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‘Bottle Radha’ movie review: Guru Somasundaram powers a scathing drama that goes for heart over intellect

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‘Bottle Radha’ movie review: Guru Somasundaram powers a scathing drama that goes for heart over intellect

The opening of Bottle Radha is an overhead shot of Chennai, with a speaker somewhere playing ‘Thanni Thotti’ from Sindhu Bhairavi (it’s a staple booze anthem in Tamil). There are over a dozen shots of alcohol being poured into glasses in this film, and of men downing bottle after bottle to the point you wonder how they are even alive. Towards the end, there is a bar song with men dancing ecstatically. But before you jump to conclusions, this isn’t the film that celebrates alcoholism.

Debutant director Dhinakaran Sivalingam’s film is a two-hour drama that persistently focuses on the prevalent issue of alcohol addiction. That bar song I mentioned? It’s an intriguing tactic to send a dark message, in a medium that has often used such songs to celebrate boozing.

Radhamani a.k.a Sorakkapalyam Radha (Guru Somasundaram) is a middle-aged man who spends much of his time and money in the liquor shop, chugging bottles and engaging in petty quarrels. He is a deadbeat with no redeeming qualities, and Sivalingam holds no bars in depicting the flaws of his protagonist. Radha appears drunk even at his work site, and his job as a construction worker is an irony by itself. He knows nothing about building a home — the one you build with affection, responsibility, a longing for peace and comfort, and a million other little things — but claims to be an expert in building houses — empty structures made with bricks, cement and sand that are brought to life by families. That he builds houses for other families while squandering the future of his wife Anjalam (a fantastic Sanchana Natarajan) and their two kids says a subtle something about who alcoholism more often ends up affecting, and the whys and hows of its prevalence among the working-class (in umpteen instances, the film humorously points out how many addicts refuse to take responsibility because “it’s the government that has a liquor shop every corner,” but it also shows what easy accessibility can do to addicts in recovery).

In an unexpected turn for Radha, his wife, tired of making this ill-behaved man see some sense, forcibly enrols him in a one-of-a-kind de-addiction centre. In a dilapidated room are lodged dozens of addiction patients. Much of these initial portions are treated with humour, and many scenes featuring Lollu Sabha Maaran leave you in splits. However, this de-addiction centre is where issues with Bottle Radha also begin. Firstly, many of the characters we see in this de-addiction centre add nothing to our understanding of how these places function, or what goes in the mind of an addict.

Bottle Radha (Tamil)

Director: Dhinakaran Sivalingam

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Cast: Guru Somasundaram, Sanchana Natarajan, John Vijay, Lollu Sabha Maaran

Runtime: 146 minutes

Storyline: An alcoholic gets stuck in a vortex that sucks all happiness from his life, and ends up seeking help at a de-addiction centre

Ashokan (John Vijay) runs the place with a firm, fair hand — he minces no words when the patients justify their acts and reprimands his subordinate Elango, a strange man with a compulsion for cruelty. But except for a patient’s passing remark on the centre’s budget, we are never told what Ashokan feels about the concerning state of this strange place. As much as they help the film’s humour, the patients add little value to Radha’s story. Also, what was the point of that romance between two mentors that goes nowhere? Sure, Elango’s case, and the sorry state of his victims, paint a stark picture of how these centres function, but what good does it do when we don’t understand what goes behind Elango’s hunger for power? You also wonder if Elango’s violence towards a patient had to be so excessive. Similar is the case with a scene in which The Shawshank Redemption is played at the centre; though you are impressed by this fresh take on a timeless classic, you are left with a sense of unease in how the sequence ends.

Bottle Radha chooses heart over intellect, relying solely on drama to do all the heavy lifting, and ends up offering scattered returns. In one of the hard-hitting stretches, Radha is consumed by darkness, anything resembling light devoured by his almost life-threatening addiction. His bloodshot eyes mince all that self-loathing into a contempt for the world, and you almost forget that this is an enactment. No slight emotions escape Guru Somasundaram’s face, and many scenes feature the performer pouring his heart out. Yet, in another scene, when he listens to a man open up on how alcoholism destroyed his family, Somasundaran appears….only as Somasundaram. Make no mistake, the issue isn’t with the actor; in fact, it is he who powers the film to become something more than what it settles to be.

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The performance appears as such because the story’s didactic pursuit leads to many contrived situations and scenes. The film is so focused on taking us through the highs and lows of Radha’s alcoholism that it forgets to make him whole. This is disappointing because in a scene he tells Anjalam about how despite starting his days with a lot of resoluteness to not drink, ‘something’ pulls him back to the bottle. This something sometimes is external — like his friend Shake (Pari Elavazhagan) whose idea of a grand death is to die drinking — but except for a detail about his childhood, we don’t get much to understand the internal struggle of Radha. The film repeatedly tells us that every time he feels low, he goes on a bender and that he hasn’t seen all that lies beyond the bottle. But why does he chase the high of alcohol in the first place? Is it after a sense of security? Or, does it come from having grown up without a proper support system? Or maybe a disease is a disease and it can never be understood; maybe it’s a vortex to oblivion, but if that’s the case, why can’t we see, say, Ashokan speak about all that?

A still from ‘Bottle Radha’

A still from ‘Bottle Radha’
| Photo Credit:
Think Music India/YouTube

ALSO READ:‘Kudumbasthan’ movie review: Manikandan maintains his winning streak with this entertaining comedy caper

Instead, all we get are repetitions of Radha’s drinking, relapses and otherwise, and after a point, you hardly care about what lies ahead of him. Fascinatingly, you are more drawn towards the story of Anjalam and how she deals with this precarious marriage. Her arc wonderfully underlines how alcoholism, like most other social crises, affects women from poorer sections of society. In one of the initial scenes, a police officer warns Anjalam of punishment, pinning responsibility on her for how her husband behaves; in another heartbreaking scene with splendid performances, she heartbrokenly confesses all that she endured in the absence of her deadbeat husband. How her arc shapes up might be a tad too predictable, but what she stands for compels you to look beyond the flaws in the film.

The flaws, however, don’t diminish the importance of a film like Bottle Radha. And for a feature debutant, this is a commendable start by Sivalingam. As in a beautiful scene between Anjalam and Radha in the rain, many moments hint at a filmmaker with a lot of heart and ambition.

Bottle Radha is currently running in theatres

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Movie Reviews

Film Review: Project Hail Mary – SLUG Magazine

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Film Review: Project Hail Mary – SLUG Magazine

Film

Project Hail Mary
Director: Phil Lord, Christopher Miller
Pascal Pictures, General Admission, Lord Miller Productions
In Theaters 03.20.2026

The Oscars for the films of 2025 are this Sunday, and many of the races are tight. If I’m being honest, I’m struggling to care, in part because awards are a poor way to measure art. But mostly because Project Hail Mary is the first major studio release that’s a solid contender for Best Picture of 2026, and I’m far more stoked to see it again than I am to watch a three-hour ceremony.

Science teacher Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling, Drive, Barbie) awakens alone aboard a spacecraft light-years from Earth with no memory of who he is or how he got there. As fragments of his past slowly return, he realizes he’s the sole survivor of a desperate mission to the Tau Ceti system, sent to find a way to stop a mysterious organism draining energy from the sun and threatening to wipe out life on Earth. Armed only with his scientific know-how, stubborn ingenuity and a growing understanding of the stakes, Grace races to solve an interstellar puzzle that could save humanity. Along the way, he discovers he isn’t quite as alone as he thought — forming an unlikely partnership with an alien visitor he nicknames Rocky (voiced and puppeteered by James Ortiz), whose own world is facing the same cosmic catastrophe. Together, the two forge an extraordinary friendship while tackling a problem that neither species could solve alone. 

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Project Hail Mary is an adaptation of the bestselling novel by Andy Weir, the author of The Martian, and it’s adapted by the same screenwriter for that film, Drew Goddard. As with The Martian, the script here stays remarkably faithful to the beloved source material, bringing a perfect mix of science, humor and heart. The shadow-drained cinematography by Greig Fraser (Dune, The Batman) is luminous and atmospheric. The Lego Movie directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, who were fired from their gig piloting Solo: A Star Wars Story, finally get the chance to prove that not only can they do live action just as well as animation, they belong among the stars. For a story that is so dependent on making hard science accessible and is predicated on the imminent destruction of the planet and the human race, Project Hail Mary manages to be a joyous crowd-pleaser that should find itself scoring with all audiences. It’s as if the cerebral majesty of 2001: A Space Odyssey were mixed with the warmth of a road trip buddy movie, and they sync together perfectly. Daniel Pemberton’s ethereal musical score is filled with such majesty that it would be worth the price of an IMAX ticket just to hear it on a great sound system, and even at 156 minutes, the pacing never lags.

Gosling is becoming one of Hollywood’s most consistently great actors, and he balances the comic and dramatic elements with equal aplomb. The presence of a practical effect for Rocky gives Gosling a stellar performer to play off of, and I’ll be very surprised if we see a more engaging character relationship all year. Sandra Hüller (Anatomy of a Fall, The Zone of Interest) brings both an icy aloofness and piercing sense of humanity to the role of Eva Stratt, a Dutch scientist who is in charge of the project, and she continues to blow me away with the depth that she brings to each performance. 

Project Hail Mary isn’t just a great movie; it’s a cosmic journey of epic proportions, and it’s nothing short of a cinematic masterpiece. These may be lofty words, and I know that I run the risk of being told “you built it up too high for me,” but when a movie comes along that causes me to lose myself in an all encompassing experience – and I look at the silver through the eyes of a kid who is filled with wonder and has traveled to edges of existence and back again – I’m willing to take that risk. —Patrick Gibbs

Read more film reviews:
Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die is a Timely Warning
Film Review: How to Make a Killing

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Movie Review – Reminders of Him (2026)

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Movie Review – Reminders of Him (2026)

Reminders of Him, 2026.

Directed by Vanessa Caswill.
Starring Maika Monroe, Tyriq Withers, Rudy Pankow, Lainey Wilson, Lauren Graham, Jennifer Robertson, Zoe Kosovic, Monika Myers, Sindhyar Baloch, Bradley Whitford, Nicholas Duvernay, Jillian Walchuck, Hilary Jardine, Skye MacDonald, Rick Koy, Susan Serrao, Anne Hawthorne, Laird Reghenas, and Kevin Corey.

SYNOPSIS:

After prison, a woman attempts to reconnect with her young daughter but faces resistance from everyone except a bar owner with ties to her child. As they grow closer, she must confront her past mistakes to build a hopeful future.

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Given that Maika Monroe’s just-released-from-incarceration Kenna immediately desecrates the gravesite of her love Scotty (which is unintentionally hilariously on the side of the road where a tragic car accident took his life) by stealing the wooden cross (with an inner voice muttering that he hated memorials anyway), tells another character she doesn’t like cats, and complains to someone else that all music is sad and that she doesn’t like it, it’s reasonable to get the impression that the latest adaptation from Colleen Hoover, Reminders of Him, is intentionally aiming for an unlikable lead. Nothing says “get the audience on the side of our protagonist” like all of the above.

The reality is that Maika Monroe is capable enough to inject a modicum of emotion and grounded sincerity even into a Colleen Hoover character, but that, directed by Vanessa Caswill (with Lauren Levine writing the screenplay alongside the author), these are all characters stuck reaching for depth far out of grasp in a hollow romance that is less about someone with a criminal record ingratiating themselves back into society after a seven-year vehicular manslaughter sentence and earning the trust of her dead boyfriend’s parents (Bradley Whitford and Lauren Graham), now the legal guardians of her five-year-old daughter, for visitation rights or anything that would force the novelist (this is her third book translated to screen in as many years) to write an actual character, and more a dull push-pull possible relationship with the former NFL star best friend picking up the pieces, living next door to those grandparents, and assisting taking care of the young girl.

Asking the question “what would it be like to fuck your dead boyfriend’s best friend” should be a hell of a lot more morally thorny and emotionally charged than this. Rather than engage with that, the filmmakers need to dedicate 70 minutes to an outrageously contrived setup in which Kenna and that best friend, Ledger (Tyriq Withers, also visibly trying to express some personality and humanity, but is left hanging by the script), have never met before. Yes, you read that right (and yes, those are the real ridiculous names of these characters, although the latter is presumably intended to honor the late great Heath Ledger, who once starred in romantic dramas and made them a hell of a lot more watchable).

Despite being best friends, Ledger not only never met his best friend’s girlfriend, but he apparently had never even seen a picture of her until her mugshot (which he conveniently forgets, never mind that Maika Monroe looks mostly the same seven years removed) following the car accident on Scotty’s (Rudy Pankow) birthday, which he bailed on for fitness exams in preparation for the NFL draft. In the present, he no longer plays, having “blown out a shoulder”, yet appears physically fine and in no pain during the numerous shirtless scenes and a couple of sexual ones. Before the film gets there, he is skeptical of going anywhere near Kenna once he discovers her identity. Of course, that doesn’t last long because these two hot leads are gravitating toward spending time together.

Much of this is, to put it bluntly, airless and lifeless despite an ensemble trying their best to elevate the proceedings, with what feels like significant chunks of the novel cut out; there is a single flashback to Kenna’s time in prison – being taken under the wing of a mentor of sorts on how to survive – and Scotty is allocated such a minimal screen time that he hardly feels like a character and is never allowed to feel like a presence looming over the story and the choices these characters make. For some reason, there is also a friend Kenna makes here with Down syndrome (Monika Myers) who seems to exist as a vessel for comedic relief, which might have sat better if, once again, there were actually a damn character behind that.

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One waits and waits for the inevitable moment where, after snowcone dates and playful arguments about music, there is a release of sexual tension. However, the drama resulting from this is childish, dumb, and resolved about three scenes later. You won’t need a reminder that Reminders of Him, like all Colleen Hoover adaptations thus far, is bad, once again searching for a romantic pulse and eroticism at the expense of characters who feel like actual people or anything that gives weight to the attempts at thorniness.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★

Robert Kojder

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist

 

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“Resurrection” Movie Review: To Burn, Anyway

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“Resurrection” Movie Review: To Burn, Anyway

“What can one person do but two people can’t?”

“Dream.”

I knew the 2025 film “Resurrection” (狂野时代) would be elusive the second I walked out of Amherst Cinema and into the cold air, boots gliding over tanghulu-textured ice. The snow had stopped falling, but I wished it hadn’t so that I could bury myself in my thoughts a little longer. But the wind hit my uncovered face, the oxygen slipped from my lungs, and I realized that I had stopped dreaming.

“Resurrection” is a love letter to the evolution of cinematography, the ephemerality of storytelling, and the raw incoherence of life. Structured like an anthology film and set in a futuristic dreamscape, humanity achieves immortality on one condition: They can’t dream. We follow the last moments before the death of one rebel dreamer, called the “Deliriant” or “迷魂者,” as he travels through four different dream worlds, spanning a century in his mind.

Jackson Yee, who plays the main protagonist of the movie. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Being Bi Gan’s third film after the 2015 “Kaili Blues” (路边野餐) and the 2018 “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” (地球最后的夜晚), “Resurrection” follows Gan’s directorial style of creating fantastical, atmospheric worlds. Jackson Yee, known for being a member of the boy group TFBoys, stars as the Deliriant and takes on a different identity in each dream, ranging from a conflicted father-figure conman to an untethered young man looking for love to a hunted vessel with a beautiful voice. His acting morphs unhesitatingly into each role, tailored to the genre of each dream. Of which, “Resurrection” leans into, with practice and precision.

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Opening with a silent film that mimics those of German expressionist cinema, “Resurrection” takes the opportunity to explore the genres of film noir, Buddhist fable, neorealism, and underworld romance. The Deliriant’s dreams are situated in the years 1900 to 2000, as we follow the evolution of a century of competing cinematic visions. The characters don’t utter a single word of dialogue in the first twenty minutes, as all exposition occurs through paper-like text cards that yellow at the edges. I was worried it would be like this for the whole film, but I stayed in the theater that Tuesday night, the week before midterms, waiting for the first line of spoken dialogue to hit like the first sip of water after a day of fasting.

Supporting female actress Shu Qi. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Through a massive runtime that spans two hours and 39 minutes, this movie makes you earn everything you get. Gan trains the audience’s patience with a firm hold on precision over the dials of the five senses and the mind.

The dreams may move forward in time through the cultures of the twentieth century, but on a smaller temporal scale, the main setting of each dream functions to tell the story of a day in reverse. The first dream, being a film noir, is told on a rainy night. Without giving any more spoilers, the three subsequent dreams take place at twilight, during multiple sunny afternoons, and then at sunrise. “Resurrection” does not grant sunlight so easily; we are given momentary solace after being deprived of direct sunlight for a solid 70 minutes, until it is stripped from us again and we are dropped into the darkness of pre-dawn – not that I am complaining. I love a movie that knows what it wants the audience to feel. I felt a deep-seated ache as I watched the film, scooting closer to the edge of my seat.

“Resurrection” is a movie that is best watched in theaters, but a home speaker system or padded headphones in a dark room can also suffice. Some of its most gripping moments are controlled by sound. Loud, cluttered echoes of the world, whether from people chatting in a parlor or anxiety in a character’s head, are abruptly cut off with ringing silence and a suspended close-up shot. We are forced to reckon with what the character has just done. I knew I was a world away, but I was convinced and terrified at my own culpability and agency. If I were him, would I have done the same? I could only hear my thoughts fade away as we moved onto the next dream.

Beyond sight and sound, the plot also deals intimately with the senses of taste, smell, and touch, but you will have to watch the movie yourself to find that out.

My high school acting teacher once told us that whenever a character tells a story in a play, they are actually referencing the play’s overall narrative. This exact technique of using framed narratives as vessels of information foreshadowing drives coherence in a seemingly ambiguous, metaphorical anthology film. Instead of easy-to-follow tales that mimic the hero’s journey, we are taken through unadulterated, expansive explorations of characters and their aspirations. We never find out all the details of what or why something happens, as the Deliriant moves quickly through ephemeral lifetimes in each dream, literally dying to move onto the next, but we find closure nonetheless through the parallels between elements and the poetry of it all.

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That is why I like to think of “Resurrection” as pure art. It is not bound by structure; it osmoses beyond borders. It is creation in the highest form; it is a movie that I will never be able to watch again.

Perhaps because the dream worlds are so intimate and gorgeous, the exposition for the actual futuristic society feels weak in comparison. We learn that there is a woman whose job is to hunt down Deliriants, but we don’t see the rest of the dystopian infrastructure that runs this system. However, I can understand this as a thematic choice to prioritize dreams over reality. Form follows function, and these omissions of detail compel us to forget the outside world.

What it means to “dream” is up for interpretation, and we never learn the specifics of why or how immortality is achieved. Instead, “Resurrection” compares dreaming to fire. We humans are like candles, the movie claims, with wax that could stand forever if never used. But what is the point in being candles if we are never lit?

The greatest reminder of “Resurrection” is our own mortality. Whether we run from the snow-dipped mountaintops to the back alleyways of rain-streaked Chongqing, we can never escape our own consequences. “Resurrection” gives me a great fear of death, but so does it reignite my conviction to live a life of mistakes and keep dreaming anyway.

Dreaming is nothing without death. Immortality is nothing without love. So, I stumbled back to my dorm that Tuesday night, the week before midterms, thinking about what I loved and feared losing. So few films can channel life and let it go with a gentle hand. I only watch movies to fall in love. I am in love, I am in love. I am so afraid. 

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