Sequels come with expectations, perhaps of inevitable disappointment. The two predecessors to this film were solid, tense and imbued with the adorable coupledom of John Krasinski and Emily Blunt who further burrowed into our hearts during Covid with their goofy charm.
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Refreshingly unpredictable and the kind of film that would usually have been about blokes, not daughters and body building lovers.
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There aren’t many films I watch where I feel my heart is in my mouth right up until the final act. Alex Garland is not one of my favourite directors so perhaps my expectations were slightly lowered for this intimate meditation on media and the personal choices we make.
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It’s feeling like a bit of a golden age for horror films where they are more than just a vehicle for shock.
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Yes I could have seen this one on streaming on my TV screen but I chose to treat myself to a cinema viewing. I’m a very big Yorgos Lanthimos fan, particularly his early Greek-based works and a little less so of his more recent Hollywood outings. Kinds of Kindness is a mostly successful amalgamation of them both.
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This is one of those films that it’s better to go into not really knowing much about it, which makes it really difficult to write a review about it. So if you are planning to watch this, perhaps stop now and come back to my review after you have seen it.
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I feel enchanted by this unexpected emotional journey from the top of Alaska to the tip of Patagonia.
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I’m not sure what I was expecting out of Julio Torres’s sweet and quirky almost fairytale about speaking up for yourself. Something easy to watch. I wasn’t expecting to find it so poignant.
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It’s quite possible that I should’ve given this film a miss. It started at 11:45 pm and I knew I had a morning film the next day. I kind of got caught up in the rush to get there and enthusiasm to see something a little bit weird late at night, something that I would never have the chance to see elsewhere.
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After sitting through four hours of McQueen’s Occupied City, I walked into slow cinema maven Tsai Ming Liang’s 70 minutes of a monk walking slowly.
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