Though Visconti operates on the surface level of the material, he crafts a seductive surface.
It’s Not Me begins with a modest “I don’t know” as a riposte to a proposed riddle.
Like that infectious, iconic synth-pop theme, this is a film of familiar pleasures.
These three films bear the scars from a region’s history of violence like a fertile inheritance.
It’s impossible to deny that Fargeat’s film holds you even at its most frenzied.
Carson Lund treats the power of a shared interest with profound, elegiac empathy.
Kill continually finds clever ways to defy our expectations.
Goth shines so bright that she illuminates the limits of the film around her.
It’s unclear what the film gains by skewing away from a more straightforward family drama.
The film engages with the stylings and bubbly tonality of the classic rom-com in ironic fashion.
Franz and Fiala discuss how their main character’s struggles relate to the present world.
Breillat discusses image-making and intimacy, scandal and subversion, denial and desire.
Ultimately, Richard LaGravenese’s rom-com is a little too packed with soul-searching speeches.
It’s in the very real, diseased specter of death itself that the film finds its true power.
The characters may surprise each other, but they rarely surprise us.
Drucker discusses how she handled Breillat’s precise and often “tyrannical” directing style.
Gershon discusses what makes the film such an enduring and endearing queer cinema classic.
The stories lack polish, and the characters are never developed beyond archetypes.
The film stands out for its mistrust, not just of images but of the sense of sight altogether.
Cinema can be a salve, but it can also force us to reckon with the chaos of our fragile world.
The film ponders what it means to have the power to distort and weaponize collective memory.