#moviereview Jumanji: The Next Level

Kevin Hart, Dwayne Johnson, Karen Gillan and Jack Black return as the Jumanji avatar.

Summary: 

When Spencer goes back into the fantastical world of Jumanji, pals Martha, Fridge and Bethany re-enter the game to bring him home. But everything about Jumanji is about to change, as they soon discover more obstacles and more danger to overcome.

Verdict:

Acting⭐⭐⭐
Directing
Plot⭐⭐
Cinematography⭐⭐⭐
Visual Effect/Costume⭐⭐⭐
Music/Sound⭐⭐⭐

#moviereview Knives Out

The film stars A-listers, including Daniel Craig, Jamie Lee Curtis, Toni Collette, Chris Evans, Don Johnson, Michael Shannon and Christopher Plummer

Summary: 

The film opens with the death of famous – and fabulously wealthy – murder mystery writer Harlan Thrombey (Plummer), who has apparently slit his throat on the night of his birthday party. A week later his family, plus trusted nurse Marta (Ana de Armas), are called back to the house to answer the police’s questions. Also present? A mystery man who sits in the back of the room and taps on a piano key whenever he wants a specific question posed.

Verdict:

Acting⭐⭐⭐⭐
Directing⭐⭐⭐⭐
Plot⭐⭐⭐⭐
Cinematography⭐⭐⭐⭐
Visual Effect/Costume⭐⭐⭐
Music/Sound⭐⭐⭐

#moviereview Where’d You Go, Bernadette.

Cate Blanchett as Bernadette Fox, an architect, a mother and a wife who hates people, hates leaving the house, and more than anything, hates the other parents at her daughter’s school.

Summary: 

Adapted from a 2012’s novel of the same name by Maria Semple, the film revolves around an agoraphobic architect who goes missing prior to a family trip to Antarctica. A loving mom becomes compelled to reconnect with her creative passions after years of sacrificing herself for her family. Her leap of faith takes her on an epic adventure that jump-starts her life and leads to her triumphant rediscovery.

Verdict:

Acting⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Directing⭐⭐⭐⭐
Plot⭐⭐⭐⭐
Cinematography⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Visual Effect/Costume⭐⭐⭐
Music/Sound⭐⭐⭐

#moviereview Doctor Sleep.

Ewan McGregor as Danny Torrence / Doc, a man with psychic abilities who struggles with childhood trauma

Summary: 

This horror drama is based on the 2013 novel of the same name by Stephen King, a sequel to King’s 1977 novel The Shining. Years following the events of The Shining, a now-adult Dan Torrance must protect a young girl with similar powers from a cult known as The True Knot, who prey on children with powers to remain immortal.  Rebecca Ferguson, Kyliegh Curran (in her feature film debut), and Cliff Curtis also stars. [5]

Verdict:

Acting⭐⭐⭐⭐
Directing⭐⭐⭐⭐
Plot⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Cinematography⭐⭐⭐⭐
Visual Effect/Costume⭐⭐⭐⭐
Music/Sound⭐⭐⭐⭐

Voices.

I don’t get much sleep at night. The night to me is like a crowded night market. Everybody is shouting and bargaining and telling stories that nobody really care to listen. Sometimes I do listen when the story gets interesting. Other times, I blast loud music to drown the noise until I fall asleep. Sleeping to me is an expensive commodity. It’s very rare that I get any. 

I don’t quite remember when it all began. Perhaps I was a toddler when I heard the first voice. Perhaps it was in junior college that it became a hall of voices. Perhaps it was in business school that it became a stadium of voices. All I knew is the voices had put me in both perilous situations and given me an upper hand in various occasions.  

I never see myself as impaired or weird but I always knew I was different. You see, these voices tell me good things and bad things and sometimes a grey area of things. The voices had asked me to slit my wrist. The voices had helped me to ace a quiz. The voices had awoken me from a micro sleep while I was driving at 150KM/hour.  The voices had also told me secret of others. Recently, the voices had instructed me to arrange my furniture in a weird fashion at an odd hour (5AM) only to realize I was unintentionally helping my friends (who was) organizing a birthday surprise for me that same day. 

Don’t ask whether I can control what I hear. The answer is I can’t. It’s like listening to 500 radio stations at once. If I accidentally focus the right way (and I’m still trying to figure out what is the right way), I would be able to hear only one collective voice, telling me one specific thing. She is dying. He is lying. She is sick. He will get into an accident. You will injure your knee. There is an evil entity in the house. Don’t go to that hill. Call your sister. Wake up, your mom is dead. The list goes on.

So the next time I guess something right, or I ask you whether there is anything I can do to help, that’s my way of hinting you I know and it’s okay. So the next time I grin at you for no reason, or I look at you in a specific (often weird) manner, that’s my way of not telling you I know your secret. So the next time I advise you not to do something, you might want to consider taking my advise (or not) because it may spare you from doing something ridiculously stupid or potentially damaging.

I am writing this against my better judgment because I think it’s time I face what I’ve been denying forever. This is my dark secret and now it’s out in the open. I feel… strangely relieved.

A Man named Hashim.

Before me, at a little distance, reclined a lanky man, with a chiseled, wrinkled face, and a stern expression. His head was very grey; and his whiskers, which he wore only around his face, like a frame, were grey also. He was a fan of printed shirts. He was my father. 

He hunched a little when he walks. He barely talks but when he does, he is warm and friendly. Father enjoyed teasing others, a trait I inherited and practices often. He was the kind of man who would drop pinches of salt if you sleep with your mouth open. He was the kind of man who would take your most feared animal and throw it on your lap.  

Father was a storyteller. He was in the army before he retired. He’d fought the Communist, the Japanese and lived to tell the tale. I love his ghost stories – never fail to send me to bed with nightmares. He was also fearless. I remember a tale of how a banshee was flying over his head and instead of running for his dear life, he would chase the banshee with his bicycle. And after the banshee has landed on a tree, he would shake that tree just to make himself laugh. Yeah, crazy, ballsy daddy.

Father doesn’t speak much. He would stare at me without saying a word. I used to think that there was something wrong with me as a child – as if I was an embarrassment. I used to think that he doesn’t want me. I don’t remember ever getting a hug from him. I don’t remember ever being kissed on the cheek. And I don’t remember ever being told, “I love you, son.” 

Maybe, that was the army in him. Maybe the war had damaged him in some way. But he was gentle, soft spoken. I don’t remember being beaten by him. Not even being screamed at. And although he has questionable ways of showing affection (he never fail to get me durian cracker – my favorite childhood snack – every time he comes back from town), he was always and forever will be, my father. The father who put roof over our heads, the father who put food on the table, the father who put all 7 children through school, the father who, despite having very little, has given so much for his family. 

And for those sacrifice dad, I salute you. You’ve been more of a father than anyone could ever hoped for. I love you too.

RIP HI. 

Fikri.

Hi little brother.

Do you remember how we used to climb trees and scare the monkeys?

Do you remember how we used to stalk wild boars and throw rocks at them before running for our lives when they start chasing us?

Do you remember how we used to stick pieces of wood into the ground, pretend they were buildings and we were giants, and burn them as if we were in an Ultraman movie?

Do you remember how we used to make paper planes and throw them from our balcony to see whose glides longest in air?

Do you remember how we used to make paper boat and float them on our front yard every December when it floods?

Do you remember how we used to catch fireflies at night and put them in our sleeping net so we can stare at them, just like we’re staring at the stars?

Do you remember how we used to drive mom insane by swimming in the river every Sunday morning?

You don’t remember do you? Because you were never there when it happened. Because you were taken earlier than you should. And I had to grow up alone without a friend.

I wish you were there little brother. When I was playing. When I was laughing. When I was crying. So I know that it’s going to be okay.

I wish we can trade places. Because you might make a better person than I ever would be.

RIP FH.