Alongside fiction films depicting emerging voices, nine of the Panorma sidebar’s 45 features are documentaries about creative talents.
These films depict in distinctive ways the process of coping with and even accepting the dead’s presence in our lives.
These films suggest the cinema as another place where we can simulate and reflect on life within and surrounded by natural landscapes.
There’s a good chance that a female filmmaker will walk away with the Golden Bear for the second year in a row.
A melancholy air blows through every haunted frame of Hong Sang-soo’s On the Beach at Night Alone.
Aki Kaurismäki rhymes his characters’ feelings of alienation to the mise-en-scène’s pastel blues and decaying browns.
Luca Guadagnino’s film proves affecting as a chronicle of a young man learning to embrace his more emotional side.
The film’s approach to exploring the Sonoran Desert and topic of immigration often veers toward the avant-garde.
In The Dinner, writer-director Oren Moverman wastes no time in establishing a tone of grandiose scabrousness.
Compared to its predecessor, director Danny Boyle’s T2 Trainspotting is a relatively aimless and sedate experience.
The film’s crucial shortcoming is its failure to illuminate both the inner life and artistic genius of Django Reinhardt.
More than a great queer film, Don’t Call Me Son is a great career move for Anna Muylaert.
Masculinity here is simply a drive, not a commitment to specific objects of desire with specific genitalia.
It’s a refreshing and overdue exposure of the violence that white male privilege breeds and needs to reassert itself.
Mia Hansen-Løve suggests that the desire for fulfillment—of ideology through revolution, of true love through coupledom—is a cute illusion wasted on the young.
It never breathes, never looks away, never digresses. Every single scene is a confrontation of its one and only theme.
Instead of surveying landscape, Nikolaus Geyrhalter seems to treat a decomposed space as a form of letter for some kind of alphabet to emerge.
The film is about how the stories we tell children, as well as the ones they witness for themselves, attach themselves to their little bodies like bee stings.
Kenneth Branagh fully understands the societal critique underlying the tale, and brings it out into the open.
Basically a showcase for Andrew Haigh’s finely tuned screenplay and the performances of its two leads, 45 Years is arguably above all Charlotte Rampling’s show.