Reverse Shot A different angle on moving images—past, present, and future

In placing us so fully within the complexities of the COVID-era present, Coma reveals our very inability to unify it in thought.

In Our Day sets two unconnected, rhyming narratives against each other for scrutiny—like looking at two paint samples from the same spectrum side by side and parsing the differences.

Creton builds his characters up from the outside; they lack a real sense of interiority. Where A Prince thrives is in its lush cinematography, inviting the audience into cozy, well-worn interiors and verdant, rich landscapes.

The film is another of brothers Bill and Turner Ross’s immersions in the regional euphoric...The filmmakers are after a kind of Herzogian ecstatic truth, often to be found in the kinds of spaces where someone is likely to be rolling on literal ecstasy.

The film is a digressive, musically driven bildungsroman told through a series of vignettes that glimpse slivers of contemporary West Indian British life. Ové shoots London as alternately drab and vibrant.

What starts out as an environmental parable, pitting respectful efforts to live in balance with nature against shortsighted corporate greed, turns into something far stranger and more disquieting.

The 15-year-old me would have gotten a big kick out of Civil War—but for better or for worse he’s not writing this review.

The Zellners do not lean into such a crude comparison, yet it is hard not to read the dissolution of the cryptid community as an echo of the real-life devastation settler-colonialism has wrought on this continent’s peoples.

This film is incendiary, but it should be discussed not just for its controversy. What makes this film significant is how it engages with the iconography of IP superhero blockbuster cinema and with the trans film image.

There is nothing new under the sun in the films of Alice Rohrwacher, which pay their respects to the beauty and mystery of older civilizations while suggesting that exploitation—of people, and of physical and spiritual resources— is almost as ancient as the world itself.

The village first drew Zhang Mengqi back as a subject in filmmaker Wu Wenguang’s Folk Memory Project, a collection of oral histories from people who lived through the Great Famine.

Like Godard, Radu Jude is acutely aware of how every image or sequence of images can be sorted into genres, textures, colors, references, and so on, categories whose associations stretch back into the whole of cinema’s past.

Being lost is a condition of possibility, which the film’s characters practice half with intention and half by circumstance.

That the output of Fessenden over four decades has been taken for granted is one thing, but it is more like his being taken for granted has itself been taken for granted, as grimly self-fulfilling as any dark prophecy about pentagrams and the need to stay off the moors.