Dreyer’s “Gertrud,” like the various installments of “The Bachelor” franchise, found much of its drama basically from characters sitting on elegant sofas and talking about their relationships. “Flowers of Shanghai” achieves a similar impact: it’s a film about sexual intercourse work that features no sexual intercourse.
, among the list of most beloved films of your ’80s plus a Steven Spielberg drama, has a great deal going for it: a stellar cast, including Oscar nominees Whoopi Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey, Pulitzer Prize-winning source material and a timeless theme of love (in this situation, between two women) for a haven from trauma.
The movie begins with a handwritten letter from the family’s neighbors to social services, and goes on to chart the aftermath of the girls — who walk with limps and have barely learned to talk — being permitted to wander the streets and meet other little ones for the first time.
The previous joke goes that it’s hard to get a cannibal to make friends, and Chook’s bloody smile of a Western delivers the punchline with pieces of David Arquette and Jeremy Davies stuck between its teeth, twisting the colonialist mindset behind Manifest Destiny into a bonafide meal plan that it sums up with its opening epipgrah and then slathers all over the display screen until everyone gets their just desserts: “Eat me.” —DE
Though the debut feature from the producing-directing duo of David Charbonier and Justin Powell is so skillful, specific and well-acted that you’ll want to give the film a chance and stick with it, even through some deeply uncomfortable moments. And there are quite a number of of them.
Shot in kinetic handheld from beginning to end in what a feels like a single breath, Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne’s propulsive (first) Palme d’Or-winner follows the teenage Rosetta (Emilie Duquenne) as she desperately tries to hold down a career to support herself and her alcoholic mother.
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Played by Rosario Bléfari, Silvia feels like a ’90s incarnation of aimless 20-something women like Frances Ha or Julie from “The Worst Person in the World,” tinged with Rejtman’s typical brand of dry humor. When our heroine learns that another woman shares her name, it prompts an identity crisis of kinds, prompting her to curl her hair, don fake nails, and wear a fur coat into a meeting arranged between the two.
No supernatural being or predator enters a single body of this visually economical affair, but the committed turns free porn hub of its stars as rim4k love so strong they descend into madness, along with the piercing sounds of horrific events that we’re pressured to imagine in lieu of seeing them for ourselves, are still more than sufficient to instill a visceral panic.
The film ends with a haunting repetition of names, all former lovers and friends of Jarman’s who died of AIDS. This haunting elegy is meditation on sickness, big tits silence, and also the void may be the closest film has ever come to representing Dying. —JD
Where do you even start? No film on this list — nearly and including the similarly conceived “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me” — comes with a higher barrier of entry than “The top of Evangelion,” just as no film on this list is as quick to antagonize its target viewers. Essentially a mulligan about the last two episodes of Hideaki Anno’s totemic anime collection “Neon Genesis Evangelion” (and also a reverse shot of kinds for what happens in them), this biblical mental breakdown about giant mechas and the rebirth of life in the world would be complete gibberish for anyone who didn’t know their NERVs from their SEELEs, or assumed the Human Instrumentality Project, was just some incredibly hot new yoga pattern.
In “Bizarre Days,” the love-Ill grifter Lenny Nero (Ralph Fiennes), who sells people’s memories for bio-VR escapism about the blackmarket, becomes embroiled in an unlimited conspiracy when one of his clients captures footage of a heinous crime – the murder of a Black political hip hop artist.
There are manic pixie dream girls, and there are manic pixie dream girls. And then sexyxxx — one,000 miles over and above the borders of “Elizabethtown” and “Garden State” — there’s Vanessa Paradis being a disaffected, suicidal, 21-year-aged nymphomaniac named Advertèle who throws herself into the Seine within the start of Patrice Leconte’s romantic, intoxicating “The Girl about the Bridge,” only being plucked from the freezing water by an unlucky knifethrower (Daniel Auteuil as Gabor) in need of a different ingenue to play the human target in his traveling circus milftoon act.
Mambety doesn’t underscore his points. He lets Colobane’s turn towards mob violence come about subtly. Shots of Linguere staring out to sea mix beauty and malice like couple of things in cinema due to the fact Godard’s “Contempt.”