A story of filth and fury and, eventually, of placidity and peace, Her Smell is Alex Ross Perry’s most chaotic and unmuffled
Unlike the red balloon that Pooh follows through much of the running time, Marc Forster’s film lacks lightness.
The sledgehammer preachiness of Mark Pellington’s Nostalgia almost scans as a failed hipster joke.
The filmmaker discusses shooting and editing his film, and working with Adam Horovitz.
Alex Ross Perry’s Golden Exits sustains a lingering aura of futility that’s counterweighted by the film’s beauty.
Golden Exits, the new film by Alex Ross Perry, a favorite of this festival, is an explosion of the director’s aesthetic.
The film feels most real, even at its most absurd, when focused on the idea of closure as a kind of fantasy.
The film convincingly furthers Perry’s continuing championing of DVD as the more evocative alternative to Blu-ray’s crisp digital polish.
Every beautiful, resonant image in Alex Ross Perry’s new film is fraught with neurotic, diaphanous riddles.
Throughout 7 Chinese Brothers, Bob Byington’s sense of humor is familiar and facile.
Perry’s film receives a beautiful DVD transfer that has one foot rooted appropriately in the less varnished past.
Theoretically, the subject of Queen of the Desert could hardly be more Herzogian in nature.
It isn’t so much about “the end of cinema” as it is about the people who abuse the medium and their subjects
Perry’s is an approach with honestly few contemporaries in American independent film.
Corneliu Porumboiu’s The Second Game is a fine example of an impulse toward meta-narrative that has recently reinvigorated the nonfiction form.
Much like the work of generational cohort Michael Robinson, Perry’s films are steeped in a viscous cultural past.
To get an idea of A Separation’s thematic scope, imagine a slow moving avalanche that starts with a single bad decision.
The closer Happy Life gets to finally finding any joy in the fans of this passé scene, the more depressing it becomes.
Sauna on Moon is less a classic narrative than snapshots of a life in progress.
Impolex is an uncommonly honest paean to millennial fecklessness.