Studio Persona, a space for art expression and play, teams up with Edible play, a food-focused experiential-learning kids program, to host a workshop for your little ones (5 - 11 years old). From 9 am to 3 pm, young minds will be able to express themselves creatively through several fun activities such as creating a dish based on the colors or animals that represent them.
Roku Gin, Haku Vodka, and Fentimans, in partnership with The House on Sathorn, invite you to an exclusive booze-filled night. Guest mixologist, Francesco Moretti, will present you his exceptional cocktail creations along with a live jazz music performance from Lookkaew and the band.
Witness notable Norwegian DJ and producer Bård Aasen Lødemel aka Skatebård deliver from techno to his unique reinterpretation of Detroit house music at Safe Room. The deck will be accompanied by Boogie G (Nite Ride / Music Makes Me High) and Tristan Kino (Short Black Records, Final Frontier).
Bangkok-based screen-print studio The Archivist joins hand with Berlin-based studio Le Raclet to host the 2nd run of The Printers’ Prints, showcasing 30 new hand-pulled screen prints designed by several international artists such as Andreas Samuelsson, Daan Botlek, and Fuzzgun.
Join the fun-loving crowd on Friday night at Blue Parrot. Enjoy 15% off of Rose Wine, free tapas, and groove to house beats delivered by Ed Stephenson. The entry is free.
Chin’s Gallery invites art fanatics to witness world-renowned Japanese graffiti artist Snipe1’s first-ever solo exhibition outside Japan titled “METABUGS” —Rules are made to be broken. Under this concept, Snipe1 dares the customary art world by expressing graffiti onto the canvas as it is. In recent years, the artist has also collaborated with several critically acclaimed artists like TAKASHI MURAKAMI and MADSAKI.
The history of Persian Carpet is a culmination of artistic magnificence dating back to 2,500 years ago. Its aesthetical exquisiteness has been long recognized among lifestyle connoisseurs until the present time. River City Bangkok is proud to present Bangkok Persian Carpet Exhibition 2019. This is a splendid showcase featured in 6 different concepts inside the well-decorated rooms. Visitors can exclusively discover a highlight piece of carpet at more than 10 million baht. Some of the collectible pieces are brought to present with a beautiful antique piano, home furnishing, high-end audio, and classic cars. Discover from Oct 17 until Nov 24 on the 3rd floor. Content provided by Time Out partner
The rare chance to watch award-winning Taiwanese documentaries is here. There are nine movies and three short documentaries featured in the event, including Blood Amber + Quan Ma He, Light + Your Face, Swimming on the Highway + Goodnight & Goodbye, The Shapherds + Where We Belong, The End of the Track, Our Youth in Taiwan, Turning 18, Opening Closing Forgetting, and 14 Apples. In addition to the screenings, there will be a Q&A session with three Taiwanese documentary filmmakers including Lee Yong-chao (Blood Amber), Elvis Lu (The Shepherds) and Wu Yao-tung (Swimming on the Highway, Goodnight & Goodbye) at SF World Cinema CentralWorld, a panel discussion on topic “How government and institutions can support the film industry in Taiwan” and a workshop hosted by the directors at Doc Club Theater (Warehouse30).
The third edition of SEAFIC Open House public event that features free screenings, panels, talks, meet and greets, and live pitching to develop filmmakers from the whole region and beyond. This time, the event shall take place at Alliance Française Bangkok from 26-28 October. Highlights include Panel Discussion with experts from each of the major movie organizations around the world including Cinefondation (France), Locarno Open Door (Switzerland), HAF (Hong Kong - Asia Film Financing Forum) to talk about movies from Southeast Asia and the situation of film festivals around the world. Also, an open fair that registered filmmakers can meet with the world’s top international organizations such as Produire au Sud, Locarno Open Doors, Purin Pictures, Busan Asian Film School, Busan International Film Festival, White Light Post and more on the same day. While a free screening of the Thai premiere of Women Of The Weeping River (2016), which won Best Picture at QCinema International Film Festival 2016, will hold on October 27 plus a group talk with director Sheron Dayoc about script development and fundraising of the film. For more information please visit their website.
SIWILAI CITY CLUB introduces their latest music-focused project 'SIWILAI Invites' this Oct 25 by inviting Alex Barck, one of the members of an esteemed music Collective from Berlin, Jazzanova, to takeover the deck.
Movies now showing
An overstuffed follow-up to 2014’s Maleficent (a skillful Sleeping Beauty spin-off), Joachim Rønning’s sequel finds one worthy reason to exist in Michelle Pfeiffer’s wicked Queen Ingrith. As the nemesis to Angelina Jolie’s red-lipped siren, Pfeiffer gives us exactly what we want—the same hissing Catwoman attitude she heated up for Mother! Intimidating in Ellen Mirojnick’s pearl-encrusted costumes, Pfeiffer strides into character: Her Ingrith plots to overtake the realm, poisoning the familial bond between its young queen, Aurora (a graceful Elle Fanning), and her misunderstood godmother, Maleficent (Jolie, glamorous and imposing). Will Ingrith’s villainy destroy the duo’s love, which the first film so thoughtfully built? Even if you have an idea how that question gets answered, Pfeiffer’s deceitful empress (with flower allergies) keeps things entertaining. The rest of the package isn’t as inspired, despite Patrick Tatopoulos’s fanciful production design, which recalls a lesser Avatar, and all the cute, flickering things hovering around. A smitten Prince Phillip (Harris Dickinson), engaged to Aurora, sometimes downgrades the otherwise central Maleficent from feared potentate to anxious empty-nester. There’s also an underground clan of creatures that includes Chiwetel Ejiofor’s horned Conall, living in hiding from human threat. It all leads to a noisy finale that wears out its welcome. (You’ll crave for more of the quieter battle from an earlier dinner scene, when Pfeiffer an
It's the laugh that gets you: Joaquin Phoenix’s half cackle, half rasp has all the soothing music of a vulture in a blender. It’ll be ratting around in your head long after the old-school “The End” card flashes up on this unrelenting, grimly funny and brilliantly visceral reinvention of the DC supervillain. Joker is a truly nightmarish vision of late-era capitalism—arguably the best “social horror” film since Get Out—and Phoenix is magnetic in it. He runs Heath Ledger cigarette paper-close as the finest screen Joker. Like everything in this drum-tight movie, the title’s lack of a definite article is no accident: It’s not the fully formed Joker being introduced here, but Arthur Fleck, a man whose ambition to tell jokes professionally is at odds with the living he scraps as a clown for hire on Gotham’s grimy streets. Judging by posters of the movies playing—Excalibur and Blow Out—it’s 1981, but it feels more like the ’70s of Death Wish. He lives with his frail mom (Frances Conroy) in a broken-down tenement, eking out a little joy watching a TV chat show hosted with oily relish by Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro). Arthur’s on seven types of medication and has a neurological condition that causes him to laugh—okay, cackle—uncontrollably. In these domestic early scenes, Phoenix establishes Arthur as a man who sees himself less as an underdog than a mutt waiting to be put down. “I just don’t want to feel so bad anymore,” he says. And no wonder: It’s a seriously bleak world he inh
This Jessie Pinkman-centric spin-off is a fun if inert slice of fan service.
A languid, undercooked affair, writer-director Jim Jarmusch’s playful stab at the zombie movie returns the genre to the backwoods America of George Romero’s seminal Night of the Living Dead and gives it a half-meta reworking. It sprinkles in an ensemble cast to die for, bursts of OTT flesh-chomping gore, nods to zombie classics (look out for Living Dead’s 1967 Pontiac LeMans) and a few big laughs, but its zeitgeist-y concerns and self-conscious final-act twists don’t quite land. It’s a love letter to zombie movies typed in Comic Sans, and it reminds you that Jarmusch’s best work has an invisible rigor, even at its loosest. Sadly, that’s missing here. In the spirit of Romero, the undead apocalypse arrives in the Midwestern town of Centerville via interrupted radio signals, daylight that lasts too long and, most alarmingly for this rural spot, a missing chicken. Is the cranky hermit outside of town to blame? (He’s played by Jarmusch lucky charm Tom Waits, 50 percent gravel-voiced omniscience, 50 percent beard.) Disturbing news bulletins about fracking knocking the Earth off its axis point to a bigger story. But at the urging of an obnoxious MAGA type (Steve Buscemi), cops Cliff Robertson (Bill Murray) and Ronnie Peterson (Adam Driver) investigate, with the latter oddly certain that it all points to an invasion of the undead. Sure enough, said invasion arrives, presaged by a zombie Iggy Pop and a particularly chewy scene at the town’s diner. The shuf
She risked everything to stop an unjust war. Her government called her a traitor. Based on world-shaking true events, Official Secrets tells the gripping story of Katharine Gun (Keira Knightley), a British intelligence specialist whose job involves routine handling of classified information. One day in 2003, in the lead up to the Iraq War, Gun receives a memo from the NSA with a shocking directive: the United States is enlisting Britain's help in collecting compromising information on United Nations Security Council members in order to blackmail them into voting in favor of an invasion of Iraq. Unable to stand by and watch the world be rushed into an illegal war, Gun makes the gut-wrenching decision to defy her government and leak the memo to the press. So begins an explosive chain of events that will ignite an international firestorm, expose a vast political conspiracy, and put Gun and her family directly in harm's way.
If you like your space odysseys brimming with formula-filled blackboards and quantum mechanics, consider this a trigger warning: Ad Astra is not that kind of sci-fi. Unlike 2001: A Space Odyssey or Interstellar, two obvious points of parallel, there’s no Arthur C Clarke or Kip Thorne behind the scenes to bring Nobel-worthy science to the fiction. This is a movie where a man travels to Neptune, a distance of 2.7 billion miles, without aging a day—a reach even when that man is Brad Pitt. It features killer baboons in zero gravity. At one point, Pitt jacks a spaceship—while it’s taking off. On paper, at least, it’s just Moonraker with a PhD. Leave any disbelief at the door, though, and you’ll be rewarded with an often gorgeous, soulful sci-fi that’s charged with emotion and bursting with spectacle. It has meaningful things to say about letting go, dads and their sons, and the challenges of reconciling with the past. Sure, it’s set in “the near future” and mostly against the endless solitude of space – captured by Interstellar cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema with lunar greys and Martian ochres – and it boasts possibly cinema’s first moon-buggy chase (as awesome as it sounds), but director James Grey and his co-writer Ethan Gross never lose sight of its intimate heart. They’re aided in that by a terrific, nuanced performance from Pitt. For the most part, Ad Astra wears its near-future-ness with a light touch. Exactly what’s happening on Earth is kept deliberately murky, beyond
Think Ocean’s Eleven with strippers and you’ve got the premise of Lorene Scafaria’s surprising, gripping Hustlers. Constance Wu stars as Dorothy, a.k.a. Destiny, the new girl at a hot Manhattan gentlemen’s club. The wildly successful Ramona (Jennifer Lopez) takes Dorothy under her wing and shows her how to get ahead in exotic dancing. But after the 2008 financial crash, the pair and their friends resort to criminal means to keep the cash coming in. This is a deeply feminist film, one where men are given less screen time than the cameoing Cardi B and Lizzo. These women are objectified by the world, though rarely by Scafaria’s camera. They use that fact to scam money and take revenge on Wall Streeters. Scafaria treats the women as flawed, fractious characters and folk heroes, not sex dolls. She packs in some visual flourishes too, like a shaky-cam shot of one of the crew’s walk of shame to her daughter’s school. It’s a reminder that there’s more at stake for these women than the ability to buy designer clothes. If Wu is compelling as Destiny, Lopez is magnetic as her savvy mentor. It’s her most authoritative role since Out of Sight. The plot, in contrast to the stars, sags in the middle and there are a few more celebratory hang-out scenes than we need, but the gang is so charismatic, it’s no great chore to spend extra time with them. Some people would pay thousands for just a few minutes.
Himalayan yetis have, for a while now, come around the bend from fierce and mysterious to soft and cuddly, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that Abominable plays like the intensely sweet, kid-safe movie it is. After a discordant, John Carpenter–esque POV intro shot that brings us vividly into the plight of a creature escaping a high-tech lab, this otherwise toothless animated feature eases into a predictable groove (one that Chinese co-producer Pearl Studio no doubt insisted on). It’s basically E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial beat for beat, with scrappy Chinese tomboy Yi (voiced by Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Chloe Bennet) as the fatherless loner who makes a secret new friend, and steamed pork buns subbing in for Reese’s Pieces. She and her soon-to-be besties must transport the monster, nicknamed Everest, back to his distant homeland, all while evading paramilitary types and some evil scientists (including a purring Sarah Paulson). There’s comfort to be had in executing on such a durable formula, and—life lessons accompanied by Coldplay’s treacly “Fix You” aside—Abominable usually resembles the swift adventure it wants to be. Occasionally the animation transcends the typical: You can see every pillowy hair on Everest’s wide belly (all the better for Totoro–like naps). Sometimes the movie bursts into psychedelic passages, like when the yeti is revealed to have nature-altering powers, transforming fields of flowers into crashing waves. Particularly young viewers will be delighted by the
Review by Joshua Rothkopf Sometime while watching Rambo: Last Blood—maybe it’s when our hero uses his bare hands to tear the still-beating heart out of a Mexican rapist’s chest—you’ll think that it didn’t have to end this way. Sylvester Stallone’s John Rambo, first an unappreciated Vietnam vet, then a one-man army, always fought on his own terms. Even when he rolled with the “gallant people of Afghanistan” (as 1988’s Rambo III was dedicated), he was never anyone’s mouthpiece. Now, Stallone might as well be wearing a MAGA cap. The new film’s script, partly credited to its star, is a breathtakingly racist compendium of Trumpian talking points: Rambo, these days a humble Arizona rancher with an extensive weapon collection, does battle with an invading horde of drug dealers who make the thugs from Sicario look like a mild nuisance. Oh, right—they’re also sex slavers, responsible for abducting Rambo’s college-bound niece, Gabrielle (Yvette Monreal), hooking her on smack and pimping her out. Just when the movie’s symbology couldn’t get more obvious, the camera lingers on that border wall: a porous defense, all the better for Rambo to lure his enemies onto his home turf for a Doors-scored climax of ridiculously over-the-top gore. Is there any satisfaction to seeing the icon back in action? Director Adrian Grunberg (Get the Gringo) stages the violence clumsily, often botching the kill moments with frenetic cutaways. None of the care that Stallone imparted to his recent Rocky reboo
Quentin Tarantino’s buzzy alt-history of late-’60s Hollywood puts truth in a bong and smokes it
Even in our Stranger Things–dominated popscape, no one was expecting 2017’s It—a second attempt at a ponderous 30-year-old novel—to become such a huge phenomenon. A monster hit? Sure. No one likes a clown, evil or otherwise. But the highest-grossing horror movie of all time? To understand that outcome, one would have to consult the dark forces trapped in Stephen King’s typewriter. Finally, though, the hype is justified: It: Chapter Two improves on its predecessor in nearly every way. King’s book was bifurcated into halves, one hefty chunk going to its 1950s preteens living in a fictional Maine town, and the other to these tiny warriors grown up into equally haunted ’80s adults. It: Chapter Two follows suit, but the movie doubles down on the deeper, metaphorical nature of losing one’s innocence and discovering a world full of real-life pain. Disturbingly (and boldly), the film opens with a scene of vicious gay bashing, as modern-day Derry has become a place similar to so much of today’s hate-brimming America. Like autumn leaves, those menacing red balloons reappear—the movie does a beautiful job of bridging its natural and supernatural elements—and it’s up to an older, lonely Mike (Isaiah Mustafa), now the town’s librarian, to call his buds. They include Bev (Jessica Chastain, a persuasive sufferer), trapped in an abusive marriage; Bill (James McAvoy, a little stiff), now a Hollywood screenwriter and crafter of “bad endings”; a slimmed-down Ben (Jay Ryan); the hypochondriac
Review by Joshua Rothkopf At this point, after Superbad and Booksmart, we’ve hit upon a formula: dorky, essentially sweet-natured kids getting into R-rated trouble scored to DJ Shadow’s “Nobody Speak.” Good Boys drops the age range to tween—though it’s certainly not meant to be watched by them, only by nostalgic adults—and makes the most of its disparity between life inexperience and oddly poised dialogue. (The biggest laugh comes when our sixth-grade hero drops the random slam: “Everyone knows your mom plagiarized her cookbook.”) It’s a one-joke premise, which might be best summarized as Kids Say the Fucking Darndest Things. (Hey, that child just swore!) Regardless, this movie is blessed with a cast of young actors who all seem to be in on the gag. Max (Room’s gifted Jacob Tremblay) and Thor (Brady Noon) are both on the verge of discovering girls; Max’s father (Will Forte, supportive to a degree that’s wince-inducing) is thrilled to learn that his son his masturbating. But their gang’s third member, Lucas (Keith L. Williams, who deserves his own spin-off), is still trapped in that squeaky, shrieky zone of easy tears, bruised emotions and instantaneous guilt. Good Boys saddles Lucas with divorcing parents, a wobbling speed walk and the keenest awareness of his being left behind in the sexual sweepstakes, and Williams plays it as expertly as Will Ferrell did in Step Brothers. The screenplay (cowritten by The Office vets Gene Stupnitsky, who directs, and Lee Eisenberg) isn’t