Filmmaking is also a question of trust between the director and the actors.

Some work with the same people over and over again over the years, other film teams get into such conflicts during shooting that joint appearances afterwards are difficult for everyone to bear.

On Monday you could watch both at the Venice Film Festival.

Irish director Martin McDonagh, for example, falls into the former category.

Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson appear again in his competition entry “The Banshees of Inisherin”.

In McDonagh's first feature film, To See and Die in Bruges (2008), they played two hit men on the run who were stranded in Bruges, Belgium, this time McDonagh sends them back to 1923's civil war in Ireland.

Maria Wiesner

Editor in the “Society & Style” department.

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But Padraic (Colin Farrell) and Colm (Brendan Gleeson) hardly notice anything.

You live on a small island from which you can only see the Irish coast in the distance.

Both men were best friends, going to the pub across the green fields every day until one day Colm wanted nothing to do with Padraic anymore.

"Maybe he just doesn't like you anymore," Padraic's sister says teasingly.

At the same time, she knows in her heart the real reason for Colm's upset: the island may look idyllic (some viewers rave about booking one of the cottages for their next holiday immediately), but time passes slowly, the evenings are lonely, and anyone who longs for intellectual exchange will only find talks about the nature of the neighbor's cow dung in the pub.

McDonagh directs "The Banshees of Inisherin" with dark humor that runs through much of the dialogue.

Gleeson argues with the vicar about sin and forgiveness in the confessional, Farrell challenges the gossiping shopwife with "news" about the village constable beating up his son, and in the pub old Irish folk discover that in times of civil war one can no longer knows whose side you are actually on: "It was easier when we were still together against the British." In all these sharp words lie no less sharp observations about the constraints of tradition, the corruption of those in power and the loneliness of those souls who crave education, art and beauty.

Olivia Wilde's "Don't Worry Darling" is also about loneliness and escaping a predetermined life.

The American director's new film will be shown out of competition at the Lido, but it has already caused the biggest murmurs in the industry press over the past few days, because Wilde's film shoot seems to be one of those at the end of which the actors and director no longer want to talk to each other .

It's unclear whether the rumors that have been shared on social media for weeks are clever publicity tactics or actually contain an element of truth.

The fact is: the leading actress Florence Pugh did not travel to the press conference, but she did not want to miss the opportunity to greet the fans on the red carpet on the evening of the premiere.

Director Olivia Wilde and her leading actor Harry Styles,

The more important question is, how good is the film?

Wilde has Pugh and Styles perform in a 1950's paradise.

She in immaculate petticoat dresses, him in suits with narrow ties.

When he drives to work from the terraced housing estate on the edge of the desert in the morning, she begins to clean the house, has drinks by the pool with other housewives, and in the evening prepares elaborate dinners.

There is only one rule: do not leave the safety of the settlement.

Only one woman in the neighborhood dared to do this and has been plagued by psychosis ever since.

It is the beginning of cracks that tear through the perfect idyll.

Wilde knows what she has in her leading lady, there are few moments in those 123 minutes when Pugh is not in the picture.

Styles plays almost a supporting role alongside her, which the former "One Direction" singer performs most convincingly when he has to dance for a scene on stage.

Pugh's face, on the other hand, first speaks of naïve conviction, even joy at her role as an obedient housewife, then a shadow falls over her eyes as her character begins to ask more and more questions.

Wilde's paranoia skilfully propels him across the audio level, there are squeaks and crunches as the housewife searches for answers and is sucked into a whirlpool of memories.

Some of these images only appear for a few seconds, barely perceptible consciously.

The anxiety of the psycho-horror increases when nobody wants to listen to the woman, the men dismiss her concerns as "hysteria" and sing her a song of praise for the ideal world with which she is supposed to be content.

Wilde's film thus becomes a commentary on the current situation of women's rights in America.