《我們不是什麼》短評

對殘酷社會現實的控訴

《我們不是什麼》告訴觀眾：恐怖襲擊不是一朝一夕的事，襲擊者面對的家庭、社會和生活問題，就像滾雪球一樣，越滾越大，最後一發不可收拾。影片內陳明熙(陳毅燊飾)因同性戀而被父親歧視，在無法忍耐下，唯有離家出走。莊耀暉(Anson Kong飾)從小開始就被父親性侵犯，導致他心理不平衡，最後唯有殺掉父親，才可使自己釋懷。無可否認，他倆都是社會中的基層人物，低學歷、欠缺專業技能、家庭經濟背景欠佳，他們被旁人瞧不起，遑論有機會步向成功。明熙唯一能認同自己和抒發個人感受的方法，就是把自己喜歡的人和物畫出來，本來可靠賣畫維生，可惜懷才不遇，懂得欣賞他的作品的知音者，只有耀暉。因此，明熙與耀暉同是天涯淪落人，在「圍爐取暖」後，當走至絕路，唯一「解決」問題的方法，就只有自殺式恐怖襲擊。

導演兼編劇邱禮濤刻意以梁浩龍(譚耀文飾)與明熙及耀暉作對比，浩龍在擔任警隊鑑證專家時曾遇上挫折，被發覺在賣淫場所內購買同性的性服務後，由於警隊高層擔心他破壞警方的形象，遂強迫他提早退休。他本來想製造炸彈進行自殺式襲擊，但後來在他的太太(彭秀慧飾)的原諒和關顧下，他終放下此念頭，並讓自己的人生重回正軌。其實浩龍是明熙及耀暉的「前身」，明熙及耀暉因情緒的過度壓抑、找不到解決問題的方法而走向極端，浩龍面對相似的情緒問題，導致他的心理不平衡，幸好他身旁有一位具有正面人生觀和價值觀的太太，使他得以獲得「解脫」。因此，身旁的人對當事人的影響很大，如果他不曾遇上她，可能發動恐怖襲擊者是他，比明熙及耀暉還早，他可能造成的禍害比他倆更大，因為他是炸彈專家，製造的炸彈的威力令人難以想像。

由此可見，香港政府要針對性地解決恐怖襲擊問題，除了保安的相關部門出力外，反歧視、社福及經濟等相關部門都要出一分力。因為問題並非一朝一夕地出現，多種問題長年累月地累積起來，終衍生前所未有的嚴重問題，倘若上述的家庭、歧視及經濟問題獲得解決，恐怖襲擊根本不會發生。故政府在解決問題的過程中，除了堵塞保安漏洞外，其實應追本溯源，多著力解決根本性的問題，只有這樣，整個社會才會更和諧，普羅大眾的幸福感才可有所提升，一般市民才會真切地感受社會發展及民生改善帶來的好處，恐怖襲擊才可從此絕跡。

Beyond the Explosion: Herman Yau’s We’re Nothing at All

Herman Yau Lai To’s We’re Nothing at All, which will be premiered at the upcoming Hong Kong International Film Festival, is far more than its Cat.III rating suggests. While opening with a shocking bus explosion on Valentine’s Day, it evolves into a poignant social commentary and one of Yau’s most stylish and compelling works.

Yau, known for oscillating between action thrillers like the Shock Wave series and socially conscious dramas, here delivers a slow-burn mystery that borrows narrative complexity from his best films. Unlike his more straightforward action fare, this film uses a non-linear structure, weaving flashbacks of two young victims’ lives with the forward-moving police investigation. This technique transforms a whodunit into a profound exploration of why, turning public catastrophe into an intimate portrait of private despair.

This ambition is matched by remarkable style. Compared to the documentary-like grit of his earlier “Category III” films, We’re Nothing at All is drenched in melancholic atmosphere. The cramped subdivided flats, cold police offices, and warmly-lit memories of young romance are captured with keen visual sense—elevating the material beyond simple exploitation into something artistically ambitious.

At its core, the film tackles homosexuality, a subject that remains delicate in Hong Kong cinema. While the territory has produced acclaimed queer films, this one distinguishes itself by focusing not on the romance itself, but on the societal neglect that consumes it. The tragedy isn’t the boys’ love, but the world’s failure to acknowledge it. In a society that renders them “nothing at all,” their desperate act becomes a tragic final statement.

The young leads playing the doomed lovers deliver raw, heartbreaking performances, conveying vulnerable intensity that grounds the film’s stylish direction in authentic human emotion. Patrick Tam matches them magnificently as Lung, the recalled forensic expert. His understated performance conveys a haunted past through subtle expressions, with the film hinting at his own bisexuality—adding profound depth as he investigates not just a case, but a mirror of what his life could have become. His presence bridges the film’s two worlds: cold police procedure and passionate doomed intimacy.

The Cat.III rating, earned through unflinching depictions of desperation and violence, serves not as sensationalism but as reflection of the brutal realities these characters face.

In We’re Nothing at All, Yau delivers a haunting elegy for the marginalised. It uses a thriller framework to ask uncomfortable questions about collective responsibility, reminding us through its tragic young lovers that when society fails its most vulnerable, everyone bears blame.

Elven Ho

Ready or Not 2 – A Bloody, Brainless, and Blast of a Good Time

The 2019 original Ready or Not was a perfectly constructed little grenade of a movie. It was tight, vicious, and ended with such a definitive, fiery bang that a sequel felt not just unnecessary, but almost sacrilegious. So, does Ready or Not 2 justify its existence? Barely. But in the grand tradition of sequels that shouldn’t work, this one manages to scrape by on sheer, unhinged charisma.

Let’s be clear: this is a film that defies logic. The first act goes through themotions to resurrect Samara Weaving’s Grace—because you can’t have Ready or Not without its secret weapon—and brings her estranged sister (a perfectly cast Melanie Newton) into the fold. The narrative justification is flimsy at best, but the real draw is the dynamic. Weaving is, as always, hysteriously good, channeling a feral, screeching energy that feels like a live-action cartoon character. Newton matches her beat for beat, providing a grounded snark that makes the sisterly chemistry a genuinely fun mix.

If you’re looking for tension, however, you’ve come to the wrong place. Ready or Not 2 has no interest in suspense. It operates on a simple, unspoken contract with the audience: nothing is going to happen to Weaving or Newton. The two leads are beaten, stabbed, thrown through walls, and generally pulverized to a pulp across the film’s runtime. Yet, in classic cartoon logic, their faces remain pristine. Hardly a bruise mars their features at the end of the film. It’s a level of plot armour usually reserved for Wile E. Coyote’s victims, and the film knows it.

This isn’t a horror movie; it’s a horror cartoon. The violence is so over-the-top and the stakes are so clearly nonexistent that the audience is free to do one thing: laugh. And laugh they do. The film’s biggest asset is its willingness to be absurd. There is a particular joy in watching the supporting cast of wealthy, entitled antagonists get dispatched in increasingly ridiculous ways. People in the screening I attended were howling with laughter every time a body got blown away, treating the gore less like a shock and more like a punchline.

The sequel’s structure is essentially a rollercoaster ride between horror set pieces. It ditches the original’s tense, claustrophobic mansion crawl for a series of elaborate, often silly, action sequences. It’s a film that demands you check your brain at the door. If you start asking questions about the lore, the logistics of the Le Domas family’s continued existence, or how two women can survive a three-story fall without a scratch, the whole thing falls apart.

Ready or Not 2 barely breaks the dreaded sequel curse. It lacks the sharp social satire and the nail-biting tightness of the first film. But what it lacks in substance, it makes up for in chaotic, unapologetic entertainment. It’s a bloody, brainless good time—a slasher flick with the emotional weight of a Looney Tunes short. If you’re willing to turn off your critical faculties and simply enjoy watching two charismatic leads blast their way through a cartoonish nightmare, you’ll have a blast. Just don’t expect to remember the plot five minutes after the credits roll.

Elven Ho

《殺死你》短評

CULT至極致？

無可否認，《殺死你》取材自《奪命狂呼》系列及《爆血新婚夜》，以血腥暴力為賣點，把CULT片古怪血腥的特質發揮至極致。影片内追殺場面多不勝數，把《爆》的殺戮鏡頭推向極端，斷手斷脚的血腥畫面必不可少，肢體橫飛的鏡頭亦充滿卡通式的「喜劇效果」。當觀衆看見荒謬絕倫的爆血畫面時，由於這些畫面不會在現實生活中出現，鏡頭帶來的官能刺激顯得虛假，我們便會覺得鏡頭誇張而具「剝削性」，特別在鋒利的長刀斬斷手脚的畫面内，傷口平滑，我們一看便知道這些手脚是肢體模型。其欠缺真實感的鏡頭確實容易使我們「出戲」，原本驚嚇恐怖的畫面竟使我們捧腹大笑，或許這是影片創作人始料不及的觀衆反應，但這卻表現了我們最真實的情緒感受。

此外，《殺》的創作人亦花了不少篇幅解釋追殺場面出現的緣由，比《奪7》内兇手欠缺充分理由殺人的編排恰當，證明《殺》深思熟慮地道出邪教橫行與追殺場面千絲萬縷的關係，比《奪7》内「無厘頭」殺人的設計高明，亦比個人的恩怨情仇有更具説服力的因果關係。或許《殺》的編劇兼導演基里爾·索科洛夫希望影片内殘暴追殺的畫面有一定的可信性，故刻意安排了一些閃回鏡頭，道出年輕女子被追殺的原因，以及她決心救出妹妹的理由，讓觀衆沉醉於血腥畫面之餘，還關注普通人容易被迷惑而順服於邪惡勢力的因由。創作人刻意為影片加添神秘感，避免此片淪落爲只重官能刺激的商品，盡量令電影與社會產生聯繫，並希望給予我們一點點思考的空間。

《殺》成功在九十多分鐘内給予觀衆「爽」的感覺，當我們看著影片内年輕女子過關斬將、殺出重圍時，就像我們正在玩遊戲，過完一關又一關，取得勝利後，終會獲得一種難以言喻的快感。或許看電影像打機一樣，當我們打贏「大佬」後，會有「煥然一新」的感覺，因爲我們完成了一次具挑戰性的任務，讓我們得到前所未有的滿足感，這種感覺不容易被遺忘，亦不輕易被取締。這就像我們剛剛學懂如何駕駛，至最後可以到外地開車，並享受自由駕駛的樂趣，這種成功「過關」帶來的成就感，讓我們樂於把自己想像為影片中的「女鬥士」，闖入「虎穴」後逃出生天。她的成功顯然令我們在「超現實」世界内想成爲她，因爲我們在幻想國度内模仿她快刀斬亂體（肢體）的英姿，即使焦頭爛額、滿身傷痕，最後仍然能夠克服困難，安全過關，並滿足於完成所有任務所帶來的成就感。

《重擊人生》短評

面對失敗的勇氣

運動員在成功得意時自吹自擂，本來無可厚非，但像《重擊人生》內馬克·柯爾(巨石強森飾)一樣，向記者說自己從來不會失敗，遑論會懂得分享自己如何面對失敗，這種不可一世的狂妄自大，注定他在真正面對失敗時不懂再「爬起來」。可能他正在自欺欺人，以一剎那的成功「麻醉」自己，希望自己永遠成功，但其後他不幸經歷失敗，終不能接受自己，並以毒品為自己的麻醉劑。他的女朋友道恩·史泰普斯(艾蜜莉·布朗飾)即使與他時有口角，仍舊願意成為他的後盾，永遠支持他，不論他得意還是失意，她永遠在他背後，從來不會在他失意時離他而去。因此，導演兼編劇班尼·沙夫戴在《重》內用了不少篇幅描寫她在他生命中的角色，從他的事業以外的另一角度折射他的人生，讓這部「另類」的傳記電影得以多角度地刻劃他的生命，與譁眾取寵的主流荷里活傳記片截然不同。

很明顯，《重》的導演不會聚焦於摔角運動的緊張感和刺激感，因為他拍攝此片的目的不是為了搞「運動明星崇拜」，亦不是為了宣揚摔角運動，而是真心真意地呈現柯爾一開始不平凡，至最後終回歸平淡的生命。或許《重》不像其他主流荷里活傳記片重視「起跌不一」的生命的戲劇性，亦不像部分商業性的傳記片過度渲染勝利成功的一刻，只樸實地描寫男主角從不承認失敗至學懂面對失敗的過程，曾經歷痛苦、悲傷和失意，貼近現實世界中正常運動員的經歷，因為真實國度內運動員不可能取得永遠的勝利，當我們看著他們獲取冠軍時，其實他們之前已曾經歷無數次的失敗。因此，《重》的導演強調生活的真實性，本來在擂台上的柯爾於離開擂台後，會到超級市場買東西，會與女朋友一起拍拖逛街，或許生活的本質就是平凡，以前「被神化」的柯爾都會有平凡的一剎那，這實屬正常。

由此可見，《重》的可貴之處，在於其貼近現實的質感。假惺惺的自我陶醉及光輝燦爛的勝利可能振奮人心，但赤裸的失敗和深層的焦慮卻道出運動員不得不面對的心理壓力。常說心理質素是運動員能否持續努力的重要元素，《重》正好述說柯爾在失敗過後，如何在女朋友的支持下，逐步改善自己的心理素質。或許面對失敗的勇氣就是每一位運動員必須學習的課題，未退役前的柯爾需要學會，其他現正不斷努力的運動員亦不例外，因為在失敗後「爬起來」是每一位運動員日後再次取得勝利的關鍵因素。

曉龍

Night King: A Polished, Crowd-Pleasing Ode to Old-School Hong Kong Loyalty

The dim sum of Hong Kong cinema often comes in familiar molds, but every so often, a film arrives that wraps a surprisingly warm heart in a flashy, commercial package. Night King is exactly that. Starring the incomparable Dayo Wong and Sammi Cheng, this chamber drama-comedy set in the twilight of Hong Kong’s nightclub era is not just one of the best films of the year—it’s a masterclass in how to make a crowd-pleaser without selling out your soul.

At its core, Night King is a love letter to a bygone era. The plot follows the besieged “Eastern Sun” nightclub, managed by the loyal and slippery “Brother Fun” (Wong), whose ex-wife “V” (Cheng) is sent in to save it from a corporate takeover. What could have been a sleazy exposé is instead treated with the intimacy of a stage play. The film unfolds largely in the club’s backrooms and hallways, relying on rapid-fire dialogue and character interaction rather than flashy set pieces. Director Kelvin Wu (making a strong follow-up to A Guilty Conscience) resists the temptation to wallow in the darker side of the industry. There’s no exploitative focus on sex work or gigolos; instead, we see this as a place of business—a “gray area” workplace where the rules are simply different, not inherently evil .

What elevates Night King from good to great is its script. In a genre historically known for either melodramatic suffering or soft-core spectacle—think of the gritty misery of The Modern Girl or the pure exploitation of To Please Her—this film gives its supporting cast moments to truly shine .

Dayo Wong (Brother Fun) is the anchor. Wong brings his signature blend of intellectual cynicism and streetwise charm. He’s not a hero; he’s a manager who believes his job is to buy the staff “dignity.” His physical comedy and deadpan delivery are perfect, but it’s his vulnerability in the quieter, “stage-play” moments with Sammi Cheng that resonate

Sammi Cheng (V) initially appears as the cold, corporate foil to Fun’s old-school loyalty. But Cheng masterfully reveals the exhaustion behind the tough facade. While some critics noted her arc fades slightly in the third act, her chemistry with Wong provides the film’s emotional spine .

Louise Wong (Coco) is the breakout star. As the top hostess, she gets the film’s most defiant line when she rejects a wealthy heir: “You are the heir of Muse Group, but I am Coco of Eastern Sun!” It’s a declaration of self-worth that turns a potential damsel-in-distress into a true “jianghu” heroine .

Malaysian Chinese actress Fish Liew (Mimi) in a quieter, heartbreaking turn, plays a hostess with a long-standing crush on Fun. The visual of her repeatedly dropping earrings for him to pick up—earrings he never keeps—is a poetic, tragic detail that lingers long after the credits roll .

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The rest of supporting cast delivers scene-stealing work. Yang Weilun (Michael Ning) , playing Fun’s endlessly adaptable sidekick “Turtle,” provides some of the film’s sharpest comic relief—his ability to switch allegiance mid-conversation with the speed of a workplace survivalist is a running gag that never wears thin. On the opposite end, Tse Kwan-ho brings a menacing gravitas to the villain “Mr. Yiu,” a billionaire whose obsession with a past love turns him into a surprisingly tragic antagonist; he’s given just enough screen time to avoid cartoonishness, grounding the corporate threat in genuine pathos.

Rounding out the antagonist camp is Michael Tong as Mr. Yiu’s ambitious son, Derek. With slicked-back hair and a permanent sneer, Tong plays entitlement to the hilt—a young heir who sees Eastern Sun not as a legacy to respect but as a mere spreadsheet problem to liquidate. His contemptuous clashes with Dayo Wong’s streetwise manager provide some of the film’s most satisfying friction, making his eventual comeuppance all the sweeter for audiences hungry for old-school justice.

The film’s comedic relief doesn’t come from crude jokes but from the staff’s absurd schemes. The chemistry among the ensemble creates a sense of a dysfunctional family that audiences root for.

Compared to its predecessors, Night King is a significant evolution. The old-school “huanchang pian” (nightlife films) were trapped in a binary: either they were moralistic tales of women being forced into ruin (The Story of Susan) or they were simply titillating . Night King chooses a third path. By stripping away the male gaze and focusing on the “workplace” dynamics, it turns a potentially exploitative setting into a stage for a distinctly Hong Kong value: loyalty over profit.

Of course, this is a commercial film. The final act relies on a classic “con game” trope that feels a bit too neat and the villain is cartoonishly incompetent to ensure the heroes win. Night King isn’t trying to be The Godfather; it’s trying to be a warm hug in dark times. As the tagline suggests, “The world is tough, but we still walk.”

Night King is a delightful contradiction: a crowd-pleasing art piece, a cheerful film about endings, and a mature comedy about the immature business of staying young. It proves that with a great script and a cast this committed, even a story about a dying industry can feel vitally alive.

ELVEN HO

《再見UFO》短評

集體回憶的吸引力

很明顯，《再見UFO》是導演梁栢堅拍給在上世紀八十至九十年代成長的香港觀眾觀賞的電影，回憶總是美好的，不論當時的社會環境多麼荒謬，媒體生態多麼荒誕，因為一切已成過去，今天的我們只會對過去的一切會心微笑。例如：影片內再次呈現當年亞洲電視的節目《今日睇真D》用了數星期解剖外星人以賺取收視率的行徑，當時觀眾必定知道這是偽造的謊言，卻源於好奇心而天天追看，那種家家戶戶晚上留在家中吃飯看電視的回憶在多年後的今天仍然歷歷在目，因為這是我們的集體回憶，忘不了，捨不掉。這就是回憶的「魅力」，讓我們「重返」過去，多做一次孩童，多經歷一次「燦爛」的八九十年代。

影片內林可兒(蔡卓妍飾)長大後是典型的社畜，大學畢業後營營役役，擔任專業的會計師，卻失去了自己。她從小喜愛天文學，後來在大學裡為了「較佳的前途」而選了會計，卻忘記了自己的理想，畢業後又「被迫」選擇了不喜歡的職業，並狠心地把自己原來的興趣拋諸腦後。筆者還記得當年香港商業金融高速發展，學業成績優異的文科班同學大多在JUPAS選科表內以工商管理/會計學為第一志願，大學時期攻讀這些科目亦有「先天」的優越感，但畢業後卻發覺自己的個性和能力不適合在商界發展，輾轉數年後，他們仍未選定自己的終身職業，因為他們已失去了自己。可兒除了選錯學科及職業外，亦選錯了男朋友，以為自己能接受操控力極強的他，殊不知從婚禮舉行的那一天開始，她才認識和了解自己，她悔婚的那一刻，可能就是她撥亂反正而重新開始的新起點。當年像她不了解自己而選錯職業選錯對象的人不少，已屆中年的觀眾看著銀幕上的她，很大可能會有難以言喻的「親切感」，有相似經歷的觀眾甚至會有共鳴，並有深刻的回憶和體會。

影片內陳子健(徐天佑飾)自小不願意讀書，學歷不高，長大後依舊渾渾噩噩，工作不踏實，經常想著如何賺快錢，這亦是八九十年代不少年輕人的寫照。筆者還記得當年股票價格急速上升，不少股民賺至盆滿缽滿，甚至為了炒股票而放棄了正職，終至97年金融風暴股價大跌，最終不幸「損手爛腳」。子健是愛上投機取巧的典型香港人，只管如何在最短時間內賺最多的錢，卻忘記了如何踏實穩定地工作以換取固定的工資，他是當年香港金融業高速發展的得益者，亦是其後突然衰落的受害者。有相似經歷的觀眾看著銀幕上的他，實在百般滋味在心頭。因此，《再》給我們的集體回憶既快樂又悲傷，既想捨棄，卻又不願意忘記，有一種銘記在心但又說不出口的矛盾。

《哈姆尼特》短評

成功男人背後的女人

當我們談及莎士比亞時，通常只聚焦於他的作品，但對他的背景一無所知，未看《哈姆尼特》之前，還以為影片述說的是他成功的故事，殊不知他的愛情和家庭才是導演兼編劇趙婷關注的焦點。不少人認為作家自身的經歷是其靈感的主要泉源，他亦不例外，當時兒子因病去世，他痛苦不堪，驅使他創作了《哈》，或許對人生有所體會，才可把自己的感覺投射在劇作內，這使劇本的內容更豐富，亦更有生命力。他的成功，明顯與他當時慘痛的經歷有密切的關係，因為他曾經歷痛苦，才會了解快樂所帶來的甘甜和美好。故他創作喜劇之餘，還會創作悲劇，就在於他把自己對生命的感覺毫無保留地投射在劇作內。

莎士比亞(保羅·麥斯卡飾)得以離鄉別井到倫敦參與戲劇創作，全因他的太太艾格妮絲(潔西·伯克利飾)持家有道，妥善地照料他在故鄉裡的家庭，讓他可以到大城市專心發展自己的事業。導演刻意從女性的角度突顯當時女性備受忽視，但其實正擔任著不可或缺的重要角色。所謂「成功男人的背後必定有一女人」，他亦不例外，即使他的太太在他每次返家後都會抱怨他外出太久，以致他忽略了家庭，她仍然沒有強行禁止他再次到倫敦追尋自己的夢想，因為她知道：照顧家庭重要，但追尋個人理想亦同樣重要。

雖然莎士比亞的太太每次在他快要離開的一刻都會依依不捨，甚至因自己要獨力照顧三位年幼子女而感到吃力，但她仍然會支持他的創作，及後兒子去世後他仍然須返回倫敦，即使她怪責他，卻不曾強力制止他。她對他的支持其實是他創作力的泉源，正如他在傷痛中完成了《哈》的創作，片末她誤以為此劇作的內容不尊重她的兒子，但其後她竟看著《哈》而感動落淚，正暗示她欣賞莎士比亞，亦在他的作品中找到剛剛去世的兒子的「蹤影」。故最後她重拾初心，重新尋回自己對丈夫的愛，就是她對他創作的才華和個人的涵養的肯定和欣賞。

由此可見，影片內莎士比亞的劇作《哈》只是吸引觀眾進場觀賞此片的幌子，影片真正的核心內容其實圍繞著他身邊的人，特別是他的太太。影片花在描寫她的經歷和內心世界的篇幅特別多，這並非偶然，而是創作人刻意的安排，因為他的家庭是他事業發展的後盾，他創作了甚多膾炙人口的劇作，蘊藏著眾多他對生命的態度和看法，其人生觀和價值觀的形成和發展正好與他的家庭有密切的關係。故《哈》說明了一個道理：創作源自生活，而家庭是生活的核心。

《癲造之才》Marty Supreme

Timothée Chalamet’s Flawed Gem Rescues a Hollow Story

Hollywood has a long and storied tradition of turning life’s losers into matinee idols. From the tragic desperation of The Wrestler to the misanthropic genius of There Will Be Blood, the industry loves to dress societal detritus in the cloak of charisma, using A-list talent to make us care about people we would typically cross the street to avoid.

The latest entry in this canon is A24’s Marty Supreme, a film that leans so hard into this trope that it nearly buckles under the weight of its own protagonist’s unlikeability.

The film follows Marty, a directionless ping-pong player drifting through life with the ambition of a puddle and the moral compass of a shark.

Director Josh Safdie, known for crafting intense character studies, here presents a man almost entirely devoid of redeeming qualities.

Marty is selfish, petty, and stubbornly obtuse—the kind of guy who would blame his paddle for a loss and his mother for his existence in the same breath.

In any other actor’s hands, this character would be a cinematic black hole, sucking the energy out of every scene.

Enter Timothée Chalamet, delivering a tour-de-force performance that single-handedly elevates this slog of a narrative into something watchable.

Chalamet, who should have rightfully taken home an Oscar for his chameleonic turn as Bob Dylan in A Complete Unknown, here proves that his range is not limited to tortured geniuses.

As the insufferable Marty, he finds the pathetic humanity beneath the loser’s skin. He imbues the character with a twitchy, desperate physicality that makes his table-tennis sequences feel like ballet performed by a puppet with cut strings.

It is a performance so compelling that it tricks you into almost rooting for a man who doesn’t deserve your sympathy.

Unfortunately, Chalamet’s brilliance is the sole beacon in a film that is both far-fetched and overlong.

The story meanders through a series of improbable scenarios that stretch credulity, leaving the audience adrift in a sea of unearned plot twists.

For a film produced by A24—a studio renowned for the inventive, multiverse-bending originality of projects like Everything Everywhere All at Once (which showcased the brilliant Michelle Yeoh)—Marty Supreme feels strangely generic.

It lacks that spark of uniqueness, that willingness to take a stylistic risk that defines the studio’s best work.

By the time the credits roll, you are left with a hollow feeling. You haven’t been moved, and you certainly haven’t been entertained by the story.

Instead, you’ve simply witnessed a master actor at work, stranded on a raft in the middle of a murky narrative lake.

In the end, Marty Supreme is a novelty. It is a good film but not a great one—a fascinating character study without a compelling subject.

It serves as a pristine vehicle for Chalamet to remind us why he is one of the finest actors of his generation, even when the material beneath him refuses to keep pace.

A Masterpiece of Love, Loss, and Shakespeare’s Ghost

Chloé Zhao, the Oscar-winning Chinese director, has delivered a profoundly moving masterpiece with Hamnet. This is not a stuffy period drama but a sensuous, deeply felt portrait of a family shattered by grief.

Zhao, working from Maggie O‘Farrell’s novel, proves once again her extraordinary ability to find the universal in the specific, crafting a film that is as much about the healing power of art as it is about loss .

The cast is flawless. As Agnes, Shakespeare’s wife, Jessie Buckley gives a performance of raw, primal power. Her grief is not just acted; it’s embodied, from the guttural howl of loss to the quiet, simmering resentment toward a husband who processes pain through his quill.

Paul Mescal is equally compelling as Will, a man who flees his overwhelming sorrow into the burgeoning theatre scene of London, his detachment a quiet devastation of its own .

Beyond the performances, the film is a triumph of craft. Cinematographer Lukasz Zal, known for The Zone of Interest, shoots with a naturalistic, unflashy eye, favoring wide shots that place the characters within their oppressive, often beautiful environments .

Production designer Fiona Crombie builds a tangible world—the Shakespeare home feels genuinely lived-in, a heavy wooden box of domesticity .

The costumes by Malgosia Turzanska are a character study in themselves; Agnes’s bark-textured clothing and Will’s doublets, stained with ink, root them in their world without ever feeling like costume parade .

Maggie O’Farrell’s 2020 novel Hamnet, which won the Women’s Prize for Fiction, provides the source material for this extraordinary film .

The book emerged from O’Farrell’s fascination with the scant historical record of William Shakespeare’s family—specifically his son Hamnet, who died at age eleven in 1596, likely of bubonic plague.

O’Farrell made a crucial creative decision that shapes both novel and film: she renames Shakespeare’s wife Anne as Agnes, drawing from a historical variant, and places her at the story’s emotional center rather than relegating her to a footnote.

In O’Farrell’s telling, Agnes emerges as a woman with mysterious gifts—a healer attuned to the natural world who can read people’s natures with a single touch, the daughter of a reputed sorceress .

The novel weaves together the tragic arc of Hamnet’s death with the love story of his parents’ first meeting, exploring how grief can both shatter and ultimately transmute into art .

As O’Farrell herself explained, she wanted “to ask readers to forget everything they think they know about him, and meet this person as a human”—to strip away the literary icon and reveal a father processing unimaginable loss .

Where Zhao’s interpretation soars is in its focus. Unlike other Shakespeare-adjacent films that revel in the glamour of the Globe, Hamnet is anchored in the quiet, muddy reality of Stratford. It is less concerned with the birth of a legend than the death of a child.

The film’s climactic scene, where Agnes witnesses Hamlet for the first time, is a stunning piece of adaptation—she realizes her husband has transmuted their shared agony into art, a moment of reconciliation that feels truly earned .

Audiences include this reviewer were visibly moved at the Hong Kong premiere, with the cinema sitting in hushed silence as the credits rolled.

In the end, Zhao has not just adapted a book; she has given us a new, unforgettable classic about the spaces between people and the art that can fill them.

Pixar’s Robotic Beaver Caper is a Hilarious and Heartfelt Triumph

For its first original release of 2026, Pixar has delivered a film that feels like a vault back into the “vintage” era of Monsters, Inc. and Finding Nemo.

Hoppers is an excellent, wildly imaginative, and profoundly moving piece of animation that re-establishes why this studio remains the gold standard for storytelling.

The film introduces Mabel Tanaka, a passionate and fiercely rebellious animal lover horrified to discover that the smooth-talking Mayor Generazzo plans to bulldoze the nearby glades to extend a freeway.

Desperate to stop him, Mabel volunteers for a revolutionary project: to “hop” her consciousness into a lifelike, robotic beaver. This allows her to infiltrate the animal world and communicate directly with its inhabitants.

What follows is a dazzling adventure that plays out like Avatar meets Mission: Impossible. Mabel finds herself navigating a complex animal society led by King George, a hilariously charismatic beaver, and an eclectic council of rulers.

As she integrates, she uncovers that the animal kingdom is considering drastic measures to fight back against the human threat, forcing Mabel to rally both sides before it escalates into war.

The premise can be described as controlled lunacy. Director Daniel Chong leans into the absurdity with gleeful abandon, resulting in an incredibly funny film.

The humour lands constantly—from scientifically accurate visual gags about beavers to sharp dialogue—yet it never undermines the story.

Instead, it fuels the film’s incredible positive energy. It is also visually stunning, blending stylised, almost felted character designs against lush environments, with a unique aesthetic that immerses the audience.

At the core of this energy is Mabel. She is one of the best lead characters Pixar has crafted in years: flawed and impulsive, but with such a vibrant spirit that you cannot help but root for her.

The supporting cast, including the delightfully smarmy mayor and the perfect comedic foil of King George, are equally strong. Every character feels fully realised.

But the true magic of Hoppers lies in its emotional core. For a film filled with robotic beavers, it is achingly human.

The themes of empathy and environmental stewardship are handled with a delicate touch, building toward payoffs that hit you right in the chest.

There are moments of such tender connection that you feel the sting of tears welling up.

It makes you laugh uncontrollably one minute and has you swallowing a lump in your throat the next.

In the end, Hoppers is a home run for Pixar—a must-watch for families.

You’ll go for the laughs, but you’ll stay for the heart.

Elven Ho