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Scenes From a Friendship: A Conversation with Alex Ross Perry
2 hours ago
Very clearly of the independent American cinema of the moment, and the New York scene in particular, Alex Ross Perry has nevertheless distinguished himself from his contemporaries with three singularly biting comedies—and now has set himself further apart with his latest: Queen of Earth, an intense dramatic departure. Viewers of Impolex, The Color Wheel, and most recently Listen Up Philip will recognize certain trademarks, among them a cast of entitled characters who treat each other horribly, as well as Sean Price Williams's stunning Super 16 cinematography, which here captures the damaged mental state of the film's protagonist with a blend of grainy pastel blues and greys contrasted with the earthly colors that make up the terrain surrounding its lake house setting. Taking cues from Polanski, Bergman, Fassbinder, and Kubrick, Perry imbues the film with an unsettlingly violent tone, made all the more discomforting in its restraint (this bubbling violence never manifests physically, »
- Adam Cook
Ryland Walker Knight's "Inside Voices"
6 hours ago
Two San Francisco girls sneak into an uncle's house, drink his vodka, and talk about losing their virginity.
In an article about his move from writing to filmmaking, Knight says:
"...making movies is way more fun than sitting alone writing about movies. Directing isn’t just designing shots, as many critics are dumb enough to focus on, but talking to people, thinking out loud, using as few words as possible to convey complex ideas or simpler parts of bigger ideas one part at a time, like in a string."
The Details: An Incomplete Sum
2 March 2015 6:39 AM, PST
The first thing to appear on screen in Une femme mariée (1964) is nothing, followed by hands. His and hers. One with a ring, one without. Then the back of a woman's neck. Bare legs. The side of a face. The whole face. A torso. Different poses. In Pierrot le fou, one year and two films away, Jean-Luc Godard would turn the opening credits into a semiotic game, where each letter appeared one at a time in alphabetical order, so the audience watches as isolated and thus meaningless symbols slowly cohere into a unified whole. Une femme mariée, the most generous and underrated of Godard's 60s films, takes a similar approach, but with a very different end, for greeting not language but a person.
Charlotte (Macha Méril) is first seen (if that's the correct word) following a tryst with a man who isn't her husband. She exists in a kind of cinematic cubism, »
- Duncan Gray