Release Date – TBC, Cert – N/A, Run-time – 1 hour 52 minutes, Director – Jung Bum-shik

A group of strangers find themselves walking into increasingly strange, and occasionally deadly, situations within their everyday lives.

New Normal is perhaps one of the most baffling films I have seen in quite some time. Largely down to the fact that I, or anyone else in the screening for that matter, never really seemed to know what it was trying to do. A series of vignette’s tend to be linked via murders and deaths, perhaps all by the same killer. There’s an obviousness to such moments as things are generally tracked with little to hook you in or find interest. It’s a dull, boring set of events that simply moves along rather slowly. Yet, there’s an underlying sense of something else which is explored later on within the almost two hour run-time. A strange sense of self-knowing which comes into play almost halfway through.

As we see a young man following a trail of notes left in vending machines to potentially meet his soulmate – from blood type to zodiac sign – there’s a level of interest that’s sprouted. Yes, we have to get past him Googling how many steps in 100 metres first, but still as the segment goes on there’s something to maybe like about it. Perhaps it’s the fact that it moves a long a bit more quickly than what has come before, alongside simply having more going on too. Regardless, there may be ridiculous elements to this particular strand, but it’s these which, to some extent, make it a more enjoyable portion.

From then on you never quite know if the film is travelling along with a kind of self-aware nature or not. If certain points are meant to be played for laughs or not. This even being the case within a Peeping Tom (the chapters are titled after various films) segment following another young man, spending his time in his apartment playing video games when he’s not filming his neighbour without her knowing, literally breaking into his neighbour’s apartment and getting up to some rather creepy activity – not including “I’m brushing my teeth with her toothbrush. Indirect kiss”. In fact, much of the film can simply be defined as weird and strange, and not in the best way. More in an off-putting sense which distances you from the film as a whole instead of a comedic manner which engages you with a knowing wink-and-nudge humour.

By the time the final stages arrive, and things have started to slightly pick up, although still within an air of confusion, we arrive at another drawn out segment. Forcibly bringing the characters and their scenarios together in what feels like a deeply lazy and extended set of events which leave, once again, little to be interested in. The final result for New Normal is both messy and confusing. It starts off truly bad, and while it shows glimpses of finding its feet in some strange area of uncertain self-awareness it stumbles and falters again down a path of poor construction and little substance.

New Normal is a confusing piece of work that starts to hint that it might be in on its own joke before caving in again and simply leaving a messy pile of unengaging character interactions in its path.

Release Date – TBC, Cert – N/A, Run-time – 1 hour 30 minutes, Director – Tim Mackenzie-Smith

Documentary looking at the work and influence of eclectic 70s band Cymande.

“I always wanted the bass to be an instrument that speaks” explains Steve Scipio in an interview delving into the various elements of the music of eclectic 70s band Cymande. It’s one of the many elements which led the band to have growing influence outside of their initial run together through being sampled in multiple tracks over the years. There’s a clear love and respect as shown by other artists and DJs who exclaim their experiences with Cymande’s music, fondly remembering the first time they heard it rumbling through the speakers.

Yet, our initial engagement comes through the band in the present day. Whilst we see them looking back on the 70s and the major South London locations in their lives there’s a fair deal of good humour from each member which helps to ease the viewer into the documentary following them. It allows us to engage more with them and the various genres of music they delved into, including soul, funk and jazz. When looking at the band themselves the film is at its most interesting. Where it begins to deviate is as it takes a look at the reception to their work, and the way in which it was sampled in further tracks over the years.

Interviews start to overlap and repeat each other, bringing in the style of a more standard music doc. While what’s there is still watchable and has your interest it seems to gradually lean away from that initial point of engagement: the band themselves. The focus becomes how their music was used after going their separate ways. The ways in which it was sampled, eventually leading over the strands about how it was adapted to other styles and genres, only really manage to go so far in the film’s second half.

While a key point of this section there are still elements looking at the band themselves, largely how they’ve reformed in the present day and the new found success that they’ve had. It further shows how they’re the biggest drawing factor of the documentary thanks to the clear passion they have for music and the humour which they share and put across. While the film might lean away from this for extended periods of time it eventually comes back to them and reminds us of just who and what spawned the initial praise we see in multiple interviews throughout.

The highlight of Getting It Back: The Story Of Cymande is undeniably the band themselves, their passion for music and humour is the biggest source of engagement amongst the eventual leanings away into slightly overlapping interviews.

Release Date – 16th June 2023, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 22 minutes, Director – Fridtjof Ryder

After returning home after time in a psychiatric hospital a young man (Rory Alexander) begins to delve into his past and disappeared mother.

There’s a divide between the naturalistic and the arthouse within writer-director Fridtjof Ryder’s feature debut Inland. While we enter into the more direct nature of the world in the well-settled first act, seeing Rory Alexander’s ‘Man’ re-entering his home in Gloucester after what seems like time in a psychiatric ward. He meets the friendly figure of Mark Rylance’s mechanic Dunleavey who takes him in, although the impression is that everything might not be as it seems. However, as the film goes on it asks whether this is actually the case with Rylance’s character or the protagonist.

We follow ‘Man’ – as he’s named in the credits – as he begins to lightly delve into past whilst searching for clues to his disappeared mother. As we delve more into this element of the narrative tones of mystery and ambiguity become more prominent. They contrast with the more naturalistic tones which open the film causing it to feel as if you’re settling into an almost different film.

There are still some good moments dotted here and there within the short 82 minute run-time, however not quite enough to truly lift from the more ambiguous moments where you’re not sure what to make of what’s going on. This particularly being the case with the third act which features more extended moments along these lines, especially in the build-up to the ending. It removes most of the interest in the lines of mystery which are set up beforehand meaning that the more the film goes on the more it seems to push you away.

It’s a shame for something which starts off with quiet promise through the subtle mystery of the naturalistic tones and performances of the opening stages. There may be moments throughout which help to bring back interest as they go back to this style and continue a more direct style of light narrative in this manner. There’s even some engagement within the initial leanings into more less-obvious stylings, however the more the film walks into this territory, especially in the final stages, the more it seems to lose itself, and the viewer’s attention.

While it may start off with quiet interest through the more direct naturalism the more Inland leans into its more ambiguous arthouse stylings the more it distances itself from the viewer, despite occasional patches which bring back the former.

Release Date – TBC, Cert – N/A, Run-time – 1 hour 33 minutes, Director – Alberto Vázquez

A group of teddy bears are rapidly trained to be sent to war against the unicorns of the forest, however they’re not prepared for just how brutal it will be.

There are many comparisons and ‘cross-betweens’ that can be, and have been, made about Unicorn Wars. However, it’s perhaps best described by its base idea. Teddy bears at war. A brightly coloured parade of cuddly characters are sent off, after a quick round of training, to war against the unicorns of an unfamiliar forest – having had it drilled into them that teddy bears are the master race and that all unicorns should be dead. However, none of the ensemble, or for that fact the audience, are prepared for just how brutal the fight will be.

There’s a surprise early on in the film when during a scene in the communal showers of the training camp – branding the phrase “Honour, Pain and Cuddles” – where we’re shown a lot more teddy bear penis than might have initially been expected. It’s an amusing shock which let’s us know exactly what this kind of film is going to be, until the next stage where things are ramped up even more. In the forest we see characters ripped apart, bloodied and beaten amongst the true horrors of semi-magical warfare, where some a more up for the fight than others. There’s certainly a fair deal of humour to be found, largely in the clearer scenes such as one of the strangest drug trips to be put on screen in the last few years.

It’s in the more dramatic leanings where things feel a bit less balanced. While in some instances the tonal variation works it’s sometimes uncertain just how much due to it often being presented in, or against the backdrop of, the light of the comedic elements. Especially when certain elements of the warfare are presented with rather clear satirical edges, particularly leaning into an over-the-top or fantastical nature to create the humour.

Such dramatic elements are clearer in the second half of the film as we begin to see more of the characters and the way that they interact with the world around them, particularly two central siblings who have rather different views on the war in general, or at least attitudes to combat style. It leads to a feeling that things, even at just 93 minutes, are a bit narratively drawn out, starting to dampen the film as a whole. Much of this, again, largely comes down to the clash between the comedic and the dramatic. The two simply never quite join together properly meaning that you can often see, and feel, the joins and gaps throughout the film making for a slightly bumpier ride than is initially started.

There’s amusement and chuckles to be had with Unicorn Wars, you’d hope so with that concept, however the more dramatic and narrative elements cause for an uneven ride as they never quite blend with the more fantastical, and at times just plain weird, edges.

Release Date – 1st September 2023, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 25 minutes, Director – Neil Maskell

A government whistle-blower (Amit Shah) and his wife (Sura Dohnke) must wait in a remote Belgian cottage with two armed bodyguards (Tom Burke, Roger Evans) whilst they await the arrival of a journalist (Jenna Coleman)

With Klokkenluider Neil Maskell proves just how broad the branches can reach, and themselves be, from the initial roots of dark humour. Through anxiety, fear, awkwardness and struggling-to-play-to-character there’s plenty to laugh at throughout the simple premise of the film. It’s one that could perhaps be played out on stage, yet thanks to Maskell’s writing and direction, and the performances of the small cast, there’s plenty to help make this fit the screen.

We meet Ewan (Amit Shah) – a man who is “pretty much in a state of permanent f*cking panic” – and his wife Silke (Sura Dohnke) residing in a remote cottage in Belgium. An innocent trip to the bakery in the nearby village is soon twisted as Ewan fears that it might give away the location he and his wife are at, especially whilst they wait for bodyguards to arrive. The reason for their escape, and the protection, is due to their impending whistleblowing after the government IT worker discovers shocking secrets whilst at work – secrets which are sustained with mystery and threat throughout as we never discover what they are. Once the tough-guy figures of Tom Burke and Roger Evans arrive all that’s needed is the journalist (Jenna Coleman) to leak the story to.

Unprofessionalism rises as the bottles are opened, and indeed Evans’ character finds it difficult to keep his own secrets – “you’re about as hush hush as Metallica”. We see him and Burke struggle with each other as the ‘tough-guy’ schtick is quickly dropped. While they try to keep that persona in such an unexpected and unconventional situation it’s difficult to do so, providing a number of laughs both from them and the responses of Shah and Dohnke. This is a true ensemble comedy and the performances all bounce off each other excellently with the various gags which crop up throughout, gaining plenty of response. All helping to push and proceed the simple premise.

Yet, no one manages to outshine Jenna Coleman as soon as she properly walks onto the scene. Bringing a gloriously sweary performance which could rival Ralph Fiennes in In Bruges she powers through them all twice-over within a minute or two of being on screen. Pushing forward the next stage of the film in a way only her character could in this film it’s a fantastic show-stealing performance which manages to bring in the following stages of true darkness, and potential tension, as the film begins to play with its elements of mystery to bring the viewer further in as the reveal of the reason for all of these events comes more into play.

In the build up we have a film about waiting and the humour of it, tinged with the anxiety of consequences and holding potentially vital information. While only 85 minutes long the film manages to pack plenty of laughs in to its conversations and interactions. Rattling along quickly while managing to get across the feeling and humour of an awkward, drawn-out evening. Maskell himself has worked with Ben Wheatley in the past and there are certainly tones of his style in this particular film. Held within the darkness, portrayed in both tone, structure and performances. It all comes together to create something highly entertaining within the lightly sinister edges.

There’s plenty of darkness wound into Klokkenluider, mixed into the humour of anxiety and waiting the performances highlight all of this within the frequently funny conversations and contrasting characters, including a triumphantly sweary standout turn from Jenna Coleman.

Release Date – TBC, Cert – N/A, Run-time – 1 hour 24 minutes, Director – Frederik Nørgaard

When her outdated, childish robot friend (Lars Brygmann, Kristian Holm Joensen) becomes a source of embarrassment Alberte (Selma Iljazovski) is gifted a new updated model (Philip Elbech Andresen) which is able to do more than any other robot at her school.

There’s often a clear line between a family film and a kids film. My Robot Brother may present itself as something more for slightly younger kids with its exaggerated nature and stylings, however there’s no denying that the silliness that’s a part of it allows for a good few chuckles for the older audience members. Much of this comes from Robbi (voiced by Lars Brygmann and physically performed by Kristian Holm Joensen), a tall, bulky, patched up brown robot. Looking like a kids toy that’s somehow been zapped with a growth ray he’s a big, clumsy, cuddly character plucked straight from a children’s cartoon. In many ways this is how he’s designed to be, he treats the young girl he’s designed to be the friend to like she’s much younger than she is. In a number of ways, while there may be a fondness towards the childhood robot there’s an increasing sense of embarrassment.

When Alberte’s (Selma Iljazovski) tech-obsessed parents (Lise Baastrup, Kristian Ibler) – almost always in some form of VR space – give in and buy her a yet-to-be-released new model things begin to turn around for her. Konrad (Philip Elbech Andresen) has many abilities which it seems no other robot at school has. He makes Alberte instantly more popular, however perhaps not everything is as it seems. Thus the film begins to travel down some slightly predictable and conventional lines. However, it’s clear stylings and target audience might just give it something of a slight pass.

Although, the bigger pass might be down to the silliness within the film. So many situations are heightened and exaggerated simply for a laugh, with a handful of decent chuckles scattered throughout the film. Sometimes it may not always be with the piece, or only half with it, but there’s still an undeniable entertainment factor present. Much of which comes from the clumsiness and general existence of Robbi. The character who most sums up the tones of the film, reaching the to the younger audience and most demonstrating the ways in which the film clearly doesn’t take itself too seriously.

My Robot Brother may be highly conventional and targeted more towards a younger audience, however there’s enough chuckles within it to help move things along and make for a likable enough piece of work for the time it’s on. Yes, like scene-stealer Robbi things may be a bit clumpy and overdone, but there’s also amusement to be found within this. Things stay relatively engaging and watchable and by the end, particularly with an audience, there are a fair few giggles to be had thanks to the pure cartoonishness of a number of instances throughout. Just sit back, turn your mind off and have a good, slightly absurd chuckle.

My Robot Brother absolutely targets a younger audience, however there’s enough silliness within its conventional narrative to provide a good amount of giggles and amusement for the time it’s on.

Release Date – TBC, Cert – N/A, Run-time – 1 hour 37 minutes, Director – Sébastien Lifshitz

The story of the Casa Susanna, a safe haven away from the rest of society in the late ’50s where people could go to express their gender identity and sexuality.

There’s something of a wistful nature to Casa Susanna’s reflection of the late-50s and early-60s. It comes across in the cinematography of present day scenes where figures who found safety within the small walls of the escape haven re-meet to reminisce and discuss the effect of the titular building. While now slightly washed of colour and surrounded by overgrown grass we see plenty of colour and vibrancy in the images of the past. It’s as if it’s still present for the aging figures we hear from throughout the film.

The Casa Susanna was a place in the Catskills where people were allowed to express themselves and explore their gender identity and sexuality with no judgement. Men would come for a weekend of safety away from the judgement of the outside. Whether gay, transgender or transvestite there was a clear openness and acceptance from all others in the small spaces. The joint effect, and indeed individual response to cross-dressing is referred at one point as an “almost out of body experience. It was so powerful”. We see and hear a number of personal stories with emotional tinges throughout, adding to the overall wistful feel. All helping to push a feeling of celebration and freedom which must have been present within the walls of the central building.

It’s as the film slightly drifts away to the outside world where things become slightly more familiar. Not so much in the responses to certain figures’ sexualities and identities but more the general perception of LGBT people in society at the time, particularly in the cities. It’s around this point where in general the film moves away from focusing on the Casa Susanna as a whole and more on the effects that it had. There’s still interest in such elements, particularly with the hints of celebration which are still present, however there is a feeling of something a step away from the initial focus – due to the bridge in-between – meaning that there’s perhaps not as much engagement as there was beforehand.

Therefore things begin to feel somewhat lengthy – even at only 97 minutes. While not by too much there is the feeling that things could be somewhat cut down, or even put into a short documentary about the freedom of expression provided, with some of the effects. However, for what is present here there’s enough to like and engage with, particularly when it comes to the way in which the film and its participants look back at what were for them the good old days. Yet good old days which continued and allowed them to progress – “it wasn’t that the urge was increasing, but that time was passing” is a key phrase about identity which especially strikes within the film’s themes and surroundings. It’s these elements which bring about the most interest and engagement and allow for the true effect of the Casa Susanna to come through just that bit more.

While it might feel slightly lengthy as it moves away from the titular haven itself Casa Susanna still has plenty of wistfulness to help move it along and engage the viewer in its story of identity celebration.