The opening sequence of Antichrist is an oscillation between, “oh, isn’t this lovely” and, “oh c’mon, give me a break.” In many ways, it’s a fractal for the remainder of the picture, as well as Lars Von Trier‘s entire career to date. Every frame in the destined-to-be-debated Antichrist might sever audience reactions more precisely than its notorious scissor wielding sequence, but there is no denying its visual appeal. It has a video-game-like clarity that pushes digital to a place celluloid snobs never dreamed it could breach. But while the images are breathtaking, the content is often cheesy, overwrought, and borders on parody.
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Two films open this week in New York that divide the Paris of our dreams from the Paris of the real. Cedric Klapisch’s Paris is a tourist board-approved attempt to capture the city and its characters by way of Art Nouveau facades and exaggerated lives. It stars Juliette Binoche. Claire Denis’ 35 Shots of Rum is set in the outskirts of the city and inhabited by characters whose resumes are intentionally hidden. Both have their rewards, but one is candy, while the other is a new cuisine that tastes odd at first, but soon creates a craving. Read More »
Rock musical Passing Strange might have passed by you in its Broadway run, but thanks to Spike Lee you’re getting a second chance. The documentary version reflects themes the filmmaker has been confronting since his NYU days while capturing the emotions of the cast on the last night of the show’s run at the Belasco Theater. That, and the crossover between Lee’s life and Stew’s — star and narrator of the semi-autobiographical pop-rock bildungsroman — make the project very personal to the director, whose sometimes grumpy exterior has often belied the emotional maelstroms bubbling within his cinema. Read More »
When first-time director Sophie Barthes conjured up Cold Souls, she had Woody Allen on the brain. The film was born in a dream she had after watching Woody’s sci-fi farce Sleeper, and it revolved around the Woodman archetype: the neurotic, New York creative made miserable by his own obsessive thinking. When she felt the chances were slim to none that Woody would agree to act in a rookie project, the France-born director found her perfect substitute: Paul Giamatti. Read More »
Glenn McQuaid’s I Sell the Dead, which opens in limited-release tomorrow, is scary fun. And not just because of Ron Perlman’s terrible Irish brogue, or the old school special effects that favor caked-on gory make-up to clinical CGI. No, I Sell the Dead is great entertainment because McQuaid understands this about zombies: The living dead are hilarious. Their gimpy walks, their twisted smiles, their taste for the flesh; it’s all kind of ridiculous, and always has been. Read More »
On October 30th, 1974, Muhammad Ali touched gloves with George Foreman in Kinshasa, Zaire. After eight epic rounds, Ali put the mighty Foreman, and the demons of his late career achievements, down to the mat. The Oscar-winning doc When We Were Kings told the story of The Rumble in the Jungle and captured Ali’s magical verbal sparring, along with the feeling generated by American pop and confidence merging with tribal rhythms and homecoming warmth. But that was only half the story. Read More »
An article by Salon’s Andrew O’Hehir laments that few of the films currently screening at this year’s New York Asian Film Festival will flicker on American screens after the prints have been spirited away to the other side of the world. Sure, but what the article doesn’t say, is that thanks to the boom Asian cinema experienced in the early 2000s, it not only has a permanent home in American art-houses, it’s also well on its way to losing that ridiculous moniker (why not just call it Half the World Cinema?). Read More »
All films make more sense in the context of those that came before them, but the old adage is especially true of Woody Allen movies. That’s not to entertain the lazy criticism that his projects are either in form or out (late career works like Deconstructing Harry and Sweet and Lowdown are some of his strongest). It’s simply to say that Whatever Works, the newest export from the Woody Allen Factory System, offers deeply satisfying entertainment when taken in the context of the motifs, themes, and jokes that Allen has been playing with since day one. The flip side? On its own, it would be a disaster.
The typically press-shy Allen sat down with a gang of journalists last week to discuss his cinematic return to New York. He appeared alongside the film’s stars, Evan Rachel Wood, Patricia Clarkson, and Larry David, the one man on earth whose neurotic charm equals the maestro of hypochondria’s absurdist humor.We were hanging on their every word.
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Some artists are infuriating. So are some films. Brock Enright: Good Times Will Never Be The Same is a marriage of the two. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go see it, but if you do, be prepared to be annoyed, bored, and frustrated. Then brace yourself for one the most interesting post-viewing conversations you’ll have about a film this year. Read More »
Editor’s note: This review originally ran during the Tribeca Film Festival. We’re re-posting it because the film opens in theaters nationwide today.
Moon is a collage of sci-fi cinema whose cut and paste pieces will be familiar even to those not comfortable dropping terms like Replicant or Sleestack into polite conversation. That’s not to say it lacks originality — there’s a star-cluster of clever twists and style — but Moon manages to find that magical middle ground where both zealots of the genre and newbies will feel satisfied to spend 90 minutes on board. With only one actor. Much of this has to do with Sam Rockwell, and the simple concept that gets pulled in a number of contortions that are easy to follow yet avoid the soap-opera-in-space-syndrome that plagues too many frames of contemporary sci-fi celluloid. Read More »
