Bernardo Bertolucci has long fed off a cinephilia he appears to despise.
Considered as a subset of the road movie, the post-Holocaust, return-to-Poland documentary has been a dismayingly static genre. Most of these films are journeys in only the physical sense.
About a third of the way through the long, long flashback that is Crimson Gold, someone mentions that the main character, Hussein, needs to work outdoors because of his claustrophobia.
An indispensable work of art, especially at
this moment in our history, Errol Morris's new documentary declares
its theme before you even step into the theater. The Fog of
In one of his sunnier moods, Jean-Luc Godard might have tacked onto The Last Samurai the subtitle une étrange aventure de Tom Cruise.
To the fleet of symbolic vehicles currently cruising the screen--their number includes the "Pussy Wagon" that Uma Thurman (in Kill Bill) coldly claims as her own--we may now add Benicio De
The lights go down in the courtroom, a 16-millimeter projector shoots
out its beam, and into the trial blazes evidence of an unprecedented
nature: not a report of criminal events but the crime
Ghosts are notorious for getting stuck in time. Having lost track of the
ongoing world, they will revisit certain hours as obsessively as they
haunt a fatal spot.
Clint Eastwood's Mystic River, which opened this year's New York
Film Festival on a somber but resonant note, is perhaps the finest
western ever to be set in South Boston.
The setting is a one-room schoolhouse, which is momentarily unoccupied
except for a pair of turtles.