This is a more generous and inviting film that lives up to the complex implications of its now-removed subtitle.
Reflections and rhymes abound in David Lynch’s Inland Empire.
Even those unfamiliar with the work of Roberto Rossellini should get something out of Guy Maddin’s haunting and memorable short.
If Marie Nyreröd’s documentary feels somewhat haphazard and incomplete, it is for a good reason.
The film is ultimately hopeful in its belief that the human comedy, whatever its fallacies and failures, is always granted continuance.
The Complete Jacques Rivette retrospective enters its fourth week at the Museum of the Moving Image.
Jacques Rivette’s short Le Coup du Berger has quite the pedigree.
The Museum of the Moving Image’s complete Jacques Rivette retrospective moves into its third week with screenings of three more recent features.
And so we face another imponderable with the news that director Robert Altman has passed away at age 81.
Jacques Rivette’s Paris Belongs to Us is technically the inaugural feature of the French New Wave.
The retrospective’s Sunday screenings kick off with Rivette’s 1966 episode of Cinéastes, de notre temps, which profiles Jean Renoir.
The disc’s intense focus on the film’s production and Brandon Routh’s transformation into Superman probably makes this a must-own for fans.
Casino Royale is one of the good ones, and not just for the way it wittily recontextualizes several series touchstones.
It would be foolish to deny the supreme technical achievements of Children of Men.
Zhang Yimou moves ever closer to grand opera with Curse of the Golden Flower.
As the saying goes, if you see only one Rivette film…
Ostensibly an adaptation of the oft-filmed Wuthering Heights, Hurlevent feels more like a schematic indication of Emily Brontë’s famed novel, though that should not be taken as a criticism.
Key to the film’s pervasive sense of paranoia are its varied, though tonally similar settings.
Jacques Rivette’s masterpiece is a deceptively light-hearted confection that begins and ends (or, rather, begins again) at the entrance to a Parisian wonderland.
The film vacillates between genuine insight and didactic mystique-of-the-artist bullshit.