Oct 1, 2024

Best Premiere Viewings of September 2024

FEATURES

1. In Cold Blood (Richard Brooks, 1967)


Directed with a great sense of gritty, ahead-of-its-time style, and edited with such a precision that virtually every cut and transition serve both the narrative flow and the aesthetics, ‘In Cold Blood’ is a powerful blend of a gripping character study and detailed true crime reconstruction adapted from the book of the same name by Truman Capote. The handsome lensing by Conrad Hall (who shot Esperanto-spoken horror ‘Incubus’ in 1966), and Quincy Jones’s odd jazzy score that must’ve influenced Badalementi’s contribution to Lynch’s finest works grab the viewer’s attention within the very first seconds, and hold it firmly until the unsettling conclusion. On top of that, the sparkling dynamics between Robert Blake – thirty years before turning into iconic Mystery Man of ‘Lost Highway’ – as mentally unstable Perry Smith and Scott Wilson as a charismatic bad boy, Richard ‘Dick’ Hickock, make the film all the more compelling.

2. Chime (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2024)


Complemented by the dreariest of grays, blue is the coldest color in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s unnerving mood piece that amplifies the fear of the Unknown, as it raises a number of questions and provides not a single answer. During the brief running time of 45 minutes, the line between existential and metaphysical dread is blurred, with the nightmare of mundanity seeping from the film’s odd reality into our despondent own, to remain ever-present at the back of one’s mind, and under the skin, long after the credits have rolled. A puzzle of no and infinite solutions, ‘Chime’ is also a masterclass in austere formalism, its acutely haunting sound design and (f)rigidly taut cinematography emphasizing the combined terror of day-to-day coping and a mysterious force behind the (unheard) chime. On top of that, Mutsuo Yoshioka gives an eerily transfixing performance in the role of a chef turned instructor whose life takes a phantasmal turn only to leave both him and the viewer hanging halfway towards nowhere.

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


Creating tension in the most banal of situations, such as a dinner party, Emin Alper directs his (superb!) neo-noir thriller with an assured hand, assisted by powerful performances from the entire cast, particularly the leading man Selahattin Pasali, beautiful widescreen framing by Greek cinematographer Christos Karamanis, tight editing by Eytan Ipeker and Özcan Vardar, and unobtrusively foreboding music from Petzold’s regular collaborator Stefan Will. Psychologically intricate, politically provocative and cinematically commanding, ‘Burning Days’ touches upon a variety of issues, including populist scheming and corruption, as well as deeply rooted misogyny and homophobia in a toxic patriarchal environment, with the setting – an imaginary small town and the surrounding desert ‘speckled with’ sinkholes – mirroring the characters’ inner states, and barely containing the conflict about to erupt. The film’s cryptic coda is like a cherry on top.

4. Meet Joe Black (Martin Brest, 1998)


It’s been awhile since I watched a three-hour-long film that felt twice as shorter, leaving me with a luminous impression of being a part of a genuinely heartwarming moment. A romantic in me was utterly smitten by the breezy, even saccharine illusion, wishing there were more features in which Claire Forlani and Brad Pitt at their stunning prime caressed each other with virtually every penetrating, blue-eyed look exchanged... 

5. Sanctuary (Zachary Wigon, 2022)


‘Good Luck to You, Leo Grande’ meets ‘Venus in Fur’ in Zachary Wigon’s sophomore feature that has enough idiosyncrasies to feel like neither of the two films I’m comparing it with. (Besides, it was released just three months after the former.) A romantic comedy disguised as a psychological drama/thriller (or is it vice versa?), ‘Sanctuary’ subtly subverts the viewer’s expectations, boldly blurring the boundaries between the role play (of domination and submission) and true identities of its only two characters, and bending the genres at its own whim without ever feeling contrived. Unfolding in a large hotel apartment and the hallway leading to the elevator, it easily overcomes its stagy setting through some carefully chosen camera angles (kudos to DoP Ludovica Isidori!) that correspond with the protagonists’ inner workings, as Ariel Marx’s mood-swinging score does a fine job at heightening the tension in their battle of wits, as well as evoking a wide range of emotions. But, it is the leading duo of Margaret Qualley as Rebecca and Christopher Abbott as Hal that anchors the story, their remarkably nuanced performances pulling you ever deeper into the tricky game of shifting power dynamics...

6. The Firebird (Barbara Willis Sweete, 2003)


Despite its low, TV-special budget, ‘The Firebird’ is a lovely adaptation of ancient Russian fairy tale set to the mesmerizing ballet score by Igor Stravinsky, and most elegantly choreographed by James Kudelka. Its minimalist set design which is employed in all scenes is a minor setback, considering the energy and beauty emitted by the dancers of National Ballet of Canada, including sublimely graceful Greta Hodgkinson in the titular role, charming Aleksandar Antonijević as Prince Ivan, ethereal Rebekah Rimsay as Princess Vasilisa, and imposing Rex Harrington as Kastchei the Demon.

7. Harem Suare / Last Harem (Ferzan Özpetek, 1999)


Four are the main reasons why ‘Last Harem’ deserves wider recognition: the lavish art direction by Bruno Cesari and Mustafa Ziya Ülkenciler, the intricate costume design by Alfonsina Lettieri, the warm lighting of Pasquale Mari’s beautifully composed frames, and the utterly magnetic presence of Marie Gillain in the role of the sultan’s multilingual concubine, Safiye. Laced with subtle eroticism, and directed with an unhurried pace and solemn care that require the viewer’s patience, the drama takes place at the turn of the 20th century, and focuses on the background of events that would lead to the abolition of the Ottoman sultanate. A gentle meditation on love, storytelling, and the elusive nature of freedom, the film seduces you with its poise, and melancholic soul.

8. Giornata nera per l'ariete / The Fifth Cord (Luigi Bazzoni, 1971)


Hands down, one of the most elegantly shot pieces of giallo cinema – cinematographer Vittorio Storaro (who would frequently collaborate with Bertolucci) is a show-stealer.

9. Blink Twice (Zoë Kravitz, 2024)


Thematically sensitive, and visually inspired, directorial debut from Zoë Kravitz sees her fiancé Channing Tatum stripped off his usual good-guy image, and jumping into the murky or rather, slimy waters of villainy, along with Simon Rex, Christian Slater, Haley Joel Osment, and Kyle MacLachlan in a ‘triple cameo’ role. The ensemble cast of familiar faces also includes Geena Davis, yet the story is carried by Naomi Ackie as a nail artist and waitress, Frida, whose party-of-a-lifetime dream comes true at a nightmarish price. The film is largely set on a too-good-to-be-true paradise island, and Kravitz throws in hints that something is terribly off, not only through the character of an ostensibly creepy maid (code: Red Rabbit), but also through a bunch of foreboding details and alerting montage sequences. As her thriller passes from a psychological to a revenge territory, the suspense is ratcheted up, and the garish color palette makes way for the cold nocturnal hues and candle-lit filth that intensify the sinister aura surrounding Tatum’s antagonist. Although the ingredients are all pretty much familiar, ‘Blink Twice’ is a tasty, if not entirely intoxicating cocktail that marks a promising start for its creator.

10. Kinds of Kidness (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2024)


Teetering on the verge of a mannerist self-parody, the latest offering from Yorgos Lanthimos takes the most ardent of fans to be fully appreciated. Super-awkward, unapologetically deadpan and excessively long in its probing of human condition, and challenges of contemporary existence, ‘Kinds of Kidness’ often trades its soul for the overemphasized rigidity of form, challenging not only one’s patience, but ‘absurd-o-meter’ as well. Its cynically humorous nature that knowingly provokes frustration finds both its anchor and alleviators in Robbie Ryan’s austerely beautiful framing, and Jerskin Fendrix’s masterly discordant score.

SHORTS

‘A film about the dominance of time and space over a human being’, in the words of the author himself, ‘Acceleration’ is a seven-minute meditation on loneliness, alienation and transience, framed with engineer’s precision (Martinac was an architect by profession), yet sublimely poetic in its depiction of Mediterranean ambiance. A quote by T.S. Eliot – ‘in my beginning is my end’ – perfectly sets the tone of this melancholic bravura.

Coming across like a fragmented tone poem of solitude, ennui and transience, this (unfinished?) short by Joseph Cornell reveals the beauty of urban decay as seen through the eyes of a young woman (the directors’s alter ego?) wandering around the city, as well as from the perspective of children playing in the streets. The grainy texture of 16mm cinematography – shrouded in complete silence – intensifies the feeling of dreamy melancholy which pervades the portrait of New York’s unglamorous, yet mysterious face.

A most impressive piece of fan fiction, ‘Alien: Monday’ is the true labor of love by a creative duo of Paul Johnson and Claudia Montealegre who did all the heavy lifting, from character, mechanical and background design to 3D modeling, inking, coloring and shading to scriptwriting, animating and directing, with Scary Good Studio (Randy Greer) providing sound effects and minimalist score, and Gabriel Rosauro credited as tech support. Six years in production, this 15-minute short (+ four minutes largely dedicated to whom I presume to be Patreon supporters or crowdfunders) looks and feels like a golden era (80s / 90s) anime set in the ‘Alien’ universe, as it chronicles a close encounter of Monday-hating technician Ashlin with Xenomorph on mining hauler Thanatos. In accordance with the iconic tagline of Ridley Scott’s 1979 film – ‘In space, no one can hear you scream’, silence is often employed to heighten the tension or convey the cosmic vacuum, and breaking it along with Greer’s haunting interventions are the voices of Sara Secora as Ashlin and Phillip Sacramento as ship computer Conrad. And if you watch closely, you may notice some non-Alien Easter eggs hanging on the walls of the Thanatos interior...

Sep 1, 2024

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!

A Selection of Recent Artworks (XXI)

The Intoxicating Perseverance of Dusk / Опојна истрајност сутона

Fragments of life, probably imaginary, almost saintly, slowly fade away. Their light sounds like the second name of oblivion, an invitation to calm. Once they were gray, but now the fire licks the ice, if pondering, then twice. Is it tenderness, madness, or death in a bridal gown they seek?

Фрагменти живота, вероватно имагинарног, замало светог, натенане нестају. Њихова светлост звучи као друго име заборава, позив за затишје. Некада су били сиви, али сада ватра лиже лед, двапут ако се премишља. Да ли је нежност, лудило или смрт у венчаници оно за чиме трагају?

Decoding of a Random Sample / Дешифровање случајног узорка


Death to the Rose Tormentors! / Смрт мучитељима ружа!


Tlön's Enigma and Its Contradiction / Тленска загонетка и њена противречност


Faux Gothic / Лажна готика


The Arrival of the Sacrosanct Tortoise / Долазак Свете Корњаче


An Imaginary Straight Line / Замишљена права линија


A Question Behind the Lace / Питање иза чипке


The Rabbit's Void / Зечева празнина

Jul 31, 2024

Best Premiere Viewings of July 2024

1. The Substance (Coralie Fargeat, 2024)


Boldly taking cues from Kubrick, Cronenberg, Lynch and Yuzna, Coralie Fargeat (Revenge) crafts the most stunning body horror in recent memory, one that eschews subtlety in favor of fierce toying with genre tropes, and takes its no-holds-barred approach to (gory) extremes in the unforgettable finale. Part acerbic satire on unrealistic beauty standards, and part intense dissection of self-loathing, the Faustian tale of ‘The Substance’ can also be read as a cautionary note on drug abuse, as well as a tongue-in-cheek portrait of the unhealthy struggle of reaching for the stars.

Assisted by the top-notch production and costume designs, gruesomely detailed prosthetics, meticulous framing, and pulsating score, writer-director Fargeat excels as a visual storyteller, directing with a firm hand, and eliciting uninhibited performances from the leading stars – Demi Moore (Elisabeth Sparkle, vulnerable and desperate) and Margaret Qualley (Elisabeth’s youthful and sassy alter-ego, Sue), and some high-camp sleaze from Dennis Quaid (whose supporting character isn’t named Harvey for nothing).

2. 3 Women (Robert Altman, 1977)


Imbued with mystery from the very first chord, and wonderfully matched to the hazy imagery of the opening sequence, Gerald Busby’s sublimely uncanny score anticipates the offbeatness that would gently shroud the proceedings in Robert Altman’s allegedly ad libbed feature. Elevating the weirdness are beautifully bizarre murals by the most reticent of three women (or three personas of one woman?) portrayed by Shelley Duvall, Sissy Spacek and Janice Rule, each actress lending the film her own (divine!) idiosyncrasy, all the while synergizing on the mood-spectrum between yellow and purple. A dreamlike reflection on identity, ‘3 Women’ is nothing short of a transcendental cinematic delight.

3. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (Don Siegel, 1956)


Reportedly not intended to operate as a political allegory, the first adaptation of Jack Finney’s 1954 novel undeniably reflects the fear of totalitarianism, and loss of identity, intensified by somniphobia. Pervaded by an increasingly strong feeling of (palpable!) dread and paranoia, it is a fine example of building suspense through the simplest of means, with Don Siegel’s sharp direction, and resonant performances, particularly from Kevin McCarthy in the leading role, anchoring the film.

4. No abras nunca esa puerta / Never Open That Door (Carlos Hugo Christensen, 1952)


Initially composed of three self-contained stories linked through the theme of the door that separates one’s own ‘enlightened home’ (good) from ‘dark jungle’ (evil), ‘Never Open That Door’ was cut to the first two (morality) tales, with the third one (If I Should Die Before I Wake) released as a stand-alone feature. Both adapted from Cornell Woolrich’s (aka William Irish) writings, the parts of this ‘diptych’ are cinematically engaging spins on film noir, with ‘Somebody on the Phone’ playing out like a revenge thriller of sorts, and ‘The Humming Bird Comes Home’ blending suspense and poignancy in an astounding crime drama. Directed with a strong sense of mystery by prolific Argentinian filmmaker Carlos Hugo Christensen, they leave the viewer with some unanswered questions even after their twists are revealed, and the curtains are closed on the hypnotizing interplay of light and shadows... 

5. Si muero antes de despertar / If I Should Die Before I Wake (Carlos Hugo Christensen, 1952)


If ‘M’ had been told through the eyes of a child, the resulting film would’ve probably been pretty close to ‘If I Die Before I Wake’. A sensitive topic of pedophilia is dealt with utmost care by Christensen and the entire cast led by then 15-yo Néstor Zavarce, with fairy tale tropes skillfully weaved into the nightmarish story. Deeply resonating with it are the expressive cinematography by Pablo Tabernero, sweeping score by Julián Bautista, and exquisite production design by Gori Muñoz, most memorable for the surrealistic opening and dream sequences.

6. Death Machine (Stephen Norrington, 1994)


If you’re looking for a super-cool B-movie refreshment that features ‘killer’ animatronics, Rachel Weisz’s cameo debut, a bunch of nerdy references, and Brad Dourif as a mad scientist or, I quote, ‘a prime example of acute violent psychosis, allied to extreme technical virtuosity’, then you probably know how I’m gonna end this sentence. Add to that a good sense of humor and suspense matched to stylish cinematography, and you have one of the most impressive directorial debuts from  a special FX expert turned filmmaker.

7. O Bobo / The Jester (José Álvaro Morais, 1987)


The hypnotic ‘talkiness’ of Duras meets picturesque theatricality of Monteiro’s ‘Silvestre’, with the effective use of primary colors – red and blue in particular – bringing the 60’s Godard to one’s mind. There’s also something Ruizian about those time-jumps, yet José Álvaro Morais’s fiction debut stands on its offbeat own. A heady, ‘art imitates life and vice versa’ mixture of a melancholic ‘memorial’, temperamental break-up drama, and politically charged intrigue set against a high-profile staging of medieval novel ‘The Jester’ by Alexandre Herculano (1810-1877), the feature is deeply rooted in Portuguese history which will certainly befuddle many uninitiated viewers (such as myself), and simultaneously leave a strong, lasting impression, by virtue of purely cinematic artifices.

8. AGGRO DR1FT (Harmony Korine, 2023)


The first Harmony Korine’s offering to pique my interest is an audacious take on crime genre – thin on plot, but thick on trippin’ inner monologuing, and even thicker on mesmerizing thermal imaging further elevated to a whole new ‘phantasmagorical video game’ level through the use of augmented reality effects, and what can be described as ‘living AI tattoos’. A zero-fucks-given meeting point between low-brow and high-brow art, it plunges the viewer into a demonically somnambulist version of Miami underbelly – a hallucinogenic sea of iridescent colors tamed by the inebriating haze of ambient electronica and whispery voices. Although not as radical, or alchemical as Daniel & Clara’s 2016 mysterious fantasy ‘In Search of the Exile’ which achieves the ‘infrared vision’ looks through a more elaborate / layered experimentation, ‘AGGRO DR1FT’ is a peculiar chunk of postmodern cinema – a sourly sweet treat for the adventurous. 

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


‘Shot on glorious 35mm’, as noted in the ending credits, the third feature from Franz & Fiala (Goodnight Mommy, The Lodge) brims with stills you wish to frame and hang on the wall of a gallery (many kudos to cinematographer and Jessica Hausner’s frequent collaborator Martin Gschlacht). The film’s sublime visual beauty is only matched by the heaviness of its ominously autumnal atmosphere – a reflection of its heroine’s troubled state of mind, untreated in an isolated 18th century environment of religious dogmatism, day-to-day grind, in-laws’ oppression, and patriarchal toxicity. A harrowing, slow-burning examination of crippling depression, ‘The Devil’s Bath’ is a severely unsettling character study, at turns psychologically draining and viscerally relentless, firmly anchored in the devastatingly dedicated performance from Anja Plaschg.

10. Dead Whisper (Conor Soucy, 2024)


Not the first, nor the last indie gothic deeply rooted in its protagonist’s grieving, ‘Dead Whisper’ is an eerie slow-burner that plunges the viewer into a surrealistic nightmare of a Cape Cod lawyer, Elliot Campbell (a stellar turn from Samuel Dunning), lured to a mysterious island – a domain of a demonic entity dubbed The Historian (Rob Evan, creepy from the apparitional get-go) – where the soul of his baby daughter may reside. Set some time in the past, with no cellphone in sight, this bleak and chilling psychological drama marks the feature debut for writer/director/editor Conor Soucy whose keen sense of dense atmosphere is wonderfully matched by Ben Grant’s taut frame composition often channeling the spirit of Andrew Wyeth, as well as by Nikhil Koparkar’s broodingly ominous score harmonized with desaturated colors of the steely palette.

Honorable Mention: The Blue Rose (George Baron, 2023)


Written, directed and starring 18-yo (!) George Baron, ‘The Blue Rose’ is a flawed, yet admirable feature debut – an oddball ‘pastel noir’ heavily influenced by David Lynch. However, despite the title that is an obvious reference to the character of Lil from ‘Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me’, and a plethora of visual cues borrowed from Lynch’s oeuvre (Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, Rabbits), the film is not Lynchian, but a bizarre beast of its own. Existing in an alternate (purgatorial?) reality of the 50’s, and taking frequent turns to Dreamland, it plays out – largely in a camp register – like a mystery that isn’t too keen on being solved, as it weaves the themes of gender, identity, oppression, and artistic integrity into a twisted narrative. Brimming with colorful imagery filled with red herrings (and blue triangles), and accompanied by ethereal tunes, it is a promising starting point for a young filmmaker.

Jul 1, 2024

Best Premiere Viewings of June 2024

1. Австрийское поле (Андрей Черных, 1991) / Austrian Field (Andrey Chernykh, 1991)


Ruiz meets Sokurov in a peculiar, equally sensual and mysterious world behind the mirror, where crypto-poetic dialogues pose as echoes of feelings and experiences so intimately opaque that they defy any attempt to be discovered and named, let alone put into definitions. Softer than melancholy, more fragrant than love, and more elusive than thoughts yet to be born, they transcend cinematic (sur)reality which they’re integral part of, bringing you into a liminal state. The camera (of Dmitriy Mass) acts like a silent observer visiting someone’s subconscious mind, as it captures the complete dissolution of both time and space, becoming one with the soul / psyche of the mesmerized viewer. ‘Austrian Field’ marks the feature debut from Andrey Chernykh, and it is more a dream, than a film.

2. Kuća na pijesku / House on the Sand (Ivan Martinac, 1985)

“Where is evening coming from?”


Dedicated to Bruce Baillie’s 1964 short ‘Mass for the Dakota Sioux’, the only feature in the filmography of Croatian experimenter Ivan Martinac is a miraculous anomaly in Yugoslav cinema. Decidedly minimalist in narrative terms, with dialogues eschewed in favor of rhythmical editing, ‘House on the Sand’ is a fascinating meditation on loneliness, transcending time through clearly defined spaces, both interior (deeply intimate) and exterior (at times, as ostensibly infinite as the open sea), as well as the liminal ones (elusive, invisible). The strongly felt sense of space (and displacement within it!), often accentuated by ‘a frame within a frame’ compositions, elevates the film’s already brilliant ‘architectonicity’ to a whole new level, as rigid geometries transmute into subliminal sensations. All the while, the most mundane of actions are portrayed as if the eye of the camera belongs to an alien entity, lending them a thick aura of austere poetry, and anticipating ‘Homo Sapiens Project’ bits of Rouzbeh Rashidi’s oeuvre. They repeat in a ritualistic manner, suspended between (no)life of a depressed archaeologist protagonist (Dušan Janićijević, his stern expressions perfectly matched to the melancholic mood), and the only certainty that is death...

Available @ VIMEO

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

“Don’t be scared. There must be beautiful things in this chaos.”


In his latest offering (and the first one that piqued my interest, after a failed sitting through ‘Nocturama’), Betrand Bonello reflects on the anxieties of our time, delivering a formally fascinating meta-film loosely based on Henry James’s 1903 novella ‘The Beast in the Jungle’. Starring Léa Seydoux and George MacKay, both shining in their roles though the former does a heavier lifting, ‘The Beast’ braids three stories – set in La Belle Époque, social media-infected 2014, and the near, ‘Equilibrium’-like future of 2044 – into a tightly edited narrative of doomed star-crossed lovers. Deliberately reserved, maybe even alienating in its highbrow approach to romance and other themes it explores (loneliness, death, time, past lives, emotional numbness), the feature successfully blends a variety of disparate influences, from Resnais to Carax to Lynch, yet always remains... well, its own beast, one in possession of an uncannily magnetic power. The production design by Katia Wyszkop is pitch-perfect in all of the three eras, and admirably captured by cinematographer Josée Deshaies, with widescreen slyly narrowed to academy ratio for AI-dominated 2044, and thoughtful blocking elevating the beauty of numerous shots.

4. Requiem (Zoltán Fábri, 1982)


The history of oppression is intertwined with the memories of love in a romantic drama centered around a former athlete, Natti – a seductively compelling performance from Edit Frajt. Sentimentalism is eschewed in favor of bittersweet poeticism permeating both dialogue (and the way it is delivered) and mise-en-scène, from its autumnal palette to the smallest of details (a plate of pears). Fábri’s direction betrays the hand of a master, with slow-motion and freeze frame utilized as tools for controlling the past, allowing the characters and viewers to savor the moments as they’re lost, one by one...

5. La Chimera (Alice Rohrwacher, 2023)


A charming film of dreamlike textures, its luminous heart in the right place (somewhere in the 20th century), ‘La Chimera’ reaffirms Rohrwacher as a filmmaker of delicate sensitivity, and keen sensibility reflected in the picturesque cinematography, musingly meandering story, as well as in the sparkling chemistry she has with with the entire cast, creating a bunch of authentic characters, sympathetic even at their most flawed. Carol Duarte as Italia is a revelation to me.

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


Reminiscing his own childhood in post-war Japan, as well as his professional relationships with fellow director Isao Takahata, and producer Toshio Suzuki, Hayao Miyazaki delivers his most personal film to date – a coming-of-age tale that grows progressively more surreal, as fantasy invades reality in often unexpected, and largely bird-related ways (heron’s bizarre inner/true self, kingdom of man-eating parakeets). Themes of loss, grief, mortality, inner conflicts, and life’s uncertainties are gently intertwined into a nuanced narrative revolving around a motherless boy on a journey of self-discovery, at once fantastical, jovial and bittersweet. Needless to say, the animation is as awe-inspiring as expected from the master of the Ghibli studio, with the exquisite cast of voice-actors breathing life into a bunch of colorful characters, and Joe Hisaishi’s evocative score emphasizing the all-pervading feeling of delicate melancholy.

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


My personal favorite in what is currently ‘A Quiet Place’ trilogy, Michael Sarnoski’s sophomore feature is a poignantly directed humane drama set against the alien invasion that leaves New York in shambles, forcing it into silence. Focused on a terminally ill heroine, Samira (a sweeping performance from Lupita Nyong’o), who’s partnered by a therapy cat, Frodo (what a fine feline!), and British law student prone to panic attacks, Eric (Joseph Quinn, superb), ‘Day One’ shifts between the emotionally resonant parts, and edge-of-your-seat tension with seemingly little to no effort that reflects Sarnoski’s impressive versatility. Speaking of which, he even manages to slip in a handful of sublimely poetic moments into a struggle to stay alive, and though he doesn’t revolutionize any of the genres, he does deliver a potent, lovingly crafted cocktail – a modestly budgeted blockbuster with a heart.

8. Ai no Bōrei / Empire of Passion (Nagisa Ōshima, 1978)


The only ‘true kaidan’ in Ōshima’s four-decades-long career, ‘Empire of Passion’ plays out like a cautionary tale, with guilty conscience of its anti-heroes manifesting as a ghostly presence that fertilizes the garden of madness, until the flower of ugly truth blooms. Deliberately paced, and directed with an acutely unforgiving sense of human fallibility, the film is wonderfully lensed by Yoshio Miyajima (of ‘Kaidan’ fame), with Tōru Takemitsu (The Face of Another, Himiko) composing an unnervingly haunting score, establishing an eerily brooding atmosphere. In two (stellar!) central roles, Kazuko Yoshiyuki and Tatsuya Fuji manage to elicit a certain dose of sympathy, in spite of their characters’ heinous act, as Takuzō Kawatani provides unexpected, yet welcome comic relief as a police officer, Hotta.

9. To teleftaio psemma / A Matter of Dignity (Michael Cacoyannis, 1958)


Anchored in believable performances, particularly from Ellie Lambeti whose character is the focal point of a simple, yet insightful story, ‘A Matter of Dignity’ (or ‘The Last Lie’, as the original title literally translates) is a powerful tragedy that plays out like an indictment of the rich, following the decay of a high bourgeois family, and their pathetic games to keep appearances. Gradually transforming into a poignant social drama, and eventually leaving you with a lump in you throat, the film is also praiseworthy for its black and white cinematography (Walter Lassally) almost perfectly matched by Cacoyannis’s exquisite mise en scène.

10. I visionari / The Visionaries (Maurizio Ponzi, 1968)

“No one is better or worse, people are just different.”


Life, theater and cinema clash and densely intertwine in Maurizio Ponzi’s feature debut, while he explores how they affect his characters (and viewer!) as both actors and human beings in their search for the meaning (if any) of the three ‘entities’. Inspired by the writings of Austrian novelist Robert Musil, the author wrestles with the concept of intellectualized emotions, telling a story of a triangular relationship between a director, actress and actor – one that implies a personal experience. Amidst the interplay of love and jealousy, he weighs the significance of artistic expression in the face of the fickle, multifaceted reality, eliciting well-balanced performances from his cast, and delivering some handsome imagery in a limited, chamber setting.
 
11. Darling (John Schlesinger, 1965)


The sixties are imbued with extra swinging in one of the most biting (and somewhat vitriolic) portrayals of elite, opportunism, and lies some build their lives upon, with Julie Christie taking an outstanding turn as a central character – a young model, Diana Scott, bedding her way to the top of the social ladder. Torn between the search for love, and the need for admiration, this starlet grows emptier with every new ‘trophy’ she wins, leaving the ruins of confused emotions in her wake. And yet, she is not the most unsympathetic character in the (still relevant!) ‘anti-fairy tale’ about the bitterness of ‘la dolce vita’ co-penned by director John Schlesinger, screenwriter Frederic Raphael, and producer Joseph Janni. Her (anti?)heroine is, simply put, too much at the same time that it is not easy to decide whether to root for her, or just wish her to burn in the fire she started, with various men adding fuel. Speaking of men, they are a rather colorful bunch admirably portrayed by (suave) Dirk Bogarde (true love?), (snaky) Laurence Harvey (jet-set pimp), (flirty) Roland Curram (gay bestie), and (regal) José Luis de Vilallonga (an Italian prince, no less), each one complementing Ms. Scott’s persona in a different way. Matching superb performances is Schlesinger’s elegant, if occasionally uptight direction, and Kenneth Higgins’s stark B&W cinematography beautifully capturing the urban stuffiness of London, the ostensible idyll of English countryside, and ‘a sense of eternity’ in one of those fascinating remote villas of Italy.

12. The Primevals (David Allen, 2023)


A delightful throwback to the adventure classics such as ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’ (1959), and a loving homage to stop-motion creations of Willis Harold O’Brien (King Kong, 1933) and his protégé Ray Harryhausen, ‘The Primevals’ is released almost twenty five years after the death of its originator – animator David Allen (1944-1999). Five decades (!) in development and production hell, it comes across like a shiny artifact of a time long gone, its ‘innocence’ awakening a warm sense of nostalgia in the viewer.

13. Der schweigende Stern / The Silent Star aka First Spaceship on Venus (Kurt Maetzig, 1960)


Based on the 1951 novel ‘The Astronauts’ by Stanisław Lem (who was reportedly ‘extremely critical’ of the film), ‘The Silent Star’ is a neat, if slightly campy piece of Utopian science fiction made behind the Iron Curtain, in co-production of East Germany and Poland. Featuring an international, subsequently dubbed cast, it takes the viewer from Earth, united and in peace, to devastated Venus, reflecting on the fears of another atomic destruction. Although its buildup may be slower (and talkier) than necessary, once the ethnically diverse crew of scientists reach their destination, the things become more intriguing, with a radioactive glass forest, mechanical ‘insects’, a mysterious white sphere, and gooey, lava-like substance causing some serious trouble for our heroes. There is an undeniable, if naive charm attached to its optimistic view of humankind, as well as to the dated, yet ‘palpable’ visuals, especially when it comes to the bizarre designs of alien world.

14. Jengi / The Gang (Åke Lindman, 1963)


A group of rebels without a cause follow a wild one across Helsinki of the 60’s in a cautionary tale told from the perspective of a country girl, Eeva, and a country boy, Paavo. Tarja Nurmi and Esko Salminen are so sweet and have such a nice chemistry as a couple, that it’s easy to root for their characters, even when they act as accomplices to a street gang led by one bad apple, Kalle (Ville-Veikko Salminen). And though their big city adventure appears dated or rather, conservative in its incessant moralizing, the portrait of the Finnish youth culture of the time isn’t without its charms. Cinematographer Olavi Tuomi provides us with some superb shots of neon-lit Helsinki, cozy interiors and eloquent faces, and Erkki Melakoski composes a frothy score to emphasize the delinquents’ mischief at display, with Åke Lindman’s neat direction keeping all bits of his melodrama, including the (unintentionally?) campy ones, together. 

15. Grad / The City (Vojislav ‘Kokan’ Rakonjac, Marko Babac & Živojin Pavlović, 1963)


A three-part omnibus covered in a heavy patina of despair, loneliness, alienation and disorientation, with death lurking around the corner...

SHORTS

1. Five Filosophical Fables (Donald Richie, 1967)


Dedicated to Buster Keaton, and appearing like a spiritual successor to silent cinema, ‘Five Filosophical Fables’ is the longest and arguably most entertaining film from Ozu and Kurosawa scholar Donald Richie. Composed of five allegorical shorts, this omnibus – dubbed ‘an outrageous farce’ by none other than Yukio Mishima – dissects the modern (Japanese) society with a sharp sense of absurd, slapstick, raunchy and dark humor. It opens with a loony story of romantic rivalry set in the desolate outskirts of a coastal town, moves to a lusty deconstruction of the Pygmalion and Galatea myth, takes a cannibalistic turn to a park (probably making Manet turn in his grave), challenges the viewer’s point of view through the eyes of a man walking only on hands, and ends on a naturist / anti-materialist note, as its protagonist is stripped / liberated of his earthly possessions. Handsomely captured on 16mm, its grainy B&W images married to a classical score – ‘Felix Mendelssohn, etc’, as noted in the credits, ‘FFF’ subverts human values in a gleeful mixture of cultured barbarism, dreamlike abandon, and uncanny eroticism.

2. Mass for the Dakota Sioux (Bruce Baillie, 1964)


Available @ VIMEO

3. Armagedon ili kraj / Armageddon or the End (Ivan Martinac, 1964)


Accompanied by Ray Charles's ‘Unchain My Heart’ set on repeat, and interrupted by black screens portending the end of a relationship, this experimental short is permeated by a strong sense of alienation emphasized by pitch-black shadows. Its deeply melancholic beauty is devastating.

Available @ VIMEO

4. Kuća / House (Radoslav Vladić, 1977)


Available @ YouTube

5. Bad Acid (Sam Fox, 2022)


Inspired by the 80’s aerobic videos, ‘Bad Acid’ is a garish, over-the-top dark comedy on vanity and narcissism, bursting with unrestrained campiness.

Available @ YouTube