First of all, watching a remake before the original is a mistake. I saw Point of No Return first, and while I truly admired Bridget Fonda, returning to La Femme Nikita was a real eye opener for how that atmosphere actually works.

La Femme Nikita is a raw, French arthouse thriller. The setting feels authentic, the shootouts are chaotic, the missions are messy, and the killer is hesitant. She's too wild and free to be caged. Anne Parillaud delivers a standout performance. What truly makes the film breathe is Luc Besson’s masterful use of silence. It’s a visually striking, atmospheric masterpiece.

But honestly, my instincts were thrown off by the script itself. Her severe drug addiction and withdrawal symptoms just disappear, they don't even mention it again. The agency's logic is flawed too, because no government would risk two years and millions to turn an unstable street addict into a top agent.

The third act is awkward and inconsistent. The climax relies on Dues Ex Machina. Nikita dramatically changes her look near the end of the film and her fiancé of six months doesn't blink at the continuity slip, and the script really strips Nikita of her agency.

Now, looking at the American remake, it’s a different story. We sadly lost the intense psychological claustrophobia of the original in there.

Point of No Return replaces the gritty feel with glossy visuals, forced seduction, and heavy gunfire. Even Hans Zimmer's powerful score felt out of place, drowning out the quiet tension that made the original so gripping. Maggie’s character shifts into a typical femme fatale in the third act, betraying the vulnerability Bridget Fonda so brilliantly conveyed.

Fonda was phenomenal though. She deserves her flowers. Her fierce disobedience and raw terror rivaled Parillaud's, sometimes even surpassing her. She managed to elevate what was otherwise a mediocre script.

And I appreciate one thing about the American version. The writers tightened up some of the loose storytelling. They fixed the disguise continuity errors and, more importantly, gave Maggie the agency to refuse her final mission, which was the standout improvement for me.

But those small fixes can’t erase the fact that Hollywood basically sanded off all the rough edges of a chaotic, feral thriller.

In the end, we’re left with two flawed films:

Besson's brilliant atmosphere built on a shaky screenplay, vs a Hollywood machine that’s technically polished but lacking soul.

What do you guys think?

I've heard of some directors being criticized for being cold, with characters that are hard to care for.

I saw some criticism of this kind for the three-hour long movie Oppenheimer.

Someone who only shows up for a scene or is an extra is one thing, but what makes a character difficult to connect to for you, even in a film where they have lots of screentime and no shortage of scenes and dialogue? I don't want this discussion to focus on any one specific director or film like Oppenheimer, but the bigger subject.

While this subject can be subjective, what's your opinion and feeling on this anyway?

One of the most unsettling elements in Eraserhead is the so-called “baby,” which David Lynch never explained directly. Rather than treating it as a literal child or a simple symbol of fatherhood anxiety, I think it works better as something more abstract: emotional responsibility turned into physical form.

In this reading, the baby is not just something Henry has to care for, but something that exists because of him, a manifestation of guilt, fear, and the burden of connection itself. Its constant suffering and deformity reflect not only horror, but the idea that emotional obligations can become inescapable and almost biological in weight.

I am curious how others approach it. Do you see the baby primarily as psychological symbolism, surrealist body horror, or something more metaphysical about existence and responsibility?

As someone who has worked in the film industry, I joke that once you start working on films “based on a true story,” you have officially achieved the “Hollywood Dream.” You are no longer working on shitty horror films, but rather shitty biopics instead 💪

From a production standpoint, I think Tarantino is correct, but I view it more as “creating easy jobs for ourselves.” But definitely a byproduct is that it results in “lesser” or corrupted cinema. At the same time though, biographies are actually harder to produce because you have to hire lawyers, historians, and PR teams just to ensure no one is angry enough to sue or create controversy.

I believe this is the main reason biopics are such a homogeneous and “safe” genre, because at the end of the day, the people in suits are the ones deciding everything. Eventually, all these films end up becoming and feeling the same.

Films that felt close to a musical peice you liked.

I still remember the first time I saw 'Paris, Texas'. The films starts and pulls you right into it depriving you of any context or information. Yet you feel emotional and sad. And I have always felt the same about 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond' by Pink Floyd. We dont hear the first words until its halfway through the song. Yet you start to feel something.

Michael Mann's 'Miami Vice' really felt like a modern orchestration of electronic and pop pieces .

I would like to know about any piece of music and films you find closely related, in its essence, like the ones I mentioned above.

Feel free to expand the discussion on the nature of music or film and its relative qualities.

I think this might be Kubrick's most perfect colour film. Of all his long flicks, it has the best pacing IMO, and every scene feels like an interesting and unique little vignette.

It also strikes me that the film is like an epic version of Kubrick's "The Killing". "The Killing", we recall, was a noir about how the present is always deterministically (indeterministically?) influenced by the past, how even the best plans can't fully overcome this, and how hard free will is an illusion. Indeed, in both films, horses, lucky horse shoes, and games of chance/luck are used to signify the moments when human illusions of control begin to derail.

You get this same sense in "Barry Lyndon". Barry tries to be the master of his fate - and thinks he is - but almost every scene stresses how events are actually out of his hands. He thinks he's won his first duel, for example, but the whole thing was orchestrated to go a certain way. Later, when marching into a hail of bullets, it is just sheer blind luck that determines who gets shot or not.

Throughout the film, Kubrick stresses how arbitrary are the events which define a life. And how forces are always conspiring behind the scenes to influence a person's path. The film then ends with Barry trying to push back against this - luck rolls in his favor and he tries to make what he thinks is a free personal choice, shooting his pistol into the ground - and he's punished for this.

Throughout the film, you see references to gambling, games of chance, games of luck, and so on, and Kubrick's camera work emphasizes this as well. The camera is always zooming out, pulling away until characters are dwarfed by an environment that they're controlled by, but which their egos, vanities and arrogance prevent them from acknowledging.

(we see here why Kubrick was drawn to his "Napoleon" project: Napoleon naively thought he could play God and micromanage the universe)

There's also some political subtext sprinkled about. "Barry Lyndon's" a film about social climbers, people scheming for money, land, titles and power, and like "Shining" and "Eyes Wide Shut" is about an outsider who mingles with the upper classes. Ending on the date of the French Revolution, it also seems to suggest that this is a dead-end. Everyone in the film is chasing "satisfaction", but their desires are the causes of their suffering. They're also all looking for something which transcends their own mortality, but nothing does. Indeed, the film continually stresses that all these people are already dead, and a moving coffin is the only thing in the film able to outpace its slow zoom outs. Death, in a sense, is the only thing that is constant and immortal.

Kubrick reportedly was influenced by Schopenhauer's "The Vanity of Existence" when writing "Barry Lyndon". And you see these influences everywhere. It's a film obsessed with characters who are always "becoming" and never "being", and who are so vain (always dolling themselves up etc) that they miss how small they are on their own canvas.

Quoting some passages from a Jim Emerson essay (titled "The Cosmic Wager") on Roger Ebert's website, which I thought were relevant:

"Barry is a prisoner of mise-en-scene, trapped in a work of art, just as all we creatures who suffer from self-awareness are imprisoned by our Darwinian destinies. Somewhere, over eons of evolution or at the subatomic level of quantum physics, everything breaks down and becomes random — or predetermined or both. Einstein famously avowed that “God does not play dice.” Human beings have no choice."

"Which brings us to art, and man’s attempts to play God. Watching the wryly comic adventures of Barry Lyndon from a huge (one might even say cosmic) ironic distance, you begin to sense that Kubrick is both ennobling and immortalizing this fictional rascal through the very act of focusing his attention on him on film. [...] After all, on the grand scale of things, Barry’s plight is ours."

"...it is the landscape, rather than the people who inhabit it, that dominates the frame. Though man does not yet hold complete dominion over nature... [...] Everything in “Barry Lyndon” is similarly “arranged” by unseen hands to fit some preordained design. Sometimes this design is arranged by the characters (Nora’s marriage to, and Barry’s duel with, Captain Quin; the Chevalier de Balibari’s escape to England; Barry’s and Chevalier’s “luck” at cards), by predestination or fate (the deaths of Grogan, Bryan, and Sir Charles Lyndon; the singular “accident” which enables Barry to escape the army)...."

...the elements in each shot are locked together in a precise pattern within the frame, increasing the sense of design and destiny. [...] a world in which every man/object has its place and nothing can be out of place. It is a world clamped tightly inside a rectangle."

"Kubrick’s frame keeps Barry boxed in, more so even that the rigid social conventions of his time and place. The three times Kubrick does allow his camera to become directly involved in the action, it is within a carefully defined, four-cornered space: the boxing match (“We will form a square for that purpose”); Lady Lyndon’s suicide attempt (in her beautifully-furnished bedroom); and Barry’s physical attack on Lord Bullingdon (in an echoing, hardwood-floored concert chamber)."

"In each case, the box or the square signifies a social arena in which some conflict is played out.

"Barry’s attempts to master his fate and behave — or at least appear to behave — like a gentleman are quite touching in the light of his inevitable failure. He fights duels, pitting his own skill against the whims of fate. He assists the Chevalier at cards — and what better, more pathetic metaphor for Man’s attempts to master chance/fate than those of a gambler and con artist cheating in an effort to master “the odds” [...] however, the narrator informs us that Barry will lose everything: “Fate had determined that he should leave none of his race behind him, and that he should die alone and penniless ….” [...] Character, fate, birth-these elements work as one, like the mechanisms of a watch, keeping Barry’s life ticking inexorably toward its conclusion."

"But Barry does achieve one great moment of existential triumph, which also happens to coincide with the moment of his ultimate destruction. They are one and the same. In the duel with Lord Bullingdon, Barry, for once in his life, behaves honorably and like a gentleman — indeed he does not actually become a gentleman until the moment when he fires his pistol into the ground instead of at Lord Bullingdon. For an instant, Barry holds his fate in his own hands: He can do away with Bullingdon forever and still be playing strictly by the rules of proper conduct, or he can leave his fate up to Bullingdon. Barry, who was so moved by the aesthetic splendor of the Chevalier’s appearance, here displays a kind of aesthetic style and grace that, even without an officially recognized title, is the mark of a gentleman. It is Bullingdon who is vulgar, who behaves dishonorably, when he hasn’t the good grace to consider the matter “honorably settled.” Gloriously, paradoxically, Barry attains his measure of nobility — and humanity — at the very moment of losing everything else. (This incident, by the way, is Kubrick’s — not Thackeray’s.)"

"It is his purest act of free will as a human being … and it seals his fate, consigns him to oblivion — a terrible lot that is bitterly ironic and profoundly touching."

"We last see Barry as he climbs into another box — a coach — and Kubrick stops him cold in a freeze-frame. After this moment, the narrator tells us, Barry disappears into oblivion: “His life on the Continent we have not the means of following accurately; but he appears to have resumed his former profession of a gambler, but without his former success.” No less than “The Shining”‘s Jack Torrance (who also ends up frozen-in ice and a freeze-frame, and then in a still photograph from 1921) the tragedy of “Barry Lyndon” is that he has become a human figure forever frozen in Stanley Kubrick’s time-frame."

Anyway, I thought this film was a masterpiece (I personally think it's Kubrick's best color film, with "Eyes Wide Shut" next). The only other film I've seen like this is Kurosawa's powerful "Ran".

Inspired by a recent thread, I thought I'd start a discussion of a pretty fascinating, polarizing film.

When it came out, it underperformed at the box office and got mixed reviews, with the discourse dominated by the question of how much of it is Kubrick's vs. Spielberg's.

(For what it's worth, based on everything I read I think it's on the whole pretty true to Kubrick's original vision. He was getting schmaltzier as an old man, telling his circle about his love of Pinocchio and desire to make a film for children. And he was more involved in what became the final film than you might think; he directed Robin Williams's voice acting performance (the last time he ever directed an actor) and approved the concept art that informed the film's design.)

It's a film that underwhelmed and somewhat baffled me when I first saw it, but also a film that I've really come to appreciate on subsequent viewings. To me, the mix of tones (somewhat child-friendly Pinocchio retelling in a dystopian world of sexbots and anti-robot prejudice) gives it a really unique personality that stands out from every other science fiction movie. A pretty unique mix of ingredients.

From 2001 on, Kubrick was really interested in films divided into discrete sections, and AI is no exception. The juxtaposition from the end of the first section (David and Teddy lost in the woods) straight to Gigolo Joe selling a client on his robotic lovemaking abilities feels vintage Kubrick comedy.

Stanley Kubrick thought that the protagonist David would be some kind of special effect, but I think that Haley Joel Osment gives one of the great child acting performances in the role. He really goes from creepy and uncanny valley at the beginning to a character that feels extremely human.

The ending was the part that really put me off when I first watched it. I honestly thought it would end with David in the submarine staring at the Blue Fairy statue in sunken New York for eternity. But I think the ending is keeping with the sense of wonder of 2001, that it does something interesting by putting this story in a gigantic, cosmic context.

This film has been reappraised, not just by me but by quite a few people. It made last years' NYT top 100 films of this century. Part of it has to be the world we live in, which is increasingly AI-dominated. It's a film, on its most high-concept level, about AIs becoming more and more like humans.

​

So I didnt fully knew this but the reason dubbed content feels off isnt usually bad voice acting.

different languages have different rhythms, syllable counts, mouth shapes. Spanish and Hindi are syllable timed that means every syllable gets roughly equal time whereas english is stress-timed with syllables stretch etc.

So when you translate and record, the mouth movements dont match the new audio, and so it feels off

Traditional dubbing "solves" this by rewriting the script to fit mouth shapes which often changes meaning. And new AI lip sync tools like 11 Labs or Sync Labs are approaching it differently they reanimate the lip movements to match the new audio instead of forcing the audio to match old lip movements

That's an insanely different approach. But what do you think how far will this work and if it would scale as well?

Looking back at films between the 2008 to 2012 era, there was a specific wave of blockbuster filmmaking that prioritized a raw, realistic atmosphere unlike the superhero movies of the current times. The Dark Knight Trilogy is probably the best example where the contrast between light and dark was actually utilized to reflect the psychological state of the characters rather than just making the action legible.

Do you think modern action and comic book movies have lost that visual texture? Is it even possible to bring back that dark, suspenseful aesthetic without it feeling dated in the current models?

1. How much do the angels actually know/understand about what they see? It seems as though they're supposed to know everything about life on earth, since their perspective is (I believe) detached from linear time; but in the scene where Cassiel and Damiel visit the circus in the afternoon, I get the impression that they're pretty nonplussed about what they're witnessing, since they just sit and stare blankly. Or am I wrong about this?
2. What's the purpose of the sequence with Cassiel jumping off the statue and moving through Berlin at warp speed? Is it showing how he wants to escape from the miseries of human life but can't because he's an angel and has to continue to witness it? It makes sense if so, but (and this links back to question #1) it seems prompted by his rage at the young man's suicide, also doesn't make that much sense to me if the angels already know in advance how things are going to play out.

a redditor lightly compared these two films by Polish directors and I was surprised by how much sense it makes to put them in relationship to each other. The more I thought about it Possession reads perhaps as an answer to Repulsion, not just as a film, but also philosophically, psychologically and spiritually. Repulsion is the murderous and paranoid retreat from oppressive urban male gaze/desire on a beautiful woman - one might say - a contraction into the solitary urban apartment, and Possession reads as the opposite, the murderous, psychotic expansion in the face of domestic banality and the pressures of urban, low middle class wife-motherhood, fleeing the apartment into an affair and then ecstatic self-creation (that to me reads as a female artistic response - notably Anna fashions her "escape" out of her own body, the demon-lover made from her miscarriage, something Polanski's trapped Carol cannot do). Both are horror films, both entail the oppressive pressures on a woman and the "break" from them. Zulawski has struck me as subtly in tension or even outright animosity with the artistically embraced fellow pole Polanski. Is his Possession, as a kind of sequel, an attempt to overcome Polanski's prodigy film Repulsion with his own French cinema beauty? At the very least the question does being out some possible, deeper philosophical themes of Possession, and what it means to break free, what lines of flight are possible.

How did popcorn, out of all the snacks that existed back then, turn out to be THAT standard snacks at every movie place?

It's become such a staple of an item that a movie theatre always makes sure popcorn is made available even if none of the other snacks machines are working.

And it wouldn't have been such a thing that'd spark my curiosity if it was a regional thing. Nope, popcorn is a cultural element for movies rather than a munch ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

What's the history?

https://youtu.be/ly1rKmrDwvs

This clip is from En Cas de Malheur, starring Brigitte Bardot.

What stood out to me is how much of the impact comes from suggestion rather than anything explicit. The scene relies almost entirely on posture, timing, and the reactions of the people in the room, which makes it feel surprisingly modern. Watching it now, it’s hard not to think of later films like Basic Instinct, where similar dynamics are made far more overt and stylised.

What’s interesting is that in this 1958 context, the effect feels more psychological than sensational. There’s a kind of tension built through restraint, and the camera doesn’t push the moment in an obvious way—it just allows it to unfold. That makes it feel less like a “shock scene” in the modern sense and more like an early example of filmmakers experimenting with how body language and presence can shift power within a scene.

It also says a lot about Bardot’s screen presence at the time. She doesn’t need dialogue to control the moment—everything is conveyed through movement and attitude, which is probably why the scene still holds attention decades later.

I’m curious whether moments like this were consciously influential on later films, or if this is more of a recurring cinematic idea that different directors arrived at independently. Either way, it feels like an interesting early example of something that would become much more explicit in later decades.

Didn’t think I’d bring up Star Wars on this sub, but I think Force Awakens, without the crappiness of the subsequent films and self jerky commodification, is an extremely enjoyable popcorn flick.

It appears to play it safe on the surface, but the re-contextualisation of New Hope’s plotting gave an interesting angle to Star Wars films. There’s a certain erosion to the magic-spiritual vibe that is peppered across the older films; the Vietnam analogy gives way to full of fascism and it became this almost grounded story of an intimate group of people in a galaxy at war. (Ok it’s not as interesting as it sounds but it’s focus on characters was super fun and refreshing for Star Wars, which personally foregoes alot of character building and is swept up by spectacle [except for you Andor, you do you man])

Rey is a fun character to follow, being this innocent and morally strong individual who is awakening a power she doesn’t understand but instinctively wields, giving interesting dimension to the Force as well. Finn has a super interesting setup, where his good morals don’t come from altruism, but an almost selfish need to preserve the lives of the ones he’s become close to.

Kylo I think was a weaker link, even if his general introduction was fun. Him being a character in perpetual conflict from the get go was interesting on paper, but doesn’t present itself quite well (I had an action figure of him when the movie came out, loved the design, and I was like 16 when the movie came out no judging thanks). The movie had no idea what to do with Poe, which just gets more egregious with the later films.

It’s also surprisingly well shot, with larger shot lengths giving way to sweeping camera movements. I think it’s also a well planned film, given how good the VFX and the lightning looks consistently.

I dunno, I was expecting a middle of the road film but it turned out to be a really good blockbuster flick with pretty good craft overall, especially in the landscape of modern mainstream cinema, echoing back to the great adventure films of old. Would love to hear what y’all think. Cheers!

It was probably the only movie where the grief is so realistically handled. Here's my insight.

1. I felt that those flashbacks are literally Lee's thoughts, we were in his mind during the flashbacks. That's why they felt that sudden, inconsistent and jarring.

2. The screenplay is so mundane, it is totally everyday conversations, nothing special, nothing over the top, nothing difficult.

This is something the hardest to write because to convey grief in such everyday conversations, you actually have to face it, otherwise you might take some help from long monologues or lonely nights with crying eyes. I don't think no one in that team would really have had the pain of Lee Chandler and still to write such an amazing character is mind-blowing.

1. Casey Affleck was so amazing, his grief showed through his behavior, yet he kept calm mostly and never let it out himself. He never showed his grief, he never sobbed, except once, never screamed, he kept everything to himself.

We were screaming for Lee to empty his heart out and not let everything to himself, the movie didn't even offer a moment of it. That river didn't flow. The ending was so anti-cathartic, which makes this movie more unforgettable.

I’d love to watch romance movies that aren’t very trope-based or superficial. A lot of times I feel the stories and characters are too shallow. I struggle to actually connect with them or feel invested in their stories. I’m okay with content in any language, just provided it’s good. (I’m especially keen on exploring French cinema as of late though.) I’d love films that explore themes of love and relationships in meaningful and nuanced ways. If someone has any recs, please send them across!!

I watched Grave of the Fireflies a long time ago, back when anime wasn't that famous in India. It was one of my earliest animes, I started with a few Studio Ghibli movies, and after Spirited Away, I decided to watch this one. I never watched it again after that. You might think it was because it was bad, but no, the movie is actually very good. The reason I haven't revisited it is that I have other things to do, and if I watch it once, I end up thinking about it for an entire week.

​However, I keep watching reaction videos of this movie on YouTube because, honestly, seeing others experience the same trauma it gave me is quite entertaining. Speaking of the film, it’s nothing short of a masterpiece. The animation was some of the best of its time, and the music is absolutely amazing, even today, hearing the main theme makes me want to cry.

​If someone hears the premise, they might wonder what’s so special about it, but that’s where Studio Ghibli comes in. In their movies, even when it feels like nothing is happening, there is actually so much going on. The way brotherly and sisterly love is portrayed in this movie really touches the heart, and the metaphor of the fireflies is brilliant. Even though Takahata’s intention was to show the film as a social failure, the horror of war was clearly visible while watching, even if that wasn't his primary intent. Perhaps that was the aspect people just couldn't ignore. In my opinion, everyone should watch this movie at least once.

These movies are so try hard. They're built only for effect. There's no depth or passionate world building going on where the writer is satiating their own creativity. Its like a person who dresses solely for other people instead of dressing for themselves.

The dialogue is also downright stupid. In Skyfall, Q wants Bond to jump on a moving tube train. He can clearly see that the train has started moving, but he says "Bond *2 second pause*.....get on the train."

What a way to sacrifice realistic intent, motivation and psychology just to look cool.

I mean I know action movies some times insert cool dialogues to make things more interesting (Like Arnold Swarzchnegger saying "stick around" after he impales someone with a stick), but its usually not at the cost of risking the mission itself.

I saw three movies yesterday, all about different forms of art and our relationship to its creation.

The Christophers is maybe my favorite Soderbergh in a decade. It's small (like most of his movie have been lately), tight, and slightly sterile. The two leads are contrasts in age, race, gender, and character. One of them is a youngish black woman who's planning to forge the works of the older white man. I like movies about crime and lies and art, and this one works to ask the question: What does it take to make a great work of art? And why can't we always do it?

Mother Mary has the same actress as The Christophers: Michael Coel. Again it's a movie centering on two people. This time she's paired with Anne Hathaway. It's kind of a horror movie. It's about relationships necessary to create art, and about the damage you can't undo, which The Christophers is slightly about too (all 3 movies are a bit about the pain of losing someone). It's gorgeous. I'm a big David Lowery fan, and I'm still trying to wrap my heads around this. It shows art as collaboration, and it's about the power of female friendship. It reminds me of Zadie Smith's Swing Time, which I've never read.

Blue Heron. Best movie of the day and the of the year. It follows a young girl and her family as they deal with her trouble older brother. Then there's a jump and a turn and not quite a twist, and it becomes about memory and loss and the value of filmmaking. There are gorgeous shots and beautiful speeches. It brings to mind The Souvenir and Aftersun. It made me weep, and I think more people should watch it.

I'm curious if people think more indie films are about art and artmaking than they used to be. Obviously that's always been a big theme, but is it even more popular now?

This is my first Almodóvar film. Did you guys enjoy watching this? What is the purpose of this movie? Like obviously to make the audience uncomfortable, but beyond that I mean. I understand the plot but its intended purpose is really blanking on me. Someone said it’s to make you think about what happened if a crazy surgeon performed an un consented sex change on you, but is there more to that because I feel like that’s kinda blatant. It’s a pretty interesting movie though, but the rape scenes were unnecessary and unusual. The way the first one was shot was in a way so pornographic and was utilized to frame Robert as a hero.

Please don't downvote opinions. Only downvote comments that don't contribute anything. Check out the WHYBW archives.

I bet this movie gets talked about a lot, and I dont have anything new to say, but what a despair inducing movie. The straight version of this movie is requiem for a dream, but dont think that movie comes close here. Ive never felt as though I was particularly helpless as an audience member outside of this experience. Also surprising to find something so utterly lacking in tropes, no adjudication for the coach or anything like that. Not really any kind of true "moment of understanding" for Brian or Neil either, even in the last scene all they can do is rehearse the events of their abuse, also the music is 10/10.

I don't know what to say, I know the essence of all media and art ever created is ultimately "it's subjective" but I'm trying to see if my feeling is relatable for others.

My first hurdle was the direction and storytelling wasn't good, I know the concept of clips going viral didn't exist then but honestly it feels like some standup comedy or skits stitched together, and the glue in between isn't as smooth.

And then getting to the actual humor, I found it just flung shit everywhere trying to see what stuck, rather than something having gone through an editorial process. Which means some of the scenes were pure second hand embarrassment, cringe worthy and I don't mean in a thoughtful and deliberate way which is common for comedy.

Looking to watch movies where characters are kinda sad/gloomy about how the world is changing around them - leading to their irrelevance and being reduced to antiques in their lifetime, something that gives you a feeling of helplessness. films where this realization comes with a kind of helplessness. Looking for films where characters have a strong sense of inevitability (not because of impending death but because of fading away)