Bob Odenkirk makes a welcome return in this vehemently entertaining action comedy as Hutch Mansell, the retired government assassin who just wants a quiet life with his family, despite having a name so butch he might have climbed out of the womb with a scowl on his face and a knife behind his back.
Daily archives: 25/08/2025
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The sounds of the animals and the environmental ambience of the place infuse the opening track and the curls of fiddle appear like breath from the reindeer's mouths as the light touch of snow across the landscape obscures the steaming bodies. Sounds scatter and sprawl against a circular vibes motif and a wider selection of creatures makes an understated appearance. You feel lost in the open spaces, the Hardanger fiddle's waver surprisingly gentle, its comfort in the forbidding landscape clear.
Dylan Eil Ton’s canvas is a beautifully charged one, texturally resplendent in the lowercase clamber of nature, the hissy brush of branch and canopy, the leafy scrunch of wondering feet. A satisfying minimalism conspiring with the knothole whirr of some aqualung and whispered disturbances on strung out heralds. Subtle magic pollinating in a sudden scattering of threadbare words to funnelling breath, or trembles of fluted exhale / intake suckling on a pebbling tide.
Ari Aster’s bleak and self-indulgent neo-Western epic casts its Panavisual eye over a New Mexico town riven not only by the COVID-19 pandemic, but also by a mayoral election that divides and threatens to conquer its microcosmic society of cowboys and other, more modern, stereotypes, all of whom have exiled themselves from the wider world but can never quite achieve the level of rugged individualism they’d like.