AT Roar, a new series from Apple TV+, is a unique vision of gender, identity, and contemporary loneliness. There is also a cynical, morbid and slightly unsettling undercurrent to women’s perceptions. At the same time, the series is a journey through all sorts of extravagant experiences that define a certain feeling of modern man. Based on a collection of short stories by writer Cecilia Ahern, the chapters range from deep emotional pain to questions about female sexuality today.
Does he do it with all the skill that one would expect from such ambition? Yes and no. And especially the problem with the show’s version of modern emotions is trying to split the idea into two premises. Who are we when no one is looking at us? What happens in the domestic sphere with our fears and traumas? These are the difficult questions the series raises in gritty scenes, and are some of the most heartbreaking stories of the year on any streaming show. But not only does he not have time to answer them, but also several chapters seem to float in a kind of plot disunity. And this despite the fact that each of them creates a world strong enough to function separately and at the same time create its own scenario.
It was the year Apple TV+ lifted the idea of emotion and modern life from its most complex layers. Separationanother seasonal hit of the platform, dedicated to the fear of losing identity and control over the system. WeCrashed with the landscape of fraud at a time when greed is a form of success. So that Roar it seems that he is going deep into this other place of a thousand years of life. Personal destruction, dehumanization and the right to be heard. Or, in any case, to contemplate from a certain generosity and even kindness.
All in addition, from a special point of view of the feminine. There’s a painful journey Roar from the idea of exclusion. Almost all of his characters are wounded by loneliness, separated, excluded, exiled. D Roar builds the scenario of this fragmentation of everyday life in the perspective of invisible suffering. We all carry the fear of rejection under our skin in one way or another. Dehumanization as an emblem. D Roar tries to analyze the idea from a powerful plot point of view, which most of the time fails.
Loneliness Roar on Apple TV+
Roar It raises an idea of the life of today’s woman, but in fact it is much broader than a specific vision of the modern world. And all because he explores the universal through small fragments of stories put together like a tricky puzzle. It’s no doubt a much more difficult risk when the show seems to focus on the female experience. But in fact the argument is cautiously suggesting that emotions are part of a layer that is more flexible and human than the obvious one.
first story The woman who disappeared starring Issa Rae, it’s an almost dark landscape about how culture creates isolation. Ray maintains a character that ranges from supposed success to failure, all amidst subtle narrative characters. But the chapter falters when it tries to combine fear and defeat in aspects less careful than spiritual failure.
Roar It’s not an easy series to define, and as its chapters progress, the plot and visual audacity become more apparent.
The same thing happens in the fourth episode called The woman who found bite marks on her skin, focused on invisible emotional pain. The brilliant Cynthia Erivo analyzes the idea of fear, rage and grief with overwhelming brutality. The screenplay, written by Liz Flahive and Carly Mensch, shows the vulnerability of modern loneliness. But at the same time, it reflects and opens the space for the connection of rootlessness – that which pulls out success and triumph – with scenes of cold honesty. Erivo creates a character with two faces, two spaces, two places, who analyzes personal time after a breakup.
But it’s a chapter called The woman who ate the picturesin which versatility Roar this is much more obvious than in the rest of the anthology. Starring a tense and depressed Nicole Kidman, the connection between memory and love manifests itself as nostalgia. A character who cares about his mother’s agonizing old age eventually finds in the loneliness of dementia a reason to reflect on his life. And that’s when the series makes amazing visual decisions to show the pain that the argument holds. The entire chapter – with a stunning visual and narrative tone – defines the beauty and bleakness of the series. And despite being the third episode, it best captures the show’s intent to unlock the mysteries of emotion.
A woman for every horror and beauty
Roar It’s not an easy series to define, and as its chapters progress, the plot and visual audacity become more apparent. From unclassifiable rebellion to romance The woman fed by the duck even painful beauty in The Girl Who Loved Horses. Each story is connected to each other and becomes the edge of one world. Or at least that’s the feeling that both the visuals and the story give. And also the fact that each episode is only thirty minutes long.
What does it mean to be a woman today? This is the question he promised to answer. Roar. But in fact, it covers – and not always skillfully – so many layers that in the end it becomes almost confusing. However, with more positives than negatives, the series is of considerable interest on abstract themes. A few that rarely delve into mainstream stories. And perhaps it is this innovation that gives the anthology its curious and enduring beauty.
Source: Hiper Textual
