The musical format proves a natural fit for Leos Carax’s love of the visual fantasies created by the cinema’s most basic means of illusion.
This is a desperately needed home-video upgrade that at last presents Leos Carax’s film in its correct aspect ratio.
Carax’s intoxicating examination of movie love nearly nets the beautiful transfer it deserves.
Thanks to Carlotta’s exceptional transfer, it’s easier than ever to appreciate the timelessness of Carax’s youth masterpiece.
The film seizes on a particular element of intellectualized youthful ennui with uncommon clarity and ferocity.
The easiest way to find entry into the film is to accede to its reveries, to welcome and possibly celebrate its shifting tones and techniques.
Get your motors running. Death moves at 24 frames per second.
The surefire frontrunners are Kathryn Bigelow, Ben Affleck, and Steven Spielberg.
Under the mercurial surface lies a sorrowful heart.
Holy moly, what a setup!
Thematic preoccupations are what make individual filmmakers so intriguing as one steps back to examine certain artist’s entire careers.
Frances Ha feels like an unusually intimate, personal piece, a return to Noah Baumbach’s early, more naïvely optimistic phase.
The global economic maelstrom found a way to creep its way into the 47th edition of the festival—but only for a moment.
The festival provides no real leitmotif or focus, leaving plenty of room for personal interpretation, and sometimes wonder.
Self-critique or self-indulgence, Holy Motors isn’t afraid to attempt everything under the sun.
There’s nothing in recent memory quite like Merde.
We’ll take bottom-shelf Harmony Korine over just about anything else currently playing in theaters.