Laser Pink Steam

Noticing now the third documentary in a row made me feel suspicious about my tendency to genre-crowd films: this is also the case of comedies that often appear in pairs. I saw Pereira's film at Berlinale, which is a specific setting, marred by overstimulation: it's like going to three festive dinners daily for over a week after months of hermit life. Its pairing with Wiseman's film makes sense in terms of their affective load: both sparkle with text and are relatively conventional genre-wise.

I watched 103 great films in 2025. This is their breakdown.

I watched 103 great films in 2025. This is their breakdown.

I watched 103 great films in 2025. This is their breakdown.

I watched 103 great films in 2025. This is their breakdown.

Tati's penultimate feature film is less consistently magnetic, but there's tons to enjoy, particularly in terms of brief observational moments showing people doing quirky things in and around their cars. These collections of multiple low-key scenes play more effecting than, say, one longer scene, where Tati's protagonist is suspended on a tree at night. Its framing as, maybe intentionally, the film's centerpiece adds to its odd rhythm.

Adults are frustrating assholes. Ahmadpour's may be my all-time favorite child film performance.

It's a perfect pairing to "Mon oncle," as it is another case of a filmmaker with one work (Bergman Island) that I adore to the extent that it casts a heavy shadow over their earlier titles. Like Babygirl, this film doesn't have outstanding cinematography or editing, its actors are fine, but the story is incredibly engaging and told in a sparse way. Hansen-Løve's films share emotional resonances with Joachim Trier, particularly their early 2010s output, which zooms in on their protagonists who undergo issues that will either kill them or they outgrow them. This film is the case of the latter.

Tati's masterpiece Playtime was my first encounter with the filmmaker, which is to slight detriment of his other films. Mon oncle is the one I'd heard the most, for years, and, from a distance, it seemed infantile and cozy, which is exactly what I didn't want from cinema throughout and beyond my 20s. This film demonstrates Tati's unique style in its quirky basics: gag-oriented, buoyed by exquisite production design, intelligently staged.

There's a weird connection I have to Dreyfuss' screen persona. I grew aware of him through some of his 1990s output, my favorite part of which is cringy, underwritten, yet kinetic Krippendorf's Tribe, a silly kind-of slapstick comedy featuring Lily Tomlin, teenage Natasha Lyonne, and a hefty dose of blackfacing. I hated the sappiness Mr Holland's Opus, I didn't connect with the autopilot antics of What About Bob? (despite Julie Haggerty!), I fell asleep while watching Spielberg's Always (despite my undying love for Holly Hunter). Then there came the big hits, Jaws and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, which I liked fine. Dreyfuss started growing on me. He grew a lot as a supporting player in amazing Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead; he kept growing after I saw him in a lovely small role in Postcards from the Edge. I'd never heard of The Big Fix, I didn't expect anything, and it became my favorite of his roles, to a great extent due to amazing chemistry he has with the young actors playing his sons, Abraham, and, most importantly, Anspach, who's riveting in her small though pivotal role. This film has the looks and loose feel of 1970s Altman's: a noir that is a comedy that is a drama that occasionally employs a sketch structure, courtesy of scene-stealing Rita Karin. I am always excited to see Bonnie Bedelia, but she doesn't get much to do.

I just cannot ever finish this film, weirdly.