Laxe’s film refreshingly occupies an almost uncategorizable cinematic realm.
The film confounds its surface narrative with hints of layered meanings to come through a jockeying of story threads.
You can experience the festival from beginning to end without leaving the island of Zamalek.
If Ben Rivers brutalizes its artist’s ego, Athina Rachel Tsangari’s film takes a more sardonic look at vanity.
Self-critique is the watchword of the first half of Oliver Laxe’s docu-fiction hybrid.
This festival is trying to push that baseline definition of the documentary at its most banal.