Cloud

Cloud

Cloud Rating

Click if you liked this article

3

Premiering out of competition at the 2024 Venice International Film Festival, Cloud is a slow-burning psychological thriller that peels back the digital veneer of modern ambition and exposes the hollow desperation that simmers underneath. Directed with icy precision and a haunting visual stillness, this unsettling Japanese film follows Yoshii, an online reseller whose brush with success begins a descent into paranoia, deception, and vengeance.

Yoshii, scraping by reselling goods on the internet, stumbles upon a too-good-to-be-true deal—a medical machine bought for next to nothing and resold at a massive profit. High on this first big taste of victory, he quits his job, distances himself from his one close friend (also in the reseller game, but far less lucky), and relocates to a quiet lakefront house in the countryside with his girlfriend, setting up shop in near isolation. He hires a seemingly naive local villager as his assistant—but from the outset, nothing in Cloud is what it seems.

With its brooding and sparse score and long, languid shots, the film establishes a pervasive sense of unease. Yoshii is visibly on edge, hiding behind a pseudonym online, self proclaiming to be unsure if what he’s selling is even legitimate. The rural calm quickly gives way to dread: an object hurled through his window in the dead of night, a police investigation into counterfeit sales, and whispers of betrayal ripple through the tension-soaked air.

 

 

As the walls close in, Cloud deftly shifts between psychological suspense and social commentary. The internet, a tool for connection and entrepreneurship, becomes instead a breeding ground for fraud, resentment, and faceless revenge. Reviewers accuse Yoshii of being a crook, and dark forces gather—literally. An online mob forms, headed by none other than his estranged old friend, each member with a personal vendetta.

The film’s third act spirals into violent chaos. Yoshii, blind to the consequences of his opportunism, is eventually kidnapped and nearly executed in a live-streamed act of vengeance—only to be saved by his assistant, revealed to have a shadowy past in organized crime. The girlfriend, the assistant, the friend—each character has been complicit in a shared unraveling, a reckoning born not just of greed, but of modern alienation and rage.

Director, Kiyoshi Kurosawa, doesn’t offer clean moral judgments, nor easy redemption. Instead, Cloud paints a murky portrait of a world where ambition overrides empathy, and where digital anonymity can turn ordinary people into victims—or monsters. What starts as a tale of a hustle ends as a chilling parable about the cost of chasing success in an economy built on illusion.

To book tickets to Cloud, please visit https://japanesefilmfestival.net/film/cloud/.

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

Bushidō

Bushido

Bushido Rating

Click if you liked this article

TW: The movie represents violence, sexual references, blood and has other trigger warnings. This review will not.

Amid the blooming Sakura trees, a Samurai and his daughter are trying to make their way in the world. Cast out from their hometown, they live a poor but honest life. We see our Samurai, Kakunoshin Yanagida, teaching others to play Go, carving personalised signature stamps (hanko) and negotiating to extend the date for his already late rent. We are witnesses to his life changing its course when he intercedes on behalf of a pawn shop owner in conflict with another samurai. This pawn shop owner becomes an important player in the story as an avid Go player, and an unofficial student of Kakunoshin Yanagida, learning to be an honourable man.

The story of Kakunoshin Yanagida is a Japanese drama, set in the Edo period. The set designs are elegant, transformative, and perfectly suited for the era. The lighting has been carefully chosen for each scene, drawing the audience in with each slight shifting of mood. In a moment towards the end of the movie, we are treated to a backdrop of a breathtaking, glimmering sunset before the set morphs into a thoughtful, candlelit space. With shoji screens and doors assisting the lighting throughout, adding layers of complexity as well as being used by the characters to give the audience some insight into their inner thoughts, the space and lighting feel as though they have been created and used with care and consideration.

 

 

I will admit I am no expert on Japanese clothing, but I could tell the kimonos in Bushidō were each carefully considered for every scene. For example, if a character were feeling helpless, or as though misfortune were on their doorstep, we would see them wearing dark colours, as opposed to their previously brighter fabrics. The glimpse we get to see of women discussing their kimonos was with the utmost respect for the garment, and it was not expressively mentioned, but Kakunoshin Yanagida’s own outfits are clean and well cared for, as are his swords. Of which we only see unsheathed when it is absolutely necessary.

The camera work brings the story to life, with a variety of techniques to keep the story alive and thriving. With shaky vintage filters to represent memories, an impressive use of blurring during the scene, and some heart-wrenching still moments, the camera guides us through the story with ease. There was never a moment when I found myself feeling overwhelmed by what was on the screen, or wondering where I was supposed to be looking. My personal favourite was a sideways tracking shot, overflowing with top-quality choreography.

Kakunoshin Yanagida might be poor, but he is striving to live his life as honourably as he can, while playing Go fair and square. He is a man of great self-control, but of course what’s a movie without some conflict? When we are treated to the conflicting moments in the movie, Kakunoshin Yanagida transforms into another person, filling the screen with his presence and emotion. I won’t give away too much, but he becomes vengeance, fulfilling his destiny.

Bushidō is a tale of revenge, family, and honour. It is as intense as it is gentle, as brash as it is thoughtful, and as hateful as it is filled with love. The story is a slow burn, but once it has lit, be prepared for a rollercoaster of a journey.

To book tickets to Bushido, please visit https://japanesefilmfestival.net/film/bushido/.

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

The Life Apart

The Life Apart (Italian Film Festival)

The Life Apart (Italian Film Festival) Rating

Click if you liked this article

4

The Life Apart is everything aficionados of European cinema long for — poetic obscurity, powerful performances, and cinematography so lush you want to step inside the frame. Paired with a hauntingly beautiful classical score, it delivers a sensory experience that lingers long after the final credits roll.

Set against the backdrop of an elegant Italian palazzo, the film captures the glamour and quiet dysfunction of bourgeois family life. The story begins with joy: the long-awaited arrival of a baby to a seemingly perfect couple — a striking, Penélope Cruz look alike, mother and her accomplished husband, a respected doctor. The nursery is pristine, a devoted maid is ever-present, and an affectionate aunt is ready to help. Yet, this ideal world unravels the moment the baby, Rebecca, is born with a prominent birthmark on her face and neck.

From here, the narrative dives into the mother’s fragile psyche. Her descent into mental illness is portrayed with empathy and depth — torn between shielding her daughter from a cruel world and hiding her away entirely. The father’s helplessness and the strength of the mysterious aunt, who champions Rebecca’s education and introduces her to the piano, offer a poignant contrast.

 

 

As Rebecca grows, so does her resilience. She finds solace and acceptance in an unlikely friend from a very different walk of life — a spirited girl who challenges societal norms with ease. Through this friendship, Rebecca discovers self-worth and agency, even as her mother spirals further into despair.

The film does not shy away from tragedy, but it also doesn’t let grief define its ending. Instead, it gently guides the audience — and its characters — toward hope, growth, and a redefinition of beauty, love, and family.

Themes of fate, identity, societal pressure, and inner strength are woven with subtlety and sophistication. Director and cast handle emotional nuance with a light but sure touch, while the cinematography elevates every moment into painterly perfection.

A must-watch for lovers of European cinema and classical music, The Life Apart is both a heartbreaking and life-affirming journey. Let it transport you to Italy and envelop you in its rich atmosphere. This is the kind of film you carry with you, reflecting on its quiet power long after the screen fades to black.

To book tickets to The Life Apart (Italian Film Festival), please visit https://italianfilmfestival.com.au/films/iff25-the-life-apart.

Spread the word on your favourite platform!

Signorinella: Little Miss (Italian Film Festival)

Signorinella: Little Miss (Italian Film Festival)

Signorinella: Little Miss (Italian Film Festival) Rating

Click if you liked this article

6

When they began migrating to Australia pre-World War II, Italian’s were given plots of land in the harsh outback to call their own. From there, they worked hard to ensure the land would thrive, build their businesses, and their families. Even while they were labelled as a threat by Australians in 1939, they didn’t let this stop them from building the best version of their lives.

“Signorella: Little Miss” explores how Italian women have contributed to the history of Australia, from fashion to politics, food to art, and almost everything in between. With feminism as the core theme, the interviewees are charming, lively women reminiscing on their stories in Australia, and showing a resilience that can only come from having to repeatedly explain to their friends and acquaintances that good food is so much more than just a Sunday roast of potatoes and carrots.

Through the documentary, we are treated to family pictures – some of which are brought to life, and animated to show smiling faces and happy interactions – showing the lives of the young Italians while they tell their stories. Some of these women were not allowed to leave Italy without first being married, and were married by proxy, with their husbands waiting patiently for them in Australia. We are treated to a beautiful story from one interviewee deciding to come to Australia after seeing a picture of her future husband, and creating a beautiful family together.

“… sometimes destiny takes you there whether we believe it or not.”

 

 

Some viewers will find it amusing that even then, through well-written letters and years-old photographs, men were catfishing women into marriage. So not many of these proxy weddings were meant to last.

We hear not only from Italian migrants, but also from politicians, activists, magazine editors, chefs, business owners, singers, and more. The women on the screen are inspiring, well spoken, and beautifully dressed. Some chose to speak in Italian, some in English, and some a little of both, but they all share the same passion for their heritage, and their homes.

The focus for the documentary is on how Italian women have been quiet, hard-working building blocks in Australia, but we can’t ignore the stories of how they have been girl-bossing since they found their way to Australia. From keeping their families afloat while the men were taken away to internment camps, to finding themselves smack in the middle of the “man’s world” and refusing to back down, these proud women are an inspiration to everyone.

Through the documentary we are told, and shown, the Italian outlook on life: Anything is possible. And these women prove that.

“Life is most beautiful when it is diverse.” Tina Arena.

To book tickets to Signorinella: Little Miss (Italian Film Festival), please visit https://italianfilmfestival.com.au/films/iff25-signorinella-little-miss.

Spread the word on your favourite platform!