• IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt5180504
• Platform: NETFLIX

Rottentomatoes Rating

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Transitions (S05E04)

Airdate: January 27th 2008

Written by: Ed Burns Directed by: Dan Attias

Running Time: 58 minutes

The fifth and final season of The Wire, compressed into a mere ten episodes, represented an unprecedented narrative gamble. Stripped of the expansive canvas that defined its earlier seasons, it necessitated a brutal acceleration of plotlines, forcing significant character arcs to conclude with jarring speed and others to vanish abruptly from the stage. This structural constraint, a phenomenon not entirely alien to the concluding season of The Sopranos, profoundly shapes the fourth episode, Transitions, written by Ed Burns. Burns adopts an almost ruthless economy, orchestrating not one, but two pivotal departures of major figures whose absences would irrevocably alter the trajectory of Baltimore’s fractured ecosystems.

The first departure, that of Commissioner Ervin Burrell, arrives with the grim predictability of a long-overdue reckoning. His removal was scarcely a shock; the Hamsterdam debacle in Season Three had effectively signed his professional death warrant within the logic of any semblance of functional governance. Indeed, even the abysmal handling of the row houses used for gangland slayings in Season Four – a scandal that would have toppled a commissioner in a city operating with even minimal competence – should have sealed his fate years prior. The true indictment of Baltimore’s dysfunction lies precisely in the time it took. Despite the ascension of the ostensibly reform-minded Mayor Tommy Carcetti, city’s entrenched web of incompetence, patronage, and outright corruption led to Burrell clung to power far longer than any semblance of "orderly" or "civilised" political process would permit elsewhere.

This development, one might assume, would fill Cedric Daniels, Burrell’s designated successor, with unalloyed relief or even triumph. Yet, Burns masterfully subverts expectation. Daniels is not jubilant; he is genuinely terrified. His fear stems from the very real prospect of the humiliated commissioner unleashing long-buried skeletons from Daniels’ own past – potential compromises made during his rise through the ranks of the Baltimore Police Department. This anxiety, however, proves largely unfounded, revealing Carcetti’s cold political calculus. To secure his own future – specifically, a viable run for Governor – Carcetti must first appease Burrell’s powerful former allies: the influential Black ministers and City Council President Nerese Campbell. Appeasement, in this Baltimore, demands tangible concessions. Burrell is granted a golden parachute – a lavish pension and the hollow, honorary title of "City Crime Advisor" – while deals likely favourable to the shady business interests of Campbell’s donors are quietly brokered. Only once this political detente is secured does the transition occur: William Rawls ascends to Commissioner, and Daniels, appointed Deputy Commissioner, finally occupies the chair from which he will replace Rawls within months. His quiet, fleeting smile in that moment is less a celebration of principle and more a weary acknowledgment of surviving another round in the city’s brutal power game – a triumph rendered inherently fragile by the circumstances that enabled it.

The departure of the second major figure, however, resonates with far greater seismic force and tragic weight. Proposition Joe Stewart, the Eastside’s urbane, philosophically inclined drug lord, commands respect through a blend of business acumen, community investment, and carefully calibrated violence. The episode opens with Joe genuinely distraught over the death of his old associate, Butchie. Yet, the critical question hangs: will Omar Little, the avenging angel of the corners, believe Joe’s protestations of innocence? Omar’s return to Baltimore, his violent interrogation of Slim Charles seeking confirmation of Joe’s guilt, underscores the precariousness of Joe’s position. Slim Charles, demonstrating remarkable loyalty and political skill, manages to temporarily assuage Omar’s fury, convincing him Joe was not responsible. However, this reprieve proves illusory. Joe’s authority is already visibly eroding, most tellingly during the New Day Co-Op meeting where his lieutenant and nephew, Cheese, brazenly talks out of turn, challenging Joe’s leadership. Marlo Stanfield, the ever-observant predator, perceives this fracture instantly. Seizing the moment, he bypasses Joe entirely, returning to the Greeks with a direct offer: cash for an independent supply line. Vondas expresses skepticism, but the enigmatic Greek, guided solely by ruthless business calculus, makes the fatal decision. Joe’s recent sloppiness – allowing himself to be robbed – marks him as a liability; Marlo’s sheer, terrifying violence presents a more reliable, if dangerous, alternative. Fearing Omar remains a threat, Joe prepares to flee, but his attempt to escape the consequences of the game he played ends not with exile, but with a bullet to the head from Chris Partlow, delivered with chilling finality on Marlo’s orders.

These two monumental shifts – the political and the criminal – inevitably crowd out other narrative threads, most detrimentally the season’s ostensible focus: the decline of The Baltimore Sun. The newspaper’s storyline is reduced to fragmented vignettes: editor Gus Haynes lamenting how buyouts and cutbacks have stripped the paper of experienced reporters capable of properly covering Burrell’s dismissal; his frustration that television, not print, secured the scoop of State Senator Clay Davis’s perp walk (a move orchestrated by the politically ambitious State’s Attorney Bond to secure state, not federal, prosecution); and the pitiful spectacle of Scott Templeton attempting to land a job at The Washington Post by trashing his current employer. These moments feel less like integral plot points and more like hurried signposts, underscoring the media’s decay but lacking the depth and integration afforded to similar critiques in earlier seasons. Similarly, Jimmy McNulty and Lester Freamon’s increasingly outrageous serial killer hoax continues apace. They exploit the services of patrolman Oscar Requer (Roscoe Orman), who directs them to fresh corpses among the homeless, enabling them to desecrate the dead – using false teeth to fake murder evidence – in their morally bankrupt quest for relevance. This descent culminates in Beadie Russell finally confronting McNulty about the ruinous trajectory of their relationship, a moment of human consequence amidst the procedural madness.

Transitions also consciously threads callbacks to Season Two, reinforcing the series’ cyclical nature. The reappearance of the Greeks provides the direct link, but the more poignant echo arrives with Johnny "Fifty" Spamanto (Jeffrey Pratt Gordon), the former port checker now reduced to a pathetic, drug-addled fixture among the very homeless McNulty exploits. His presence is a stark, silent indictment of the systemic failures that first shattered the port community and now consume the entire city.

Directed with characteristic precision by Dan Attias (who deservedly won the DGA Award), Transitions? largely succeeds despite the journalism subplot’s distracting thinness. It paints an even bleaker portrait of Baltimore’s future than previous seasons dared. Carcetti’s capitulation to the old order – his humiliating, likely corrupt concessions to Burrell’s allies – reveals the hollowness of his reformist veneer. Daniels’ smile in Rawls’ shadow is a moment of fleeting personal victory, yet The Wire has relentlessly taught us that such triumphs within these broken systems are invariably short-lived, pyrrhic victories at best. Most damningly, Baltimore is unequivocally a worse place after Marlo’s final, silent move against Joe. Marlo’s ascension as the undisputed, utterly ruthless master of the corners signifies descent into a more primal, less predictable, and infinitely more dangerous order.

The episode’s most indelible scene is undoubtedly Proposition Joe’s execution. Robert F. Chew delivers a masterclass in quiet desperation – Joe’s initial calm, his pragmatic attempt to reason, his final, almost resigned plea, and his ultimate, silent acceptance as he closes his eyes. This profound humanity is met with Jamie Hector’s chilling counterpoint. Marlo’s face remains utterly impassive, devoid of triumph, anger, or even recognition. Hector portrays not a monster in the traditional sense, but the embodiment of pure, calculating, robotic evil – the logical endpoint of a system that rewards only cold, efficient violence. This scene resonates with unbearable power. In contrast, the earlier confrontation between Daniels and Burrell, while thematically relevant, feels comparatively theatrical. Burrell’s silent, golf-club-wielding posture, the unspoken threat of violence dissolving into the mundane act of hitting a ball, borders on heavy-handed symbolism, lacking the devastating subtlety of Joe’s demise.

Yet, amidst this pervasive gloom, Transitions locates a shard of unexpected, fragile humanity. Herc, seemingly fully corrupted while working for defence lawyer Maurice Levy, engages in casual, almost friendly banter with Marlo Stanfield in Levy’s office – a moment suggesting his complete moral surrender. However, later, when Carver tells him about breaking the sacred blue wall to report Officer Colicchio’s brutalisation of a schoolteacher, Herc chooses to support Carver. This small act, born of loyalty to a friend rather than principle, signifies that even within the most compromised individuals, and within the most degraded systems, the faintest embers of connection and conscience can still flicker. It is a desperately needed, though minor, counterpoint to the overwhelming darkness of the episode’s central transitions – a reminder that while institutions crumble and power shifts with brutal efficiency, the human capacity for choice, however flawed, endures.

RATING: 7/10 (+++)

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Tengo que decir que la trama es bastante buena, todo gira en torno al misterio y a, como el nombre de la serie indica, "cosas extrañas" que pasan en un pequeño pueblo estadounidense. Tenemos varios protagonistas, sin embargo creo que los principales son nuestros cuatro niños

Uno de ellos se "pierde" y los tres amigos restantes se obsesionan con encontrarlo ya que sospechan que no todo esta perdido, más aun cuando "Once" una niña rara con poderes se une a ellos ayudandoles con su misión

La verdad es qu una de las cosas que más me gustó fue el desarrollo de trama, subtrama y personajesy coo al final todos se relacionan hasta llegar al mismo fin (atrapar a la cosa que anda suelta y que se ha llevado a personas conocidas de nuestros personajes) nada se ve forzado, todo avanza de manera muy natural asi que es un punto a favor

La ambientación es bastante buena, literalmente nos sentimos en los años 80's la música, los escenarios, los carros, etc todo está muy bien cuidado

El diseño de la criatura de esta temporadame pareció bastante cool, además que la forma en la que se mueve a través del tiempo y el espacio me hizo recordar mucho a Silent Hill... ALERTA DE SPOILER A CONTINUACION EN ESTE PARRAFO... ya que el monstruo hace una especie de dimensión distorcionada, diferente y opresiva del lugar donde te secuestra y en ese lugar al final todos los escenarios se conectan, pero incluso el efecto de cenizas cayendo del suelo, me hicieron recordar muchísimo de la otra dimensión de Silent Hill, inclusole llaman en la serie "el otro lado" como solemos llamar a esa dimensión en el juego

Y bueno, gente, esto ha sido todo por el post de hoy, espero que les haya gustado. Muchas gracias como siempre por apoyar mi trabajo, le doy la bienvenida a los nuevos lectores, les quiero mucho a todos, les envío un abrazo y ya nos encontraremos en otro post

La imagen de portada la realicé en Canva.

It tells a story about Bonnie, who runs a food truck business selling noodles in the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. It was at the brink of the MCO and also the annual Hungry Ghost Festival.

Her uncle dropped by her food truck and had a chat. Then she drove back to her hometown in Behrang, Perak just to find out that her uncle actually passed away.

Bonnie possesses the special gift of seeing the dead since she was a kid. She almost forgotten about it and now she just got a reminder of that.

The film slowly unfolds Bonnie’s background story. She learnt about the art of making noodles from her parents running the kopitiam and noodle shop in the town of Behrang, since she was small. They inherited the business from her grandmother. The MCO, Hungry Ghost Festival, and her special gift are used nicely as literary device to take Bonnie through her character redemption arc, which leads her to make amends for her past and with her father.

Lies not so deep in the subtext is about first learning from the older generation’s wisdom, before going forward into the future blind and unguided. Bonnie rushes into doing her food truck business mainly because she was dissatisfied with her father, especially after her mother’s death, which led to the eventual closure of their inherited Kopitiam business.

Oh, the pandemic. How that has shaped all of our lives.

This film is also a subtle critique of the decline of the Malaysian’s ‘pekan koboi’ state of economics, which many young generations have tried to breathe new life into. One way (in Bonnie’s case), is by transforming it into a food truck business, a franchise, or a brand. But unfortunately, that takes out the whole charm, romance, and soul of the whole thing. We have to stop trying to mechanise and computerise everything, and sometimes sticking to the roots and the core originality and identity of it all is the best way to go.

That shot sequence of the old abandoned dining table, shown to rewinds slowly into its glorious past. Ahh. Don’t we all miss the old days. But it is also about moving forward, the right way. By not forgetting who you are and where you come from.

The love how the song performed by Keat Yoke Chen, who also plays Bonnie, binds together with the story and the narrative. I love Eric Chen's performance as a patient and stoic yet loving father. And like how Bonnie’s dead uncle, played by Sam Chong, said about the parallel between her father’s character and durians. Even though it's spiky on the outside and stinks on the surface, beneath it is soft flesh and blood.

And I love how durians are used as allegories in many Malaysian literature - in comic strip, ‘It’s a Durian Life’ by C.W. Kee, the infamous film ‘The Big Durian’ by Amir Muhammad. ‘Rivers of Exploding Durians’ by Edmund Yeo and none other than ‘Snow in Midsummer’, where it also uses the supernatural as a narrative, and it breaks open a durian with blood in it in the poster.

Perhaps it is a lamentation and a perfect allegory of being alienated in a land of your birth. It is ever so tricky now in being independent with a system that feeds on division instead of unity. The stance of living in it is a mark of acceptance of its absurdism. Despite the ‘foul smell’, we all rejoice in its bittersweetness as a seasonal ‘plat du jour’. Oh, the irony. Life has to go on.

During a recent FINAS programme, the participants recognises that race-based fragmentation of the film industry is the main reason why we are at this state. But a poetry in a fiction such as this will not be possible without it. Its blessing in disguise.

The poster is actually showing a wish of most of us for all to have a ‘makan-makan’ for another time, like the good old days. Ahhh the inner yearning towards nostalgia in all of us. Yet the Buddhism teaching of living in a present before it changes in becoming the past. Living in regrets for the loss is not they way.

Just like how Sam Chong’s ghostly character saying it to Bonnie, now he also doing it to us all post-humously, through this film. I was shocked to learn of his death after watching this film. May his soul rest in peace.

This film has been shot in glorious Malaysian colors. It premiered in the Bucheon International Fantastic Film Festival on June 30th 2023 and was subsequently awarded the NETPAC Award for the best Asian feature film. A great start for We Jun Cho in his debut!

It is still on Netflix!

Official Trailer

Grand cinema masters, particularly those who honed their formidable skills during Hollywood’s formative decades, were consummate professionals capable of delivering potent, polished cinema even when personal enthusiasm waned. His 1950 Western Rio Grande, frequently dismissed as the weakest link in his revered Cavalry Trilogy, nonetheless emerges as a structurally sound, visually arresting work that continues to satisfy ardent admirers of the classic Hollywood Western. While overshadowed by its predecessors, Rio Grande is far from a mere contractual obligation; it is the product of a master craftsman operating at a high level of professional competence, even when the project itself held little intrinsic fascination for him.

Rio Grande functions nominally as a sequel to Ford’s 1948 Fort Apache, the trilogy’s inaugural chapter. However, its narrative foundation stems from James Warner Bellah’s 1947 Saturday Evening Post story "Mission with No Record," adapted by screenwriter James Kevin McGuinness. Bellah’s tale, itself loosely inspired by the controversial 1873 U.S. Cavalry raid across the Mexican border in pursuit of Kickapoo raiders, provides the historical scaffolding. The film transposes this volatile border tension to circa 1879.

John Wayne reprises his role as Kirby Yorke, now promoted from Captain (as seen in Fort Apache) to Lieutenant Colonel. Yorke commands a depleted cavalry regiment stationed along the Rio Grande, tasked with shielding vulnerable settlers from relentless Apache incursions originating from both sides of the porous border. His operational capacity is crippled by chronic shortages of men and matériel, compounded by a rigid political prohibition against crossing the river into Mexican territory during pursuits – a constraint that proves strategically disastrous.

Yorke’s professional burdens intertwine painfully with personal turmoil. Among newly arrived recruits is Jefferson Yorke (Claude Jarman Jr.), his estranged teenage son, expelled from West Point for academic failure and having enlisted in defiance of his father’s wishes. The situation escalates when Kathleen Yorke (Maureen O’Hara), Kirby’s fiercely proud Southern wife and Jefferson’s mother, arrives at the remote outpost. Her mission is to extract her son from military life and restore him to civilian society, a plea vehemently rejected by both stubborn men, igniting a bitter familial conflict over Kirby's burning of Kathleen's plantation during the Civil War that mirrors the larger struggle against the Apaches.

Complications multiply with the arrival of Travis Tyree (Ben Johnson), one of the raw recruits. Tyree is revealed to be a fugitive wanted for manslaughter back East. Fearing imminent arrest, he deserts the post. Yet, when a devastating Apache raid strikes Yorke’s outpost – freeing a captured chief and, later, abducting a wagonload of soldiers’ children – Tyree unexpectedly returns. His intimate knowledge of the terrain and the Apache band’s movements proves indispensable. This act of redemption, coupled with the sheer scale of the atrocity, finally compels General Phil Sheridan (J. Carrol Naish) to override political constraints. He authorises Yorke to lead an expedition across the Rio Grande into Mexico to rescue the children, with Tyree providing the crucial intelligence needed for the mission’s success.

Crucially, Ford undertook Rio Grande with palpable reluctance. Historical accounts consistently indicate he viewed it primarily as a means to appease Republic Pictures and secure financing for The Quiet Man (1952), a deeply personal Irish romantic comedy close to his heart. Dubbed a "vacation picture" by some, it was reportedly produced on a shoestring budget – roughly half Ford’s usual scale – and shot in a mere 32 days. Astonishingly, this expedited production leaves virtually no trace on the screen. Rio Grande pulsates with the full signature of Ford’s peak-period mastery. The majestic, mythic landscapes of Monument Valley are deployed with characteristic grandeur, framing human drama against an indifferent, awe-inspiring natural world. The action sequences, particularly the climactic rescue mission, showcase exceptional stunt work and visceral choreography; Ben Johnson, then a rising star transitioning from stuntman to actor, contributed significantly to this physical authenticity.

Ford’s abiding affection for the enlisted man’s perspective shines through the larger-than-life presence of Sergeant Major Quincannon, magnificently embodied by the formidable Victor McLaglen. While Wayne delivers another reliably charismatic and authoritative performance as Yorke, the film’s true revelation is the electric on-screen chemistry between Wayne and Maureen O’Hara. Their volatile yet deeply felt sparring as the estranged Yorke couple ignited a cinematic partnership that would define several iconic 1950s films, marking the beginning of one of Hollywood’s most compelling screen pairings.

Commercially, Rio Grande performed respectably upon release, capitalising on Wayne’s star power and the enduring popularity of the Western genre. Ironically, its box office success was soon dwarfed by the far greater triumph of The Quiet Man, the very film whose funding Rio Grande was intended to facilitate.

Critical reception, however, was largely dismissive. Reviewers of the era often found it formulaic, a step down from Fort Apache and the subsequent She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949), and this lukewarm critical reputation has stubbornly persisted.

This enduring critical coolness stems significantly from the film’s overt political ideology. Screenwriter James Kevin McGuinness and source author James Warner Bellah were staunch anti-communist ideologues. Accounts suggest McGuinness’s original script was so extreme in its jingoistic fervour that even Ford, no stranger to conservative politics himself, reportedly discarded large sections, resorting to extensive improvisation on set. Nevertheless, the film’s right-wing underpinnings remain glaringly evident. The Apache are depicted in relentlessly dehumanising terms – as murdering, raping, child-abducting savages – serving a clear narrative purpose: to implicitly justify the violent removal of "problematic" Native populations from the American West. This portrayal, reflecting the dominant, racist frontier mythology of the era rather than historical complexity, sits uncomfortably with modern sensibilities and was already critiqued by more perceptive contemporary reviewers for its simplistic demonisation.

Furthermore, the film’s November 1950 premiere coincided precisely with the dramatic escalation of the Korean War, including China’s entry into the conflict. Many observers, including John Wayne himself, immediately interpreted Rio Grande as a potent allegory. Wayne explicitly identified the Rio Grande with the Yalu River border between North Korea and China. He lamented the Truman administration’s reluctance to authorise a similar cross-border incursion into Communist China – a move he believed would have swiftly ended the war – contrasting it with Yorke’s decisive, successful mission. This contemporary political reading, whether intended by Ford or not, became inextricably woven into the film’s initial reception and subsequent critical dismissal, marking it as a piece of bald-faced Cold War propaganda for many.

Yet, the film’s most persistent flaws arguably stem less from its politics and more from specific creative misjudgments. The casting of 14-year-old Claude Jarman Jr. as Jefferson Yorke, while understandable given his prior child-star success (The Yearling), proves problematic. Jarman, earnest and game, simply lacks the emotional depth and screen presence to credibly spar with seasoned titans like Wayne and O’Hara. His performance, often stiff and unconvincing, undermines the crucial familial drama central to the film’s structure. Equally jarring is the prominent inclusion of the popular Western music group, The Sons of the Pioneers, cast as the regiment’s "singers." While their harmonies are pleasant and authentically Western, the frequent musical interludes feel tonally dissonant within the film’s otherwise gritty narrative of military hardship, familial strife, and brutal frontier conflict. These interludes momentarily rupture the carefully constructed realism, injecting a note of artificial, almost musical-comedy levity that clashes with the film’s darker themes.

Ultimately, Rio Grande deserves reassessment beyond its position as the "weakest" Cavalry film or a mere footnote in Ford’s journey towards The Quiet Man. It is a testament to the bedrock professionalism of Hollywood’s golden age auteurs. Ford, operating under constraints he despised, delivered a film brimming with his signature visual poetry, robust action, and profound understanding of masculine camaraderie and duty. To dismiss Rio Grande solely for its politics or its place in the trilogy is to overlook the core skill of a master filmmaker working efficiently, effectively, and with undeniable artistry, even when the wellspring of personal passion had run dry. It is, in essence, professional filmmaking at its most admirable: the ability to make the difficult look effortless, the unloved project resonate, and the screen consistently deliver the goods.

RATING: 6/10 (++)

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I think I may end up giving up on trying to find a good horror movie as this makes 3 in a row with only one of them being somewhat good. The somewhat good film was called Good Boy and I will write more about that later.

After Dawn the title of the notion of the film to be somewhat familiar because it is a pretty popular video game in both this one title and the many other games that are like them. I played Until Dawn and though that this would mean that because of this I would know how this movie turns out. Well, that was incorrect as this movie does not follow the game's plot at all and perhaps this was due to them not being able to afford Rami Malek or perhaps just wanting to avoid what might have been rather expensive CGI that would accompany the other-worldly creatures that were featured in the game.

This film is similar to the game in some ways but the main one being that it has a group of rather "attractive" teens that are going somewhere for some reason and end up getting trapped there. In the game their destination is some sort of ultra-luxurious mountain lodge that is on top of Blackwood Mountain but in the film they end up in another fictional place called Glore Valley.

They arrive at a welcome center in the middle of nowhere and even though things are pretty darn strange in all the events that lead up to them arriving there, including that once they do arrive that they are the only people there and nobody is inside of the unlocked welcome center, they don't really see any issue with this and of course, just as one would do as a teenager in a horror movie, they decide to stick around.

[src](https://specials-images.forbesimg.com/imageserve/67868aa7b0516d2f10b373a6/Until-Dawn-Movie/960x0.png?fit=scale)

What ends up happening is kind of abrupt and will surprise anyone who has never played the game as well as those that have because all of them are rather rapidly killed and I suppose I can applaud this because I didn't see that coming. But then they all wake back up and the night starts again and they have to try to survive the various things things that are hunting them.

The CGI is actually pretty good and the actors are not terrible either. The jump-scares are genuinely well-done for the most part and some of the dream chase scenes I would say are really artistic and well-done.

[src](https://bloody-disgusting.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/sawn-m.jpg)

Although it does remain a bit unclear as to what the objective is even after the architect of this strange trap attempts to explain it, they do eventually figure out how to get free from the Groundhog Day from Hell.

So it seems as though I am praising it and honestly, it does have a lot of things going for it. So why do I say that the film is "frustratingly terrible?"

The dialogue is some of the worst I have ever seen in films

I don't know how a lot of people manage to maintain jobs in the script-writing world honestly, because it seems to me as though more than 50% of film that are released have dialogue that appear as though it was written by someone as a group project for a freshman-level drama class.

The dialogue in this is just absolutely retarded, with the 5 of them constantly getting in time-wasting arguments about whether or not they should stick together or split up (we definitely know they are going to split up because this is a horror film) and as soon as one of them gets slightly out of sight another one of them starts to call out their name over and over, shouting for them even though they are being stalked at that particular point in time by creatures that will be drawn to their shouty-ass location.

The idea of being magically captured in a "groundhog day" sort of maniacal trap is a magically crazy one already, but I didn't like the fact that the whole idea is that it is a game of sorts that they have to try to figure out yet certain ways in which they are dispatched involves their bodies getting possessed or taken over by some sort of force power and to me this is rather stupid. The things that are hunting them each night want to catch them, so why not just use the possession powers every time.

Outside of Evil Dead I have found any sort of powers that take over a person's body completely to be overpowered and just plain silly in horror films.

Overall, if they had just completely reworked the dialogue so that it wasn't so damn awful and absurd -perhaps it was meant to be funny - that this could have actually be a pretty decent film. But because of the horrible dialogue I found myself getting a bit upset anytime that any of the actors said anything at all. They do not help or compliment one another in any way, each of them is simply a hindrance on the progression of the group somehow.

Should I watch it ?

While this movie did relatively well financially speaking which means we are likely going to get many more of them from the studio that made the game, it failed to get any real praise from both professional critics and regular users. It sits at a 5/10 on all the major sites and honestly, that is where it belongs. I commend their efforts for being able to make such a good-looking film for a mere $15 million, but maybe if you do make another one, spend more than $3.95 on the script-writers. The dialogue is too serious to be intentional comedy and too stupid to be intentionally dark and dramatic. It's just there, and its there to fill up time I guess since virtually none of it is inspired or moving of the story in any way.

To me this was enough to frustrate me out of enjoying almost any of it.

On the other hand it is a visual spectacle and a concept that shows a lot of promise should they try to have another go at the idea. It could be a real winner if put into different hands on the second go round, like a new Final Destination sort of series.

It really is amazing that dialogue can be so bad that is actually ruins the rest of the otherwise pretty nicely made film but that is the case with this one.

Latin American political cinema occupies a precarious space on the global stage—rarely exported, even more rarely understood beyond regional borders. Within this context, Luis Sepúlveda’s 2002 directorial debut Nowhere arrives as both a courageous act of testimony and a cautionary tale about the perils of translating lived trauma into art. A Chilean writer who endured imprisonment and exile under Pinochet’s regime, Sepúlveda brought undeniable moral authority to this project, crafting a narrative set in the unnamed but unmistakably Chilean desert of the 1980s. Yet, Nowhere ultimately collapses under the weight of its own contradictions—a film torn between the black comedy Sepúlveda allegedly envisioned and the reverential solemnity demanded by his personal history. What emerges is not catharsis but confusion, a work whose noble intentions are fatally undermined by the director’s inexperience and the suffocating pressure of representing historical atrocity.

The premise alone demands attention: five dissidents, branded enemies of the state, are seized by commandos and imprisoned in an abandoned desert railway station—a liminal space where the regime’s arbitrary cruelty becomes tangible. Guarded by naive teenage recruits, the prisoners navigate a purgatory where camaraderie with captors clashes against the ever-present threat of execution, all while left-wing guerrillas scour the dunes for their comrades. This setup brims with potential to dissect the psychological mechanics of authoritarianism—the way terror seeps into mundane interactions, the moral corrosion of power, the fragile humanity persisting even in dehumanising systems. Yet Sepúlveda, a novelist by trade, lacks the cinematic language to harness this material. Sepúlveda seems to have abandoned his initial vision of black comedy—not as a deliberate artistic pivot, but as a retreat into reverence for Pinochet’s victims. The result is neither satire nor tragedy, but a disorienting pastiche where laughter dies in the throat and pathos feels unearned.

Sepúlveda’s personal history as a survivor of Pinochet’s torture chambers should have been an asset, yet it becomes the film’s fatal flaw. Unlike Costa-Gavras’ Missing (1982)—a masterclass in political filmmaking that dissected the same regime with surgical precision while it was still in power—Nowhere suffers from the burden of hindsight. Gavras, a seasoned director, wielded narrative restraint to devastating effect: the bureaucratic banality of American complicity in the coup, the agonising search for a disappeared son, all rendered with icy clarity. Sepúlveda, by contrast, drowns his story in sentimentality. The unnamed dictator (Patricio Contreras, made to resemble Pinochet with chilling specificity) appears only in fleeting, almost campy cameo. This vagueness extends to the setting itself: the country is never named, as if Sepúlveda feared accusations of exploiting trauma. But ambiguity here isn’t subtlety; it’s evasion. Missing forced global audiences to confront U.S. involvement in Chile’s coup; Nowhere retreats into allegory, sacrificing historical urgency for safe abstraction. The guerrillas searching the desert might as well be phantoms—their mission feels disconnected from any tangible political reality, reduced to plot devices to justify Harvey Keitel’s perfunctory cameo.

Ah, Keitel: the film’s most cynical concession to commercial viability. His character—a generic "American observer" with no discernible motivation—exists solely to sell the film in the American market. Sepúlveda, desperate for international distribution, inserts this spectral figure whose presence disrupts the narrative’s fragile coherence. Keitel’s scenes feel like they belong to a different movie entirely. By pandering to Western distributors, Sepúlveda undermines the very critique of imperialism his story purports to deliver.

Where Nowhere finds fleeting grace is in its human-scale moments. The ensemble cast captures the suffocating tension of arbitrary detention. Nicola Piovani’s score, all mournful guitar motifs and sparse percussion, evokes the Chilean nueva canción tradition without resorting to kitsch. Yet these strengths are swamped by Sepúlveda’s directorial missteps. His inexperience manifests in static framing, hesitant pacing, and a reliance on narration that tells rather than shows.

The comparison to Missing is damning. Gavras’ film, released just nine years after the coup, wielded immediacy as a weapon. Jack Lemmon’s desperate search for his son forced American audiences to confront their government’s role in Chile’s tragedy, turning politics into visceral drama. Nowhere, arriving two decades later, feels like an archaeological dig—reverent but detached, more concerned with memorialising than interrogating. Sepúlveda’s trauma, while valid, prevents him from achieving the critical distance needed for true artistry. He cannot satirise Pinochet’s regime without feeling he betrays its victims; he cannot embrace magical realism without diluting historical specificity. The desert railway station—a potent symbol of isolation—becomes a metaphor for the film itself: stranded between genres, audiences, and moral imperatives.

Nowhere ultimately fails not because of its subject, but because of its surrender to external pressures. Sepúlveda’s personal stake in the story should have fortified his vision, yet it shackled him to reverence over rigour. The tragedy of Nowhere lies in its near-miss. Sepúlveda, a man who lived the horror he depicted, deserved to tell this story. But filmmaking is not testimony—it is craft. And without mastery of that craft, even the noblest intentions become dust in the wind.

RATING: 4/10 (+)

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La premisa de esta película en un principio sonaba bastante interesante ya que era la historia típica de una película de terror pero a través de los ojos de un perro que intenta salvar a su dueño, pero si bien como idea podría sonar increíble e innovadora que sí Hasta cierto. Lo es la verdad es que termina siendo una película bastante lenta carente de ritmo y a raíz de que el protagonista es un perro y de hecho el foco principal gira alrededor de él la verdad es que el desenlace incluso plantea ser bastante aburrido.

The premise of this film initially sounded quite interesting, as it was the typical story of a horror film but through the eyes of a dog trying to save its owner. However, while the idea might sound incredible and innovative, this is only true to a certain extent. The truth is that it ends up being a rather slow film lacking in rhythm, and because the protagonist is a dog and the main focus revolves around him, the truth is that the outcome is even quite boring.

Fuente de imagen

El misterio sí a resolver en este caso en esta película de terror paranormal Por decirlo de alguna manera la verdad es que es completamente nulo y aquí Él es un pequeño spoiler sobre fiel de la película todo el misterio que estaba rodeando las sombras que ve el perro que están acosando a su dueño resulta que era como una especie de interpretación de la muerte buscando al dueño porque una enfermedad terminal sé que esto suena sumamente interesante pero de verdad el ritmo de la película es tan lento y tan aburrido que la verdad es que deja mucho que desear.

The mystery to be solved in this paranormal horror film is, to put it mildly, completely non-existent. Here's a small spoiler about the film: the mystery surrounding the shadows that the dog sees harassing its owner turns out to be a kind of interpretation of death seeking out the owner because of a terminal illness. I know this sounds extremely interesting, but the pace of the film is so slow and so boring that it leaves a lot to be desired.

Fuente de imagen Con todo esto que digo no puede decir que es una mala película tampoco puede decir que sea una buena película es una película curiosa tirando a regular que si me lo preguntan a mí creo que si son amantes del cine y son muy cinéfilo A lo mejor le pueden dar una oportunidad porque dura apenas una hora con 15 minutos Pero la verdad es que no la recomendarías están buscando de ver algo genuinamente entretenido.

With all that said, you can't say it's a bad movie, nor can you say it's a good movie. It's a curious movie, leaning toward mediocre. If you ask me, I think that if you're a movie lover and a real cinephile, you might want to give it a chance because it's only an hour and 15 minutes long. But the truth is, I wouldn't recommend it if you're looking for something genuinely entertaining.

Hello, film lovers! /Bonjour les cinéphiles,

This American series, consisting of three seasons, is available on Netflix. It is an adaptation of the 13-volume literary series of the same name, written by Daniel Handler under his pseudonym Lemony Snicket. This series falls into the adventure category.

Nous sommes sur Netflix pour cette série américaine composée de 3 saisons. Il s'agit de l'adaptation de la série littéraire éponyme en 13 volumes, écrit par Daniel Handler sous son pseudonyme Lemony Snicket. Cette série est à classer dans la catégorie aventures.

Source Series poster /Affiche de la série

Synopsis :

One cloudy morning, the Baudelaires' parents send their three children to the beach. Violet (Malina Weissman), Klaus (Louis Hynes) and Prunille (Presley Smith) skip stones to pass the time.

At the end of the morning, Mr Poe, a banker, arrives to tell them that their house has burned down and their parents have died. He is responsible for taking them to a guardian, a close family member, who will look after them until Violet comes of age, at which point they will gain access to the Baudelaire family fortune.

Les parents Baudelaire envoient leur 3 enfants à la plage, un matin, alors qu'il fait un temps nuageux. Violette (Malina Weissman), Klaus (Louis Hynes) et Prunille (Presley Smith) font quelques ricochets avec des pierres pour passer le temps.

En fin de matinée, le banquier Mr Poe vient leur annoncer l'incendie de leur maison et le décès de leurs parents. Il est chargé de les conduire chez un tuteur, un membre proche de la famille, qui veillera sur eux jusqu'à la majorité de Violette, ce qui débloquera l'accès à la fortune de la famille Baudelaire.

These three children have sometimes unexpected talents that will enable them to extricate themselves from some rather incredible situations. Their fortune attracts envy, which will lead to famous pursuits by ‘predators’ who will stop at nothing to obtain this holy grail.

The orphans will make enemies, but also friends. They will cross paths with other orphans whose stories are linked to their own.

Ces 3 enfants ont des talents parfois inattendus qui leur permettront de se sortir de situations assez rocambolesques. Leur fortune attire la convoitise, ce qui donnera lieu à de fameuses poursuites de la part des "prédateurs" qui ne reculeront devant rien pour obtenir ce graal.

Les orphelins se feront des ennemis, mais aussi des amis. Ils croiseront le chemin d'autres orphelins dont l'histoire est liée à la leur.

My opinion and useful information /Mon avis et petites infos :

It's really quite special. It's aimed more at young teenagers. Throughout the episodes, we encounter Lemony Snicket (Patrick Warburton), who recounts the circumstances and repeatedly advises us to turn off the television. Author Daniel Handler contributed to the series' screenplay.

C'est vraiment très spécial. C'est plutôt destiné à de jeunes adolescents. Tout au long des épisodes, nous croisons Lemony Snicket (Patrick Warburton) qui nous raconte les circonstances et nous conseille à maintes reprises d'éteindre la télévision. L'auteur Daniel Handler a participé au scénario de la série.

Several relatively well-known actors appear throughout the series, in leading or supporting roles:

• Neil Patrick Harris: Count Olaf
• K. Todd Freeman: Arthur Poe
• Lucy Punch: Esmé Salomon d'Eschemizerre
• Patrick Breen: Larry
• Nathan Fillion: Jacques Snicket
• Allison Williams: Kit Snicket
• Peter MacNichol: Ishmael
• Morena Baccarin: Beatrice

Plusieurs acteurs relativement connus apparaissent au fil de la série, dans des rôles principaux ou plus secondaires :

• Neil Patrick Harris : le Comte Olaf
• K. Todd Freeman : Arthur Poe
• Lucy Punch : Esmé Salomon d'Eschemizerre
• Patrick Breen : Larry
• Nathan Fillion : Jacques Snicket
• Allison Williams : Kit Snicket
• Peter MacNichol : Ishmael
• Morena Baccarin : Béatrice

Some events were far-fetched, such as DIY solutions to save them from a situation, where the necessary ingredients happened to be on hand, even though they wouldn't normally be there.

All in all, it wasn't too bad. It has the merit of being original, and the theme tune sticks in your head.

This series dates from 2017 to 2019, so you may have already seen it. If so, what did you think of it?

Enjoy your evening's viewing, everyone!

Certains événements étaient tirés par les cheveux, comme des bricolages pour les sauver d'une situation, dont les ingrédients nécessaires se trouvaient justement sur les lieux, alors que ce n'est pas leur place normalement.

En fin de compte, ce n'était pas trop mal, ça a le mérite d'être original et la musique du générique reste bien dans la tête.

Cette série date de 2017 à 2019, vous l'aurez peut-être déjà regardée. Si c'est le cas, qu'en avez-vous pensé ?

Bonnes soirées-tv à tous,

Florence

Source photo : image Qwant autorisée

I used Deepl Translator to translate French into English

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