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  • If you live and own a property in Overland Park, there are a few things you should know about window cleaning. Many homeowners and business premises owners often forget or ignore the windows. As such, many buildings look unattractive from the outside and dumpy from the inside. If you want your family to enjoy leisure at home and your employees to enjoy comfort and happiness in their workstations, consider professional window washing. During window cleaning Overland Park, a seasoned professional will eliminate grime, grout, paint, dirt, and other foreign elements from the surface. Ultimately, your property will look and feel comfortable. Unfortunately, there are only a handful of companies that have the expertise and proficiency needed to restore windows. HOA Window Cleaning is a distinguished company.

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  • Windows may appear uncomplicated, but it takes a lot of skill and expertise to clean them professionally. Unbeknownst to many, glass surfaces have pores in which dirt, grime, hard water, and mineral deposits can collect. If left unclean for a long time, windows could decay and break easily. It is fundamental to have your windows cleaned every once in a while. Spotless and shiny windows make any property look glamorous and spacious. If you need window washing in Kansas City, hire a certified and verified professional. Heart of America (HOA) Window Cleaning is a company that has existed for more than seven decades. Over the years, we have perfected the art of professional window cleaning. Our seasoned window washers undergo rigorous training to equip them with the tools necessary to achieve the best cleaning outcomes.

    • Entertainer
      Entertainer uploaded 18 images to an album Camila Cabello [420 images]
      Born Karla Camila Cabello Estrabao March 3, 1997 Cojímar, Eastern Havana, Cuba Citizenship Cuban (1997–present) American (2008–present) Occupation Singer, song writer Years...
      • mrobusinesstoday
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            • Look for a reputable Apple iPhone service centre in Delhi. It will have a team of technicians equipped with advanced skills and high-tech equipment. And they are most likely to handle your water-damaged iPhone effectively.

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            • Instead of mopping around, check if you can fix the performance issue at your end. If you cannot do that, do not freak out, thinking about the money you will need to buy a new Mac. The option to visit a service centre for MacBook repair is always open for you.

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              • Bradstone Allington Reviews

                Bradstone Allington is rated "Excellent" with 4.5 / 5 on Trustpilot


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                • Alexander Proud

                  As founder of the Proud Group, Alexander Proud has a track record of success behind him. Proud Galleries is one of the worlds leading fine art photographic galleries, featuring authentic, original prints from some of the top names in show biz. The gallery was launched in autumn 1998 by Alex Proud to bring affordable high quality photography to a mainstream market.

                  • Entertainer
                    Entertainer published a blog post The Scary of Sixty-First


                    The explosion of conspiracy theories that has been fueled by the Always Online era has led to a different kind of urban paranoia. There’s a growing sense, especially for those in true crime circles, that something dark and horrifying lurks behind every apartment door. Think about all the domiciles in a NYC apartment building and then all the horror stories that unfold every day just on true crime podcasts alone. There’s probably something wrong down the hall. Or maybe even in the apartment you’re now renting. This creeping dread is the fuel for the best aspects of Dasha Nekrasova’s “The Scary of Sixty-First,” a horror/thriller clearly inspired by urban paranoia thrillers like Roman Polanski’s “Repulsion” but with a modern twist. But the filmmaking lets down Nekrasova’s concept, particularly in a cluttered and sometimes incompetent final act, leaving viewers to wonder what it all means, or if it means anything at all.

                    Addie (Betsey Brown) and Noelle (Madeline Quinn) are introduced doing something city dwellers know is truly horrifying: apartment hunting. From the beginning, they have that slightly uncomfortable dynamic of friends who may not be so for too long. In your twenties, you often find yourself agreeing to live with a friend even though you may not be thrilled about the prospect of seeing them every day—a mediocre roommate you know is better than a stranger you don't know. But they’re mostly cordial even as Addie seems startled by the bizarre layout of the new place on the Upper East Side that includes strange locks on certain doors. It’s a steal. They have to take it.

                    Addie has an oaf of a boyfriend (Mark H. Rapaport) to distract her from her roommate, but everything changes for both women when an unnamed stranger knocks on their door who is credited only as “The Girl” (played by Nekrasova herself). The Girl tells Noelle that she believes they’re living in a place that has seen untold horrors: one of the apartments in which Jeffrey Epstein used to traffic and abuse girls. That explains the low rent, although maybe not the creepy tarot card they found when they moved in.

                    Before you know it, Noelle and The Girl have tumbled down the rabbit hole into a Wonderland of conspiracy theories about Epstein and his apartments. They volley increasingly passionate conspiracy theories back and forth—yes, the word “Pizzagate” is used—even reaching a point where they’re convinced that Epstein’s apartments are five blocks apart because there are five points on a Pentagram. Duh. As they start to go mad with theories about what happened in the apartment, they don’t seem to notice that Addie is quite literally going insane too. She seems almost possessed by one of the children that Epstein trafficked, even terrifying her boyfriend with some extreme behavior during sex.

                    The best aspect of “The Scary of Sixty-First” is how Nekrasova captures the connections that can be made through conspiracy theories. As Noelle and The Girl get more involved with them, they form a bond that becomes a romance, and Nekrasova (co-host of the "Red Scare" podcast) knows a thing or two about how personal dynamics can form through intense common belief. There are so many interesting ideas in “The Scary of Sixty-First” that feel like they will be a part of the fabric of the next decade of horror and I kept trying to imagine those ideas in a film with tighter craft and performances.

                    Because while I can admire the effort here, the execution is another story. Hunter Zimny’s 16mm cinematography is wildly inconsistent, sometimes recalling the paranoia thrillers of the ‘70s that so clearly inspired this film but also feeling a bit slapped together, something closer to Mumblecore/indie drama filmmaking. It’s so obviously a descendant of filmmakers like Polanski and De Palma (with even a dash of Argento), but the framing here feels more amateurish, especially in the final act when Nekrasova relies too heavily on shaky camerawork to convey terror. 

                    In the end, I was left feeling like “The Scary of Sixty-First” was all set-up and no follow-through. Sure, it gets bloody and crazy in ways that will probably turn off some viewers, but it doesn't feel feel like it has something to say about our conspiracy theory culture. Perhaps that’s the point—that this kind of QAnon spiraling out about things we cannot control will only lead to misery. We might look back on “The Scary of Sixty-First” as the start of a sort of apathetic Twitterverse brand of genre filmmaking, one that recognizes that making a horror film is harder in an age of real villains like Jeffrey Epstein. For now, it just feels like a cold shrug instead of the impassioned warning it could have been.

                    Now playing in select theaters.

                    By: Brian Tallerico
                    Posted: December 3, 2021, 2:46 pm

                    • Entertainer
                      Entertainer published a blog post Citizen Ashe


                      Tennis is on the cinematic menu in 2021. First, we had “King Richard.” Now we have “Citizen Ashe,” the new documentary by directors Rex Miller and Sam Pollard. These releases have some things in common. Both films look at Black excellence in a sport that, as one talking head here points out, “was so White that even the balls and the uniforms were white.” Richard Williams and Arthur Ashe were forced to practice on courts in their respective neighborhoods and had issues when trying to use or compete in Whites-only arenas. Ashe may have even been on Williams’ mind when he decided to point his superstar daughters toward tennis. Oddly enough, both movies have a societal position in their titles that describes how their subjects will be pitched to the audience; this is a much more down-to-Earth depiction befitting a “citizen” who just happens to be tennis royalty.

                      Before the Williams sisters, and after Althea Gibson, there was Arthur Ashe. Ashe was the first major Black male tennis star. According to Wikipedia, he’s also the only Black man to win the singles title at Wimbledon, the Australian Open and the US Open. That last event is held in the world’s largest tennis court, Arthur Ashe Stadium in Flushing, Queens. After retiring in 1980 due to heart issues, Ashe became a coach and a sportscaster. On the activist front, he campaigned against apartheid in South Africa and, after contracting AIDS from a blood transfusion, he started the Arthur Ashe Foundation for the Defeat of AIDS. Eventually, he succumbed to the disease on February 6, 1993.

                      Miller and Pollard show us how all of this transpired, and it’s a lot more complicated than that brief synopsis indicates. For example, Ashe’s path to activism is far from a straight line, nor is it without a nuance that, at times, is fraught with controversy. Ashe came to athletic prominence during the turbulent battle for Civil Rights in the 1960s, yet he was far less vocal than his contemporaries. “Citizen Ashe” shows how his the media crudely used his demeanor in stark contrast to “angry Black athletes” like Cassius Clay. As Clay and Lew Alcindor were becoming Muhammad Ali and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar respectively, they were also speaking out against racial injustices. When asked to add his own voice to the chorus, Ashe declined. A scene of him referring to Jim Crow treatment as being “mildly discriminated against” made me utter some choice profanities. Olympic Project for Human Rights founder Dr. Harry Edwards, a prominent figure in this documentary, says at one point “we thought he was an Uncle Tom!”

                      “Citizen Ashe” digs deeper, exploring the differences in sports and how they may influence a certain type of response to injustice. Like Venus and Serena’s dad, Ashe’s father insisted on tennis rather than the “expected” sports a Black person would play. Seen in old photographs and footage, the elder Ashe has a distinguished but stern demeanor. Raising his two sons after the death of their mother, he instilled in his sons a respect for authority that would keep them alive in segregated times. Big men like Jim Brown and Ali were in far rougher sports than tennis (and more integrated ones, at that), and therefore could make some noise and rattle the racists. For tennis, Ashe had to take the more docile tact his idol Jackie Robinson did for baseball. Somehow that allowed him to run the long game when it came to observing and changing things from within. Folks were more unguarded. Dr. Edwards returns late in the documentary to explain this phenomenon far more eloquently than I have.

                      The directors and their four editors balance the right amount of news footage, sports highlights, talking heads and Ashe’s own words. This isn’t just about Ashe’s athletic and coaching achievements, though the footage of him methodically dismantling Jimmy Connors at Wimbledon—and the scenes of John McEnroe driving Coach Ashe crazy—will be catnip for tennis fans. We get time to hear Ashe say he envies McEnroe because, as a White man, he got the opportunity to vent his rage for public consumption. That luxury wouldn’t have existed for Arthur Ashe. We also see footage of his hero, Nelson Mandela, getting released and hear stories of his interaction with the tennis star afterwards. And we learn from his brother Johnnie that, in order to keep Arthur from being drafted due to a law about brothers not being able to serve simultaneously, Johnnie re-enlisted in the military after his tour in Vietnam was over.

                      By the time we get to Ashe’s AIDS-related activism, and the horrible way USA Today twisted his arm into revealing his diagnosis, “Citizen Ashe” has taken us on a complex, sometimes infuriating tour of its subject’s life. It begins with the birth of an athlete, then morphs into the creation of an activist. The transition is so subtle that you only realize it after the film ends. Fans of tennis and fascinating American lives will be equally satisfied.

                      Now playing in select theaters.

                      By: Odie Henderson
                      Posted: December 3, 2021, 2:47 pm

                      • Entertainer
                        Entertainer published a blog post Landscapers


                        In 2013, a shocking discovery was made in the yard of a nondescript flat in Mansfield, England. It was there that the authorities found the bodies of the parents of Susan Edwards and learned that the average housewife and her average husband had shot them, burying them in the backyard and then hidden their deaths for years. As the couple drained their savings, they even pretended that Susan’s parents were still alive, sending Christmas cards and telling people that the missing pair were just on vacation. How did two very normal people commit such a horrifying act? HBO’s “Landscapers,” starting Monday and running for four weeks, seeks to answer this question. Well, sorta. Or maybe it just suggests you shouldn't ask it in the first place. It’s a more experimental and playful piece of work than a traditional true crime drama, centering two phenomenal performances in a project that almost deconstructs the concept of narrative as much as serve as an explainer for murderers. You are unlikely to feel like you understand Susan and Chris Edwards after watching “Landscapers,” but maybe it’s impossible to ever really do so.

                        Writer Ed Sinclair and director Will Sharpe (“The Electrical Life of Louis Wain”) assemble “Landscapers” as almost a series of experiments in form regarding motive and investigation. After all, we don’t know a lot about the Edwards, even though they became the subject of U.K. headlines after the bodies were discovered and the trial became a public event. The wonderful Olivia Colman and David Thewlis play the couple, a pair who bonded over a love of movies, particularly the work of Gerard Depardieu, and they brilliantly ground the pair in mundane normalcy. Chris and Susan were the kind of people who would never raise red flags with their neighbors. And yet there were clearly dark things happening the Edwards house. Susan mentioned issues of abuse by her father from a young age. And the couple reportedly felt cheated financially.

                        It’s not a lot for a four-hour mini-series. And so Sinclair and Sharpe play with structure to fill it out, particularly in the third, and best, episode, in which an interrogation breaks the fourth wall and becomes almost a commentary on this kind of series existing in the first place. Colman and Thewlis travel with detectives from set to set, revealing behind-the-scenes equipment, breaking down what happened as the investigators get closer to the truth. It’s a riveting sequence that layers the artifice of filmmaking on the retelling of history that happens when a confession finally emerges. In the final episode, Sinclair and Sharpe employ another clever structure as Chris and Susan imagine their lives as characters in one of the Westerns that they loved. The kind of hero that Susan saw in Chris—someone who could save her from a miserable life—always wins at least the moral victory in those movies.

                        Despite these clever choices, “Landscapers” is primarily a performance piece. Colman, who is simply one of the best working, imbues Susan with a combination of vulnerability and righteous indignation. She didn’t do anything wrong. Chris didn’t do anything wrong. Her parents were the villains in this movie, of course. It’s a clever, graceful performance. And she’s matched by Thewlis, who could have turned Chris into a bumbling idiot, but the actor smartly focuses on his dynamic with Colman. It’s a stretch to say it’s a love story, but Thewlis gives it an emotional throughline that other actors would have missed.

                        The only real problem I have with “Landscapers” is a common one of the Prestige TV era—this would have been an amazing dramatic feature. Despite the clever structural changes, there’s just not quite enough meat on the bones for four hours of television. As good as it can be at times, premiering during awards and holiday season on Monday nights, it’s hard to believe that this won’t get demolished as more prestigious shows dominate the TV landscape.

                        Premieres on HBO on Monday, December 6th. Whole series screened for review.

                        By: Brian Tallerico
                        Posted: December 3, 2021, 2:47 pm

                        • Entertainer
                          Entertainer published a blog post Silent Night


                          “Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die”—a notion as ancient as the Bible itself—is the guiding premise of the holiday genre mash-up “Silent Night.” But while that sentiment seems gung-ho, the actual execution is more than a little shaky.

                          Writer/director Camille Griffin’s feature filmmaking debut is an ambitious but muddled mix of Christmas comedy and apocalyptic drama. Griffin has crafted a cautionary tale about climate change and tucked it inside a cozy, Richard Curtis-style British rom-com, starring a key figure of “Love Actually” in Keira Knightley. A giant, toxic cloud is sweeping across the planet, the result of irreparable, collective abuse and neglect. It’s expected to devour a motley assemblage of family and friends at a posh English country estate sometime after midnight, giving a whole new meaning to that ubiquitous Wham! earworm “Last Christmas.”

                          While that sounds potentially intriguing, “Silent Night” doesn’t reach the fizzy heights of the familiar comedies that served as inspiration. It’s never all that amusing, and the characters feel like paper-thin versions of the kind of charmers we see in such films. At the same time, Griffin’s movie rarely achieves the suspenseful, unsettling vibe she’s aiming for once the story takes a dark turn around the halfway point. Several actors among the strong ensemble have standout moments—especially Roman Griffin Davis, the filmmaker’s son, who made such an impression as the young star of “Jojo Rabbit.” But on the whole, these are barely-there characters, so it’s difficult to care whether they live or die—or even whether they will choose to live or die.

                          The day begins with the usual combination of cheer and dread as couples and families gather for a Christmas feast at the home of Knightley’s Nell, her husband, Simon (Matthew Goode), and their three kids; besides Roman Griffin Davis’ Art, Hardy and Gilby Griffin Davis play twins Hardy and Thomas. (Griffin’s husband, Ben Davis, a veteran cinematographer whose work includes “Eternals,” “Doctor Strange,” “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” and several Matthew Vaughn films, also contributed behind the scenes. Vaughn is among the film’s producers, so the project feels like a family-and-friends affair all around.) The first sign that something is amiss amid the usual hustle and bustle is the fact that all of these tween-age children get to swear with wild abandon while they’re getting ready. Art cuts his finger while slicing carrots, bleeding all over the vegetables in an ominous sign.

                          Then Nell’s preening sister, Sandra (Annabelle Wallis), arrives in a red-sequined, body-hugging stunner of a gown, complete with sparkly heels she bought with the money meant as college fund for prissy daughter Kitty (Davida McKenzie). Then again, everyone is overdressed, with Simon and the twins in tuxes, contributing to the vibe that something’s just a bit off. Also among the group are Sandra’s dull husband (Rufus Jones), as well as physician James (Sope Dirisu), the one who got away from when they all attended school together, and James’ much younger girlfriend, Sophie (Lily-Rose Depp). And there’s brash Bella (Lucy Punch) and her girlfriend, Alex (Kirby Howell-Baptiste), who watches and takes it all in as the night unravels.

                          Relatable humor comes from the awkwardness of these people trying to make small talk although they only see each other once a year, and these early scenes in which “Silent Night” plays like an agreeable, light farce—albeit with an undercurrent of menace—are the film’s strongest. The threat of impending doom keeps creeping into their forced joy, as in the gifts wrapped tidily in newspaper with headlines warning of global destruction. “Silent Night” ultimately becomes a crucible of who all these people really are as they relive old memories and rehash old regrets, but who they are turns out to be not all that interesting.

                          As the story progresses, Griffin swings between her initial comic instincts and a more dire tone in ways that feel ungainly. A melodramatic streak emerges, especially as the characters debate whether to take government-issued “Exit” pills to end it all peacefully or wait for the catastrophic effects of the poison to wash over them and see what happens. She reveals a gruesome discovery and smothers it with portentous music, but also shows the characters dancing around the living room to peppy songs like the theme from “Fame” (although, distractingly, it’s a cover of Irene Cara’s anthem).

                          Why is everyone waiting around to die? Why hasn’t anyone taken active, concrete steps to protect themselves and their loved ones? These are the kinds of questions you might be pondering, rather than feeling engrossed, as you wait for the ultimately problematic conclusion which raises even more questions. Knightley does harried well and Howell-Baptiste conveys a lot of meaning with just a slight side-eye, but Roman Griffin Davis emerges as the compelling voice of reason. By then, it might be too late—for these characters, and for “Silent Night” as a whole.

                          Now playing in theaters and streaming exclusively on AMC+. 

                          By: Christy Lemire
                          Posted: December 3, 2021, 2:47 pm

                          • Entertainer
                            Entertainer published a blog post Encounter


                            Riz Ahmed kicks off his performance in this new film co-written and directed by Michael Pearce in high trauma mode. In a motel room in which the wallpaper seems to be sweating itself off, he kills gnarly looking bugs, conducts arcane research, sprays himself down with insect repellent. Who can blame him? A montage during the opening credits has shown us an alien invasion commandeered by mutated versions of our invertebrate buddies. Ahmed’s character, Malik, is one of the few left on earth uninfected by the now-parasitical creatures who are taking control of the human population.

                            It stands to reason, especially in movie terms, that Malik has to protect his family, right? But his family isn’t the unit he wants it to be. His two sons, Jay and Bobby, 10 and less-than-ten respectively, live on a farm with their mom Piya and her new partner Dylan. Jay and Bobby can’t stand Dylan. Jay in particular is captivated by his real dad’s letters, which refer to his secret missions as a world-saving soldier.

                            So when Malik comes into the boys’ bedroom in the wee small hours of the morning and proposes a race to see which of them can make it to Malik’s car first, they’re eager to participate. Malik is briefly relieved to have forcibly taken custody of his kids. The better to protect them from the alien threat.

                            But let’s hold on a moment. Even if Malik is doing the right thing, even if he’s truly a hero, his erratic behavior is so ticcy, so jumpy, so impulsive, so flecked with hatefulness, that it doesn’t just raise a red flag. The guy’s a whole damn color guard.

                            For a while Pearce does a very clever balancing act, taking everyday unpleasantries and grotesqueries of life and exaggerating them just so. Jay, who himself enjoys drawing sci-fi monsters, proves especially susceptible to Malik’s visions—even before Malik has fully articulated them to his older kid. As car issues and other troubles crop up, Malik grows more unraveled, and soon the forces of the law, who’ve taken on Malik’s kind parole officer as an adjunct, are pursuing the trio.

                            Ahmed’s performance has a lot of skill and conviction fueling it. And the rest of the cast is splendid. Lucian-River Chauhan and Aditya Geddada, who play Jay and Bobby, are way above-average child actors. Rory Cochrane is marvelously terse as a pessimistic fed, and Octavia Spencer has warmth to spare as Malik’s only friend.

                            But Pearce eventually overplays his hand. A sequence in which Malik knocks out a shotgun-toting ‘Murican who just happens to be a dead ringer for Steve Bannon is only the beginning of a bad patch. The MAGA man’s MAGA son gets out their automatic weapons and go a-huntin’, and the movie’s sociopolitical waters are roiled and muddied. And the film finally devolves into a species of hostage porn, with Ahmed’s character so stretched that he brings to mind the unfortunate adage about how just because you’re mentally ill it doesn’t mean you’re not being a you-know-what. And of course you know that your exasperation is being summoned for the sole purpose of forcing you to put that emotional toothpaste back in the tube. It’s dishonest, showy filmmaking. 

                            Now playing in select theaters and available on Amazon Prime on December 10th.

                            By: Glenn Kenny
                            Posted: December 3, 2021, 2:47 pm

                            • Entertainer
                              Entertainer published a blog post Flee


                              The argument could be made that all national borders are arbitrary. People have fought over them, and people have died for them, but—who made them? The power to concoct a line that keeps some inside and others outside is rare and rarified, and the inclusion vs. exclusion that is established by that geography has in turn shaped the world. A country can be a home, and a home can be erased, and the aching, lovely “Flee” trafficks in the space between belonging and wandering. 

                              Evocatively animated in a style that is visually sparse but emotionally vibrant, with a strong sense of motion and interiority, “Flee” is written and directed by filmmaker Jonas Poher Rasmussen. As a teen growing up in Copenhagen, Denmark, Rasmussen became friends with a similarly aged Afghan refugee named Amin. Amin had fled Afghanistan after the Mujahideen grew more powerful during the First Afghan Civil War of the 1980s and 1990s, and arrived in Copenhagen alone. The two became friends, staying in touch as Rasmussen pursued filmmaking and as Amin pursued his doctoral degree. When they reconnect for the documentary “Flee,” it’s as adults ready to look back upon the past with a mixture of honesty, wistfulness, and resignation (from Amin) and curiosity and patience (Rasmussen). “This is a true story,” an intertitle states at the beginning, and the film honors the weight of that statement with an engrossing story that is as unflinching as it is—through a tremendous amount of human will—hopeful. 

                              "Flee"'s setup is straightforward, with Rasmussen guiding Amin forward in conversation, but the approach is never simplistic. The men’s friendship and familiarity with each other allows for a level of intimate expression that gives the film its simultaneous specificity and approachability. Scraps of memories are sometimes all we have of the people we loved and lost, and Amin compiles them together to speak about his deep bond with his family, his struggle to reconcile his sexuality with his conservative cultural background, and the trauma of being stateless. Each of his accounts starts the same way, with an animated version of Amin—brown-skinned, close-shaved, with a beard, a gold chain, and a world-weary look—laying down on a couch, staring ahead, and gazing directly toward us. That perspective of Amin looking up and us looking down creates a balance in which we’re an active participant, and as Amin slides into memory and transforms into a younger version of himself, we go too. (There are many reasons to pair “Flee” with this year’s other refugee-focused film “Limbo,” and their shared experimentation with the liminal quality of time is a primary one.) 

                              Back to Afghanistan, where Amin’s happy childhood (flying kites with one of his brothers, spending time in the kitchen with his mother) is upended by civil war and by his father’s disappearance after being taken by the Mujahideen. The outlines of grey collapsing buildings and beige running civilians shift and melt while resistance fighters appear as solidly black, scratchily-shaded-in forms, both in contrast to Amin’s brightly dressed relatives and cozily decorated family home. To Russia, where Amin spent dreary, tedious years as a teenager: The color palette desaturated, the movement in these characters diminished, their facial expressions dampened. Back to present-day Copenhagen, where Amin’s boyfriend Kasper hits the walls and boundaries Amin has built around himself. And, slowly, to another version of Amin’s past that Rasmussen, through gently guiding questions, steadily unravels. “I just need to get one thing straight,” Rasmussen asks, and the pause he takes in between that statement and his following query is a whole world of poised possibility. 

                              Where “Flee” then goes reveals a number of bleak truths about the gap between the “first” and “third” worlds and about the desperate measures people will risk for the chance at a “better” life. Refreshingly, “Flee” also makes space to consider what “better” means and by whose standards we assign that designation. What does living one’s truth matter if we’re all alone in the process? What vulnerability can we choose to allow ourselves, and what grace? A number of animated standout scenes drive these ideas home: a harried walk through a forest, its trees so tall they infringe upon the night sky; a claustrophobic, vertigo-inducing scene in a container truck, our perspective spinning around to survey the tight quarters; a meeting between a boat of refugees and a boat of tourists that is harrowing and heartbreaking in the contrasting expressions on these people’s faces. When “Flee” slips from animation to live action, it’s Rasmussen’s reminder of the reality of this story, and when he includes the arguments between himself and Amin about the direction of the documentary, that’s reality, too. 

                              “We miscommunicate,” Amin says of a conversation he had in his adolescence with an Iranian man speaking Farsi while he, an Afghan, spoke Dari, but that statement is broader than two people and two languages. What are all the ways we fail to, or refuse to, understand another person? How does that decay into violence, into dehumanization, into negligence, into war? And when those gaps are fixed, what joy, what acceptance, and what love can be found? “Flee” asks those questions and then listens to their answers with open ears, open eyes, and an open heart, and the documentary is one of this year’s best. 

                              Now playing in select theaters, with an expansion planned in January 2022.

                              By: Roxana Hadadi
                              Posted: December 3, 2021, 2:48 pm