Zama is about waiting— not the Waiting for Godot or Guffman kind— but the Colonial kind, which is historical, eloquently long and wonderfully filmed, cryptically acted and so broadly elliptical that it could mean anything while seemingly meaning everything. The kind that is either literary fraud or masterwork.
Summer 1993 feels lived in, breathed, authentic but never nostalgic. There is not a lot of drama but plenty of life on display.
Revenge is a hallucinogenic yellow neon female empowerment tale perfect for the #metoo era.
There is no explanation, no backstory just observation enshrouded in mythic layers of beautiful cinematography. Everything is left to interpretation, which is both besides the point and probably is the point.
King of Peking (streaming on Netflix) proves that the best buddy films are created by fathers and sons.
It is all so emotionally and nakedly obvious. And that not only makes Sunday’s Illness good but near great.