Reviews
Alboury will not come inside, and he will not go home, either; the more the two men try to feel each other out, the less likely it becomes that one or the other is going to budge. This is a compelling setup, sociologically and emotionally loaded.
For all our anxieties around the obsolescence of the medium, Bi Gan is moved by an unwavering belief in its subversive powers. Resurrection is not a valentine so much as a manifesto, a rousing wake-up call to all that cinema can still do.
Khalil Joseph asks the viewer to connect the dots between these places, figures, and events, both fiction and nonfiction, the point is not to figure it all out. BLKNWS is a movie to get lost in, like a hypnotic chopped-and-screwed tape.
Hamlet is invoked as a familiar revenge-plot classic, but that premise is mere window dressing. The characters from the play bear little resemblance to how they are written in it here, and are mostly marginal anyway, leaving the movie more like fanfiction than a seriously considered retelling.
Jenkin shot Rose himself on a 16mm Bolex with no live sound, opting to mix, record, and compose all of the film’s aural elements in postproduction. The uncanny effects of this approach lend his tactile imagery a subtle layer of distortion, the story seemingly echoed from a distant point in time.
What Does That Nature Say to You is notable not because it eschews dramatic material but because it withholds the usual means of discerning which details are relevant or irrelevant to the nominal drama.
Below the Clouds, though set in a relatively small area hunkered uneasily between the Phlegraean Fields to the West and towering Vesuvius to the East, is populated with incidents that invite the viewer to contemplate a broader, global apocalyptic moment.
The point here is not the destination or the shellshocked wanderers, but the conflagrations of sounds and visuals Laxe conjures along the way.
Faces are difficult, if not impossible to make out; human and animal figures frequently blend into the background; ordinary spatial relations are distorted to the point of incomprehensibility. At times recalling the impasto intensity of late Godard, its images are vibrant and smeary and altogether beautiful.
Gavagai is a film about what happens when a European with good intentions tries to make a film set in Africa. His Matryoshka-esque films seek to question the inescapable racial hierarchies wrought by the violence and bloodshed of colonialism. But this film feels more like a bloodletting.
Shot on vintage Bolex cameras, the richly textured 16mm images emerge with the lightness of simplicity, which so charmingly mirrors the candid vignettes they capture.
Frailty and malice would be the simplest emotions to prescribe to a figure like Eleanora Duse, but Bruni Tedeschi opts for an unstoppable, pathetic hysteria. She finds wild variations on Duse’s foolishness that are, at turns, surprising, delightful, and haunting. There is a depth to her artifice.
For these characters, the past and the faraway become convenient displacements for their surrounding horrors. They ramble incoherently about Stalin and Putin, but they cannot seem to face their own regime—not even rhetorically.
The film often feels like a one-act play. It is foremost an experiment, in the same sense as Linda Rosenkrantz’s original mission to document the daily to-dos of her friends.