Misconstrued and disparaged by French critics amid a large portion of his vocation, Jean Rollin was one of the genuine beneficiaries of the surrealists and his image of fantastique bears the signs of that developmental impact. Shot in the superb Amiens burial ground, La Rose de fer is one of his most close to home and idyllic works. Two sweethearts go for an outing in a cemetery, however when the night comes they can't discover the entryway to clear out. A fantasy like nighttime meander through headstones looking for the lost entryway, it is an initiatory adventure to love and passing, and a paean to an erotic, lively other-universe of the creative energy that is introduced as interminably more tempting than the dreary truth of modernity.
More than his unpredictability, notwithstanding, it's Phoenix's depiction of Joe's spooky enduring that lingers longest. In maybe the film's most surprising sequence, Joe goes up against a home gatecrasher he's lethally shot in the stomach. Instead of demanding information before putting him out of his misery, Joe offers him a painkiller and after that lays down beside him on the floor, holding his hand and joining the man in a mumbly chime in to Charlene's "I've Never Been to Me." Like a later submerged suicide endeavor and the finale's allegorical restoration, it's a minute in which Joe discovers that comfort is achieved not from death but rather from empathy. It's a natural exercise given remarkable new life by You Were Never Really Here, a gem of tremendous excellence and sorrow stricken wrath that tunnels under your skin and into your head, and declines to clear out.
The on-the-fly creative impulses of a veteran documentarian become the map of her career-long relationship with trauma and accountability. An emotional feat of editing, and an amazing jaunt through time and place.
Wry, humane and thoughtful… the film treats its destabilising cluster of crises with extraordinary restraint. It presents the hard, complex business of surviving life in a disarmingly simple way.
It is a film about a heartbroken Christmas-tree salesman who lives in a trailer somewhere in Williamsburg and works the night shift selling Christmas trees. He meets a mysterious woman and some awesome colorful customers who, perhaps, rescue him from his own self-destruction. The film feels like a beautiful fairytale, calm, warm, and poetic. Notably, it is shot by Sean Williams (Listen Up Philip, Heaven Knows What, The Black Balloon), which helps make the film so personal and intimate.
The film haunts you long after it has ended. Strange, mystifyingly oblique magical realism you cannot miss. It sets no boundaries between past and present, dream and reality, body and spirit. It is probably one of the most amazing films where reality submerges with a dream-like world that is hard to forget.
Steve Cochran in one of his greatest roles stars as a laconic, brooding loner whose ostensibly stable, organized life effortlessly dissolves, sending him on a harsh, aimless journey with his young daughter through the bleak, post-war landscapes of Antonioni’s homeland, the Po Valley. Parenthetical, irresolute events surround the heartbroken man’s elliptical wanderings – heavy with the weight of psychological silences, negative space and delicate instances of remarkable, naked humanity. Trapped between traditional and modern existences and needs, the wounded working-class figures that dot his journey only push him further away from his soul and toward the end of his nomadic path, a closed circuit which seems to complete itself of its own accord.
David Bradley’s performance as Billy Casper is incredible. There is something magical about the fringes of a town where it meets the country, where space opens out and a different kind of solitude becomes possible.
Gerard Depardieu plays a priest much surer of existence of Satan than he is of God, and Maurice Pialat’s sparse, merciless style makes you feel the man’s overwhelming spiritual hunger. A difficult, but richly rewarding film that remains largely unknown to most viewers.
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Movie comment on La rose de fer
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Misconstrued and disparaged by French critics amid a large portion of his vocation, Jean Rollin was one of the genuine beneficiaries of the surrealists and his image of fantastique bears the signs of that developmental impact. Shot in the superb Amiens burial ground, La Rose de fer is one of his most close to home and idyllic works. Two sweethearts go for an outing in a cemetery, however when the night comes they can't discover the entryway to clear out. A fantasy like nighttime meander through headstones looking for the lost entryway, it is an initiatory adventure to love and passing, and a paean to an erotic, lively other-universe of the creative energy that is introduced as interminably more tempting than the dreary truth of modernity.Movie comment on You Were Never Really Here
VagueVisages
More than his unpredictability, notwithstanding, it's Phoenix's depiction of Joe's spooky enduring that lingers longest. In maybe the film's most surprising sequence, Joe goes up against a home gatecrasher he's lethally shot in the stomach. Instead of demanding information before putting him out of his misery, Joe offers him a painkiller and after that lays down beside him on the floor, holding his hand and joining the man in a mumbly chime in to Charlene's "I've Never Been to Me." Like a later submerged suicide endeavor and the finale's allegorical restoration, it's a minute in which Joe discovers that comfort is achieved not from death but rather from empathy. It's a natural exercise given remarkable new life by You Were Never Really Here, a gem of tremendous excellence and sorrow stricken wrath that tunnels under your skin and into your head, and declines to clear out.Movie comment on Cameraperson
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The on-the-fly creative impulses of a veteran documentarian become the map of her career-long relationship with trauma and accountability. An emotional feat of editing, and an amazing jaunt through time and place.Movie comment on Collective: Unconscious
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https://vimeo.com/178011614Movie comment on L'avenir
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Wry, humane and thoughtful… the film treats its destabilising cluster of crises with extraordinary restraint. It presents the hard, complex business of surviving life in a disarmingly simple way.Movie comment on Christmas, Again
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It is a film about a heartbroken Christmas-tree salesman who lives in a trailer somewhere in Williamsburg and works the night shift selling Christmas trees. He meets a mysterious woman and some awesome colorful customers who, perhaps, rescue him from his own self-destruction. The film feels like a beautiful fairytale, calm, warm, and poetic. Notably, it is shot by Sean Williams (Listen Up Philip, Heaven Knows What, The Black Balloon), which helps make the film so personal and intimate.Movie comment on Loong Boonmee raleuk chat
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The film haunts you long after it has ended. Strange, mystifyingly oblique magical realism you cannot miss. It sets no boundaries between past and present, dream and reality, body and spirit. It is probably one of the most amazing films where reality submerges with a dream-like world that is hard to forget.Movie comment on Il grido
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Steve Cochran in one of his greatest roles stars as a laconic, brooding loner whose ostensibly stable, organized life effortlessly dissolves, sending him on a harsh, aimless journey with his young daughter through the bleak, post-war landscapes of Antonioni’s homeland, the Po Valley. Parenthetical, irresolute events surround the heartbroken man’s elliptical wanderings – heavy with the weight of psychological silences, negative space and delicate instances of remarkable, naked humanity. Trapped between traditional and modern existences and needs, the wounded working-class figures that dot his journey only push him further away from his soul and toward the end of his nomadic path, a closed circuit which seems to complete itself of its own accord.Movie comment on Kes
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David Bradley’s performance as Billy Casper is incredible. There is something magical about the fringes of a town where it meets the country, where space opens out and a different kind of solitude becomes possible.Movie comment on Sous le soleil de Satan
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Gerard Depardieu plays a priest much surer of existence of Satan than he is of God, and Maurice Pialat’s sparse, merciless style makes you feel the man’s overwhelming spiritual hunger. A difficult, but richly rewarding film that remains largely unknown to most viewers.Movie comment on Na srebrnym globie
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Andrzej Zulawski’s masterpiece...