Latest news with #Lynchian
Yahoo
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
‘The Love That Remains' Review: Hlynur Pálmason Follows ‘Godland' With a Snapshot of Marital Dissolution More Elemental Than Affecting
Over three features set in his native Iceland, Hlynur Pálmason has established a distinctive feel for the power of landscapes and elemental forces to shape human relationships, positioning them in stark relief. A feeling as intimate as isolation can take on epic dimensions under the writer-director's gaze, notably in his 2022 head-turner Godland, an austerely beautiful study of man vs. nature whose spirituality is pierced by shards of wily humor and Lynchian strangeness. Similar qualities are evident in The Love That Remains (Ástin sem eftir er), albeit on a smaller canvas of domestic breakdown. Serving as his own DP — and shooting on 35mm in Academy ratio — Pálmason's expansive sense of composition remains striking in this drama of a ruptured marriage, which is never less than compelling even at its most frustrating. His untethered imagination generates images that can function as visual metaphors or abstract enigmas. But as the film evolves into an increasingly fragmented collage of juxtaposed surreal and everyday vignettes, any emotional connection to the characters begins to fade. More from The Hollywood Reporter Uberto Pasolini's 'The Return,' Ira Sachs' 'Peter Hujar's Day' Set for 2025 Mediterrane Film Festival in Malta Russell Brand Pleads Not Guilty to Rape, Indecent and Sexual Assault Charges in London Sky Doc on Flight 149 British Airways Passengers, Crew Held Hostage by Saddam Hussein Gets Trailer There's a rich history of screen dramas about unraveling marriages that eschew the mawkish tendencies of weepie melodrama. From Kramer vs. Kramer to Shoot the Moon; Scenes From a Marriage to Marriage Story. Asghar Farhadi's morally complex and culturally specific A Separation is a noteworthy standout of recent decades. On the less rewarding end of the spectrum, Carlos Reygadas' Our Time is a maddeningly self-indulgent slog and arguably the director's least interesting movie. Like that 2018 Mexican feature, Pálmason's new film also casts members of his own family — his three children — whose unselfconscious spontaneity seems the result of growing up around a father rarely without a camera. The director has always been less interested in plot than character, mood and atmosphere, and this movie's idiosyncratic storytelling goes a long way toward papering over its flaws. Even if it's sometimes the cause of them. It opens with the startling image of a roof being crumpled and lifted off an empty warehouse building by crane, hovering in the air briefly like a UFO before being swung around out of the frame. The building is the former studio of visual artist Anna (Saga Gardarsdottir) and its demolition by developers provides an apt metaphor for the lid being lifted off her world. She works hard to balance her life as a frazzled but caring mother to three spirited children — teenage Ída (Ída Mekkín Hlynsdóttir) and her tow-headed preteen brothers Grímur and Porgils (Grímur and Porgils Hlynsson) — with chasing the elusive next step to gallery representation and wider recognition. Anna's methodology for creating her paintings (borrowed from Pálmason's own visual arts process) is highly physical, hinting at the Herculean strength and dedication required to make art. Working in a field, she arranges large iron cutout shapes on raw canvases, weighting them down with wood or stones and leaving them exposed to the elements through the winter, allowing rust and dirt, rain and snow to 'paint' them. We get little concrete information about what triggered Anna's breakup with the kids' father, Magnús (Sverrir Gudnason), who appears already to be living separately from the family when the film begins. He's away at sea for long stretches on an industrial fishing trawler during herring season and there's a hint of him not pulling his weight with parental responsibilities. There's a sense of the uneasy coexistence of man and nature in scenes with massive nets being hauled in by a mechanized winch and a silver blur of fish by the hundreds funneled into storage while an orca bobs around looking to get a taste of the catch. Glimpses of Magnús alone in his cabin on the boat, or his prickly interactions with insensitively prying shipmates, quietly reveal his gnawing sense of solitude. Magnús keeps dropping by the family home unannounced, staying for a meal or just a beer with Anna. There's even sex on occasion, but mostly, Anna's residual fondness for him is frayed by impatience and annoyance. She's ready to move on with her life while he's like a clingy puppy, refusing to let go. Gudnason plays the awkwardness of these scenes with raw feeling, in contrast to Gardarsdottir's more matter-of-fact resilience. Moments in which Magnús gets testy because the boys automatically respond to their mother's chore requests while they ignore his stabs at basic discipline — like clearing their own dinner plates and loading them into the dishwasher — are poignant illustrations of the way he has become an outsider in his former home. Anna's taxing attempts to make professional inroads are distilled in a string of scenes in which a Swedish gallerist (Anders Mossling) accepts her invitation to visit. The dreary windbag shows little interest in the work she has painstakingly hung in a new studio rental ('Are they all the same color?') then subjects her to a mind-numbing monologue about the health properties of wine over lunch, to which she listens in silence. When she shows him her works-in-progress laid out in the open field, he's more attentive to the beauty of the hilltop coastal setting, gasping over the glacier across the bay or stealing an egg from a goose's nest. The scene in which she drops him at the airport for his return flight has an acerbic bite. He tells her he has no space for her work and patronizes her with empty assurances that she will find the right gallery, or the right gallery will find her. In response to his joking reference to his mother, Anna mutters, 'Your mother's a whore,' while the dead-eyed look on her face expresses her wish for his plane to crash. Pálmason and his actors tap the melancholy vein of two people drifting apart after a long shared history when Anna first lies to Magnús about the gallerist's visit being a success, then opens up about her soul-crushing day, venting her anger about the man's self-absorbed tediousness. But even in those moments of closeness, it's clear that while Magnús wants to go back to the way things were, that time has passed for Anna, who discourages him from spending the night and confusing the children. Quite often, she just seems exhausted by him, even if the director shows nonjudgmental compassion for both characters. One thread that Pálmason shot two years earlier observes the scarecrow figure that Grímur and Porgils assemble on the edge of the field where their mother works, gradually assuming the appearance of an armored knight as the seasons change. They use the effigy as an archery target, which foreshadows an alarming accident late in the film. The knight also comes to life at one point, paying a nocturnal visit to Magnús, as does a monster-size apparition of the rooster he killed when Anna complained of its aggressive behavior in the chicken coop. But these fantastical interludes — sparked by the b&w creature features Magnús falls asleep watching on late-night TV — tend to be opaque rather than illuminating. A more effective blurring of the lines between fantasy and reality is a sequence in which Magnús imagines — or does he? — being adrift at sea, waiting to be picked up by a boat to deliver him back to shore. That image of distance, as hope recedes, makes for a haunting closing shot. Both leads are excellent, conveying the weary sadness of separation, underscored by enduring affections, and the naturalness of the three children adds immeasurably to the drama's intimacy. Ingvar Sigurdsson (unforgettable in Godland and Pálmason's previous film, the searing drama of grief and jealousy A White, White Day) makes a welcome appearance as Anna's warm, down-to-earth dad. There's much to admire in Pálmason's unconventional approach to what could have been familiar domestic drama. But the dreamlike detours threaten to overwhelm the tender portrait of a family breakup. The film is most affecting in its casual observation — set to the jazz-inflected melodies of Harry Hunt's Playing Piano for Dad album — of moments like Anna and the three children sprawled across the couch watching TV; a reprieve from separation tension during a family hiking and picnic day, when they pick wild mushrooms and berries; the kids skating on a frozen pond; gently handling fluffy, freshly hatched chicks; or playing basketball as the family's scene-stealing Icelandic sheepdog Panda (Pálmason's own dog) darts about barking, wanting to join in. As imaginative as the surreal departures are, it's the magic of those quotidian moments in a fractured family's life that resonate most. Best of The Hollywood Reporter 13 of Tom Cruise's Most Jaw-Dropping Stunts Hollywood Stars Who Are One Award Away From an EGOT 'The Goonies' Cast, Then and Now
Time Out
6 days ago
- Business
- Time Out
More than 400 of David Lynch's personal items to be auctioned: Everything you need to know
'I just had two cookies and a Coke. That's phenomenal.' That's what David Lynch said once, sitting in the backseat of a car with a floral garland around his name. The director, writer, and full-time surrealist clearly loved the little things in life. But the Blue Velvet and Mullholland Drive filmmaker, who passed away this January, also amassed a vast archive of film memorabilia, personal cameras, abstract paintings, erotic art books, coffee machines, and Lynch's own 'lunchbox with trinkets'. Now, all of them are up for auction thanks to L.A. auction house Julien's and vintage TV network Turner Classic Movies. With online bids already live, 'The David Lynch Collection' will face the hammer on June 18, 2025. As one can expect, the lineup of souvenirs is randomly assorted and quite diverse. In other words, Lynchian to the core. What items are on sale? The most sought-after items right now are understandably film-related memorabilia like Lynch's own personalized director's chair (current bid at $27,500), his personal 35 mm prints of Eraserhead (current bid at $22,500), and those velvety red curtains from Twin Peaks: The Return (current bid at $15,000). A deeper dive through the online catalogue also takes you through other facets of Lynch's quirky and whimsical life. For instance, if you scroll past the cinematic heavy hitters, you can catch a glimpse of Lynch, the craftsman. Many of the sofas and tables being auctioned were crafted by Lynch himself and are sourced from his home art studio. Etsy aficionados should keep an eye out for an incense holder, again made by the man himself. But beware, it's being bid at a whopping $7,000. Lynch's experimental and eerie choices weren't just reflected in his films but also in his music. Having scored most of his films, Lynch avidly recorded solo music and championed other musicians as well, be it Otis Redding or Lana Del Rey. So, it comes as little surprise that he also had an in-home music studio (aptly called Asymmetrical Music Studio), the relics of which are a part of the ongoing auction. These include a five-necked guitar (current bid at $7,000) that goes well with Lynch's unorthodox musical styles. Another highly prized possession is a sleek 1997 Parker Fly guitar with a sleek metallic black finish (current bid at $10,000). Other items include guitar pedals, synths, and even a bright blue ukulele. When it came to Lynch's book collection, the man had plenty of classic paperbacks, photography books, woodworking manuals, and some collections of nude and erotica art. A specific section is also devoted to his spiritual reads, owing to his long-time fascination with transcendental meditation. Books on Tibetan Buddhism, titles by spiritualist Deepak Chopra, and 'The Complete Book of Yogic Flying,' that kind of stuff. The auteur's many diverse interests in film, music, and spirituality are evident in the collection, but some items also reflect that he was a man very much like us. At $500, you can amass Lynch's collection of boardgames, including usual favourites like Scrabble and a 1000-piece jigsaw. A lunchbox full of nostalgia-inducing trinkets like a diecast car and a spinning top is also currently being bid at $1,250. And perhaps what made Lynch the most relatable to us mere non-Lynchian mortals was his love for a cup of Joe. Coffee is a recurring theme in the collection, which makes sense given how Lynch once told VICE that he finds 'a good friend' in a cup of coffee. Up for sale are commercial espresso grinders and home coffee machines, along with numerous Twin Peaks-themed coffee mugs. Which auction items are affordable for the average David Lynch fan? Hate to break it to you folks; nothing is worth a Coke and some cookies in the David Lynch Collection. Currently, the lowest bid goes to $300, which can get you an unappealing 'EcoloBlue Atmosphere Water Generator'. Add a hundred dollars more and you can get some light stands with carrying cases. The board games, a set of guitar amplifiers, and an exercise bike all go under the bid for $500 each. Seemingly plain dinner plates at $600; you get the rest. When is the auction happening? Online bids are already live, with the auction scheduled for June 18, 2025 at 10am PST at Los Angeles.
Yahoo
19-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
‘Die, My Love' Review: Jennifer Lawrence Spirals Into Psychosis While Robert Pattinson Plunges Into Despair in Lynne Ramsay's Jarring Character Study
Lynne Ramsay has never shown much interest in making films that are easy to digest, her hard-edged psychological dramas refusing to offer comfort or provide tidy answers for the messy questions arising out of her characters' upended lives. The uncompromising Scottish director has not gone soft in her jagged fifth feature, Die My Love. Giving a no-holds-barred performance that careens between disturbed reality and disturbing fantasy, blurring any dividing lines that separate them, Jennifer Lawrence plays a woman transplanted to the wide-open spaces of rural America, where marriage, motherhood and domesticity close in on her, chipping away at her sanity. While screenwriters Enda Walsh, Ramsay and Alice Burch relocate Argentine writer Ariana Harwicz's Lynchian 2012 debut novel from the French countryside, they stay true to its piercing focus on a woman battling her demons in a state of increasingly feverish isolation — whether she's alone or in a room full of people. More from The Hollywood Reporter Sissy Spacek Shares 'Carrie' Audition Doubts at Spirited 'Awards Chatter' Podcast Taping in Cannes 'The Phoenician Scheme' Review: A Brilliant Benicio del Toro Leads Wes Anderson's Poignant Narrative Jigsaw Puzzle 'Peak Everything' Director on Getting Personal With Dark Romantic Comedy to "Save Myself" Lawrence stars opposite Robert Pattinson as Grace and Jackson, a couple making a big change from New York to an unnamed spot nestled among tall trees and prairie grasslands. His family comes from the area and his mother, Pam (Sissy Spacek), and dotty father, Henry (Nick Nolte), still live nearby. Jackson has inherited a spacious, weather-beaten house from his uncle, who committed suicide in an unusual way that makes no sense and has zero bearing on the story. Working in the boxy 4:3 aspect ratio, cinematographer Seamus McGarvey (who was DP on Ramsay's We Need To Talk About Kevin) films the opening in a striking fixed-camera medium-wide shot as the couple first arrives at the house, walking in and out of the frame while entering and exiting different rooms. Jackson tells Grace there's no neighbors close by, so she can blast music as loud as she wants. Which she does, getting them both worked up to the point where they start boning on the floor. It's established from the start that Grace's appetite for sex is gargantuan. But by the time their baby boy arrives, the couple's passion in their union already appears to have been turned down a few degrees. This doesn't sit well with Grace, who prowls around the yard on all fours like a panther and then flops on her back and shoves a hand down her pants while shooting a bored look at Jackson and their son on the porch. She ignores the housework and starts having sexual fantasies — or are they real? — about a hot biker (an underused LaKeith Stanfield) who keeps roaring by the house, sometimes circling back to get another look at her. Ramsay shuffles the chronology for no good reason, jumping from after the baby's birth back to Grace's pregnancy (I'm sure I won't be the only one thinking she's expecting a second child). Pam, along with Jackson's talkative aunts, pays a visit and they sit around clucking about motherhood. Grace doesn't even feign interest, but she's sweet and patient with Harry, who drifts in and out of lucidity. A thread about Pam sleepwalking, like many threads here, goes nowhere. The first hour or so of the distended film is a bit of a trudge as Grace's behavior grows increasingly erratic and she becomes convinced Jackson is screwing around while he's away at work. Her general dissatisfaction is obvious in her rudeness to a chatty convenience store cashier and to women at a party, where she embarrasses Jackson by throwing off her clothes in the living room and then jumping into a pool full of kids in her skimpy underwear. Pam tries reassuring her: 'Everyone goes a little loopy in the first year after a baby.' But hurling herself through a glass door or smashing up the bathroom goes way beyond loopy. Early on, Jackson attempts to lighten the mood by bringing home a dog, which turns out to be a bad idea when it's incessantly yappy and whiny and Grace has access to a shotgun. Jackson tries talking to her in the car to figure out what's wrong and she causes an accident. Later, she informs him it's been two-and-a-half months since they had sex and then gets verbally abusive when he fails to perform on command. Postpartum depression keeps coming up, and that's likely what triggered Grace's psychosexual breakdown. But her connection to the baby seems fine. It's the fraying connection to her husband that's the problem. Lawrence certainly goes for it in a physically demanding role and she's always a dynamic presence. But Ramsay's fondness for abrasive characters and her complete aversion to sentimentality, while admirable qualities in a filmography known for shaking up the quotidian with shock and horror, keep Grace at a distance. She's a wild animal in a trap, and watching her snarl or claw at the walls or masturbate can only be interesting for so long. It's easier to feel something for Jackson, played by Pattinson with sensitivity and a touching spirit of forgiveness as he slides into despair. Asking Grace to marry him when she's at her batshit craziest — truly a WTF? move — is an even bigger mistake than the dog, given that drunken weddings tend to make people shed their inhibitions. Or whatever Grace has left of them. A stay in a mental health facility — while it doesn't fix Grace, who's mostly just acting the part of the happy wife and mother — rescues the movie from being one long, taxing bipolar episode. A joyful scene in which Grace and Jackson sing along to David Bowie's 'Kooks' in the car serves as a reminder that there's a couple who really do love each other behind the strained union. Not for nothing does Ramsay herself sing Joy Division's 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' over the end credits. Regardless of the film's flaws — some of which might be due to it being rushed through the final stages of post to make the Cannes deadline — the closing stretch has a retroactive effect on everything that's come before. It transforms Die My Love (the movie loses the comma in the novel's title) from a self-destructive solo show to a thoughtful examination of a complex relationship and all the patience and understanding it requires. Right before the end, an image of a forest fire seen briefly at the start returns in a more expansive way, showing one partner willing to go to any extreme to feel the freedom she craves and the other partner finally seeing her unruly desires and realizing he must make space for them. Ramsay's film is hard to love, but that beautiful visual casts such an intense glow it pulls the whole unwieldy thing together. Best of The Hollywood Reporter 'The Goonies' Cast, Then and Now "A Nutless Monkey Could Do Your Job": From Abusive to Angst-Ridden, 16 Memorable Studio Exec Portrayals in Film and TV The 10 Best Baseball Movies of All Time, Ranked
France 24
09-05-2025
- Entertainment
- France 24
Ready-to-wear, fall-winter 2025: The art of always being right
06:00 Issued on: 06:00 min From the show To create a fashion collection, you need three key elements: silhouette, colour, material – be it for clothes or accessories. Yet these ingredients are lifeless without the discourse and the incredible stories that transform them into objects of desire. Stories told with sincerity, from Marine Serre's Lynchian ambitions to Lilia Litkovska's resolve to work while the bombs are falling; Fashion Week's top prize goes to Yohji Yamamoto for his flights of fancy.
Nahar Net
12-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Nahar Net
Fashion trends for fall: Big shoulders, even bigger coats and a color story to dye for
by Naharnet Newsdesk 12 March 2025, 15:21 Paris has spoken, and fashion's final authority has laid down the law: This coming fall, it's all about power shoulders, enveloping outerwear and a color palette that runs from somber to surreal. If Milan softened up with romance and New York leaned into Y2K grunge, Paris countered with sartorial surety — a wardrobe built for the sharp, the serious, and the spectacular. Coats are enormous, tailoring is back and drama is dialed up on every front. While trends may start in luxury, they quickly trickle down, as fast fashion companies like Zara, H&M, and Shein race to transform runway spectacle into mass-market hits. Here's what ruled the runways: Coats so big, they might eat you If you thought last season's outerwear was oversized, Paris just laughed in your face. This season, coats aren't just big — they're monstrous. At Louis Vuitton, Nicolas Ghesquière sent out blanket coats with pannier-like hips, reminiscent of 19th-century railway travelers layering for the journey ahead. Meanwhile, Balenciaga's Demna reined in the theatrics to focus on pure, sculptural volume: wool coats, puffer-gown hybrids, and structured trenches that redefined silhouette without gimmicks. Marine Serre, ever the sustainable innovator, crafted oversized outerwear from upcycled materials, proving excess and ethics can coexist. Shoulders wide enough to rival a Renaissance painting Power shoulders are back, and they mean business. At Givenchy, Sarah Burton's debut delivered tailored coats with razor-sharp shoulders, softened only by impeccable drape. Victoria Beckham exaggerated the shoulder line on evening silhouettes, creating a statuesque effect. Loewe's Jonathan Anderson played with distorted proportions, adding surrealist twists to a commanding frame. And at Saint Laurent, Anthony Vaccarello took the idea to its purest form, distilling power into sculpted, precise shoulders that framed every silhouette like armor. The message? Whether you're in a power suit or a party dress, take up space. Red, black and blue Color took a turn for the cinematic this season. Valentino's Alessandro Michele bathed his collection in deep, bloody red, reinforcing its intensity with a show set in a Lynchian restroom. Meanwhile, Akris explored blue — midnight, cobalt, and cerulean dominated a collection that felt like a meditative study on fabric and light. Balenciaga presented black as a statement rather than a default, stripping away excess and letting the depth of the shade do the talking. The takeaway? Monochrome dressing is in, but it's not minimal. Logos are out A quiet revolution in high fashion: the return of discreet, considered luxury. No screaming logos, no gimmicky hype — just clothes so well-made they speak for themselves. At Dior, Maria Grazia Chiuri reworked historical silhouettes into supremely wearable tailoring, proving craftsmanship is the ultimate flex. An uncharacteristically restrained collection at Rick Owens focused on impeccable construction: bomber jackets lined with leather, laser-cut leather shorts mimicking chainmail, and hoodies made of natural rubber that moved like liquid. This is luxury for those who know. Tech meets couture Tech-infused fashion isn't new, but Coperni took it further with a runway staged as a '90s LAN party, complete with gaming influencers live-streaming the show. The collection borrowed from cyberculture, with Tamagotchi-shaped bags, futuristic fabrics and anime-inspired styling. Louis Vuitton collaborated with Kraftwerk on a limited-edition capsule inspired by Trans-Europe Express, blending heritage travel motifs with futuristic detailing. Even Balenciaga got in on the game, crafting couture-worthy sportswear in collaboration with Puma. The message? The future is interactive. Femininity stripped naked This season, femininity wasn't soft — it was bold, aggressive and unapologetically exposed. Designers stripped it back to its rawest form, literally in some cases. Rick Owens put models in structured outerwear, but left their chests bare, reinforcing a vision of sensual strength. At Givenchy, sheer knit catsuits left little to the imagination, countered by razor-sharp tailoring. Valentino's fever dream pushed sensuality further, with plunging necklines, sheer lace and corseted waists that oozed eroticism. The theme mirrored the naked dress takeover at the Oscars days earlier, where sheer, body-revealing gowns dominated the red carpet. But where Hollywood leaned ethereal, Paris went tougher — sheer fabrics paired with armor-like corsetry, exposed skin framed by rigid tailoring. At Chloé, aristocratic silhouettes became sensual with transparency, suggesting that power and vulnerability can — and should — coexist. The message? Femininity, stripped of fragility, dressed for battle. Final verdict: Paris sets the agenda The last of the fashion capitals to show, Paris always has the final, snooty say on what's hot and what's not. And this season, the message was clear: go big, be bold, and invest in pieces that actually matter. Whether it's the presence of a power coat, the strength of a structured shoulder, or the quiet confidence of truly luxurious fabric, the best collections weren't about trends — they were about statements. And in a world that feels increasingly uncertain, that kind of sartorial confidence is exactly what we need.
