The visuals are beautiful, yes; the sweeping shots of the Chinese countryside and lavishly decorated Imperial City are appropriately grandiose for a film with access to Disney’s pocketbooks — but all the production value in the world can’t save a movie without a soul.
“Folklore” feels like an admission about the limitations of providing one experience alone.
Do we have to force kids to relive their trauma, to prove their gymnastic potential and youthful naiveté over and over again in order to convince audiences to take sexual abuse seriously?
Many of the stories end with no satisfying resolution. This ambiguity can be frustrating or soothing.
The text’s novelty cannot overcome the fact that it will be too much baseball for some, too much technology for others, and only just right for the very few.
Don’t ask me what I’m even doing here, she says. My life is a series of real-life Wikipedia spirals. Just keep looking up related readings.
Too many roads lead to Disney, and not all of them seem paved with gold.
What concessions have to be made to bestow the title of “feminist” upon his films or, alternatively, to take it away?
