Love this (that fucking soundtrack!). Has such a unique comedic rhythm, and I can’t even capture what makes it work. I kind of don’t want to. Also cool that this is produced by David Gordon Green! Gonna check out the feature next.
Definitely a film to grow with over the years. Everyone here is an artist or a poet in some sense, with dreams and deeply held beliefs about love, pain and the definition of happiness stemming directly from their own storied lives. I’ll always think of Mr. Henrique when I listen to Frank Sinatra’s My Way.
You can find this film on rarefilmm & ok.ru!
A bit too given over to symbolism and affectation at some points (the horse/wedding scene and the snowing police station scene) but there’s enough here that feels genuinely motivated by the mysteries of humanity (Voula’s journey and dance on the beach with a staircase that leads to nowhere) for me to say that I enjoyed this. A journey filled with small wonders, suffering, and uncertainty that ends where all of innocence was lost. A never ending search for the Father.
This honestly shifted something inside of me by the end. It's one of the most tense, humane, and unconventionally terrifying films I've ever seen. Some people find it funny, and certainly some of it is. It’s available on Amazon Prime and if you haven't yet, you should watchlist it.
SPOILERS (don't spoil it!):
The laughs come a moment too late. The silences and stares last a moment too long. Their bodies and words never find the right rhythm, never connect…
"Go while you have the strength. For while a man is on his way, there is still hope for him."
Jesus. One of those films that makes you put your head in your hand and stare at the floor. This places such a vast amount of sensory, human experience against the wall of damnation. War has no aftermath, ideologies have no home, and our tools are even subject to the threat of inanity. At certain points I felt my body…
Perfect way to cap off the night. Did not expect this film to have me crying in the club or laughing this hard, but here we are. Kon’s seamless craft and meditations—on memory, desire, and aging—are flawless as usual, with the added bonus of getting to nerd out on the Kurosawa, Honda, and Ozu references scattered throughout. It all reminds me of that one quote from Yi Yi—about cinema giving us the opportunity to live three times as long. Desire gifts Chiyoko both retrospective and subsequent immortality, just as it gifts Genya’s life a sense of completion. Something about that makes me warm inside.
A beautiful, brief short by a filmmaker I just found out about! Steeps us deep into a sensory experience and leaves us hanging, intermittently, in a realm of awe and reflection. The Toni Morrison passage finds dreams at the crossroads of nature and spirituality, evoking their ability to offer reprieve and nostalgia in the midst of life’s more demanding duties.
Lacks the sensuality in movement, attention to detail, and thus, level of insight held by its influences. I respect it’s principles, but good principles alone don’t make for good execution. Ball speaks a lot about breaking new emotional ground with performances in his Manifesto, but the acting here is entirely too calculated and concerned with telegraphic gesture than moment to moment listening—which can kind of sink a film like this. Still, I respect it.
A few years ago...
a tornado hit this place.
lt killed the people,
left and right.
Dogs died. Cats died.
Houses were split open...
and you could see necklaces
hanging from branches of trees.
People's legs and neck bones
were sticking out.
Oliver found a leg on his roof.
A lot of people's fathers
and were killed
by the great tornado.
l saw a girl
fly through the sky...
and l looked up her skirt.
Her skull was smashed.…
Bud, Violet, Lilly, Rose, and Daisy.
Perhaps the most forward concession in Vincent Gallo's most misunderstood film is it's illustration of the way we seek out the past in the people we use to hide from it. The ways in which we try to rectify guilt through hollow, yet seemingly adjacent experiences that are ultimately fleeting. As it's opening shot may suggest, the characters in The Brown Bunny are trapped in closed-circuit realities—the spoils of grief, surroundings, circumstance and mortality.…
Take 1 of The Six Moral Tales and take 2 of me trying to get into Rohmer’s films (Le Rayon Vert just wasn’t doing it for me that day). I think this may have been a better place to start, if only because this time around I feel much more attuned to Rohmer’s fearlessness in indulging the worst in his characters without feeling the need to frame it as such. Dishonest romance is still tender, and what would serve as…