THE MORNING LIST
In this week between two holidays, the cinema strives to entertain us with the return of a comedy, more than twenty years old, as burlesque as it is irreverent ( Mary at all costs ) and, for the youngest, the release of a deliciously old-fashioned animated film telling the story of a thwarted friendship between a dog and his robot ( My Friend Robot ). The rooms also promise us an invasion of spiders who do not just create fear ( Vermins ) and a chronicle of Japanese society by Kore-eda ( Innocence ).
“Vermin”: in the city, pests are not where we expect them
Reptiles, amphibians and arachnids… In his room, Kaleb, 30, houses all kinds of small exotic animals, in around ten vivariums heated with artificial light. One evening, returning from the grocery store where he thought he had gotten a good deal, he brought back a spider, so beautiful that he nicknamed it Rihanna. But, the next day, the diva escaped, made a victim and began to procreate. While venomous specimens have invaded the building, Kaleb (Théo Christine, fantastic) and his gang will have to fight to survive.
We think of Tarantula (1955), by Jack Arnold, by Arachnophobia (1990), by Frank Marshall, by Starship Troopers (1997), by Paul Verhoeven, with the difference that Sébastien Vanicek, for his first feature film, does not use not to hairy tarantulas or globose black widows. In Vermines , the spiders are so small that they slip everywhere, making the mark of a filmmaker, whose sureness of line does not give in to an overkill of special effects but plays on something more invisible, in the service of entertainment with a social and political emanation. Mr. Dl
“Innocence”: adolescence in the narrative cubism of Kore-eda
Minato, the young hero of the latest film by the Japanese Kore-eda, is a slightly strange teenager, fatherless, crossed by dark thoughts, subject to worrying school vicissitudes, who worries his mother, who does not help nothing on the board by sacrificing his life for his well-being. It is therefore immediately to this double burden of the child – that of the rigidity of Japanese society and that of the overprotection of this young widow – that we are tempted to relate these evils.
We will not be wrong, except that the director embroiders around this central line a staging which obscures the motif and which creates a succession of stories which contradict and enrich each other before offering an image more lasting of the reality that the film reveals to us. This narrative cubism thus reveals through successive interlockings the point of view of the mother, that of the teacher and that of the young boy himself.
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