NOCEBO
In NOCEBO, a fashion designer (Eva Green) suffers from a mysterious illness that confounds her doctors and frustrates her husband (Mark Strong) – until help arrives in the form of a Filipino nanny (Chai Fonacier) who uses traditional folk healing to reveal a horrifying truth.
After a mysterious phone call and a simultaneous encounter with a mangy dog riddled with ticks, Christine’s physical and mental health rapidly declines. Suffering from sleep apnea, nightmares, forgetfulness, and sharp, debilitating pains at any given moment, her already vulnerable marriage and successful fashion design career teeter on the edge of destruction. When Filipina Nanny Diana arrives at her door, Christine does not recall sending for her, but the extra set of hands proves life-changing, for better or worse.
Diana’s integration into the family lands somewhere between awkward and essential. Husband Felix and young daughter Roberta (they call her Bobs) are caught in the middle, allowing for gaslighting from Felix and growing distrust from Bobs. Add in the class distinction with Christine and her family living in a lavish mansion, while Diana arrives with nothing but a single suitcase, mostly filled not with clothing. Writer-director Lorcan Finnegan utilizes flashbacks of Diana’s life to illustrate the glaring contrast. Little by little, the audience begins to piece things together, but not before being disturbed by the effects of Diana’s folk healing methods.
Finnegan uses the color red in many specific instances; lipstick, curtains, and, most impactfully, Christine’s lucky shoes. The color is a sumptuous visual punch set against the mostly jewel-toned house. Finnegan understands the assignment.
As the story progresses and the truth reveals itself, your view of each character shifts. Eva Green plays Chrissy with both a manic and ruthless angle. She is a master at living inside the skin of a character, and Christine is no exception. Chai Fonacier is Diana. This juicy role allows us to see Fonacier’s massive range. I would watch her in all the things, as they say.
Radek Ladczuk‘s cinematography, which I loved in Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook and The Nightingale, is just as emotionally jarring in both overt and subtle forms. The closeups of hands, small objects, and facial features pull the audience into the overall mystery of Christine’s ailment and the impact of her family.
*********The next paragraph has a bit of a spoiler. Skip it to keep the mystery intact!*********
*******SPOILER ALERT*******
In the credits, just after the music tracks, I noticed bold text reading, “Justice for all Kentex workers.” A quick Google search led me to a story from 2015 in Manila in which a factory fire killed 72 factory workers after they were trapped on the second floor. Metal grates on the windows prevented them from escaping a horrifying death. We have heard so many of these same stories of unsafe sweatshop conditions. NOCEBO I pulls directly from the 2015 tragedy, making the film all the more terrorizing.
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NOCEBO boasts a jaw-dropping and shockingly dark finale. Mixing folklore and revenge horror never miss. The term “nocebo” comes from the Latin to harm. The Oxford definition reads: “a detrimental effect on health produced by psychological or psychosomatic factors such as negative expectations of treatment or prognosis.” Finnegan slickly lulls you into one genre, then pulls the rug out from underneath us. The truth will either set you free or destroy you. NOCEBO is here to remind us all.
RLJE Films will release NOCEBO in theaters on Nov. 4, 2022 and on Demand and Digital on Nov. 22, 2022. The film will stream on Shudder at a later date.
Directed by Lorcan Finnegan (Vivarium) and written by Garret Shanley (Without Name), NOCEBO stars Eva Green (Casino Royale), Mark Strong (1917), Chai Fonacier (Jesus Is Dead) and Billie Gadsdon (Cruella).
Benson and Moorhead’s use of science is a running theme in their films. It is always clever. In SOMETHING IN THE DIRT, history and math (specifically the Pythagorean theory) are quite literally written on the walls. The quick-take editing holds your attention like a vice with a mix of home videos, documentary-style sit-down interviews, visuals of whatever topic Levi and John reference, and handheld cinematography allow the audience to teeter on the edge of doc and sci-fi narrative. This is what Benson and Moorhead do; keep you on your toes from start to finish.
17-year-old Paul and his young comrades enthusiastically join the Western Front in 1918 under the guise that they will return to a hero’s welcome. The reality they are about to enter is far from ticker tape parades and medals. It is the unforgiving and bloody trench warfare of WWI. German director Edward Berger’s All Quiet on the Western Front is a breathtaking retelling of the classic 1928 novel by Erich Maria Remarque.
The unfiltered brutality of war, shocking imagery, nothing is sugarcoated. Felix Kammerer stars as our young lead Paul. The film follows his journey from enlisting by lying about his age to the day the war officially ended. Fear is the dominant feeling that runs through the narrative. The class and rank of soldiers is a striking contrast, highlighted by scenes of prideful general sitting safe in high mansions while young men and boys get slaughtered. The film opens with some of the bluntest scenes of warfare that left my jaw on the floor. 
James Friend‘s exquisite cinematography encompasses stunning framing, detailed close-ups, and natural lighting. The choice to do hand-held places the audience on the ground with the cast. It’s dizzying at times, but that’s the point. In the still moments, I found myself saying out loud, “Wow, this is beautiful.” The score is its own entity. Jarring, often electronic-sounding horn melodies and sharp state drum rhythms usher impending menace. It will be a travesty if it doesn’t get noticed during awards season.
Demi Moore plays upstairs neighbor Maureen. She’s a hot pink and animal print-drenched eccentric woman and the perfect influence on Suze, giving her permission to let go of her inhibitions. Karl Glusman is Teddy, a member of The Young Gents with an eye for Arthur. Glusman nails the classic greaser role, adding a relentless sensuality to his words. He is fantastic. 
The score is brilliant, with a mix of bass plucking, bongo drums, and saxophone wails. Short bursts of choreography smartly encapsulate the mood and era. The sets are deliciously accentuated with neon-colored everyday objects, black light hues, and engulfing blues and magenta. Everything sort of glows like a live-action comic book.
Abigail Fuller’s short film Shepherd’s Song contemplates Earth’s interconnectedness through the eyes of California grazier Jenya Schneider. Climate change threats in the west frequently come in the form of severe droughts and wildfires. Jenya and her partner Jack have chosen a cyclically beneficial lifestyle for the Earth, their clients, and themselves. Four hundred ewes, recycled fencing, and unrelenting passion comprise their venture. Grazing becomes a service to the land, and the sheep produce wool and lanolin. The science behind grazing done right shows the value to the ecosystems it serves. It’s healing the land.
A beautiful score by Serena Goransson moves from subtle to soaring as the film progresses. It feels perfect. Carmen Delaney’s mix of handheld and drone cinematography gives the audience an idea of the landscape scale against Jenya and Jack’s figures through the mountainous grasslands. It is stunning. SHEPHERD’S SONG is part climate film, part nature film, and all heart. We can all learn a whole lot from Jenya and Jack. They are showing the world how to repair the damage we’ve done, one area of grassland at a time.
Jessica Lowe is positively loathsome as influencer girlfriend Sadie. You cannot help but laugh at her ridiculously aloof behavior. Brendan Scannell as Runway Dave and Asif Ali as Angry Mike provide the added laughs to round out our group of guys. They give unforgettable performances.
The script has honest Hangover vibes. While I wish the film focused more on actual roommate scenarios and less on the wacky road trip aspect, I still laughed my ass off. The climate change aspect is subtle and pitch-perfect. Kudos to the writers for using it effectively. The numerous cameos and ancillary characters no doubt strengthen the film, from beginning to end. Rob Riggle, Flula Borg, and Parvesh Cheena leave lasting impressions. In the end, raunchy and over-the-top, BROMATES is undeniably goofy as hell. You’ll laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.
The legwork done by these women is mindblowing. The all-hours phone calls, the messages, the threats, and the intimate and honest way they approached anyone connected with Miramax and The Weinstein Company. The film conveys the emotional exhaustion of it all. Story after story of similar allegations and subsequent NDAs sucker punch you, over and over. As these cases now play out in real-time, it is fascinating to witness how to reach a victim and what compels an enabler. One particular detail I found interesting was Weinstein’s obsession with whether the team had spoken to 
Carey Mulligan
Jafar Panahi travels to a border town in order to direct a movie remotely. The actors and film crew are across the border and are taking directions via Zoom. As Panahi struggles to get the film finished he becomes involved with two sets of lovers, two of the actors, and two people in the village where he is staying. Both pairs want to flee to somewhere safe, something that might not be possible
This time out Panahi has made one of his most affecting films. Forget his personal situation, this story of life in a small town and in a repressive country will leave you shattered at the end. Panahi is juggling a lot of balls in the air and manages to manipulate them perfectly. First, we have his situation which is basically hiding out in a small town to make a movie he shouldn’t be making. In showing us what it takes to make his film we see how the small minds of the village express an openness that really isn’t. there This ties into the story of one of the couples, a doomed romance Panahi captures in a photo, that everyone wants to see, but which he deletes and denies having. It seems the young woman has been promised since birth to someone she doesn’t love and that someone needs proof to hurt the girl’s true love. At the same time, the lead couple in Pahani’s film is making a film based on their lives and their efforts to flee to the West. However, the need for official documents complicates things. All of the threads end in darkness for the characters and soul-searching for the audience.
There are moments in the film that appear unusual until you realize the larger picture. Calum frustratingly attempts to teach Sophie a self-defense technique that feels inappropriate for her age. He is unbothered by her confession of a first kiss and more focused on the fact that she felt comfortable sharing about her life. He offers her a sip of beer. What draws us into the screenplay is an intoxicating mix of awkward moments juxtaposed by a relationship one strives to have with their offspring. The care Calum expresses, the time feels weighted and invested.
Tora the Trucker Cat, truck driver David, and girlfriend Destiny travel together from state to state for months. Tora has a leash to explore national parks and a seat in David’s backpack when she needs a break. Tora has become the focus of David’s newfound photography skills. She’s a bit of a celebrity that’s allowed David to express himself in ways he never thought possible.
Sir Anthony Hopkins plays Paul’s grandfather, Aaron. Hopkins nails the role with charm and grace. He is a crucial moral compass for Paul but is also part of the broader problem. Gray explains how this microcosm of one family is just as relevant today, stating that one can be oppressed and still be an oppressor. This idea is never more true as we watch Paul begin to understand white privilege while simultaneously wrestling with his desire to be an artist and feeling unsupported, behavioral acting out, and the subsequent physical discipline.
Let me explain why the cast’s explanations became of great significance. The most successful aspect of Gray’s script is the nuance in character building. These are not sugar-coated versions of people, but characters in volatile times, racially and economically. Their flaws are exponentially recognizable, regardless of the year. Armageddon Time could be happening right now. The cynical nature of history and generational trauma will have audiences’ hearts in their throats, shaking their heads in shame for much of the film. Therein lies the film’s strongest achievement.
Justin P. Lange‘s The Visitor is an immensely enjoyable horror film populated by a protagonist who has certainly never heard this joke. Things pretty quickly go amiss when Robert (Finn Jones) relocates from London to his wife’s small town. While settling into her childhood home, Robert finds a mysterious portrait in her attic. It is of a man referred to only as “The Visitor”, and he bears a striking resemblance to Robert.
There is still much to like in The Visitor. The core performances are uniformly strong. Jones and McNamee have nice unforced chemistry, and I wished the film had given us more time with them. It is effectively paced (86 minutes!) and contains several genuinely frightful and inventive scares. I especially loved the way the film leveraged the biblical plagues without feeling the need for too much supporting exposition.
The script is relentlessly chilling. Because the audience has more information than anyone else, it feels as though the characters are sitting ducks. We are right alongside Sara as she witnesses her tormentors thrown into the back of a serial killer’s van. She says nothing, both out of fear and perhaps relief. Those that have ever been on the receiving end of horrible words and despicable actions will undoubtedly wince throughout the film.
PIGGY also speaks to the weight of parental support. We find Sara’s mother to be a nagging, uncaring shrew, while her father pays attention to her with genuine love. Her woes are exacerbated by her parents owning the local butcher shop, leading vile peers to dub her “Piggy.” One of the girls, Claudia, has a deeper connection to Sara based on her delay tactics in teasing and a matching bracelet with Sara.
The ending of the film is a double twist. The first had me yelling at the screen. The second was so shocking I audibly exclaimed, “Okay, that’s AWESOME.” Writer-director-producers 
You immediately fantasize about all the fun things you would do together. There’s an undeniably brilliant poker scene. But things get weird, and Clay has second thoughts about helping Whit for eternity. The chemistry between Whitmer Thomas and director Clay Tatum is otherworldly. Pun intended. They make awkward endearing.
The script, penned by our two leads, might seem straightforward at first but do not get comfortable with the buddy comedy genre. The Civil Dead goes in a direction I did not see coming, though, in retrospect, I should have. From hilarious to shockingly dark, the film tackles loneliness in a brutally honest way. This one is going to haunt you in the best way possible.
It’s the summer of 1948 in Redhook, Brooklyn, and the Trouth family exists in quiet peace until Louis Jr. appears after years away. Old wounds have festered, and now he’s back for revenge. Guilt is his weapon. Well, that and a unique knife with a Turkish inscription belonging to younger brother Charles. BRUTAL SEASON is like an immersive theater experience on film. This slow-burn thriller is not what I expected, in all the right ways.
Performances across the board are stellar. One is particularly inescapable. The subtle manipulation Houston Settle brings into the fray, you know he’s up to no good. Jr.’s bitterness is palpable. His passive-aggressive nature turns vicious. 
There’s no denying that BRUTALSEASON has a similar energy to 
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