What started in 1994 as a two-day, modestly attended, parochially English affair has, in the decades following, tripled in length, welcomes more than ten times the number of visitors, and is now a tent-pole event on the international documentary industry calendar.
As with Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah, another masterpiece dedicated to present-day witnessing, to chasing the ghosts of atrocity across the living landscape of our ruined humanity, it’s important not to overlook the extraordinary artistry that allows for such extra-cinematic effects.
Director Matías Piñeiro browses the aisles of a Greenwich Village bookstore with host Eric Hynes to talk about adaptation as an art of taking liberties, the beauty of mess, and his ongoing relationship with William Shakespeare, whose plays have inspired many of his films, including his latest, The Princess of France.
Rather than pursue an argument against the ascendancy of widescreen TV, or against television’s 21st-century golden age, I’d instead like to direct your attention to a time when ambitious television shows didn’t have recourse to the widescreen mode, distinguishing themselves within the 4:3 standard.
In this Reverse Shot Talkie, host Eric Hynes and director Steve James emulate an episode of At the Movies to pay tribute to its hosts, Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert; Ebert's writing legacy; and James's documentary about Ebert, Life Itself.
As crucial as it is to reclaim Losing Ground as a vital, vibrant, retroactively canonical independent film by an African American female director—made when African American female directors were even scarcer than they are now—it’s no less crucial to view Collins’s film on its own defiantly individualistic terms.
In this Reverse Shot Talkie, host Eric Hynes takes French actor-director Mathieu Amalric up to Manhattan's High Line to talk about his new film, The Blue Room (out now from Sundance Selects), which is based on the steamy 1964 crime novel by Georges Simenon.
Film festival programming isn’t, and frankly should never be, an exact science.
Mathieu Amalric’s fourth feature loyally and effectively adapts George Simenon’s heart-dagger of a novel, retaining its scrambled chronology, as well as its carefully scattered evidence, red herrings, turnabouts, and subjective perspectives on a murder that makes the plot go round.
For all of the evident relish Broomfield has for the chase, the bum-rushing of sources, the turning over of rocks, the without-a-net-leaping into hostile environments, he does seem to be motored by real discontent, disbelief, and dismay over whatever bullshit he’s being fed.