So clouded is she by the metrics of corporate progress and ladder-climbing that basic human feelings come to sound like advertising jargon. By this logic, human lives themselves lose significance, allowing cruelty to go unchecked under the guise of economic efficiency.
She structures her films around dramatic temporal and spatial jumps, but without the backbone of conventional pacing they seem especially jarring; it often takes a minute to realize that Schanelec has shifted gears to a different world.
Lancaster is the type of deeply flawed, selfish man with too much power who led the latter half of the 20th century astray, and remains at the top well into the 21st. He is the past, our horrible present, and even worse, the future: a time-traveler of the most diabolical variety.
Carax envisions life as an endless state of unpredictable flux. We can’t help but transform depending on who we’re with and which spaces we enter, on-screen or off-. Taking escapism to its limit, it’s impossible to reconcile the “real” self with the “role.”
Coded Bias, Time, and A Thousand Cuts are films made by women of color about women of color who have had enough with the status quo and taken it upon themselves to demand justice on their own terms.
Cameraperson neither goes out of its way to remove traces of the maker nor takes her as subject exactly, but acknowledges the idea that the camera is an extension of a particular human being, and that the images before us are indelibly imbued with her perspective and presence.
We know these kinds of cinematic images, because they’re usually used as fillers—the musical entr'acte, the pause between two actions—but in Boyhood they channel both Mason’s unique experience and the film’s greater ambition of recording (a) lifetime.
The revolt that Alma initiates can be read as Anderson’s response to cinematic texts like Rebecca and Vertigo—what might have transpired if Madeleine hadn’t let Scottie use clothing as a weapon to exert control. Phantom Thread is what happens when the mannequin comes to life.
Jenkins, who often cites his early influences in the films of Claire Denis, Wong Kar-wai, Hou Hsiao-hsien, and Lucrecia Martel, builds the narrative not through plot points, but through a pervasive dance between feelings of pressure and release.
More than an exercise in how to evade censorship, This Is Not a Film is also a film essay, of sorts. It interrogates the essence of cinema, and poignantly shows how a film experience transcends its purely technical means.
Did and didn’t. The truth hides somewhere in that collision of being and non-being, always just out of reach. She is Miller's muse, and She isn't his muse. The revelation is a deception is a revelation is a deception, ad infinitum.
While it’s tempting to view these histrionics as dramatic fabrications, almost everything that unfolds was captured on video recordings of the actual trial, and lifted from official testimony transcripts. Nonetheless, Bellocchio doesn’t resist the opportunity to ham up the fracas an extra notch or two, to discombobulating effect.