It really unequivocally embeds itself into every element of your day. And depending on who we are and how we’re moving through space, that can become oppressively clear or something that one has the privilege to forget. I was so dependent on my family members, and they were so rock solid that I got to college and felt like I was without oxygen for the first time. Elsewhere, a group of men, visually coded as old-school stoner types, drive around ready to raise hell, which also doesn’t come to pass. And as Max, Hammer communicates a kind of stolid and unintelligent glumness that makes it difficult to comprehend how Mrs. de Winter could ignore so many warning signs of deep depression and anger. But I think what I wanted to say was that going to your second home, it’s kind of the most selfish time of your life. Yolanda (Fenessa Pineda) is brainy and shy; Mari (Venecia Troncoso), the sullen new girl in school, has a take-no-shit swagger that hides a wounded soul. Guerrero's handling of the bond between these two teens feels too coy by half; the film thankfully resists being either a typical coming-out movie or an ethnocultural curio, but it doesn't offer much insight into the twosome's attraction, platonic or otherwise, to each other. Get the freshest reviews, news, and more delivered right to your inbox! I say really nice things about it, but I just didn’t want any kind of legal thing to get in the way. © 2020 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. And Shithouse is very comfortable with not being seen by a lot of people, it just comes across that way. Part of the success of this is due to Guerroro’s decision to eschew any acknowledgment, or labeling, of the nature of the girls’ relationship by other characters—and the girls themselves don’t even acknowledge that their feelings for each other might be taboo within their community. Guerrero's quietly told and observant feature has ragtag realism on its sleeve, but unfortunately doesn't manage to assert itself as memorable. Directed by Aurora Guerrero. It sucks that it didn’t premiere at SXSW, but I wasn’t expecting much. But I will say that as a writer—I think I realized this recently because I’ve been writing a ton again—it does make me a better person. I think what I wanted to say about college was that it’s the first time for me without a safety net. Duane Byrge I think I always enter a project first from the personal. I loved the local feel to the film which kept it grounded and I loved how Yolanda and Mari's relationship unfolds over time. It’s really tricky because I think there’s a story that the character is so close to me, but it’s really not. The thesis of 28 Weeks Later is that the War on Terror is ultimately a self-destructive one for all concerned, from the bullying authority figures to the demoralized combat soldiers to the fractured family units. Privacy | Ever since audiences ran screaming from the premiere of Auguste and Louis Lumière’s 1895 short black-and-white silent documentary Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat, the histories of filmgoing and horror have been inextricably intertwined. I don’t go to a script saying, “I have to figure this shit out.” But I am realizing that it does inform my life in the biggest way, where I didn’t think that before. It’s also yet another allusion, this time to Alain Resnais and Dušan Makavejev, who are perhaps the two European filmmakers most devoted to reckoning with manmade catastrophe through montage and the carnivalesque, which are von Trier’s chosen aesthetic modes here. I’m having these Zoom meetings with [people asking] like, “What do you want to do?” I have these ideas, and I have literally scripts where I’m like, “Here’s what I want to do.” The reaction is always, “That’s small.” And I’m like, “Yeah, it’s small!” I don’t think I’ll make a big leap after this at all. But there’s a gravitas to Dating Amber that keeps pricking us little by little until it completely takes over in the film. By the time the climax rolls into view, the film abandons any seriousness, even bringing in Lena Waithe, as the host of one of Culture’s newly canceled shows, to make a Friday the 13th reference while snarking about the horror-movie proceedings. Nick Schager, In The Strangers, Bryan Bertino exhibited a masterfully lush style that owed quite a bit to the elegant camera pirouettes of John Carpenter. But then, the film’s interiors are so bare that at times they almost resemble Robert Bresson’s alienated cinematic spaces; its urban exteriors are so strangely devoid of life that their deadness recalls midcentury existentialism, as if this were Taken by Beckett. It’s an attractive and fairly shallow bauble of a thing that ticks off the story’s shock revelations in an efficient, if not particularly surprising, fashion.