Here, the mother/whore dichotomy collapses in whimsical ways: The mother is the whore.
They’re Out of the Business could have taken its cue for something like the “undecorated” movement.
For a film so bent on celebrating the power of silence, Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer has a whole lot of explanatory talking.
Australian filmmaker Joe Cross’s weapon of choice is a juicer.
Mists is a lovely essay film about the ruthlessness of time and the soothing power of remembrance.
It suffers from utilizing the cinematic language of high-budget fare when it clearly lacks the mainstream resources and the outsider sensibility.
There’s a distinct pleasure in watching an awkward Somali girl in the big city go from Nell to Iman in 60 seconds.
Dear Lemon Lima is a quirky beauty of a film with its cotton-candy colors, Miranda July-esque sensibility, and its embracing of alienation as a source of creativity.
The organic decay of the filmed faces create a subtle parallel with the rotting art that, were it not for Igor Savitsky, would have never been seen.
The film’s lack of clarity is precisely the thing that gives it its strange singularity.
Everything Strange and New is a film with no flourishes and little affectation.
Loveless feels very much like a botched Arnaud Desplechin film that could only have worked had it starred Mathieu Amalric.
It’s afraid of the dullness of its subject matter, and of being lost in the swarm of patronizing eco-documentaries.
The doc sets out to accomplish the impossible task of telling the history of humanity’s relationship to its habitat in under two hours.
Blackmail Boys is more interested in the more obvious gay issues such as marriage equality and religious hypocrisy.
The film isn’t out to demonize Francesca’s upbringing or to play the blame game for her untimely death.
The film is economical and violent like a psychoanalyst’s words in a good session.
The film is a record of a historical process that the West has come to take for granted.
Director Josh Sternfeld, or Meskada’s source code, couples the overt familiarity of the iconography with stomach-turning visual redundancy.
There’s something inherently riveting about watching humans survive in spatial and temporal limbos.