Best Premiere Viewings of November 2023

1. Bitterroot Episode 1: Greed’s Dream (Johnny Clyde, 2023)

Initially conceived as a feature film, ‘Bitterroot’ has been transmuted into an online series, and its first episode is a pure surrealist bliss! A mesmerizing blend of photo-novel, painting, and 2D animation, it utilizes a dazzling barrage of phantasmagorical imagery to reach your subconscious mind. Elevating the viewing experience – akin to a hypnagogic trance – is an ethereal, mystifying score synergized with a cryptic, distorted voice-over. Johnny Clyde (The Forgotten Colours of Dreams) once again proves to be one of the most distinct voices of independent cinema.

2. Les chambres rouges / Red Rooms (Pascal Plante, 2023)

If I were asked to describe ‘Red Rooms’ in a single word, I would probably opt for ‘anti-sensationalist’, which also perfectly suits the author’s measured approach to the razor-sharp dissection of modern society, or rather, its evils, collective and individual alike, as well as to the stark, mystery-imbued study of a character fascinated by a heinous crime. Firmly anchored in the central, utterly magnetic performance from Juliette Gariépy whose micro-acting skills give Mads Mikkelsen a good run for his money, this stellar, thought-provoking, impressively cold, steely unnerving and formally ingenious psycho-drama/thriller needs no Hollywood-style ‘fireworks’ to keep you glued to screen. Right from the get-go set in a featureless, yet instantly captivating courtroom, it snatches your attention by virtue of extraordinary camerawork, especially the expert use of long takes, at once immersive and chillingly uncanny sound design, elaborate music score which elevates the bleakness of the atmosphere, and above all, incredibly pedantic direction marked by eerie, Haneke-like austerity, and to a certain degree, methodical mannerism of late Schrader. Beneath its ‘frigid’ surface of brilliantly played understatements, simmers a well of intense emotions, lending a refined patina to the proceedings...

3. Diabły, diabły / Devils, Devils (Dorota Kędzierzawska, 1991)

Dorota Kędzierzawska gently blurs the boundaries between innocence and eroticism in her feature debut – a highly poeticized coming-of-age drama that explores the budding sexuality of a teenage girl, Mała (lit. little one), against the backdrop of the tension between villagers and Romani nomads – ostracized and demonized by country bumpkins – in 60’s Poland. Eschewing dialogue in favor of stunningly beautiful, psychologically penetrating close-ups, she also paints one of the most romantic portraits of Roma people, immersing herself, the young heroine (Justyna Ciemny, absolutely wonderful in the central role) and the viewer in their songs and dancing. From the largely non-professional cast who give off Pasoliniesque vibes at times, she acquires a great deal of authenticity, as well as a strong sense of freedom, delivering the film of pristine energies and meaningful silences, with every look, smile, touch and step impregnated with keen lyricism.

4. La fiancée du pirate / A Very Curious Girl (Nelly Kaplan, 1969)

Chytilova’s feminist radicalism, Buñuelian gleeful irreverence, Papatakis’s anarchic verve, and Godard’s bold use of primary colors coalesce in one of the most entertaining cine-humiliations of capitalist patriarchy. Nelly Kaplan directs her feature debut with playful audacity and rebellious openness, channeling her confrontational zeal through Bernadette Lafont in the central role. Her vibrantly farcical story of a young woman’s liberation from the confines of provincial hypocrisy sees the weaponization of female sexuality as a form of modern-day witchcraft whose practitioner ‘doesn’t let herself to be burned’, in the words of the director herself. ‘A Very Curious Girl’ makes me very curious about other Kaplan’s films.

5. Scavengers Reign (Joseph Bennett & Charles Huettner, 2023)

Taking cues from Mœbius’s artwork, and Laloux’s cult favorites such as ‘Gandahar’, Miyazaki’s adaptation of ‘Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind’ manga, and Dudok de Wit’s masterpiece ‘The Red Turtle’, as well as from a number of movies involving a spaceship crew lost in an alien environment, Bennett & Huettner deliver one of the most imaginative pieces of science-fiction in recent years! ‘Scavengers Reign’ follows a group of survivors from a space freighter Demeter 227 who find themselves stranded on a gorgeous, yet not quite welcoming planet Vesta, and the utterly impressive world building alone is reason enough to visit this short series. Brimming with outlandish vistas and bizarre creatures that make up the setting’s intricate, not to mention awe-inspiring eco-system, it strikes you hard with its surreal-like qualities that are further enhanced by dream sequences and hallucinations, all presented in charmingly (and refreshingly!) quaint 2D animation accompanied by a mesmerizing score.

6. Žuvies diena (Algimantas Puipa, 1990)

Veronika’s reality resembles a disorienting dream, and her dreams are almost as tangible as off-kilter reality. In-between the two indistinguishable ‘extremes’ lies her writing with ‘imaginary exotic setting’, ‘characters who aren’t real’, and ‘everything messed-up on purpose’, in the words of her editor. ‘Why not talk to a film director?’, he asks, hinting at the meta-quality of the fragmented, freewheeling narrative, and quite probably referencing to Jolita Skablauskaitė’s work which served as the source of inspiration for Liucia Armonaitė and Regina Vosyliutė’s screenplay. Whimsically poetic, decidedly meandering and starkly intuitive in its stream-of-consciousness rapture, ‘The Day of the Fish’ stubbornly refuses to conform, placing the viewer in the heroine’s disjointed point of view, and employing a combined barrage of borderline oneiric imagery, dissonantly eclectic soundtrack, and often allusive dialogue to a hypnotizing effect. 

7. Papa les petits bateaux... / Papa, the Lil’ Boats (Nelly Kaplan, 1971)

Nelly Kaplan and her crew must’ve had a whale of a time on the set, because ‘Papa, the Lil’ Boats’ sizzles with their sparkling energies combined in a most fascinating way! Insanely farcical, cartoonishly silly, and brimming with a cult potential, this comedy sees a rich, not to mention shrewd heiress, Vénus ‘Cookie’ De Palma (outlandishly funny Sheila White!), transforming from a victim into a kicking, screaming, scheming and dancing, or simply put, seductively misbehaving nightmare for an unlikely band of  kidnappers. As they fall one after another in a series of ‘accidents’, unaware that their ‘brilliant’ plan is doomed right from the chloroformless start, Kaplan gleefully mocks greed, stupidity, possessiveness, and a capitalist paternal figure embodied by Sydney ‘son of Charlie’ Chaplin in a superb supporting role. She makes the most of the limited locations, with DoP Ricardo Aronovich (who filmed ‘Jaune le soleil’ by Marguerite Duras in the same year) capturing all the deliciously colorful zaniness with aplomb.

8. La giornata balorda / From a Roman Balcony (Mauro Bolognini, 1960)

Opening with a dizzyingly beautiful long, low-angle take that captures not only the dilapidation and poverty of a slum tenement, but its very soul as well, ‘From a Roman Balcony’ immediately pulls you into a bold deglamorization of Rome, as it follows a sexed-up ne’er-do-well protagonist, Davide Saraceno (Jean Sorel, his talent matched with good looks), in the seemingly futile search for a job. More interested in women than work, with a teenage fiancée (angelic Valeria Ciangottini) and newborn son waiting at home, Davide crosses paths with three gorgeous paramours-to-be, manicurist Marina (Jeanne Valérie), prostitute Sabina (Isabelle Corey) and mysterious, truck-driving Freja (Lea Massari), approaching his goal in most unexpected ways, through the Roman underbelly. Heavily censored at the time, Bolognini’s social drama appears like a bridge between neorealism and modernism, seducing the viewer with Piero Piccioni’s smoky jazz score, and Aldo Scavarda’s brilliant cinematography, all the while thematically anticipating one of its co-writer’s debut – Pasolini’s ‘Accattone’ (1961). 

9. Finský nůž / The Finnish Knife (Zdenek Sirový, 1965)

From Věra Chytilová and František Vláčil to Juraj Herz and Juraj Jakubisko, the Czechoslovak cinema of the 60’s holds a number of must-see titles for any true cinephile. Even the lesser known / overlooked films such as ‘The Finnish Knife’ tend to leave a strong impression. Co-written by director Zdenek Sirový, and Pavel Juráček who would work alongside Chytilová’s on her cult feature ‘Daisies’ in the following year, this psychological drama / road movie belongs to the ‘misguided youth’ drawer in the New Wave archives. A taut examination of guilt, it revolves around two adolescents, Tonda (Karel Meister) and Honza (Jaromír Hanzlík), who flee from justice believing the latter is responsible for murdering a man with the titular knife. On the way to Poland, the boys’ friendship is put to a severe test, because apart from the (unproven) crime, they don’t share much in common, with their disparate inner states and insecurities externalized through the beautiful chiaroscuro cinematography of Jan Čuřík (The White Dove, Joseph Killian, Valerie and Her Week of Wonders), editor Jan Chaloupek’s insightful cuts, and Wiliam Bukový’s mood-swinging score. At times, it appears that Sirový leans on Jan Němec’s masterful debut ‘Diamonds of the Night’ (1964), although his piece is not nearly as bleak, nor does it slip into surrealism, with tonal oscillations handled deftly.

10. Jowita / Jovita (Janusz Morgenstern, 1967)

Daniel Olbrychski – memorable as a leading protagonist in Andrzej Wajda’s masterful epic ‘The Ashes’ – brings playboyish charm to the role of an architect and athlete, Marek Arens, whose obsession with an enigmatic woman from a masquerade party leads him down the spiral of frustration and self-pity. His flings, as well as an ostensibly meaningful romance with Agnieszka (Barbara Lass, utterly delightful), and frequent visits to concerts of classical music, are all captured in captivating B&W (Jan Laskowski, who was also behind the camera of Morgenstern’s sparkly debut ‘Good Bye, Till Tomorrow’), accompanied by mood-establishing, if slightly underused jazzing by saxophonist Jerzy Matuszkiewicz. Helmed with a keen sense of modernity characteristic of the European cinema of the time, Jowita is a delectable treat for any 60’s-loving movie buff.

11. L’ordre et la sécurité du monde / Last In, First Out (Claude D’Anna, 1978)

“Where imperialism is retreating, it is robbing, destroying and starving. Rich countries are preparing a bloody future for themselves.”

Three years after ‘Trompe l’oeil’, Marie-France Bonin (aka Laure Dechasnel) and Claude D’Anna come up with another mystery as co-writers and star + director duo, but this time, they take cues from Hitchcock and Melville, with some proto-Lynchian vibes channelled through Dennis Hopper’s Methadrine-sniffing, Frank Booth-anticipating baddie, Medford. Set against some shady dealings involving higher-ups from European and American fractions opposed over a vague Third World exploitation business, the opaque thriller-drama revolves around Hélène Lehman (Bonin), a young woman mistaken for a spy after a passport mix-up with Bruno Cremer’s journalist hero, Lucas Richter, on the railway line from Paris to Zurich. Although dialogue-heavy, and reliant on long-distance calls turned leitmotif of sorts, the film is fraught with tension simmering under its ‘autumnal’ surface, and establishing an atmosphere at once gravely conspiratorial and frigidly melancholic, permeated with the oppressive sense of urgency, paranoia and danger. Emphasizing the gloom is Eduard van der Enden’s neo-noirish cinematography of predominantly muted colors, and clickety-clack humming of a train sparsely interrupted by a jazzy / electronic score intermittently elegiac and foreboding. 

12. Slike iz života udarnika / Life of a Shock Force Worker (Bahrudin ‘Bato’ Čengić, 1972)

Brimming with bitter irony and unwavering determination, ‘Life of a Shock Force Worker’ employs acerbic humor and meticulously composed vignettes somewhat reminiscent of Parajanov’s tableaux vivants or rather, pieces of naïve art to tell the story of the rise and fall of proletariat, focusing on a Bosnian coal miner, Adem. Based on a script co-written by director Bahrudin Čengić, and Branko Vučićević (Love Affair, or The Case of the Missing Switchboard Operator / Innocence Unprotected / Early Works), this satirical dramedy is beautifully lensed by acclaimed cinematographer and filmmaker Karpo Aćimović Godina (The Medusa Raft, also penned by the aforementioned Vučićević), featuring an authentic cast of both professional and non-professional actors.

13. La vocation suspendue / The Suspended Vocation (Raúl Ruiz, 1978)

Watching a film signed by Raúl Ruiz always poses a challenge, and ‘The Suspended Vocation’ situates itself in the pantheon of the most difficult ones. Semantically complex and formally playful, this unconventional drama is – on the surface – about ideological disputes between two fractions, the Devotion and Black Party, within French Catholic Church. However, it delves much deeper than that, into the (left-wing) politics, the nature of cinema, philosophical conundrums, as well as into one’s own dichotomies reflected in the film’s ‘dual’ structure, with Pascal Bonitzer and Didier Flamand portraying a protagonist, father Jérôme, in color and B&W parts, respectively. Add to that the fact that Ruiz operated in exile, and you’re in for a Borgesian treat, impossible to grasp in one viewing, and too heady in its intricacies to be approached again. One thing is sure, though, and that is the beauty of cinematography by Sacha Vierny of ‘Hiroshima Mon Amour’ fame, and Maurice Perrimond who collaborated with Ruiz on ‘The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting’ released in the same year.

14. Plaisir d’amour / The Pleasure of Love (Nelly Kaplan, 1991)

Cécile Sanz de Alba, Dominique Blanc and Françoise Fabian are all superb as witty seductresses Jo, Clo and Do in Nelly Kaplan’s sexy, campy, quirky, surreal, visually stunning and most elegantly directed comedy.

15. Lekcja martwego języka / Lesson of a Dead Language (Janusz Majewski, 1979)

“I cannot fight evil. What shall we fight and what for anyway? We live in void. We have impressions and hallucinations sometimes, but no one really knows, what it is.”

An allegorical, stunningly framed chronicle of a dying, morally ambiguous soldier at the end of the Great War, operating as a moody meditation on death.

Nikola Gocic: Bridging Realms Through Digital Collage

A wonderfully penned article titled Nikola Gocic: Bridging Realms Through Digital Collage and providing insight into my collage art practice has been published today on AATONAU - a platform dedicated to promoting talented artists worldwide.

Best Premiere Viewings of October 2023

1. Koński ogon / The Horse Tail (Justyna Łuczaj, 2023)

In a modern re-imagination of the Oedipus myth, first-time director Justyna Łuczaj discovers sublime beauty amidst mud, garbage and intricate relationships stained with traumas and erotic tension. Setting her (superb!) debut in an unwelcoming middle-of-nowhere – various decrepit locales in Poland and Slovakia – surrounded by a lush forest, she confidently builds a weird, borderline post-apocalyptic world, far removed from regal Thebe. Her hero is a young, orphaned outcast, Maj (a bold big-screen inauguration for magnetic Remigiusz Pocica), raised by a peculiar ‘daddy’ figure, Hans (uninhibited Przemysław Bluszcz, giving off some Udo Kier vibes), the boy’s estranged mother is an elderly sex-worker, Diana (the phantasmal presence of Ryta Kurak), and king Laius’s reflection is a deranged policeman, Max (Wojciech Bialas, imposing as a vile embodiment of toxic masculinity / authority).

They all yearn for love, each one in their own (degenerate?) way, and incessantly fail to achieve it, although Maj is allowed a few moments of tenderness with his (yet unknown to him) half-sister Dagmara (Anouchka Kolbuch) whose character shines a short-living light of hope and innocence on her sibling’s bleak struggle. Dark hairs (of the titular horse tail?) float down the river, as a warning of impending doom, all the while the toothless narrator (Tomasz Mularski) – a deliberate vulgarization of Greek chorus – adds a few more pinches of filth into a fragmented, provocative and to a certain point puzzling narrative. Łuczaj demonstrates uncompromising resolve in her formally challenging, subtly transgressive portrayal of lost, lonely, loveless souls, eliciting immediate performances from a largely non-professional cast, and transforming the obscure reality of her protagonists into an emotionally raw ‘unreality’, simultaneously surreal, twisted, repellent and fascinating. ‘An acquired taste’ may be an overused phrase, but it certainly applies to this feature which is a strong contender for this writer’s annual Top 5. 

2. Megalomaniac (Karim Ouelhaj, 2022)

At once repulsive and spellbinding, naturalistically dirty and nightmarishly surrealistic, ‘Megalomaniac’ is a relentlessly grim, thoroughly unsettling and viscerally thought-provoking exercise in evil of the human kind, blurring the line between the perp and the victim, reality and fiction. Directed with an assured hand and keen sense of ambiguity which permeates the story (based on a real-life serial killer in 90’s Belgium), it depicts the violence at its most disgusting, venomous and hard-hitting, as it sets a new milestone in the horror genre. Boasting a stylized, darkly arresting cinematography (François Schmitt) and haunting, insidiously evocative score (Simon Fransquet & Gary Moonboots), the film is also praiseworthy for superb performances by the entire cast, particularly from Eline Schumacher, awe-inspiring and subtly unhinged in the role of a mentally unbalanced Martha. A severely underrated flick!

3. Le pharaon, le sauvage et la princesse / The Black Pharaoh, the Savage and the Princess (Michel Ocelot, 2022)

If Michel Ocelot did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him. His latest opus – a fairy tale omnibus that celebrates multiculturalism, and mocks autocratic figures – is so enchanting, that I was under its spell the moment it began. Emotionally resonant in their (timeless) simplicity, three stories are presented in a gorgeous animation style that channels the spirits of, respectively, artists of ancient Egypt, the one & only Lotte Reiniger, and masters of arabesque, with the lavish orchestral score elevating the viewing experience. For 80 minutes, I felt like a child listening with wide-eyed attentiveness to the voice of its kind grandfather...

4. Kyōnetsu no Kisetsu / The Warped Ones (Koreyoshi Kurahara, 1960)

“Only guys who can’t appreciate jazz get into fights.”

And jazz – turned into a guiding force and even a weapon of sorts – seeps from virtually every pore of ‘The Warped Ones’, not only through its swingin’ soundtrack that dictates its irregular rhythms, but also in the dizzying camerawork that leaves you breathless, more effortlessly than Godard’s seminal work, as well as in the way its anti-hero, Akira, moves and grimaces in his hellbent recklessness, brought to uninhibited life by Tamio Kawaji in the utterly magnetic performance. This young delinquent is hardly a sympathetic fella, but he possesses tremendous bad-boy charisma, and his seemingly inexhaustible energy propels the (anarcho-pessimist?) narrative, demolishing all obstacles like a wrecking ball. According to film critic Tim Lucas, he must’ve served as the inspiration for Alex DeLarge in 1971 rendition of ‘A Clockwork Orange’, especially when a number of parallels between them are taken into consideration. So, could it be that Kubrick had seen ‘The Warped Ones’ in a double bill with ‘A Funeral Parade of Roses’ which is known to have influenced him? Whatever the case may be, Akira is a wild, unstoppable force of nature whose portrait is beautifully painted in euphemisms of a supporting (artist) character (just before he starts choking on a cigarette smoke): “What a muscular, tanned body! And your eyes reflect boredom with modern society. Those dry lips of yours express contempt for society. And that nose! It expresses rebellion against power. The perfect image of a modern man.”

5. Martin (George A. Romero, 1977)

One of the most peculiar and inimitable vampire flicks that I've seen! As intriguing as its titular character (a wonderful debut for John Amplas), it is at once sad, bold, gritty, quirky, intimate, satirical, and mysterious.

6. I Walked with a Zombie (Jacques Tourneur, 1943)

Part romantic melodrama veiled in dark secrets of a sugar planter’s family, and part candid reflection on American colonialism, slavery and racism through the prism of Haitian vodou, ‘I Walked with a Zombie’ is one of the most beautiful and poetic pieces of the classical Hollywood cinema. ‘Out-noiring’ film noir with its superbly expressive, shadow-infested cinematography, and depicting the rituals of African diaspora with a rarely-seen respect, it is directed with stately elegance matched by classy performances, particularly from Frances Dee, Tom Conway and James Ellison. Although pretty tame in terms of chill-inducing, as many other horror movies of the time, it bewitches the viewer with its palpable gothic atmosphere, leaving you with a haunting feeling of melancholy...

7. Mammalia (Sebastian Mihăilescu, 2023)

In Sebastian Mihăilescu’s bold fiction feature debut, the existential absurdity of Roy Andersson is filtered through the prism of the Greek Weird Wave (and the Buharov brothers’ work?) into a surrealistic, double-edged satire of gender norms, as well as of any attempt to soften their rigidity. Entirely composed of long and static takes beautifully shot on 16mm, with the main course of action often pushed into the background or even off-screen, this genre-defying experiment poses a formal challenge alleviated by deadpan humor. Its idiosyncratic tableaux vivants turn banalities of life (and the dangers of dildo-carving cults) on their head, putting the viewer in an awkward position between a nervous chuckle and invigorating befuddlement.

8. Suzy Q (Martin Koolhoven, 1999)

In her first collaboration with filmmaker Martin Koolhaven, which is one of the best looking made-for-TV productions, Carice van Houten brings her natural charm and low-key idiosyncrasies to the role of the film’s namesake – a teenage girl who lives in late 60’s Amsterdam and obsesses over Mick Jagger. Granted once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to pay a hotel-room visit and enjoy a short bonding-session with her favorite rock star and his then-girlfriend Marianne Faithfull, Suzy makes her domestic situation (shrouded in stepfather’s abuse, mother’s apathy and brothers’ waywardness) just a little less miserable. Sensitive themes – inspired by co-writer Frouke Fokkema’s childhood experiences – are handled with admirable subtlety by Koolhaven who employs mod-esque imagery oozing with vivid colors to blow away the dark clouds looming in Suzy’s sky. The reason for such treatment of the dysfunctional family drama could be justified by his sympathy for the heroine, and desire to protect her at least through the visual poetry, or it can be simply viewed as a reflection of her dreamer world view. On the other hand, the frequent use of perspective-distortion lenses and canted camera angles suggest the psychopathology of the household, anticipating the tragedy...

9. Piaffe (Ann Oren, 2022)

Simone Bucio (of ‘The Untamed’ fame) brings both vulnerability and seductiveness to the role of introvert Eva who is forced to accept the Foley artist job after her sister Zara (portrayed by non-binary filmmaker and performance artist Simon[e] Jaikiriuma Paetau – the star of Piaffe’s spiritual predecessor Passage) suffers a nervous breakdown. While struggling to create sounds for an antidepressant commercial, she unexpectedly grows a horsetail that empowers her to lure a kinky botanist, prof. Novak (Sebastian Rudolph), into a game of submission. And so begins Ann Oren’s weirdly hypnotic, magic realism-inspired examination of identity, gender, and intimacy that blurs the boundaries between humans, plants and animals, pulling you ever-deeper into Eva’s sensuous reality. Resting upon a peculiar kind of cinematic artifice somewhat comparable to the likes of Lucile Hadžihalilović, Catherine Breillat, Jessica Haussner and Julia Leigh, ‘Piaffe’ largely operates like a deliberately stilted tone-poem in which dialogue is eschewed in favor of (powerful) visual and aural stimuli – the warm 16mm cinematography by Carlos Vasquez, and Danylo Okulov’s exquisite sound design, as well as of the film’s dense mood turning quirkier as the story progresses.

10. The Ordinaries (Sophie Linnenbaum, 2022)

A harmonious, genre-bending marriage of a quirky metafilm with a capital ‘M’ and edgy satire on classism and racism, at times eerily evocative of the extreme right chapter in the German history, as well as of New American Apartheid, Sophie Linnenbaum’s graduate film also strikes a finely tuned balance between art and entertainment. Demonstrating ‘ambition and craft on a mightily impressive level’ (Jonathan Romney, Screen Daily), ‘The Ordinaries’ is an insightful dissection of human society, unafraid to lay bare the mechanisms of exclusion which propel it. Set in a world inhabited by the Main Characters straight out of a 50’s musical, Supporting Characters living in Brutalist suburbs, and Outtakes (censored ones, black-and-whites, miscasts, jump-cutters, etc) ghettoized on the outskirts of an Institution-controlled city, this dystopian dramedy can be simply viewed as a meditation on cinema, its rules and ways to break them, subverting the predetermined contrivances. In exploring both the film medium and the class discrepancies, Linnenbaum opts for easily recognizable references, thus making her work accessible to casual viewers and experienced movie-buffs alike. Her Pleasantville-inspired vision may not be revolutionary, but it is wonderfully realized by virtue of highly sympathetic heroine (Fine Sendel), exquisite production design, handsome framing, taut editing, and wittily employed music. (An extra point for a talking Lassie cameo.)

11. Mortal Kombat Legends: Cage Match (Ethan Spaulding, 2023)

Arguably the finest animated feature in ‘Mortal Kombat Legends’ series, ‘Cage Match’ is also one of the most loving homages to the 80’s pop-culture, with its Patrick Nagel-inspired artwork, ‘Miami Vice’ vibes, and synth-heavy score coalescing into both aurally and visually colorful action fantasy whose metafilmic moment involves Jennifer Grey of ‘Dirty Dancing’ fame.

12. Вельд (Назим Туляходжаев, 1987) / The Veldt (Nazim Tulyahodzhayev, 1987)

Irresistibly bizarre, and pervaded by a strong sense of despair that corresponds with the present time, ‘The Veldt’ marks the feature debut for Uzbek (then Soviet) filmmaker Nazim Tulyahodzhayev. An adaptation of Ray Bradburry’s short story of the same name, it blends in motifs from other of his writings into a disjointed, yet intriguing, at times broodingly poetic narrative transcended by the oppressively immersive atmosphere. The film’s bleakly beautiful visuals of washed-out and sepia-tinged colors seem to be inspired by ‘Dead Man’s Letters’ released only a year earlier, and are perfectly suited for the post-apocalyptic setting in which the bioorganic walls of a nursery room act as portals to virtual reality, and the (alien?) doppelgängers of the beloved dead are disposed off by squads in hazmat suits. Emphasizing the dreadfulness of it all are synth-heavy portions of the hauntingly unnerving score that portends tragedy as the outcome of holding on to happy memories for too long, or alienating oneself through technological escapism.

13. Kyūketsu dokuro-sen / The Living Skeleton (Hiroki Matsuno, 1968)

The second of only two films under the helm of Hiroki Matsuno, ‘The Living Skeleton’ is an obscure piece of Japanese gothic noir high on pulp content, beautifully captured in expressive B&W, and shrouded in a bizarre aural tapestry that marks composer Noboru Nishiyama’s swan song, occasionally giving off some Spaghetti Western vibes! Although it lacks in an actual living skeleton – there’s only a bunch of immobile (and unrealistic ones) chained to the sea bottom, the film delivers other genre goodies, such as a ghost ship veiled in fog, vengeance from beyond the grave (or is it?), necrophilic priest twist, and bodies melting in acid. Densely atmospheric for most of its running time, and in the final third, outrageously campy, it also features hokey bats on strings flying around like some crazy red herrings, and seems pretty bold (as in ‘a freighter massacre prologue’ bold) for its time, finding its anchor in swell central performances, as well as in versatile direction.

14. Через тернии к звёздам (Ричард Викторов, 1981) / To the Stars by Hard Ways (Richard Viktorov, 1981)

(watched the 20th anniversary cut by director’s son Nikolai Viktorov)

Appearing as if she time-traveled from the distant future to the early 1980’s, Yelena Metyolkina is a perfect casting choice for a humanoid alien created through genetic engineering, with her unorthodox beauty often glorified or even fetishized through the lens of Aleksandr Rybin and Shandor Berkeshi (restoration). In other words, her very screen presence is so strong, and her character so wonderfully outworldly, that she is the reason enough to give the film a try. Flawed, yet fascinating, ‘To the Stars by Hard Ways’ aka ‘Per Aspera Ad Astra’ opts for epic proportions, cramming in a plethora of topics of ethical, ecological, emotional and political concerns in its two hour running time, which is often reflected in tonal inconsistency. In turns high-brow, campy, cartoonish, philosophical and experimental, it takes the viewer from the 23rd century Earth to the fictitious planet of Dessa, successfully setting both utopian and dystopian societies against the Brutalist architecture. Although its ideological context is excised in 2001 cut, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist degree to recognize it in the anti-corporate sentiment of the final third which anticipates Lopushansky’s masterful debut ‘Dead Man’s Letters’ in certain sepia-toned sequences. Somewhat quaint (and delightful at that!) in its 60’s and 70’s-inspired aesthetics, Viktorov’s highly ambitious feature is a neat treat for those who love their sci-fi weirder than usual.

15. Elvira Madigan (Bo Widerberg, 1967)

“To borrow another person’s eyes... to experience the world as your beloved sees it and feels it. Isn’t that what love is?”

The anti-war sentiment and free love philosophy of the 60’s counterculture movement densely permeate Widerberg’s period drama (and director’s first color film) based on a short-lived affair between slackrope dancer Elvira Madigan (born Hedvig Jensen, 1867-1889) and dragoon lieutenant Sixten Sparre (1854-1889). Somewhat naive in its hyper-romanticism dangerously close to slipping into self-parody, and accentuated by Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, K. 467, ‘Elvira Madigan’ is gorgeously photographed, every frame imbued with painterly qualities. However, it is not all poetic, ‘fingers and raspberries dipped in thick cream’ rapture, because the opening epigraph informs us of a murder-suicide fate of star-crossed lovers, so the dark clouds incessantly loom over the bright, bucolic imagery elevated by Pia Degermark and Thommy Berggren’s strong chemistry and pleasant screen presence.

16. No One Will Save You (Brian Duffield, 2023)

I have a very soft spot for (almost or completely) wordless films, especially when the absence of dialogue is not a mere gimmick, but it actually makes sense, as in Duffield’s sophomore directorial effort. A follow-up to his explosive coming-of-age extravaganza ‘Spontaneous’, ‘No One Will Save You’ comes across like ‘Home Alone’ during ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ set in ‘A Quiet Place’, not because one must remain silent, but rather for having nobody to talk to. Proudly wearing all of the influences on its sleeve, this home + alien invasion flick is a rare example of ‘elevated horror’ that provides intense edge-of-the-seat excitement prior to revealing its metaphor-inscribed cards. Tropey and referential to its core, from the Roswell Greys-inspired designs for uninvited visitors, to a trauma-struck heroine, Brynn (wonderfully fleshed out by virtue of Kaitlyn Dever’s utter commitment to a demanding role), the film makes the most of the threadbare concepts, and is unafraid to tap into some deliberate silliness for the sake of fun that many recent genre-offerings have been drained off. Directed with aplomb and grounded in the arresting central performance, it explores the themes of estrangement, guilt, anxiety, and the nature of spectatorship, ending (openly?) on a sardonically optimistic note. It doesn’t revolutionize cinema, nor does it need to, but at least it doesn’t babble you into tedium.

17. Itim / The Rites of May (Mike de Leon, 1976)

A feature debut for director Mike de Leon, leading actress Charo Santos, and both cinematographers, Rody Lacap and Ely Cruz, ‘The Rites of May’ (original title literally translates as ‘black’) is a solid horror drama light on scares, but heavy on atmosphere, with superbly moody visuals that evoke European arthouse cinema of the time. Similarly to many genre offerings from Asia, it treats superstition with utmost seriousness, so it requires some extra effort in suspension of disbelief, and it hints at its twist too early, slowly threading to a predictable denouement...

18. Um Fio de Baba Escarlate / Name Above Title (Carlos Conceição, 2020)

A surrealistic, giallo-inspired experiment that utilizes zero dialogue and hyper-stylized visuals to satirize celebrity culture, with one actress playing all the victims, and overt religious symbolism literally hammering the message to the audience.

Honorable (short) mentions: Agnès Varda - Pier Paolo Pasolini - New York – 1967 (Agnès Varda, 2022) and Hymn to Persephone (Angelina Voskopoulou, 2023).