An ancient saying posits that you can never step into the same river twice. That also applies to the innovative documentary “Eno.” Filmmaker Gary Hustwit (“Helvetica”), collaborating with creative technologist Brendan Dawes, developed new generative software that draws from more than 500 hours of footage, as well as extensive contemporary interviews, to produce a unique version of the film each time it’s shown.

The approach fits the subject: pathbreaking English composer, producer and thinker Brian Eno, a onetime glam rocker who became famous for his work with Talking Heads, David Bowie and U2, and for christening an entirely new genre of music with his 1978 album, “Ambient 1: Music for Airports.” Now 76, the artist had long waved off filmmaker entreaties but was finally intrigued enough to take part in a technological experiment that mirrored a process he embraced decades ago.

“It opens up a whole other universe of ways to tell stories cinematically,” says Hustwit, joined by Dawes in a recent Zoom conversation from their respective offices in the Hudson Valley and Southport, England. “We come back and watch films again because we love that world that’s been created, but why does that world have to be exactly the same every single time?”

Since its world premiere at the 2024 Sundance Film Festival, “Eno,” which has been shortlisted for Academy Award consideration, has played in some 500 of its nearly limitless potential iterations (52 quintillion is the official estimate). “It’s a totally different beast,” Dawes says. “That’s the beauty of the system, is that you can keep adding stuff. It’s never really finished.”

In two recent screenings, the film shuffles a wealth of archival material (Eno in his peacock era playing with Roxy Music, in the studio with U2 and Bowie) with more recent conversations at Eno’s home studio, where he talks about compositional techniques, musical influences and creative philosophy. There are glimpses of the artist leading a public sing-along and headlining a speaking engagement before a packed audience. (Tellingly, he reflects on how he nervously prepared a written speech, then discovered he’d forgotten to bring it.)

These components aren’t necessarily any different than those in most music documentaries, although they focus strongly on ideas and concepts rather than a tidy biographical arc. But they are assorted and resorted in abrupt, unpredictable ways that keep the eyes and mind jumping. Hustwit estimates that about 70% of the scenes vary with each version, although the moments that bookend each are consistent.

Brian Eno in the documentary ‘Eno.’

(Film First/Brain One)

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“People are bored with the streaming experience,” says Hustwit, taking note of media saturation, social and otherwise. “We’re all filmmakers now. We’re experiencing audiovisual material all the time in a way we never have before as a culture, and that’s got to be reflected in the cinema.”

Although it may be easy to assume that the software used for the project might take over the role of a conventional film editor, Hustwit explains it was quite the opposite. “There’s much more editing involved than anything else, because we’re working with much more footage than you’re seeing in a given iteration of the film,” he says. The film’s editors, Maya Tippett and Marley McDonald, were “used to a very different type of storytelling in constructing a documentary. It was combining their need to control the story with Brendan’s desire to make it completely different, completely random, and celebrate that there’s no control. That push and pull allowed us to land on where the film is now.”

Audiences everywhere can discover that for themselves on Jan. 24. For the anniversary of its Sundance premiere, “Eno” will be livestreamed globally as part of a 24-hour event scheduled to feature DJ sets, special guests, multiple screenings of the film and a version of its prequel, “Nothing Can Ever Be the Same,” which was presented at the 2023 Venice Biennale as a 168-hour video installation. “It’s like a 24-hour Eno channel,” Hustwit says.

Going forward, the filmmakers are figuring out how to productively share what they’ve learned with other artists. “We want to tell stories,” Hustwit says. “We don’t necessarily want to crunch code. We want to see what the technology that we’ve created can do with other people’s ideas. I’m sure people are going to come up with ideas that are far beyond what Brendan and I could have dreamed.”

Rom Coms, the ones that match the endearing and intelligent with equal fluency, have a scintillating flavor. The book of tricks to make a romcom sing and soar may have admittedly gone jaded and dog-eared. The crises of couples, dilemmas, and anxieties they have to battle have undergone dramatic changes in a fast-evolving world. Expectations vary with the decades, even as gendered rules haven’t dented much.

The urge to steal a leaf or two from every standard template Hollywood romcom is immanent in any new derivation. It becomes a constant tussle, hence, for a new film in similar spaces to eke out freshness and smarts. Jonathan Jurilla’s directorial “Love Child” (2024) has little to add or say anything genuinely sparkling. It’s a weary distillation of parental exhaustion and re-alignment, too silly to pass off what it views as clever self-reflexive remarks.

There are basic cardinal rules a romcom must ensure is upheld. Conflicts should ideally resonate across a demographic; humor needs to exist in spades. A helping of self-awareness goes a long way in establishing a winking playfulness. The best rom-coms sail through these assumptions with lightness and spryness.

Love Child (2024) Plot Summary & Movie Synopsis:

Ayla and Paolo’s Journey of Love, Sacrifice, and Resilience

Ayla (Jane Oineza) and Paolo (RK Bagatsing) are young parents. Incidentally, the actors themselves are a couple in real life, who call the film a “free trial” to parenthood. Ayla and Paolo have been exultant about becoming parents but what awaits them is a whole lot of instability, fraught periods of testing faith in each other to weather the hardships of raising their child, Kali (John Tyrron Ramos) who is diagnosed with autism. It’s this diagnosis that opens the film and sends their lives into a tailspin. The two have fought with their families on several counts to realize their togetherness. Dreams have also been put on hold. Paolo is a filmmaker who desires to make it big but naturally meets resistance from his father, from whom he has cut loose.

They arrive in the Philippines to put up at the house that Ayla’s aunt has offered. They don’t have to worry about rent, an exponential anxiety hence taken care of. The first thing they get done is to enroll Kali at a school for children with support needs. They hope he can be addressed with due attention and be given proper time, nourished in a safe, loving, and understanding community.

How Far Will Ayla and Paolo Go to Secure a Future for Their Son?

Of course, things don’t go as smoothly. The money to raise the child is immense, formidable, and persistent. It’s no small task. To exacerbate matters, the couple has no savings to lean on. Ayla has just a small income from a virtual assistant job and Paolo has barely any gigs to draw a livelihood from in the Philippines.

At home back in Australia, opportunities were, at least, higher. Sources of supporting themselves stand a chance. The couple start a coffee cart as an added source of income. Even that isn’t enough. Customers are few. To run the cart is its own demanding affair that strains their purses more than they expected it to.

One night, Kali falls terribly sick. His parents rush him to the hospital, where medical expenses surge. Where will the couple find the money to foot the bill? They are at wit’s end. Pao assures Ayla not to worry. He’ll dredge out a way. However, when he is away scavenging for a source, Ayla already turns to her mother who lends her the needed money. He is angry with her because Ayla’s mother has been refusing to recognize Kali as her grandson. She tells him, if they waited longer, they’d be staring at an added day of hospital expenses.

Love Child (2024) Movie Ending Explained:

Do Ayla and Paolo find a way of raising their child?

Ayla and Paolo are compelled to employ specialized teachers and attendants for Kali. The cost of living becomes exceedingly high. How can they afford it? Ultimately, they edge toward the pained but necessary realization that they have to live apart at least for a while. If that’s the only way they can build a decent future for Kali, they can’t ignore it. What’s significant and decisive is both Ayla and Paolo are wholly committed to being there for Kali, no matter what it takes, as well as underscoring the need to go out and chase their individual aspirations.

Yes, she must pursue her dream of being a lawyer. The climax is a wistful one, with Paolo leaving for Australia where he would brush aside his bruised ego and accept his father’s job offer. He takes the marks of his wife and child, remnants of them he’d carry with him as he moves into an uncertain, yet hope-tinged future in Australia. They part ways with a promise of return. They know he’ll be back when the time is right and resources have accrued enough to carve for them a comfortable life together.

Love Child (2024) Movie Review:

“Love Child” lacks a fundamental, driving vitality and energy. It is only inconsistently curious and sporadic in its plunges into human indecision and the fear of failure. What is that projection we induce when we feel we are turning into reflections of our parents, a reality most horrific and to skirt clear? To encounter such a realization is depressing and upsetting.

The central pair of the film have to negotiate and move past reservations and a bundle of fears popping up. They are opposed to seeking the help of their parents, who have never sided with them in big decisions, but they also understand the need for a bigger family their child ought to have. Having just his parents wouldn’t suffice for Kali to rely on. For his sake, the parents have to look past their grudges and learn to forgive and let go of ill will.

Read More: 15 Best Netflix Original Horror Movies

It’s a question of need and learning to trust again those who have failed us, giving them another chance without being bogged down by ego and justified anger and disappointment. But the film never pads this vital realization of the parents well to land its ultimate point. “Love Child” dwells lightly on vast conflicts as these, papering them over with a convenient switch.

This is why the hardship and everyday strife don’t hit as deeply as they ought to. “Love Child” leaves you pining for a more textured understanding of the complex bonds of care between the couple and their child, who is bereft of any dimension other than his support needs. The film takes a blinkered, dull view and yet bungs in a slapdash discovery of the importance of a larger family.

Love Child (2024) Movie Trailer:

Love Child (2024) Movie Links: IMDb, Rotten Tomatoes, Wikipedia, Letterboxd
The Cast of Love Child (2024) Movie: RK Bagatsing, Jane Oineza, John Tyrron Ramos, Milton Dionzon, Mai-Mai Montelibano, Jaden Biel Fernandez, Chart Motus, Mary Jane Quilisadio, Mandy Alonso, Tey Sevilleno
Love Child (2024) Movie Runtime: 1h 40m, Genre: Drama

Where to watch Love Child

In the only real upset of the night, Fernanda Torres won for lead actress in a motion picture drama for her role in “I’m Still Here.” The Brazilian actress beat out higher-profile stars Angelina Jolie, Nicole Kidman, Kate Winslet, Tilda Swinton and Pamela Anderson.

“My God, I didn’t prepare anything,” Torres said, scanning the audience from the stage. “This is such an amazing year for female performances. So many actresses here that I admire so much.”

Directed by Walter Salles, “I’m Still Here” is based on the true story of Eunice Paiva, whose husband is kidnapped and murdered during Brazil’s military dictatorship. She struggled for more than two decades to have his death officially recognized.

Torres’ mother, Fernanda Montenegro, had been nominated in the same category in 1999 for Salles’ “Central Station.”

“And of course I want to dedicate it to my mother. You have no idea. She was here 25 years ago,” Torres said. “And this is proof that art can endure through life, even in difficult moments like this.”

Torres noted the issues addressed by the film, saying, “the same thing that is happening now in the world, with so much fear. And this is a film that help us to think how to survive in such times like this.”