A beautiful cop from the art department in Interpol learns that her ex, a billionaire, is the art-thieving man she’s been looking for (“Thomas Crowne Affair” much?). You can tell what her plan is to catch the guy, and the rest follows. For a movie titled Art of Love, there actually isn’t much love in it. The chemistry is lacking, the plot is more action-packed, and at the end of the day, nothing really adds up except the twist, which is as predictable as your mother’s answer to “What’s for dinner?” This Turkish action-romance film falls flat on every count, and the only thing that kept me interested was the lead actress and her outfits. I suppose it’s meant to give you the thrill of watching a Bond film, but it feels like a cheap street knock-off. I mean, sure, the film is “inspired,” but there isn’t really anything original about it. It’s a tale as old as time. Man messes with Woman’s heart. Man leaves; woman moves on to making her life perfect without him when he shows up and tries to sweep her off her feet again. So, why Art of Love? Well, the billionaire Güney is stealing paintings that are all about love. Sigh. Whatever adrenaline-fueled action film you’re looking for, this isn’t it. 

I suppose if you’re looking for a “leave your brain behind” kind of film, this one will satisfy your needs. There are some pretty backdrops, nice outfits, and maybe one decent action sequence. The script as a whole, though, is completely senseless. If you do decide to take anything seriously, there’s a chance you’ll turn off your screen in about 5 minutes. When I talk about the Indian Kannada language film Sapata Sagaradaache Ello, I always talk about how, right at the start of the film, you somehow know that these two people have been in love for a really long time. Despite the film picking up from a later stage of their relationship, you can see that they’ve already fit with each other like perfect puzzle pieces. However, I can’t say the same about Art of Love, which tries desperately to make us believe that Alin and Güney used to be a couple. The series of events that follow after Alin realizes that it’s Güney who is the robber she’s looking for becomes even more disconcerting. If you’re only in it for the chase, I hate to disappoint you, but that’s also quite lackluster. 

The other day, I reviewed a romantic film, which would be about a 2-2.5 star rating, and called it predictable. This is because there is a set of tropes that we rom-com fans are willing to give a free pass for. It’s pretty obvious what’s going to happen, and that’s alright because, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really ruin the plot; it just pushes it forward. In this film, the big plot reveal or major twist can be seen from miles away. It just leaves no room for entertainment when you know exactly how things are going to pan out because, at the end of the day, it’s meant to give you a “thrill.” But let me stop my rant there for a bit and speak about some positives. Esra Bilgiç as Alin is believable, and since she’s so stunning to look at and wears some fancy diamond jewelry throughout the film, it almost feels like watching one of those Cartier ads or something. Despite the lack of chemistry, I think she does a fine job otherwise for this role. Birkan Sokullu is just fine as a billionaire thief (not sure why this exists), and technically, most of what he has to do is walk quickly and disappear enigmatically from the screen. What I’m trying to say is that Esra Bilgiç deserved better in terms of everything. Even her hair is styled weirdly; what’s with the ends being turned out as if that’s the only part that got messed up by the wind? Odd choice, to say the least. At least, I won’t say the same about her clothing, which actually looks quite nice and compliments her appearance well. Though I’m not quite sure why she did that one scene in gym clothes. Alin has a partner who is essentially a prop. You could have him removed, and nobody would bat an eye. Güney’s team consists of two young and hot individuals, who are basically eye candy. I’m sorry; that’s just how it comes across. Oh, and I completely forgot, there is actually an antagonist, and, to say the least, there’s nothing menacing about him. 

The score is James Bond-esque, as is the overall feel of the film; however, what’s really bothersome is that, every few minutes, there’s a fade to black to cut the scene. The editing room needed help, and the music did the same thing! Why are songs getting cut off abruptly and switching genres at random moments? The movie is already absurd with its choices of making it appear as if art is being stolen in broad daylight and nobody notices. Then there’s a scene where an Interpol officer brings out her gun in a public space, though she’s chasing after an art thief. I’m not sure this would be the best move to make. But what do I know? 

I’m not going to lie; this film didn’t entertain me at all, and I was bored in about 15 minutes. If I wanted to see private jets and helicopter rides, I’d go for 50 Shades of Grey over this any day. I’m not quite sure if there was a conscious choice to make a film that is so unserious; if I didn’t know better, I may have assumed it’s a parody of some kind. But that would mean it was all on purpose, and I’d be giving the film too much credit. If you’ve got the time and are that bored, you could give this one the benefit of the doubt. Personally, I’d rather spend this time watching romance movies than anything that has to do with action, because frankly, this genre is really getting tired. So, should you put this one on your weekend watchlist? I’d say no. I’d give Art of Love 2 out of 5 stars. 

Every decade in the history of film has reserved a spot for stories about vengeful men. They were either avenging their girlfriend or their family, and the filmmakers used these loaded emotions to depict all kinds of carnage and gore. Obviously, a certain section of the audience enjoyed it and probably tried to emulate the actions of the characters, thereby leading to a state of panic amongst members of society with some semblance of sanity. Every time this trend ebbed, though, we got movies that commented on the futility of revenge. For example, Christopher Nolan talked about how corrosive vengeance can be for the soul in Memento and The Prestige. James Wan did the same in Death Sentence. Despite the satisfying conclusion, Kim Jee-woon’s I Saw the Devil made viewers question Soo-hyun’s journey into abject darkness. Denis Villeneuve showed the crumbling of a suburban family in Prisoners. Even Bollywood delved into this topic with Sriram Raghavan’s Badlapur. And then, of course, there are the John Wick films, which show how a trigger pulled in anger can have disastrous consequences. 24 Hours with Gaspar squarely falls into this category, but how good is it? Let’s find out.

Based on Sabda Armandio’s 2017 novel, Yosep Anggi Noen’s 24 Hours with Gaspar follows the titular character as he travels through a dystopian Indonesia in search of clues to find his long-lost childhood friend, Kirana. His investigation brings him to the dead body of an informant, and as he tries to find out whether he died by suicide or was killed by someone who is trying to obfuscate the truth, he is attacked by the authorities. This causes him to black out. He is rescued by his friend, Agnes, who brings him to the underground fight club that she runs (which is inspired by Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club). The resident doctor checks Gaspar and tells him that the equipment that has kept his heart (which is on the right side of his body) functional is fried. Since they are living in a world where healthcare doesn’t even exist, Gaspar has 24 hours to live. And he wants to use his final moments to find out what Wan Ali did to Kirana and exact some good old justice. However, since he knows there are people who would want to get even with Wan Ali, he sets out to bring them all together for the final mission of his life.

Mohammad Irfan Ramli’s writing in 24 Hours with Gaspar is quite scattershot. Several ideas are introduced here and there, which rarely lead to anything very substantial. For example, there is an undercurrent of “eating the rich” to talk about the class divide that has been caused by a plague. That’s somehow linked to the practice of organ harvesting. It’s juxtaposed with a story about Indra, Shri Krishna, and a black box. And that is connected to child trafficking. Even if it makes some sense, it fails to have a lot of bearing on the journeys of Agnes, Kik, Njet, Yadi, and Bu Tati. All of these characters have such a variety of motivations to act against Wan Ali that linking it to Gaspar’s cliche journey feels reductive. I guess Ramli is aware of that, and that’s why he makes them repeat their endgame over and over again so that the audience knows why they are aiding Gaspar. But that leads to another problem. With the exception of Kik, nobody really seems to care about the desperation of Gaspar’s mission. They just seem to tag along in the hopes that they’ll get something in the end that will allow them to improve their lifestyle, thereby making the theme of hope the only prominent aspect of the film.

24 Hours with Gaspar is all about finding hope in a dystopian place. It’s essentially like trying to reach the end of a rainbow to find the treasure box while purposefully ignoring the possibility that the treasure box isn’t real because, as long as the pursuit is on, the treasure box exists. Ramli and Noen wonder, via Gaspar, if this little bubble of ignorance that one creates to deal with the times is what leads to wanton violence. The titular character explicitly states that good people are swayed by the lies they tell themselves, and when they start believing in a lie, they justify all the means they employ to get the desired result. That brings up the question of whether or not a desperate good person is a bad person. In addition to that, if a lawless world has blurred the lines between goodness and badness, should a good person not care about being good? This is potent stuff, and Noen uses the slow burn method to tackle it, but that clashes with the ticking time bomb aspect of the film, thereby harming its commentary as well as its sense of urgency. I’m sure the pacing is intentional because I totally felt every second of the movie’s 90-minute-long running time.

24 Hours with Gaspar is a good-looking film, though. Noen, along with cinematographer Gay Hian Teoh, editor Ahmad Fesdi Anggoro, composer Ricky Lionardi, the production design team, the sound design team, and the visual effects team, create a world that feels lived-in and serves as a warning sign towards where humanity is heading. The stunt work at the tail end of the film is quite amazing. The props that are used look decent. All the flashback scenes have a sense of sweetness that makes the present-day narrative feel harsh and grating. And, of course, all of these elements are elevated by the performances of the cast. Reza Rahadian is like a mix of Abe Applebaum from The Kid Detective (because he is a self-proclaimed detective) and Ryan Gosling from Blade Runner 2049. His jaded and bumbling nature is perfect for this kind of story. Shenina Cinnamon’s screen presence is electrifying. Dewi Irawan is the MVP of the film. Her story breaks and her disdain for her son injects some much-needed levity into the gloomy atmosphere. The same can be said about Sal Priadi, who is hilarious in a pathetic way. Laura Basuki and Kristo Immanuel are great. Iswadi Pratama is fantastic, but he needed some more meat on his bones in terms of the writing, as it simply paints him as a despicable and greedy figure. Ali Fikry, Shofia Shireen, and Alleyra Fakhira are excellent.

24 Hours with Gaspar is a decent film. I just think the use of its central gimmick is flawed. If death is around the corner, then the desperation needs to be palpable, or things need to be slowed down so that the aforementioned victim of death gets to milk the last few minutes of their life. Doing both causes the narrative to come apart at the seams, and the final product ends up feeling hollow. So, while I appreciate the concepts that are thrown around, the technical wizardry used to create a dystopian hellscape, and the performances extracted by Yosep Anggi Noen, I will forget about it in the next 24 hours. Who knows? Maybe that’s the whole point of the film, and Noen wants to say that a story with hollow motivations will always be forgotten instead of being inspirational. If that’s the case, then well done, Noen and team. Do I recommend giving it a watch? Yes, absolutely, because even if it fails to make you think about the theme of vengeance, it’ll probably make you ask your leaders what they are doing to make the world a habitable place for you and your children.

If you’re anywhere in the atmosphere of the queer media scene, you’ve likely heard of the popular Swedish gay romance show Young Royals. And if you haven’t, then, my friend, you’re missing out on some perfectly angsty teen drama. What fans truly appreciate about the series about a young crown prince and his working-class lover is the fact that it showcases young people in the most natural light. Don’t get me wrong; not everyone has a crown prince in their school, so this level of drama will likely not exist for you. Still, there’s a sense of relatability in the way the kids look, carry themselves, and act around each other. In all honesty, before I watched the show, I was quite the skeptic. As much as I appreciate representation, at the time it seemed like we would get some sort of over-sexualized mess (case in point, some European Euphoria-esque show); however, I was pleasantly surprised by what we really got. Young Royals doesn’t simply tell the story of Wilhelm and Simon, though. The show explores aristocratic boarding schools and how they affect the students, ADHD, friendship, exploring sexuality, and so much more in a very dramatic (and also somewhat steamy) form. There’s no denying it; it’s an addictive show, despite its usage of EDM and hip-hop music (maybe your thing, but it completely takes me out of it). 

I’m not stalling; I’m just giving you a feel of what I appreciate about the show so I can step into the world of season 3 without inhibition. Young Royals season 3 turns up the drama a notch and continues to deliver an angsty romance between Wille and Simon. I mean, at this point, you’d imagine everything would be just fine between them and it’d be all love, but no, there’s still a lot of back and forth between them since they’re still young, vulnerable, and moldable kids. The pining and chemistry are still there, but there’s also a lot of tension. These two always know how to pull at our heartstrings. I suppose the timing of this release is quite helpful because you’d think being stuck with the same conflicts as season 2 might make the show a little bit tiresome, or at least take away from its flair just a tiny little bit. Don’t worry, there’s still a lot to take away this season, and since there is still one episode left to come out, it leaves you with a lot of questions and very little hope, in the very “Young Royals” way. 

This season, though it may be one of redemption, there’s one character who seems to be deteriorating by the day, and that’s the protagonist, Willhelm. Though he was always a little bit immature, he had a sense of innocence about him earlier on. Now, there seems to be a dark turn, one that’s hard for even Simon to understand. What will this lead to for them? How will they deal with this struggle? Since the show has had enough time to give us a little bit about some other characters as well, we go further into their struggles as well. Specifically, August’s trajectory this season is one that’s upward for sure. I wouldn’t say he’s completely changed, but you can feel the remorse he feels for everything he’s done in the past, and there is a genuine sense of hope in his character. Actor Malte Gardinger is so wonderful at eliciting vehement hate from within me, but at the same time, his dimple-y face also portrays hurt beautifully, leaving you feeling at least a little pity for August. I suppose some characters always have to take the back seat, and this season that was Felice. However, we do get to see her struggle with her distance from Sara for a little bit. In the meantime, Sara gets a lot more screen time than her best friend as she tries to bond with a different family member. Sara has been making mistake after mistake since she came into Felice’s life; to think she’s the reason any of this happened at all is frankly appalling and sad at the same time. However, now she has the time to focus on herself and reflect. Even if that means being hated by her brother for a little bit, We get to see a new bond grow, which is both adorable and nerve-wracking at the same time. 

This season focuses a lot on aristocracy and privilege. We get to see how different Willhelm and Simon truly are, and it sometimes makes you wish they would just stop being together. Don’t come at me; I love them together too, but there’s only so much hurt one can bear. Of course, the rivalry between Wilhelm and August is as strong as before. We see them both trying to take charge, and this affects both of them mentally. For Willhelm, it’s between family—his heritage—and Simon—his love. On the other hand, for August, it’s all about who he is in front of the world. In the middle of all of this, there’s a massive crisis in Hillerska. There’s a chance the school will be shut down after a scandal breaks out, and it’s up to the kids to try and save the day. Is Hillerska worth saving? What’s so special about this prestigious school? Will Simon and Felice be able to dedicate themselves to its cause? You’ll find out in Young Royals season 3.

For the most part, season 3 of Young Royals follows the same patterns as the rest of the show. It’s got the raves, the makeouts, the adorable outfits; I really appreciate the effort in hair and makeup for some of these characters; and most importantly, it drops the drama like a sack of hot potatoes, ready to be gobbled up on a cold winter day. If you’ve liked the show thus far, you’re definitely going to enjoy season 3. There’s no denying that it’s just as good as the first season and a little bit better than the second one, which felt a little bit dull in comparison. Although the wait for the finale is leaving me very anxious and excited at the same time, I’d give the third season 4 out of 5 stars, as it delivers exactly what you expect from it and more. You’re going to really appreciate that last episode and Edvin Ryding’s acting in one particular scene that will leave you completely gobsmacked. With that said, I will leave you to go watch Young Royals season 3, which I’d recommend stretching until next week only because it would reduce the wait time for the grand finale. 

Teasers, trailers, and those who edit them get a lot of unfair flak. If it’s not properly edited, then it’s lambasted to hell. If it is properly edited, it sets unrealistic expectations, and if the movie doesn’t meet those expectations, then the trailer editors are criticized for cutting a trailer that doesn’t represent the quality of the movie at all. The marketing department probably keeps pushing these editors to put all the best stuff in the teasers and trailers. If they end up showing too much, then they are vilified for ruining the viewing experience. If they don’t show a lot, then it doesn’t generate enough interest, thereby leading to another kind of vilification. But here’s the cold, hard truth: sometimes the movie (or the show) that’s being cut into a trailer is not good to begin with. Sometimes, what you see in a trailer accurately represents what the final product is going to be like. It’s just our inability to digest the fact that something can be so vapid that it causes us to lash out on the trailer instead of preparing ourselves for the train wreck ahead. Anyway, let’s talk about Damsel.

Juan Carlos Fresnadillo’s Damsel, opens with a king and his subjects facing a dragon and being burned to a crisp. The narrative moves forward in time by a few centuries and takes us to the kingdom of Lord and Lady Bayford. Princess Elodie and her sister Floria are seen cutting the last of the woods to keep themselves warm through the winter season. Food is scarce, people are dying, and apparently, there’s no solution in sight. That’s when the Bayfords get an invitation from Queen Isabelle to visit her kingdom and allow Elodie to marry Prince Henry. In exchange, Queen Isabelle will save the Bayfords’ kingdom. Lord and Lady Bayford are ready to accept the offer, and looking at the situation of the people, Elodie also agrees to get married. Elodie and Henry hit it off almost instantly, and, despite some warning signs here and there, they go ahead with the wedding. However, as you must have seen in the trailer, right after the marriage, Elodie is thrown into a pit, then she fights a dragon, makes it out of there, and confronts Queen Isabelle. I swear, I’m not giving any spoilers; it’s all in the trailer.

I genuinely don’t know why Damsel has been made. Back in 2022, Le-Van Kiet made The Princess, which subverted the damsel-in-distress trope by having the princess save herself instead of waiting for a prince to save her. In 2021, Scott Derrickson delivered The Black Phone, where the ghosts of the victims of The Grabber helped his latest victim escape from his clutches. In 2019, Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett gave us Ready or Not, where a cursed family tried to kill the newlywed bride in order to save themselves from being killed by the ghosts that were haunting them. If you put all of these narratives through a machine, set it in the fantasy genre, and insert some random observations masquerading as meaningful dialogues, then what you’ll have in your hands is the screenplay of Damsel. Of course, everything is a copy of a copy of a copy, but what sets a copy apart from the original (if there is one) is its commentary on the tropes of the original or the relevancy of its themes. Does Mazeau have anything new to say? Well, I guess (and it’s a massive guess) that by showing three female characters (Elodie, Isabelle, and the Dragon) fighting each other because of the mistakes of a man, Mazeua is stating that men create problems, and everyone else suffers because of it. And instead of fighting each other, we should seek to rectify the bad effects of patriarchy. But then I see the dragon melting the face of the matriarch, as opposed to making her introspect about her misdeeds, and I feel confused all over again.

I get it. In the 21st century, it’s tough to come up with a fresh perspective, especially if you are a man who is centering his movie around a woman and trying to speak about feminism through a fight with a dragon in a dungeon. But is it really that tough to conjure up interesting visuals, memorable action sequences, or compelling moments that’ll make a mark in the fantasy genre? When we talk about good live-action fantasy movies (and strictly fantasy movies with magical realism, not superhero or sci-fi movies), Lord of the Rings, Excalibur, Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, Willow, Clash of the Titans (the 1981 film), Conan the Barbarian, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Mummy, Pan’s Labyrinth, Hook, and even Monty Python and the Holy Grail come to mind. Now, if you look at those, and if you look at Damsel, you can see the chasm in terms of quality. It’s not even on par with fantasy TV shows (I won’t say the genre is exactly thriving because every fantasy TV show starts off well and then plummets into oblivion). The visuals inside the cave are straight-up horrendous. The VFX and CGI used for the dragon fire are decent. The dragon doesn’t look intimidating at all, and she looks ugly. Some of the scenes of the characters running are awful because it’s so clear they are sprinting on a treadmill instead of, you know, the ground. The use of the layered costume design is somewhat smart, but the way the film conveniently works its way around the concept of injuries, thereby rendering the wear and tear of the costume moot, is laughable. Also, the movie is 1 hour and 49 minutes long. I don’t usually complain about running times, but dedicating so much time to essentially nothing is brave.

When it comes to the cast of Damsel, the movie entirely rests on Millie Bobby Brown’s shoulders. So, let me preface my criticism of her performance a little bit. Much like the cast of Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Narnia, and even Twilight, I have seen Brown grow up right in front of my eyes as the face of a massive franchise like Stranger Things. Knowing what I know about showbiz, and despite being unaware of what these actors are really like in their real lives, they occupy a soft spot in my heart because it seems like I have grown up with them. Naturally, that comes in the way of any genuine criticism because it hurts to bash a “friend” who has put their heart and soul into a movie. That said, after learning that Brown is a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador who rubs shoulders with a bigoted actor and refuses to call out the most horrifying atrocity in human history, I don’t think I have to keep my gloves on. Yes, I do think that Brown is horribly miscast in the film. She has no screen presence whatsoever. She can’t pull off action sequences, even if her life depends on them. She shouldn’t take all the blame for it, though, because she is working with an incompetent director and a talentless writer. By the way, the movie also has actors like Robin Wright, Nick Robinson, Ray Winstone, Angela Bassett, and Shohreh Aghdashloo, and their roles are painfully forgettable. I just hope they got paid appropriately to appear in this stupid film.

It is true that superhero movies have taken over the high fantasy genre, but non-superhero fantasy movies are still being made. There’s George Miller’s Three Thousand Years of Longing, David Lowery’s The Green Knight, John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein’s Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, and Lijo Jose Pellissery’s Malaikottai Vaaliban. I know that that is not a lot because Disney has populated this space with live-action remakes of their animated classics, and those abominations should be avoided like the plague. But that doesn’t mean I have to celebrate poorly made movies like Damsel just because they fall into the high-fantasy genre, in the hopes that motivates producers to greenlight more high-fantasy films. Alternatively, I will request that they watch all the aforementioned examples that I have cited positively, take notes from them, and then make movies like them. That’s not an excuse to remake them, by the way. My sense of nostalgia has dried up. Give me something original, or let me rewatch the classics. Additionally, if your entire film—original or copied—can fit into a 3-minute-long trailer, maybe go back to the drawing board until you come up with something substantial.

It’s a miracle that movies and TV shows get made. The journey from a mere concept to a full-fledged script is a lengthy process. Getting a movie (or a show) greenlit based on a screenplay is comparable to an installment of Mission: Impossible. Assembling a cast and crew and finishing a film (or show) without exceeding the given budget is insane. If that’s all there was to it, you could’ve shrugged and said that that’s not too hard. But the process of putting that film on the big screen (or even the small screen) while passing the various kinds of censorship laws, test screenings, and making one’s money back is what makes filmmaking so bloody tough. Now, various projects from all over the globe have tried to give us a peek into the inner workings of the silver screen in an attempt to make us more empathetic towards the entertainment industry. Hollywood has given us Barton Fink, The Aviator, Tropic Thunder, The Offer, The Artist, Dolemite Is My Name, Entourage, and the Scream franchise. Japan has done One Cut of the Dead. Despite the vastness of the industry, the two good Bollywood projects about the art of making movies that I have watched are Luck by Chance and The Dirty Picture. And after Showtime, I fear that it’s going to stay that way for a while.

Sumit Roy’s Showtime, tells the story of Mahika Nandi, a film critic at a news channel. She has watched the newly released Viktory Studios film, Pyaar Dangerous, and thinks that it’s utter garbage. When her boss falls sick, she is asked to do the official review. Zico, an employee of Viktory Studios, approaches Mahika and tells her to give the film at least four stars because it’s bound to be a super hit. He bribes her by offering her a new phone, and she seemingly takes it. However, when Mahika sits down to film her review, she not only lambasts it but also exposes the scummy tactics used by Viktory Studios to win over critics. She is promptly fired from her job. That said, her state of unemployment doesn’t last very long as the owner of Viktory Studios, Victor Khanna, posthumously announces that Mahika is her granddaughter from his first marriage and she’ll take care of the production house. Meanwhile, his arrogant and rude son, Raghu Khanna, gets next to nothing. This puts both of them on a warpath and their movies in jeopardy.

If the aforementioned synopsis of Showtime interests you, then you should definitely check out the series on Disney+ Hotstar. If you want to come to a decision based on what I’m about to say about the series, please be warned that none of it is going to be good. Now, the first thing that I want to address is this Part 1 and Part 2 nonsense. Hotstar has done this with The Night Manager and The Freelancer in the past, and they have done it again with Showtime. I get the reasoning behind it (the streaming platform wants to generate interest and anticipation), but the issue is that breaking up 7-8 episodes into two parts doesn’t really work when the meat of the story is in the second half. And, maybe from the perspective of a viewer, it can seem somewhat intriguing, but as a critic, what the hell am I supposed to talk about? The character arcs are incomplete. The plot is incomplete. The themes are incomplete. So, what am I supposed to critique or praise? If I comment on what I have seen so far—which is one half of the picture—all I can come up with is that it’s horrible. But isn’t that a disservice to the writers? To have a portion of their work criticized because some MBA graduate marketing professionals said that shows should go out in two parts? Well, I guess if the showrunners and producers don’t care about what they are putting out there, then why should I?

Showtime is made of half-baked ideas which are meant to spark speculation. But the longer you stay with those ideas, the stupider they seem. Victor and Raghu are probably supposed to be a broken reflection of Yash and Aditya Chopra, going by their appearance and the polar opposite perspectives on what good cinema means. Then you look at the name of one of the producers (Karan Johar) and wonder why this man, who is apparently very close to the Chopras, is doing a hit job on them. And then you hear the endless lines of exposition uttered by Raghu and come to the realization that it’s not a fully-formed character, just a walking-talking rumor mill. Armaan is an amalgamation of Salman Khan, Shah Rukh Khan, Ajay Devgn (they use a piece of music from Ishq’s “Neend Churai Meri”), and Akshay Kumar. Does he get to do anything substantial? No. All the female characters are travesties. Yasmin Ali has an affair with Raghu and gets pregnant. Wow, so original. Mandira is Armaan’s wife, and she wants to make a comeback. Again, the originality is astounding. And then there’s Mahika. Everything that she does after becoming a producer is headache-inducing. She talks so much about filmmaking and does so little filmmaking that it’s legitimately infuriating that a bunch of experienced filmmakers came together and failed to make a character do a ton of fake filmmaking. How is that possible? Go and ask Karan Johar and Co. On top of all that, there’s some flimsy commentary on domestic abuse and the practice of boycotting films, which is somewhat relevant, I suppose.

Chup: Revenge of the Artist, Showtime, and that one tweet from Vidyut Jammwal have aggressively pushed forth the notion that paid reviews exist. I am here to say, as a Rotten Tomatoes-approved film critic who has been working in the industry for about 6 years, that they are all correct: paid reviews do exist. Gift hampers are sent, interviews are greenlit, set visits are allowed, and many other tactics are used to coerce a publication or a channel to get a positive review for an upcoming project. However, if Showtime didn’t have cameos from Nayandeep Rakshit and Rajeev Masand, I would’ve believed that the makers of the show really wanted to criticize this insidious culture that has been established by studios and media outlets, and they would like to put an end to this despicable practice. Since that’s not the case, that aspect of the show is meaningless. In addition to that, the series doesn’t delve into the fact that the concept of paid reviews is limited to big publications with a bottomless well of money to back them up. Smaller, indie publications fly under the radar and are filled with honest journalists who love good films and shows and have spines that’ll put these “popular” advertisers masquerading as critics to shame. However, to shed some light on this corner of the entertainment business, artists need to be knowledgeable and well-intentioned. Since none of those words are synonymous with Showtime and its makers, I better not waste any more of my energy on them.

The less I say about the performances in Showtime, the better. I don’t think it’s entirely their fault, though. Mahima Makwana, Emraan Hashmi, Mouni Roy, Rajeev Khandelwal, Shriya Saran, Vijay Raaz, Vishal Vashishtha, and many other members of the cast are immensely experienced actors with a lot of projects under their belt. But the material they are working with, the direction they’ve been given, and the scenarios they are put in—it’s bad, cheap, tacky, and undercooked. The series inadvertently proves the fact that making good movies and shows is like capturing lightning in a bottle, and making good movies and shows about making movies and shows is like sending your homemade rocket to the Moon. Anyway, if you are interested in films and shows that talk about the art of filmmaking, take your pick from any of the aforementioned titles. There are documentaries available on YouTube, packed with interviews from the cast and the crew, that’ll give you a lot of insight into how movies and shows get made. There are books on Satyajit Ray, Martin Scorsese, and Akira Kurosawa’s body of work; give them a read. If you want to waste your time, watch Showtime.

Sci-fi has the potential to explore inexplicable phenomena and simply to let imagination run wild. It can be considered a testimony to the future mankind envisions or the parallel universe they won’t mind belonging to. Netflix’s The Signal (Das Signal) takes a rather grounded approach to the genre and blends it with drama and mystery, and the result is compelling. The drama takes precedence in this limited series, and uncovering a mysterious disappearance becomes the turning point. Sci-fi tends to gravitate towards raw human emotions, and The Signal is no exception.

The series primarily revolves around the mysterious disappearance of astronaut Paula. Her husband Sven and daughter Charlie watched her land on Earth with pride, and they looked forward to welcoming her back home. Charlie suffered from hearing loss, and Paula’s mission was to find a solution for Charlie’s betterment. She was hopeful that one day her daughter would be able to hear, and as a scientist, she was determined to not give up. Paula and Hadi were sent to the International Space Station by Indian billionaire Benisha Mudhi– a self-made businesswoman who believed in empowering those who showed potential. She shared a close relationship with Paula and trained her for the space program. Mudhi often stated that she loved Paula like her own daughter and wished nothing but the best for her. Paula had immense trust in Mudhi, and she had confidence in herself to make a groundbreaking discovery. Little Charlie was inspired by her mother and Mudhi—two self-made women who believed in bringing about a change in the world.

Charlie was fascinated by the history of space exploration, and as her mother’s daughter, she too believed in looking at the brighter side of things. Sven was a proud husband, and he eagerly waited for Paula’s return. Unlike Paula, Sven was a paranoid man. He was convinced that the state would tap into his smartphone and preferred using his feature phone. Sven was relieved when he received a call from Paula after the landing. He was a little surprised when she spoke to him in coded words. He could not decipher everything she said, but he realized it was crucial the minute her flight went missing. Paula had repeatedly mentioned the fox and hare game and the importance of staying ahead always. Sven was caught off guard when he received a voicemail from Paula talking about their anniversary, but she had gotten the date wrong. It was unlike Paula to make such mistakes, and Sven had a hunch that she knew prior to the landing that her life was in danger. The Signal is about how the father and daughter come together to solve the twisted mystery of Paula’s disappearance. It was them against the world from the minute they realized that nobody truly cared about Paula. The discovery that Paula made during her space exploration was key to understanding the reason behind the disappearance. The conspiracy was extremely elaborate, and all Sven cared about was bringing justice to Paula.

The Signal beautifully captures the father-daughter relationship. In just four episodes, we feel a connection with Sven and Charlie. The characters are well-written, and their reaction to the shocking truth feels honest and effective. In such overly dramatic situations, the chances of exaggeration of expression are high, and it leaves a bitter taste, but the creators have managed to strike a balance. The Charlie character is particularly worth mentioning. The writers brilliantly incorporated the presence of the little girl in situations that were beyond her comprehension. Her perspective on the entire crisis added a touch of innocence. Her uncomplicated opinion was a reminder of what truly mattered and how simple the solutions often are.

The focus of The Signal is primarily on the story. There is very little to explore beyond the narrative because, visually, it looks like any other series on Netflix. Cooler tones are used to underline Sven and Charlie’s grim situation, and a touch of warmth is introduced when Benisha Mudhi enters the frame. In several moments in the series, the audio is adjusted from the perspective of Charlie, and it acts as a reminder of how challenging and overwhelming the entire experience was for her.

Yuna Bennett is brilliant as Charlie. She seamlessly transformed into the character and delivered a genuine performance. The same goes for Florian David Fitz as the panic-stricken husband, Sven. He captures the exhaustion, the fear, and the grief that Sven goes through in the course of the series. Peri Baumeister as Paula lives up to her character. The contradiction between Paula’s dream of changing the world and her fear of losing her mind in a confined space is an interesting layer added to the character. I was pleasantly surprised to see Sheeba Chaddha in a German production, and as usual, she did complete justice to her character. The overall performance of the entire cast of The Signal is satisfying and one of the many reasons why the limited series manages to leave an impression. The same cannot be said about the background score. It is a little too generously spread and is overall quite generic, but thankfully not distracting.

The Signal reminds its audience that progress can only be made when we come together as one. The way the series began, this was not the message I anticipated. The chances of a Netflix sci-fi movie messing it up are high, especially when aliens are brought into the picture. But thankfully, the creators had a very particular vision about the message they wanted the audience to take back home—a welcoming twist in the tale. At a time when we are regularly coming across news of bombings, hunger, starvation, and inhumane war crimes committed, The Signal attempts to hold up the bigger picture. It reminds us how every step we take towards world peace is erased by another conflict. Of course, a four-episode series barely scratches the surface of the problem, and what it shows is already common knowledge, but we cannot deny that at the very least it arrives at something important and worth paying attention to. The way the creators have incorporated a significant moment in history into the narrative is praise-worthy. Overall, this Netflix German limited series does not disappoint unless you are searching for an outlandish sci-fi.

Guy Ritchie is one of the most influential directors in the crime drama genre. He has a very distinct and complicated way of telling his stories, and his visuals are so uniquely stylized that one can only dream of aping them but never succeed at emulating Ritchie’s level of finesse. With the exception of Swept Away, the man enjoyed a pretty solid run at the box office and received critical acclaim. But when he swung for the fences with King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, it didn’t work out. And while a debacle of that scale usually relegates an artist to the proverbial “director’s jail,” Ritchie only increased his output and experimented with his technique and mastery over various genres. I was a little apprehensive about him returning to the small screen nearly two decades after Lock, Stock… because overseeing a show while working on so many theatrical productions seemed like a hectic undertaking. But after watching all eight episodes of The Gentlemen, I can say that he and his team have made one of the best comedy crime dramas of all time.

Guy Ritchie’s Netflix show The Gentlemen, is centered around Eddie Horniman, the younger son of the Duke of Halstead. His elder brother is Freddy, who is married to Tammy. He has a sister named Charlotte. And their mother is Lady Sabrina. All of them are more or less dependent on and attached to Halstead Castle, but Eddie isn’t, as he is seen happily working as a captain in the British Army. But when the Duke breathes his last, Eddie returns home to be with his family. Things take an ugly turn when it’s revealed that Eddie has inherited the biggest chunk of the Halstead estate instead of Freddy. To make matters worse, Freddy discloses that he is drowning in debt and that he was planning to use the inheritance money to pay some dangerous people back. Eddie is ready to help, but the issue is that they don’t have the kind of cash that Freddy needs. That’s when a solution arrives in the form of Susie Glass and the weed empire of Bobby Glass, which sucks Eddie into a world of crime.

Given that it’s a spin-off of the 2019 film by Guy Ritchie, also titled The Gentlemen, you’ll probably be wondering if you should watch the film to “understand” the show. It’s a good film, so you should watch it anyway. But if you want to watch it to draw connections between the film and the series, I am afraid you won’t find any. They are linked by their aesthetics, artistic choices, and the fact that both of them feature men who want to cut off their respective criminal ties but only end up getting seduced by them. So, if you want to watch the series without watching the film, you can do that and not really miss out on anything. However, since the movie is so great, I’ll recommend giving it a go. With that out of the way, let’s talk about the Netflix series. As mentioned before, the stories in Ritchie’s films tend to oscillate between timelines. They tend to fan out a lot, but by the end, he magically ties up all the loose ends. And if anything is left unattended, it’s purposeful. The show is no different. There are so many subplots that even thinking about them makes me dizzy. What baffles me, though, is the way the writers wrap them up while maintaining the theme of miscommunication and misinterpretation. It’s masterful.

Another integral aspect of Ritchie’s films is that they are kinetic as hell. It’s overwhelming and, in a weird way, makes his stuff so rewatchable because you are bound to miss something the first few times, but the viewing experience is so entertaining that you’ll be drawn back to it and discover new things. Stupidly enough, I was worried that if he did that over the course of 8 hours, it would get exhausting. But since Ritchie and his team are so smart and talented, they take the marathon-running approach instead of treating every episode like a 100-meter sprint. That allows you to really track the distinct character arcs of Eddie, Freddy, and Susie while enjoying the bite-sized issues they run into. I like the slight change in perspective to expand the world of The Gentlemen. While Mickey Pearson (played by Matthew McConaughey) was the one who was grabbing the estates from the royals to expand his weed business, Eddie Horniman is a royal whose estate is being grabbed for expanding the Glass weed empire. And through the myriad of approaches he takes to solve this issue, it shows that the time of the royals is over, and if they want to survive (or have some semblance of power), they have to shed their classism and embrace inclusivity.

The Gentlemen is probably the rare show that has somehow, miraculously, managed to work its way around the washed-out look that modern shows have, while also avoiding the compression issues that come with streaming platforms. I don’t know how, but since Guy Ritchie and his team have done the impossible, I think every other artist should get in touch with them so that I don’t have to watch another dull-looking frame for the rest of my life. I am told that the “bland look” is the result of an industry-wide trend, but you pick any frame from this show and tell me that it would’ve looked better if the colors didn’t pop and there was a white haze over the whole thing. You won’t because getting to feel the texture, the atmosphere, and the geography of a scene immerses you in the story, and boring visuals don’t let you do that. Much like most of Ritchie’s filmography, the show is very talkative. However, the purposeful framing, the costumes, the locales, the editing, the use of on-screen notes, the music, the occasional burst of action, and, of course, the dedicated performances from every single member of the cast make every single dialogue-heavy scene such a blast to watch. Also, the show is incredibly paced, and the tonal shifts between the wacky stuff and the soulful stuff are simply mesmerizing.

Talking about the acting in The Gentleman, my lord, what an immensely talented cast. Theo James has such a reserved sense of humor and an incredible screen presence. The MVP of the show is Kaya Scodelario. She is sharp, chilling, and devours every scene she is in. Daniel Ings is hilarious but in a sad way. He is like the Fredo Corleone to Theo’s Michael Corleone, if you know what I mean. Chanel Cresswell and Jasmine Blackborow are great. Vinnie Jones reunites with Guy Ritchie after 20 years and delivers his most tender performance yet. Joely Richardson is fantastic, as always. Without giving away spoilers, there’s a scene between Vinnie and Joely that made me teary-eyed. Michael Vu’s stoner act is so perfect that even if Guy Ritchie personally rings me up and tells me that he wasn’t consuming weed during filming, I won’t believe him. Giancarlo Esposito is playing yet another antagonist, and it’s truly wild that he has turned typecasting into a good thing. Peter Serafinowicz is tremendous in what can be called an extended cameo. Ray Winstone doesn’t have a lot of screen time, but he casts such a huge shadow that you can feel him hovering over all the characters in the show. Dar Salim has a sweet cameo. Guz Khan is amazing. Laurence O’Fuarain is riotous in the role of JP. And the list goes on. So, please keep an eye out for everyone who appears in the foreground of the show, but also observe what they do when they are out of focus and in the background. Everyone elevates the scene they are in such small ways that it makes me want to give them all the awards.

There are several ways to gauge a show’s quality, but the method that I have started to use is rewatchability. No, I’m not just talking about a series being good enough to make you re-watch the whole thing. I am talking about a show having such good scenes that you are forced to immediately rewind it and rewatch it. And I did that multiple times throughout The Gentlemen, especially the scene involving Hitler’s nuts. Which means that I highly recommend watching the show as soon as possible. No, I don’t want anyone to rush it so that Netflix gets the message that they should greenlight a second season of the show. If they were in the business of consistently producing quality entertainment, they would’ve done that already. Since they are in the business of commissioning good movies and shows and then canceling them when they don’t reach their arbitrary benchmarks, it’s pointless to appease them. The Gentlemen is a show that can be binged or slowly consumed over the course of a week or a few weeks. Just make sure you are in the right headspace and have the time to properly appreciate the show, because that’s what Guy Ritchie and his team deserve.

As much as I love the visual mediums of film and TV, I have grown very weary of the action genre. Maybe it’s the oversaturation of the market with big-budget ensemble films (yes, Marvel, looking at you), or it’s simply that there is no room for originality in said genre. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not hard to impress; it just so happens that these days, impressive content is hard to come by. With our reduced attention spans and 100 shows dropping every day, I’m certain we’ve crossed a line when it comes to authenticity. Recently, I came across a video of director Guillermo Del Toro talking about how films should be judged by style and not just substance. In fact, sometimes, just like art, it should be judged only by style. Okay, a French Netflix action thriller is not meant to be seen through a film-intellect lens; however, I can’t help but feel massively bored and borderline annoyed at these shows that seemingly want to break barriers with female action leads and massive budgets for cool stunts and such. No, I’m not impressed; it’s not new, it’s not imaginative, and it’s got no feeling. 

Whenever there’s a female lead in an unconventional role, I tend to give that piece of entertainment some sort of preference in terms of whether I can pretend to like it for that one reason alone. When I started with Furies, I had the feeling it’d be nested in this category in some corner of my brain; however, the more I do this job, the more resistance I build to such a lazy response to entertainment. I suppose, in some ways, this is a good thing because it means the juices in my brain are still flowing in the right way. Furies is a show that uses many categories of action and combines them into a mediocre show, with some high-octane action sequences and the hope of being something big with a female-centric plot. You’ve got godfathers, mafias, gangs, mob families, a heist-like situation, betrayal, a love triangle, family bonding, and so much more that I can’t even keep track. At its heart, it’s a revenge drama about a woman who gets caught up in a web of insanity when she witnesses something terrible on her birthday. 

The fabric of this story is woven with too many different weights of yarn, which leaves it easily tearable. It almost feels like every new twist or crucial piece of information gets added after the consequences occur as if written in reverse. What I mean is, if in a story, C is the cause of A and B coming together, in this show, it feels like A and B are decided after C’s already gone down. Can you imagine that this show got me so confused that I’m making math-like equations to explain when I can’t do math to save my life? Furies is not a bad show. I’m not hating it blindly; these are my personal reasons for not liking it. However, I do believe a majority of the audience, which appreciates good action series, might like this one. Keep in mind, though, that since the formula’s a little bit messed up, leave your brain behind while watching this one. I did find a lot of things in this show quite unbelievable, not in a fantastical sense, but in the “is this really possible?” or “how could that be?” kind of way. 

At its center, the show has a female in the role of peacekeeper in the dark and scary Paris underworld. This is rather fascinating, and personally, I feel like it could’ve been a much more impressive thing if the show actually used this factor to its benefit. In this particular case, if you switched out these peacekeepers, aka the furies, for males, it would make no difference to the plot or to the situation within the show surrounding these characters. This is where lies the flaw. I suppose one could argue that women can be cold-hearted murderers like men and other such things; however, I feel like there’s a need for something deeper, gender-wise. Especially when it comes to these particular characters. There’s a lot of emotionality in Lyna, the protagonist. I mean, she’s got a lot to swallow as soon as the show begins, yet somehow, she swims through massive emotional blows as if she’s got no heart. Additionally, some montages in this show that occur as flashbacks are quite annoying and don’t do anything for it as a whole either. 

Despite its many flaws, the cast does a good job at upholding the story as it goes, and yes, if all you care about is if the action sequences are fantastic, then sure, they’ve got a bite to them. However, I don’t think they’re anything fresh or memorable. In fact, I think overall, the show is quite forgettable (I sound like a broken record at this point when it comes to action television). Actress Lina El Arabi is fantastic in the role of Lyna and carries the show on her shoulders well. She is quite fitting for this role, and I was left smitten by her perfect abs and toned muscles. On the other hand, her mentor, nemesis, and friend, call her whatever you like: Selma, played by actress Marina Fois, feels like quite an undercooked character and is quite superficial. Yes, she’s got the biggest twists to her name, but there’s something underwhelming about the character as a whole and the way she comes about in the show. However, the actress does what she can to elevate the character. 

I suppose my patience has run dry when it comes to the action genre, and I might be the problem here, but in this age where the world demands fast and exciting, I find it hard every day to enjoy something wholeheartedly for what it’s presented as. There’s just so much to take in all the time, and the smorgasbord of content available to us is unbelievably lavish and, at the same time, threatening. So, maybe I didn’t like Furies because it didn’t give me what I would’ve liked from a show like this, but if you’re on the lookout for pure action entertainment to help you get through the weekend (what’re those?), then Furies might be the perfect pick for you. If I hadn’t had to watch it for this job, I’d probably have skipped this one to save others from listening to me rant about how we’re failing TV as a society, but alas, here we are, so perhaps I’ll go chew someone’s ear up while you ruminate over what I’ve said or simply enjoy this show over the weekend with a dear friend and a bag of chips. 

“Sad people in space” is an intriguing and unique subgenre. A lot of sci-fi movies and shows try to fictionalize space exploration by unraveling its mysteries, imagining what aliens would be like, what other planets would look like, and wondering whether humankind will be able to coexist or do what humans have always done, i.e., kill or be killed. But the “sad people in space” subgenre does the exact opposite, as it uses the vastness of space or massive celestial objects to make its protagonist reflect on their lives and gain some form of closure before they return home or take their last breath. Keir Dullea did it in 2001: A Space Odyssey, Robert Pattinson in High Life, Matt Damon in The Martian, Brad Pitt in Ad Astra, Ryan Gosling in First Man, Donatas Banionis and George Clooney in their respective versions of Solaris, Sam Rockwell in Moon, and Sandra Bullock in Gravity. Now, Adam Sandler has joined this elite list with Spaceman.

Johan Renck’s Spaceman, which is based on Jarsoslva Kalfar’s book and Colby Day’s screenplay, tells the story of Jakub Prochazka, a Czech astronaut who has gone interstellar to study a pink cloud that has been hovering near Earth, called Chopra. He is all alone on the space station. He mostly talks with Peter, who conveys his needs to the powers that be. He occasionally appears for video chats with Commissioner Tuma and the press, and that’s where he also answers questions from kids tuning in to the broadcast from all over the world. He has a wife, Lenka. Once upon a time, they were deeply in love, but with each passing day, their bond grows weaker. They have the Czech-Connect (a device that offers seamless video chatting from Jakub’s space station to Lenka’s home), but they rarely use it to communicate properly. To aid Jakub’s personal and professional problems, a spider-like space explorer enters Jakub’s spacecraft. Initially, Jakub is scared of him, but eventually, they grow to like each other. Jakub names him Hanus, and they travel to Chopra together.

Colby Day’s writing in Spaceman is pretty straightforward, to the point that it’s perplexing. He mainly tackles three topics: Jakub’s relationship with his father, his relationship with Lenka, and loneliness. Jakub is apparently driven by the ambition to alter his father’s legacy, and he wants to deal with his contradictory feelings about his commitments to his wife while also caring for her when she is not around. Somehow, the mixture of these emotions has propelled him into space, thereby making him the loneliest person in the world. Much like every film in the “sad people in space” subgenre, the solution obviously doesn’t lie in the vastness of the unknown but within oneself. Through the simple conversations between Jakub and Hanus, Colby shows how humans unnecessarily complicate their lives by thinking that they have the power to influence nothing. That’s why they establish some impossible hurdles and believe that overcoming them will justify their existence. Of course, no one can change the past. They can’t foresee the future. However, they can be present for their loved ones, give them the attention that they promised them, and communicate instead of internalizing everything.

In most movies where men achieve unbelievable targets while ignoring the repercussions of their actions, the women in the story are either portrayed as worshippers or haters. There’s no in-between. Initially, it does seem like Jakub and Lenka’s dynamic in Spaceman is going to be sexist in nature to push forth the “exceptional husband, complaining wife” agenda. But, with each passing second, it becomes clear why Lenka refuses to budge and decides to wait it out until the brave and famous Jakub realizes he is in the wrong. It’s a very explicit and stoic way of showing that, given the finiteness of our lives, we should learn to love the people around us instead of depleting the planet’s resources to do interstellar tasks that don’t need our attention. Yes, it’s heroic, but is it necessary? No, especially when it’s destroying your personal life and bringing about no real change on the global stage. As a kid, I used to think that we should pursue interplanetary travel. However, we are a species where wars, famines, pollution, and inequality are rampant. Will it be really satisfying to reach another planet when we can’t save our own? In a way, Day and Renck say, “No.”

It’s really difficult to say if Spaceman is a good-looking movie or not because Netflix’s compression is atrocious. And since the streaming platform isn’t in the business of releasing high-res physical copies of their movies (or their shows), it’s impossible to know what movies exclusively released on Netflix actually look like. Still, you can make out Jakob Ihre’s stellar compositions and use of color, the amazing production design by Jan Houllevigue, the art direction by Ryan Heck and Chris Shriver, and the pitch-perfect VFX and CGI through the garbled pixels. I love that costume designer Catherine George dressed up Adam Sandler in clothes that Sandler wears all the time in real life, i.e., oversized T-shirts and baggy gym shorts. That said, it’s Max Richter’s music, the seamless editing by John Axelrad, Scott Cummings, and Simon Smith, and the sound design that make the movie such a soothing viewing experience. They expertly echo the melancholy and anxiety that’s eroding our souls due to the atrocities that are happening all over the world and offer a hug through our small screen. And I appreciate that.

The cast of Spaceman is amazing. The movie mostly rests on Adam Sandler’s capable shoulders, and the man delivers in spades. I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but Sandler has proven that he can do comedic roles and flex his dramatic chops whenever he wants to. He isn’t bothered by the criticisms that have been leveled against him, and it’s great that he continues to show that he won’t be typecast by his fans or his haters, and he’ll take on roles that’ll cement him as one of the most versatile actors in the industry. And that’s exactly why (and also because I don’t separate the art from the artist) I wish he showed the same amount of spine when it came to his politics, which is quite bigoted, to be honest. Paul Dano’s work as Hanus is spectacular. He says everything so innocently that it’s really comforting, while also turning it up when he needs to bring Jakub to his senses. Everyone needs a friend like Hanus. By the way, if you want to watch another lonely movie with Paul Dano in it, check out Swiss Army Man. Carey Mulligan is fantastic, as usual. I actually didn’t recognize Kunal Nayyar. The man disappeared into the role without caring about how much screen time he got. Lena Olin and Isabella Rossellini’s extended cameos are nice.

Spaceman is definitely a very simplified adaptation of Spaceman of Bohemia, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It becomes pretty evident during the first act of the film that the movie doesn’t really want to challenge its viewers. Johan Renck and Colby Day only want everyone to marinate in their protagonist’s sorrows, watch him fight his internal conflicts with his alien-spider friend, and resolve his issues with the person that he loves the most so that they can get the motivation to do the same if they are stuck in a space (metaphorically) that’s similar to the one Jakub is in. If you want some more complexity, you can check out Jarsoslva Kalfar’s book. I won’t recommend doing a binge watch of all the movies that fall under the “sad people in space” subgenre because it can take a toll on your soul. But if you think you can endure all that sadness, you can pair up Spaceman with any of the aforementioned movies and have a mighty melancholic time.

The Netflix Turkish series A Round of Applause possesses the quality to remain etched in one’s memory for a while. At a time when content is generated every hour of the day, coming up with something experimental and unique deserves appreciation. With a linear narrative unfolding over decades, we get a clear understanding of our protagonists through rather surreal visuals. A discussion that has gained prominence in recent times is addressed with the help of absurd images and a hint of humor. The lack of a clear divide between reality, inner voice, and dream keeps the audience guessing at first, but the cohesive plot manages to keep it all together.

A Round of Applause reminded me of a news story that I had come across in 2019—an Indian man planned to sue his parents for giving birth to him without his consent. The media coverage helped familiarize the general public with the philosophy of anti-natalism. The concept of reproduction is criticized here because life, more often than not, involves suffering, and A Round of Applause takes a similar stance. For some, this might be too extreme to consider watching, but let me tell you that the series is layered and does not take a one-dimensional approach. It is the humor that keeps the storytelling interesting and adds depth to the plot.

Mehmet and Zeynep were excited to welcome their baby boy into their lives. As new parents, they suffered from doubt and anxiety regarding how their child would turn out to be. From a young age, their son Metin showed maturity, which was also the reason why he struggled to make friends. He could not relate to his peers and criticized the overrated notion of finding meaning in life. He never found joy in the mindless, childlike activities kids of his age engaged in, and he preferred to spend his time composing poetry. He had a way with words, and while it was a talent he was often appreciated for, his morbid subjects left his readers feeling disappointed and hopeless. Zeynep, like most mothers, expected her son to achieve greatness in life. She believed in his talent and encouraged him to reach new heights, but Metin could never get over his crippling anxiety and nihilistic approach to life. As parents, Mehmet and Zeynep had no choice but to accept that their son was different and not the beacon of hope that they had dreamt of.

Through the course of the six episodes, we get to understand Mehmet and Zeynep as individuals and also their shortcomings as a couple. We also witness the important stages in Metin’s life—from a heartbroken poet to a rebellious rapper and, ultimately, a DJ. The absurd situations are mostly imagination and, at times, wishful thinking. What works for A Round of Applause is that it does not get stuck up in its absurdity; it tactfully also builds each character. The conflict that Zeynep suffers from in the series becomes easily comprehensible because, in a short span of time, we have already learned about her character traits, and the same goes for Mehmet and Metin.

Countless series and films have addressed the complexities of a dysfunctional family, and A Round of Applause successfully provides a fresh take on it. It is the experimentation with the visual language that particularly strikes out. The minute the fourth wall is broken, the series gets all the more personal. The ending is as quirky as one would expect from such a series. Keeping in tune with its surreal visuals, the ending leaves room for interpretation. There are no right or wrong answers or conclusions in such cases, and every interpretation can be equally interesting. The focus of the series is entirely on the narrative, and the intriguing visuals help elevate the experience.

Along with an exciting script, the convincing performances make A Round of Applause worth a watch. Aslihan Gurbuz embodies the many layers of Zeynep and delivers an effective performance. Trapped between perfecting the role of a wife and a mother, there is a sense of relatability in Zeynep. Fatih Artman, as the father, Mehmet, is convincing, and he gets the humor quite right. While most of the characters are unique in their own way, Metin is downright eccentric, and Cihat Suvarioglu does a brilliant job perfecting the role. From the frustration on his face as an unborn child to a grown adult breaking down upon seeing his mother, Cihat succeeds in adding depth to the character. Even in all its absurdity, there is a sense of relatability in the characters and the plot. In recent times, there has been a visible increase in discussion about the impact of broken marriages on children. There is more awareness about how parents can negatively impact one’s childhood, and all of a sudden, generation X has found themselves at a crossroads. Even though this is not directly addressed in the series, the concept of not knowing any better becomes relevant here.

The duration of A Round of Applause felt a little longer than necessary. There is a certain repetitive quality to it, especially when it comes to ideas it hints at, but thankfully, it is not unbearable. Had there been two more episodes, the series would have lost its impact. It could have been more compact, but going by the recent trend of making unnecessarily long shows, A Round of Applause does not fall into the trap. It shows restraint by not choosing to elaborate on every aspect but nonetheless managing to deliver a story spanning decades. The series is dialogue-heavy, and at times, it does feel quite jarring. The over-explanation seemed a little unnecessary, but then again, perhaps it is done keeping in mind the large audience it aims to target.

A Round of Applause is a decent Netflix watch, and it is beyond anything that one would expect on the platform. Especially if you are someone who enjoys unconventional storytelling and wants to engage in a cerebral experience, this Turkish series is definitely recommendable. It is better to have an open mind while watching the show, considering that the ideas might be a little unconventional and contrary to one’s beliefs. The series is entertaining, and the humor helps keep everything lighthearted.