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Euronews
25-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Euronews
Dreams, diamonds and dystopias: Euronews Culture's Top 10 Movies from Berlinale 2025
The 75th Berlin International Film Festival has wrapped its first year under new director Tricia Tuttle – and it was an extremely promising start. Now that we've had time to make our peace with the results, forget all about the dire opening film, and pray we'll never get cloned, it's time to round up our favourite films from this year's edition. These are the soon-to-be-released titles you should be keeping an eye out for this year. O Último Azul (The Blue Trail) Gabriel Mascaro's Brazil-set dystopian film The Blue Trail is without a doubt this year's Competition standout. While it narrowly missed out on the Golden Bear and had to settle for the runner-up prize (Silver Bear Grand Jury Prize), no other 2025 Bear-competing film came close to this anti-ageism parable with a huge heart. It stars Denise Weinberg as Tereza, an elderly woman defying the seemingly benevolent Brazilian government that has decreed people past the age of 75 should be sent to a remote housing facility called the Colony. She embarks on a journey to tick one last wish off her bucket list before she loses her freedom. After Neon Bull and Divine Love, Mascaro delicately embraces his central concept – which recalls Shōhei Imamura's The Ballad of Narayama and, to a point, Chie Hayakawa's Plan75 - and rather than overplay his dystopian hand (the population control aspect could have gone very Soylent Green), crafts a hypothetical future that feels plausible. Both timely and timeless, The Blue Trail is a witty, thought-provoking and affecting warning cry about the forced displacement of communities and the dark possibilities that could feasibly decry from an authoritarian future. Read our full review here. Release date: TBC, but the film has sold to various territories like France, Germany, Spain, Portugal and Norway. Expect it on your screens sooner rather than later. Sorda (Deaf) Winner of this year's Panorama Audience Award, Sorda (Deaf) is heart-poundingly beautiful and an absolute triumph. Spanish filmmaker Eva Libertad tells the story of an inter-abled couple: a deaf woman, Ángela (Miriam Garlo), and her hearing partner, Héctor (Álvaro Cervantes). They are expecting a child and don't know whether the baby will be deaf or hearing – and how each possibility could affect them as both a couple and as individuals wishing to share their perspective of the world. Like many films at this year's festival, Deaf deals with parenthood - specifically the trials of motherhood. However, what makes Libertad's film stand out in a crowded field is its depiction of love. By taking the time to introduce the audience to a loving couple and their supportive network of friends, the filmmaker ensures that we're completely invested in the wellbeing of this unit, as well as fully committed when it comes to grappling with the complex emotions at play. Whether it's parental responsibility, communication, isolation that decries from institutional discrimination or the importance of finding your community, Libertad does every facet justice - without ever toppling into melodrama. Do not miss out on Deaf. Release date: 4 April in Spain. Other European territories TBC. La tour de glace (The Ice Tower) Over the course of three films, from her 2004 debut Innocence to 2021's Earwig via Evolution, one of our favourite European films of the 21st century, Lucile Hadžihalolović has established herself as one of the most singular voices in French cinema. She did not disappoint for her fourth feature, a transfixing adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen's 'The Snow Queen'. Set in wintery 1970s France, this glacially paced fairy tale is more vibes than it is crescendoing narrative. It brims with brooding atmospherics, and through the mutual infatuation that grows between a young orphan (Clara Pacini) and an elusive actress (Marion Cotillard), the film gradually offers thematic strands on maternal substitutes and adolescent awakenings. It also introduces a fascinating mise en abyme in which Andersen's totemic mirror is replaced by a camera – thereby creating a meditation on the medium of cinema itself. Yes, it sounds like a lot and if you're not in the right mood, The Ice Tower 's longueurs and prism-like layers will prove more frustrating than entrancing. However, if you're looking for a frosty mood piece crackling with hidden meanings, this eerie reverie is a must-see. It left the Berlinale with the Bear for Artistic Achievement – and while this is amply merited, The Ice Tower should have earned Hadžihalolović the Best Director gong this year. Read our full review here. Release date: Scheduled for 17 September in France. Other territories TBC. Reflet dans un diamant mort (Reflection In A Dead Diamond) No other Competition film this year was quite as daring, kinetic or sensual as Reflection In A Dead Diamond, by French husband-and-wife filmmakers Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani. It's a tough one to describe, but here goes: Imagine the fever dream of a dying James Bond who looks back at his career in espionage, skipping through his memories of violence, sex and leather-clad assassins like a needle scratching the record, while Peter Strickland and Quentin Tarantino's undergarments tighten with cinephilic delight. It's 007 meets Death in Venice, for a hyper-fragmented valentine to everything from the Italian pulp comics Diabolik to Philippe de Broca's Le Magnifique via 1967's Bond spoof Casino Royale. Its strength though – quite aside from its trippy visuals – is that it goes beyond a 1960s Euro Spy genre homage or an OSS 117 pastiche. It's an incredibly sensorial ride that doesn't need you to recognise the film references it lovingly toys with and unveils layers of meaning regarding memory and the possibilities of cinema as an artform. It's a blast. Check out our interview with Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani. Release date: 2 July in France. Shudder have bought the distribution rights for the US, UK, Ireland, and Australia, so a Summer release for those territories seems likely. Den stygge stesøsteren (The Ugly Stepsister) Following its Sundance premiere, The Ugly Stepsister went to the Panorama sidebar section of the Berlinale, and the festival was stronger for it. The confident debut feature from Norwegian filmmaker Emilie Blichfeldt reimagines the fairy tale Cinderella through the eyes of Elvira (Lea Myren), who will go to any lengths to compete with her beautiful stepsister Agnes for the affections of the prince. While there have been several reframings of misunderstood characters over the years (Maleficent and the lot), The Ugly Stepsister stands out. It honours the Brothers Grimm tale in its period setting and grimness (pun intended), but also has the conviction of its vision. No matter how excruciating that vision may be. Tempting though it is to draw a comparison with Coralie Fargeat's The Substance (both films anchor themselves in the New Wave Feminist Horror movement and comment on societal expectations regarding beauty standards through squirm-inducing body horror and plenty of dark humour), Blichfeldt's film shouldn't be eclipsed by its genre neighbour. It's a fully-formed triumph that heralds a bold and ambitious new cinematic voice. Release date: 7 March in Norway. Shudder have secured the rights, so it should head to the streaming platform very soon. Stay tuned to Euronews Culture for our interview with Emilie Blichfeldt. And while you're waiting, catch up with our interview with Coralie Fargeat. El mensaje (The Message) If a miracle were to happen today, would we be able to recognise it? What if a logic-defying gift was bestowed on someone, could we appreciate it considering the times we live in? Iván Fund's minimalist marvel The Message is a black and white Argentinian road movie that seems to invite this question. It follows a little girl, Anika (played to perfection by the young Anika Bootz), who can read the minds of animals – both living and dead. The pint-sized Dr. Doolittle blessed with 'natural telepathy' travels around in a van with her guardians, who commodify this gift into a consultation business. Is it all a scam or can Anika truly establish a connection between worlds? It doesn't matter. Whether magic or fraud, Anika's sessions with (excessively cute) animals give hope. Perhaps at the cost of childhood wonder... The Message is a quietly mesmerising and tenderly enigmatic film that may seem meagre as a contemplative narrative; however, it beautifully lingers on the importance of connection, belief and the unspoken intergenerational 'gifts' we take for granted. Release date: TBC On vous croit (We Believe You) A standout this year was in the new Perspectives section of the Berlinale, dedicated to first fiction feature films. This Belgian debut from Charlotte Devillers and Arnaud Dufeys opens with the arrival of Alice (Myriem Akheddiou) and her children (Ulysse Goffin and Adèle Pinckaers) in court. She's nearing breaking point, while her kids are either on edge or temperamental in the extreme. They have a meeting with the family court judge for a grueling custody battle that's already three years in the making. We quickly learn that it's more complicated: there is a criminal investigation underway against the father (Laurent Capelluto), who allegedly raped his youngest son. Reminiscent of Xavier Legrand's Jusqu'à la garde (Custody), this agonizingly tense film is mostly set in one room – a long scene in which we hear the statements of each parent and their lawyers as if in real time. It all feels uncomfortably genuine, and for good reason: Devillers used her personal and professional experience as a nurse to inform the depiction of incest and sexual abuse, as well as the proceedings of the youth protection case. In 78 minutes, We Believe You reflects the grueling brutality of a system which perpetuates an endless spiral that reopens wounds and nourishes trauma. It's harrowing, enraging and masterfully performed. Release date: TBC Hé mán (Eel) Another Perspectives title which stands out this year is Eel, the feature debut by Taiwanese filmmaker Chu Chun-Teng. And with a title like that, it should be no surprise that the film is slippery – in the sense those looking for clear meaning should look elsewhere. Those willing to surrender to the bizarre and beautiful rhythms of dream logic should rush to see Eel. It centers on young man (Devin Pan) who works at a waste disposal plant when he's not sleepwalking and digging in the dirt for (metaphorical?) eels. He encounters a woman (Misi Ke), who floats onto the shore. They start a passionate relationship. Mystical past and realist present collide, as do contradictory longings for both belonging and escape. Trying to adequately describe what happens borders on impossible, but this cinematic tone poem features a visual verve that takes the viewer on a transcendental trip that is hard to define. And even harder to shake off. Release date: TBC Drømmer (Dreams (Sex Love)) The coveted Golden Bear went to Drømmer (Dreams (Sex Love)) by Norwegian director Dag Johan Haugerud. It is the third chapter in his thematic trilogy Sex / Love / Dreams, which deals with emotional and physical intimacy. The first chapter, Sex, premiered at the Berlinale last year and focused on two straight married men discovering the elasticity of their sexuality. Love, which premiered in Competition at last year's Venice Film Festival, followed two colleagues – a heterosexual woman and a gay man – seeking a romantic connection in the new world of dating apps. Now comes Dreams, which follows 17-year-old Johanne (Ella Øverbye), who falls head over heels for her new art teacher Johanna (Selome Emnetu). In an attempt to capture this intense romantic awakening, the student pours her experiences onto paper with raw honesty. She shares her confessional novella with her grandmother, who then shares it with Johanne's alarmist mum. Initially horrified, she suspects 'sexual abuse' and quickly changes her tune once she recognises her daughter's 'little feminist gem'. While Dreams may not be one of the most singular films in Competition this year, it's a gently captivating and very talky queer coming-of-age story that accurately captures the overwhelming intensity of first love. It's also crucially about the importance of perspective when it comes to longing – and how without acknowledging perspectives, the boundaries between reality and fiction tend to blur. Dreams is a bit of a safe choice as far as the Golden Bear is concerned, but it remains a superbly acted and often very funny trilogy capper. It features one of the greatest feminist takedowns of the film Flashdance you'll ever hear, and it will have you leaving the cinema with a smile. Release date: 8 May in Germany – more European dates to follow very soon. Lurker Best known for his writing and producing work on the series Beef and The Bear, Alex Russell makes his feature filmmaking debut with Lurker. It's a tense and very unsettling thriller starring Théodore Pellerin as Matthew, a young man who becomes obsessed with LA pop star Oliver (Archie Madekwe). It all starts innocently enough, and at first you feel for the sweaty and desperate hanger-on who gets exploited by Oliver's entourage. However, the obsession takes some Talented Mr Ripley turns, and the wiry outcast becomes unnerving and calculating. He'll do anything to cling onto the newfound glow of celebrity he's basking in. From the obsessive fandom of Misery to the dark influencer satire Ingrid Goes West, this sort of Fatal Attraction scenario doesn't sound too fresh. However, Russell manages to take the well-worn subject of fame-based power dynamics and thrillingly explores the pathology of celebrity and parasocial relationships. Powered every step of the way by Pellerin's genuinely unsettling performance, Lurker is a knot-in-stomach affair you won't forget in a hurry. Going one further, Russell impresses in the way he isn't interested in easy answers, subverting the obvious conclusion you'd expect to create something darker about toxic determination and the possibility of reinvention.
The Guardian
23-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
I'm Still Here review – wrenching true-life saga of a Brazilian family torn apart by military rule
Sometimes, the course of a life changes suddenly and emphatically with an event so final and unequivocal that it shifts the very world on its axis. On other occasions that change, or at least the understanding of that change, comes gradually, with the enormity of the situation obscured by the natural human propensity to hope for a happy outcome. For Eunice Paiva – the phenomenal Fernanda Torres – in Brazilian director Walter Salles's superb, factually based Portuguese-language drama I'm Still Here, both are true. When we first meet Eunice, life with her husband, Rubens (Selton Mello), a former congressman and civil engineer, and their five children in a beachfront house in 1970 Rio de Janeiro, is full of friends and laughter; books and art; cigars, whisky and celebration. The flexing muscle of Brazil's military dictatorship is background noise – the helicopter blades carving up the sky as the kids play beach volleyball; the rumble of a convoy of armoured vehicles on the seafront – that can be tuned out. It feels removed from the liberal intellectual social whirl of the Paiva household. Then one afternoon, men with guns and sour faces arrive at the door. They've come, they say, to take Rubens to make a statement. Who they are and where he has been removed to remain a mystery. Eunice and her 15-year-old daughter, Eliana (Luiza Kosovski), are also questioned. Eliana, although Eunice doesn't know it, is released after 24 hours. Eunice, meanwhile, is kept in a filthy cell and subjected to repeated interrogations over 12 days. It's the kind of trauma that scars a person's psyche, but Eunice, for the sake of her kids and her own sanity, puts on a brave face and one of her many immaculately chic trouser suits and campaigns for Rubens' safe return. The first and longest chapter of this involving saga observes an unwittingly sheltered woman slowly coming to terms with the fact that the world has changed for ever, and so must she. The realisation that her husband is gone for good is a gradual process that plays out, largely without words, on Torres's face, in a performance of extraordinary intelligence and emotional complexity. She is deservedly Oscar-nominated for best actress. I'm Still Here is also in contention for best picture and best international feature film, and following the Emilia Pérez debacle it's the one to beat in this last category. His first Brazil-set feature since Linha de Passe in 2008, it's a personal project for Salles (The Motorcycle Diaries; Central Station). As a child in Rio, he was close friends with the Paiva children – part of the constant tide of visitors who flowed through the always-open doors of the airy, friendly house on the beach. I'm Still Here is based on a memoir by Eunice's son Marcelo Rubens Paiva, who co-wrote the screenplay with Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega; the considerable Paiva archive of photos and home videos was an invaluable resource. In this film about the resilience of family, there's also a personal connection for lead actor Torres: her mother, Fernanda Montenegro, nominated 26 years ago for an Oscar for her performance in Central Station, appears in this film in a brief but devastating coda, playing Eunice as an older woman. Meticulous in its period detail, I'm Still Here unfolds in a vividly evoked early 1970s Rio, with two later chapters set in 1996 and 2014. Far-reaching in its themes, the picture represents Salles at his absolute best. It looks sublime: the director chose to shoot on various film stocks, with grainy, skittish Super-16 capturing the energy and excitement of being a teenager running riot on the streets of Rio, and 35mm bringing a pleasing, lived-in texture to the domestic scenes. A terrific soundtrack balances the irreverent energy of Brazilian Tropicália artists such as Tom Zé and Caetano Veloso against a pensive, brooding score by Warren Ellis. Among the film's many exquisitely realised scenes, several stand out. One comes immediately after Eunice has heard from an associate of her husband the unconfirmed rumour of Rubens' death. She has promised to take the children for ice-cream and that's what she does, wrapping them in a protective layer of normalcy. But she scans the room in anguish, each laughing family sharing sundaes a choking reminder of the small, shared marital joys stolen from her. Another is when Eunice decides to relocate the family to São Paulo to go back to college (in real life, she went on to become a human rights lawyer). As the last of their possessions are loaded into the car, the youngest of the Paiva children, Babiu (Cora Mora), sits on the doorstep, her face a mask of grief, leaning towards the now empty rooms as though drawn by the magnetic pull of happier times. It's in this moment, we later learn, that the Babiu 'buried' her father, realising then that he wasn't coming home. I have watched I'm Still Here three times, and this achingly sad single shot has broken me every time. In UK and Irish cinemas
