Cebalord Very best movie i ever watch

Taha Avalos The best films of this genre always show a path and provide a takeaway for being a better person.

Philippa All of these films share one commonality, that being a kind of emotional center that humanizes a cast of monsters.

Darin One of the film's great tricks is that, for a time, you think it will go down a rabbit hole of unrealistic glorification.

Rodolphe Fleury This film if you can even call it is an insult to the work and life of Christopher Isherwood, it's pompous, vulgar and ugly where Isherwood work was subtle, classy, distinguish but still modern and decadent . The film takes liberty with his life and history that is odious, the acting except for Inoggen Peotts is disastrous, that Guy from Dr Who is trying hard to be an English gentlemen, but he's just excruciatingly irritating to the point you want to slap him in the face, he's cocky and pedantic something Isherwood was certainly not. The camera work is pretty ugly, interesting angles sometimes, but the grain of the photography is horrible The mise en scene is utterly disgusting and the narrative is insulting to the intelligence of the spectator, you don't need to underline everything in red, we got the message the first time. Next time someone does a film on Isherwood please watch A Single Man, interviews of the man himself, and Cabaret This so UN clever and clearly cheaply made , made for people with a low QI whose only idea of homosexuality is GAY and Comptons in Soho, pathetic

hughman55 In the summer of 2010 I found myself on a transatlantic flight with a book, "Christopher and His Kind" and, coincidentally, a list of inflight movies that included, "Cabaret". I had never seen the film nor heard of the book. I still don't recall how I ended up with it on that flight. I do recall turning to my husband halfway through the book and saying these words, "Holy crap. I wish I knew how to write a screenplay. This book would make an amazing film." It still would.Of all the failings of this film, and the downfall of every bad film, it is the weak screenplay that doomed it. It is trivial. And the source material, the novel, is anything but trivial. The screenplay is a grocery list of the parade of horribles that led to WWII. We already know them and half of the measly 87 minutes of this film did not need to be taken up by laying them out for the billionth time; and in the most hackneyed ways. You've got the Chrystal Nacht, the Swaztika banners, the good boy turned brownshirt, even the camera shot framing the main character through the Star of David painted onto a Jewish shop window. No imagination anywhere. And that brings us to the second worst failing of this film, it's star, Matt Smith. His Christopher Isherwood is little more than a potted plant with either a winsome or surprised look on his face that alternates A, B, A, B, throughout. No one who writes as well, or lived as interesting a life, as Christopher Isherwood could ever be so dull. The actual facts of Isherwood's life during this period is riveting. This screenplay, and it's lead actor, aren't. I would not recommend this film to anyone but it would be unfair not to mention here that there were several excellent performances in the supporting cast. Imogen Poots (what a name...) as Jean Ross was everything that Sally Bowles was, and Liza Minnell (according to Isherwood himself) wasn't: half talented and full of unearned confidence. Lindsay Duncan as Isherwood's mother was cold comfort, which is to say, no comfort. Her damp love did nothing for her sons both of whom fled from her when they were able. Pipp Carter with very little screen time as Wysten Auden, made a strong impression as Isherwood's best friend; and depressed, religiously tortured, brooding, confidant. But it was an interesting and bizarre performance by Perry Milward, as Christopher's younger brother, that stood out most. The character, Richard Isherwood, is odd. And as a viewer you're not quite sure why. He knows he on the outside looking in, and that is possibly the source of his gentle humanity, even if he is slightly "off". Milward gives a quirky, and interesting, performance that does more to define the dysfunctional family dynamics than his lines ever intended. Unfortunately, for this film, a few good performances in the supporting cast can't save it from a shallow understanding of the story by the screenwriter and a listless performance by the title character. Where would "Cabaret" be if Liza Minnelli were bad. Nowhere. If you are interested in this story read the book and watch "Cabaret". My only regret is that I didn't discover either of them until forty years after they came into existence. They are as relevant today as they were when they were made. This film won't be around four minutes from now.

meaninglessbark This is a nicely constructed period piece which is completely watchable but nothing more than what you're probably expecting.(I know little of Isherwood but just from the description of the story I imagined how the film would be and I was exactly right.)Casting Smith as Isherwood wasn't such a great move, especially if you watch Doctor Who. Smith's performance in this film isn't as manic and heroic as his work in Doctor Who, and his acting here is fine. But he still constantly reminded me of Doctor Who, especially as Doctor Who and Christopher Isherwood wear very similar clothes and have a similar haircut. And since Doctor Who travels in time, seeing him in 1930s England and Berlin seemed entirely appropriate. So, unfortunately, this film felt a lot like it could have been titled Doctor Who Takes a Gay Holiday. Which makes Christopher and His Kind an ideal film if you're a Doctor Who fan who has always wanted to see the Doctor be as flexible with love and sex as he is with time and space.

reeceindie Inspired by Christopher Isherwood's 1976 autobiography of the same name Christopher and his Kind accomplishes it's greatest challenge in depicting the events and sights that would eventually inspire 1972's Cabaret, without actually imitating or reiterating the iconic Oscar-winner. BBC2's first-class feature-length dramatisation of Isherwood's formative years brilliantly presents the characters, proceedings, and atmosphere of 'thirties Berlin in embryonic form. The wonderfully witty screenplay smartly focuses on the Isherwoods' first travels to Berlin in 1931 and 1933, where both the romanticised sexual freedoms and the threat of fascism are seamlessly integrated into this snapshot of the inter-war years. Told retrospectively from an aging Isherwood, the film begins with the barely-published author taking the train to Berlin, at the urging of friend, WH Auden. Wisely, Isherwood is never portrayed as just a writer or observer, only briefly seen at the typewriter, and the film overcomes many of the obstacles in creating dramas based on writers to the extent that the publication of Isherwood's book 'Sally Bowles' remains just a passing reference, and receives little fanfare. Matt Smith is effortlessly perfect in the role of Isherwood displaying the ease with which Isherwood integrates himself into the sexual underground and 'divine decadence' of the club scene. If it was Smith's hope that this performance would inspire audiences to temporarily forget about his other BBC work then he has surely succeeded. Smith is perfectly accompanied by Toby Jones, as his rough-trade-loving neighbour and an impeccable Lindsey Duncan as his thoroughly British mother. Imogen Poots occupies the most difficult role as the proto-Sally Bowles, Jean Ross, all green fingernails and lousy torch-songs, a gift for any actress. Isherwood leaves Germany when it becomes clear that to stay would be fatal and unsuccessfully attempts to bring his German boyfriend back to Britain. The film closes with a brief post-war reunion between the two former lovers, and the difference between the two is made clear. Heinz, his German lover, is now married with a child and Christopher, as we know, is on the verge of being embraced by a burgeoning gay movement and meeting the man with whom he'll spend the rest of his life.