Films about the not-so-great outdoors pervade this year’s festival.
All of the extras are recycled from the DVD, so there’s some standard-definition content that’s suffered upscaling.
The film sludges an adaptive path through the eerily obviative, albeit technically first-person, text of Paul Bowles by the same name.
Sleepwalk is a story of inter-textual synchronicity, of ideas and gestures bleeding from one medium to another.
An intensely intelligent look at American history and a blueprint for how to (un)make it, from one of our country’s finest directors.
The play is a heady Brechtian mashup that surprisingly charms rather than ironically alienates.
Straight to Hell Returns is a screwy and unsound blast.
Tarr achieves an almost terrifying power but sometimes squanders it by hanging on too long.
There’s little doubt that Mystery Train is Jarmusch at his most emotionally forthright.
There is something distinctly portentous about seeing a foreigner dressed as a gangster.
It’s not the music, it’s the refrains that got me.
The film is an obtuse stylistic immersion from the typically on-point and perceptive Jim Jarmusch.
Julien Temple’s Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten is, for the most part, some sort of incredible.
Even as the casting goes against convention, Don and Jarmusch never sufficiently look past the clichés of these roles .
Manhattanites will especially enjoy Jarmusch’s latest, which takes us back to the days when you used to be able to smoke indoors.
Like most great westerns, Dead Man holds the American West and its (white) inhabitants up to close scrutiny.
Coffee and Cigarettes is more fun to reminisce about afterward than it is to endure.