These are the movie premieres that hit the screens starting this June 2:
By Salvador Llopart
What to say about an animated movie like this, that blows your mind? A wildly groundbreaking proposal, driven by the pathos of the most unexpected comic. Where the form becomes the background and supreme reason, until reaching the limit of the communication capacity – of expressionism, one would say – of drawing, thus renewing the rhetoric of superhero cinema, in danger of becoming stagnant (and of extinction).
We could say that, with its mere existence, Spider-Man: crossing the multiverse, has made all existing animated cinema old. Including Pixar movies, so far the measure of modern animated expression. One does not dare to say that we are facing the future of animation. In line with the same narrative premise of the film, the future is a random network of paths that fork. But it is certainly a step in that direction: something we will remember.
I have also said that it is a rabidly groundbreaking work and that means that it is not for everyone, no. No work that opens the way, in art, even in popular art, is for everyone. It is for those who take risks. Cheer up, then, brave ones!
To understand each other, and bridging the gap, it is like the Everything at once and everywhere in animation. Its predecessor, of which it is largely a continuation -I mean Spider-Man: a new universe (2018), recognized with the Oscar for best animated film- presented its protagonist, Miles Morales. A fifteen-year-old Chicano and black -he has everything to be a multicultural hero- who, by a simple twist of fate, has replaced Peter Parker, the traditional Spider-Man. Once again we are in the multiverse, you know, that place where narratively everything is possible, because there are infinite universes, and everything has consequences, because everything is interrelated. But here that “everything” is bigger, more excessive and variegated, more unexpected as well.
It is not worth entertaining more with the story, a path that multiplies in a thousand paths. It is only necessary to add that he has the necessary energy to sustain a high-risk artistic exercise, where one is wondering all the time, but can this be done? And yes, it can. Where everything is on the verge of collapse and one ends up exhausted. It’s not a movie, no. It is an experience. And on top of that, it ends with the “to be continued” of a future installment. There is no right, no. For the wait.
By Jordi Batlle Caminal
That free spirit who dazzled us almost thirty years ago with his outstanding first feature film, The White Balloon (with a script by his teacher, the teacher of all, Abbas Kiarostami), continues to fly high, very high, in the film sky even though they have cut him off. the wings. Because Jafar Panahi has been vilely punished by the Iranian theocratic authorities for a good handful of years and has suffered bans, house arrests, prison and a long Via Crucis. But at no time has he stopped filming. From hiding and tenacious resistance, he has compulsively persevered in the task of recording with his camera everything his eyes see and his heart feels. What is most surprising in Panahi is that, with what he has suffered in recent times, he does not foam at the mouth: there is in his recent works (This is not a movie, Tehran Taxi or Three Faces) contained rage, but they have not lost the sweetness The sweetness of a humanist poet.
In Bears Don’t Exist we see Panahi secluded in a small town near the border with Turkey, filming from a distance (from his computer) a semi-documentary fiction that takes place in the big city, living humbly in absolute precariousness (wifi, for example, it is a constant problem) and interacting with the locals, who are rather hostile towards him. The town, obviously, is the metaphor of the prison, and here Panahi would be the specter of the Turkish Yilmaz Güney remotely controlling Yol behind bars. It is a sad and disillusioned film, but sprinkled with humour, disconcerting macguffins (a passport, a controversial photo…) and a crystalline purity in its expository simplicity. As a self-portrait of a filmmaker, he vindicates cinema as a vehicle for the transformation of reality and as a gesture of dignity and civil commitment. Panahi is a giant of the seventh art hidden behind the self-imposed image of a simple, modest and colloquial man.
Por Philipp Engel
As if it were the sequel to Cinco lobitos, the melancholic Laia Costa has just separated and lives a long first weekend away from her little daughter. To alleviate her sadness, she decides to go to her family home in Vall Fosca, where she will live fleeting reunions with which she will not feel very connected.
The film contains a memorable scatological twist, and is an elegant exploration of the B-side of the separation process for a generation that would have it as very normalized. Although there are also cracks that the director of Las distancias (2018) does not dare to enter.
Por Philipp Engel
Praiseworthy dramatization that tries to dismantle the propaganda mechanisms of the Islamic State through the story of a rapper of Moroccan origin who ends up becoming the cameraman of the sadly famous videos of the terrorist group. Mass executions, torture, enslaved women, harsh combat scenes: all the panoply of the disappeared caliphate, with a great display of media, a convincing setting and even vindictive musical numbers.
However, it may leave the impression that it is not much more than a counter-propaganda exercise, to prevent recruitment.
Por Philipp Engel
Among the new generation of Spanish filmmakers there are two tendencies that RocÃo Mesa brings together in her first fiction feature: girls who live initiation adventures during the summer in the rural world of their grandparents, like that of Ojos negros, and jaded adolescents trapped in their town, like that of the water.
These two recurring stories intersect in the landscape of the tobacco dryers of the Vega of Granada, where a charming monster worthy of Maurice Sendak lives, giving rise to not a few sparks of creative magic. A psychedelic fable about an empty Spain full of inventiveness.
By Salvador Llopart
It was the seventies and Herberto Padilla believed he was capable of giving Fidel Castro a wrestling match. Even more: after his arrest, he believed himself capable of mocking Castro with a histrionic confession of his revolutionary sins. A confession lost in the cellars of the bureaucracy until Pavel Giroud recovered his filming (he has not yet said how).
Padilla is the show. Giroud puts the counterpoint with interviews and statements that make evident the causes of the ideological schism of what has come to be called The Padilla case.
By Jordi Batlle
An exotic and extravagant gastronomic fable, with a rather disjointed structure. It proposes, among unnecessary subplots, the confrontation between a prestigious French chef and a much more modest Japanese chef, and exalts the so-called umami, that taste that is neither sweet, nor salty, nor sour nor bitter, but which constitutes an orgasm for women. taste buds.
Enormous Depardieu, not because of his pachydermic volume, but because he continues to be a cinematographic beast of the first order.
