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‘Suspended Time’ Review: Olivier Assayas’ Sunny Indulgence Returns Us to the Early Days of Lockdown

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‘Suspended Time’ Review: Olivier Assayas’ Sunny Indulgence Returns Us to the Early Days of Lockdown

If any part of you has been curious as to how French filmmaker Olivier Assayas spent the early days of the global pandemic, along comes “Suspended Time” to answer your question, with very much the answer you might expect: pretty comfortably, thanks for asking. Alternating a thinly fictionalised portrait of the artist isolating at his family’s country home with fully autobiographical narration by the director himself, this mildly amusing but vastly indulgent bagatelle feels a tardy entry in the first wave of lockdown cinema — too late to feel fresh, but still too soon to have accumulated much meaningful perspective on an experience we all remember too well. Assayas devotees will take some pleasure in its formal fillips and self-references. Others need not apply.

At its most interesting — and quietly gossipy, if you are so minded — “Suspended Time” could be read as a reply work of sorts to “Bergman Island,” a more ornate but similarly self-reflexive 2021 film by Assayas’ ex-partner Mia Hansen-Løve. Written in the wake of their separation, Hansen-Løve’s film mused somewhat tartly on the challenges of preserving one’s sense of self while maintaining a relationship with an older artist who regards you as a subject as well as a lover. Played by Tim Roth, said artist was plainly modeled on Assayas. Now, Assayas’ latest features a clear Hansen-Løve proxy: Flavia (Maud Wyler), now split from the helmer’s alter ego Paul (Vincent Macaigne), sternly smokes and dispenses passive-aggressive criticism over Zoom as they negotiate the upbringing of their daughter Britt (Magdalena Lafont) in a time of moderate crisis. As public celebrity flame wars go, this is as civil and sun-dappled as they come.

Flavia is only an intermittent presence in “Suspended Time,” however, and the film dwells minimally on their past — instead presenting Paul, pandemic anxieties notwithstanding, in a placid and happily loved-up present. It’s April 2020, and the filmmaker is waiting out the lockdown in his rambling rural childhood home in Chevreuse, a sleepy commune south of Paris. The house, cluttered and creaky and book-lined, is still in much the state of luxuriously bohemian disarray that his late parents left it, with a tennis court nestled in the sprawling, verdantly overgrown garden. It’s pretty much the model of where everyone would like to have isolated for months on end, give or take the additional presence of Etienne (Micha Lescot), Paul’s rakish music-journo brother.

Paul and Etienne’s respective girlfriends, Morgane (Nina D’Urso) and Carole (Nora Hamzawi), complete a ragtag domestic quartet, and the film’s scant dramatic conflict hinges on the minor irritations that bristle between them — familiar to anyone who felt a little too close to their nearest and dearest in those strange, out-of-time months. There’s minor-key comedy in the brothers’ odd-couple differences — Etienne is coolly unflappable, if a bit of a poseur, while Paul is a twitchy neurotic — that flare up when they attempt to cook together or squabble over the ethics of Amazon purchases. But only once Carole departs, and an unleashed Etienne finally gets candid about Paul’s self-absorbed failings, does that friction gesture at something deeper.

For the most part, however, this is an uncompellingly pleasant house arrest, shot with bleached, summery warmth by Eric Gautier, and filled with meandering, high-minded conversations about Paul’s literary and artistic hobby-horses. “Enough about David Hockney,” Morgane instructs him toward the film’s end — speaking for the audience, though not soon enough. Beyond such occasional interventions, neither of the female characters is drawn in terribly illuminating detail.

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Running semi-jokes about mask-wearing anxiety and hygiene theater feel entirely played out by 2024, and well beneath Assayas’ abilities as a writer, while Paul’s sporadic fretting about career stasis and creative blockage is countered by others reminding him of his rampant privilege. That the film calls out its own navel-gazing only makes it feel more removed from any potential audience: What’s our stake in Assayas arguing with himself?

It’s when Assayas drops the autofiction conceit to directly articulate his relationship to the house and its surroundings — via his own characterful, faintly melancholic voiceover — that “Suspended Time” takes on greater emotional heft, emerging as something of a parallel piece to Assayas’ lovely 2008 drama “Summer Hours” in its reflection on family spaces, heirlooms and their lingering resonance. It’s genuinely moving to hear Assayas talking about his father’s untouched office chair, or the regular running route he carved out as a teenager dreaming of eventual escape, now retraced with older, more complacent steps. Droll as Macaigne’s skewed Assayas impersonation is — to the very select audience that will even recognize it as such — this auteur curio might have been richer as a first-person documentary, minus the Covid-era observations that feel specific to everyone and no one at once.

Movie Reviews

The Breadwinner (Christian Movie Review) – The Collision

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The Breadwinner (Christian Movie Review) – The Collision

About the Film 

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On the Surface

For Consideration

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Beneath The Surface

Engage The Film

Family Dynamics

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  • Daniel holds a PhD in “Christianity and the Arts” from The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. He is the author/co-author of multiple books and he speaks in churches and schools across the country on the topics of Christian worldview, apologetics, creative writing, and the Arts.

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‘Blast’ movie review: An unlikely family packs a punch in this largely gripping but patchy film

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‘Blast’ movie review: An unlikely family packs a punch in this largely gripping but patchy film

A Karate master father, a homemaker mother, and a pharmacist uncle. The life of IT professional Nila (a fantastic Preity Mukundhan) seems quite simple and benevolent — she goes to her office, plays video games on her mobile, and spends time in her uncle’s medical shop, grudgingly looking at an old television set he refuses to let go. Nila’s life, to an unassuming viewer, may not seem anything too extraordinary. Still, one key piece of information reveals that perhaps this must be the kind of ‘family life’ backdrop that most assuredly camouflages a superhero origin story. Nila isn’t just any other ordinary human, and neither is that Karate master, homemaker, or pharmacist. Blast, directed by Subash K Raj, is a martial arts actioner pegged around one very potent Drishyam-esque idea — what if a family of martial arts pros is forced to step out of their normal lives to fight against injustice when nefarious men find their door? And director Subash comes off in flying colours by conceptualising a terrific set-up that makes use of this idea.

The beating heart of the story is Preity Mukundhan’s Nila, who avoids becoming a merely gender-swapped routine action hero. There’s real moral and emotional backing to why Preity is the way she is, and Subash allows her the time to make her case. Nila’s quest started when she was a child. As she fumed with rage due to a ragging incident, her father, Rajaram (Arjun), told her, “fight back if you are in the right” and “fight against injustice even if the victims are strangers.”

Preity Mukundhan in a still from ‘Blast’

Preity Mukundhan in a still from ‘Blast’
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

And the introductory scene to the now-grown-up Nila’s bravado is inherently gripping. A goon is sent flying into a rowdy’s den, and a perplexed henchman walks out to find the “man who hit” his colleague, urging Nila to step aside, because it can’t be a woman, isn’t it? Nila enters, and so does mayhem. In fact, one of the smartest choices Subash makes is in how he retains this inherent, normalised sexism in how the men see Nila throughout. In a later instance, a villain looks past Rajaram and Nila because they seem like an ordinary father and daughter. Where Subash takes a misstep is in how he treats a sexual harassment arc featuring Nila and her abusive manager; it makes way for a good masala cinema moment, but Subash laces it with humour, and it neither reveals anything new nor does it seem to care to extend the idea that the world Nila lives in is already calibrated to look down on women and feast on their vulnerabilities. Also, you begin to get slightly impatient as the film keeps revelling in the idea that a woman is bringing all the action — when will the conflict arise?

Blast (Tamil)

Director: Subash K Raj

Cast: Preity Mukundhan, Arjun, Abhirami, Vivek Prasanna

Runtime: 144 minutes

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Storyline: A fiercesome woman, along with her martial artist parents, vows to take down a corrupt syndicate

Nila constantly gets into trouble as she refuses to bow down in the face of injustice, to the pride of her father, but to the dismay of her mother, Neelaveni (Abhirami, too, can kick some bottoms). And it doesn’t take much to guess where the setting is headed. We simultaneously begin to follow the making of a Black Opal mining scam that an evil businessman, Varun Dhayalan (John Kokken), is spearheading. The project, which puts the hillside village of Keelakadu in danger, would bring in ₹7000 crores worth of minerals, of which a minister (PL Thenappan) takes ₹1000 crores. This whole arc operates like a rather convoluted spiral of villainy — helping Varun move the money needed to bribe the minister is a dreaded assassin named Abraham (Arjun Chidambaram), and helping Abraham is a gangster named Kirubhakaran (Pawan), and under him works a henchman whose friend is a low-life chain snatcher, Toby (Vinod Sagar), and Toby gets caught in a station where Inspector Arunagiri (Dileepan) is investigating Abraham’s identity, and under Arunagiri works a corrupt cop who wants Kirubha’s help to save his job. I guess you could already see where Blast might have derailed.

A lion’s share of screentime is accorded to explain each step in this often yawn-inducing villain saga, all while you are patiently waiting to see the tip of the whirlpool land on Nila’s doorstep and suck her martial arts family in. When it does, it is as explosive as you expect, at least until the intermission mark. While these unidimensional villains test your patience — only Arjun Chidambaram is written and presented with flair — you are left waiting for the next high moment, especially since Subash seems to have a knack for staging such mass-y scenes. But again, how much can Preity and Arjun do when the writing begins to dip into cliches and conveniences? After a point, Blast turns out to be quite tedious in the final act, making you wonder how a leaner, crisper, and more anchored screenplay could have been.

Arjun and Abhirami in a still from ‘Blast’

Arjun and Abhirami in a still from ‘Blast’
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

All that aside, however, what truly fascinates one is how, despite Blast being helmed by a male director and starring an action star like Arjun, it moves around its female protagonist, Nila, and every major decision is made keeping the two central women as opposing but counterbalancing poles — Neelaveni’s moral anchor prioritising the family’s peaceful life above all, and Nila’s moral anchor pushing them to be knights of justice. In fact, even in one of the most pivotal moments of the film, the choice to decide a villain’s fate is placed rightfully on Nila’s shoulders. It is great to see Arjun take a step back to let Abhirami and Preity shine, while Vivek Prasanna, as Nila’s pharmacist uncle, gets a Jailer-esque moment that is sure to become a highlight in his career. Helping all of them are the able technicians, be it the sharp, slick cinematography, innovative and adrenaline-pumping action choreography, and Ravi Basrur’s assured music choices.

That said, Blast is a Preity Mukundhan show all along, and the Star-actor knows how to pack a punch, alright! In a different film, where more ingenious ideas are spring-loaded for mass elevations, Blast would have truly become her career-defining big bang.

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Blast is currently running in theatres

Published – May 29, 2026 02:50 pm IST

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‘The Blow’ Review: A Gripping, Feverishly Performed French Drama Explores Incest With Candor and Emotion

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‘The Blow’ Review: A Gripping, Feverishly Performed French Drama Explores Incest With Candor and Emotion

For his bracing first feature, The Blow (La Frappe), writer-director Julien Gaspar-Oliveri chose a subject so bleak, many filmmakers wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. And yet this raw and grippingly honest incest drama manages to find a bit of light in the darkness, showing how it’s possible to live with the traumas of sexual abuse. Feverishly performed by newcomer Diego Murgia, who stars alongside César award winner Bastien Bouillon, Gaspar-Oliveri’s moving debut reveals that he’s not only a talented director to watch, but one who’s unafraid to tackle tough scenarios.

The Blow focuses on a disarmingly troubled young man, Enzo (Murgia), who tries so hard to find affection in the eyes of his dad, Anthony (Bouillon), he’s willing to ignore the worst thing a father could ever do to his own son. Enzo spends much of the film in a crushing state of denial, hoping against hope that love will somehow emerge from this mess. He’s so vulnerable that you can’t help feeling his pain — even when he winds up inflicting that pain on others.

The Blow

The Bottom Line

A powerful debut tackles a tough subject.

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Venue: Cannes Film Festival (Critics’ Week)
Cast: Diego Murgia, Bastien Bouillon, Romane Fringeli, Héloïse Volle
Director: Julien Gaspar-Oliveri
Screenwriters: Julien Gaspar-Oliveri, Claudia Bottino

1 hour 46 minutes

Per the press notes, Gaspar-Oliveri (who co-created the successful high school series, Those Who Blush) partially based the story (co-written with Claudia Bottino) on his own life, which seems evident given the emotional authenticity of his characters. Murgia’s portrayal of Enzo is the movie’s breakthrough performance, although Romane Fringeli, who plays the 19-year-old’s abrasive older sister, Carla, is also a standout. Bouillon, meanwhile, continues a string of strong turns (including in The Birthday Party, which screened in Cannes’ main competition this year) that began back in 2022 with Dominik Moll’s thriller The Night of the 12th.

The opening scene, lensed by Martin Rit in grainy close-ups, shows Enzo and Carla carelessly sleeping in bed together, their bodies subtly rising and falling with each breath. It seems like a blissful moment between the two siblings, who share a tight if volatile bond. But as the film progresses and we learn more about their childhood, that scene takes on a very different meaning: one in which proximity can breed both affection and contempt.

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With no parents in the picture and Carla moving out to a college dorm, Enzo’s whole life seems to be in front of him. It helps that he has a burgeoning and very loving relationship with new girlfriend Laura (Héloïse Volle), whose parents run a go-kart track that seems to be the main source of entertainment in their working-class suburb of Marseille.

But the state of independence Enzo has achieved at such a young age is broken when his dad returns home after a five-year stint in prison. A scene in which the two discuss Anthony’s future with a parole officer underlines to what extent Enzo has become the man of the household, hiring his own father to help sell kitchen appliances at local flea markets.

Bouillon creates a charming if menacing presence from the get-go, portraying Anthony as a father who’s been out of the loop for too long with regards to both family and civilian life, yet still wants to be in charge. In one sequence foreshadowing what’s to come, Enzo hides in a closet while his dad brings a woman home from the bar, witnessing some awkward and then off-putting sexual behavior. A latter scene in which the boy climbs in bed with Anthony reveals much worse, although it takes Gaspar-Oliveri a while to explain what exactly went down in the past.

What’s most moving about The Blow — whose French title can mean both a physical hit and a young hoodlum — is the way it charts Enzo’s gradual awakening from a kid who’s still too attached to his father, mostly for terrible reasons, to an adult who finally steps back and sees the truth, at which point the trauma is so overwhelming that it takes over. This happens during several explosive scenes in which Enzo lashes out at those who truly love him (his girlfriend; his sister, who wants nothing to do with their dad), searching in vain for someone to quell the suffering.

Murgia is a revelation here, playing a loose cannon who’s also deeply wounded, like a battered dog occasionally showing his teeth and sometimes biting those who feed him. The early moments in the drama, when Enzo is trying his best to please Anthony after he gets out of jail, offering to cook dinner or lending him a few bucks, will just about break your heart. Because deep down, Enzo knows that by getting closer to his dad, he’s also getting further away from his own recovery. It’s the constant push and pull between trauma and salvation that makes The Blow such a powerful experience.

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