Best Premiere Viewings of April 2026

1. Los días perdidos / The Lost Days (Víctor Erice, 1963)

Shrouded in regret, melancholy permeates virtually every frame of Erice’s (exquisite!) student film shot during 1962-63 academic year. It inhabits the lingering shadows of the past; it extends the negative space beyond the frame; it trembles in the voice of the narrator protagonist, Isabel (Luisa Muñoz); it is reflected in the standing water after heavy rain, and it intensifies every gust of the wind blowing through a graveyard. Turned into its carriers are both diegetic noises and soft, moody jazz tunes, shyly interrupting the echoes of unsentimental silence, and acting as veils for the black and white imagery composed with a keen sense of blocking, and beautifully captured by cinematographer Fernando Arribas. And within these Antonioniesque visions which externalize Isabel’s inner world, words gradually dissolve and – stripped of their meanings – become the codes for deciphering the truths of human condition.

2. L’Étranger / The Stranger (François Ozon, 2025)

Manuel Dacosse – best known for his collaboration with cine-fetishists Hélène Cattet & Bruno Forzani – has to be one of the greatest cinematographers working today, his stunning monochrome lensing evoking the 60’s classics in François Ozon’s adaptation of Camus’s 1942 novella. Virtually every frame keeps you glued to the screen, capturing not only the impressive recreation of the period (kudos to production designer Katia Wyszkop of Nouvelle Vague fame), but also the all-encompassing indifference of the antihero, Meursault.

Portrayed with icy nonchalance by Benjamin Voisin, he is the complete stranger on his mother’s funeral, in a café he frequents, in every single relationship, be it with his lover or neighbors, and even to himself and in his own dreams, but he is also the handsome stranger whom the director is besotted with. This infatuation is – to a certain degree – transmitted to the viewer as well, making him at once charming and alienating, his apathy both fascinating and disquieting it its reflection of the ‘human’ society. And though my memories of the book are too vague and hazy (I read it approximately three decades ago, in high school), deep down I felt this translation to the medium of film to be exquisite, its cinematic qualities in fine balance with questions it raises, and ambiguities it leaves you with...

3. The Serpent’s Path (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2024)

They say revenge is best served cold, and Kurosawa’s protagonists add some extra ice in the French remake of the director’s own 1998 feature of the same name (yet to be seen), as they exact it against the secret ring of child and organ traffickers. Even yellow is drained of its warmth to fit the biting, calculated psychological ‘game’ they play, with the (recurring) themes of loneliness, alienation and depression imbuing the morally ambiguous exploration of psychosocial pathology. Kō Shibasaki is particularly transfixing in the role of an expatriate psychiatrist, Sayoko, her ostensible calmness and unwavering determination coming off as more dangerous than the scum of the earth whom she and her partner, Albert (Damien Bonnard, also great), are after. As precise as Kurosawa’s direction – at times, evocative of Haneke – her performance amplifies the ‘essential element’ that is mystery, lingering in the viewer’s mind long after the credits have rolled. Once again, the master of silent dread demonstrates his firm-handed command over the mise en scène, employing the physical space – a fertile ground for the aforementioned modern malaise – to visualize most if not all of the mental nooks and crannies.

4. Anta mujer / Such a Woman (Agustí Villaronga, 1976)

“Lift your fatigued body and submerge yourself in dreams that the immobility of time grants to you.”

Set to Carl Orff’s ‘Carmina Burana’ and narrated by ‘the voice of the sea’ (Núria Espert), the earliest short from Agustí Villaronga (In a Glass Cage, Moon Child) feels like an ascetic version of a Corkidi’s film also comparable to Garrel – an iconoclastic amalgam of pseudo-religious mysticism, and ritualistic performance art that is at once hermetic and immersive, especially if you’re in for an esoteric mythology. Revolving around a young woman who is promised to become a saint after accomplishing ‘Five Portents’, the formally austere ‘fantasy’ is shot with a keen eye for composition on some beautiful Catalonian locations, unfolding at a deliberate pace, as it pulls you into its primordial world...

5. Venusberg (Rolf Thiele, 1963)

“How difficult it is for girls nowadays...”

Seven young women gather in a mountain resort owned by a philandering gynecologist and their mutual friend/lover, Alphonse, sharing their perspective on relationships, and trying to figure out their way out of wasting their lives just to please their man (in certain cases, men). Although the naughty doctor is frequently mentioned, he is never to be seen, and the only male character who does appear remains in deep shadows, for Venusberg is exclusively femme-centric if not feminist feature.

As if directed by a woman, it does not slip into exploitation – the nudity, its dose higher than expected from a 1963 offering, is not gratuitous but subtle, and the frequent closeups of actresses’ glamorously beautiful faces, albeit as eye-pleasing as it gets, serve as insights into the protagonists’ mental and emotional states. One of the guests, Florentine (portrayed by fatally attractive Marisa Mell) lends the film an aura of mystery, her unexplained arrivals and departures – complemented by a bizarre anecdote and reverse psychologizing – giving off strong ‘empowerment embodied’ vibes. Thiele’s stylish direction evokes the modernist tendencies of the time, and finds a great match in both Wolf Wirth’s stunning B&W lensing and Rolf A. Wilhelm’s odd, jazzily probing score.

6. All You Need Is Kill (Ken’ichirō Akimoto & Yukinori Nakamura, 2025)

Ever since the cult omnibus Memories from 1995, Studio 4°C has been synonymous with stylish animation, and the latest addition to their impressive catalog is no exception. Based on Hiroshi Sakurazaka’s novel of the same name – previously adapted into live-action feature Edge of Tomorrow in 2014 – All You Need Is Kill can be described as Groundhog Day with a Lovecraftian twist by way of a video game set on the frustratingly high difficulty.

Stuck in a time loop during an alien invasion is a young United Defense Force soldier, Rita Vrataski, whose perspective on life is challenged by both the monsters, and an encounter with a fellow sufferer, Keiji Kiriya, with whom she joins forces to break free from the time trap. Her and later, their efforts against a mysterious tree, Darol, that sprouts murderous creatures (a metaphor for today’s governments and their subordinates?) are presented as an exploration of loneliness, blending science fiction, action and mystery to exciting effect. The noticeable tonal shifts in the feature’s second half may be viewed as slightly hampering, but the artists make sure that the levels of visual goodness – unusual angular artwork beautifully matched by psychedelic color palette – never drop. Their snappily edited and aesthetically refined imagery more than compensates for the narrative foibles, complementing first-timers Akimoto and Nakamura’s slick, fast-paced direction.

7. Господин оформитель / Mister Designer (Oleg Teptsov, 1987)

One of the most visually arresting pieces of late Soviet cinema, Mister Designer can be dubbed a gothic, psychosexual melodrama dipped in a potent concoction of the Pygmalion myth, Baudelairean decadence, and oneiric symbolism of Odilon Redon whose work is explicitly referenced in the artwork attributed to the leading character, Platon Andreyevich. Portrayed by Viktor Avilov, his roughly chiseled face appearing like an unholy blend of Vlad the Impaler, David Carradine and (art historian/filmmaker) Đorđe Kadijević, with hints of Donald Sutherland, he is a tortured, morphine-abusing artist striving to unveil the secret of eternal life through the creation of realistic mannequins in pre-WWI Russia. Light (and puzzling) on plot, but heavy on atmosphere or rather, dreamlike irrationality akin to giallo, this feature marks Oleg Teptsov’s stylistically daring debut, its extraordinary art direction married to a bizarre anachronistic score, ranging from playfully dissonant to ethereally sinister aural ‘ambushes’. A meditation on artistic obsession and metaphysical decay, the film may also be read as a quest for beauty, and though it leaves its horror potential largely unrealized, it is one of those obscure and bizarre curios that the arthouse crowd must check out.

8. Johnny 316 aka Hollywood Salome (Erick Ifergan, 1998)

High on ethereal vulnerability in her first and only big screen appearance, model Nina Brosh plays or rather, channels through a sort of a haze, a jobless hairdresser, Sally, who wanders around Hollywood Boulevard, and desperately falls for a handsome preacher, Johnny (Vincent Gallo, bringing a subversion-wrapped blend of emotional detachment and self-professed piousness to the role) in the feature debut from Morocco-born French director Erick Ifergan. Loosely based on Oscar Wilde’s one-act play ‘Salome’, the film feels like a no wave revival by way of the 90’s MTV (no surprise, given the author’s background in music videos), with mockumentary bits thrown in for good measure, exploring the erosion of spirituality, the impossibility of (true) love, and a futile quest for human connection.

Both of the leading characters are portrayed as lost, tortured souls who do not belong to the ‘wildlife’ of Los Angeles, simultaneously attracted to and repelled from each other, as their wounds keep growing, with a plethora of (beautiful!) close-ups striving to capture the nuances of their innermost workings. The intimizing intrusiveness of the camera, with another firsttimer, Toby Irwin, behind it, significantly contributes to the establishing of a dense, claustrophobic mood which marks the main forte of Johnny 316, complemented by a dissonant, broodingly trippy soundtrack. Lending it some extra gravitas are two veterans, Louise Fletcher and Seymour Cassel, in supporting parts as Sally’s mother, and good-natured store vendor, respectively.

9. They Will Kill You (Kirill Sokolov, 2026)

Kirill Sokolov demonstrated a great sense of black humor in his 2018 debut Why Don’y You Just Die? made in his native Russia, and it translates pretty well to his third – or first English-spoken – feature that doesn’t revolutionize neither of the neatly blended (sub)genres, but it is one hell of a crowdpleaser! Playing a familiar, yet immensely entertaining riff on a class struggle, it pits a young woman with the turbulent past, Asia Reaves (portrayed by charismatic Zazie Beetz), against a mysterious community of the rich attended by Patricia Arquette’s sinister character, Lily Woodhouse, and living in a luxurious NYC apartment building of the telling name, Virgil. But, the less you know about the film, the better, so I won’t reveal any more details of the plot, and just add that production designer Jeremy Reed (Gretel & Hansel) and the trio of art directors must’ve had a brilliant chemistry on the set, with DoP Isaac Bauman beautifully capturing the splatter action – likely inspired by anime – with his dynamic camerawork. Also commendable is the propulsive soundtrack and this comes from someone who is not a big fan of rap music, but still enjoys the rock-punkish brand by Nova Twins whose single Cleopatra accompanies one of the decisive battles. This is pulpy cinema at its most mood-lifting!

10. La città proibita / The Forbidden City (Gabriele Mainetti, 2025)

After debuting with a down-to-earth / anti-spectacle deconstruction of a superhero subgenre, then playing a ‘freaky’ anti-fascist riff on The Wizard of Oz in his WWII-set sophomore feature, Mainetti returns with a bold if uneven blend of martial arts actioner, gangster flick and romance imbued with social commentary. A simple tale of revenge is in equal measures pulpy and stylish, following an unlikely couple of a Chinese girl, Mei (Yaxi Liu), looking for her sister, and a restaurant cook, Marcello (Enrico Borello), whose indebted father has eloped with his much younger lover (guess who), fighting their way through the underbelly of Rome.

Add a triad – running a restaurant that shares its name with the film’s title and acts as a cover for  human trafficking – to the mix, as well as an immigrant-exploiting mafioso with hots for our hero’s mother, and you have a modern B-movie that lacks no charm even when outstaying its welcome. (The film’s 2+ hour running time may repel some viewers.) Its main attraction are hard-hitting, well-choreographed fighting sequences in which Liu proves to be a superb choice for a ‘one woman army’ type of heroine, and Mainetti demonstrates his familiarity with the Eastern counterparts, i.e. sources of inspiration, delivering some memorable set pieces. (And the same goes for the melodramatic bits.) Although his genre-juggling is not exactly a prime example of virtuosity, the director does it with gusto, earning extra points, and solidifying his position of an adventurous filmmaker.

Also, The Forbidden City absolutely beats Weapons when it comes to the grater utilization!

11. Party Girl (Daisy von Scherler Mayer, 1995)

Oddly charming in its pronounced quirkiness and easygoing queerness, the feature debut from Daisy von Scherler Mayer is unafraid to be wacky, messy, absurd, awkward, and oh-so-deliciously campy, in a certain way reflecting the character of its heroine Mary (Parker Posey, seemingly having some serious fun in her role). Partying her way to a librarian position in a groovy coming-of-age farce set against the NYC nightclub scene, she effortlessly earns her (and the film’s) title, and wins the heart of both the viewer and a handsome Lebanese teacher who works as a falafel vendor, Mustafa (Omar Townsend, coolly charismatic in his only screen appearance). Her energy – often channeled into different directions at once – parallels the very vibes of Party Girl that now operates as a whimsical, lighthearted time capsule to the 90’s, perfectly aware of its funky looseness, and fashionable abandon.

12. How to Live (Njoroge Muthoni, 2025)

“I think that is the joy that I seek, to not be afraid of the world, nor myself... When I think about my joy, I think about the freedom to change, actually. To be everything all at once. To be multiple, to be excess, to be a flood, to always overflow, to be too much, too dramatic, flowery...” (multidisciplinary artist Kuln’zu)

My first contact with Kenyan visual artist Njoroge Muthoni was his inspiring photographic work which led to a 2019 collaboration on Minus Zodiac, a twelve-piece series of ‘astrological’ collages based around his nude models. In the meantime, he has created a few shorts, and directed his first feature How to Live – a bold if flawed documentary on Nairobi’s burgeoning queer scene.

Brimming with energy – at times, posing a real challenge in channeling and sustaining within the decidedly loose, even punkish structure – the film is a vivid exploration of body, identity, solidarity and resistance through ‘joie de vivre’ shared by the members of a tight-knit community. Young and, above all, determined people who express themselves through art and/or (ballroom) performance proudly and gleefully defy the societal constraints, writing the extravagant history of gender fluidity. Their intertwining experiences and the accompanying statements are captured with utmost sincerity and transparency by Muthoni’s frequently moving camera, making sure that the segments with ‘talking heads’ never feel dull. As a connective tissue, the director utilizes minimalist ‘vogue’ vignettes depicting some of the participants, and acting as additional invitations to acceptance and tolerance. Although rough around the edges (and belonging to the genre this writer is not a big fan of), How to Live is a solid calling card for its author.

Honorable mention: Search for Beauty (Erle C. Kenton, 1934)

A missing precursor-link between Leni Riefenstahl’s Olympia and the Youth Day spectacle in Yugoslavia, Symphony of Health marks the most impressive portion of Search for Beauty – a goofy, not to mention horny pre-code comedy. Featuring dozens of Beauty Contest winners from English-speaking countries, this ‘symphony’ is an elaborately staged parade of men and women in swimwear promoting physical prowess for the fictional ‘Health and Exercise’ magazine – likely a parody of Bernarr Macfadden’s publications of the early 20th century.

Snappily directed by Erle C. Kenton, best known for H. G. Wells’ adaptation Island of Lost Souls, it stars 16-yo Ida Lupino in her American debut (thankfully, pretty innocent), and Olympic champion turned actor Buster Crabbe as a couple of athletes tricked by a trio of con artists into selling ‘sex’ under the guise of a health periodical. The feature marks one of the earliest examples of exploitation flicks, its raciness becoming overt at the very beginning, with Gertrude Michael as Jean Strange checking out Crabbe’s bulging crotch through her binoculars, while dropping: “Ooh, baby, you can come to Mama!” Adding up to the naughty (and predominantly homoerotic) antics is some unabashed rear nudity in a male locker-room, and lines such as “as far as I’m concerned, outdoors, indoors and behind doors” spouted during the exchange of beefcake photos in a hair salon. It’s a curious little romp that may lift one’s mood, though its boldness, suggestiveness, and the humorous chemistry of James Gleason and Robert Armstrong duo are rarely matched by its artistic quality.

Best Premiere Viewings of April 2025

FEATURES

1. Myth of Man (Jamin Winans, 2025)

“Let me take you by the hand,

Away from here, to another land...”

(The Cranberries / Put Me Down)

Another land – an incredible and mystical one at that – is exactly where Jamin Winans (Ink, The Frame) takes the viewer with his third fiction feature, reviving your sense of childlike wonder, and excelling in the world building department. A passion project years in the making, Myth of Man is the director’s finest offering to date – aesthetically compelling, whimsically playful, and emotionally resonant, it washes over you like a soft wave of the purest dreams that don’t need to be analyzed to be cherished. Told or rather shown from the perspective of its deaf-mute heroine credited as Ella (Laura Rauch, gently creating one of the most adorable and humane characters to hit the screen recently), it completely eschews words in favor of images and music, coming across as a modern silent film. Exploring the timeless themes of love, loss, death, and firm belief in what you do (especially if it’s art), this delightfully quirky steampunk fantasy transcends the genre confines in its becoming of sublime audio-visual experience. More marvelous than anything Marvel and other big studios have been hyper-producing, Myth of Man blends live-action, SFX, and animation on a less-than-1-million budget, in a way that you can almost sense the pulsing of its authors’ souls.

Recommended as a companion piece to Amélie (2001), MirrorMask (2005) and/or La Antena (2007).

2. Bushidō muzan / The Tragedy of Bushido (Eitarō Morikawa, 1960)

An impressive showcase of formidable formal talents, The Tragedy of Bushido is sadly the only feature helmed by writer/director Eitarō Morikawa. Drawing parallels between the draconian ‘way of the warrior’ and the unforgiving corporate system of post-WWII Japan (or capitalism, in general), it thematizes loyalty, honor, and sacrifice through a provocative melodrama giving off some Greek tragedy vibes. A tale of a teen boy (played with stoic intensity by then 21-yo Junichiro Yamashita) forced to commit ‘seppuku’ for his late lord is expressively lensed by another debutant, cinematographer Takao Kawarazaki, its B&W gorgeousness masterfully complemented by a dreamlike, mystery-evoking score from Riichirō Manabe. Morikawa elicits remarkable performances from his entire cast, demonstrating a deep understanding of cinematic language, as well as a keen sense of suspense.

3. Io la conoscevo bene / I Knew Her Well (Antonio Pietrangeli, 1965)

“Trouble is, she likes everything. She’s always happy. She desires nothing, envies no one, is curious about nothing. You can’t surprise her. She doesn’t notice the humiliations, though they happen to her every day. It all rolls off her back like off some waterproof material. Zero ambition. No moral code. Not even a whore’s love of money. Yesterday and tomorrow don’t exist for her. Even living for today would mean too much planning, so she lives for the moment. Sunbathing, listening to records, and dancing are her sole activities. The rest of the time she’s mercurial and capricious, always needing brief new encounters with anyone at all... just never with herself.”

This elaborate, if unflattering description of the film’s protagonist – a naive country girl, Adriana – comes from the lips of a moody writer (krimi-regular Joachim Fuchsberger), one of many men she gets involved with on her way to the stars, and the only one who takes away from the irony of the title. A magnificent starring vehicle for Stefania Sandrelli supported by the likes of Mario Adorf, Jean-Claude Brialy and Franco Nero, I Knew Her Well feels much like a spiritual successor to Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, exposing (and condemning) the superficiality of showbiz, and its effects on unsuspecting victims, all the while addressing the evils of a capitalist machinery. Its fragmented structure is tailor-made for depicting of Adriana’s carefree life, each episode working like a charm that turns this young woman strangely and increasingly captivating, in spite of her flaws. She is adored by Armando Nannuzzi’s camera that captures all the subtleties of her freewheeling nature, and elevates her beyond an object that she is in the eyes of various ‘predators’, into a vulnerable human being desperately searching for a meaningful connection. A diversified soundtrack that acts like a time capsule of the 60’s popular music, beautifully complementing the stark B&W imagery, adds more nuances to her not fully graspable character.

4. Kyūba no koibito / Cuban Lover (Kazuo Kuroki, 1969)

Released between Silence Has No Wings and Evil Spirits of Japan, both highly recommended, Cuban Lover commemorates the 10th anniversary of the Cuban Revolution, combining a romance and travelogue with archive footage of Castro’s and Guevara’s speeches. The film’s deliberately meandering tale chronicles the road trip of a young, aimless Japanese sailor, Akira (Masahiko Tsugawa, charmingly assertive), making advances to chiquitas (when ome exquisite use of POV shots comes into play) until he encounters Marcia (Obdulia Plasencia, superb in her only screen appearance) and falls head over hills for her. Following her around the country, he learns of its turbulent recent past, but is oft-left to his own devices, as the girl doesn’t seem too keen to abandon her post-revolutionary ideals for love. Their awkward relationship operates as a guerrilla-counterpart of the one from Resnais’s 1959 masterpiece Hiroshima, Mon Amour, leaving plenty of room for the reflection on the struggle for freedom and equality. The camerawork by the great Tatsuo Suzuki who would later frequently collaborate with Shūji Terayama, also working on feature offerings from Toshio Matsumoto (Funeral Parade of Roses, Dogura Magura), captures a specific time in history with such an inviting flair that one gets the impression of being there. Adding to the authenticity of the experience is the selection of popular songs intertwined with Teizō Matsumura’s euphonious, harp-heavy score.

5. Die Sünderin / The Sinner (Willi Forst, 1951)

Controversial or rather, scandalous for its time (and place), The Sinner is a tautly directed melodrama told in retrospective by (luminous!) Hildegard Knef who portrays a former party girl/street walker involved with an unsuccessful painter (Gustav Fröhlich, superb) diagnosed with a brain tumor. Described as ‘a masochistic romantic fantasy’ by Jeff Stafford (Cinema Soujourns), it features incestuous prostitution, a lesbian kiss, brief (and tastefully done) nudity, as well as a mercy kill, inter alia, which is why it caused such an uproar in moralistic circles, and had screenings interrupted by clergical stink bombs. Beautifully shot in velvety B&W married to an ellegiac score that amps up emotions, the film brings a feverishly poetic, if overwrought tale of idealized, death-defying love, exploring the themes of self-sacrifice, perseverance, and (ennobling) suffering, with both the director’s and the viewer’s sympathies lying with its ‘sinful’ heroine. 

6. Siraa Fil-Wadi / The Blazing Sun (Youssef Chahine, 1954)

A film that launched Omar Sharif into stardom on the native Egyptian soil, The Blazing Sun is a soaring melodrama skillfully blended with the crime genre, and outspoken in its criticism of the authorities. Social realist at heart, it portrays a ‘forbidden’ romance against the backdrop of unfortunate events caused by greed, powerblindness, and disregard of progress. Its tale of (in)justice is as timeless and universal as it gets, with Chahine’s sympathies drawn toward the working folks idealized through Sharif’s character, Ahmed, a young engineer who introduces new methods for improving the production of sugar cane to the fellow villagers. Emphasizing his hero’s virtuous nature, the director pits him against an unscrupulous land owner, Taher Pasha, and his even more malicious nephew, Riad Bay, whose archetypal villainy is rooted in reality much deeper than it may initially appear. Zaki Rostom and Farid Shawqi, respectively, effortlessly slide into the roles of sleazeballs that one loves to hate. Embodying advance and modernity is Ahmed’s sweetheart and Pasha’s own daughter, Amal (Sharif’s future wife Faten Hamama, stellar), who’s given an emotional load as heavy as that of her lover, and she admirably endures. Further elevating the feature is the excellent choice of locations, particularly in the suspenseful finale, and Ahmed Khorshed’s arresting, noir-like cinematography, its high contrasts mirroring the class struggle at display. 

7. Az ötödik pecsét / The Fifth Seal (Zoltán Fábri, 1976)

A watchmaker, a carpenter, and a book seller sit in a bar, and chat with its owner, when a stranger walks in. It may sound like the beginning of a bad joke, but the time and place – 1944, Budapest – suggest something much more sinister. One topic leads to another, and then, the watchmaker (Lajos Öze, brilliant!) tells a story of a tyrant and a slave, asking his buddies a hypothetical question which will haunt not only them, but the viewer as well, long after the film has ended. Dubbed ‘a spiky political cabaret of cruelty and fear’ by Peter Bradshaw for Guardian, The Fifth Seal occupies a morally ambiguous zone, exposing hypocrisy as innate to human nature, and providing an intoxicating concoction of religious, political and philosophical musings that put you into a state of disquietude... or heighten your awareness of already being there. It often feels as if it could work as a stage play, but there are certain camera movements, and sequences, such as the Bosch-inspired surrealistic hallucination, and not to mention the epilogue, that reassure us the cinema is where this bleak, anti-fascist narrative belongs.

8. Orfeu Negro / Black Orpheus (Marcel Camus, 1959)

Largely set in the heightened reality of Afro-Brazilian favela during the Carnival in Rio de Janeiro, the bossa nova adaptation of the Orpheus myth bursts with colors, oozes with passion, and overflows with energy, making for one of the most kinetic pieces of the 50’s cinema. Borderline delirious, and deliciously campy in its naivety, it utilizes dance as the primary means of expression, hypnotizing you with its infectious rhythms, as it reaches for the primordial essence of your being. Call me crazy, but I recommend it double billed with Emil Loteanu’s musical melodrama Queen of the Gypsies.

9. Les salauds vont en enfer / The Wicked Go to Hell (Robert Hossein, 1955)

In Robert Hossein’s directorial debut which marks my third encounter with his oeuvre, a prison break drama gradually transforms into a revenge flick, with the destruction of earthly paradise marking the turning point. Ravishingly enigmatic Marina Vlady – then the author’s wife – jumps into the role of a (righteously!) fatal young woman, Eva, her name highly symbolic, as she faces the threat in the form of two escaped convicts played by Henri Vidal (Pierre) and Serge Reggiani (Lucien). Hossein’s father André – French composer of Iranian Azerbaijani origin – provides a propulsive score for what can be labeled as a dissection of men’s evil captured in attention-grabbing B&W by DoP Michel Kelber.

10. Art College 1994 (Jian Liu, 2023)

Let me begin by saying that I’m not a big fan of dialogue-heavy films, and yet the third (and arguably finest) feature from Jian Liu (Piercing I, Have a Nice Day) had me immersed in its endless, philosophically-tinged talks on art, life, love and the possibilities of the future, all permeated by tension between traditionalism and modernity / the East and the West / conformism and self-expression. Its four protagonists – a group of art students at the unnamed academy in mid-90’s / reforming China – may often bite more than they can chew with their choices, yet they all feel relatable or at least sympathetic in one way or another, evoking the early days of adulthood with de-sentimentalized nostalgia. Rendered in retro-style rotoscoped visuals of gloomy, de-saturated colors that reflect their (confused) inner states, with some of the supporting characters voiced by acclaimed filmmakers such as Bi Gan and Jia Zhang-ke, Art College 1994 ranks among the grungiest pieces of Chinese cinema, and not only because its ruminative, long-haired hero Zhang Xiaojun keeps his walkman charged with Nirvana cassettes. Simultaneously anachronistic and timeless, thought-provoking and slackerish, this film is one bitter cup of tea, quite pleasing if you sip it as deliberately as it is paced.

11. The Intruder (David Bailey, 1999)

A silky, sax-heavy jazz score (by Haim Frank Ilfman) appears to be in command of not only the dreamy or rather, drowsy atmosphere which this slightly trippy neo-noir / urban gothic / psychological drama is soaked in, but also of the smooth, leisurely pace, as well as performances that often have an ASMR effect to them. The entire cast, especially Nastassja Kinski, is well-attuned to Charlotte Gainsbourg, brilliantly low-key in the leading role of a woman, Catherine, who experiences strange phenomena after marrying and moving in with a widower, Nick (Charles Edwin Powell). Is she imagining things or is she being gaslighted? Could it be the ghost of the dead wife that haunts her, or is the past parallel to the present, as hinted at in the opening, causing frequent power outages in the building, and materializing the mysterious intruder? Finding answers in the claustrophobic environment of modern, austerely and coldly elegant apartments is made more difficult by dense, foreboding shadows of Jean Lépine’s meticulous cinematography, elevating the film even in its wacky, tonally questionable conclusion. 

12. Le foto proibite di una signora per bene / The Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion (Luciano Ercoli, 1970)

A pretty stylish giallo that eschews body count in favor of blackmailing and gaslighting, Luciano Ercoli’s directorial debut revolves around Minou (Dagmar Lassander, her pulchritude matched by an above-average performance) – a struggling businessman’s wife coerced into a sadistic relationship with a mysterious man (Simón Andreu, believably threatening) in possession of compromising info on her husband. Lassander is rivaled by Nieves Navarro (credited under the moniker Susan Scott) portraying her scene-stealing bestie Dominique, both ladies often appearing as if they wandered off a photo-session promoting the fashionable costumes by Gloria Cardi. Set designs are equally alluring in their groovy color combinations, quirky decor, and moody lighting, all neatly framed by DoP Alejandro Ulloa who previously collaborated with Fulci on One on Top of the Other (1969), with Ennio Morricone composing an appropriately sultry score. There’s a fine balance between (s)exploitation, melodrama, psychological tension, and subgenre-specific irrationality  achieved here, making for a worthwhile viewing. 

13. Ash (Flying Lotus, 2025)

Musician turned filmmaker Flying Lotus (born Steven Ellison) returns with a sophomore feature that threads the familiar territory of space-set horror, initially operating like a psychological thriller, only to deliver some bonkers Hidden-Alien-Thing goods in the final third. For most of the running time, the narrative rests on the shoulders of Eiza González (solid) as an amnesiac astronaut, Riya, with Aaron Paul as her colleague Brion amplifying her paranoia, and Iko Uwais, Kate Elliott, Beulah Koale, and director himself providing support in the flashbacks. As pulpy as B-movies get, Ash – a nickname for the planet K.O.I.-442 where the small crew of ‘terraformers’ is stationed – seduces the viewer with its colorful, psychedelic, hyper-stylized visuals somewhat reminiscent of Nicolas Winding Refn and Panos Cosmatos, enhancing the primarily sensorial experience with a brooding to throbbing, and at one point, giallo-esque score. There’s also a quirky treat for the Japanophiles in the form of a so-called Medbot – a scan & surgery robot that speaks in a dulcet female voice with a thick Japanese accent.

14. In the Lost Lands (Paul W.S. Anderson, 2025)

“Down with the Overlord! Down with the Church!”

Maybe it’s my soft spot for Milla Jovovich, or a simple fact that I don’t remember ever seeing a witch and a werewolf in a duel, but I really enjoyed the latest flick from Paul W.S. Anderson. Pulpy to the bone marrow, and in a way evocative of something Albert Pyun might’ve conceived in his heyday, ‘In the Lost Lands’ is a flashy, if overly familiar B-movie mélange of a post-apocalyptic western, steampunk-by-way-of-medieval fantasy, and monster-beating action delivered in a glossy, video-gamey package. Ms Jovovich – Anderson’s wife and muse of the last sixteen years – plays a cursed sorceress, Gray Alys, whose abilities are deemed devil-sent by The Patriarch and his sect of faux-crusaders seeking to seize the power from the dying, yet still feared Overlord, and his scheming Queen. The enslaved (miners) see her as a potential leader of a revolution – another reason she is marked as the most painful thorn in the fundamentalists’ side. Tasked by the Queen to find a dangerous shapeshifter, she joins forces with a lonesome gunslinger, Boyce (Dave Bautista), as her guide, and together they set across the titular wastelands where the director deftly applies ‘the rule of cool’ on everything from the slow-motion sequences to the world building of his post-modernist fairy tale. There’s even a certain ‘campy poetry’ and esotericism (!) to be found here, captured in deliberately scorched visuals of dirty sepia tones and grayish blues befitting of the setting, with the (overused) ‘diffraction spikes’ effect creating an almost dreamlike vibe.

SHORTS

1. El-Fallâh el-fasîh / The Eloquent Peasant (Chadi Abdel Salam, 1970)

Primarily an art director, Chadi Abdel Salam (1930-1986) helmed only two films – a brilliant, atmospheric drama Al-mummia (The Mummy), and this short masterpiece, both starring Ahmed Marei. Based on a text from the Middle Kingdom period of ancient Egypt, The Eloquent Peasant – originally, a combination of a poem and morality tale – follows a simple, wrongly accused man whose kind words open even the iron door, anticipating an old Serbian proverb. His well-spoken reaching of justice is gorgeously framed in academy ratio, with historically accurate costume and set designs evoking Jerzy Kawalerowicz’s 1966 epic Pharaoh, and the minimalist, wind-swept score by Gamil Soliman synergizing with earthy tones of Mustafa Imam’s inspired cinematography. 

2. Žena, růže, skřítek, zlost / A Woman, A Rose, A Goblin And Anger (Antonín Horák, 1969)

Various toys and trinkets come to life in one of the most bizarre pieces of stop-motion animation to come from Czech Republic (Czechoslovakia back in the days). A hyper-surrealist (or rather, dadaist?) fantasy, this 10-minute short is a non-stop barrage of puzzling visual weirdness complemented by a mystery-intensifying music into something that probably puts a curse on the viewer who doesn’t appreciate it. The stuff that the most fragmented of feverish dreams are made of.

3. Muse (Paweł Pawlikowski, 2025)

Starring model and actress Małgorzata Bela as Muse, and Marcin Masecki as Pianist, the latest offering from Paweł Pawlikowski (Ida) is a dialogue-free ode to the joy of creation; an expressive, sumptuously shot B&W short in which the titular mythological character is challenged by the artist’s mood swings, evoking the spirit(s) of early, noir and post-modernist cinema through her ‘haute couture’ transformations.

Best Premiere Viewings of 2024 (Modern Cinema Edition)

Featuring everything but the kitchen sink of post-2000 cinema - predominantly 2023 and 2024 releases - that I was introduced to during this year, the following list encompasses a wide variety of genres and subgenres, ranging from f-rated body horror and cyberpunk animation, to an African folklore-inspired drama and martial arts extravaganzas, to boldly erotic queer flicks and the first adaptation of Bulgakov's masterpiece novel The Master and Margarita that I could sit through without any regrets. And let's not forget a deeply personal project of delightfully chaotic nature, a zero-fucks-given experiment in eye-popping visuals, and a triumphant return from the retirement by the legendary Hayao Miyazaki. Mini-reviews for the great majority of these films can be read through monthly compilations - January / February / March / April / May / June / July / August / September / October / November / December.

1. The Substance (Coralie Fargeat, 2024)

2. Poor Things (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2023)

3. Mami Wata (C.J. 'Fiery' Obasi, 2023)

4. Mars Express (Jérémie Périn, 2023)

5. The Zone of Interest (Jonathan Glazer, 2023)

6. She Is Conann (Bertrand Mandico, 2023)

7. Chłopi / The Peasants (DK Welchman & Hugh Welchman, 2023)

8. La bête / The Beast (Bertrand Bonello, 2023)

9. The Return (Uberto Pasolini, 2024)
10. He bian de cuo wu / Only the River Flows (Wei Shujun, 2023)

11. Chime (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2024)
12. Jiu Long cheng zhai - Wei cheng / Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In (Soi Cheang, 2024)

13. Megalopolis (Francis Ford Coppola, 2024)

14. Someone from Nowhere (Prabda Yoon, 2017)

15. Kurak Günler / Burning Days (Emin Alper, 2022)

16. Banel e Adama / Banel & Adama (Ramata-Toulaye Sy, 2023)

17. The Girl with the Fork (Ignacio Maiso, 2024)

18. Rumours (Guy Maddin, Evan Johnson & Galen Johnson, 2024)

19. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (George Miller, 2024)

20. Sirocco et le royaume des courants d'air / Sirocco and the Kingdom of the Winds (Benoît Chieux, 2023)

21. Vermiglio (Maura Delpero, 2024)

22. The Shadow Strays (Timo Tjahjanto, 2024)

23. La Chimera (Alice Rohrwacher, 2023)

24. All of Us Strangers (Andrew Haigh, 2023)

25. Once Within a Time (Godfrey Reggio & Jon Kane, 2022)

26. Aurora’s Sunrise (Inna Sahakyan, 2022)

27. Dead Whisper (Conor Soucy, 2024)

28. Eileen (William Oldroyd, 2023)

29. Sayyedat al-Bahr / Scales (Shahad Ameen, 2019)

30. Kimitachi wa Dō Ikiru ka / The Boy and the Heron (Hayao Miyazaki, 2023)

31. AGGRO DR1FT (Harmony Korine, 2023)

32. Femme (Sam H. Freeman & Ng Choon Ping, 2023)

33. Caché / Hidden (Michael Haneke, 2005)

34. Sanctuary (Zachary Wigon, 2022)

35. Мастер и Маргарита (Михаил Локшин, 2024) / The Master and Margarita (Michael Lockshin, 2024)

36. Motel Destino (Karim Aïnouz, 2024)

37. Le règne animal / The Animal Kingdom (Thomas Cailley, 2023)

38. Le Vourdalak / The Vourdalak (Adrien Beau, 2023)

39. Lonesome (Craig Boreham, 2022)

40. Le coeur du masturbateur / The Masturbator’s Heart (Michael Salerno, 2023)

41. Stopmotion (Robert Morgan, 2023)

42. Terrifier 3 (Damien Leone, 2024)

43. Club Zero (Jessica Hausner, 2023)

44. Des Teufels Bad / The Devil’s Bath (Veronika Franz & Severin Fiala, 2024)

45. A Quiet Place: Day One (Michael Sarnoski, 2024)

46. City Hunter (Yūichi Satō, 2024)

47. Afterglows (Taichi Kimura, 2023)

48. Think at Night (Greg Hanec, 2024)

49. Jour de colère / Interstate (Jean Luc Herbulot, 2024)

50. To kalokairi tis Karmen / The Summer with Carmen (Zacharias Mavroeidis, 2023)

Best Premiere Viewings of August 2024

1. Mami Wata (C.J. 'Fiery' Obasi, 2023)

‘Mami Wata’ is, hands down, one of the most stunning films created on the African soil. Deeply rooted in legends of the titular sea goddess, it keeps you glued to the screen, in the state of wide-eyed wonder. Its remote, exotic world is gorgeously captured by Lílis Soares whose breathtaking, high-contrast cinematography corresponds with dichotomies that underpin the story, familiar yet poetic. As the ebony shadows, pearly grays, and foamy lights feast your eyes, Obasi manages to establish a connection with your primordial self, as he, inter alia, examines the pros and cons of traditional values conflicted with the unstoppable modernization. Eliciting intense performances from his cast, with an assured hand and clear vision he leads the viewer to an oneiric conclusion that justifies the ‘fantasy’ label, and leaves you mystified...

2. Experiment in Terror (Blake Edwards, 1962)

The dark presence of the film’s antagonist, one Red Lynch (a sinister bravura by Ross Martin), looms over a bank clerk, Kelly Sherwood (Lee Remick, whose very presence is astounding!), and her younger sister Toby (a fine supporting role by Stefanie Powers) in what appears like a prototype noir thriller / police procedural for a plethora of subsequent Hollywood flicks. Blake Edwards – best known for the Sellers-starring ‘Pink Panther’ series, and ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ – directs with a keen sense of cinematic storytelling and Hitchcockian suspense, assisted by Philip H. Lathrop’s immersive, shadow-infested cinematography, as well as by Henry Mancini’s haunting score that is pregnant with mystery. There is something slightly proto-Lynchian about the dense atmosphere, and not only because of the ‘Twin Peaks’ sign our heroine drives past by in the opening sequence...

3. On the Waterfront (Elia Kazan, 1954)

Tautly directed and superbly acted. Aurally, visually and emotionally striking crime drama that hasn’t lost any of its relevance.

4. Sayyedat al-Bahr / Scales (Shahad Ameen, 2019)

A co-production of Saudi Arabia, UAE, Jordan and Iraq, ‘Scales’ marks a commendable feature debut for writer-director Shahad Ameen who translates her own experience of growing up in a men-dominated society into a dark fairy tale. The story of a 12-yo girl, Hayat (Basima Hajjar), is set in a fishing village on a remote, unnamed island with a horrifying tradition of offering first-born daughters to the sea, and is told largely through images, with dialogues reduced to a bare minimum. The harmonious marriage of gripping B&W cinematography by João Ribeiro with the hauntingly elegiac score by Fabien and Mike Kourtzer creates a dense atmosphere of mystery, partly embodied by mermaids. They also represent one side of Hayat’s inner conflict that burns at the very core of Ameen’s narrative which, according to one of her interviews, has no antagonists, with both women and men turned into the victims of a cruel custom...

5. Naked Tango (Leonard Schrader, 1990)

Frequently bathed in red lights in accordance with the brothel setting, Eros tangos with Thanatos in Leonard (older brother of Paul) Schrader’s first and only directorial effort – a high-camp homage to the roaring 20’s, with a baroque style to die for! The film’s lavish production design and noirish cinematography are so captivating that one can easily forgive almost every bit of corniness in an incredibly sexy blend of romantic melodrama and gangster flick that sees Mathilda May turned into a Louise Brooks look-alike, with Vincent D’Onofrio portraying her Valentino. The love-hate, dirty-dancing affair of their characters – a young woman escaping one prison just to end up in another, and a suave, sleazily charming ‘tango king’ killer – gives soap operas a good run for their money. The final shot is the epitome of cinematic artifice.

6. Household Saints (Nancy Savoca, 1993)

In her adaptation of Francine Prose’s novel of the same name, Nancy Savoca skillfully balances between the mundane and the miraculous, weaving a bittersweet tale of three generations of women in Little Italy of NYC. Born in a family of Argentinian and Sicilian immigrants, she creates authentic characters, and elicits captivating performances from her cast, the standouts being Judith Malina, Tracey Ullman, Lily Taylor and Vincent D’Onofrio. Gently lacing the story with a delicious sense of humor, and imbuing it with elements of magic realism, she examines the interconnectedness of tradition and modernity, superstition and common sense, mysticism and scepticism, her approach to all the themes marked by open-mindedness. And although her narrative grip is somewhat loosened in the second half, the film never loses its charm or runs out of surprises, one of which involves ‘stigmata dripping blood on the carpet’ during the intense ironing of a red and white checkered shirt...

7. Coma (Bertrand Bonello, 2022)

A formally whimsical meditation on the nature of cinema, id est dreams and their multiple realities, depicted through the prism of an ecologically conscious coming-of-age story which is seasoned with a pinch (or two) of wry, deadpan humor, and continually implodes into its subliminal spaces under the pressure of isolation.

8. Caché / Hidden (Michael Haneke, 2005)

A meticulous, formally gripping exploration of the voyeuristic nature of cinema, ‘Hidden’ plays out like a layered, subtly sadistic, and decidedly metafilmic subversion of the thriller genre, with the victim gradually transforming into the victimizer, and the curtains of bourgeois normality lifting to reveal its pathologies. The viewer is both the voyeur and the one being watched by the film itself, which creates a tangible ‘hauteur’ or rather, discomfort as one desperately expects the big reveal that remains both hidden and glaringly obvious. Haneke’s psychologically intricate (and politically charged) game finds its anchor in exquisite performances, not only from the leading duo of Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil, as the austere aesthetics uphold the cruel, post-colonialist reality.

9. Femme (Sam H. Freeman & Ng Choon Ping, 2023)

Fraught with tension – emotional, sexual and psychological, Freeman and Ping’s provocative feature debut erases the boundary between overt homophobia and latent homosexuality, playing out like a simmering blend of nuanced character study and steamy erotic thriller in which the revenge for a hate crime is served with a feeling... and exchange of bodily fluids. The film’s greatest forte lies in believable performances and incredible chemistry of Nathan Stewart-Jarrett and George MacKay whose protagonists – as contradictory as human beings tend to be – slip between inviolability and vulnerability / confusion and certainty within the shifty balance of the ‘cat and mouse’ dynamics, as their tumultuous inner states are externalized through the expressive lighting and color schemes of James Rhodes’s handsome cinematography.

10. Zgodba ki je ni / Non-existent Story (Matjaž Klopčič, 1967)

The withering feeling of being lost, useless and incapable of taking control over one’s own life permeates virtually every frame of Matjaž Klopčič’s challenging feature debut – a decidedly plotless road-movie which amalgamates Antonioni-esque alienation and longing with surrealist meanderings comparable to the Czech New Wave. Revolving around a provincial worker, Vuk (excellent Lojze Rozman), ‘Non-existing Story’ aka ‘On the Run’ epitomizes bleakness in its stream-of-conscious (non)narrative, and often unexpected cuts, as well as in a multitude of close-ups capturing incurable melancholy. Emphasizing the dense atmosphere of despair in expressing innermost self is the starkly beautiful B&W cinematography (Rudi Vaupotič) perfectly matched to Jože Privšek’s jazzy, subtly expressive score.

11. Jour de colère / Interstate (Jean Luc Herbulot, 2024)

Jean Luc Herbulot of ‘Saloum’ fame once again plunges the viewer into the murky waters of demimonde, his hero Frank – played with a tired-eyed, hang-dog stoicism by Didier ‘JoeyStarr’ Morville – facing the demons of his hired gun career. Armed with a sharp sense of pacing, he approaches the pulpy, comic-like material with a straight-faced resolve, delivering a simplistic, yet effective road-movie-ish thriller whose supernatural spices add a trip-inducing flavor. His genre-b(l)ending may not be the epitome of inventiveness, but his protagonist’s guilt-ridden ride provides a surprisingly refreshing experience, backed up by moody lighting of Hugo Brilmaker’s neo-noir cinematography, Pierre Nesi’s unobtrusively propulsive beats subtly intertwined with some classic pieces, and Asia Argento embodying the feisty spirit of Eurotrash cinema in the supporting role of Frank’s lover Anna.

12. Afterglows (Taichi Kimura, 2023)

A gorgeous confluence of glowing lights, silvery grays and funereal shadows makes Taichi Kimura’s feature debut a sheer delight to look at, with an eclectic score – at turns gently evocative and dissonantly foreboding – elevating the viewing experience, even when the narrative loses momentum. Unfolding in an unhurried pace, the story revolves around a grieving taxi driver, Akira Morishima (a superb turn from Kentez Asaka), who’s gradually losing his grip on reality, transforming ‘from a relatable everyman to a ticking time bomb ready to explode’ (Sean Barry, Asian Movie Pulse). Inebriated with (deceptive) memories of his dead singer wife, and obsessed by another woman who is the spitting image of his Sayuri, Akira leads us through the (surrealistic) labyrinth of his troubled mind that finds its embodiment in the streets of Tokyo – treated as a character in its own right. Breaking no new ground in the domain of psychological dramas, ‘Afterglows’ is nevertheless a commendable effort – a solid stepping stone for whatever Kimura has in store next.

12. To kalokairi tis Karmen / The Summer with Carmen (Zacharias Mavroeidis, 2023)

In his big screen debut, 33-yo Yorgos Tsiantoulas gives quite an uninhibited performance, baring both his body and – in a much subtler way – soul as an actor turned public servant, Demosthenes, keen on rekindling a creative collaboration with his best friend, Nikitas (Andreas Labropoulos, excellent). On nudist / cruising rocks of Athens, the duo revives the memories of a recent summer when Demosthenes adopted the adorable titular pup – the embodiment of his emotional insecurities, and plans to turn them into Nikitas’s first feature which Mavroeidis craftily employs as the basis of his own meta-dramedy. Audaciously queer, ‘The Summer with Carmen’ is neither laugh-out-loud funny, not deeply poignant, but it feels like striking the right cords in its bold portrayal of gay relationships – platonic, sexual and romantic, making the most of its quirky nature, beautiful shooting locations, and Tsiantoulas’s Herculean physicality.

13. She (Irving Pichel & Lansing C. Holden, 1935)

Discovered in the garage of silent movie star Buster Keaton, and colorized in 2006, under the supervision of stop-motion wiz Ray Harryhausen, as a tribute to producer Merian C. Cooper (King Kong, 1933), ‘She’ is a flawed, yet highly enjoyable piece of pulp cinema, boasting a sweeping score, exquisite Art Deco sets, and gorgeous costumes worn by Helen Gahagan whose elegantly commanding performance inspired Evil Queen of Disney’s 1937 classic ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’. A somewhat campy combination of romance, adventure and fantasy, it is simultaneously epic, melodramatic, and almost childlike in its transparency, with Van Nest Polglase’s striking art direction being its greatest forte. 

14. Oddity (Damian Mc Carthy, 2024)

In his sophomore feature, Damian Mc Carthy (Caveat) decidedly swims against the ‘elevated horror’ stream, in favor of delivering some old-fashioned hair-raising thrills. His story – involving everything from ghosts to home invaders to a wooden Golem – may be excessively tropey, but it works like a haunted charm, largely by virtue of dense, claustrophobic atmosphere established through beautiful cinematography, expert editing, and eerie score. The setting limitations are compensated with the exquisite production design, particularly of a country house interior that is an admirable compromise between modern austerity and retro chic warmth, operating as a battleground where human evil meets vengeful spirits. Also clashing – occasionally with hints of ironic humor – are the characters’ disparate attitudes towards the supernatural, with Carolyn Bracken sympathetically prickly in the role of a blind psychic, and Gwilym Lee sneering as her sceptical psychiatrist brother-in-law. Although no new ground is broken, ‘Oddity’ firmly stands as one of the most effective Irish offerings to the genre.

Honorable mention: The Seasons’ Canon (Crystal Pite, 2018)

If you’re a modern dance aficionado, you’ve most probably come across (and been utterly impressed by) some YouTube excerpts of ‘The Seasons’ Canon’. However, it is the full performance that overwhelms with a stunning choreography by Crystal Pite to Max Richter’s electrifying ‘decomposing’ of Vivaldi’s ‘The Four Seasons’, as well as with mesmerizing movements of the dancers (dozens of them!) often synergizing like an otherworldly organism in ecstatic, hyperkinetic and subtly erotic exchange of energies. Also praiseworthy is the team in charge of stage technicalities (lighting in particular!), and the meticulous direction of Cédric Klapisch and Miguel Octave whose cameras capture angles not visible to the audience of Opéra national de Paris where the show was filmed. Masterful!