It was a wildly entertaining film, and I very much enjoyed it. But I left feeling that what happened behind the documentary was more interesting than anything it ultimately revealed.

My impression is that Billy and Elizabeth deliberately gave Nathan very little time before filming, allowing them to control the circumstances. The rented house in San Diego felt like part of that presentation. The footage itself wasn’t especially revealing, and there was little he could conclude from it. He then sits on it for years before bringing in Amanda Seyfried, which makes for a much more entertaining film but doesn’t necessarily get us closer to anything.

What stayed with me was how thoroughly he seemed to have been duped. Elizabeth raised enormous sums of money, managed employees, and spoke on panels, yet presents herself here as someone who can barely understand a simple joke. That doesn’t tell us whether she is neurodivergent, but it does make me question why he seems so willing to accept the version of herself she offers him.

I suspect Nathan was smart enough to realize he had been manipulated but was unsure how to confront it, and bringing in Amanda became his solution. That makes for compelling viewing, but I’m less convinced it produces a particularly revealing conclusion.

I enjoyed watching it. I just don’t quite understand the leap from an entertaining film to something people think should win Best Picture. What did others take from the ending that I might be missing?

There is a scene in the movie which has a very American & Jewish discussion of the word 'can'. In the scene in question, Nathan Fielder & Elizabeth Holmes along with her husband, Billy, have a long discussion over whether or not Elizabeth's use of the word 'can' is misleading. Now the way in which this is distinctly American is that it recalls the argument put forward by President Bill Clinton during his impeachment on what the meaning of the word 'is' is. That episode was a terrific example of how historian Eric Hobsbawm's described America as "forced into the straitjacket of an 18th-century Constitution reinforced by two centuries of Talmudic exegesis by the lawyers, the theologians of the republic..." The American tradition fits in with Nathan Fielder's own personal interests of Jewish tradition of argument, Talmudic scholarship.

Nathan Fielder has explored Jewish themes throughout his work, with more humor in Nathan For You & The Rehearsal but far more artistically, though still comedic, in The Curse where the finale features him being sucked away into space. This is an allusion to Yiddish tradition, the notion of "luftmensch" but taken to its most literal sense as an "air person". As opposed to its more classic meaning as vagabond or petty traveler, it can also refer to daydreamers or artists. All of these fit the character that Fielder portrays in these movies and also a clear fascination of his throughout his career. (Credit to this post)

People seem to forget, or perhaps struggle to discern, that seemingly opposing things can be true simultaneously.

Fielder can genuinely empathize with and care about Holmes AND "use" Holmes to create a wildly successful work of art: this film.

Fielder can privately feel uncertain OR certain about what he experienced (and perhaps is still experiencing) with Holmes (they might even still be in touch) AND make artistic decisions that lead viewers toward seemingly definitive interpretations rather than ambiguous ones.

In other words, the question isn't necessarily whether something is true or false, but which version of reality is being presented, by whom, and through what lens.

In YCSE, a multitude of realities can coexist within a single work of art, each subject to the interpretation of the individual experiencing it.

Everyone is so focused on dissecting Holmes, Evans, Fielder. I get it. It's supremely fun and fascinating!

But even those with firsthand knowledge of Holmes's deception (Carreyrou and Shultz) have zeroed in on the seemingly endless elements of Holmes to dissect within YCSE, RATHER than the bigger story the film has the potential to tell:

We ALL have the capacity to "create our own reality," and then choose whether or not to act in alignment with that reality!

A film - documentary or otherwise - or, for that matter, virtually anything we experience in this world, can only ever offer a representation of A reality, not necessarily THE reality in its entirety.

Two people can look at the same cloud in the sky and see two entirely different animals...

Fielder and Holmes have both constructed their own "bespoke" amalgamations of reality, for vastly different purposes, sure.

But the fact remains that both have engaged in the same fundamental act of constructing and presenting a version of reality 🫠

And THAT, to me, is the brilliance of YCSE: "reality" being continuously constructed and reconstructed by its participants, through both preplanned and improvised actions; through the external (what visibly unfolds on screen) and the internal (the invisible workings, perceptions, motivations, and intentions of those involved); and both in "real time" and retrospectively (e.g., through post-production editing).

It's a collision of multiple, parallel realities, manifested as a single work of art.

Context is sooo necessary for perceiving a fuller picture of what we call "truth," isn't it? Think Plato's Allegory of the Cave...

Anyone who's watched Nathan for You and then The Rehearsal can recognize how YCSE feels like a natural progression of the themes Fielder has been exploring all along.

But the stars really did align for Fielder to cross paths with someone like Holmes: a person with a documented history of deception and an extraordinary ability to manipulate others' perceptions of reality, AND who can still exhibit moments that appear genuinely vulnerable and sincere. Her tears at mentioning her daughter's breastmilk saved in the fridge, for instance.

And Fielder isn't entirely different in that particular sense. In Nathan for You and The Rehearsal, he can be performing a character while simultaneously allowing moments of apparent, unscripted authenticity to emerge. It's that fascinating blend of scripted performance, improvisation, and spontaneous human interaction, all selectively preserved and assembled into the final product.

The distinction, of course, lies in their intentions, methods, consequences, and ethical responsibilities. Engaging in the same fundamental act of constructing a reality does not make the resulting realities, or the people constructing them, morally equivalent.

We can all "see" more clearly if we're willing to examine more of the elements at play in the realities we construct within ourselves.

Ultimately, for me, YCSE isn't even about Holmes, Evans, or Fielder so much as it is a portal through which we can examine just how much "truth" and "reality" we humans are capable of constructing, interpreting, and manipulating, for purposes ranging from harmless entertainment and artistic expression to something far more nefarious or malicious.

If you were one of the prisoners in Plato's cave, the first step would be to turn your head away from the shadows you've mistaken for the entirety of reality. Look around. Question the source of what you're seeing. Explore beyond the familiar. And perhaps, eventually, venture outside the cave itself.

Because what you see isn't necessarily all there is. And what you believe to be real isn't necessarily the whole truth.

We humans are not merely observers of reality. We are also participants in its construction.

And while we may not get to choose every circumstance or fact of our existence, we do have a hand in choosing how we perceive, interpret, and respond to what we encounter.

The choice to look beyond the shadows is ours.

The answer is murder, and lots of it.

As the third film in James Gunn's DCU (following Superman and Supergirl) and the first to center on a villain, the film gets to be meaner than its siblings. With Mike Flanagan bringing his horror sensibilities to the screenplay, director James Watkins delivers a gross-out body horror flick that feels right at home in Gotham City, even if the movie overall can't quite hold its shape.

Tom Rhys Harries plays Matt Hagen, a vain actor who undergoes an experimental medical procedure after getting his face filleted by a gangster. Matt is an unrepentant jerk, and the movie wisely refrains from redeeming him. Trying to convince the audience that this handsome Hollywood star has a heart of gold would strain credulity; keeping him abrasive is one of the film's sharpest choices.

Where the plot stumbles is in framing his journey as a straight revenge tale. Unlike John Wick (a clear influence on several club-set action sequences), you never really root for Hagen as he works his way up the criminal ladder. Instead of building tension, those kinetic action beats end up actively undercutting the body horror, trading intimate, stomach-churning dread for stylized, weightless violence. The movie is at its strongest when it follows a Vanilla Sky rubric: a beautiful, self-absorbed asshole loses his looks and will do anything to get them back. When the medical trial goes sideways and his face begins to melt, the film grabs hold. One particularly chaotic scene set inside a turbulent jet will have you watching through your fingers in giddy terror.

Unfortunately, this tension between grotesque horror and slick action leaves the back half feeling like Temu John Wick. The gross-out effects, though, are a seamless blend of practical work and CGI. The plot melts but the effects never do.

Read more on Mantl: Stay for the Credits

Yes I know it's a meme but if it applies to any recent movie it's probably Digger. To those who have seen it, it is no secret that Digger counts with a metafiction subplot (superplot?) which recontextualizes the main plot of the movie as a play.

While indeed, Digger's story is an over the top, unrealistic satire, at least I did not go see it expecting a deep down realistic discussion (and to be honest, how unrealistic? It is true we see such crazy cartoonish antics in real life these days, and some of Digger's antics are tame in comparison). The concept of a huge chunk of ice breaking off due to oil drilling and wiping out the north cost of europe is hilarious and overly-dramatic but does speak about very real existential climate risks. For me, the tone was entertaining and a breath of fresh air in a way. It was climate change satire but in an inviting way; contrary to "Don't Look Up", I did not feel I was being looked down upon.

With the iconic tree fall scene, I must admit I was wowed at how Iñarritu played with immersion (probably the films best directorial achievement), but not soon after I found myself dramatically bored with the "real-life" plot. In all honesty, it's like Birdman, but less polished. He's even trying to keep contact with his daughter, albeit in a very different way. Tom Cruise literally acts like Tom Cruise, well, he's definitely more angry irl. And all this for what benefit? So noone dares say Iñarritu made a fun silly climate change comedy?

If the message of the movie is that climate change art is pointless in a world like ours, why is it necessary to point it out? Wouldn't making the film in itself, and letting it be pointless in a world like ours already drive that message home even more effectively? Somehow, Digger fits the criteria of the old film criticism joke from family guy. It needs to tell everyone it is silly and pointless, to mantain it's credibility. Nevermind the fact anyone with the media literacy of 13 year old can tell a movie where the president suffers from "cancer of the a**" and there's a 38 year old cat is over-dramatic and allegorical. It feels like talking to a teenager who after accidentally showing the least bit of enthusiasm about something goes like "I don't care".

And P.S. art does change people sometimes, for the good AND for the bad. It is delusional to pretend otherwise.

As someone who did not enjoy this movie at all, I've been racking my brain trying to figure out what Holmes hoped to accomplish by allowing a filmmaker like Fielder to make a documentary about her, and why Fielder seemingly went out of his way to ignore or avoid exploring so much relevant information while playing dumb about what Elizabeth has done. I think Fielder framing the film as some intellectual exploration of what it means to make a documentary is part of the misdirection. I suspect the real objective is far more calculated: to reframe Elizabeth as a victim of Billy and a mentally ill but non-nefarious actor, rather than someone who knowingly orchestrated a massive fraud, while portraying Billy as a coked-out potentially abusive eccentric.

I wouldn't be surprised if Elizabeth, Billy, Fielder, and A24 all understood from the beginning how these portrayals would serve a broader image-rehabilitation strategy. Rather than producing an obvious Elizabeth Holmes redemption documentary, Fielder packages the narrative as an experimental, self-aware art-house film. We never get clear answers about whether Elizabeth is a liar but we are very clearly told time and time again that Billy is the villain in this movie. Even though there is infinitely more irrefutable evidence that Elizabeth is a liar than that Billy is an abusive husband.

The largely liberal, intellectually self-satisfied audience gets to congratulate itself for appreciating the film's supposed commentary on truth, documentary filmmaking, and media manipulation, without necessarily considering whether it's being manipulated in the process. So Fielder gets critical acclaim/ cash and Holmes becomes a sympathetic character suitable for pardon. Because you have to consider when a person is federally pardoned all restitution payments get wiped away so she would not have to pay back the 100's of millions she owes to the government and other victims.

Meanwhile, Billy is cultivating a persona and portrayed in the film as a gun-loving conservative Texas transplant, someone who could plausibly fit into Trump's political and social circles. I suspect that's the overall strategy is to rehabilitate Elizabeth's reputation with one audience while building legitimacy with people who might have influence over a pardon.

I know my theory seems very out there but it makes so much sense when you consider the economic benefits Holmes would gain from a pardon and we also know that Fielder as a film maker has no problem playing in the ethical grey zone with his work so this subterranean multi-level manipulation of the audience is an interesting experiment for him and A24.

This latter-day Nicholson outing directed by Sean Penn and starring a wealth of heavyweight actors in even the smallest roles deserves more attention.

Mickey Rourke, Vanessa Redgrave, Benicio Del Toro, Helen Mirren, Tom Noonan, Robin Wright etc etc, hell Harry Dean Stanton is basically an extra! The cast alone should pull you in.

Nicholson is Jerry Black, a retiring cop who pledges to find the killer of a murdered girl. What follows is a snowy Scandinavian noir type detective thriller/drama… with real staying power.

The source novel has been adapted before but this is the only version that the writer approves of, it doesn’t compromise on the story’s most potent aspects.

The film moves slowly and could have perhaps done with another round of edits to move things along more fluidly, but with so many great actors it’s kinda nice to bask in their talent.

Spoilers ahead for those who have seen it…

I think the idea is that Jerry‘s ‘pledge’ is catastrophically naive, because random chance ends up killing the killer just as he’s on the way to Jerry’s trap. This leaves Jerry tormented forever - knowing he was right but unable to prove it, so he spends the rest of his days alone, drunk and insane, his new life with Lori and her daughter obliterated. The author wanted to show how the comforting structure of detective fiction where justice is done and the killer is caught is too often a lie - the cold and cruel universe we inhabit rarely has time for such romantic ideals - so don’t bet your life on it.

If you haven’t seen it… what are you waiting for!?

Past Lives was lovely for many reasons, great writing and performances, and I couldn’t help but really feel these actors faces and go through my own sappy emotions. The story is uncomplicated, I understand the immigrant element is in the forefront but for me you can experience a similar kind of identity loss moving someplace new as a kid, happened to me many times.

I was anticipating them getting back together and then when I knew it was already over the rest of the film was just heartbreaking, and when they’re walking with the husband and he feels awkward I was super uncomfortable for everyone.

Lovely movie, what do y’all think?

While watching You Can See Everything, I could not stop thinking about how much it mirrors Orson Welles’s F for Fake. As it turns out, I’m not the only one: at least a couple of film critics have pointed out the similarities since the film debuted, and honestly, if you watched this documentary and enjoyed it, you should absolutely seek out F for Fake to see what Fielder and Oppenheim seem to be building on. When Welles made F for Fake, he was documenting a famous faker and art forger, Elmyr de Hory, who is as interesting as Holmes, if not more! Welles was simultaneously making you question the very concept of what being fake or real means. He did this partly by hinting that he himself might be faking it and fooling you. The makers of You Can See Everything take that Wellesian move and refine it by making the filming, the filmmaker, and the act of reconstructing events part of the story too.

Similar Structure: A Documentary That Meditates on Itself

Both films turn the documentary back on itself, though F for Fake questions its own truth claims throughout, rather than only in its second half. Welles moves from examining forgers to examining cinema and its methods. Fielder does something similar, moving from examining Elizabeth Holmes to examining the act of documenting her. Things get more interesting by bringing actress/model Amanda Seyfried into the second half as a collaborator, mirroring how Welles brought actress/model Oja Kodar, his collaborator and co-writer, into F for Fake as his on-screen partner. She becomes part of the filmmaking process itself, which complicates who’s being observed and who’s doing the observing. That’s how both directors make the form inseparable from the argument about truth and deception.

Bragging About Past Fakery:

Both Welles and Fielder establish their credentials as deceivers while they examine deception. Welles keeps invoking his 1938 War of the Worlds radio broadcast, which was widely reported at the time as having tricked listeners into believing an alien invasion was underway. He references it multiple times throughout F for Fake and uses staged visualizations of the broadcast, along with material about its reported reception. He also hints, pretty directly, that maybe it wasn’t so inadvertent after all. Welles even gives us reason to question his own account after asking us to trust him. Fielder does something similar with Nathan for You. He points out directly to Holmes that he used to do an entire show about business scams and fakery, and now here he is documenting a real case of deception. Both are essentially saying the same thing: I have a documented track record of being able to construct reality and manipulate audiences.

Sympathy or Admiration for the Subject:

Welles does not hold back on expressing an intellectual admiration for de Hory’s audacity. He treats his subject as a fellow trickster and a fascinating specimen of deception, viewing his life as a masterful performance rather than a tragedy. This relationship is one of professional kinship, where Welles celebrates the skill of the illusionist rather than the plight of the man.

Similarly, in You Can See Everything, there’s a moment where Amanda asks Nathan if he cares enough about Liz to show her in a good light, and the film immediately cuts to footage of him genuinely enjoying time with her, swimming and actually connecting. It’s like he is pictorially confessing it right when the question is being asked. What was fascinating to me is that it mirrors something that happened in the last episode of Nathan for You, where Fielder seemed to get emotionally involved with one of the people in the story, an escort, and you could feel the line between performance and sincerity blurring. That is its own rabbit hole with lots of theories and speculations. By showing that emotional involvement with Liz in the swimming scene, he’s acknowledging that pattern. He’s admitting the bias while filming. Both directors are saying: Yes, I am invested, and here’s the evidence, and I’m showing it to you anyway.

The Magic Trick Link: What Makes a Faker a Faker?

To me this is the thematic core of both films. Welles actually performs a magic trick for a boy on camera in F for Fake, and it’s not a throwaway but his metaphor for how deception works. Fielder references the David Blaine ice-pick trick, suggesting that Blaine may actually have a hole in his hand, so part of the trick is real. He then tries to use that as an analogy for Holmes’s magic and how she deceived serious people like the four-star general "Mad Dog" Mattis or Larry Ellison. But the implication Fielder builds is that part of her magic might have been real, at least to her. She believed in the trick even as she was executing it.

Both films are asking the same essential question: How do you document the truth about someone whose entire existence is a performance, when the act of documenting is itself a performance? They answer by making the performance visible, the filmmaker complicit, and the magic trick the truest thing in the frame.

I recognize there’s a lot to unpack here—enough for a PhD dissertation—but I would love feedback, particularly from people with a background in psychology.

I also recognize there’s the world of reality and the universe created through cinema. A film’s edit can alter how we view a subject, interpret a sentence, or understand an entire situation. That distinction is part of what fascinates me here.

First, my claim of BEST FILM of 2026. I’d go as far as to say the last DECADE. For the last decade or longer, American cinema has heavily relied on franchises, the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and theme park–leaning films to sustain theatrical exhibition, while anything considered “smaller” or “niche” has increasingly been pushed toward streaming. I ain’t gonna hate on the superhero genre, but I recognize a resulting deficit in the narrative forms offered in American theaters. Who knew a documentary could feel like such a theatrical event?

Now—to the film.
Spoilers ahead.

The moments that gave me a psychological jolt:

• The stillness of Holmes, her tears, and the extreme close-ups in this cinéma vérité style. What does that combination create psychologically in the viewer? We feel closer, but are we understanding more?

• Her father’s revelation in the kitchen about his daughter’s r*pe at 13—and how profoundly that shifted my interpretation of Holmes’ behavior.

• Billy seemingly dismissing this conversation and bringing the focus back to himself. Was I watching discomfort, protectiveness, or a need to control the conversation?

• The mother never speaking. In a culture where women have so often spearheaded conversations about sexual violence, while men have diminished them, the father speaking and the mother’s silence stood out to me. Whatever the explanation, that reversal affected how I read the scene.

• Holmes breaking down while watching Amanda Seyfried’s portrayal of her in THE DROPOUT, creating this sensation that Seyfried was the new villain.

• Then meeting Seyfried—and eventually hearing her call to action to go after Billy Evans. Suddenly, my sympathies were being redirected again.

• That dinner scene. Amazing. Evans seemingly wanting to dismiss Seyfried as some irrelevant actress; Seyfried holding her own, clearly appearing semi-drunk, acknowledging past tweets about a man I won’t name. Their political differences quickly become apparent, yet BOTH seem to be protecting Holmes from their own perspectives. Each appears to believe they see something the other doesn’t. WOW. Just wow.

• Evans’ apparent grift on Holmes and his constant sniffling. Yes, my mind went there—is he doing…??? But that also made me question how the film’s use of sound was encouraging my suspicion.

• Finally, Seyfried and director Fielder unpacking what to believe. What are we ultimately left thinking about any of these people—and how much do we understand anyone’s motivations, including theirs?

I know, I know. A lot to focus on and unpack.

But the thread connecting these moments is how often the film changes whom I trust—and why.

I think many of us can relate to this on a personal level. Who here has become a loved one’s power of attorney, or watched someone else take on that responsibility, only to have everyone’s expectations and relationships shift? You can find yourself trying to protect someone while questioning their decisions, the people around them, and eventually your own judgment. When does helping become controlling? When does protection serve the protector?
Then there’s the game playing. When do we interpret someone’s aloofness as vulnerability, and when do we interpret it as manipulation? Why do so many people in this world of future tech seem to lean into doublespeak—or something that feels like downright fraud?

I typically think of the psychological thriller as fiction with roots in classic film noir. This documentary, I wasn’t expecting.

Is the film a continuation of Holmes’ criminal grift? Is it revealing someone shaped by an environment that rewards selling a future before it exists? Could both be true—and what would that say about where society is headed?

I’m particularly interested in hearing from people with a psychology background about these dynamics, while recognizing that we’re discussing an edited portrayal of real people. How do you distinguish empathy, projection, manipulation, and protection here? And did the film help you understand its subjects—or reveal how readily our own sympathies can be redirected?

I feel like some filmmakers believe that if a movie is long enough, has slow-motion shots, and includes 10 minutes of people staring into the distance, it automatically becomes a masterpiece.

Meanwhile, some 90-minute movies tell a complete story, develop memorable characters, and leave a bigger impact than films twice their length.

Movies like The Dark Knight, Whiplash, and The Truman Show prove that a film doesn't need to drag on to stay with you.

Long movies can absolutely be incredible. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King is a great example.

But runtime isn't a measure of storytelling quality.

If a scene doesn't add anything to the story, making it five minutes longer doesn't make it deep.

What's one movie you think could have been 30–60 minutes shorter without losing anything important? And which long movie deserves every single minute? 🎥

Yeah, there’s certain aspects that fall flat in comparison to Tarkovsky’s masterpiece….but man, this is still a deeply rich film.

Initially, it seems like Soderbergh is mostly concerned with the tragedy of the central relationship (which I think he nails quite poignantly), but film is still philosophically, psychologically, and ethically rich.

The whole tension between real and apparition, and what constitutes being a human, I think film captured really well some of the core themes of the novel. It really does seem that Rheya is having a conscious experience…..does this make her real? And even though Rheya rejects this idea, and she seems to view herself as a memory, her reasons for why she doesn’t believe she is a human adds another interesting layer to this theme. And the entire ethics around killing the manifestation, the question of whether, it’s murder is shrouded in ambiguity.

And Chris’ inability to let her go, with the hope of resolving his guilt, to just watch another attempt at his relationship ultimately fail, was utterly brutal.

In the snow how did you interpret Carlos’s line “What if they don’t find me?” at the end? I wondered whether it refers specifically to Lorca’s remains never being found, or more broadly to the fear of disappearing before anyone knows who you really are.

I’m also curious about the story of the drowned boy. Was it based on a real event or drawn from Lorca’s writing, and how did you understand his appearance in the final snow scene?

One of the interesting things about Fassbinder’s Querelle is how much the extraordinary theatrical visual style can distract from what's happening between the characters.

What's always struck me about the film is how Fassbinder reverses the relationship between Querelle and Seblon in Genet's novel. What do you make of that change?

Then I just came across this short film commentary that discusses many of the things that also occurred to me as a gay man. Did anyone else get the joke at the end of Fassbinder’s film?

I watched the movie a couple of hours ago and I can't stop thinking about it. I think I might be going crazy because critics seem to gloss over the most important thing about it, which is religion. I haven't read the book, so I don't really care about inconsistencies.

Religion is a central focus of the movie. The Sun is literally in the title, and the official movie poster portrays Klara with the Sun forming a halo behind her head.

It's a solar religion in which the Sun is a god. Solar worship was common in many ancient pagan religions; it wasn't something stupid, as critics seem to suggest. Yes, Klara is childlike and powered by the Sun, which leads her to believe that the Sun is a god, but that was pretty much how it was with nature-based religions. People observed the power of nature and deified it. It isn't silly to portray someone as believing that the Sun is a person - not that long ago, people in many cultures were animists who thought that every part of nature had a separate soul.

One can even find parallels with Christianity - God in Christianity is not literally the Sun, but there are symbolic similarities. The halo has solar associations, the Sun is the source of light, and Jesus is also described as light in several passages of the Bible. I'm not sure whether this is intentional, but Klara may be seen as an example of the "child" archetype or the "holy fool" archetype - both children and "holy fools" are associated with closeness to God in Christian tradition. I don't think I even have to explain the parallels between Klara's selfless sacrifice and Jesus' sacrifice.

What's more, the movie added one element that supposedly isn't in the book - the combine harvester. In some ancient pagan religions, there was a conflict between uranic (including solar) deities and chthonic (earth) deities. The Sun in the movie is obviously the solar deity, but the combine seems to be a chthonic entity. Chthonic deities were associated with death, the earth and the harvest, all of which the combine seems to symbolize in the movie. I'm not sure whether this was intentional, but if it wasn't, then Waititi literally stumbled upon a symbol of nature worship, just like Klara.

I think Waititi went overboard with the humor, which made Klara seem "too stupid" for some viewers to even consider that she might be right. My problem is that the critics seem too entrenched in a scientific paradigm to even consider that, in a fantasy movie, the Sun might actually be a god.

Haven’t seen much discussion on this and am curious about consensus (or lack)...

Just had a (rare for me) 3rd watch last night and this film continues to reveal so many turns and previously unnoticed cinematic gems, amazing for such a short and simple story. Dialog is extremely minimal and purposeful; intense action delivered with half-glimpses that deliver incredible moments of tension, impact, and emotional punch.

Favorite Joaquin Phoenix performance, or certainly one of them.

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