It's been hard for me to cry, except in films. Cinema has enabled me to process my emotions, provided me an outlet where I can release everything that suffocated me from within. Yet, its been rare that I cried for myself than for the film, or its characters. There are many films that will make you cry for their story, but there will only be a few that will make you cry for your own story. These handful of films…
Discomfort...is an experience? Perhaps when the body and mind are not allowed to claim the space they rightfully need to function with dignity? The film's sols merit lies in its ability to elicit discomfort, albeit different from inducing anxiety. This is something I've found previously in Haneke. But Speak No Evil is not nearly as smart as it would like it to be. A terribly contrived screenplay that shifts the entire burden of suspending disbelief on its audience. One needs…
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
I kept imagining how futuristic the house would be in the third segment as the film ventured across three different eras but I got a broken, dilapidated building in a flooded area that had nothing around but water. It was the moment of horror as I had to come to terms with the most probable reality.
The most glaring problem with biographical cinema in general, and particularly biographical cinema in India, has been the filmmaker's awe of the subject to an extent that entire films function around single characters thwarting them into a vacuum due to the lack of focus on the socio-political, cultural and economic situation of the times these subjects function in/were functioning in. The romance with a protagonist works well in thrillers when you also intend to betray them in the end for…