They Call Us Monsters Review
2021年5月1日Download here: http://gg.gg/ufxib
Review by Cory Ohms★★★★ Ebertfest 2017 film #4 is the heartbreaking documentary They Call Us Monsters. Thoughts this film gave me: Sentencing juveniles to life in prison is, in my opinion, the greatest example of cynicism and hopelessness a society can have. They Call Us Monsters contrasts the actions that have the three prisoners facing life sentences and glimpses of their jovial boyhood still remaining. I was filled with conflicting emotions throughout. (BMP Films) The miscreants alluded to in the title of the documentary “They Call Us Monsters” are a trio of teenage boys, incarcerated in a California juvenile detention facility for charges. Yeah, this update also brings some new giant objects and/or lifeforms that you can encounter in space. Sometimes they might reward you with stuff if you excavate. Movie review: ’They Call Us Monsters’ November 2, 2017
Are we entirely the result of our environment? Are our past actions a direct reflection of our character? What is the value of a life? After watching the documentary They Call Us Monsters at the University of Redlands’ Orton Center last Thursday, I was left with these questions.
In this movie, creator Ben Lear sheds valuable insight into the world of juveniles with life sentences. With powerful subject matter and masterful conceptualization, the film was captivating, each scene leaving me eager to find out how the story and those featured in it would develop.
Before watching They Call Us Monsters, I knew little to nothing about the issue of justice for juveniles under California Senate Bill 260, a law that went into effect in 2014 that gives a second chance to most people who were under the age of 18 at the time of their crime. From the film, I learned many juveniles convicted of serious crimes are tried as adults and kept in a separate compound.
Lear’s documentary follows three boys living in such a compound who signed up for a screenwriting class: Antonio Hernandez, Jarad Nava, and Juan Gamez. Their convictions range from charges of attempted murder to first degree murder, and slowly each boy’s character and the story of how he ended up in the compound is revealed.
As the screenwriting classes progress, Jarad, Anthony, and Juan become close, and they develop a bond with the screenwriting teacher. Their task is to create a screenplay that will be produced outside of the prison by their teacher. The finished film, Los, can be viewed at http://insideoutwriters.org.
They Call Us Monsters contrasts the actions that have the three prisoners facing life sentences and glimpses of their jovial boyhood still remaining. I was filled with conflicting emotions throughout. I appreciated that the consequences of such serious crimes were not swept under the rug: a victim of one of the shootings shares her story, and a large part of the film follows the struggles of the prisoners’ families. The prisoners are not made out to be innocent victims of the prison system; it was made clear that they committed serious crimes and are dealing with the repercussions.
Yet, I also felt the film was successful in demonstrating that these are no “little Charles Mansons,” as a state senator in the documentary called them. I saw the boys experience a wide breadth of emotions, and the emotional walls they built up start coming down. Because the prisoners became so vulnerable, I felt connected to them and their raw humanity in a way I did not expect given their crimes. Microsoft encarta premium 2015 free download.
Lear was available for questions after the showing at Redlands. He commented that after the experience of making the film he no longer thinks that there is a type of person who can pull the trigger and one who cannot. The remark encapsulated the feeling I was left with after observing the film. The boys’ empowerment from the creative process of screenwriting sparked hope in both them and me. Through their introspection and self-discovery, I felt an overwhelming sense of aspiration for these young people, despite their circumstances.
I am grateful to have had the opportunity to watch the film, as it provided me insight into the lives of an often-forgotten part of the population, educated me on the debate, about juvenile justice reform, and left me with a hunger to learn more.
Seok-woo (Gong Yoo) is a divorced workaholic. He lives with his mother and barely spends any time with his daughter Su-an (Kim Su-an). He’s so distant from her that he buys her a Nintendo Wii for her birthday, ignoring that she has one already, and that he’s the one who bought it for her for Children’s Day. To make up for this rather-awkward moment, he agrees to give Su-an what she really wants—a trip to her mother’s home in Busan, 280 miles away. It’s just an hour train ride from Seoul. What could possibly go wrong? Even the set-up is a thematic beauty, as this is more than just a train ride for Seok-woo and Su-an—it’s a journey into the past as a father tries to mend bridges and fix that which may be dead. It’s a perfect setting for a zombie movie.
Before they even get to their early-morning train ride, Seok-woo and Su-an see a convoy of emergency vehicles headed into Seoul. When they get to the train, Sang-ho beautifully sets up his cast of characters, giving us beats with the conductors, a pair of elderly sisters, a husband and his pregnant wife, an obnoxious businessman (a vision of Seok-woo in a couple decades), and even a baseball team. A woman who’s clearly not well gets on the train just before it departs, and just as something else disturbing but generally unseen is happening in the station above the platform. Before you know it, the woman is taking out the jugular of a conductor, who immediately becomes a similarly mindless killing machine. These are zombies of the “28 Days Later” variety—fast, focused, and violent. They replicate like a virus, turning whole cars of the train into dead-eyed flesh-eaters in a matter of seconds. They are rabid dogs. And you thought your Metra commute was bad.
The claustrophobic tension of “Train to Busan” is amplified after a brilliantly staged sequence in a train station in which our surviving travelers learn that the entire country has gone brain-hungry. They discover that the undead can’t quite figure out door handles and are mostly blind, so tunnels and lines of sight become essential. Sang-ho also keeps up his social commentary, giving us characters who want to do anything to survive, and others who will do what it takes to save others. Early in the film, Seok-woo tells his daughter, “At a time like this, only watch out for yourself,” but he learns that this isn’t the advice we should live by or pass down to our children. Without spoiling anything, the survivors of “Train to Busan” are only so lucky because of the sacrifice of others. And the film is thematically stronger than your average zombie flick in the way it captures how panic can make monsters of us all, and it is our responsibility to overcome that base instinct in times of crisis.
After the near-perfect first hour of “Train to Busan,” the film slows its progress and makes a few stops that feel repetitive, but the journey recovers nicely for a memorable finale. You could call it “Train of the Living Dead” or “’Snowpiercer’ with Zombies.” Whatever you call it, if it’s playing in your city and you’ve ever been entertained by a zombie movie, it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t be entertained by this one. They Call Us Monsters Reviews
Download here: http://gg.gg/ufxib
https://diarynote-jp.indered.space
Review by Cory Ohms★★★★ Ebertfest 2017 film #4 is the heartbreaking documentary They Call Us Monsters. Thoughts this film gave me: Sentencing juveniles to life in prison is, in my opinion, the greatest example of cynicism and hopelessness a society can have. They Call Us Monsters contrasts the actions that have the three prisoners facing life sentences and glimpses of their jovial boyhood still remaining. I was filled with conflicting emotions throughout. (BMP Films) The miscreants alluded to in the title of the documentary “They Call Us Monsters” are a trio of teenage boys, incarcerated in a California juvenile detention facility for charges. Yeah, this update also brings some new giant objects and/or lifeforms that you can encounter in space. Sometimes they might reward you with stuff if you excavate. Movie review: ’They Call Us Monsters’ November 2, 2017
Are we entirely the result of our environment? Are our past actions a direct reflection of our character? What is the value of a life? After watching the documentary They Call Us Monsters at the University of Redlands’ Orton Center last Thursday, I was left with these questions.
In this movie, creator Ben Lear sheds valuable insight into the world of juveniles with life sentences. With powerful subject matter and masterful conceptualization, the film was captivating, each scene leaving me eager to find out how the story and those featured in it would develop.
Before watching They Call Us Monsters, I knew little to nothing about the issue of justice for juveniles under California Senate Bill 260, a law that went into effect in 2014 that gives a second chance to most people who were under the age of 18 at the time of their crime. From the film, I learned many juveniles convicted of serious crimes are tried as adults and kept in a separate compound.
Lear’s documentary follows three boys living in such a compound who signed up for a screenwriting class: Antonio Hernandez, Jarad Nava, and Juan Gamez. Their convictions range from charges of attempted murder to first degree murder, and slowly each boy’s character and the story of how he ended up in the compound is revealed.
As the screenwriting classes progress, Jarad, Anthony, and Juan become close, and they develop a bond with the screenwriting teacher. Their task is to create a screenplay that will be produced outside of the prison by their teacher. The finished film, Los, can be viewed at http://insideoutwriters.org.
They Call Us Monsters contrasts the actions that have the three prisoners facing life sentences and glimpses of their jovial boyhood still remaining. I was filled with conflicting emotions throughout. I appreciated that the consequences of such serious crimes were not swept under the rug: a victim of one of the shootings shares her story, and a large part of the film follows the struggles of the prisoners’ families. The prisoners are not made out to be innocent victims of the prison system; it was made clear that they committed serious crimes and are dealing with the repercussions.
Yet, I also felt the film was successful in demonstrating that these are no “little Charles Mansons,” as a state senator in the documentary called them. I saw the boys experience a wide breadth of emotions, and the emotional walls they built up start coming down. Because the prisoners became so vulnerable, I felt connected to them and their raw humanity in a way I did not expect given their crimes. Microsoft encarta premium 2015 free download.
Lear was available for questions after the showing at Redlands. He commented that after the experience of making the film he no longer thinks that there is a type of person who can pull the trigger and one who cannot. The remark encapsulated the feeling I was left with after observing the film. The boys’ empowerment from the creative process of screenwriting sparked hope in both them and me. Through their introspection and self-discovery, I felt an overwhelming sense of aspiration for these young people, despite their circumstances.
I am grateful to have had the opportunity to watch the film, as it provided me insight into the lives of an often-forgotten part of the population, educated me on the debate, about juvenile justice reform, and left me with a hunger to learn more.
Seok-woo (Gong Yoo) is a divorced workaholic. He lives with his mother and barely spends any time with his daughter Su-an (Kim Su-an). He’s so distant from her that he buys her a Nintendo Wii for her birthday, ignoring that she has one already, and that he’s the one who bought it for her for Children’s Day. To make up for this rather-awkward moment, he agrees to give Su-an what she really wants—a trip to her mother’s home in Busan, 280 miles away. It’s just an hour train ride from Seoul. What could possibly go wrong? Even the set-up is a thematic beauty, as this is more than just a train ride for Seok-woo and Su-an—it’s a journey into the past as a father tries to mend bridges and fix that which may be dead. It’s a perfect setting for a zombie movie.
Before they even get to their early-morning train ride, Seok-woo and Su-an see a convoy of emergency vehicles headed into Seoul. When they get to the train, Sang-ho beautifully sets up his cast of characters, giving us beats with the conductors, a pair of elderly sisters, a husband and his pregnant wife, an obnoxious businessman (a vision of Seok-woo in a couple decades), and even a baseball team. A woman who’s clearly not well gets on the train just before it departs, and just as something else disturbing but generally unseen is happening in the station above the platform. Before you know it, the woman is taking out the jugular of a conductor, who immediately becomes a similarly mindless killing machine. These are zombies of the “28 Days Later” variety—fast, focused, and violent. They replicate like a virus, turning whole cars of the train into dead-eyed flesh-eaters in a matter of seconds. They are rabid dogs. And you thought your Metra commute was bad.
The claustrophobic tension of “Train to Busan” is amplified after a brilliantly staged sequence in a train station in which our surviving travelers learn that the entire country has gone brain-hungry. They discover that the undead can’t quite figure out door handles and are mostly blind, so tunnels and lines of sight become essential. Sang-ho also keeps up his social commentary, giving us characters who want to do anything to survive, and others who will do what it takes to save others. Early in the film, Seok-woo tells his daughter, “At a time like this, only watch out for yourself,” but he learns that this isn’t the advice we should live by or pass down to our children. Without spoiling anything, the survivors of “Train to Busan” are only so lucky because of the sacrifice of others. And the film is thematically stronger than your average zombie flick in the way it captures how panic can make monsters of us all, and it is our responsibility to overcome that base instinct in times of crisis.
After the near-perfect first hour of “Train to Busan,” the film slows its progress and makes a few stops that feel repetitive, but the journey recovers nicely for a memorable finale. You could call it “Train of the Living Dead” or “’Snowpiercer’ with Zombies.” Whatever you call it, if it’s playing in your city and you’ve ever been entertained by a zombie movie, it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t be entertained by this one. They Call Us Monsters Reviews
Download here: http://gg.gg/ufxib
https://diarynote-jp.indered.space
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