There are two ways of looking at the great boxer. One has only to do with us, the American public; and the other has to do with him: the man, the fighter, the political and spiritual figure. Siegel’s film takes the latter approach, showing that the heavyweight champion’s most grueling fights weren’t ever in the ring.
Remarkably, all the killing that takes place in Blue Caprice is anything but sensational. Moors describes the movie’s tone as that of a “sad poem” or requiem only occasionally broken up by the crack and vacuum of rifle fire. Style-wise, Blue Caprice is no triller, and there’s no cat-and-mouse game between cops and criminals. This is a twisted family drama with a father, a son and a blue 1990 Chevrolet Caprice.
So who’s Freda? She’s the band’s longtime secretary, who literally grew up with the Beatles, and saw their lives like no other fan girl did.
The luster of eroticism — a naked 19-year-old girl polished in olive oil — doesn’t do all that much in Il Futuro, a film that tries to be literary but comes off as something more pretty than poetic.
In Museum Hours , director Jem Cohen does this beautiful trick where he takes details of Vienna’s cityscape (a dreary playground, for instance, or a remnant of WWII weaponry), and splices them together with tiny details of old, old paintings. The wonderfully executed yet simple technique produces this lovely little feeling, a sort of emotional reminder that art reflects life, and vice versa.
“Are you in a relationship or a routine?” That’s the central question poised to Viola (María Villar) toward the end of Matías Piñeiro’s pithy and poetic drama by the same name.
The trailer for Drinking Buddies goes down like something you’ve tasted a hundred times before, a rom com in which two couples somehow swap lovers and end up all the happier for it. Coming off more Hollywood than “mumblecore,” the preview makes you feel as though you know what you’re getting into — the tried-and-true altered just so much by indie influence, the cinematic equivalent of Blue Moon.
Inch’Allah is the story of a French-Canadian obstetrician walking the cultural and concrete wall dividing Palestinians and Israelis. While she tries to tread lightly — befriending those on both sides of the conflict — our pretty doctor can’t help but tumble when the story pushes her into tragedy.
If honey bees were to disappear, the world — not to mention the State Fair — would grow to be a much bleaker place. “Apples, oranges – things like that – they’d all be gone,” said Emily Campbell, the 2013 American Honey Princess.
Werner Herzog — the Bavarian art-house master — isn’t one to back down from a challenge. The self-described “soldier of cinema” once hauled a steamboat over a mountain for Fitzcarraldo, trekked through the Sahara to capture […]
Listening to Joshua Oppenheimer is like listening to a waterfall. You sit down, ask the filmmaker a question and hundreds and hundreds of words pour forth.
Blackfish, an investigative documentary that’ll probably have you canceling any plans to SeaWorld, had me harking back one the most beloved movies of my childhood.
I went into Still Mine fearing that it’d be a based-on-true-events love story with way too many tiny violins for my taste. Fortunately, my fears were (mostly) unfounded.
SeaWorld is not at all happy with Gabriela Cowperthwaite. She made Blackfish, a documentary about killer whales and the consequences — in some cases deadly — of keeping them in captivity. And let’s just say SeaWorld doesn’t end up looking too pretty.
The great Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini once said that there’s only a few stories. That aphorism bore true, I found, when watching two rock ‘n’ roll documentaries slated to come out this weekend — A Band Called Death and Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me.