Under-ART-ed

Stumbling upon indie films on Amazon Prime is quite the surprise indeed, and though the mention of the production companies at the start of the film might suggest otherwise, the film certainly reeks of indie, and I believe this certainly needs to be considered when judging the film. Directed by Shiladitya Moulik , Mrs. Scooter (2015) has a relatively simple story which tells the tale of Aashima who moves into a new locale with her newly-wed husband Bhushan, and everything that follows after Bhushan’s untimely death. Though the film itself is rife with multiple glaring production errors hard to ignore, especially if you are attuned to the technical aspect of films, from overblown scenes, jarry transitions in places, slowing the frame rate in places in a very childlike manner reminiscent of old films which had just discovered the stylistic device (in the case of this film, the scene, where she learns of Bhushan’s death, is one such shoddily edited sequence) and even the acting gettin

Logging into Mubi on an idle evening is how I now have two posts in store, one of which I happen to be writing at the moment. Now, my previous blog post might have already hinted at the soft corner I might have for ex-CCCP countries, but don’t let it give you the idea that I go soft on any freaking work. If that were the case, I’d have been writing about a very stupid Russian crime series titled Cold Shores , but the only thing I’ll say about it is that it’s terrible (not the cinematography – but the writing, certainly, overlooking crucial points just to let the plot build). However, I intend to waste neither your time, nor mine – which is why I’ll jump right into Crystal Swan (Belarusian: Хрусмаль (Crystal)), a 2018 Belarusian feature by Darya Zhuk. Now, Darya Zhuk might be a name you haven’t heard, but she’s been in the industry for quite some time, with ten directorial credits to her name (having worked on a few series, and shorts, though Crystal Swan happens to be her first fea

Chances are – you aren’t aware of Andrei Khrzhanovsky, Garri Bardin, Vladimir Tarasov or that There Lived Kozyavin , or the harsh truth they presented – unless you grew up in the Soviet Union. Nevertheless, whilst many Disney animations lost their relevance in my life other than their obvious nostalgic worth, a weird turn of events exposed me to the lost world of Soviet animation and their ever-relevant messages as I near my legal drinking age. My first encounter with a soviet animation (stop motion), was a Facebook video, with the work’s crux dealing with the concept of miscommunication and man’s tendency to enforce one’s own understanding over another. However, if I were to try explaining the video with just my words to compensate for my inability to have retrieved the lost work, I’d just be confirming the video’s message more. Instead, I’ll thank it for having made me aware of the existence of old soviet animation, which led me down the journey of salvaging a sizeable number, if not

It wasn’t a surprise to me when my social media newsfeed was teeming with people elated about Ghibli films finally finding a place on Netflix to stay, whilst Dorohedoro – well, whilst it stayed lost somewhere in the dark, nowhere to be heard of on any Facebook posts, or anywhere in the many anime forums that I’m a part of. The only thing that got my attention was one of those small promotion windows that one views when already on the Netflix site – with the image of a slaughtered head lying on the grass with open eyes and mushrooms sprouting out of it. Sadly, I haven’t managed to find the frame anywhere on the internet, so just my words will have to do for now - but you get me by now, I believe. As a matter of fact, this is where I think, Dorohedoro’s magic lies – in making the grim so appealing. The series itself is based in a fantasy world with sorcerers and humans living in different environments with an obvious conflict of interest, as the central character – a person with a liza