Sunset

Stripped of life-and-death consequences, Sunset never convinces us that its protagonist can sustain such unrelenting scrutiny.

Instead, this feels like an abstract ode to the frantic, listless, tightly wound thing a city becomes on the eve of its demise.

Sunset is one of the most innovative and invigorating films I've seen, and I can't imagine that anything else this year could have topped it.

It's all too vague to function effectively as either a commentary on the build-up to the Great War or as the story of a woman looking to find her place in a city predicated on rigid, gender-determined hierarchies.

Nothing is ever quite clear - often literally, because Nemes likes to keep the middle-distance out of focus. It was chillingly effective in Son of Saul. Here it's just deadening.

A thing to be admired and puzzled over, featuring fantastic feats of millinery. Magic and hats, anyone?

Episode 50: Heart of Glass / Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives / Sunset

It's claustrophobic and puzzling, it's challenging, intellectually and emotionally and Nemes' rebellion feels dangerously authentic. Pay attention.

Nemes and Royer create an over-encumbered plot that shifts the focus in so many directions that it leaves the viewer essentially cross-eyed.

What's intriguing about Sunset is its setting and specific time period.