Brent Marchant's Blog

Well-made arthouse films are, without a doubt, the cinematic genre that I enjoy most. Which is why movies that unsuccessfully attempt to pass themselves off as such annoy me to no end, particularly when they give the genre itself an undeserved reputation. Regrettably, that’s very much the case with writer-director Sven Bresser’s debut feature outing, “Reedland.”

Finding compatible companions – let alone good friends or romantic prospects – seems to have become considerably more problematic than it once was. Such kindreds appear to be more elusive nowadays, and forging meaningful, lasting connections with them – for whatever reason – has become fundamentally more difficult, sometimes driving us to great lengths and even acts of desperation. That can be especially true for those in communities that fall outside the mainstream, as well as those grieving the passage of loved ones who are having trouble recovering from their losses. And now, in this latest offering from actor-writer-director James Sweeney, audiences get an opportunity to witness these dynamics play out firsthand in an unlikely but affecting, heart-tugging scenario.

In an age where life’s everyday challenges can test our wits, becoming overwhelmed is a real possibility when they pile up. Just ask Linda (Rose Byrne), a therapist who struggles to sincerely and sensitively assist her troubled patients. But that’s just the start of her problems.

While in our youth, as we struggled to understand the puzzling nature of life, many of us likely heard our elders say, “You’ll understand someday when you get older,” advice that we probably tucked away in good faith for future reference. But how many of us actually came upon that promised understanding when we grew into adulthood? Chances are, many of us patiently awaited the arrival of such insights only to discover that said assurance about them never panned out as hoped for. In fact, I’m willing to bet that failed expectation happened more frequently than not. And, in this sophomore feature outing from director Clint Bentley, that scenario would again seem to be the case.

No matter how much we like to think that life’s bigger concerns have the greatest influence in dictating our actions, it’s nevertheless curious to see how the issues that affect us most personally – those seemingly “smaller” considerations – ultimately hold the most sway over our behavior. That becomes apparent in this latest offering from writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson, based on the 1990 novel Vineland by author Thomas Pynchon.

Landmark moments in virtually every area of endeavor are worthy of, and frequently celebrated in, films that applaud the significance of these accomplishments, and that even includes groundbreaking developments in moviemaking. These cinematic commemorations are generally imbued with a sense of respectful reverence regarding their subject matter, recognition befitting such achievements. However, the latest offering from director Richard Linklater presents a puzzle on that front, given that it incorporates a pervasive degree of ambiguity that may leave viewers scratching their heads, despite the undeniable excellence of the picture itself.

Reviews of "Bugonia" and "Eternity," along with a Chicago Film Festival wrap-up, are all in the latest Movies with Meaning post on the web site of The Good Media Network.

Tune in for the latest Cinema Scribe segment on Bring Me 2 Life Radio, beginning Tuesday November 25.

Life can sometimes present us with hard choices. However, strange as it might sound, death might actually hand us some even bigger ones. That might throw us for a huge, unexpected loop, especially if we go into the afterlife envisioning it as a stress-free experience, one assumed to be characterized by unending happiness and bliss. Such is the dilemma posed to a recently deceased woman who now faces a decision that’s not at all what she anticipated, a choice far greater and more difficult than anything she experienced while alive.

Splitting a single story into two movies is a risky production decision that sometimes pays off and sometimes doesn’t. Is it truly merited artistically speaking, or is it simply an attempt at an unabashed box office money grab? When the creators of the cinematic adaptation of the smash hit Broadway musical Wicked announced in 2022 that they would be depicting the material through two films, the decision was met with somewhat mixed reactions. Could the pictures each stand alone despite being parts of the same story? Would the first installment be strong enough to retain audience interest over time before the release of the second part (in this case, a year, far longer than a typical Broadway intermission)? And would there be a distinct enough connection to seamlessly tie the two movies together?