production. Cinema to scream…
