A War Observed, Not Explained: Roberto Minervini’s The Damned

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By: Dominic La-Viola

Roberto Minervini makes his fictional feature debut with The Damned, a Civil War drama captured in such a way that it feels closer to a documentary than a traditional narrative film. Leaning heavily into his background and expertise in nonfiction filmmaking, Minervini is able to tell a story that feels otherwise impossible, positioning the viewer as a quiet third-party observer.

Minervini’s vision is clear from the opening sequence, even if it initially feels unclear or out of place. The film opens on a wide shot of two wolves eating a dead deer—no attack, no hunt, just the image of animals feeding. After what feels like several minutes (though in reality it’s likely far less), the camera cuts to a close-up, allowing us to observe the wolf in its natural habitat as others slowly join in.

At first, the image feels odd, even irrelevant, to a story about men at war. As the film unfolds, however, it becomes clear that the wolves represent something philosophical rather than literal. The opening tells us everything we need to know about the film before it truly begins.

It’s a brave and bold choice—to open a war film not with violence or spectacle, but with animals eating their dinner. A moment that would likely turn most viewers away almost instantly. Yet it also acts as a quiet filter, keeping only those willing to be patient, while subtly revealing the film’s central truth long before it announces itself.

While The Damned is a narrative film, it plays out like a documentary—one that captures not just the Civil War, but the nature of war itself. Minervini doesn’t make a war film so much as he creates a character-driven drama set against the backdrop of war, allowing us to simply tag along as observers.

Much like Richard Linklater’s Slacker, the camera is not a narrator. It merely follows those who are. We watch, we listen, and we observe. Like the wolves in the opening shot, we are never meant to know exactly what happened or how it happened—only to witness it unfold without context or explanation.

This is a risky approach, especially for a filmmaker making his fictional debut. It’s the kind of method that can easily come off as pretentious or self-indulgent. But Minervini fully commits, swinging for the fences and creating something genuinely singular. His background in documentary filmmaking clearly strengthens his ability to execute this vision with confidence and restraint.

Knowing this was his first fictional feature, and that his previous work was rooted entirely in documentary, it was difficult to know what to expect going in. What’s surprising is not just the film’s control, but its striking cinematography. The images are crisp, composed, and beautiful—not merely capturing the story, but actively deepening it.

Carlos Alfonso Corral’s cinematography is remarkable. From the balanced compositions to the selective use of shallow depth of field, every visual choice feels intentional. What makes this technique especially effective is its restraint. Used sparingly and only at key moments, it enhances the emotional weight of the scene rather than calling attention to itself.

That level of discipline—knowing when not to use such a powerful visual tool—reveals a clear artistic vision. The film never allows visual flourish to overpower character or tone. Everything serves the story.

Minervini also pens the script, and its influence is undeniable. There is no traditional narrative structure here. Instead, we watch these men exist in their day-to-day lives as soldiers. The dialogue isn’t designed to move plot forward or explain motivation—it simply exists.

The conversations feel natural and unforced. These men speak the way coworkers do, especially coworkers who barely know one another. With few exceptions, these soldiers are strangers, and their interactions reflect that unfamiliarity.

What makes the script so effective is its simplicity and timelessness. There’s little dialogue that feels bound to a specific era or genre. Its restraint mirrors the film itself, allowing meaning to emerge organically rather than being imposed.

Action is scarce, but when it arrives, it lands with weight. For a film set during the Civil War, there is far less gunplay than expected. Yet this absence only heightens its impact. When the first shot is fired, you feel it—not because of aggressive sound design, but because of the silence and stillness that preceded it.

The film captures what war likely feels like most of the time: long stretches of waiting punctuated by brief, terrifying moments of danger. Those moments are intense and disorienting, shot in a way that feels raw rather than cinematic. The result is something both visually striking and emotionally grounded, reinforcing the film’s documentary sensibility.

By the time the credits roll, The Damned—a film without a conventional narrative—ends in a way only a character-driven story can. It leaves you with more questions than answers, yet somehow feels complete. Not because it explains itself, but because it trusts the viewer to sit with what remains.

We Bury the Dead – A New Sub-Genre of Zombie Film

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By:Dominic La-Viola

Zak Hilditch’s latest film “We Bury the Dead” creates a new sub-genre of zombie film. Focusing less on the premises of the dead and more on the living. 

The approach in which Hilditch takes on the film is similar to what we have seen before. Borrowing heavily from iconic work that has come before, like “The Walking Dead” and “Dawn of the Dead” film series. 

Although the one thing that truly separates this film from anything we have seen thus far is the fact that it’s not a zombie apocalypse. It’s merely an isolated event that is the fallout of a military operation gone wrong. There is no sense of outbreak, and no reason to believe that the virus will spread and infect others. 

I think “We Bury the Dead” might just be the first character-driven zombie horror film. Dare I say, an elevated zombie film. For nothing about this film feels like a traditional zombie movie. 

The film does take George A. Romero’s basic premise of zombie movies and follows the number one rule that is true in all his zombie films. The zombies are never the bad guys or the antagonists; people are. The zombies merely exist. 

Which is the same premise here, which really adds to the film’s depth and layers of it being a character-driven drama. Where on this isolated island, some of the dead don’t stay dead. Furthermore, not all of the undead are unhinged. 

The film takes a bold approach to change the way in which we not only see zombies but what zombies are. Giving them not only the ability to move at higher speeds, like in “World War Z”, but also to give them a consciousness of some sort. 

Up until this point, zombies have always been mindless creatures, acting on basic instinct.  To feed to survive and for whatever reason, their instinct was always to feed on humans as their first choice. 

As was in “We Bury the Dead”, we are offered an alternative to what folklore and movies have told us about the undead. We witness both the destructive and mindless undead. Wanting nothing more than to give into primal instinct, and we also see undead that for some reason, still have a heart and somewhat of a conscious. 

The film explores the idea that not all zombies are the same, that some still have their humanity and their sense of being. Which goes hand in hand with all the humans in the film. Offering the idea that some have the ability and purity that the disease can’t completely eradicate. While others are only as pure-hearted as society forces them to be. 

Offering an unique perspective on not only the zombie genre, but humans in general. I remember reading an article on a study once that talked about the popularity in zombie movies and shows, which was a direct link to how society was at the time.

 That people often gravitate towards zombie movies more, when society is chaotic and there is tension among the people, a discord in society. 

 Although with “We Bury the Dead” there feels to be more focused on the emotional connection and lack thereof between people and their significant others, rather than the world around them. 

 

Offering an even more obscure insight into the genre. For every character we really interact with, their actions are a direct correspondence of their significant other. 

Whether the situation is a positive or a negative offset due to the relationship they shared with their “person”. Truly elevating the film, to another level.  

From a technical perspective, the film is sound and on point. The shots are crisp and well executed. Something we normally wouldn’t see in a typical horror movie about the undead.

Offering some beautiful shots, using lightning in a way to not only convey emotion, but to set a tone and elevate the overall experience of the film. Making it very clear that this is not your typical horror film.

I love the way they light the scenes in which they’re indoors without power or a traditional sense of lighting. At no point do they try to force external, unrealistic lighting into the shot. They capture the shot, with the allowed lighting. Adding a sense of depth to the scene. 

Accompanied by a score that stands out for being pitch perfect. Offering an emotional guidance to the film’s story without being overly dramatic or intense. Giving off just the right amount of nuance to be recognized and appreciated, but not standing out for negative reasons.

At first, the pacing feels slow if you’re expecting a Romero-style zombie film. It wasn’t until about halfway through that I truly understood what it was I had been watching.

 A character-driven drama, with a backdrop of the undead. Which plays into a larger part of the story, weaving everything together perfectly. 

Offering us an elevated zombie film, one that goes beyond the traditional tale of a zombie apocalypse. Focusing on the characters who would drive them into the lions’ den, so to speak. Rather than just another film in which we watch as people try to escape it. 

Overall, the film is not what I expected it to be; however, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Not at all.

I truly enjoyed this film and think it elevated the genre of zombie movies.  Taking what worked with “The Walking Dead”, where the focus was less on the zombies and people running for their lives and more so on creating great characters and making the zombies the backdrop. 

“We Bury The Dead” takes a popular concept, such as zombies, and expands on that. Creating something we never see, a character-driven story at the center of a zombie movie. 

Overall Rating: 3.5/ 5 Stars .

Marty Supreme – An Underdog Story Like We’ve Never Seen Before. 

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By : Dominic La-Viola

When talking about the best films of the year, Josh Safdie’s “Marty Supreme” easily comes to mind. Now, while there are some films that were “released” this year that have yet to come to theaters.  This is without question one of the best films that have. 

How does one make a movie about ping pong, table tennis? Easily one of the most boring and one of the most unauthentic “sports” to ever exist, interesting ? 

You make the main character someone who everyone can’t get enough of. You build your entire film around that character and their journey. For it’s not about table tennis; it’s about a person’s journey into becoming the best there is at something they’re passionate about. 

I feel the need to address the elephant in the room, or should I say the film: TimothĂ©e Chalamet. Everyone has been talking negatively about him. Saying that one can’t be the GOAT if they say they are. That’s not how that works. Then go to compare him to Denzel and DiCaprio . 

To which I want to start off by saying that his performance is without question the definitive reason that this film works so well and is as masterful as it is. 

When you have a character-driven film such as this, if your lead character, or in this case, your lead actor, is anything less than flawless. It’s’ going to sink the film. 

Chalamet not only elevates the film. He carries it. There are many great performances in this film, including Odessa A’Zion, who plays the love interest, Rachel. Another fantastic performance that is in need of recognition. For there are some scenes in which she really steals the film and flexes her strengths as an actor, but also shows reinforced what we already knew. This is a character-driven film. 

With that being said, there is so much more to making a film of this magnitude than simply having a great script and a leading man who can carry the film home. 

One needs to have a director with a vision and a DP who can bring that vision to the screen. Executing the singular vision to the silver screen, which is done here flawlessly. 

The pacing of the film is damn near perfect; there is not a single moment where the story lags or the tempo changes. The consistency and intensity that the film manages to maintain throughout is astonishing. Bringing a level of intensity and depth to such a simple concept of table tennis. 

The lengths in which Marty goes through to fulfill his destiny, to see his dreams become his reality, is what makes this film work. At its core, it’s the story of an underdog, trying to make his way to the top. An underdog story like we’ve never seen before. A character whose drive is something to aspire to. Not because they’re a good person or they do what is morally right. But because they have this selfishness that accompanies greatness. 

Overall, this is one of the best pictures of the year. Josh Safdie creates a world in which table tennis is not only interesting, it’s liberating. Watching someone free themselves from the pressure of the world to achieve greatness is inspiring, yet grounded with this unsettling feeling of despair.  Showing that dreams indeed come true, but never free. 

Even the scenes in which we are watching people play ping pong are so well executed; the choreography is astonishing and breathtaking. Which is never how I would ever imagine describing watching two men play ping pong. The level in which the action is executed is an achievement within itself.

The story is bold, compelling, and just dark enough to make it feel real and gritty. Raising the stakes on what most would consider nothing more than a recreational hobby for kids. 

This is without question TimothĂ©e Chalamet’s best performance yet, alongside Josh Safdie’s best directing effort to date. 

Overall Rating: 5/5 Stars. 

The Housemaid – Just Short Of. A Good Thriller

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By:Dominic La-Viola

From the director of films such as “A Simple Favor,”“Spy,” “Ghostbusters” ( 2016), and “Bridesmaids” comes yet another thriller. 

Paul Feig, who got his start in directing comedies and then made his way into other genres. With this latest film feels very much like a throwback to early 2000s thrillers, although not as captivating. 

The film plays it pretty straightforwardly for almost the entire film.  There’s little room for real tension or any real sense of uncertainty, killing off any chance of suspense. 

It’s clear from the beginning that something is off, that nothing is what it seems. Even the oblivious things are obliviously off kilter.

The film misses its mark at every turn to build suspense or any real anticipation of what’s to come. By halfway through the second act, we know that the film we’re watching isn’t the film that we have been made to believe it is. 

Unfolding the series of events in such a way that the character arcs and introduction of the characters completely contradict who they are. Every character in the film is playing a version of themselves that’s not who they really are, hindering the storyline. 

The performances of the film really are its saving grace. Making the film not only watchable but rather enjoyable. Both Amanda Seyfried and Sydney Sweeney embody their characters in such a way that their characters’ underlying despise of one another really comes to life in their performances. So much so that that lingering tension never really fades. 

The shots are crisp, the editing is tight, and the score works. Feig has this way of making the film feel interesting while never really making it intense. 

Which in one aspect really works but at the same time makes the film fall short. Robbing it of becoming a truly great thriller / drama. One that will be remembered beyond recent times. A classic like “Basic Instinct” for example.

Overall, even with its flaws, both in storyline and some plot issues, Paul Feig delivers a film that is both fun and worth seeing.

As much as I think the film doesn’t work on the level of being a great thriller or even a good one. The characters  are interesting enough that you’re drawn into the film, thanks to Seyfried and Sweeney’s performances 

Fieg does a stellar job at maintaining the pacing and flow of the film. Never giving you enough time during the viewing to allow your mind to wonder or truly question some of the things that are happening. For whenever you begin to question something, something else happens or catches your eye. Allowing time for the question to be asked, but never enough time for the mind to wonder. 

One of the biggest problems with the film is the ending and what seems to be a forced opening for a sequel that we will probably never see. 

Overall Rating: 

3.5 / 5 Stars. 

Paris, Texas

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By:Dominic La-Viola

Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas (1984) is not a film that announces itself through narrative urgency. It does not hook you with twists or forward momentum. Instead, it drifts. It breathes. It waits. In doing so, it becomes one of cinema’s purest demonstrations of mood as meaning—where atmosphere is not decoration, but the emotional language of the film itself.

From its opening image—Travis Henderson wandering silently through the Texas desert, red cap pulled low, face weathered by absence—the film establishes a tone of quiet desolation. The land stretches endlessly, swallowing him whole. This is not the mythic West of conquest or freedom, but a spiritual wasteland, an emotional afterimage. Ry Cooder’s slide guitar enters like a ghost, its bluesy lament echoing the ache of a man who has lost not only his family, but his place in the world.

Wenders understands that mood is born from restraint. Travis speaks almost not at all for the film’s first act. Silence becomes character. Each unspoken moment allows the viewer to sit with his alienation rather than be guided through it. We are not told what he has done, or why he left. We feel the weight of it before we understand it. This withholding is crucial. Paris, Texas does not ask us to judge Travis—it asks us to inhabit his emptiness.

The film’s visual language reinforces this emotional stasis. Robby Müller’s cinematography frames people as small within their environments, dwarfed by highways, billboards, and open skies. America appears both vast and impersonal, a country built for movement but ill-equipped for intimacy. Neon signs glow in the background like artificial suns, offering warmth but no comfort. Even domestic spaces feel provisional, as though they might dissolve at any moment.

Color plays a vital role in shaping the film’s mood. Reds, blues, and muted earth tones dominate the frame, often clashing rather than harmonizing. Jane’s world—when she finally appears—is bathed in artificial blues and pinks, colors of desire and distance. She exists behind glass, literally separated from human touch. The famous peep-show sequence is not shot for titillation, but for emotional excavation. The glass between Travis and Jane becomes the film’s defining metaphor: intimacy without contact, confession without consequence, love refracted through shame.

What makes Paris, Texas remarkable is how it treats memory as something physical. The past is not a series of flashbacks or narrative reveals—it lingers in posture, in pauses, in the way Travis struggles to look at his son. Hunter is not merely a child; he is a living reminder of what Travis abandoned. Their growing bond is rendered through routine rather than drama—shared walks, mirrored gestures, quiet glances. Mood here is built through repetition, not escalation.

When Travis finally speaks—when he recounts the story of his jealousy and self-destruction—it arrives not as a climax, but as a release. His monologue is devastating precisely because it is understated. He speaks calmly, as though narrating someone else’s life. The mood shifts not through music or editing, but through emotional clarity. For once, the film allows articulation—but only after it has taught us how to listen.

Crucially, Paris, Texas refuses the comfort of resolution. Travis does not reclaim his family. He orchestrates their reunion, then disappears once more. This is not an act of redemption, but of acceptance. The film understands that some wounds do not heal—they simply stop bleeding. Mood, once again, does the work that plot typically would. We are left not with answers, but with a feeling: a quiet, lingering melancholy tempered by grace.

In the end, Paris, Texas is a masterclass in how cinema can communicate inner life without explanation. It trusts images over dialogue, atmosphere over incident, and silence over spectacle. Wenders shows us that mood is not the absence of story—it is story, distilled to its emotional essence. Long after the final frame fades, what remains is not what happened, but how it felt. And that feeling—lonely, tender, unresolved—is where Paris, Texas lives forever.

Remembering Rob Reiner

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By: Dominic La-Viola

In death, we always look back to admire the life of the person in which we lost. With the passing of Actor and Filmmaker Rob Reiner, instead of talking about the details and covering the story of his death.

I decided to make a list of 10 films that he made that everyone should see. A tribute to remembering his life, and his achievements.

1. When Harry Met Sally… (1989)

The definitive modern romantic comedy

This is Reiner’s masterpiece-not because it’s flashy, but because it’s precise. Every scene advances an idea about intimacy, timing, and emotional maturity. Nora Ephron’s script gets the headlines, but Reiner’s direction is what gives the film its rhythm: conversational, intimate, patient.

What makes it last. 

2. Stand by Me (1986)

Childhood remembered as myth

Few films capture memory the way Stand by Me does. It’s not really about finding a body

—it’s about realizing, too early, that childhood ends.

Reiner directs this with extraordinary restraint. He trusts faces, pauses, and the emotional intelligence of kids who don’t yet know how to articulate loss.

3. This Is Spinal Tap (1984)

The blueprint for modern mockumentary

What’s radical about Spinal Tap isn’t the jokes—it’s the commitment. Reiner treats the band with the seriousness of a prestige documentary, letting absurdity emerge organically. 

4. The Princess Bride (1987)

…

A fairy tale that knows it’s a fairy tale

Reiner’s genius here is tonal balance. The film is sincere and ironic, romantic and ridiculous. It understands fantasy as a shared story-something passed down, questioned, and retold. A film, that on paper shouldn’t work, but not only does.  It flourishes. 

5. Misery (1990)

Control, obsession, and authorship

Reiner’s darkest film—and one of Stephen King’s best adaptations. Misery works because it’s about art as captivity. Kathy Bates’ Annie Wilkes isn’t just a villain; she’s an audience taken to its logical extreme. Not to mention, the films gives us one do the best Oscar winning performances ever. 

6. A Few Good Men (1992)

The courtroom drama as moral battlefield

This is Reiner operating at full studio scale, but still grounded in character. The film asks whether institutions value truth—or obedience-and doesn’t offer easy answers.

7. The American President (1995)

Politics as romantic idealism

Often dismissed as light, this film is actually one of the clearest expressions of Reiner’s worldview: that sincerity still matters, even when systems are broken.

8. Ghosts of Mississippi (1996)

Justice delayed, memory unresolved

One of Reiner’s most overlooked films. It’s a sober examination of history’s unfinished business, focusing less on spectacle and more on moral responsibility.

9. Flipped (2010)

Young love without irony

Late-career Reiner returned to childhood perspective with unexpected gentleness.

Flipped is small, earnest, and emotionally clear. A true hidden gem. 

10. The Bucket List (2007)

Mortality for mainstream audiences

This is Reiner at his most populist. The film isn’t subtle, but it’s emotionally transparent-and sometimes that’s enough.

Jim Carrey Almost Walked Off “How The Grinch Stole Christmas”

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By:Dominic La-Viola

“The Grinch” was only a staple in modern film history for Christmas movies. It’s also a movie in which the lead almost walked off due to how tasking and demanding the film was. 

Jim Carrey spoke out about having almost walked off the set of Ron Howard’s “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”. Giving back his $ 20 million dollar upfront paycheck. 

In order to stay on and continue making the film, they had to hire a torture specialist… Yes, apparently that’s a real thing. 

Although it’s not what you might think. It wasn’t the character himself that made Carrey mad. It was the transformation into becoming the character. Literally, not metaphorically. 

The studio apparently told the costume designers that they were paying Jim $ 20 million, and they wanted to see Jim just to paint him green. 

Which, for Carrey’s sake, probably would have been a better alternative. The issue Carrey had was with the make-up.

Now I remember years ago when asked if he would ever do a squeal, he flat out said no because of how much of a pain the make-up was. He would be in a chair for hours every day to apply the make-up. 

In this recent interview, he goes more in detail, talking about how he couldn’t breathe through his nose and was mouth breathing the entire movie. 

Which, when you think about it. Everything combined, it does make sense why he has negative feelings about the production.

Although I remember not only seeing the movie in theaters when it first came out but also when it first came out on DVD. 

The film was such a huge deal at the time, and I think it still is. Of course, there have been new adaptations since its release. Which are animated.

But nevertheless, this is still a classic Christmas movie, one that many watch every year . To which I couldn’t imagine if it didn’t get made, or worse. Someone else played the role of the Grinch. 

Source -Total Film 

One Of The Best Movies Of 2025 Thus Far

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By: Dominic La-Viola

All too often, I have been seeing online people saying that 2025 was a terrible year for film. That there were no “good” movies that really came out this year. Of course, anyone that’s been watching knows that’s the furthest from the truth.

From studio tentpoles, indie films, to foreign films, I remember driving an hour and a half up to a neighboring state to see the one and only screening they had of “Twinless”. A fan favorite that premiered at the Sundance Film Festival earlier that year.

Finally being able to catch a screening of Sinners. The new Ryan Coogler film, to which I missed my chance to see an advanced screening. Only to leave the theater more excited than when I sat down. For I remember thinking there is no way this film is going to be anywhere as good as people are hyping it up.

Being lucky enough to see Sydney Sweeney’s new film “Christy” in theaters. The indie gem that was taking the festival circuit by storm. Generating a lot of Oscar buzz for its star, Sydney Sweeney, for her breakout performance as Christy Martin, the trailblazing woman boxer.

Yet, if someone would ask me what the best film of the year was, I would be flabbergasted. Not because there are no films that come to mind, but because there are too many films that pop into my mind. Some of which are tentpole films that will be in everyone’s top ten. Some films that I feel were absolutely brilliant and captured something that isn’t necessarily new and inventive, although still captivating and top tier nonetheless.

For all intents and purposes of this essay, I am forced to choose one. A film that not only was an artistic achievement, one that completely moved me and overwhelmed me with emotion. One of the only films that I saw this year with such raw power to captivate, educate, and even advocate.

I remember the day that I went to see the film in theaters. Before that day, I had no idea that the film existed, let alone had any intention of seeing it.

Although the way my screenings were lined up for that day, I noticed that there was this film that I had never heard of playing right in the middle of two of the screenings I had lined up for that day. So I decided to give it a try and added it to my lineup for the day.

Going in, I had no real idea what I was in for, reading only briefly part of the synopsis that was on the ticketing app. Undoubtedly for the best, for nothing could have prepared me for the film that I had witnessed.

Having or not thinking I had an understanding of the film might have tarnished the cinematic journey I had begun.

For I believe that poor marketing and bad advertising is not only the cause of failure for some movies but also being misunderstood and inevitably seen as bad. Since they don’t match up to what the viewer has previously expected.

“Dead To Rights” is as much a war film as it is a period piece drama. Although not on the scale of films such as “Saving Private Ryan”. Where we follow soldiers on a journey. More along the lines of “Schindler’s List” in the sense that the film is the retelling of a horrific genocide, where war is in the backdrop and civilian casualties are in the forefront.

From the opening scene, we are thrown right into the streets of Nanjing. Watching as people were trying to flee the city, seeing the massacre happening in the opening frames.

Not a war overflowing to the streets of this town. Active war crimes against civilians, although we don’t know that just quite yet. All we see is the streets being shot up, and at first glance what appears to be soldiers fleeing.

Only that wasn’t the case. They were mail carriers, which dressed in suits that were similar to military uniforms. Not war camo, but dress slacks. We only come to find out that they were mail carriers because the boss told everyone to take off their uniforms so they’re not mistaken for soldiers and are shot on site.

Not that it mattered. They were shooting and hunting down the Chinese people on the streets, shooting on site. Civilians or not. Which at first, with no context and understanding of what’s going on. Everything seems chaotic and detached.

Ao Shen does such a fantastic job of not only setting the tone of the film in which we are about to watch. Giving us this insightful and educational experience about the events that happen in Nanjing in 1938, right around the time of WW2.

This film offers an insightful and educational experience and a glance at a tragic event that I feel that many aren’t aware of. I remember learning in history class about WW2 and various different aspects of the war, but never about this.

I remember when first reviewing the film and posting my video review on YouTube, I received praise for reviewing the film, by many people. To which they expressed the importance of this movie to not only them but the Chinese people. For it sheds light on a very tragic moment in their history, that many know nothing about.

Upon learning of the events that took place, and more details about this story, I came to have a better understanding of the importance of this film.

For I remember seeing on the poster it said based on a true story. Which can usually mean a lot of different things, not always meaning the events are historically accurate.

Although I soon learned that the events that took place, while the character names might have been different than the people in which the events are based on. The genocide and horrendous acts were very much real.

Watching some of the scenes, not knowing what was real and what was embellished for cinematic significance at times made me sick to my stomach. The acts of violence and brutality being portrayed on screen made my stomach churn.

There were a few memorable scenes that really stood out and made an impactful impression. Starting with the opening scene.

Once discovered by enemy soldiers, Ching is chased down and almost executed even though it is clear he is a civilian. The tension that is built up in this scene is not only important, but the message that is created.

The only reason in which he is saved is because Major Kuroshima orders Hideo Ito to execute him, to prove himself. Although before he does, he asks if he’s a photographic developer. Which he lies to save himself and says he is.

Now watching this scene play out, it was clear that Ito didn’t want to kill anyone, or more so he didn’t have the stomach to kill anyone. Which was a fundamental moment in the film, that really strikes you and pulls you in.

Giving you this perspective that not all the soldiers were war criminals and these elites, whom believed that they were superior.

Aside from him, was a Chinese translator, one whom worked with the Japanese, and thought of himself as an advocate and ally to the Japanese. Who helps Chang, without putting himself in harm’s way, while all the while not turning his back on his people.

From that moment, we knew that he didn’t know what he was doing, but more importantly we start to learn the true meaning of human connection and what human decency is.

The family and owner of the shop were hiding in the basement, in a trap door, under the shop. For they knew they couldn’t flee, so they decided to hide. After the soldiers left. The real owner comes out of hiding to see if the coast is clear and discovers Chang.

We see this pure willingness to survive, but also to help another person in need. So he agrees to teach Chang how to process and develop photos, in exchange for keeping their secret.

At first it’s very much the survival instinct and working together to make it through this very difficult and challenging time to say the least. Yet as time goes on, these characters begin to change, and develop.

I remember sitting in the theater watching this film and seeing the events unfold before my eyes. The events that followed were completely disturbing and gut-wrenching. After learning how to develop the film. Of course, they come back to not only get the photos that he needed developed but wanted to watch him do it, so he knew he could.

The level of disrespect for the personal photos that were in the shop was astounding. Saying something along the lines of those photos mean nothing and are worthless anyway. That moment really stuck with me.

For it wasn’t about the economic value of the photos in which he was referring to. It was simply the existence of the photos. That those people’s images and memories did not matter.

There was a shot showing the photos being ruined by the light exposure. Seeing the image of this family. The realization kicked in. This person, who saved this guy’s life, doesn’t really care about humanity or his fellow people. His acts were completely selfish, not selfless.

For at first, that is what I honestly thought, that he saved his life because he did not want to kill. That he spared him, not because he needed him, but because he didn’t want to kill him or for him to be killed.

That moment was the first moment that we were introduced to the real person he was. A soulless monster who had no regard for human life. He merely saved his life to cover his own skin, for we learn that he did not have the knowledge to develop his own film.

That he wasn’t a war photographer because he didn’t want to kill people, but had to serve in the military. He was rich, had a background in photography, but never developed his own photos because he had someone to do that for him. His parents made him join as a war photographer because it was safe and he would serve his country and honor the family name.

The lengths in which Wang Guanghai, the interpreter, goes through not only to save his family but his girlfriend. Whom he is having an affair with, and get them safe passage out of the city. Also says a lot about the film, but more so the events that the film portrays.

We are shown glimpses of moments that indicate that his girlfriend is being raped and used by the Japanese soldiers, even though she is supposed to be under the protection of the Japanese, for she is a comrade. A friend of the imperial army. Yet they don’t treat her as a person but as a piece of property.

Giving us a more insightful knowledge of the true nature of these soldiers, but the interpreter. Whom claims that the Japanese just want to co exist. W2

The moment in which we first learn that the girlfriend was hiding a castaway Chinese soldier in a clothing box. Feeding him food, and hiding him away so the Japanese don’t kill him.

Her putting her life on the line for someone she doesn’t know. Shows this great value of human decency. This shimmer of hope that not all hope is gone.

The moment in which Ching has earned two passages out of the city for the work he has done for the photographer. One for him and one for his “wife,” who is really the translator’s girlfriend, pretending to be married to him to get her out of there. For the translator can only save himself and his family.

Watching his family being gunned down with hundreds of other people having the river run red with their blood, all while he turns around while they’re shooting . He has no idea that his family is being gunned down right behind him. For they’re supposed to be safe.

That unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. The sense in which Ching and the wife are getting their pictures taken. The Japanese trying to put on a fake show of how great they’re treating the Chinese.

Only to then shoot a crying baby in the head, only after ripping it out of the mother’s arms and then handing it to them. To pretend it’s their own and they’re a happy family.

That sense broke me completely. The thought that someone would, could just shoot a baby like that. The portrayal of a real monster. The choice to keep that in the film. The demonstration of pure hatred and violence was completely unnecessary, yet added to the story and tone of the film brilliantly. Conveying such strong emotions, in one scene.

It’s not simply the technical aspect of the film that makes this one of the best of the year. Although it does without question hold significant value from a technical point. It’s the story and the execution of it that makes this the best film of the year.

There are so many heartfelt, compelling, and profound moments in the film that make this film stand out. I can’t remember the last time I left a theater feeling so overwhelmed with emotion.

As many great films that came out this year, some of which were original titles, some sequels or reboots of exciting IP. This one without question is one that tells a story that needs to be told. The film conveys not only emotional value but technical achievements as well.

Ella McCay – A Reminder Of What Comedy Used To Be. 

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By:Dominic La-Viola

Ella McCay is a modern film that reminds us of what movies used to be like. Kindling with nostalgia, witty dialogue, and the perfect blend of humor and heartbreak. Funny, witty, blissful, typical, but not predictable. 

I remember first seeing the trailer for the film and seeing it was from writer/director James L. Brooks. Which might not mean anything to some today, but at one point in time, he was one of a household name, in the sense his movies were always big hits. Both critically and financially.

With that being said, I had an idea of what to expect, very similar to when going into a Richard Curtis film. There is usually always a similar tone and style with their films that never change. 

Offering something familiar, all while being new and enjoyable. For the style and tone that Brooks uses is similar to a library of films. 

The fact that the film is set in 2008, instead of modern times, offers a unique perspective. Given the fact that the main character is working in politics. That was probably for the best, considering how divided everyone is based on politics in the current era.

Our narrator even mentions this in the opening of the film. That as bad as 2008 was, one of the worst economic times in our country’s history since the Great Depression. It was still a simpler time, because we all got along.

Feeling almost like the film’s undertone is striving to bring people together, not as blunt and forward as Richard Curtis’s “Love Actually”. More of an undertone, offering a satire of the inner workings of politics. 

All the while, the forefront is about family drama, centered around Ella McCay. The main character, who carries the film through her charm and inspiration.

As much as this is a popcorn flick. We are attached and invested, not because the storyline or story arc is particularly important or interesting. But simply because of our title character, played by Emma Mackey. Most famously known for her breakout role in Netflix’s “Sex Education”, the British TV series. 

She’s not necessarily relatable, for she lacks basic people skills because she is clearly always the smartest person in the room. Yet, she is never entitled or snotty about it. Her charm comes from her being overly sensitive and carrying. Her unrealistic selflessness makes her lovable and the perfect character until it doesn’t. 

To top it off, there are amazing supporting characters and roles, played by Jamie Lee Curtis and Woody Harrison. Whose performances are top tier, truly bringing in the laughs. Embodying these classic performances of being exaggerated versions of family members and people we know. Grounding the film, while adding to that nostalgic tone.

While there are some parts of the storyline that are flimsy and things that are clearly unrealistic, and are clearly heavier on the satirical tone. Those moments are easily forgotten and overlooked. 

Overall, the film is far from great, original, or challenging boundaries. Yet, it works for what it is. A throwback to a style of drama/comedies we don’t really see anymore. I do have to give credit where credit is due. The comedy, while not as ongoing as one might hope. There was more than a handful of genuinely good comedic moments.

Overall Rating: 3.5/5 stars. 

Before Sunrise – Film Essay

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By: Dominic La-Viola

Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise is one of those rare films that feels small on the surface—two strangers talking, walking, riding trains, drinking wine—yet somehow feels enormous. It’s a quiet movie that hits with the weight of an entire lifetime. And the magic comes from how much it trusts the simplest things in cinema: conversation, curiosity, and time. A film built on moments. 

Jesse and Céline meet on a train by chance. They don’t exchange grand gestures, they don’t save each other’s lives—nothing that would justify a traditional “grand movie romance.” Instead, the film builds its entire emotional world on the possibility that one conversation can shift the trajectory of two people.

This idea—romance as an accident of timing—gives the film its tension. Every scene is aware of its own expiration. Sunrise isn’t just the title; it’s a countdown. Their connection is temporary, and the film never lets us forget it. From moments after they meet, Jesse tells her, that he’s jsut going to walk around Venice for the night because he doesn’t have enough money for a hotel and his train leaves in the morning. Would she want to walk around the city with him. From the start, everyone, including us knows, it’s a one night thing. That they will most likely never see each other again. 

Linklater uses Vienna like an emotional mirror. The characters don’t just talk while they walk; their movement is the emotion. Wandering the empty streets, floating through cafes, drifting into record stores—these spaces give their relationship room to breathe. The city functions almost like a third character, silently shaping where their thoughts go next.

This wandering structure is why the film feels so alive. Nothing is forced. There’s no plot machinery pushing them forward. Just two people letting their thoughts spill out in real time. Dialogue that feels real and effortless, because it’s allow to be messy.  Something that takes true skill to do masterfully. The unpolished dialogue, really is one of the films greatest strengths

.Jesse and Céline talk like people trying to impress each other while also trying to stay honest. Their conversations ramble, jump tracks, contradict themselves. They aren’t trading witty lines—they’re testing boundaries, trying on ideas, figuring out who the other person might be.

The film isn’t really about what they say. It’s about how they say it: the hesitations, the shy smiles, the moments when one of them says something too revealing and waits to see if it lands wrong. That uncertainty is the heartbeat of the movie. The ending is a terrific example of this. 

The scene in which they’re sitting in a cafe and they’re pretending call a friend, and tell them about the night they’re having and this person that they just met. 

Revealing themselves in the third person, trying to figure out, if the feelings they’re feeling is mutual. Dialogue, that you think would be cheesy and chewy, it plays out flirtatious and warming. Truly showing the brilliance of what good direction and  brilliant performances can do. 

Before Sunrise captures a very specific moment in life—when you’re still young enough to be brave with your feelings, but old enough to know that time is fragile. The film understands that at 20-something, you don’t fall in love with a person, but with the idea of possibility. It’s chemistry with that person, and the potential future that could be. Taking the idea of love at first sight, and building on that. The connection between two people, with the very real possibility of something more. Capturing the true sensation of being young, open and optimistic. 

By this point in life, everyone has experienced that moment of intimacy, infatuation and that lust of attraction to someone, but learning it’s more than just that. Learning, those emotions are simply a spark, that doesn’t always ignite into something more. 

Jesse and Céline are searching for something—connection, meaning, proof they aren’t alone—and they find it in each other, briefly, beautifully.

Their romance works because it feels earned. Not through drama, but through attention. They actually listen to each other. They notice. And that feels more intimate than any kiss. 

A perfect example of this is when, Jessie first calls the fortuneteller, guy a scam artist. Then as they’re leaving him and going onto their destination, he catches himself from saying anything else about it. Not because he changed his viewpoint,  but because he doesn’t want to change hers of him. Knowing that she believes it and doesn’t see why he needs to be so cynical. 

The ending is what makes the film unforgettable. There’s no promise of forever. No dramatic airport chase. No narrative closure. Instead, we’re left with the ache of what might come next. It’s a film about how a single night can become a lifetime memory—not because it lasts, but because it doesn’t.

Linklater lets the audience feel the same tension Jesse and CĂ©line feel: the pain of knowing real connections are rare, and the fear that this one might slip away.  But very much, avoids the trope of a Hollywood ending. 

In a world where relationships are fast, curated, and algorithmic, Before Sunrise feels radical. It reminds us of a time before the internet took over. Showing us the most meaningful  moments happen unplanned, and unscripted. It’s cinematic proof that small things—listening, walking, being present—can be profound.

The film’s simplicity is what makes it great. No spectacle. No twists. Just two people trying to understand each other before the sun comes up. Two people finding solace in each others company. That rare and precious moment. One that the older we get, the more we realize how rare and precious that moments and people really are.