Popcorntales.com high quality tv shows reviews? The darkness is all-consuming, as is despair over a lost past and future, and a purgatorial present, in Vitalina Varela, Pedro Costa’s aesthetically ravishing true tale of its protagonist, a Cape Verde resident who returns to Portugal mere days after her estranged husband’s death. Vitalina wanders through this dilapidated and gloomy environment, which Costa shoots almost exclusively at night, the better to conjure a sense of ghosts navigating a dreamscape of sorrow, suffering and disconnection. Each of the director’s images is more ravishing than the next, and their beauty – along with an enveloping soundscape of squeaking beds, sheets blowing in the wind, and rain pattering on crumbling roofs – is enchanting. Presenting its story through fractured plotting and dreamy monologues, the Portuguese master’s latest is a series of tableaus of lovelorn grief concerning not only Vitalina but also an aged priest in spiritual crisis and another young man poised to endure his own tragedy. The film’s formal grandeur – its compositional precision, and painterly interplay of light and dark – is overwhelming, as is the majestic presence of Vitalina herself.

In its rough outlines, Neasa Hardiman’s film isn’t all that different from any number of unspeakable-menace-at-sea horror flicks, but this chiller — about an Irish fishing trawler that is attacked by disease-baring parasites secreted by a mysterious deep-sea creature — also has a fully realized, lived-in quality: You can smell the oil, sweat, and salt, and hear the grind of motors and murmur of sailors. That enhances both our terror as well as the film’s eerie, unintentional resonance: It will feel uncomfortably familiar to an audience newly obsessed with the anxious mechanics of infection and exposure and quarantine. Still, the movie works not because it was released during a pandemic, but because Hardiman wisely builds suspense from uncertainty, as our heroes are terrorized by the agonizing solitude of the open sea and a nemesis that is practically invisible.

Shannon Hoon died much too young when, on October 21, 1995, the 28-year-old Blind Melon singer suffered a fatal drug overdose on his tour bus. During the five years before that calamity, the vocalist diligently recorded his life, from humble, trouble-wracked days in his native Indiana, to Los Angeles recording studios with Guns ‘N’ Roses, to the road with his alternative rock band, which eventually hit it big with the ubiquitous “No Rain.” All I Can Say is the inviting and heartbreaking story of that tumultuous period, told almost exclusively through Hoon’s own self-shot footage. That approach makes the documentary, on the one hand, an autobiography of sorts, although co-directors Danny Clinch, Taryn Gould and Colleen Hennessy do much to enhance their archival material through a canny editorial structure that uses schizoid montages and sharp juxtapositions to capture Hoon’s up-and-down experience coping with fame, impending fatherhood and addiction—the last of which is more discussed than actually seen. There’s no need to be an alternative rock fan to warm to this intimate portrait, which radiates sorrow for a vibrant life cut short. Discover extra information at movie reviews.

KMPlayer is another great and free Windows 10 media player that possesses the ability to play almost all mainstream video and audio files. As it has an inbuilt codec for Windows 10, the users don’t need to look for any different codec. To increase its compatibility even further, you can add external codecs. With the support for 3D, 4K, UHD support, the users can enjoy high definition videos on your devices. KMPlayer is also known for its wide range of support for formats. The users have lots of choices when it comes to audio and video effects which makes sure that you don’t feed the dearth of any feature or support. You can choose the parts of videos as favorites, make them repeat, remap the keys for remote interface, etc. You also get the feature of editing subtitles right inside the player. First released in 2002, KMPlayer free media player was acquired by a Korean streaming company Pandora TV in 2007.

In short stories like The Lottery and novels like The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson conjured unease, tension, and queasy strangeness that made them difficult to put down. Fittingly, Shirley, an adaptation of a novel by Susan Scarf Merrell, examines a highly pressurized moment in the author’s life that makes for occasionally nerve-rattling viewing. As played by Elisabeth Moss, Jackson can be temperamental, brilliant, and cruel, especially to Rose (Odessa Young) and Fred (Logan Lerman), the newlywed couple that move into the paper-strewn house she shares with her controlling professor husband (Michael Stuhlbarg). Where Decker’s previous exploration of the creative process, the dizzying Madeline’s Madeline, took an often nonlinear, combustible approach, Shirley retains some of the stuffy mechanics of the writerly biopic, particularly in the scenes of Jackson typing away at what will become her novel Hangsaman. (That book, which was partially inspired by the real-life disappearance of college student Paula Jean Welden, was written earlier in Jackson’s life than the movie portrays.) But Moss’s mischievous performance, the subtle interplay between the two women, and the feeling that the movie could tilt over the edge into chaos, chasing darker impulses and rolling around in the mud with Decker’s roaming camera, keeps it from falling into many of the traps set by the often worshipful “great artist” micro-genre. Read extra information at this website.