The zombie motif is employed with perverse precision in David Cronenberg's early work Shivers, a film which titillates both intellectually and emotionally, as the filmmaker delivers a subtextual repudiation of Freud's theories of psychoanalysis, a theory in which suppression of individualistic carnal pleasures is a necessity in order for collective progress.   A very economically made film, Cronenberg doesn't let financial restrictions get in the way of his unique, erotic spin of the zombie film, showing a penchant for the grotesque which he would become known for with this explicit juxtaposition between sex and violence.  It has been a long time since I'd seen this film and what struck me as I revisited it is that in a sense, Cronenberg seems to be unsure if he should be hopeful or concerned about the state of humanity, subtextually exhibiting how sexual liberation, while anarchic in a sense, can also save humanity from norms of puritanical society.

Formalistically ascribes the visual comedy reminiscent of Tati, Elia Suleiman's It Must Be Heaven is a cunning portrait of a globally-connected world, one which simultaneously embraces and subverts cultural stereotypes in an attempt to express and normalize our shared humanity which supersedes such differences.  The director himself is the principal character and the de factor vessel across this exploration; A Palestinian man, the film provokes an evocation of identity and diaspora related to home which doesn't always work, yet it features a host of enticing visual comedy constructions  which titillate regardless if they don't always achieve the director's introspective ambitions.  The urban spaces of New York and Paris in particular are viewed through a foreign lens, which in itself offers some juicy comedic moments, but the film's more intellectual aims don't entirely work due to much of its quasi-vignette formal structure feeling a bit too facile to elicit the film's intended intellectual aims.  It's almost as if Suleiman himself realizes this, as the film becomes less nuanced and more didactic in its philosophical underpinnings in its last few scenes of the film.

​As emotionally resonant as it is intellectually rigorous, Gu Xiaogang's Dwelling in the Suchun Mountains is a stunning work of slow cinema, one which transcends its familial narrative to deliver a powerful exploration of the sociological and psychological effects which personal and societal change can place on the human psyche.  A film which is relatively plotless, outside of its inciting incident in which the matriarch of a large family suffers a debilitating stroke, Dwelling in the Suchun Mountains feels largely free-flowing in that the events feel naturalistic, placing the various characters at the fulcrum of its story as they navigate the seas of change.  Featuring a ravishing assembly of carefully calculated images, the visual constructions in Dwelling in the Suchun Mountains enunciate the natural world, elucidating the omnidirectional exploration of modern China in which generational and class divides caused by China's societal transformation into modernity effect this sprawling family in different and distinctive ways.  It's a rich tapestry of emotional resonance and intellectual purveyance,  one which expounds no easy solutions to this tumultuous yet normalized relationship which modernity places between the social and economic conditions of society.  The clash between tradition and modernity is not simplistic nor easily deconstructed, and through its panoply of characters Dwelling in Fuchun Mountains saliently encaptures these complexities in which each character brings their own lived-in experiences - defined by their temporal and spatial environments - as they attempt to navigate their environment and their connections to others whom they share the commonality of family.   A story which effectively rejections crude dichotomies between Nature vs. Nurture, Modernity vs. Tradition, Dwelling in the Suchun Mountains is a sprawling family drama that is particularly astute when it comes to detailing the litany of forces - both social and economical - which sculpt and cultivate whom we are as individuals and what it means to be family.

While perhaps too insular or withholding for its own good, Song Fang's The Calming remains a meditative study of self.  Unwilling to associate solitude or self-reflexive personal stasis as a de factor pejorative, The Calming instead offers a far more complex character piece, one in which affect - both positive and negative - is perceived not through a binary way of thinking but as a synthesis of the spirit or soul which is largely incalculable, unquantifiable, and fleeting,  Through the film's largely plotless construction which is more predicated on a simple conceit than a formal narrative story structure, The Calming excavates the spiritual significance of self-reflection and solitude, showing how happiness or at least being content in life must first-and-foremost come from within.  External relationships are often what send this character into a place of grief or uncertainty and yet in solitude - often which also takes place in the natural world - she eventually begins to find a sense of calm, an inner peace from the chaotic nature of modernity and the normalized notions of life which often can create unfair pressures on an individual whose life hasn't congealed with the typical path.  While many films detail with loneliness, The Calming simultaneously finds utility and subverts the aesthetics in cinema often used to elicit such emotions, using them instead to touch on the importance of self-reflection and recognition that through pain and introspection often comes peace.