Review: It takes nearly 7 years for Eli Craig, writer-director of the 2010 horror-comedy sensation, Tucker & Dale vs. Evil, to finally spawn a Netflix-produced sophomore project entitled Little Evil. Similar to what he’s done in his previous feature, Craig once again plays out with horror clichés and extracts a fresh spoof, which would test and tease audience’s references with clear-cut hilarity.
In Little Evil, Eli Craig spoofs clichés from spooky-kid films, incorporating tropes from Rosemary’s Baby and, most obviously, The Omen. Simply look at the poster and you’ll see the alleged prodigal son (striking a pose like Damien in Omen) taking up the axis between his biological mother, Samantha (Evangeline Lilly) and his stepfather, Gary (Adam Scott). That kid (portrayed by Owen Atlas) is, as the title might suggest, the little evil—the spooky kid in Eli Craig’s horror-comedy.
CONTINUE READING THIS REVIEW IN ENGLISH!
Review: So, why bother remaking a story that feels Japan through and through in a same old brand new American setting? Or, why bother retelling a story that might venture well in nowadays internet-advanced world in a world which feels no different to early internet day? Why bother remaking Death Note in an all-American high school drama?
Those questions keep linger in my head while I watched Adam Wingard’s Death Note, an Americanized version of Japanese manga series written by Tsugumi Oba and Takeshi Obata. In presenting this story, Wingard (The Guest, You’re Next) keeps trying to impress audiences with his eye for stylish visual violence. Without ever losing his touch, there’s practically nothing wrong with the directorial effort; but, judging from the director’s adamant persistence in making the film and the end-results, there lies a much bigger question: is this all Adam Wingard’s vision to Death Note?
Continue reading the review in English!
Review: Netflix’ GLOW is a splendid blend of many things—from campy female wrestling, satire to telly industry, feminism spirit and rage against racial stereotypes—that work fascinatingly. Presented as a period piece which sees L.A. circa 1985, the show radicalizes the era’s fascination towards glazing neon and devotion to day-time soap opera, then mixes them together in an exhilarating, vibrant ‘fake-sport’ drama.
In GLOW, a struggling actress, Ruth Wilder (Alison Brie) is disheartened upon finding out that the industry has suppressed female roles to the brink of marginalization. When she encounters a desperate B-movie director, Sam Sylvia (Marc Maron)—who develops ‘The Gorgeous Lady of Wrestling’ a.k.a. GLOW for a TV channel, she surprisingly finds an absurdly empowering opportunity. From there, the line between pro-wrestling and soap opera begins to blur; and a road to stardom emerges. Continue reading A Season with: GLOW (2017) – Season 1
Review: Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt returns elegantly in aftermath of the second season’s ultimate cliffhanger and sees our titular powerhouse, Kimberly ‘Kimmy’ Schmidt (Ellie Kemper), grown into a more empathetically, complex protagonist. While the cult captive PTSD theme is still revisited for once or twice, season three witnesses Kimmy arises above the ground, literally leaves the underground bunker, and gets integrated into a real world problem of empowerment and feminism.
At first, Kimmy’s got to do something to clinch the cliffhanger, where Reverend Richard Wayne Gary Wayne (Jon Hamm) demands a divorce; then, she’s going to college for education and, eventually, career; later, she’s learning something about herself that makes her different from other people. At the same time, creators Tina Fey and Robert Carlock insert insightful quests for other characters to deal with, which take roots from their deeds in the second season; and make them a more integral part of the storytelling. Continue reading A Season with: Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (2017) – Season 3
Review: Taking full resilient force from Justin Simien’s 2014 indie-hit, Dear White People, Netflix’s Dear White People reuses the same force to launch this 10-episode of witty comedy into this year’s most thought-provoking spectacle. This works as an extension of the infamous black-themed white-people party in the feature film, although it starts off with effective reimagining of it; but, it transcends mostly as the aftermath with counter-racism and cross-cultural conversation at its heart.
Set in a fictional Ivy League university, Winchester College, Dear White People follows a tribe of black students living in all-black dorm named Armstrong-Parker house. If the film version combines multiple characters’ arcs in a full-frontal riot, the series presents the story differently. Each pivotal character gets a full 30-minute episode arc in exercising the doomed party’s aftermath. Continue reading A Season with: Dear White People (2017) – Season 1
Review: A teenage girl, Hannah Baker (Katherine Langford) committed suicide. Instead of leaving suicide notes, she left seven double-sided cassette tapes – in which she stated a reason and tagged a person ‘responsible’ for her demise in each side of the tape but one; hence, 13 Reasons Why. Ever since the first episode, the show is narrated by a dead girl pointing out who share the responsibility of killing her, as listened by a clumsy school boy, Clay Jensen (Dylan Minnette), who is eager to find out his school’s dirty little secrets.
This series is adapted from Jay Asher’s best-selling young-adult fiction which defies the convention of YA tropes. As much as it is accessible and binge-worthy, this somber, grim teen-angst ridden series is surprisingly taut and thought-provoking, despite revolving around coming-of-age tropes. So, here’s 13 points compiled to review 13 Reasons Why. Continue reading A Season with: 13 Reasons Why (2017)