Lately I have been seeing more and more posts, tweets, quotes and articles about Gen Z’s decreased interest in sex scenes in movies and TV. This npr article mentions a study that shows that “Generation Z is far more interested in seeing stories of platonic relationships on screen than those featuring sex and romance”. I can understand being against gratuitous sex and romance that is completely unnecessary to the plot. I cannot understand being against nudity and sex as basically “completely unnecessary”. Sex, nudity and romance can be incredible important to the story. It helps show vulnerability, weakness, desire, insecurity, excitement and love. Sex and romance are also such a large part of the human experience to so many people. They are deeply important and connecting to so many people as well.

All of this makes me wonder, can you be anti-sex and anti-romance and still consider yourself a cinephile? Or do you think this would exclude you from too much important cinema that you could only be considered a casual movie lover? I personally think that if you are unable to connect with movies that feature sex and romance, you cannot take in enough of the full cinematic experience to be considered a cinephile

Edit: I was watching Thelma and Louise which features a sex scene between Thelma and JD (a young Brad Pitt). I think the movie is better because it features that sex scene. If it were removed from the movie, it would have been a worse movie because of it. The sex helps sell you on how charming Pitt’s character is to be able to trick Thelma like that. It also shows you how Thelma’s sexual experience was very intense and pleasurable for her, contrasting how sexually unfulfilled she was in her crumbling marriage. It also shows her being excited and giggly after having a great sexual experience, a feeling that (hopefully) many people can connect to. The sex scene served multiple purposes to the movie and if it hadn’t featured that sex scene, the movie wouldn’t have told the full story as well as it did

Edit 2: I think one of the only things that might be an apt comparison, is saying you won’t watch any films with violence or crime in them. If someone said they can’t enjoy any movies with violence or crime, they would be missing out on such a huge portion of influential and popular movies

I saw the movie yesterday, one thing that really stood out to me was Hwan Yoon's character.

It would be so easy for them to just make him a one note hardcore Christian charlatan, but there are some interesting things they do with his character to complicate things (even though in the end they are still Christian extremists):

- in the fight in the strip club-turned-church he yells at his followers to not use their guns because there's a baby involved.

- the director could've easily made them all white guys to equate them to white supremacists (hell, their logo somewhat resembles the KKK as well), but he deliberately makes his band of fanatical followers diverse. The director I think said something about how he intentionally made the leader of the Christian cult a "colonized Korean". Reminds me of the choice to make the main vampire in Sinners Irish

- His attempt to deescalate things before the last fight in the mansion. This could read this two ways: either he's genuinely scared of what Latif can do and is just trying to prevent more of his men from dying (even though Latif has a sword and is outnumbered by his men who have guns), or he genuinely feels some kind of empathy/respect for him. He even invites him to share to the followers what Ramadan means to him; I think this invitation is genuine on some level and reflects that he does have some kind of respect for Islam

But I think the most interesting aspect of this is his reaction to the miracle at the end of the movie. A charlatan who doesn't actually believe in what he preaches wouldn't react like that; it's like he's realizing in real time that Latif has received divine providence from God/Allah the same way he received it in Iraq (he even asks Latif "who's praying for you?"). After the miracle he doesn't even try to fight Latif anymore. I think by the end of it all he sees Latif as an instrument of God - the same way he sees himself.

What do you guys think? I thought it was really interesting for the movie to portray a Christian fanatic who, despite being extremist, isn't a one note mustache twirling villain who just wants to kill all Muslims.

I watched it as a teen and found it painfully unengaging, it went right over my head.

Revisited it yesterday and thought it was very good, and respected that it didn’t pander to the naive - it assumes an adult audience who understand politics (be those of municipal government or the mob), and the rat-a-tat dialogue and complex plot doesn’t wait for dummies, like my teenage self, to catch up.

Great performances across the board. Pacino rocks as ever, and Cusack plays his young Southern protege called ‘Kevin’ - exactly like Keanu the following year in The Devil’s Advocate. Weirdly, Keanu’s Southern accent was far more convincing than Cusack’s is here.

Script by three titans - Paul Schrader, Nicolas Pileggi and Bo Goldman - is rich, snappy and fast paced, and along with director Harold Becker (reteaming with Pacino after Sea Of Love) create an unmistakably NEW YORK thriller.

Apparently the original Schrader script was a bigger, darker epic. It feels like that was squeezed into something more like The Firm (1993). It’s a solid 7.5/10 and a must-watch for Pacino and/or Cusack fans, or anyone who needs their Noo Yawk fix.

Haven’t seen much discussion on this and am curious about consensus (or lack)...

Just had a (rare for me) 3rd watch last night and this film continues to reveal so many turns and previously unnoticed cinematic gems, amazing for such a short and simple story. Dialog is extremely minimal and purposeful; intense action delivered with half-glimpses that deliver incredible moments of tension, impact, and emotional punch.

Favorite Joaquin Phoenix performance, or certainly one of them.

It's obvious why she does it in context, but why is it in the film itself?

Context:

3 Samurai and one of the farmers (the one who has been most keen on fighting back against the bandits from the beginning) go to the bandit hideout to cause some difficulty for the bandits before they attack the village. It's hinted at clearly that the farmer had a wife before and is sensitive on the topic, and then during the attack on the bandit hideout where one of the buildings is burned while they're sleeping, it's shown that the farmers wife is alive in the building.

When she's last to leave the burning building, she and the farmer see each other, and then she kills herself out of shame.

Question:
But why is it in the movie? As far as I gathered, the movie is mostly about the different personalities of the samurai, the farmers collective personalities, and how the two groups interact, and how they are working together against a common goal, and the sadness the samurai experience for their nobility of doing something purely for goodness sake. And the cool camera work/acting/the usual Kurosawa stuff.

Was Kurosawa making a comment on how Japanese culture's emphasis on honour isn't that great, because "look how it tarnished what should have been a good victory over the bandits"? I suppose maybe that feels odd to me because in the current day and age it's such an obvious idea that honour deaths are insane that it seems unnecessary to point them out, and times were different in 1950's Japan and earlier.

Maybe it makes the first death of a samurai more impactful because he's trying to save the farmer, whereas if the wife hadn't been there and the farmer wasn't being distressed outside the burning building, it would've been less potent if the samurai just got shot in a regular fight. But then I feel like that cheapens what happens to the woman.

Could also be another layer of suffering the village has experienced through the bandits, highlighting the respectability of the samurai's decision to help them, but that's kind of half the point of the movie, so a bit redundant.

Maybe all of the above.

Is there another cinematic/script writing explanation?

edit: less than 20 minutes and already downvoted without a reason. A move almost as classic as the movie itself.

Yeah, there’s certain aspects that fall flat in comparison to Tarkovsky’s masterpiece….but man, this is still a deeply rich film.

Initially, it seems like Soderbergh is mostly concerned with the tragedy of the central relationship (which I think he nails quite poignantly), but film is still philosophically, psychologically, and ethically rich.

The whole tension between real and apparition, and what constitutes being a human, I think film captured really well some of the core themes of the novel. It really does seem that Rheya is having a conscious experience…..does this make her real? And even though Rheya rejects this idea, and she seems to view herself as a memory, her reasons for why she doesn’t believe she is a human adds another interesting layer to this theme. And the entire ethics around killing the manifestation, the question of whether, it’s murder is shrouded in ambiguity.

And Chris’ inability to let her go, with the hope of resolving his guilt, to just watch another attempt at his relationship ultimately fail, was utterly brutal.

Please don't downvote opinions. Only downvote comments that don't contribute anything. Check out the WHYBW archives.

Edit: My goal is simply to point out the parallels between the two films and, hopefully, help us appreciate both of them even more. There’s no accusation of copying or ripping off here. I’m not sure why some people are getting defensive on behalf of the filmmakers over what was meant to be an appreciation of their work.
Cinema, like all other forms of art, is built on layers upon layers of inspiration, influence, and reinterpretation. We all stand on the shoulders of giants who came before us!

While watching You Can See Everything, I could not stop thinking about how much it mirrors Orson Welles’s F for Fake. As it turns out, I’m not the only one: at least a couple of film critics have pointed out the similarities since the film debuted, and honestly, if you watched this documentary and enjoyed it, you should absolutely seek out F for Fake to see what Fielder and Oppenheim seem to be building on. When Welles made F for Fake, he was documenting a famous faker and art forger, Elmyr de Hory, who is as interesting as Holmes, if not more! Welles was simultaneously making you question the very concept of what being fake or real means. He did this partly by hinting that he himself might be faking it and fooling you. The makers of You Can See Everything take that Wellesian move and refine it by making the filming, the filmmaker, and the act of reconstructing events part of the story too.

Similar Structure: A Documentary That Meditates on Itself
Both films turn the documentary back on itself, though F for Fake questions its own truth claims throughout, rather than only in its second half. Welles moves from examining forgers to examining cinema and its methods. Fielder does something similar, moving from examining Elizabeth Holmes to examining the act of documenting her. Things get more interesting by bringing actress/model Amanda Seyfried into the second half as a collaborator, mirroring how Welles brought actress/model Oja Kodar, his collaborator and co-writer, into F for Fake as his on-screen partner. She becomes part of the filmmaking process itself, which complicates who’s being observed and who’s doing the observing. That’s how both directors make the form inseparable from the argument about truth and deception.

Bragging About Past Fakery:
Both Welles and Fielder establish their credentials as deceivers while they examine deception. Welles keeps invoking his 1938 War of the Worlds radio broadcast, which was widely reported at the time as having tricked listeners into believing an alien invasion was underway. He references it multiple times throughout F for Fake and uses staged visualizations of the broadcast, along with material about its reported reception. He also hints, pretty directly, that maybe it wasn’t so inadvertent after all. Welles even gives us reason to question his own account after asking us to trust him. Fielder does something similar with Nathan for You. He points out directly to Holmes that he used to do an entire show about business scams and fakery, and now here he is documenting a real case of deception. Both are essentially saying the same thing: I have a documented track record of being able to construct reality and manipulate audiences.

Sympathy or Admiration for the Subject:
Welles does not hold back on expressing an intellectual admiration for de Hory’s audacity. He treats his subject as a fellow trickster and a fascinating specimen of deception, viewing his life as a masterful performance rather than a tragedy. This relationship is one of professional kinship, where Welles celebrates the skill of the illusionist rather than the plight of the man.

Similarly, in You Can See Everything, there’s a moment where Amanda asks Nathan if he cares enough about Liz to show her in a good light, and the film immediately cuts to footage of him genuinely enjoying time with her, swimming and actually connecting. It’s like he is pictorially confessing it right when the question is being asked. What was fascinating to me is that it mirrors something that happened in the last episode of Nathan for You, where Fielder seemed to get emotionally involved with one of the people in the story, an escort, and you could feel the line between performance and sincerity blurring. That is its own rabbit hole with lots of theories and speculations. By showing that emotional involvement with Liz in the swimming scene, he’s acknowledging that pattern. He’s admitting the bias while filming. Both directors are saying: Yes, I am invested, and here’s the evidence, and I’m showing it to you anyway.

The Magic Trick Link: What Makes a Faker a Faker?
To me this is the thematic core of both films. Welles actually performs a magic trick for a boy on camera in F for Fake, and it’s not a throwaway but his metaphor for how deception works. Fielder references the David Blaine ice-pick trick, suggesting that Blaine may actually have a hole in his hand, so part of the trick is real. He then tries to use that as an analogy for Holmes’s magic and how she deceived serious people like the four-star general "Mad Dog" Mattis or Larry Ellison. But the implication Fielder builds is that part of her magic might have been real, at least to her. She believed in the trick even as she was executing it.

Both films are asking the same essential question: How do you document the truth about someone whose entire existence is a performance, when the act of documenting is itself a performance? They answer by making the performance visible, the filmmaker complicit, and the magic trick the truest thing in the frame.

There is a scene in the movie which has a very American & Jewish discussion of the word 'can'. In the scene in question, Nathan Fielder & Elizabeth Holmes along with her husband, Billy, have a long discussion over whether or not Elizabeth's use of the word 'can' is misleading. Now the way in which this is distinctly American is that it recalls the argument put forward by President Bill Clinton during his impeachment on what the meaning of the word 'is' is. That episode was a terrific example of how historian Eric Hobsbawm's described America as "forced into the straitjacket of an 18th-century Constitution reinforced by two centuries of Talmudic exegesis by the lawyers, the theologians of the republic..." The American tradition fits in with Nathan Fielder's own personal interests of Jewish tradition of argument, Talmudic scholarship.

Nathan Fielder has explored Jewish themes throughout his work, with more humor in Nathan For You & The Rehearsal but far more artistically, though still comedic, in The Curse where the finale features him being sucked away into space. This is an allusion to Yiddish tradition, the notion of "luftmensch" but taken to its most literal sense as an "air person". As opposed to its more classic meaning as vagabond or petty traveler, it can also refer to daydreamers or artists. All of these fit the character that Fielder portrays in these movies and also a clear fascination of his throughout his career. (Credit to this post)

Past Lives was lovely for many reasons, great writing and performances, and I couldn’t help but really feel these actors faces and go through my own sappy emotions. The story is uncomplicated, I understand the immigrant element is in the forefront but for me you can experience a similar kind of identity loss moving someplace new as a kid, happened to me many times.

I was anticipating them getting back together and then when I knew it was already over the rest of the film was just heartbreaking, and when they’re walking with the husband and he feels awkward I was super uncomfortable for everyone.

Lovely movie, what do y’all think?

Lots of people framed Billy as either a gullible heir or a calculating opportunist, but I think what Billy and Liz are saying is genuinely true: they are building a monument of love.

This doc is an obsessive, high-stakes love story built on an interlocking psychological puzzle.

Why Billy Loves Liz:

If Billy operates with the classic fragile grandiosity of the NPD spectrum, his inner world is inherently vulnerable to slight, humiliation, and the urge for revenge. For a man wired that way, watching the world try to shatter Elizabeth Holmes only for her to stand there like a literal rock is intoxicating. She does not weep, panic, or fold; she simply refuses to register shame. To his fragile ego, that impenetrable calm looks superhuman. She is not a fallen CEO to him—she is a demigod.

Worshipping her offers the ultimate resolution to a grandiose savior complex. He isn’t merely marrying an heiress or managing real estate; he is an anointed crusader. By stepping between a misunderstood goddess and an uncomprehending, hostile mob, his life acquires mythic significance. Defending her allows him to strike back at the world’s mockery, turning its contempt into the holy fuel of his mission. He constantly feeds back the exact affirmations she needs, diligently tending the altar of her delusions because her absolute certainty is what keeps his own identity afloat.

Why Liz loves Billy:

The common assumption is that Elizabeth should resent Billy—that a controlling, frantic heir hovering over her shoulder and managing her image would eventually suffocate her. But that fundamentally misreads how her mind operates. Elizabeth doesn't resent his grandiosity; she is utterly in tune with it, because Billy’s particular brand of narcissism provides the exact psychological infrastructure she requires to survive.

Elizabeth is no helpless waif, nor is she a standard calculating con artist. Her cognitive baseline exists on a peculiar, off-world axis where empirical failure simply doesn't compute. But keeping that kind of radical detachment alive in the real world is exhausting work. The entire legal system, the media, and the public were aggressively trying to force her to concede: You lied, you failed, you broke the law.

An ordinary, grounded partner would have urged her to face reality, take accountability, or quietly grieve. That kind of partner would have been poison to her. She would have hated someone who tried to save her by forcing her to see the truth.

Enter Billy. His hunger to play the heroic, embattled crusader means he doesn't ask her to repent—he demands that she remain pure. He takes all the toxic sludge of the outside world—the lawsuits, the press cameras, the mockery—and absorbs it into his own vengeful war against an uncomprehending public. By letting Billy step in and orchestrate the defense, manage the optics, and dominate the practical logistics, Elizabeth buys complete psychological immunity.

Surrendering control to a protective, dominating man isn’t a concession for her; it is a masterstroke of emotional engineering. She happily gives up the mundane steering wheel because it keeps her core fantasy entirely pristine: she gets to remain the ethereal, misunderstood visionary who is merely "thinking differently" while her high priest handles the mud. She loves him because his need to worship a goddess is the only thing on earth that allows her to remain one.

The Monument of Love:

That worship translates into concrete, liturgical devotion. When Billy meticulously captures 3D scans of Elizabeth so their children can still feel her presence during her eleven-year sentence, it functions like an early devotee casting icons of a living saint. His pledge to be outside the prison gates at 9:00 AM sharp every single visitation day isn't just punctuality—it is regular attendance at Sunday Mass, keeping the sacred covenant intact. Whispering about launching a next-generation laser-and-AI venture from their bedroom while the federal intake clock ticks down isn't simple denial; it is reciting the scripture of their shared church.

They constructed a fortress of two against a world they both reject. It is disturbing, delusional, and undeniably romantic: a crusader laying siege to reality itself to keep his goddess untouched.

Crazy romance but hella compelling, 10/10!

One of the interesting things about Fassbinder’s Querelle is how much the extraordinary theatrical visual style can distract from what's happening between the characters.

What's always struck me about the film is how Fassbinder reverses the relationship between Querelle and Seblon in Genet's novel. What do you make of that change?

Then I just came across this short film commentary that discusses many of the things that also occurred to me as a gay man. Did anyone else get the joke at the end of Fassbinder’s film?

In the snow how did you interpret Carlos’s line “What if they don’t find me?” at the end? I wondered whether it refers specifically to Lorca’s remains never being found, or more broadly to the fear of disappearing before anyone knows who you really are.

I’m also curious about the story of the drowned boy. Was it based on a real event or drawn from Lorca’s writing, and how did you understand his appearance in the final snow scene?

This latter-day Nicholson outing directed by Sean Penn and starring a wealth of heavyweight actors in even the smallest roles deserves more attention.

Mickey Rourke, Vanessa Redgrave, Benicio Del Toro, Helen Mirren, Tom Noonan, Robin Wright etc etc, hell Harry Dean Stanton is basically an extra! The cast alone should pull you in.

Nicholson is Jerry Black, a retiring cop who pledges to find the killer of a murdered girl. What follows is a snowy Scandinavian noir type detective thriller/drama… with real staying power.

The source novel has been adapted before but this is the only version that the writer approves of, it doesn’t compromise on the story’s most potent aspects.

The film moves slowly and could have perhaps done with another round of edits to move things along more fluidly, but with so many great actors it’s kinda nice to bask in their talent.

Spoilers ahead for those who have seen it…

I think the idea is that Jerry‘s ‘pledge’ is catastrophically naive, because random chance ends up killing the killer just as he’s on the way to Jerry’s trap. This leaves Jerry tormented forever - knowing he was right but unable to prove it, so he spends the rest of his days alone, drunk and insane, his new life with Lori and her daughter obliterated. The author wanted to show how the comforting structure of detective fiction where justice is done and the killer is caught is too often a lie - the cold and cruel universe we inhabit rarely has time for such romantic ideals - so don’t bet your life on it.

If you haven’t seen it… what are you waiting for!?

After slowly moving away from my admiration and obsession with comic book films and blockbuster films as a child/teen and moving toward appreciating more esoteric and transgressive expressionistic cinema from people like Abel Ferrara, Harmony Korine, Larry Clark, and Vincent Gallo (yes I know they aren’t that obscure, cool) I’ve learned to come to understand film performance in a more insightful way revealing of human nature. Directors like Ferrara and Gallo use performative repetition amidst transgression not to wallow in the exploitative degradation tableaux, but to reveal a deeper human truth that wouldn’t be present in a less repetitive sequence. I can give countless examples of this dramatic posture and its effect, but the best example I can recall is the scene of the kids planning the bully’s murder in Larry Clark’s bully. The audience has already stood the plan in full, so when the characters repeat it for the 11th time, it’s not to impart knowledge, but to visualize both literally and metaphorically what it’s like to genuinely plan out and perform transgressive behavior. Another example would be the scene of Harvey Keitel’s character in Bad Lieutenant demanding the young girl take her pants off. The first time he says it, it’s baffling, the second time it’s uncomfortable, the fifth time it reaches a spiritual level of discomfort, and that’s precisely the point.

I recently watched Gus Van Sant’s Last Day’s and he even takes this dramatic principle to another level. In the penultimate sequence, seeing Michael Pitt’s Blake (Cobain), play a song on the guitar for what felt like ten minutes, no cuts, no camera movement, and just being forced to bear witness to this individual expressing his shame and isolation in the purest and most communicative form he can was moving in a way that a film has never been before. The emotions in that duration were so raw it felt like I was witnessing something I hadn’t been permitted. And it reached an uncanny level as when I finally shed a tear the scene instantly ended. It makes me wonder how a director like Gus can be so tapped into the feelings of both the audience and the character it becomes alchemical and hypnotic.

With that being said, I’d like to share what I believe to be the best film performances following this “method” (if you can call it that) of self expression. Would love to hear some of your favorite/ best performances as well, and why those specifically.

Robert DeNiro - Raging Bull
Daniel Day Lewis - There Will Be Blood
Marlon Brando - The Godfather
Leonardo DiCaprio - The Aviator
MatthewMcConaughey - Dallas Buyers Club
Phillip Seymour Hoffman - The Master
Al Pacino - The Godfather Part II
Casey Affleck - Manchester By the Sea
Tony Leung - In The Mood For Love
Martin Sheen - Apocalypse Now
Christian Bale - The Machinist
Robert DeNiro - Taxi Driver
Edward Norton - American History X
JK Simmons - Whiplash
Harvey Keitel - Bad Lieutenant
Brendan Fraser - The Whale
Ellen Burstyn - Requiem for a Dream
Natalie Portman - Black Swan
Cate Blanchett - Blue Jasmine
Jake Gyllenhall - Nightcrawler
Jesse Eisenberg - The Social Network
Sean Penn - Mystic River
Tom Hanks - Forrest Gump
Anthony Hopkins - Silence of the Lambs
Joaquin Phoenix - Joker
Choi Min-sik - Oldboy
Denzel Washington - Malcolm X
Austin Butler - Elvis
Michael Fassbender - Steve Jobs
Hillary Swank - Million Dollar Baby
Daniel Kaluuya - Judas and Messiah
Jodie Foster - Silence of the Lambs
Andrew Garfield - Hacksaw Ridge
Leonardo DiCaprio - The Revenant
Ryan Gosling - Bladerunner 2049
Scarlett Johansson - Marriage Story
Emma Stone - La La Land
Jack Nicholson - Cuckoo’s Nest
Miles Teller - Whiplash
Michael Pitt - Last Days
Jason London - Dazed and Confused
Leo Fitzpatrick - Kids
Justin Pierce - Kids
Lakeith Stanfield - Judas and Messiah
Timothee Chalamet - Beautiful Boy
Jeff Goldblum - Deep Cover
Laurence Fishburne - Deep Cover
Rudy Youngblood - Apocalypto
Christina Ricci - Buffalo ‘66
Sean Penn - State of Grace
Gena Rowlands - Opening Night
Mia Goth - Pearl
Glen Howerton - BlackBerry
Vincent Gallo - Buffalo ‘66
Evan Rachel Wood - Thirteen
Dore Mann - Frownland
Tupac Shakur - Juice
Christina Ricci - Prozac Nation
Bijou Phillips - Bully
Zoë Lund - Ms.45

I watched the movie a couple of hours ago and I can't stop thinking about it. I think I might be going crazy because critics seem to gloss over the most important thing about it, which is religion. I haven't read the book, so I don't really care about inconsistencies.

Religion is a central focus of the movie. The Sun is literally in the title, and the official movie poster portrays Klara with the Sun forming a halo behind her head.

It's a solar religion in which the Sun is a god. Solar worship was common in many ancient pagan religions; it wasn't something stupid, as critics seem to suggest. Yes, Klara is childlike and powered by the Sun, which leads her to believe that the Sun is a god, but that was pretty much how it was with nature-based religions. People observed the power of nature and deified it. It isn't silly to portray someone as believing that the Sun is a person - not that long ago, people in many cultures were animists who thought that every part of nature had a separate soul.

One can even find parallels with Christianity - God in Christianity is not literally the Sun, but there are symbolic similarities. The halo has solar associations, the Sun is the source of light, and Jesus is also described as light in several passages of the Bible. I'm not sure whether this is intentional, but Klara may be seen as an example of the "child" archetype or the "holy fool" archetype - both children and "holy fools" are associated with closeness to God in Christian tradition. I don't think I even have to explain the parallels between Klara's selfless sacrifice and Jesus' sacrifice.

What's more, the movie added one element that supposedly isn't in the book - the combine harvester. In some ancient pagan religions, there was a conflict between uranic (including solar) deities and chthonic (earth) deities. The Sun in the movie is obviously the solar deity, but the combine seems to be a chthonic entity. Chthonic deities were associated with death, the earth and the harvest, all of which the combine seems to symbolize in the movie. I'm not sure whether this was intentional, but if it wasn't, then Waititi literally stumbled upon a symbol of nature worship, just like Klara.

I think Waititi went overboard with the humor, which made Klara seem "too stupid" for some viewers to even consider that she might be right. My problem is that the critics seem too entrenched in a scientific paradigm to even consider that, in a fantasy movie, the Sun might actually be a god.

Firstly (I’ve done some light searching but haven’t found anything), does anyone know of a youtube reviewer or a writer who primarily focuses on micro-budget features? Particularly of the new/recent variety? I want to focus on watching what people with little means are producing today but would like some sort of filter or baseline to turn to for recommendations as opposed to constantly searching for new but quality stuff. Somewhere with a developing canon of consensus driven mb features.

There’s a ton of interviews and how to’s and business model type stuff out there. But doesn’t seem to be a place to go to find the excellent collected works people would make WITH that advice (or not, since a lot of those people who give advice I find to not make very good films).

Second, if this doesn’t really exist, is this something you think people would be interested in? I know I would, would maybe start one mainly to just have people send me their films to start some sort of canon. It just seems like it would make things easier and could tie a bunch of talented but unknown filmmakers together for a small corner of film lovers.

Thoughts?

I’ve seen people aggressively defending Digger. A twist around every turn, a lecture for every topic. But as critics have pointed out, it tries to have five cakes and eat them all too.

My experience was really exhausting. They change the direction every 20 minutes. First, we are presented with a tycoon who ignores all warnings to stop digging. We then hear about the disaster, striking almost immediately. Rockwell gathers with the others in charge, and the movie shifts: now, instead of protecting the people, they want to protect their public image with a firewall. We are then pulled to the twist.

When this twist came, I didn’t realize it was a play. I thought the twist was that they were in an underground facility, safe from the crumbling world, with the rooms to entertain them (because a hideout that looks like a backstage would be really boring, especially when they’re so rich) but them still wishing to preserve their public image. The set design works perfectly for this. From the beginning it looks surreal and artificial, like they’re trying to create a perfect but lifeless world. There’s a very evident contrast with the gritty outside world we see on the TVs. The movie had a great chance if it was instead about an underground facility, and their music (which sounded natural but naive, fake) and cinematography could’ve really helped the contrast. Those stakes were wasted.

A play really doesn’t make sense here. They spend a lot of the time in interiors, and Iñárritu justifies it with a modern, polarizing play technique called Live Cinema, where the insides are filmed and projected outside. This requires niche outside knowledge to understand, especially for a technique that contradicts the structure of a traditional play. Iñárritu was really just trying to find a way to realistically justify so much time spent in interiors in a play.

Iñárritu tries to justify everything in this film, while avoiding sincerity. The jokes aren’t funny? That’s the point, it’s supposed to be stupid. The characters are caricatures? That’s the point, it’s supposed to be shallow. The movie hurts your ears? That's the point, it's supposed to be loud. Even Digger’s actor in Fossil Fools dislikes the use of the Live Cinema technique and the shallowness of the characters and the overall indifference to the craft, but Kenneth wants to make something for the audiences. Iñárritu is so scared to make an actual message, so he hides it behind satire. In the end, he makes a satire of shallowness in modern satire, while making an equally shallow film, except it's justified because it's aware of the fact.

The film really does try to get a message about everything, and it becomes very exhausting to follow. Every 20 minutes they switch focus: careless tycoon, then media manipulation, then it’s a play, then the Indian guy is trying to save the world, then it’s the audiences’ fault, then Digger’s actor gets mad at the play and Kenneth explains this is about his family, and then the audience gets their entertainment, and then they are in a fascist landscape, and then we are the audience. The film points fingers at everyone, the characters, the elites, the audience, and you, and it gives a lecture about each of them. It's everybody's fault and nobody can fix anything, so why bother trying?

This movie only accomplishes to get you to laugh with the physical comedy, but not the satire itself. The movie instead prioritizes lecturing which you struggle to keep up with, which is really exhausting. It's literally preaching its message to you, with the only excuse for "subtlety" being the convoluting meta-narrative. Satire is supposed to be quick, sharp, and witty, giving both laugh and truth. Instead it lectures you, and the only funny parts in the movie are the quick comedy it satirizes and rejects (and even those moments rarely are done well and get you to laugh). After about an hour of the movie and five lectures, you think three hours have gone by, and the films still preaching about something subject to change. It's extremely exhausting to keep up with, especially when you have ten different noises fighting you.

The movie is loud. The audio mixing is horrendous. It is an assault on your ears. You could hardly make out what the director and Digger’s actor were arguing about. There is either another twist or there is angry bickering, so the movie can never come to a definitive climax. Apart from the beginning, the movie never escalates neither deescalates, and emphasizes nothing.

The characters were horrible, too. As I said, the movie avoids all sincerity, and this is especially true with the characters. They are treated like caricatures, even outside the satire. They only attempt to humanize Digger’s actor, who has a daughter at home, but that really means nothing. She is brought up once and we don’t form any connection with her or any of the other characters. And Kenny’s character is even worse. He acts submissive, and I thought he was just a servant. He doesn’t even know Digger’s actor. But really, he bought the rights to the play! HE is the main man of the show!

The movie fails to emotionally resonate and fulfill the sincere role every satire movie needs. It’s cynical and misanthropic; it mocks everyone, including the viewer, and makes it seem like we’re too far gone to solve this problem. It tried to make itself bulletproof, by justifying every decision as satire, and every preference as accounted for by the satire. But in the end, it’s an emotionless, miserable movie that neither makes you hopeless (because there’s nothing to care about anyway) nor incited, a movie that’s aggressive, meaningless, and nonchalant.

It was a wildly entertaining film, and I very much enjoyed it. But I left feeling that what happened behind the documentary was more interesting than anything it ultimately revealed.

My impression is that Billy and Elizabeth deliberately gave Nathan very little time before filming, allowing them to control the circumstances. The rented house in San Diego felt like part of that presentation. The footage itself wasn’t especially revealing, and there was little he could conclude from it. He then sits on it for years before bringing in Amanda Seyfried, which makes for a much more entertaining film but doesn’t necessarily get us closer to anything.

What stayed with me was how thoroughly he seemed to have been duped. Elizabeth raised enormous sums of money, managed employees, and spoke on panels, yet presents herself here as someone who can barely understand a simple joke. That doesn’t tell us whether she is neurodivergent, but it does make me question why he seems so willing to accept the version of herself she offers him.

I suspect Nathan was smart enough to realize he had been manipulated but was unsure how to confront it, and bringing in Amanda became his solution. That makes for compelling viewing, but I’m less convinced it produces a particularly revealing conclusion.

I enjoyed watching it. I just don’t quite understand the leap from an entertaining film to something people think should win Best Picture. What did others take from the ending that I might be missing?

☐SOLVED! The film is Uncle John (2015), directed by Steven Piet.

Ich suche einen vermutlich fast unbekannten Independentfilm über einen Teenager, der auf dem Land aufwächst.

Leider erinnere ich mich kaum noch an die Handlung, aber der wunderschöne, melancholische Soundtrack mit seinen vielen Klavierstücken ist mir in Erinnerung geblieben.

Ein wichtiger Hinweis: David Lynch hat diesen Film einmal in einem Interview empfohlen oder gelobt. Er stammt definitiv nicht von ihm. Ich erinnere mich auch, dass der Regisseur später Fernsehserien inszenierte.

Was die Geschichte angeht, erinnere ich mich vage an einen Konflikt mit einem Nachbarn, bin mir aber nicht ganz sicher.

Eine Szene ist mir besonders gut in Erinnerung geblieben: Der Junge fährt nach Einbruch der Dunkelheit mit ein paar Freunden Fahrrad, begleitet von diesem wunderschönen Klaviersoundtrack.

Ich glaube, der Film kam irgendwann zwischen 2010 und 2020 raus, bin mir aber nicht ganz sicher.

Sagt das irgendjemandem etwas? Entschuldigt bitte, dass ich hier gefragt habe. Ich wäre für jeden Hinweis dankbar!

People seem to forget, or perhaps struggle to discern, that seemingly opposing things can be true simultaneously.

Fielder can genuinely empathize with and care about Holmes AND "use" Holmes to create a wildly successful work of art: this film.

Fielder can privately feel uncertain OR certain about what he experienced (and perhaps is still experiencing) with Holmes (they might even still be in touch) AND make artistic decisions that lead viewers toward seemingly definitive interpretations rather than ambiguous ones.

In other words, the question isn't necessarily whether something is true or false, but which version of reality is being presented, by whom, and through what lens.

In YCSE, a multitude of realities can coexist within a single work of art, each subject to the interpretation of the individual experiencing it.

Everyone is so focused on dissecting Holmes, Evans, Fielder. I get it. It's supremely fun and fascinating!

But even those with firsthand knowledge of Holmes's deception (Carreyrou and Shultz) have zeroed in on the seemingly endless elements of Holmes to dissect within YCSE, RATHER than the bigger story the film has the potential to tell:

We ALL have the capacity to "create our own reality," and then choose whether or not to act in alignment with that reality!

A film - documentary or otherwise - or, for that matter, virtually anything we experience in this world, can only ever offer a representation of A reality, not necessarily THE reality in its entirety.

Two people can look at the same cloud in the sky and see two entirely different animals...

Fielder and Holmes have both constructed their own "bespoke" amalgamations of reality, for vastly different purposes, sure.

But the fact remains that both have engaged in the same fundamental act of constructing and presenting a version of reality 🫠

And THAT, to me, is the brilliance of YCSE: "reality" being continuously constructed and reconstructed by its participants, through both preplanned and improvised actions; through the external (what visibly unfolds on screen) and the internal (the invisible workings, perceptions, motivations, and intentions of those involved); and both in "real time" and retrospectively (e.g., through post-production editing).

It's a collision of multiple, parallel realities, manifested as a single work of art.

Context is sooo necessary for perceiving a fuller picture of what we call "truth," isn't it? Think Plato's Allegory of the Cave...

Anyone who's watched Nathan for You and then The Rehearsal can recognize how YCSE feels like a natural progression of the themes Fielder has been exploring all along.

But the stars really did align for Fielder to cross paths with someone like Holmes: a person with a documented history of deception and an extraordinary ability to manipulate others' perceptions of reality, AND who can still exhibit moments that appear genuinely vulnerable and sincere. Her tears at mentioning her daughter's breastmilk saved in the fridge, for instance.

And Fielder isn't entirely different in that particular sense. In Nathan for You and The Rehearsal, he can be performing a character while simultaneously allowing moments of apparent, unscripted authenticity to emerge. It's that fascinating blend of scripted performance, improvisation, and spontaneous human interaction, all selectively preserved and assembled into the final product.

The distinction, of course, lies in their intentions, methods, consequences, and ethical responsibilities. Engaging in the same fundamental act of constructing a reality does not make the resulting realities, or the people constructing them, morally equivalent.

We can all "see" more clearly if we're willing to examine more of the elements at play in the realities we construct within ourselves.

Ultimately, for me, YCSE isn't even about Holmes, Evans, or Fielder so much as it is a portal through which we can examine just how much "truth" and "reality" we humans are capable of constructing, interpreting, and manipulating, for purposes ranging from harmless entertainment and artistic expression to something far more nefarious or malicious.

If you were one of the prisoners in Plato's cave, the first step would be to turn your head away from the shadows you've mistaken for the entirety of reality. Look around. Question the source of what you're seeing. Explore beyond the familiar. And perhaps, eventually, venture outside the cave itself.

Because what you see isn't necessarily all there is. And what you believe to be real isn't necessarily the whole truth.

We humans are not merely observers of reality. We are also participants in its construction.

And while we may not get to choose every circumstance or fact of our existence, we do have a hand in choosing how we perceive, interpret, and respond to what we encounter.

The choice to look beyond the shadows is ours.

I recognize there’s a lot to unpack here—enough for a PhD dissertation—but I would love feedback, particularly from people with a background in psychology.

I also recognize there’s the world of reality and the universe created through cinema. A film’s edit can alter how we view a subject, interpret a sentence, or understand an entire situation. That distinction is part of what fascinates me here.

First, my claim of BEST FILM of 2026. I’d go as far as to say the last DECADE. For the last decade or longer, American cinema has heavily relied on franchises, the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and theme park–leaning films to sustain theatrical exhibition, while anything considered “smaller” or “niche” has increasingly been pushed toward streaming. I ain’t gonna hate on the superhero genre, but I recognize a resulting deficit in the narrative forms offered in American theaters. Who knew a documentary could feel like such a theatrical event?

Now—to the film.
Spoilers ahead.

The moments that gave me a psychological jolt:

• The stillness of Holmes, her tears, and the extreme close-ups in this cinéma vérité style. What does that combination create psychologically in the viewer? We feel closer, but are we understanding more?

• Her father’s revelation in the kitchen about his daughter’s r*pe at 13—and how profoundly that shifted my interpretation of Holmes’ behavior.

• Billy seemingly dismissing this conversation and bringing the focus back to himself. Was I watching discomfort, protectiveness, or a need to control the conversation?

• The mother never speaking. In a culture where women have so often spearheaded conversations about sexual violence, while men have diminished them, the father speaking and the mother’s silence stood out to me. Whatever the explanation, that reversal affected how I read the scene.

• Holmes breaking down while watching Amanda Seyfried’s portrayal of her in THE DROPOUT, creating this sensation that Seyfried was the new villain.

• Then meeting Seyfried—and eventually hearing her call to action to go after Billy Evans. Suddenly, my sympathies were being redirected again.

• That dinner scene. Amazing. Evans seemingly wanting to dismiss Seyfried as some irrelevant actress; Seyfried holding her own, clearly appearing semi-drunk, acknowledging past tweets about a man I won’t name. Their political differences quickly become apparent, yet BOTH seem to be protecting Holmes from their own perspectives. Each appears to believe they see something the other doesn’t. WOW. Just wow.

• Evans’ apparent grift on Holmes and his constant sniffling. Yes, my mind went there—is he doing…??? But that also made me question how the film’s use of sound was encouraging my suspicion.

• Finally, Seyfried and director Fielder unpacking what to believe. What are we ultimately left thinking about any of these people—and how much do we understand anyone’s motivations, including theirs?

I know, I know. A lot to focus on and unpack.

But the thread connecting these moments is how often the film changes whom I trust—and why.

I think many of us can relate to this on a personal level. Who here has become a loved one’s power of attorney, or watched someone else take on that responsibility, only to have everyone’s expectations and relationships shift? You can find yourself trying to protect someone while questioning their decisions, the people around them, and eventually your own judgment. When does helping become controlling? When does protection serve the protector?
Then there’s the game playing. When do we interpret someone’s aloofness as vulnerability, and when do we interpret it as manipulation? Why do so many people in this world of future tech seem to lean into doublespeak—or something that feels like downright fraud?

I typically think of the psychological thriller as fiction with roots in classic film noir. This documentary, I wasn’t expecting.

Is the film a continuation of Holmes’ criminal grift? Is it revealing someone shaped by an environment that rewards selling a future before it exists? Could both be true—and what would that say about where society is headed?

I’m particularly interested in hearing from people with a psychology background about these dynamics, while recognizing that we’re discussing an edited portrayal of real people. How do you distinguish empathy, projection, manipulation, and protection here? And did the film help you understand its subjects—or reveal how readily our own sympathies can be redirected?

The lower class: Ho-seok, a man who has closed himself to off due to his experiences in the strike. Mi-ok, a caring wife and mother. Cheol, a child in need of support. The groundskeeper, a silent servant.

The higher class: Ye-ji, a bougie director trying to capture the human cost of corporate restructuring for her labor documentary. Sang-woo, a scion with incredible wealth who becomes embroiled in the drama.

We follow these characters as they interact in multiple Seoul locations (Mi-ok’s work, restaurants, union building, group therapy, both of the couple’s residences, the strike, etc), in flashbacks (Mi-ok’s mother’s car wash, Mi-ok’s sewing job, Ho-seok‘s countryside setting), driving around, and finally in a picturesque, peaceful villa in the west coast of Korea. A mix of interview-style close-ups and in-story news coverage/youtube clips were also interspersed to give the audience a raw sense of the strike and its toll.

In Seoul, Sang-woo’s first interaction with Mi-ok is one of polite assistance, and she is immediately crying and vulnerable. This sets the stage for his later connection with her at the villa. At dinner, Mi-ok shows interest for Sang-woo. She is tipsy and says he looks like Steve Jobs, then professes that she was slightly obsessed with Steve Jobs (“he looked like he was going to solve all the problems” or something, I don’t remember her exact dialogue) and was affected by his passing. Sang-woo is affable and nervous-laughing. In the car ride home with Ye-ji, he agrees that Mi-ok is fun. He’s then rude and aloof when picking her up to go to the union building, and doesn’t acknowledge her when leaving the building. She doesn’t seem to know what to make of this. At dinner waiting for Ho-seok, Mi-ok is smoking outside and Sang-woo takes a phone call in English for his business. Before seeing him come out, she was gossiping with Ye-ji’s film crew to learn about his background. After learning about him, she briefly observes him taking the call before heading back into the restaurant. At the villa, Mi-ok and Sang-woo go off on a walk, and he clearly shows interest. He is open/flirty, has her wait for a birdcall (what was that bird, anyone know? it sounds so cool), stares down at her as she kneels, and physically touches her to brush dirt off her knee. Walking behind him, she realizes something is happening and is uncomfortable. Their last interaction begins with him absolutely flush with a business project’s recent success. He is buzzing, and she is the first to congratulate him. At this point in the story, she is deeply affected from seeing Ho-seok drunkenly deal with his emotions earlier that morning. He agreed to talk to the camera and had panic-attack as he released emotions about feeling deceived/betrayed by his union. After drinking that night and waking up still drunk, he stumbles out to the villa’s beach to be alone and begins screaming and savagely lashing out, destroying some plants near the beach. Mi-ok had followed him and observed this, and then saw Ye-ji filming her watching him. Talking to Sang-woo about his project, Mi-ok is visibly unsure on where she is and what she’s doing. She is reconsidering if the villa visit and Ho-seok’s documentary participation was a good idea. Seeing Sang-woo’s mood, Mi-ok has an impulse to bring their relationship’s bubbling tension to the forefront. Perhaps this is a way to feel power over him after seeing her own husband at his lowest, or to punish him for showing interest when they were alone and away from the eyes of their spouses. She invites him to the beach while Ho-seok sits down for another interview, and she undresses to swim in the beach like Sang-woo did as a child to exercise his privilege and freedom. Sang-woo, still ecstatic from the project’s success, feels so euphoric that he actually acts on his interest from the previous walk they took together. He undresses and begins swimming near Mi-ok. Mi-ok dodges him and rushes out of the water. Sang-woo comes out of the water and tries to get to her, but she waves her clothes like a bullfigher and his advances miss each time. Finally, they both dress and return to the villa, with Sang-woo arriving after Mi-ok, frustrated and feeling there is something unfinished between them. Mi-ok flees from the villa with Ho-seok. Sang-woo has aggressive intercourse with Ye-ji and she remarks that he doesn’t seem like himself.

What an incredibly layered performance from Jeon Do-yeon, and major props to Zo In-sung as well. There was so much left unsaid in their physical performance and expressions that made this dynamic extremely rich. Mi-ok just wanted her husband to understand that he needed help, and she believed participating in the documentary would be good to help him cathartically face this. She began to get a feeling of something not being right in the situation as she took in more information about Ye-ji’s spending habits and Sang-woo’s fortune. Finally, her initial interest in Sang-woo was completely spoiled with him actually reciprocating by touching her and eventually advancing at her. As she says: she and Ho-seok don’t belong, and they need to leave the villa.

Sang-woo getting embroiled with Mi-ok is absolutely fascinating. He is the progenitor of the documentary happening in the first place, due to a remark he made to Ye-ji about Dubai(?)‘s class divide (I think it was Dubai, can’t remember exactly). Ye-ji’s recollection of this remark made it seem like she was generally unaware or not focused on issues like this, until this remark. So, we are to conclude that he is the socially conscious one between them. That idea is strengthened after Ye-ji attempts to say her father was similar to the people laid off before the strike, and that those people (her father and the laid off workers) will be made to disappear in an ever-modernizing world. Sang-woo quickly corrects her by saying her father was not a laborer, but a business owner, and would have disliked unions among his workers. She laughs this misunderstanding off, and it shows his larger understanding of class/business dynamics. In the car ride to the villa, Sang-woo also coldly identifies Ye-ji’s somewhat exploitative attempt to get better interviews for her documentary by becoming personal and ingratiating herself with Mi-ok and Ho-seok. He says that despite her good intentions to document labor problems, she is simply not like those people and never will be, and her act of convincing herself otherwise to be closer with them is a form of unintentional method acting. So, Sang-woo obviously thinks of himself as different to Mi-ok and Ho-seok as well.

So, this unbelievably wealthy man, who is above it all, and doesn’t feel like the same type of person as low-class Mi-ok, is actually interested and pursues Mi-ok. This is his glaring contradiction, and it’s fantastic to watch unfold. He mentions that in Seoul, he acts like an adult, but he is able to be free and act like he did as a child when at the villa. So, it could be a childish lack of self control. He is the heir to a fortune and he gets what he wants. He wants her in the moment, as he sees what he perceives as a charming, innocent low-class woman who appears in front of him with a disturbed husband. He is laughing and conversing with her in his safe place. Since Mi-ok knows nothing of american business transactions or of the extravagant wealthy life he leads, she is unsophisticated and unchallenging in his eyes. He just wants to dominate her. In reality, Mi-ok is aware of all that is around her. She recognizes all the hypocrisies and does not want any part in them. She just wants her husband to be healthy and present with her and her son. Upon drawing Sang-woo‘s feelings out in the beach, she immediately shuts him down and protects her husband from Ye-ji’s camera.

Mi-ok and Sang-woo’s dynamic is very rich, and I feel I could keep going. There is almost 3 hours of film to discuss, and this is just one of the several character relationships. All are equally rich.

If anyone would like to share their thoughts on Mi-ok and Sang-woo, I ask you to do so in the comments. I am an american viewer, what SK subtleties have I missed in their relationship and class dynamics? Alternatively, please share how you felt about this film overall, or how you feel about any of the other relationships below. I cannot find discussion about this film on Reddit.

Cheol and the groundskeeper

Cheol, Mi-ok and Ho-seok (I loved the actor‘s blank expression and how he constantly twitched his face to show Cheol’s deteriorated state)

Cheol and Sang-woo
Mi-ok and Ho-seok

Mi-ok and Ye-ji

Ye-ji and Sang-woo

Ye-ji and Ho-seok

Sang-woo and Ho-seok

As someone who did not enjoy this movie at all, I've been racking my brain trying to figure out what Holmes hoped to accomplish by allowing a filmmaker like Fielder to make a documentary about her, and why Fielder seemingly went out of his way to ignore or avoid exploring so much relevant information while playing dumb about what Elizabeth has done. I think Fielder framing the film as some intellectual exploration of what it means to make a documentary is part of the misdirection. I suspect the real objective is far more calculated: to reframe Elizabeth as a victim of Billy and a mentally ill but non-nefarious actor, rather than someone who knowingly orchestrated a massive fraud, while portraying Billy as a coked-out potentially abusive eccentric.

I wouldn't be surprised if Elizabeth, Billy, Fielder, and A24 all understood from the beginning how these portrayals would serve a broader image-rehabilitation strategy. Rather than producing an obvious Elizabeth Holmes redemption documentary, Fielder packages the narrative as an experimental, self-aware art-house film. We never get clear answers about whether Elizabeth is a liar but we are very clearly told time and time again that Billy is the villain in this movie. Even though there is infinitely more irrefutable evidence that Elizabeth is a liar than that Billy is an abusive husband.

The largely liberal, intellectually self-satisfied audience gets to congratulate itself for appreciating the film's supposed commentary on truth, documentary filmmaking, and media manipulation, without necessarily considering whether it's being manipulated in the process. So Fielder gets critical acclaim/ cash and Holmes becomes a sympathetic character suitable for pardon. Because you have to consider when a person is federally pardoned all restitution payments get wiped away so she would not have to pay back the 100's of millions she owes to the government and other victims.

Meanwhile, Billy is cultivating a persona and portrayed in the film as a gun-loving conservative Texas transplant, someone who could plausibly fit into Trump's political and social circles. I suspect that's the overall strategy is to rehabilitate Elizabeth's reputation with one audience while building legitimacy with people who might have influence over a pardon.

I know my theory seems very out there but it makes so much sense when you consider the economic benefits Holmes would gain from a pardon and we also know that Fielder as a film maker has no problem playing in the ethical grey zone with his work so this subterranean multi-level manipulation of the audience is an interesting experiment for him and A24.