u/Necessary_Run3148

>Longing. Longing for a wave of love to swell up in me. That's what makes me so clumsy: the lack of pleasure. A desire to love. The desire to love!

The Inspiration behind City of Angels, it is one of the best movie about loneliness.

It is one of the most visually and structurally audacious biopics ever made. Rather than offering a conventional portrait of Yukio Mishima, director Paul Schrader blends biography, literature, and fantasy into a mesmerizing exploration of an artist obsessed with beauty, discipline, death, and legacy and hasn't won any Oscar.

Tokyo! is an anthology film helmed by directors Michel Gondry, Leos Carax, and Bong Joon-ho.

This film comprises three distinct stories, each crafted by a different non-Japanese director, all set in Tokyo. As is typical with anthologies, the quality of the segments varies.

Gondry's segment, Interior Design, inspired by Gabrielle Bell's comic Cecil and Jordan in New York, begins strongly but ultimately undergoes a peculiar and poorly executed transition in both genre and tone.

Carax's contribution, Merde, utilizes Akira Ifukube's iconic Godzilla theme in a segment that is both odd and seemingly pointless. I found myself somewhat relieved when it concluded.

Bong's Shaking Tokyo stands out as the finest of the three, addressing the prevalent hikikomori phenomenon in Japan, where individuals isolate themselves from society. Although it may push boundaries like the others, it is a delightful narrative that is also exquisitely filmed.

Also you can watch Paris, Je T'aime (2006), New York I Love You (2008), Rio, I Love You (2014) & Berlin, I Love You (2019).

It’s a perfect mix of political commentary and the intimate rhythms of high school friendships. The film moves effortlessly between casual teenage banter, subtle comedy, and an undercurrent of anxiety shaped by constant earthquake alerts. A reminder of instability humming beneath everyday life. Then there’s the house music, pulsing through certain sequences like a release valve, turning restlessness into movement.

It was totally unnecessary. . .

It is a cinematic fever dream — panning shots, minimal dialogue, and drenched in eccentric dark humor.

*“This is the true friendship when two people can sit in silence.”* And yet, *“Why you can’t be like other people?”* lingers like a quiet scream throughout.

Imagine *Taxi Driver* shot by Wes Anderson, then dipped in absurdity, wackiness, and a soundtrack that swings from classic psychedelic to Cambodian rock and country twang. It brushes its broom across every great directorial homage with style and mischief. It has everything a normal Bollywood film *never* dares to touch — so if you love Bollywood movies, this is **NOT** for you.

It is easily the most absurd, baffling, and gloriously weird Japanese movie I've ever seen. Calling it a movie almost feels inaccurate, it's more like a three-hour fever dream assembled from random thoughts, strange dreams, surreal comedy sketches, science fiction concepts, musical performances, and pure nonsense. Yet somehow, against all odds, it works.

The film unfolds as a collage of interconnected and completely disconnected episodes featuring unpopular-with-women brothers, dancing schoolgirls, alien encounters, bizarre creatures, awkward family interactions, giant fish, strange dreams, and moments that seem to exist solely to make the audience ask, "What on earth am I watching?" There is no traditional narrative to hold onto. Instead, the film drifts from one surreal situation to another, embracing chaos and absurdity with complete confidence.

What makes It so fascinating is its refusal to follow any recognizable structure. One moment you're watching a deadpan comedy sketch, the next you're witnessing an alien communication sequence, followed by an extended dance performance or a scene involving some of the strangest creatures ever put on screen. The movie constantly surprises you because it operates on dream logic rather than conventional storytelling. Every time you think you've figured out its rhythm, it takes another bizarre turn.

When Italy was producing more horror/slasher movie there was Cinema Paradiso (1988) - A movie about movies....

It's an emotional movie about friendship, love, fear, grief and joy. One thing I noticed about this movie is that it has many wide-angle panning scenes which is unusual for many Italian movies of that time.

Caution: It can make you cry!

From my Criterion Collection, Klute (1971) is a slow-burn neo-noir that thrives on mood and character rather than plot.

It could be titled as 'Bree' as Bree has more screen-time and her side of story throughout the movie.

>“What I would really like to do is be faceless and bodiless and be left alone.”

Jane Fonda delivers a remarkable performance, bringing vulnerability and complexity to Bree, while the film’s shadowy New York atmosphere keeps the tension simmering throughout. Quiet, unsettling, and deeply character-driven.

They Will Kill You is a delirious blend of Kill Bill, Ready or Not, and splatter-horror mayhem. Kirill Sokolov throws subtlety out the window in favor of relentless gore, dark comedy, and inventive action, while Zazie Beetz carries the chaos with undeniable charisma. The plot is thin and the film often mistakes excess for depth, but it's hard not to admire its commitment to being completely unhinged.

As Lilith warns, “Our offering is on the loose,” and from that moment on, the movie becomes a blood-soaked sprint that rarely slows down. Stylish, ridiculous, and surprisingly entertaining if you're willing to embrace the madness.

It is one of the most quietly devastating science-fiction films of the 21st century. What begins as a familiar story about a spaceship drifting off course gradually transforms into an existential meditation on humanity's desperate need for meaning in an indifferent universe.

Rather than relying on spectacle, the film focuses on psychological and societal decay, observing how people cope when hope itself becomes a finite resource. The sterile beauty of the spacecraft contrasts brilliantly with the emotional collapse unfolding inside it, creating an atmosphere of creeping dread that only grows more haunting with time.

Bleak, philosophical, and profoundly human, Aniara isn't interested in comforting answers. It's a film about denial, mortality, and our fragile place in the cosmos—and its final moments are among the most crushing in modern science fiction.

Winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes, It is one of the sharpest and most uncomfortable social satires of the 21st century. Ruben Östlund crafts a film that dissects the hypocrisies of modern liberal society with surgical precision, exposing the gap between the values we publicly champion and the way we actually behave when those values are tested.

Set within the contemporary art world, the film initially appears to be a satire of artistic pretentiousness, but it quickly reveals itself to be something much broader. Östlund is interested in power, class, privilege, performative morality, and the gradual erosion of empathy in a society obsessed with image and self-preservation. Nearly every interaction becomes a social experiment, forcing characters and by extension the audience to confront their own contradictions.

What makes It so brilliant is that it never offers easy answers. Instead, it presents a series of awkward, hilarious, and deeply unsettling situations that expose how fragile our social contracts really are. The film constantly asks difficult questions: How much compassion are we willing to show strangers? What responsibilities do privilege and status carry? At what point does self-interest override our principles?

Backrooms + Obsession = #Backsession

Anyone up for watching Backrooms and Obsession this Sunday at Nueplex?