La Ronde

Ten loosely-connected love and lust stories take place in Vienna at the turn of the 20th century. Soldier and prostitute, husband and wife, actress and poet, actress and Count, and many other unorthodox duos have brief and intense romantic affairs. Some last years, others just a few minutes. Some are just an embrace, others are laced with ardent sexual interaction. Obviously there is no nudity and sex. This is a film made in 1950, six years before Brigitte Bardot challenged sexual taboos in cinema with her curvaceous body at full display, in Roger Vadim’s And God Created Woman (1956).

On the other hand, the conversation are very candid, a sexual frankness completely alien to countries such as the UK and the US. These characters are bold as brass in their desire to love, cheat and lie. There are overt references to the topics of prostitution and adultery, and some very frisky, randy and proactive female characters. A mistress tells her married lover: “you wife is probably doing the same”, suggesting that adultery was the common currency, while also challenging his toxic masculinity. This is just one of the many dirty remarks that dot this cheeky, highly conversational movie affair. It would take Hollywood another 10 years before an unmarried man and a woman could merely share a bed (in the opening sequence of Hitchcock’s Psycho).

Featuring the biggest divas and heartthrobs from that era – Anton Walbrook, Simone Signoret, Serge Reggiani, Simone Simon,Daniel Gélin -, and marketed as an “anthology film”, La Ronde takes viewers on a romantic tour of the Austrian capital. A circular tour. A narrator (Anton Walbrook), credited as Master of Ceremonies, gently (and sometimes slightly confusingly) ties these overlapping stories together in round fashion. He sits on a merry-go-round, surrounded by a rotating stage and a carousel of images, in a movie that repeatedly references its own title. Love is a spinning wheel of fortune, it seems. In the end, it all comes full circle.

This is a movie bursting with inventive storytelling and framing devices. We often observe the characters from a distance, from behind a pillar or a bush, often with on a canted angle, as if reminding viewers that the nature of these liaisons is profane, and therefore it’s best to watch them surreptitiously. At one point, our adorable raconteur drags the film out of the reel, forcibly rewinding and rewriting the story. He also changes clothes and background (the urban landscape) in full view of audiences, reminding us of the myriad possibilities of cinema. This is a film unabashed in its theatricality, and also in its ability to subvert time and space. In other words, cinema has the power to take viewers wherever it wants, be that in the past, the present or the future.

The choice to have the story set 50 years earlier and in a foreign nation is a very peculiar one. The narrator explains: “the past is certain, we don’t know what the future brings”. This is a world still healing from World War 2. The indomitable desire to love and the fear for the future are entirely palpable. The fact that the film is entirely spoken in French (and its sensibility/ sexual frankness are indeed very “je t’aime, mon amour”) while set in a German-speaking city is probably explained by the fact that the director Max Ophüls was German. This could be interpreted as a gesture of reconciliation with the Teutonic friends (the invaders of yesteryear). Despite the claim that the story could take place anywhere in the world, this is a very French endeavour.

A 4k restoration of La Ronde is out in UK and Irish cinemas on Friday, September 8th, as part of the Save Curzon Mayfair campaign on Friday. The iconic cinema, built in 1934, was the first Curzon venue but is now in jeopardy. They explain why the film choice: “Max Ophüls’ magical portmanteau satire La Ronde generated 541,705 admissions at Curzon Mayfair during a run that lasted from 27 April 1951 to 9 October 1952. Over the years, the cinema has championed a diversity of brilliant films, from La Dolce Vita [Federico Fellini, 1961] to Howard’s End [James Ivory, 1992] and Parasite [Bong Joon-ho, 2019]. We need your support to continue that work. This rerelease is also in support of MediCinema”.

Afire (Roter Himmel)

Leon (Thomas Schubert) is a young writer on holidays with his art student friend Felix (Langston Uibel). They have travelled to Felix’s mum summerhouse on the German coast, near the city of Rostock. It’s summer, but Leon has little interest in the beach and partying; he’s more concerned about writing his latest novel. To his despair, the journey turns out to be far more complicated than they anticipated, with their car breaking down, and forest fires threatening to destroy roads and buildings. To top it all up, they have to share the house with a beautiful and mysterious a woman called Nadja (Paula Beer; the German actress is working with the director Christian Petzold for the third consecutive film, after 2018’s Transit and 2020’s Undine). She is the niece of a friend of Felix’s mother, and she is comfortably settled by the time the two males arrive.

Awkwardness prevails throughout Christian Petzold’s exquisite new creation. Leon is introspective, and he shudders at Felix’s and Nadja’s happy-g0-lucky, sexually liberated attitude. Super good-looking lifeguard Devid (Enno Trebs), with the perfectly chiseled body and angel face, soon joins the group, but Leon is unimpressed. There is a touch of sexual invidiousness in the air. Leon is a little chubby and not particularly attractive, or at least not confident about his appearance. The three others struggle to make Leon feel comfortable, and he increasingly withdraws into his shell, dropping the occasional anti-social bomb in the process. His friends challenge him to enjoy the moment – “look around yourself” – to little avail. He makes a couple of inadequate and even hurtful comments, and draws very rash and hasty conclusions about the others.

Leon’s publisher Helmut (Matthias Brandt) is due at visit at any moment, heightening our protagonist’s apprehension levels. The middle-aged and bespectacled man arrives in his small car and immediately bonds with the young people, increasing his client’s sense of alienation even further. Some very unexpected revelations are made during dinner. Not all was what it seemed. A conversation dotted with references to German writers is particularly insightful and revealing. The takeaways are clear as the daylight, even if you are not particularly familiar with German literature. Don’t judge a book by its cover. Don’t judge a person by their appearance. Don’t fall in love. Love is a foolish and selfish emotion.

The complex mind of the creative artist is the movie’s central pillar. Leon is insular and adroit. His verbal communications skills are awkward, in stark contrast to his flamboyant writing abilities. He lives in a parallel world, and fails to grasp some of the most basic rules of conviviality. There is a conflict between the colourful and liberating creation (Leon’s book) and the apathetic and captive creator (Leon). In fact, the writer is defined by this paradox. He has to misinterpret and subvert reality in order to concoct an original story, but he often collapses under the weight of the mission.

Sixty-two-year-old Christian Petzold, perhaps the biggest exponent of the Berliner Schule, has created a psychologically multilayered drama with enigmatic yet relatable characters, not entirely dissimilar to his previous movies. Afire is a philosophical and meditative film that uses literature as a gauge of very complex sentiments. It’s also accessible and intelligible. Despite a slow start, this is a movie that justifies its runtime, and its punch-in-the-face ending will stay with you for some time.

Afire is in cinemas across the UK on Friday, August 25th. On all major VoD platforms on October 28th. Also showing in the Best of Festivals section of the Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival, and at the 41st Turin Film Festival.

Top 5 bestselling movies of 2022: Hollywood hits back

Photo by Maria Teneva on Unsplash

The new Hollywood movies and their sequels have been a hit, and 2022 was an example of this. In 2022, there were several releases and sequels that hit the market, as many viewers have been anticipating viewing these movies. Many individuals booked their tickets immediately after they were released at the theatres.

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Due to the pandemic, most theatres experienced low turnouts as there mainly were no big movies as before the pandemic happened. Most of these movies were sequels because the pandemic altered the production of some movies. If you like films about the history of cars but have already seen all possible movies, then you can read interesting information about Formula 1 facts.

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1. Avatar: The Way of Water (James Cameron):

The first avatar was released on December 18, 2009. It is a science fiction movie made by Lightstorm Entertainment and written and directed by James Cameron. This was the first in the planned sequel of five films. The movie referred to the remote control of genetically engineered Na’Vi bodies used by humans for interaction with the general population.

Thirteen years after the release of the first film in the sequel, James Cameron finally released the second film in the sequel. The released film was available at the cinemas on December 16, 2022, and has since received a massive turnout at the cinemas. This film turned out to be one of the biggest December openings as it generated a huge domestic run.

The original movie generated an initial domestic run of $749.8 million during its release. Its released sequel showed the audience the career of blockbusters that Cameron is popularly known for. There is a strong demand for the movie, which fueled the interest in seeing the film in a good format.

Entering 2023, the film does not have a high level of competition; hence the sequel will have a great runway to build its box office achievement.

Director and Write James Cameron
Producer James Cameron and Jon Landau
Distributor 20th Century Studios Fox
Date Released December 16, 2022
Language English
Domestic Opening Weekend $134.1M
Domestic Total $446.9M
Overseas $307.6M

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The movie was the first major non-Chinese release in China and it earned 100% of its opening in China from 3D showings.

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2. Top Gun: Maverick (Joseph Kosinski):

This is one of the most popular and highest-grossing releases in 2022. It was released on May 27, 2022, and it has since generated huge funds because of its popularity. The movie is one of the most anticipated films of the year. This movie premiered on April 28, 2022, at CinemaCon.

Top Gun: Maverick is also a sequel to the original Top Gun (Tony Scott), released on May 12, 1986. In the film, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, whose real name is Thomas Cruise, is a courageous test pilot. He later found himself training Top Gun Detachment graduates for a specialised mission.

Tom Cruise also starred in another casino-related movie titled Rain Man (Barry Levinson, 1988). In the movie, an autistic man inherits a million-dollar trust fund. He has an estranged brother who is an autistic savant and makes use of his talent to count cards at casinos for his younger brother. They were seen playing some slot games that have no wagering casino bonus, with a minimumcasino deposit 1 pound.

The assignment of Cruise and the graduates was to destroy an unnamed enemy. Cruise is one of the most versatile, gifted, comedic, and dramatic actors. He acted in some of the bestselling movies such as Collateral (Michael Mann, 2004) and Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999) . The Tog Gun: Maverick, a thrilling film starring Tom Cruise, also led to the movie’s popularity worldwide.

Top Gun: Maverick’s opening weekend exceeded the expectations of the producer. The film gave the lead actor Thomas Cruise the first $100M opener of his career. Maverick is the only film in history to take a top spot on Labor Day weekend and Memorial Day weekend.

Director Joseph Kosinski
Producer Jerry Bruckheimer, Tom Cruise, and David Ellison
Distributor Paramount Pictures
Date Released May 27, 2022
Language English
Domestic Opening Weekend $126.7M
Domestic Total $719M

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Factors that impact the success of a movie

There are factors that impact the box office success of a movie and they are:

  • The level of competition during the release period of the movie.
  • How popular the film’s genre is currently.
  • The popularity of the movie’s content.
  • The effective marketing campaign of the movie.
  • Critical and positive reviews also help to drive attention to the movie.

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3. Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (Sam Raimi):

This is the sequel to 2016’s Doctor Strange (Scott Derrickson). In this film, the director pits the Master of the Mystic Arts against the Scarlet Witch. The film returned to the screen in 2022, pleasing both Disney and Marvel Studios and becoming one of the greatest releases in 2022. There was a device plotted in the multiverse which disrupted the balance.

Doctor Strange bounced through the various alternate realities to protect a dimension-hopping girl called America Chavez. He was also to stop the Scarlet Witch from using an evil spell from a book called the Darkhold. The Scarlet Witch intended to use the evil spell book to enslave the multiverse.

The film showcases Benedict Wong as Wong, Rachel McAdams as Dr Christine Palmer, and Benedict Cumberbatch as the titular wizard. There were hopes that the director Scott Derrickson would helm the sequel. However, due to time constraints and creative differences, he opted out early on to do The Black Phone (2021). Scott Derrickson delivered a more measured approach to the character and also delivered a genuine pathos of his origin story. You will be thoroughly entertained in the movie if your idea of a great Doctor Strange flick is a witchy mom trying to unite with her imaginary kids and clashing with a putrefying zombified sorcerer.

The movie has a lot of brilliant special effects, which give the audience an enthralling and thrilling moment. There were interdimensional contortions Cumberbatch experiences which will leave you strapped into the movie for two hours.

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4. Jurassic World: Dominion (Colin Tevorrow):

Jurassic World: Dominion finished filming during the height of the pandemic. It was also a vital piece that contributed to the recovery of the summer 2022 box office. The film reunited some casting members like Jeff Goldblum, Sam Neill, and Laura Dern with Bryce Dallas Howard and Chris Pratt.

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

The film scored the fourth-highest June debut in history by being behind Fallen Kingdom’s (JA Bayona,m 2018) $148M. Jurassic World: Dominion is a sequel to the original, which was Jurassic Park (Steven Spielberg, 1993). It was a bit of an improvement in some areas over the previous film. However, some audiences feel like it is time to let this good franchise rest as it has lumbered down from its classic start.

In the movie, there was a timely and breathtaking new adventure that cuts across the globe. Dominion began after Isla Nublar was destroyed, and the dinosaurs lived and hunted with humans worldwide. It is a fragile balance that will determine whether humans are to remain the apex predators on the planet they share with the most fearsome creatures.

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5. Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (Ryan Coogler):

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever made history and broke the overall November domestic opening weekend record. The record was previously held by The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (Francis Lawrence, 2013) by a solid margin ($158M). On the weekend of the release, the AMC recorded a domestic concession for the most beverage and food sold in a day in November.

IMAX also reported a new domestic weekend box office record of $14.2M in November. The movie also led five frames consecutively at the box office. It is the second highest-grossing movie of 2022. The following is some of the vital information about the starred actresses and the funds generated by the movie:

  • Director: Ryan Coogler
  • Writer: Joe Robert Cole and Ryan Coogler
  • Producer: Kevin Feige and Nate Moore
  • Production Company: Marvel Studios
  • Distributor: Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures
  • Date Released: November 11, 2022
  • Language: English
  • Budget: $250M
  • Starring: Letitia Wright, Danai Gurira, Lupita Nyong’o, Michaela Coel, and Angela Bassett
  • Domestic Opening Weekend: $181M
  • Domestic Total: $409M

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Conclusion

There were several movies released in 2022, however, there were some that had a huge audience waiting in anticipation for their release. These movies were sequels to their original movies that had been released years back. A lot of individuals launched to their nearest theatres on the day of release to watch these movies.

Critical Zone (Montagheye Bohrani)

Amir (Amir Pousti) picks his stash from the back of an ambulance inside a quiet tunnel. He then drives on, delivering various substances to people of all walks of life and both genders, living all over the Iranian capital. Amir is a 30-something, heavily-beaded, lonely male with sad eyes. His physique suggests a fortress of masculinity, his demeanour reveals a far more delicate and sensitive human being. His sole reliable companion is a small bulldog called Mr Fred. He begs a woman with whom he once had a relationship for affection: “just cuddle me overnight and go with any man you want during the day”, he tells her, before confessing that he is sexually impotent.

The life of our protagonist is mostly rudderless, the female voice on his GPS providing the most reliable guidance. “Turn left”, “turn right”, “beware of police ahead”, these are instructions that he can trust. Most of Critical Zone takes place inside Amir’s moving vehicle, both with the driver on his own and also in the company of his clients. The camera captures him from a variety of angles, emphasising a certain sense of imprisonment. Amir does find some sort of connection to his clients, and the conversations seem to offer him a little solace. These interactions are perhaps a subtle nod to Abbas Kiarostami’s Ten (2002), a quintessential Iranian movie about a taxi driver bonding with her customers (including some very transgressive characters) on the streets of Tehran.

Despite his vulnerabilities, Amir’s clients perceive him as some sort of father, doctor, or liberator. He delivers pleasure and healing to those afflicted by the various malaises of the body and of the mind. “I have faith in you, then in God”, one of his female clients tell him, before entrusting her son to the care of the substance dealer. He transports a dope-smoking, blue-haired woman to the airport so that she can finally break away from the deeply oppressive society that keeps her shackled. In the film’s climax, he bonds so intensively with one of his clients, that they begin to scream and roar ecstatically inside the moving vehicle. She eventually sticks the upper half of her body through the car’s sunroof without a hijab and continues to howl (pictured at the top of this review). Beyond cathartic.

Critical Zone is one of the most subversive Iranian films made in the past 45 years, at least from a social and cultural perspective. The film includes very graphic drug-taking (hash, weed and cocaine), corruption, adultery, promiscuity, the desire to escape to the US, a female character without a hijab, and even a woman uttering orgasmic moans loud and clear for everyone for hear. These depictions are a profound taboo in Iran, and artists are routinely imprisoned for much lighter offences. Ali Ahmadzadeh is a very audacious filmmaker, I just hope that he does not meet the unfortunate fate of so many others. Ali Abbasi’s Holy Spider (2022) dealt with the topic of prostitution and featured several women without a hijab, however – despite being set in Iran – the film was entirely filmed in neighbouring Jordan.

The narrative of Critical Zone is a very loose. The many fragmented stories are put together in order to create a cubist piece (ie. broken down and rearranged in abstract form). Dizzying camera effects and spinning lights create a sense of disorientation, emulating and perhaps even celebrating the effects of the narcotics (this is not a moralistic anti-drug movie). We hear fragments of poetry, some presumably written by Forugh Farrokhzad (the influential Iranian poet and film director is briefly mentioned in the film). The voices of the characters are often disembodied, or even in voice-of-God format, adding the final touch of eeriness to the story.

Ali Ahmadzadeh’s fourth feature film is indeed very “critical”, in both senses of the word. Firstly, “critical” suggests precariousness. These are people living a risky and unstable life on the margins of Iranian society. Secondly, it denotes some sort of denunciation. This is a movie that sets out to criticise Iran’s sanctimonious attitude towards its citizens. Not everyone is able to live a life as righteous as the government expects.

Critical Zone premiered in the Concorso Internazionale of the 76th Locarno Film Festival. It won the Golden Leopard, the event’s highest accolade. It shows at the Best of Festivals section of the 27th Tallinn Black Nights Film Festival.

Dreaming & Dying (Hao Jiu Bu Jian) 

They meet by a large hand sculpture that points towards the sky, otherwise known as the Inscription of the Island. Xiu (Doreen Toh) arrives first with a searchful stare, only to be accompanied by the sensitive Heng (Peter Yu). For them it’s a reunion. After how many years? We do not know, but her reaction to “Long time no see” says it all. Then another man appears, her playful Husband (Kelvin Ho). Without hesitation, he riffs on the other’s physical changes; the grey hairs, the extra pudding, the blemishes unravelled by time. We never know of the Husband’s name, which beckons his rude, unwanted presence throughout.

Whilst a discussion on global warming looms over a poker game, the film takes an ethereal turn. Narration lingers over Xiu’s coastal gaze, revealing her limerence for Heng like a dream, just before cutting to her toilet reading of A Mermaid’s Tale. These kaleidoscopic cutaways with Xiu reveal that Heng is a Merman who has been driven out the sea by cause of modern human pollution, which he pairs with a plea to join him in a new life. The revelation here is destined to surprise you, but the film’s stretched premise and frustrating surrealism will likely deter you away from its wavelength.

A spiritual journey begins from here, made literal with credits finally rolling in around the 25-minute mark of Xiu and her Husband entering the jungle, immediately calling to mind Weerasethakul’s Blissfully Yours (2002). But it’s also where the film’s palette runs thin. Camerawork becomes rigid, and at odds with the couple’s inspired purpose. Whilst surreal cues of the ailing Merman slash the flow and sever any sense of metaphorical enlightenment. This becomes much too apparent once the fish talks and laments on the bloodshed of Neptune with the Husband, showcasing all but the flair of a Sega fishing title.

It’s once we’re past the lumbering Husband and out the forest’s path where the film picks back up. For when Xiu is left to just a cove and her incense later on, does this saving grace begin to light the way. Her surroundings illuminate like a hidden treasury, teaching us an untold mythical history without any words to speak. Only amplified with a soundscape of leaking water drops and the bellowing groan of a close omen. It’s a sequence that places us right in the visceral, finally leaving our imagination to piece together a deeper meaning.

Even with the final image we’re left with, there’s promising use of a long, purposeful shot here than what we’ve just endured before. But by that point, it’s too little too late to notice all the trimming that’d have benefitted any lasting closure for our trio. Director Nelson Yeo clearly holds a unique interest in exploring time and shifting memory, with hints of the Husband’s reincarnation and trailing omens promising a more desirable tale. But perhaps Yeo’s mediation on the afterlife would be better suited in a more contained, short film form. As even at a 79-minute runtime, the journey taken feels more sightseeing than soul-searching.

Dreaming & Dying is Nelson Yeo’s debut film feature, having premiered in the Filmmakers of the Present Competition and won a First Feature award at the 76th Locarno Film Festival.

Whitewashing the miscreant

It took me nearly four weeks to watch Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer for a number of reasons. Firstly, I was still recovering from my Barbie-induced comma, thoroughly enjoying my existence in an alternative pink world. Secondly, I am not a big fan of the 53-year-old British-American director: I find his aesthetics irritating, and his movies boring and pretentious. Thirdly, our talented writer Victoria Luxford had already written a review of the film for DMovies. To top it all up, the accusations of sexism – with many pundits pointing out that all of Nolan’s film may fail the Bechdel Test – made me even less enthusiastic about watching it. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare me for what I was about to see. Oppenheimer is far worse than I feared. Not in my wildest dreams did I anticipate such a poorly disguised, shameless celebration of US military belligerence. A geopolitical weapon as dangerous as the atomic bomb. It has the power to destroy critical thinking, to whitewash mass murder, and to erase solidarity with the victims.

Let’s start with the topic of female representation. I believe that the accusations of sexism are entirely founded. Not only does the film fail the Bechdel Test, but also the only two significant female characters are entirely one-dimensional and uninspiring. J. Robert Oppenheimer’s (Cillian Murphy) lover Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh) only appears a few times, and she’s almost invariably naked (whats are lovers for, after all?). She exists solely for the purpose of providing Oppie’s consciousness with a sounding board. His wife Kitty (Emily Blunt) has a permanently sad and gloomy face, and very little to say about her husband’s predicament. Plus, despite having a baby, she is entirely desexualised (asking a woman to be a mother AND a satisfactory sex partner both at once is just a little too much, isn’t it?). There is no female politician or scientist at sight, except for a woman who Oppie promptly orders: “put her in the plutonium team”, only for her face never to be seen again. Is this a reflection of the time? Not entirely. An American woman received the Nobel Prize for Medicine in the 1940s (the decade in which most of the film takes place). Several African-American women received a PhD, and one became a staff supervisor at Nasa. American physicists Frances Spence, Ruth Teitelbaum, Marlyn Meltzer, Betty Holberton, Jean Bartik and Kathleen Antonelli became the first computer programmers in the world. All roughly at the same time.

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The first dirty trick

Since the end of WW2, the US has promoted the false idea that the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were necessary, and that they saved more lives than they claimed. It has furiously dismissed those who question the dubious paradigm as anti-patriotic haters. Oppenheimer seeks to cement this lie further, permanently silencing any discussion.

Nolan’s historicity is highly selective. It barely acknowledges that the War in Europe was finished and Hitler was dead when bombs were dropped, and that a Japanese surrender was likely in August 1945. Not a triviality. These crucial facts are very quickly brushed over, and never discussed in detail. This is no mean feat in a film with a duration of three hours. The entire moral argument for developing the a-bomb repeated. several times in Oppenheimer is that the Americans should build “the strongest explosive” before Germans and Russians. Such argument was no longer valid at the time the weapons were detonated. Dwight Eisenhower, supreme allied commander and future president of the United States later confessed to his biographer that both bombings were not needed at all. He claimed that “the Japanese were ready to surrender” and that “it wasn’t necessary to hit them with that awful thing”. He concluded: “I hated to see our country be the first to use such a weapon”. His words should have been emblazoned in the opening of the film; instead they are omitted.

Simply put, the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were just a grotesque display of geopolitical strength.

The film spends a long amount of time on shoddy physics lessons (so incomprehensible that I had to look up “quantum mechanics”, “isotope” and even the difference between the atomic and the hydrogen bomb as soon as the film was finished) and tedious debate between scientists and politicians – why could it not allow a significant amount of time for essential geopolitical contextualisation?

Trump challenged Obama not to apologise on his trip to Hiroshima in 2016. He never did. Nor did Biden, who visited the Japanese city just this year. On the other hand, Japan have apologised profusely for Pearl Harbor. That’s because Americans take it for granted that the use of the atomic bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was inevitable, and any discussion around this topic is not welcomed. Oppenheimer attempts to corroborate this falsehood by inserting a character boldly claiming that the Japanese “will never surrender”, without providing any evidence whatsoever to support this very questionable assertion. There is even a touch of sadism: “I bet the Japanese didn’t like it”, says a smirking Oppie about his invention.

The bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were a turning point in American history, the time when US firmly established itself as the most powerful nation in the world. It is barely convenient for the US government to reveal that their destructive foreign policy has killed in excess of 20 million people worldwide since WW2 (that’s more than three times the number of Jews killed by the Nazis in the conflict). Well, I expect no American president to challenge the false orthodoxy and apologise, but I do think that cinema has the duty to subvert these paradigms and open people’s minds. Cinema should question the unquestionable. Nolan’s film does precisely the opposite: it legitimises it. Despite its seemingly explosive nature, Oppenheimer will not open any minds. On the contrary.

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The second dirty trick

There is another significant dirty trick in Oppenheimer, this time not a historical one but an illustrative one instead. The total number of casualties (220,000) is indeed mentioned in the film, however it is never represented. Responsive mimicry (ie. the sentiments of allegiance, compassion and solidarity that film elicits from viewers) requires a visual or at the very least a sound representation. Oppenheimer has neither. Just the mere mentioning of a number is not enough. We never see the face of these victims, we never hear their voices. This could have been 220,000 cows, pigs or bees. These victims are entirely robbed of their identity and their humanity. We never see a Japanese person in the movie (even the word “Japanese” is barely uttered). Not even in the extensive oneiric/allegorical sequences (surely if Oppenheimer was that tormented by the deadly repercussions of his creation, he would envisage the victims in his dreams) Instead, the explosion is presented as something beautiful, hypnotic, even fascinating. We watch the overpowering fire, the mushroom cloud and creepy atomic representations fly around at the speed of light with a loud buzzing sound, but we never see the destruction that they caused on Japanese soil. Not one frame, not for one split second. At one specific moment, Oppie laments that he has “blood in his hands”, however we never see the colour of such blood (neither a real-life representation nor a representation in the dreams that allegedly torture our noble protagonist). And we never hear these 220,000 people talk, scream in agony, or desperately plead for their lives. Not for one split second.

It is downright insulting that someone should make a film about the alleged suffering of the creator of the atomic bomb, while blatantly and entirely neglecting the suffering of the Japanese. Viewers are consistently made to empathise with the tormented yet virtuous protagonist, and never with the real victims.

By sanitising mass murder, Christopher Nolan makes it palatable, even beautiful and enjoyable to watch. So beautiful that for a few moments sound is almost entirely removed so viewers can enjoy the colours of fire in their full splendour. People head to their local IMAX in order to experience what it’s like being inside the flames of bombs that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki, however Nolan never puts his audiences in the shoes of those who suffered the most. I could almost see an Oppenheimer Disney ride soon, magnificent with pyrotechnics and sound engineering, the pinnacle of bad taste, but not a sign of what it was like to be on the ground of Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the time. It seems that the American company may already be moving in that direction.

This is not dissimilar to what Nolan did in Dunkirk (2017), another bloodless, non-violent, and bewitching portrayal of WW2 (something I discussed years ago in my article “Why does Nigel Farage like Dunkirk so much?”).

While painted as some sort of self-reflective historical drama, Oppenheimer barely allows for any sort of reflection. None of Christopher Nolan’s films do. The frenetic editing (there is a cut every few seconds), rhetorical dialogues and incessant music are not conducive to reflection but to manipulation instead. Oppenheimer hardly allows audiences to breathe, let alone to think. This is a movie that instead tells people how to think. And the conclusion is crystal-clear: the atomic bombs were necessary, and those who invented and oversaw its use were deeply moral and responsible people.

Despite setting out to present Oppie as a man tortured by the repercussions of his invention, that’s hardly the case. Our protagonist does not dwell on guilt and misery for too long (except perhaps in the final 15 minutes). And it’s not mass destruction that torments him. His biggest fear is that the explosion could not be contained, triggering a chain reaction that would destroy the entire world (including the US), a concern dismissed by Albert Einstein. And he is more worried about proving his allegiance to the US than reflecting on the human cost of his invention.

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The greatest nation of all

The biggest focus of Oppenheimer is on the race to develop the atomic bomb. Such scientific prowess is celebrated ad infinitum. Oppie and his associates are jubilant at the first controlled explosion of the atomic bomb. At one point a scientist does bemoan that “hundreds of years of physics could culminate in a weapon of mass destruction”, but this concern is quickly discarded as the film consistently fails to reveal that the use of the bomb may have been entirely redundant. A show-off of military power, with some meaningless six-digit figure attached to it (the number of casualties). This is hardly unusual in US foreign policy. When questioned about the deaths of 500,000 Iraqi children (the figure being explicitly compared to casualties of Hiroshima and Nagasaki), Bill Clinton’s Secretary of State Madaleine Albright infamously replied: “The price is worth it”.

We soon learn that anything is “worth it” in the name of American imperialism. About a third of the film (mostly in the end, in a narrative that confusingly zigzags back and forth in time) consists of Oppenheimer on tril years after the war. But it’s not for the murder of 220,000 innocent people. It is his loyalty to the US that’s being judged. Many suspect that Oppie is a secret Soviet agent, highlighting that his wife and friends were once members of the Communist Party. Oppie’s wife Kitty comes to his defence, asserting that she left the Communist Party… 16, 17… actually 18 years earlier, and that her husband was never a member. Phew, this vague left wing allegiance was just a fleeting mistake of youth. Oppie is a good American in whom we can trust after all!

In other words, Oppenheimer is a shameless apologia of American imperialism. An ardent emblem of nationalism. And a piece of propaganda.

From the Leopard’s mouth: our verdict of the 76th Locarno Film Festival

Our partnership with largest film festival of Switzerland and the second oldest one in the world started in 2019, when our writer Redmond Bacon attended the event for the first time. We have since provided in loco coverage of this diverse and international film bonanza. Not an easy task. Locarno showcases on average more than 200 films per year. In 2023, the 11-day film marathon included 350 screenings divided into 12 sections (three competitive and nine non-competitive ones), talks, events, art exhibitions, parties, and a lot more. Each evening, up to 8,000 people gathered on the Piazza Grande, Europe’s largest open-air theatre, in order to watch international film premieres under the starry sky of the mountainous region of Ticino (Switzerland’s only entirely Italian-speaking canton). As Redmond decided to seek pastures green with his own endeavour, I attended the Festival myself for the first time. What an incredible ride I was in for!

In total, we reviewed 17 films (you can read the pieces in our review archive), and conducted two interviews: one with the iconic LGBT+ “king of slow cinema” Tsai Ming-liang (who attended the event in person in order to receive a Career Achievement Award), and another one with the Festival’s Artistic Director Giona Nazzaro (this was a catch-up on the conversation that we started two years ago, when he started his new position).

I carried out most of the work in loco, with a couple of remote helping hands helping me out in order maximise our coverage. Still no easy task. It is hard not to be overwhelmed by diversity of the selection, and the allure of so many film auteurs. Quentin Dupieux, Ken Loach, Radu Jude, Lav Diaz – just where does one begin? Not to mention the genuinely refined selection of short films in the Pardi di Domani (“the leopards of tomorrow”, in free translation).

My dirty favourites in the main Competition (Consorso Internazionale) this year were Quentin Dupieux’s Yannick (pictured above), a hilarious metacomedy that liberates viewers inconveniently bound to their seats, and Laura Ferres’s The Permanent Picture, a dark portrait of Spain now and under Franco (with an aesthetic touch of Ulrich Seidl). In the Pardi di Domani section, the biggest standouts were Julian McKinnon and Fiume’s La Vedova Nera, a dirtylicious Franco-Italian tribute to giallo, and Urša Kastelic’s Remember, Broken Crayons Colour too, a deeply poetic Swiss documentary about a Jamaican trans woman. They all left empty-handed.

The Golden Leopard went to Ali Ahmadzadeh’s Iranian drama Critical Zone (review to follow soon), while the Special Jury Prize of the Cities of Ascona and Losone went to Radu Jude’s Don’t Expect Much from the End of the World, a highly inventive comedy and a caustic satire of Romania (pictured below). Best Direction went to Maryna Vroda for Stepne, a sombre and sullen Ukrainian drama about a man returning to his native village in order to care for his ailing mother. The two Performances Leopards went to Renée Soutendijk in Ena Sendijarevic’s Sweet Dreams, a profound period drama about Dutch colonial relations, and Dimitra Vlagopoulou for Sofia Exarchou’s Animal. The Special Mention Award went to Sylvain George’s Obscure Night – Goodbye Here, Anywhere, a very long documentary that exoticises Moroccan boys living in the Spanish exclave of Melilla.

Other prizes include the Ecumenical Jury Prize, which went to Simone Bozzelli’s Patagonia, a twisted queer coming-of-age tale with some beautiful and disturbing moments, and the Pardi di Domani’s Silver Leopard to Leandro Goddinho and Paulo Menezes’s Paradise Europe (aka You are so Wonderful), a visceral, funny and realistic LGBT+ drama about a Brazilian gay man flat-hunting in Berlin.

Ken Loach attended the event in person, and showcased his new creation The Old Oak, which premiered in Cannes three months earlier. The film is an authentic and captivating portrayal of poverty, xenophobia and failed refugee integration in Northern England. The social realist director gets to the roots of racism without condoning it. He received a warm ovation as he presented his film at the Piazza Grande, while also remaining loyal to his socialist values in his speech (he criticised the Festival for counting a bank among its sponsors). He won the UBS Prix du Public Audience Award.

I look forward to the 77th edition of Locarno!

Our dirty questions to Tsai Ming-Liang

Having been a huge fan of the 65-year-old director – perhaps the most prominent LGBT+ filmmaker in Asia and certainly one of the biggest exponents of slow cinema in the world -, I couldn’t wait to meet Tsai Ming-liang in person. I first watched The River (1997) when I was still a teenager in my native Brazil while working at the Sao Paulo Film Festival, in the year then film was originally launched. Ming-liang’s tender and subversive sensibility shocked and moved me profoundly. He has firmly remained on my radar since.

He attended the 76th edition of the Locarno Film Festival. On August 3rd, he received the Career Leopard Award in a nearly packed Piazza Grande (which can host a whopping 8,000 film-lovers). Giona A. Nazzaro, the Festival’s Artistic Director explains: “The cinema of Tsai Ming-liang entails a passionate convergence of stories and languages. From the outset he has been able to capture the multiple identities of a creative pathway through the complex articulations of both Taiwanese history and his personal story as a Chinese moving between Malaysia and Taiwan”.

The art exhibition entitled Moving Portraits was also held in Locarno. Its included experimental audiovisual works such as exhibition Transformation (2012), Your Face (2018) and The Tree (2021), curated byKevin B. Lee. His experimental pieces, much like his feature films, are very slow-paced and require a lot of love – and hours – in order to be appreciated in their full splendour.

Ming-liang was born in Malaysia to Taiwanese parents, and he moved to Taipei at the age of 10, where he still resides. He has a career spanning more than three decades, and 11 feature films. He won many prestigious prizes around the world, including the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival for Vive L’Amour (1994). The remained particularly active in the 1990s and 2000s, when he became widely recognised for the topics of unfulfilled sexuality, loneliness, alienation and the passage of time. His films have since became more sparse, with most of his recent output dedicated to exhibitions. He only made one feature film in the ’10s, the tragic and gloomy Stray Dogs (2013). His last film Days was released three years ago.

The director does not speak any English, and our brief interview was aided by a sharp interpreter, courtesy of the Festival. We started our conversation discussing realism. “My films come from life, real life. That’s why I show a lot of loneliness. The characters show their personality through behaviour, not words. I really care about authenticity, that’s one of my biggest pursuits. I want audiences to feel this authenticity. That’s why I don’t leave much room for performance. In general, ordinary actors are afraid of not being able to perform. On the other hand, non-professional actors don’t know how to perform, and instead just do what they are asked to do. Even with non-professionals, I don’t give many instructions. I just put them in certain space and environments, and their own actions or behaviours will take care of the rest. And sometimes these reactions are completely unexpected”.

Ming-liang has consistently used a combination of professional and non-professional actors in his films, and he has a very close relationship with them, particularly 54-year-old Lee Kang-sheng, who has starred in every single one of his 11 feature films. “I live very close to my actors, physically and figuratively. Lee Kang-sheng lives in the same neighbourhood as me. So I observe him, I often watch his life”. He then explains that his closeness enables him to observe the passage of time more effectively, and that he intends to do a film about ageing. “I want to shoot a movie about myself at the age of 60. Because that’s when I realised my body is going through a lot of changes. But I want Kang-sheng to play that role, so I am waiting for him to turn 60”. The passing of time is a recurring topic in many of Ming-liang’s movies (such as 2001’s What Time is It There and Days), and also in his filmography as a whole (as the director observes Kang-sheng’s real-life ageing).

We also talked about the importance of sounds, and their purpose on the elusive search for authenticity: “My films are full of sounds. These are sounds of everyday life, reality replaces the music score. Sometimes these sounds are exaggerated. The objective is to highlight the inner loneliness of the characters. [We hear these sounds] as if they were close to their ears”. I asked him why I asked why Days is “intentionally unsubtitled” (as announced in the beginning of the film). “I don’t really believe in film dialogues. They are not real. That’s just too dramatic”, he explains in his soft and calm voice.

Next, we talked about equality rights. His face lit up, and the director became visibly proud when I asked him about Taiwan being the first country in Asia to legalise gay marriage (in May 2019), and whether he thought that his art played a role in changing the nation’s hearts. He gives a prompt and confident answer: “Yes, I think that my films contributed to same-sex marriage. I really appreciate these changes in Taiwan. I arrived in Taiwan 30 years ago, and I met a local activist who was campaigning for gay rights with placards on the streets back then, and he is still doing that. I want to ask you a question. How many different types of people do you think God created? Just men and women? Gays don’t decide they become gay, right? Flowers can be green, yellow or red. In Taiwan the young generation can really be themselves. I’m glad to live in such a place”.

We finished our interview by talking about another topic close to Ming-liang’s heart (and other parts of his anatomy). I asked him: “Is it ok if we talk about sex?”. He promptly replied “yes”, in English and before the question was translated, with a big smile on his face. I carried on: “Sex in your films is very beautiful, but also very subversive. You get a huge age gap [Days], incest (The River], prostitution [What Time is It There?, Days] and even watermelons [The Wayward Cloud, 2005]. Is subversive sex more beautiful than traditional sex?”. He retorted: “I like sex a lot. But I’m old now! The sex that you see in my movies is actually beautified. Sex in real life is like eating, or other human relations. The more authentic part of sex isn’t so beautiful, not so perfect. When audiences look at sex in my films, they don’t just see sex, they also see dominance, the inability of communicate and loneliness. In Days, for example, you cannot deny that sex was transactional, yet you cannot deny it brought consolation to a lonely person”.

Let’s hope that Tsai Ming-liang’s future projects come to fruition, that there is no shortage of sex – beautified or not -, and that we can continue to observe the passing of time in the life of the artist and his favourite actor Kang-sheng.

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Tsai Ming Liang is pictured at the top and at the bottom of this article (alongside Victor Fraga), snapped by Victor Fraga. The image at the middle is a still from Days.

Dammi

Our protagonist bemoans: “The ‘what if’s are fucking exhausting”. Studying identity and its relation to our journeys through space and time, Dammi is all about the ‘what if’s of life. In other words: the crossroads that define our sense of self. As demonstrated in these mere 16 minutes, few leading men can pull off the conflict that arises from such an exploration better than Ahmed.

Riz Ahmed’s character is effectively unnamed, but he mentions in a voiceover that he used to be called Mounir and we see him introduce himself as Mounir when he returns to Paris. Incidentally, that’s the director’s middle name (Yann Mounir Demange). We will refer to his character as Mounir in this review.

We find ourselves in Paris, among the French-Algerian community to which Mounir’s father belongs. But Mounir is neither French nor Algerian, he isn’t even called Mounir anymore – that’s a name and identity his family left “buried here in Paris” when he left for England as a child. What he does know is that he is a Londoner. Yet here he is, seen stalking the streets of the French capital at night, in search of roots, or something resembling them.

Both the Franco-Algerian director and the British-Pakistani actor grew up in London.

It’s little surprise that this film’s world premiere was accompanied by the presentation of the Excellence Award Davide Campari to Ahmed, whose career has been defined by roles such as this. From Four Lions (Chris Morris, 2010) and Nightcrawler (Dan Gilroy, 2014) to his star turn as Naz in TV drama The Night Of (2016), the British actor has demonstrated a deft touch when it comes to conflicted, imperfect protagonists. His visceral acting style, harking back to the ‘angry young men’ of the British New Wave, is all the more intense in Dammi due to the short runtime and close proximity that director Yann Demange keeps the camera to his star. This is an uncomfortably intimate portrait of a man on the edge.

Demange is best known for ’71 (2014) and White Boy Rick (2018), but Dammi will surprise viewers familiar with those works. In this film, his camera shakes, sways and, at one point, falls to the ground. Few shots last more than a couple of seconds, as we struggle to put together the pieces of Mounir’s identity. He is fixated on the past and haunted by the idea of determinism, like his story already has an ending that he cannot avoid. Alongside Demange’s cinematography, a number of dreamlike sequences create a disorientating effect as Mounir’s understanding of his past and his surroundings unravels, and our position in space and time becomes unclear.

Ahmed has worked on plenty of big-budget franchise movies, but it seems he always feels at home in this less glamourous world of clashing identities and cultural grey areas. Demange, on the other hand, is set to make his mega-budget debut with Marvel Studios’ Blade in 2025. I’m not going to get my hopes up about a similarly experimental work joining the ranks of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but if his next feature has half the boldness of this magnificent short, it will be some upgrade on the usual superhero slop. Let’s hope that as soon as he’s done with that project, the French auteur returns to give us a more generous helping of the murky world he’s created in Dammi.

Dammi premiered at the 76th Locarno Film Festival as part of the Opening Ceremony, when this piece was originally written. Riz Ahmed received the Excellence Award Davide Campari. Also showing at the 3rd Red Sea International Film Festival.

La Vedova Nera

QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM LOCARNO

A young male teen (played by Italian actor Siro Pedrozzi) hops on his bicycle one day after school in Marseille. He falls and hurts himself inside a tunnel. He then pops is at strange local cinema in order to use their telephone, claiming that he lost his mobile during the minor accident. The movie theatre is showing La Vedova Nera, a fictitious movie about a black widow (played by French filmmaker Marina de Van). The far and few people in the audience, however, are busy with far more mundane, carnal affairs. Suddenly reality, hallucination, allegory and the film-within-the-film morph into one single terrifying dimension.

From this point on, the storyline becomes entirely subordinate to the visuals and the sounds. And that’s fine. Sit back and enjoy the wild ride. You’re in for a delicious gumbo of cinematic tricks, references and devices.

At a taut 21 minutes, this short film pays homage to giallo movies, particularly those of Dario Argento. There is no shortage of blood and frantic running, as our helpless young man desperately attempts to escape this scary fantasy. The imagery successfully combines the dark and the sombre with the colourful and the vivid, creating a disorientating sense of space. The pervasive and incessant music score blends Italian pop music, electronic beats and frenetic strings, thereby helping to confuse and hypnotise viewers further.

The topics of sadomasochism, murder and gay sex gradually intoxicate the mind of our young protagonist. He is trapped somewhere between extreme fear and arousing. Perhaps not coincidentally, the French call the brief post-orgasmic sensation of weakening or unconsciousness “la petite mort” (“the little death”, in free translation). The effectiveness of Pedrozzi’s electrifying performance is aided by his stunning looks: he has the ephebophilic allure of Timothee Chalamet in Luca Guadagnino’s Call me By Your Name (2017).

La Vedova Nera premiered on August 11th at the Pardi di Domani section of the 76th Locarno Film Festival. Its images and sounds will echo in your head for a long time. Particularly next time you enter a creepy little cinema on your own.

This piece was published in partnership with Ubiquarian.

Behind the scenes: how the digital gaming industry draws inspiration from movies

he line dividing film and digital gaming continues to blur. Films inspire games, lending their visual aesthetics, engaging narratives, and iconic characters to create immersive gaming experiences. In turn, these games attract a broader audience and extend the life of movie franchises. But how does this transformation happen? Let’s explore behind the scenes.

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The symbiotic relationship between film and digital gaming

Over the years, an array of unforgettable movies have made the successful leap from the big screen to the digital gaming sphere. Take The Godfather (Francis Ford Copolla, 1972), for instance, a film revered as a timeless masterpiece. Copolla’s critical darling not only revolutionised cinema but also inspired a series of successful games that captured the intense family dynamics and strategic gameplay that echoed the film’s plot.

Similarly, Peter Jackson’s King Kong (2005), a film teeming with prehistoric creatures and heart-pounding suspense, was skilfully adapted into an action-adventure game, reimagining the movie’s thrilling narrative into a gripping play-through that brings players face-to-face with the gargantuan gorilla himself.

The list doesn’t end there. Other notable examples include GoldenEye 007, an immersive game based on the James Bond film that set a new standard for first-person shooters, and Scarface: The World Is Yours, a game that allowed players to step into the charismatic yet ruthless world of Tony Montana, brought to life so memorably in the classic Al Pacino film. Then, of course, there’s Star Wars, an iconic franchise that has given birth to countless games across various genres. From intense starfighter battles to intricate role-playing games, these adaptations have kept fans engaged, ensuring the Force continues to thrive in our cultural consciousness.

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The transformation of iconic characters into virtual heroes

The allure of a film often lies in its memorable characters. Digital gaming not only recreates these iconic personas but also breathes life into them, providing players with an unparalleled opportunity to step into the shoes of their favourite characters. The Harry Potter series serves as a prime example of this transformation. With a flick of a wand, fans are transported into the magical world of Hogwarts, delving deep into various games and effectively becoming part of the narrative they have come to cherish. Further exemplifying this transformation is Mad Max, which has been beautifully rendered into an expansive open-world game. Here, players don the persona of Max, the lone warrior, navigating through the desolate wastelands of a post-apocalyptic world. Similarly, Batman: Arkham Asylum transforms fans into Gotham’s vigilant protector, the Caped Crusader, battling infamous villains in the shadowy, peril-ridden halls of Arkham Asylum. Such immersive experiences bridge the gap between viewers and their on-screen heroes, creating an interactive world of cinematic magic.

Even the online casino industry draws inspiration from films to create engaging gaming experiences. Take the world of online slots, for instance; they often adopt film themes to create a familiar and engaging environment for players. There’s Jurassic Park Gold, The Goonies Return, and Top Cat Most Wanted, which are just a few slot games that come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Look at the Jurassic Park slot, for example. It borrows from the iconic movie, incorporating elements such as the prehistoric setting, dinosaurs, and even snippets of the movie score. The game allows players to reminisce about the thrill of the original movie while enjoying a digital gaming experience. The Goonies Return is another slot game that banks on nostalgia. It uses the memorable characters and the treasure-hunting theme of the original movie to create a gaming experience that’s both enjoyable and familiar. Top Cat Most Wanted, inspired by the classic animated series, also made its way into the slot gaming world, retaining the charm of the original characters and the urban setting. It offers players a unique blend of nostalgia and fun, harking back to their favourite cartoon.

In summary, from recreating epic narratives to transforming beloved characters into virtual avatars, the digital gaming industry owes much to the world of cinema. This symbiotic relationship allows both industries to reach new heights, with games expanding the audience base of movies and movies, in turn, providing rich content for game development.

So, next time you come across a game inspired by a film, take a moment to appreciate the behind-the-scenes effort that goes into crafting these digital experiences. And remember, this is not just a game; it’s a whole new way of experiencing cinema.