Life Through The Lens Of Film

Delving into the artistry and emotions of films, I share my personal thoughts and deep dives into the world of cinema. Join me as we uncover the magic that makes each movie a work of art! In addition to film reviews and analysis, I’ll also share my own filmmaking videos, offering insight into how they came to life and the creative process behind them.

Who
am I?

A deeply philosophical question—one that I hope this website can help make more sense of through my love for film. Film has always been more than just entertainment for me; it’s a way of understanding life, emotion, obsession, passion, and the human experience. Through the stories, characters, and artistic choices in cinema, I hope to explore the questions that don’t always have clear answers. Maybe by diving into the films I love, breaking them down, and sharing my thoughts, I’ll get a little closer to understanding those bigger questions we all wrestle with.

“The most powerful thing about music in film is its ability to tap directly into the audience’s subconscious.”
— Thomas Newman

Film Scoring

An Often an Underrated Piece of Storytelling.

I think this could be due to how much music we hear on a regular basis. We tend to become desensitized by the amount of music we consume and how it may influence our moods. Oftentimes, we watch a scene in a film that may not seem significant at first, then suddenly we start to cry—and we go on to wonder why those tears are falling. From what I’ve observed through the amount of film I consume, the music is incredibly influential in pulling those emotions out of you.

In a speech course I took in college, we were prompted to give a persuasive speech on any topic we cared about and why others should care too. My topic was: “Film Score: The Unsung Heroes in Film/Movies.” I had never felt so confident speaking publicly about anything, but this was something I felt really strongly about, so the speech went great. I basically talked about how masterful the work of scoring is and why composers should receive more credit for their contributions to film. 

What I admire most about score composers is how they create music tailored to specific characters and scenes. When I listen to my score playlist, I’m thrust back into the film’s atmosphere and the emotions of those scenes. That’s why I enjoy the music so much. It can also be appreciated on its own—even without knowing anything about the film—though in a different way.

Film scoring is a powerful part of the filmmaking process to me because, growing up, I was surrounded by many different types of music—whether it was through pressing play on the music myself or hearing it from others, either from family members or at church.

A few years ago, I started to wonder why certain songs made me feel the way I did when listening to them. So I traced it back to when I was between the ages of 5 and 15, when my dad and mum would take us to the village every Christmas—which we weren’t very fond of—to spend time with our grandparents. I bring up that time period because my grandma would always play music composed by Ludwig van Beethoven, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and other classical composers. Mozart and Beethoven are the names I remember most from the cassette tapes she had. My siblings and I would constantly joke, “Grandma is listening to Beethoven again and again.” But when I think back to that period, I realize that even though we joked, there was a part of me that subconsciously enjoyed the music—even if I couldn’t understand why at the time. I also thought it was just “old people music.” Growing up during that time, most of what we heard was hip-hop, pop, and Afrobeats, so there was no way I was going to get into classical music or music of that sort back then. 

Anyway, fast-forward to now—I’m at a point in my life where that kind of composed music is really appealing to me, and I finally understand why. It’s because I love music that makes me feel, and film score composers are specialists at doing just that. When I listen to film scores and then go back to Beethoven and Mozart, it’s clear how much influence they’ve had on the great composers of today. I now listen to Beethoven, does that make me “old people”? I really don’t care.

I also want to add that my affection for score composition is influenced by growing up in the Catholic Church where I would hear the orchestra playing hymns with all kinds of instruments. 

My top three favorite instruments used in score composition are the violin, the piano, and the cello. If I were to learn an instrument, it would be one of these three. I feel like they are the most powerful when it comes to expressing emotion and they have so much personality.

Although scoring is a great addition to any film, it shouldn’t feel like a crutch. Film is primarily a visual medium, so you want the audience to feel the story or scene as well as the music. Finding that balance—of when and how to introduce music—is necessary in every great film.

Good music is different from good scoring. I define good scoring as when the music fits and goes hand in hand with the emotions and atmosphere of the film. On the other hand, music can be good but not necessarily fit the film. That is an important distinction.

In my film score playlist attached to this page, you’ll find a variety of scores I’ve enjoyed recently. If you connect with the playlist or share my love for film scoring, I’d love to hear from you. 

~ Gerard Odigwe

F1 (2025) Dir. Joseph Kosinski

Joseph Kosinski is back again with another expertly crafted film following Top Gun: Maverick. To go from making Top Gun: Maverick to F1 is a truly laudable feat. Just like he did with the jets in Top Gun, he has once again—this time with cars—made everything look incredibly cinematic. This is by no means the first film to make car racing feel cinematic, but there’s quite a bit I liked about this film as a whole.

The sound design in F1 was one of the standout elements for me. The speakers in the cinema where I watched it also amplified how deeply I felt the sounds in this film. In a film like this, sound design is especially important because the goal is to make the audience feel like they’re right there, watching the races live or even driving the cars. It definitely worked for me—I felt every vroom of the engine and every rumble of the tires. The way the sounds were mixed with the editing also added to how impactful each scene felt.

The cinematography here was really exciting, capturing the car races from multiple perspectives. Being able to see the races from different angles made it a truly immersive experience for me.

I really enjoyed the writing in this film. In a lot of movies, we mostly follow the main character’s story without caring much about the supporting characters’ arcs. But the writers of F1 do a great job of creating subplots for these supporting characters and making them genuinely interesting. I find it satisfying to see minor characters—who don’t have a major impact on the main story—still have their own arcs and moments, all without disrupting the overall narrative.

Brad Pitt gave a really powerful performance here once again. I’ve always known he’s a good actor, but seeing how he commands the screen and carries each scene without doing too much is truly masterful—a great actor proving once again why he deserves to be considered one of the best we have.

Kerry Condon’s and Javier Bardem’s performances were also standout moments for me. Kerry Condon’s character arc actually hit me even more than Brad Pitt’s or Damson Idris’s during my first watch. Her character was well written, and there was something in her performance that made me get really emotional by the end of the film. That might also be because I found her pretty attractive, lol—but seriously, she was great. I think this was my first time seeing Damson Idris in a film, and he definitely held his own. I hope to see him in more films in the future.

Having seen Ford v Ferrari, I couldn’t help but feel like I had seen parts of this film before. Don’t get me wrong—it’s still really good and enjoyable in a lot of ways—but I can’t ignore that observation. I just wasn’t as excited during some scenes because of how familiar they felt. This film might have been nearly perfect for me if I had seen it before watching Ford v Ferrari. Because of that, some of the plot felt slightly predictable. That said, like I mentioned earlier, this is still a very well-made and fun film, regardless of its similarities to Ford v Ferrari or other racing films.

I can’t leave without discussing Hans Zimmer’s impact on this film. Anytime I’m moved by a score, I have to mention it. Zimmer’s music adds an extra layer of oomph to the intensity of each scene, especially during the races. Watching the races is already thrilling on its own, with all the drama and tension, but Zimmer’s score takes it to another level. The sound design was so strong that the film didn’t necessarily need a score—but having Zimmer’s compositions alongside the driving just made the experience that much more entertaining.

This is for sure one of my favorites of 2025 so far. Definitely worth watching on the biggest screen possible.

The Brutalist (2024) Dir. Brady Corbet

In this three-and-a-half-hour film, you will definitely feel the length. I talked about this before, in my review of Once Upon a Time in America, which had a similar runtime. The Brutalist was also a quite enjoyable long film. It tackles so many interesting topics. It is an epic, and it feels like one. In this review, I will be discussing my experience watching The Brutalist and what I enjoyed most about it.

I saw this film at the Vista Theater in Los Angeles in December of last year. It was a really special experience—not just watching the film, but the way I saw it. At the time, it was one of only three cinemas showing it in the U.S., at least to my knowledge. At the Vista, we were also given pamphlets with fun bits of information about the film. It’s a vintage-style theater. As I sat down awaiting the usual pre-movie trailers, the curtains (yes curtains) opened to reveal a trailer for 1982’s Sophie’s Choice, followed by a few other trailers for older films, some even in black and white. I really couldn’t contain my excitement in the moment. Because of the film’s limited viewing locations, most of the people who made it to the cinema were also cinephiles, so I had never felt more at home than in that moment. The film itself added to the old-timey feel—with the era it was set in, the choice to use VistaVision cameras, and the implementation of a 25-minute intermission about halfway through. It all felt like I had entered a portal to an earlier time.

I watched it again a week later, this time in the less glamorous setting of an AMC. This time the intermission being 10 minutes shorter than it was at The Vista Theater. I just had to see The Brutalist again because, during the first viewing, I got a little too distracted by my excitement in the moment. The second time was definitely a more focused watch, which helped me enjoy much more about the film. I’ve just seen it again—this time in the comfort of my home. I watched it to refresh my memory of the film and to see if I still felt the same way about it today and yes I do feel even better. 

The cinematography of this film was a masterpiece. Because it was a film about an architect, there were so many beautiful shots of landscapes and buildings. The shot choices all felt intentional. There’s a shot at the start of the film that has now become the most popular image from it—a shot of an upside-down, tilting Statue of Liberty. It’s such a provocative image once you see the film. That is easily my favorite shot from any of the films I saw—or that were released—last year.

The performances from Adrien Brody and Guy Pearce were my favorites in this film. I know the hype train for Adrien Brody’s performance in The Brutalist has come and gone, but I would still like to hop on. His performance was easily my favorite from last year. It wasn’t all that surprising, especially knowing he won the Best Actor Academy Award for his role in The Pianist, which was another great film. He was 29 when he won that award, making him the youngest man to ever do so. He definitely channeled some of that performance from The Pianist into his role in The Brutalist. The roles are quite similar, with both characters being Jewish during World War II. Adrien’s performance in The Brutalist was just different enough to earn him another Academy Award for Best Actor. Guy Pearce’s character was also quite good, playing that thin line between kind and condescending. Because the film is structured over three distinct time periods, it was fun to see the distinctions in their performances over the course of the film.

Having seen a lot of films, scores can start to sound pretty similar. But Daniel Blumberg, the composer for The Brutalist, did a great job creating a score that sounds truly unique. I’m not sure if anyone else felt the same, but some parts of the score actually sounded like construction to me. If you didn’t catch that, you’ll have to listen again to understand what I mean. It was clearly very intentional. I just love how much effort goes into crafting a piece of music that fully connects with the characters and the story being told. The atmosphere the score creates is palpable.

At the start of my third viewing—about six months after I first saw it—I heard the score in the opening scene, and the memory of seeing it for the first time at the Vista hit me all at once. That moment felt deeply nostalgic. It also reminded me just how good I thought the score was. After that viewing, I had to add a few of my favorite pieces from The Brutalist to my film score playlist I’ve attached to my website.

Another reason I loved this film was because I enjoyed—and could relate in some ways to—parts of the story. I am not Jewish, nor have I ever had to leave my country because of a war. What I’m saying is that there are aspects of this film that anyone could relate to, no matter who you are. For me, it was the idea of being in control of your work or art. I don’t like to be told what to do or be advised on what could have worked better in the work I do. I guess I’m stubborn like that—but really, it’s that I want to have the maximum level of creative freedom in my work. In The Brutalist, László is an architect fighting for full creative freedom in his architectural ideas, and I relate to that in a sense.

My favorite line in this film was from Adrien Brody’s character: “Is there a better description of a cube than its construction?”—a line that resonated with me deeply. I don’t often remember specific lines from films, but this one in particular has stuck with me ever since I saw the film for the first time. I remember hearing it in the cinema and just pausing to think about it. It made me smile inquisitively, thinking of an answer. After watching the film a third time, I now have a better understanding—not really an answer to the question, but an appreciation of its meaning. What I understand is that László was giving a deeply philosophical response to why he loves and chooses to do architecture. It’s a line that can be applied by any artist to the art they create. Another line from a different film that stuck with me in a similar way is: “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain,” from The Dark Knight, which I’m sure everyone has heard before. Both of these lines deeply resonate with the stories being told in their respective films.

I love the atmosphere in The Brutalist because it gives it a high level of rewatchability—regardless of the bleakness of the story at certain points. The atmosphere in this film is really created by the scoring, choice of time period, and the cinematography.

Brady Corbet did a great job directing and creating the visual language of The Brutalist. It’s such a dense film, especially given the sheer number of themes it tackles. I respect how ambitious he was with this story and how relevant he made it feel, regardless of the time period in which it’s set. His wife, Mona Fastvold, also deserves credit, as she co-wrote The Brutalist with Corbet. His choice to use stylized title cards at the beginning and at the ending making them slanted was a brilliant artistic choice in my opinion.

I have seen this film three times now, and it has only gotten better with each viewing. It is not a perfect film by no means but I enjoyed a majority of it nonetheless. I would recommend it to people who have strong stomachs and patience because of its length. 

~ Gerard Odigwe

Black Swan (2010) Dir. Darren Aronofsky

The first time I saw Black Swan, I was bewildered, shocked, and sad. Today, after rewatching it, I feel emotional, intrigued, and reflective. These are the two sets of feelings I’ve had after my first two viewings. One left me shocked and mostly confused; the other left an even bigger mark on me—a mark that I think will last for a long time. I believe this is because I watched the film at two very different points in my life. Thought it was great on both watches. It couldn’t have come back to me on a more perfect day. All of this is why I preach rewatching films.

The film is easily a cinematic masterpiece—one that can rightfully be regarded as a classic. It excels on so many levels: acting, directing, writing, and cinematography. These are my favorite aspects of the film.

Natalie delivered an eerily good performance in this film—one that makes me want to call her and ask if she’s okay. At no point did it feel like she was acting. Her ability to portray such a deep and complex character seemed completely effortless. I read that she spent a year learning ballet in preparation for this role, and she absolutely wiped it out of the park with that as well. Total dedication. She deservedly won an Academy Award for this performance, and it doesn’t surprise me one bit. I can’t praise it enough—honestly, it’s one of the greatest performances I’ve ever seen on screen.

I think the writing and directing deserve some praise next, especially after that performance, because they go hand in hand. This film slightly reminds me of the 1997 Japanese animated film Perfect Blue and Whiplash (2014)—both well-directed and well-written films. I won’t go into the connection they share because I don’t want to spoil anything, but they explore quite similar ideas in uniquely different ways. All masterpieces, in my opinion. 

Addition: In comparison to Whiplash, I’d say they tell quite similar stories—Whiplash being more literal, while Black Swan is more psychological. Both are amazing in the way their stories unfold. Story this, story that—the story being about getting overwhelmed and lost in your craft to the point where it becomes detrimental to your health and social life (over-dedication). Nina in Black Swan gets consumed by her desire to become a great ballerina, just like Andrew in Whiplash is obsessed with becoming a great drummer. I love these two films because they use their respective professions as storytelling tools. Whiplash uses drums, along with the quick cutting in its score and editing, to give the film that jazz feel—highlighting Andrew’s chase to be a drummer in a jazz orchestra. Similarly, Black Swan uses its score and writing to express the world of ballet and the intense effort put into dancing by ballerinas.

The cinematography in this film is such an important piece of the storytelling. If you miss some of the shot choices, there’s a high chance you’ll also miss an important plot point. The way the cinematography, acting, writing, and directing interplay with each other is so unique and enjoyable—and it’s really what makes this a masterpiece in visual storytelling, in my opinion.

I also want to praise the VFX team, because their work here was perfect and beautifully put together.

A great film—worth a first, second, and many more watches, because there’s so much to pick up on.

~ Gerard Odigwe

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) Dir. Céline Sciamma

I saw Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) for the first time six days ago. It’s a two-hour-long French film. I enjoyed my first watch so much that I had to run it back today. I’ve spent the last five days thinking about this film—partly because of how beautifully it was shot, and also because of how intriguing I found the story. That combination definitely influenced my decision to rewatch it today. There’s something about beautifully shot period pieces that truly transports you to the time.

It’s a story about love and art from the female point of view—her gaze—in a society heavily influenced by the male gaze. It’s a type of story we don’t get to see enough of because they rarely go mainstream. I’m not a woman, but I gained so much from watching this film. You may not relate with the specific scenarios, but I think the story is broad enough that anyone can connect with—whether it’s about love, art, sexuality, or “societal obligation.” It’s not just a beautiful film; it’s an important one. 

There’s so much subtle storytelling going on in this film that, if you’re not paying attention, you could miss it. Some of it isn’t as subtle, so it’s pretty easy to follow. But being able to catch those quieter moments of storytelling makes for an even more engaging watch. Usually, when I watch films, I’m locked in—trying not to miss any little details—but I know it’s impossible to catch everything. That’s why I choose to rewatch.

There are so many interesting and unique choices that the director, Céline Sciamma, and the cinematographer, Claire Mathon, made in telling this story that it makes the film an instant classic.

My favorite thing about this film is the silence. Because there’s so little dialogue, you’re forced to pay attention to other elements—which I loved. Things like the performances, the cinematography, and the symbolism. The film is very intentional with its use of dialogue and shot choices, so it feels like every word spoken and every shot selected means something. All of this made for a very compelling first and second watch.

Adèle Haenel and Noémie Merlant gave really strong performances that worked so well with the story. They played such interesting characters, and I couldn’t help but fall in with them. That’s also a credit to Céline’s writing and direction.

I understand this film may not be for everyone, but I’d say it was more than worth the watch. I really liked it and look forward to reflecting on it even more.

~ Gerard Odigwe

Drive My Car (2021) Dir. Ryūsuke Hamaguchi

It’s going to take some time for me to fully process this film. This three-hour experience spoke to me on multiple levels, and I believe it would do the same for anyone who watches it. Its themes are quite mature, and I’m really glad I took the time to see it today.

I’ll start by saying that this film doesn’t tell you what to feel or how to react, and that’s something I deeply respect. What it does so well is present its characters and their lives, allowing you to decide how you feel about them. In other words, this film leaves itself open to interpretation in a way that is deeply contemplative.

As I write this review, I’m struggling to find the right words to express what this film is making me feel. It would take me forever to fully articulate those emotions, but for now, I’ll say what I can.

I love this film so much. 

There is so much to connect with and reflect on in this film. It explores its themes with raw honesty, and the way those themes are handled resonated with me. Watching films is very therapeutic for me, so when a film grips me and makes me self-reflect this much, it’s truly amazing. The themes in this film are deeply thought-provoking and compelling. I shed a tear during a few scenes, not just because they were sad, but because of how powerful they felt to me.

I mentioned how therapeutic films can be for me, but this one, in particular, felt especially soothing. The way it was shot, the sound design, the music, and even the performances all contributed to a very calming experience. The cinematography was subtle yet impactful, perfectly complementing the story. There’s a meditative feel to the film.

I loved the performances from Hidetoshi Nishijima and the rest of the cast—they all felt incredibly convincing. This film has a significant amount of dialogue, but every word felt necessary and pushed the story forward. The balance between dialogue and silence was deeply felt, and I especially loved the moments where silence was used as a storytelling device—I always appreciate when films do that.

I also want to commend writing in this film and the depth of the characters. It helped so much in connecting with the characters.

I’d also like to mention that this film requires patience, so if you’re going to watch it, you have to fully commit. Director Ryusuke Hamaguchi takes his time fleshing out the story, and I think his approach was not only effective but also necessary. The structure of the film worked for me—at no point did I feel like it was dragging or overstating its point. Given the subject matter, this storytelling approach felt entirely fitting.

I will be watching this again in the near future for now I’m going to reflect some more.

~ Gerard Odigwe

Friendship (2025) Dir. Andrew DeYoung

It’s been a while since I laughed out loud while watching a film. Sometimes, this is because I struggle with pure comedy films—by that, I mean when it feels like comedy for comedy’s sake. I appreciate comedy more when it’s written into the characters from the start of the film, rather than when it comes from characters who feel like they’re doing stand-up. What I’m trying to say is, I prefer comedy that has a story behind it. That being said, Friendship does this brilliantly, in my opinion.

I have to say, at the beginning of the film, I struggled a bit to get familiar with the comedy. This is normal, as certain types of comedy can be an acquired taste. It took me about ten minutes to acquire that taste, and honestly, it ended up working for me. It may not work for everyone though.

The characters are also quite relatable in a way that feels hilariously real. It’s as if the director or writer is telling an exaggerated story about something that happened to them or someone they know. I always admire it when directors can make the audience feel for characters who are actually really annoying. It’s usually because the character is the lead—we follow their story, see the film from their point of view, and understand why they are the way they are. I guess that’s why, in a film like Todd Phillips’ Joker, you sometimes find yourself supporting the Joker. It’s really all about perspective when you think about it.

Not everyone deserves to be sympathized with—but wait, it may sound crazy to say, but even for the worst of the worst people on Earth, if you were shown a film from their perspective, you’d probably sympathize with some part of their story. I find that interesting to think about, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since I saw films like Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driverand Joker—two films that explore the idea of perspective.The story and characters in this film are actually really sad and depressing. But there’s something about the comedy in this story that works so well given the circumstances.

I enjoyed the editing and music placement—it really added to the comedic feel of the film. I feel like some comedic films forget that they’re films and just stack jokes on top of jokes, ignoring the fact that films are audiovisual. They often overlook visual storytelling in the editing, thinking it’s enough to just be funny. But the way a film is edited can elevate the jokes and sometimes even be funnier than the jokes themselves. More comedic film directors need to remember they’re making films, not skits.

I’ll conclude by saying that although I enjoyed the film and had a good laugh watching it, I struggled a little bit with the drama aspect. It worked for the most part, but I was left wanting a bit more from that part of the story. The part I’m referring to is the relationship between Craig and Tami, played by Tim Robinson and Kate Mara, as well as their relationship with their son. The wife and son, especially, felt a bit empty as characters. It seemed like there was an attempt to develop Tami and give her some depth, but they stopped midway. Although, knowing that this is a comedy, that might have actually been one of the jokes. If it was, then that part didn’t quite work for me.

~ Gerard Odigwe

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