Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (“Gods of Egypt”) stars as Max, an insurance detective with a growing tumor in his brain. As part of one of his investigations, Max discovers a place called The Aurora, sort of a bespoke-assisted-suicide facilitator. The place seems outwardly helpful but maintains quite the mysterious aura. What method does one wish for one’s…
As an adult in her 30’s, hearing tales of mythical creatures such as unicorns, Santa Clause, or RuPaul seem entirely plausible. There’s still some sparkle left in the sun, so they must (like talking M&M’s) exist. Yet I find it hard to believe that we live in a world that still makes movies like The…
A middle-aged man (Surapol Poonpiriya) picks up a teenage girl (Prapamonton Eiamchan) from school. The way he’s smiling at her, you’d think he’s her adoring father. Suddenly he punches her for swearing and expects her to give him a handjob. He drives her to his shabby “love hotel,” Motel Mistress. Tot Niyom (Wissanu Likitsathaporn) is…
Piercing has the singular, most chilling opening sequence I have ever seen in a movie. I don’t think it can get any more horrifying than an ice pick brandished in a newborn baby’s face. This immediately set me on edge, and this tension continued all through the exposition. It seems that Reed (an eerily unsettling…
Unpredictable is a word one could use to describe filmmaker Drew Goddard, known for penning such polarizing films as “Cloverfield” and “The Cabin in the Woods,” as the “Daredevil” TV series creator is certainly not shy of finding the proverbial box and intentionally jumping outside of its lines. Though his fan-base reaches from the most…
“Just another Wednesday,” the visibly fatigued nurse exclaims as she tends to a bullet wound of one of the guests of her dimly lit, blood spattered hotel for crooks. The only rules of the underground institution: No guns, no cops, and no killing of other guests. Throughout the film’s jaunting plot we watch thieves, assassins…
It’s funny what language can do, the unintended irony behind words and concepts and colors that were likely never part of any authorial intent. But, then again, maybe they were. That’s the inexhaustible fertility of art; it transcends, whether it wants it or not, intentions. That’s the case with Spanish, still sprouting in a place…
