Watch movies online THE CHESTNUT MAN: SEASON 1 (2021)
By now, we're all familiar with the trope in movie and TV trailers that use the creepy children's choir cover of popular music to represent an ominous tide. There's a reason why many projects simultaneously turn to familiar and unfamiliar music as shortcuts to importance. It's vague, it can be unsettling, and it's (well, it used to be) a sign that what's being up around the corner is something that can be streaked with expectations
over the past decade in the latter world. That "creep" strategy doesn't show up in marketing materials for "The Chestnut Man," but netflix's own show, is nearing the end of the first episode of its six-episode season. A group of Danish schoolchildren gathered to sing a lullaby about chestnuts — the same sign the killers left on the scene as their de facto calling cards— if this wasp wasn't enough, the raw chestnuts still in its outer green casing falling from a tree
, it's the kind of on-the-no-symbolic connection you'd expect to find in a magical page-turner — a driven, twisted crime novel delivered straight from the bestselling shelves of airport bookstores. "Chestnut Man". There's a similar foundation co-created by Søren Sveistrup, whose 2018 novel of the same name takes place after he created the original Danish version of "The Killing" a decade ago, but instead of reflecting the pedigree of someone whose previous TV work made good use of the episodic narrative style, Watch movies online

"The Chestnut Man" feels like an attempt not to adapt his own book, the show's opening sequence in 1987 could be labeled as a "prologue" as well. Walking through heinous and bloody crime scenes punctuated by another violent act to add to the pile that will continue to grow, "The Chestnut Man" jumps ahead, following a pair of detectives, Naia Thulin (Danica Curcic) and Mark Hess (Mikkel Boe Følsgaard), as they are into the current homicide investigation. One of the only clues? A tiny chestnut doll left behind instead of a missing organ (if that basic, stick-shaped figure reminiscent of lost innocence has you thinking "I gave you all the clues," it makes sense that Sveistrup is a screenwriter credited in "The Snowman"), Netflix is no stranger to the crime-novel pipeline to TV. Having carved out a wing, an entire list devoted to Harlan Coben's story, "The Chestnut Man" may be on that same spectrum, but to its credit there's certainly more paranoia here, in the same way that Sveistrup would have to set all these places on the page — weather weather -worn farmhouses, wooden panel house interiors, apartment buildings with mosaic-like façades, public buildings with surprisingly reflective hallways. It's nowhere near the rigor of something like "The Investigation," which is a vastly different spin on gathering information about suspected deaths. But it shares a similar sobering bleakness as Thulin and Hess parse old evidence notes and see important details previously ignored, having a similar sense of pie-beating, some revelations that almost directly map to the rhythm of the chapter-ending thrill. There are flashbacks that are awkwardly placed, deliberately withheld until the inside important information is distorted rather than contextualized. Thulin and Hess follow one or two less fruitful leaders, but their trajectory of progress is designed only to move forward, and those chestnuts. It's a stagStripping the waves that run through every last inch of the show is key to understanding both the method and the motivation. Even past the point where it seems excessive, chestnuts are present in "The Chestnut Man" in the same way that Sveistrup manages to get away with relentless repetition on the page. If there are no shortcuts, images that can convey information with unstable insertions (of which there are many here). Detective novels can put you in the minds of Thulin or Hess or government miner Rosa Hartung (Iben Dorner), whose own unspeakable family horrors are tied to the fate of others. When the moving parts here become a little clearer, and the mess of threads loosens up in a fairly obvious fashion, it feels like a missed opportunity to let a more talented actor do their own heavy lifting. Rosa and husband Sten (Esben Dalgard; Andersen) Trapped in the land of grief, and the Thulin-Hess combo is locked in the same monomanial fidelity as the show as a whole, over six episodes, "The Chestnut Man" takes plenty of opportunity to invoke the nature of cross-generational trauma and the associated burdens that both parents and children feel, but with a singular focus on drawing connections between the confusion of broken and repaired minds, there's no room for anything but declaring that they exist, so the combination of artistic veneer and exaggerated cruel mystery below becomes the biggest hook, as well as what makes the series couldn't be anything more than an ending that some viewers with knowledge of Danish film and TV might be able to sniff a little sooner. It's shorter than that, mostly catastrophic, because the ending plays out like an obligation. For stories involving messy corpses, haunting pools of blood, and the weaponization of childhood arts and crafts projects, there's a neatness for everything that feels weird with the storybook

THE CHESTNUT MAN: SEASON 1 (2021)
Up to now, we're all familiar with the trope in movie and TV trailers that use the eerie children's choir cover of popular music to represent an ominous tide. There's a reason why many projects simultaneously turn to familiar and unfamiliar music as shortcuts to importance. It's vague, it can be unsettling, and it's (well, it used to be) a sign that what's being up around the corner is something that can be streaked with expectations
over the past decade in the latter world. That "creep" strategy doesn't show up in marketing materials for "The Chestnut Man," but netflix's own show, is nearing the end of the first episode of its six-episode season. A group of Danish schoolchildren gathered to sing a lullaby about chestnuts — the same sign the killers left on the scene as their de facto calling cards— as if this wasp wasn't enough, the raw chestnuts still in its outer green casing falling from a tree
, it's the kind of on-the-no-symbolic connection you'd expect to find in a magical page-turner — a driven, twisted crime novel delivered straight from the bestselling shelves of airport bookstores. "Chestnut Man". There's a similar foundation co-created by Søren Sveistrup, whose 2018 novel of the same name emerged after he created the original Danish version of "The Killing" a decade ago, but instead of reflecting the pedigree of someone whose previous TV work made good use of the episodic narrative style, "The Chestnut Man" feels like an attempt not to adapt much of his own book, the show's opening sequence in 1999.987 may also be listed as a "prologue". Walking through heinous and bloody crime scenes punctuated by another violent act to add to the pile that will continue to grow, "The Chestnut Man" jumps ahead, following a pair of detectives, Naia Thulin (Danica Curcic) and Mark Hess (Mikkel Boe Følsgaard), as they are drawn into the current homicide investigation. One of the only clues? A tiny chestnut doll left behind instead of a missing organ (if that basic, stick-shaped figure reminiscent of lost innocence has you thinking "I gave you all the clues," it makes sense that Sveistrup is a screenwriter credited in "The Snowman"), Netflix is no stranger to the crime-novel pipeline to TV. Having carved out a wing, an entire list devoted to Harlan Coben's story, "The Chestnut Man" may be on that same spectrum, but to its credit there's certainly more paranoia here, in the same way that Sveistrup would have to set all these places on the page — weather-worn farmhouses, wooden panel house interiors, apartment buildings with mosaic-like façades, public buildings with surprisingly reflective hallways. It's nowhere near the rigor of something like "The Investigation," which is a vastly different spin on gathering information about suspected deaths. But it shares a similar sobering bleakness as Thulin and Hess parse old evidence notes and see important details previously ignored, having a similar sense of pie-beating, some revelations that almost directly map to the rhythm of the chapter-ending thrill. There are flashbacks that are awkwardly placed, deliberately withheld until the inside important information is distorted rather than contextualized. Thulin and Hess follow one or two less fruitful leaders, but their trajectory of progress is designed only to move forward, and those chestnuts. It's the ripples that run through every last inch of the show, the key to understanding both the method and the motivation. Even past the point where it seems excessive, chestnuts are present in "The Chestnut Man" in the same way that Sveistrup manages to get away with relentless repetition on the page. If there are no shortcuts, images that can convey information with unstable insertions (of which there are many here). Detective novels can put you in the minds of Thulin or Hess or government miner Rosa Hartung (Iben Dorner), whose own unspeakable family horrors are tied to the fate of others. When the moving parts here become a little clearer, and the mess of threads loosens up in a fairly obvious fashion, it feels like a missed opportunity to let a more talented actor do their own heavy lifting. Rosa and husband Sten (Esben Dalgard; Andersen) ดูหนัง hd