The novel suggests a print fusion of the filmmaker’s early, grungy, bluntly metaphorical work with the subtler, formally refined, classical elder-statesman films of his most recent period.
You won’t find it on the top rosters of too many Oscar pundits, but at this stage, the alternately thrilling and unwieldy three-hour epic is the season’s closest thing to a wild card.
I’m totally willing to admit, at the outset, the possibility that any of my favorite 10 below may decline in estimation over time.
Marcus literalizes the intense pain language can cause on both intimate and global scales by turning it into a virulent agent produced by humans.
A man meets a woman, and we’re not even five minutes into the running time of Szamanka before they are having sex on the floor of her rented apartment.
In David Cronenberg’s Crash we are given a collection of characters with often overlapping but not always similar sexual fetishes.