Throughout the film, Lucas Belvaux sidelines the emotional textures that might complicate all his sermonizing.
Christophe Gans’s telling of Beauty and the Beast abounds in impersonal and unsatisfying sumptuousness.
This set of two essential films is light on meaningful supplements, but high on quality cinema.
Kino’s Blu-ray wisely doesn’t attempt to explain its layers with copious extras, leaving the viewer to tease out the director’s final head game.
The film isn’t really fooling anyone into feeling doom-laden suspense (Paris, after all, is still standing), but the principal performers sell the momentousness of the drama.
Alain Resnais’s final film dares to push through the ghosts that inhabit the present, standing between the pessimism of an ill-spent past and the optimism of an undefined future.
Alain Resnais’s Wild Grass is cute stuff—maybe too cute.
Perennial modernist Alain Resnais enters old-man-cinema territory with grace and style.
As he grew older, Alain Resnais revealed the wistful sentimentalist behind the formalist pathfinder of Hiroshima Mon Amour and Muriel.
The Complete Jacques Rivette retrospective enters its fourth week at the Museum of the Moving Image.
Alain Resnais’s Gallic transposition of British playwright Alan Ayckbourn’s Private Fears in Public Places is a masterful trifle.