Author: Andres Kabel

Hirokazu Kore-eda makes movies that feel intensely Japanese, uncomfortably different, whilst applying honesty and intelligence to genuinely human stories. Asura is a seven-episode family drama about four wildly dissimilar sisters, their lives swirling around each other with familiar love, resentment, competition, and protectiveness. We have: the happily married wife of a Japanese businessman (who seems to absent himself now and then) and mother of teenage children; the professional flower arranger, a widow ensnarled in a romance with a married man; the insecure girlfriend of a boxing wannabe; and the cloistered librarian seemingly destined to remain a spinster. When their retired father is found to have a mistress and secret son, the drama of the series commences, swirling outwards with unpredictable outcomes. To this viewer, the first two episodes, with the slightly exaggerated Japanese acting, the chintzy music, the plain cinematography, and the matter-of-fact direction, were baffling, but quickly Kore-eda’s magic sets in and we are entranced by the characters and their realism. By season’s end (and I do certainly yearn for Season 2), all the characters are indelibly stamped over their stories and humanity’s messiness is portrayed with rare accuracy. A gem.

The story of fake online wellness guru Belle Gibson is a familiar one: fake, found out, justice. But Apple Cider Vinegar, a six-episode rendition based (howsoever loosely) on a journalistic expose, is turned by Samantha Strauss’s sparky, imaginative script (backed by superbly tight and watchable direction from Jeffrey Walker) into something special. We know the arc but the pleasure is in how the tale unfolds, how the goodies and baddies operate, and indeed in the depth of human understanding shown to all the characters, even the super villainess herself. All the actors are beautifully cast, with Kaitlyn Dever riveting in the Belle role, and Mark Cole Smith and Ashley Zuckerman quietly magnificent in two of the key male roles. Each of the six episodes packs a punch, and the series is bold in its use of time jumps and quirky voiceovers or actor intrusions. The thundering plotline manages to illuminate important themes, such as conventional versus alternative medicines, the ghastly potential for influencers to falsify, and the human desire for connection when unwell. From dramatic start to apt ending, Apple Cider Vinegar is magical.

The disposable-thriller sub-genre is real and one that Netflix excels at. A typical, stalwart example is Carry-On, an airport thriller with a wonderful premise. If a young TSA agent fails to let a catastrophic suitcase through security, his wife (also working in the airport) dies. And it is Christmas Eve. The premise is milked for all it is worth and milked well: the script by T.J. Fishman is contrived but gripping, and Jaume Collett-Serra’s direction is kinetic and immersive. However, what plucks Carry-On from the ruck is the performance of the two stars: Taron Egerton, as the victim, is refreshingly gauche yet smart (and of course physically effective), while Jason Bateman is hatefully indestructible as the genius villain. Anyone casting about for a brief jolt of adrenaline after a bruising day would be well satisfied by Carry-On.

Based on a ten-year-old part-bio, Dylan Goes Electric!, by Elijah Wald, and brilliantly refashioned by eclectic writer/director James Mangold, A Complete Unknown is, of course, about Bob. Dylan. Bob Dylan, the genius singer/songwriter who is the only lyricist to have won the Nobel Prize. Perhaps its greatest strength is that it only relates a segment of Dylan’s life, from when he arrived in New York at the start of the mighty Sixties, penniless, unknown, and a mystery, until he upended the American folk scene by “going electric” at the Newport Folk Festival. Timothée Chalamet stuns as the young Bob, nailing his voice, his singing, his arrogance, his self-certainty, and he is backed up by Ed Norton note-perfect as Bob Seeger, Elle Fanning wonderful as the discarded girlfriend, and Monica Barbero immersive as Joan Baez. The cinematography is excellent, especially in the raucous clubs and on the various stages, the plot zings without concession to the viewer, and the 60s settings are a pleasure in themselves. To my mind, A Complete Unknown remakes the genre of the music bio. Go see it.

Seemingly unassuming as it starts, The Remarkable Life of Ibelin gently kicks into gear with the documentary tale of a Norwegian sufferer of a muscular degenerative disease, Mats, and his death at age 25. Then the bombshell: his parents discover hidden on his computer (we’ve already seen significant footage of him curled up in a wheelchair, playing video games using special gear allowing him to work the games with just a finger or two, we’ve heard his parents bemoan his wasted time gaming) a community of gamers who swirled around him in a second life on World of Warcraft (I have a friend who spent years on this multiplayer online game, so I know how addictive/rewarding it is). From there writer/director Benjamin Ree plots out a fresh biography (using animated resconstructions of game action plus actual text conversation discovered in Mats’s gaming archives) of Ibelin (Mats’s game name), full of intrigue and emotion and even love. We see some of Ibelin’s closest online friends, face to face in interview, and we begin to marvel at the courage and humanity of Mats/Ibelin. The Remarkable Life of Ibelin is a touching, unsentimental story of the powers of friendship and love in the most difficult of physical circumstances, and the last quarter is truly moving.