Nothing around here nothing around there

They report on the complicity and overflowing love with which those attending the Cannes festival have received Tom Cruise and his ardent plea in favor of movie theaters, his reasoned refusal to make films destined for platforms, exclusive private consumption and homemade (although I also see many people without Martian appearance who watch movies on their mobiles) of a permanent miracle that brought viewers together in dark rooms, in what was their natural and ancestral space.

He says that he, camouflaged with a cap, continues to go to the temple of dreams, watching premieres (he does not clarify if he also chews popcorn), surrounded by strangers.

And that is why he will soon premiere in theaters his latest and luxurious whim:

.

I'm sure the box office won't let you down.

I hope it is accompanied by quality.

My memory of the first

almost doesn't exist or I associate it with something as vacuous as it is predictable.

Cruise was catapulted to absolute and lasting stardom.

You have to be worth it.

And to know the business unbeatably, to have no doubts about what the general public wants to see.

And it is clear what is the material with which Hollywood intends to survive, or live like the gods, in the present and in a future that is expected to be as long as it is tedious.

Its infinite media and its

are focused almost exclusively on the Marvel factory and similar cinema, as cumbersome as it is hollow, without the need for those expendable little things called scripts, with the exclusive role of noise and special effects.

They tell me that the premiere that has accumulated the most viewers in Spain, and I imagine that in theaters anywhere, is

.

And because I'm in this weird profession of writing and talking about movies, I feel compelled to bear witness to what the public loves.

No surprise.

More of the same.

Witches and monsters that breathe fire through their mouths.

Mix of nightmare and reality.

Nonsense with pretensions of transcendence.

And in the midst of so much frenzy, of a torrent of clonic images, of music that doesn't stop and that can leave you deaf, I discover that I can stay fried.

That sleepiness is propitiated by old age, but also by excessive boredom.

I do not know what is the outcome of this nonsense with such success.

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Tom Cruise, the prophet of cinema in theaters: "I will never release on platforms"

And from there I moved on to a film with the auteur cinema label.

Apparently it is endorsed because it was exhibited at the last Berlin festival.

If I were to tell you the huge number of insufferable nothings that I have swallowed for 35 years chronicling the most distinguished festivals.

This one is titled

.

The title is promising.

It is also the directorial debut of Graham Moore, screenwriter of the notable

.

The initial setting is a Chicago tailor shop, run by an enigmatic English tailor.

The setting does not change throughout the footage.

That place is used for gangster dealings.

They are at odds with each other, there are betrayals, and the FBI has bugged the place.

Everything sounds theatrical to me and I experiment with pretensions.

I confess my ignorance of the former and the experiments almost always bore me.

And as with the previous Marvel product, I fall asleep again.

Nothing they tell me matters in the least.

They aspire to bring people back to theaters.

The problem is supply.

Mediocrity and scraps prevail.

The moderately educated cinematographic palates have it raw to enjoy the possible or pandemic billboard.

The mafia tailor

Direction:

Graham Moore.

Cast:

Mark Rylance, Zoey Deutch, Dylan O'Brien, Johnny Flynn, Nikki Amuka-Bird.

Genre

: Drama.

Duration

: 106 minutes.

Premiere

: May 20.

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