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Dreyer’s “Gertrud,” like the various installments of “The Bachelor” franchise, found much of its drama merely 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 intercourse.
Underneath the cultural kitsch of it all — the screaming teenage fans, the “king with the world” egomania, the instantly common language of “I want you to draw me like among your French girls” — “Titanic” is as personal and cohesive as any film a fraction of its size. That intimacy starts with Cameron’s own obsession with the Ship of Dreams (which he naturally cast to play itself within a movie that ebbs between fiction and reality with the same bittersweet confidence that it flows between earlier and present), and continues with every facet of the script that revitalizes its simple story of star-crossed lovers into something legendary.
Where’s Malick? During the 17 years between the release of his second and third features, the stories of the elusive filmmaker grew to legendary heights. When he reemerged, literally every in a position-bodied male actor in Hollywood lined up to get part on the filmmakers’ seemingly endless army for his adaptation of James Jones’ sprawling WWII novel.
In her masterful first film, Coppola uses the tools of cinema to paint adolescence being an ethereal fairy tale that is both ridden with malaise and as wispy as being a cirrus cloud.
This drama explores the interior and outer lives of various LGBTQ characters dealing with repression, despair and hopelessness across generations.
Figuratively (and almost literally) the ultimate movie of the 20th Century, “Fight Club” could be the story of the average white American male so alienated from his identification that he becomes his individual
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A cacophonously intimate character study about a woman named Julie (a 29-year-previous Juliette Binoche) who survives the vehicle crash mzansiporn that kills her famous composer husband and their innocent young daughter — and then tries to manage with her loss by dissociating from the life she once shared with them — “Blue” devastatingly sets the tone for your trilogy that’s less interested in “Magnolia”-like english sexy film coincidences than in refuting the idea that life is ever as understandable as human subjectivity (or that of the film camera) can make it appear to be.
If we confess our sins, He's faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.
None of this would have been possible if not for Jim Carrey’s career-defining performance. No other actor could have captured the mixture of joy and darkness that made Truman Burbank so captivating to both the fictional viewers watching his show as well as moviegoers in 1998.
An 188-moment movie without a second outside of place, “Magnolia” may be the byproduct of bloodshot egomania; it’s endowed with a wild arrogance that starts from its roots and grows like a cheating wife porn tumor until God shows up and it feels like they’re just another redtubr member of your cast. And thank heavens that someone
For such a singular artist and aesthete, Wes Anderson has always been comfortable with wearing his influences on his sleeve, rightly showing confidence that he can celebrate his touchstones without resigning to them. For proof, just look at the way his characters worship each other in order to find themselves — from Ned Plimpton’s childhood obsession with Steve Zissou, into the mild awe that Gustave H.
His first feature straddles both worlds, exploring the conflict that he himself felt for a young guy in this lightly fictionalized version of his very own story. Haroun plays himself, an up-and-coming Chadian film director located in France, who returns to his birth country to attend his mother’s funeral.
Leigh unceremoniously cuts between The 2 narratives until they eventually collide, but “Naked” doesn’t betray any hint of schematic plotting. On the contrary, Leigh’s apocalyptic vision of the kitchen-sink drama vibrates with jangly huge boobs vérité spirit, while Thewlis’ performance is so committed to writhing in its individual filth that it’s easy to forget this can be a scripted work of fiction, anchored by an actor who would go on to star within the “Harry Potter” movies rather than a pathological nihilist who wound up dead or in prison shortly after the cameras started rolling.