Yesterday, a genuine conceptual and artistic film pioneer who was also possessed of an earnest conscience saw his final day on Earth. His genius work remains, and here's one of my favorite of his films, Mon Oncle D'Amerique, for your viewing pleasure.
Herewith, notes on the Portland International Film Festival's Grimm (and grimmer) opening-night silent-film Blancanieves, and the edgy, Man VS. Nature doc, Leviathan, plus notes on the recently restored stone-cold classic doc, Cousin Jules.
I'm re-posting this review from NYFF#48 to earnestly remind fans of engagé cinema that today is their last chance to screen Post-Mortem, an essential, unflinching meditation on Chile's semi-recent history -- and by extension, its (and our own) ongoing internal reckoning.
From Iceland's first sound feature through a look at DIY music circa '81, to a certified international blockbuster, New York cinephiles are getting a terrific, once-in-a-lifetime primer on less-exposed, eminently worthwhile films from Iceland.
I was invited to film some Rubber Tracks sessions at the Converse/The Fader Fort during SXSW, and the afternoon I made it in with my camera served as a reminder that sometimes the raw process is more arresting to witness than the finished result.
If the end of the world or your final film? is when you say what you really mean, perhaps with The Turin Horse, Béla Tarr is giving the last laugh to the Gypsies of his state-seized debut film (shot at age 16) and delivering a stone-cold classic.
In anticipation of 12/21/12, this past year saw a return of the doomsday film. Melancholia was an okay end-of-the-world movie, but for this fan, it was not a very good Lars Von Trier film. Perhaps a third viewing is in order.
For most Americans, it may be hard to believe there is another nation on Earth for whom 9/11 is a defining day -- but to Chileans, it is, and was so, long before ours. In fact, Chile's 9/11 occurred with the aid of unseen US influence facilitating a bloody military coup d'etat.