You know the deal: The spoils go to the studio that makes the biggest dent in the Academy member’s consciousness.
Haynes’s perspective is one of existential culpability.
While its quirks and hat-tricks have nothing on Dr. Arkadin and the dizzying The Trial, it’s the closest thing to a pitch-perfect how-to guide from Hollywood’s golden age.
It’s like staring at Arliss Howard’s penis for two hours.
Kiarostami’s close-up, in the end, should not be taken merely as a recording of history.