Cinema Confidential goes to Hollywood to tell the stories of 15 inspiring people who have made it in the world show business. Author and presenter: Stanislav...
Cinema Confidential goes to Hollywood to tell the stories of 15 inspiring people who have made it in the world show business.
It was an honour to be your Q&A panels host for a third time, Comic Con Bulgaria. It is only becoming bigger and better, thank you 🙏♥️ #cinemaconfidential #cinemajournalist #presenter #tvseries...
Stanislava Ivy's documentary series follows successful artists who have made it into show business. In this episode we meet actor Andre Holland - all about h...
Stanislava Ivy's documentary series follows successful artists who have made it into show business. In this episode we meet actor Andre Holland - all about his career, getting on the stage for the Oscars when "Moonlight" won best picture and playing Othello in London this summer.
I'm proud to announce that Cinema Confidential received an Award of Recognition in the category for web series in the Best Shorts Competition festival.
С гордост споделям, че Cinema Confidential стана носител на приза Award of Recognition за web series със фестивала Best Shorts Competition.
In episode 9 of the travel film vlog Cinema Confidential the host Stanislava Ivy takes us on a tour around the beautiful city of Naples, Italy. We'll visit d...
We'll visit different film locations used in movies such as "Eat Pray Love" and "Matrimonio all'italiana" as well as find out why John Turturro dedicated an entire documentary on the city.
The “Cahiers kids”—Truffaut, Godard, Chabrol etc.—had a curious habit: when watching a film at the cinémathèque, they would always sit as close to the screen as possible. By doing this, they believed they would be the first to receive the fresh images that appeared on screen. To be sure, this is a romantic theory of film spectatorship, one that could only be conceived by the equally romantic French. In any case, this was the very same concept I embraced when going to see Alfonso Cuarón’s Gravity. A work that begs you not to simply watch it, but to experience its visual splendor and awe inducing atmosphere. What catches most mainstream, which is to say casual, moviegoers off guard is the film’s restrictive economy. For instance, there’s only two characters, (Bullock and Clooney, a glorious duo if ever there was one), the setting is stark, empty Space and the editing is slow and sparse. Gravity belongs to a type of filmmaking I refer to as “minimalist cinema,” or films that operate under strict narrative parameters, and may include: little to no dialogue, controlled setting and restrained storytelling aides like editing, (e.g. Rope, Buried and Exam). This factor, along with the film’s stellar visuals, is Gravity’s real achievement.
Narratively speaking, Gravity is extremely facile by design: shrapnel like debris bombastically destroys the space shuttle on which Bullock’s Dr. Stone and Clooney’s Kowalski work. The event causes both Dr. Ryan and Kowalski to drift further into space, leaving them with depleting air tanks and limited options on how to rescue themselves. Here is an acceptable case where story should take a backseat to characterization. The excitement doesn’t come by watching Bullock and Clooney circumvent or succumb to their obstacles. It’s in how they choose to reconcile these events as human beings. At one point in the film Bullock is separated from Clooney; afraid she might die alone, she takes solace in a lone radio signal that’s being broadcasted from Earth—more specifically, China. While she can’t understand the man on the other end, she cries knowing that at least she made contact with someone, anyone before facing possible mortality. Memorable movies are remembered for specific moments, those key scenes that take up residence in your mind and stay with you long after you leave the theater—Bullock alone, in space, questioning her faith, facing death, yet wanting to live is as powerful a sequence as you’ll ever see, and what ultimately makes Gravity one of the best films of 2013.
My intense appreciation and admiration notwithstanding, I found some of Cuaròn’s dialogue at times to border on being too slight, or just flat out generic. To some degree, I wish the director would’ve taken a cue from another talented visual filmmaker, Nicolas Winding Refn, and just let the moments—rather than the characters—speak for themselves. Additionally, there were times I truly thought Gravity’s composer, Steven Price, was trying his utmost to channel his inner Trent Reznor. Reznor dwells in an equally dark space, one swelling in industrial drones—that is his sandbox, Mr. Price, it’s best to let him play there while you find your own unique style. These, however, are mild criticisms, and hardly anything that subtracted from my overall enjoyment of the film.
If 2001: A Space Odyssey is an opera, then Gravity is undeniably a ballet. Gravity allows its subjects to dance and whirl through space uncut and in fluid motion. Every leap heightens the stakes of their survival. Gravity’s astronauts stick the landing every time because they know they have to. After all, falling is threaded directly to their fates.