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Sand City (2025) ‘Karlovy Vary’ Movie Review: Mahde Hasan’s Strange and Beguiling City-Portrait Marks a Visually Arresting Debut

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Sand City (2025) ‘Karlovy Vary’ Movie Review: Mahde Hasan’s Strange and Beguiling City-Portrait Marks a Visually Arresting Debut

In Mahde Hasan’s feature debut, “Sand City,” a tight, clipped psychosis of disaffection rips through its atmosphere. There’s a stifling thrust cities exert as Dhaka does in the film. Where’s the release? Mauled by a city’s pummelling of daily routines, how do you inch towards a smidgen of fresh possibility? A faith in transcendence is snipped by the brutal drudgery synonymous with scratching out a life of dignity. How do you endure with grace when battered by daily banality?

“Sand City” spins around two characters. Emma (Victoria Chakma), a woman from an ethnic minority population, exits her office only to discover slurs scrawled on her bike. It happens on a daily basis. The guard claims he hasn’t a clue who’s behind it. Rather, he redirects insinuations at her, implying: why is it that only she is targeted? She must be doing something that attracts a particular kind of image. At work, Emma is mostly disconnected. She’s seen as an outsider, an anomaly.

The other character is Hasan (Mostafa Monwar), who slaves away at a glass plant with a gradually swelling plot of making his own. He collects several materials, including silica sand, and stores them at home. Emma also hauls off sand for her cat litter. Sand binds the two strangers. She feels edged out in most spaces, receding thereby to her own little corner. There’s no comfort she receives or warmth from kindred others. He’s biding his time, rosy-eyed about the big, brilliant future his project’s success can bring him.

Hasan orchestrates the city-space’s discombobulating effects with precision and austerity. Smoggy landscapes accentuate a deep-set sense of doom and collapse. There’s despair and disillusionment, but it’s purposefully muted. The film drives the kind of morass that seems inescapable, binding on all fronts. Dream as you may; turning the tide is futile, crashing past any mild fluttering of the heart.

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Hasan is terrifically confident in handling silences. Long wordless stretches dominate much of the film, a sandbox for you to decipher and project what characters may be feeling at any given point. There’s a distance, a chasm in place between Hasan and Emma, though a few interstices come up sometimes. But what’s felt more keenly is people being strung apart, socio-economic vectors firmly in place.

It’s a cold hollowness that creeps up on individuals. They have dreams which they pursue tenderly, secretly. Hope is so delicate it might shatter, should they recklessly share, open up their hearts. Giombini’s sharply sculpted framing prises out the city and its deadening blow. It’s a stark, alienating atmosphere we are slowly dipped into. Hasan has no interest in setting up a conventional structure, with easily discernible narrative beats. Instead, he and Giombini imbue “Sand City” with a moodier drift. The blue glowing nights draping over Emma are as striking as evocations of the netherworld in the wasteyards Hasan scavenges through.

Sand City (2025)
A still from “Sand City” (2025)

Characters don’t navigate the city as much as they are stuck within fixed routes. It’s a stasis that chews into the fibre of their lives. They don’t know how to find their footing if they take a plunge. Hasan does fling himself out there more demonstratively. However, their emotional, psychological isolation gnaws like an open wound. Amidst a space crunch, individuals are severed from any form of affectionate intimacy. The daily struggle for sustenance might not be the same for all. Some, like Emma, occupy a more privileged status.

But fulfilment remains elusive. People wander, aching for some anchorage that’s also affirming. Emma is waiting for visa issues to get sorted, so she can fly out of the country. Rarely do we witness the characters sharing a meaningful, grounding bond with others. Both Emma and Hasan are hemmed in. The latter is hopeful about his big project. But the city’s ruthlessness soon rams into him. To leap at salvation of some kind is exposed bleakly, rudely as a sorry quest. The promise of a renewed future stays suspended.

Mahde Hasan bends the film into a visually stunning drama. Most of the undercurrents are riven into Oronnok Prithibi’s sound design, which unleash vividly seething sensations in both crucial moments, like a heightened, shocked discovery, and regular, mundane rhythms. “Sand City” splays grimness into a vacuum that nags both its characters. Each yearns and jostles with the city’s grind. How much will they yield to it? They have to perennially deal with the interplay between resignation and resistance.

The latter is most terrifying, but the final choice, they hope, will make a difference. The director stitches in jolting, disquieting revelations, aided by Prithibi’s piercing, bracing sound design. The clang of construction noise, as the city expands unto itself in all its congestion, works as a constant reminder of the larger scale. A sliver of genuine human connection seems out of reach for both the characters. For Emma, it manifests through an uncanny intrusion. With defiant interruptions and daring ellipsis, Mahde Hasan twists “Sand City” into something evasively peculiar, singular, and unforgettable.

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Sand City premiered at the Karlovy Vary Film Festival 2025.

Sand City (2025) Movie Links: IMDb

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The Housemaid

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The Housemaid

Too good to be true? Yep, that’s just what Millie’s new job as a housemaid is—and everyone in the audience knows it. What they might not expect, though, is the amount of nudity, profanity and blood The Housemaid comes with. And this content can’t be scrubbed away.

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Movie Review – Avatar: Fire and Ash (2025)

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Movie Review – Avatar: Fire and Ash (2025)

Avatar: Fire and Ash, 2025.

Directed by James Cameron.
Starring Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldaña, Sigourney Weaver, Stephen Lang, Oona Chaplin, Kate Winslet, Cliff Curtis, Joel David Moore, CCH Pounder, Edie Falco, Brendan Cowell, Jemaine Clement, Giovanni Ribisi, David Thewlis, Britain Dalton, Jack Champion, Trinity Jo-Li Bliss, Jamie Flatters, Bailey Bass, Filip Geljo, Duane Evans Jr., Matt Gerald, Dileep Rao, Daniel Lough, Kevin Dorman, Keston John, Alicia Vela-Bailey, and Johnny Alexander.

SYNOPSIS:

Jake and Neytiri’s family grapples with grief after Neteyam’s death, encountering a new, aggressive Na’vi tribe, the Ash People, who are led by the fiery Varang, as the conflict on Pandora escalates and a new moral focus emerges.

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At one point during one of the seemingly endless circular encounters in Avatar: Fire and Ash, (especially if director James Cameron sticks to his plans of making five films in this franchise) former soldier turned blue family man (or family Na’vi?) and protector Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) tells his still-in-pursuit-commander-nemesis-transferred-to-a-Na’vi-body Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang) that the world of Pandora runs deeper than he or anyone imagines, and to open his eyes. It’s part of a plot point in which Jake encourages the villainous Quaritch to change his ways.

More fascinatingly, it comes across as a plea of trust from James Cameron (once again writing the screenplay alongside Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver) that there is still much untapped lore and stories to tell in this world. If this repetitive The Way of Water retread is anything to go by, more isn’t justified. Even taken as a spectacle, the unmatched and undeniably stunning visuals (not to mention the most expressive motion capture ever put to screen, movie or video game), that aspect is less impactful, being only two years removed from the last installment rather than a decade, which is not to be confused with less impressive. Fortunately for the film and its gargantuan 3+ hour running time, James Cameron still has enough razzle-dazzle to scoot by here on unparalleled marvel alone, even if the narrative and character expansions are bare-bones.

That’s also what makes it disappointing that this third entry, while introducing a new group dubbed the Ash People led by the strikingly conceptualized Varang (Oona Chaplin) – no one creates scenery-chewing, magnetic, and badass-looking villains quite like James Cameron – and their plight with feeling left behind, rebelling against Pandora religion, Avatar: Fire and Ash is stuck in a cycle of Jake endangering his family (and, by extension, everyone around them) with Quaritch hunting him down for vengeance but this time more fixated on his human son living among them, Spider (Jack Champion) who undergoes a physical transformation that makes him a valuable experiment and, for better or worse, the most important living being in this world. Even the corrupt and greedy marine biologists are back hunting the same godlike sea creatures, leading to what essentially feels like a restaging, if slightly different, riff on the climactic action beat that culminated in last time around.

Worse, whereas The Way of Water had a tighter, more graceful flow from storytelling to spectacle, with sequences extended and drawn out in rapturously entertaining ways, the pacing here is clunkier and frustrating, as every time these characters collide and fight, the story resets and doesn’t necessarily progress. For as much exciting action as there is here, the film also frustratingly starts and stops too much. The last thing I ever expected to type about Avatar: Fire and Ash is that, for all the entrancing technical wizardry on display, fantastical world immersion, and imaginative character designs (complete with occasional macho and corny dialogue that fits, namely since the presentation is in a high frame rate consistently playing like the world’s most expensive gaming cut scene), is often dull.

Yes, everything here, from a special-effects standpoint, is painstakingly crafted, with compelling characters that James Cameron clearly loves (something that shows and allows us to take the story seriously). Staggeringly epic action sequences are worth singling out as in a tier of its own (it’s also a modern movie free from the generally garish and washed-out look of others in this generation), but it’s all in service of a film that is not aware of its strengths, but instead committed to not going anywhere. There are a couple of important details here that one could tell someone before they watch the inevitable Avatar 4, and they will be caught up without needing to watch this. If Avatar: The Way of Water was filler (something I wholeheartedly disagree with), then Avatar: Fire and Ash is nothing. And that’s something that hurts to say.

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Without spoiling too much, the single best scene in the entire film has nothing to do with epic-scale warring, but a smoldering courting from Quaritch for Varang and her army of Ash People to join forces with his group. In a film that’s over three hours, it would also have been welcome to focus more on the Ash People, their past, and their current inner workings alongside their perception of Pandora. It’s not a shock that James Cameron can invest viewers into a villain without doing so, but the alternative of watching Jake grapple with militarizing the Na’vi and insisting everyone learn how to use “sky people” firearms while coming to terms with whether or not he can actually protect his family isn’t as engaging; the latter half comes across as déjà vu.

The presence of Spider amplifies the target on everyone’s backs, with Jake convinced the boy needs to return to his world. His significant other Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña), with rage building inside her stemming from the family losing a child in the climax of the previous film, encourages a more aggressive approach and is ready to kill Spider if him being a part of the family threatens their remaining children (with one of them once again a 14-year-old motion captured by Sigourney Weaver, which is not as effective a voice performance this time as there are scenes of loud agony and pain where she sounds her age). The children also get to continue their plot arcs, with similarly slim narrative progression.

Not without glimpses of movie-magic charm and emotional moments would one dare say James Cameron is losing his touch. However, Avatar: Fire and Ash is all the proof anyone needs to question whether five of these are required, as it’s beginning to look more and more as if the world and characters aren’t as rich as the filmmaker believes they are. It’s another action-packed technical marvel with sincere, endearing characters, but the cycling nature of those elements is starting to wear thin and yield diminishing returns.

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

Robert Kojder

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Movie Review | Sentimental Value

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Movie Review | Sentimental Value

A man and a woman facing each other

Sentimental Value (Photo – Neon)

Full of clear northern light and personal crisis, Sentimental Value felt almost like a throwback film for me. It explores emotions not as an adjunct to the main, action-driven plot but as the very subject of the movie itself.

Sentimental Value
Directed by Joachim Trier – 2025
Reviewed by Garrett Rowlan

The film stars Stellan Skarsgård as Gustav Borg, a 70-year-old director who returns to Oslo to stir up interest in a film he wants to make, while health and financing in an era dominated by bean counters still allow it. He hopes to film at the family house and cast his daughter Nora, a renowned stage actress in her own right, as the lead. However, Nora struggles with intense stage fright and other personal issues. She rejects the role, disdaining the father who abandoned the family when he left her and her sister Agnes as children. In response, Gustav lures a “name” American actress, Rachel Keys (Elle Fanning), to play the part.

Sentimental Value, written by director Joachim Trier and Eskil Vogt, delves into sibling dynamics, the healing power of art, and how family trauma can be passed down through generations. Yet the film also has moments of sly humor, such as when the often oblivious Gustav gives his nine-year-old grandson a birthday DVD copy of Gaspar Noé’s dreaded Irreversible, something intense and highly inappropriate.

For me, the film harkens back to the works of Ingmar Bergman. The three sisters (with Elle Fanning playing a kind of surrogate sister) reminded me of the three siblings in Bergman’s 1972 Cries and Whispers. In another sequence, the shot composition of Gustav and his two daughters, their faces blending, recalls the iconic fusion of Liv Ullmann and Bibi Andersson’s faces in Persona.

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It’s the acting that truly carries the film. Special mention goes to Renate Reinsve, who portrays the troubled yet talented Nora, and Stellan Skarsgård as Gustav, an actor unafraid to take on unlikable characters (I still remember him shooting a dog in the original Insomnia). In both cases, the subtle play of emotions—especially when those emotions are constrained—across the actors’ faces is a joy to watch. Elle Fanning and Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas (who plays Agnes, the other sister with her own set of issues) are both excellent.

It’s hardly a Christmas movie, but more deeply, it’s a winter film, full of emotions set in a cold climate.

> Playing at Landmark Pasadena Playhouse, Laemmle Glendale, and AMC The Americana at Brand 18.

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