As striking as it is enervating, the film exudes the aridness of a modest short unprofitably expanded to feature length.
Autumn mostly succeeds in illustrating how some art-house clichés never go out of season.
Clammy provocation and surreal fable, Ursula Meier’s film is predicated on thematic and sensory contrasts.
The film is of interest mainly for its peculiar combination of immaculate form and clumsy content.
Murnau’s masterpiece gets the deluxe DVD treatment it deserves.
Warmly tinted and liltingly scored, this is a particularly fetching transfer, particularly considering the film’s rather obscure status.
Luchino Visconti’s swan song is something of a genteel and stately affair.
A peculiarly adagio note on which to close a career with so many fortissimo gestures.
A colorful portrait of an enduring marriage gets the star treatment on DVD.
A patchy but worthy set for a classy star who deserved more exciting roles.
Smooching mannequins, campy tantrums, and repressed sexuality. And just in time for Valentine’s Day.
The film envisions a city kept artistically alive by people willing to offer not just aesthetic objects, but pieces of their lives.
Such a visually evocative film probably deserved a better overall presentation, but the interactive menus are pretty cool.
Rossellini’s great history lessons blow the dust off textbooks.
Get more bang for your buck with this two-disc edition, which is fudge-packed with plenty of titillating bonus features.
Even the film’s most melodic passages are tinged with the feeling of a world vanishing as it is remembered.
The film marked the start of a new phase in Roberto Rossellini’s art.
You can almost smell the powdered wigs in Rossellini’s study of a dandified abyss.
A masterpiece and a doodle make for an odd but worthy double bill for Powell enthusiasts.
A jumpy, erudite cinephile, Olivier Assayas uses Maggie Cheung’s three days in Paris to take stock of cinema as the century comes to an end.