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Vicente, seventeen, lives with brother Nino, ten-years-old, and his ailing father in a derelict house on the outskirts of the capital. They don't seem to remember their mother, and are very... See full summary »
Inês de Medeiros
Chris Marker and Pierre Lhomme's LE JOLI MAI (The Lovely Month of May) is a portrait of Paris and Parisians during May 1962;the first springtime of peace after the ceasefire with Algeria ... See full summary »
The French computer programmer Laura inherits the task of making a computer game of the Battle of Okinawa in Japan during World War 2. She searches the Internet for information on the ... See full summary »
A film in homage to Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky. It concentrates on his absence from the Soviet Union and what he left behind. There are episodes of his funeral and places he lived ... See full summary »
The film tells a story of Mariana, a nurse who leaves Lisbon to accompany an immigrant worker in a comatose sleep on his trip home to Cape Verde. The devoted Portuguese nurse took a journey only to find herself lost in abstract drama.
Inês de Medeiros,
Isaach De Bankolé,
You've got to love the French, a people so in thrall to their beloved auteurs that they'll happily commission a documentary which almost exclusively consists of trailing leftfield director Abel Ferrara around the Manhattan streets at night and filming the mayhem. Fortunately, it's worth the ride.
Originally made for the French TV series 'Cinéma De Notre Temps' by a fellow outsider, the Iranian filmmaker Rafi Pitts, this isn't any kind of proper biog of the man and his controversial canon. Rather it is a grimy depiction of a larger-than-life talent going about his business - and everybody else's - bewildering strangers with an ingratiating charm.
It's a perfect approach for the subject matter. As Pitts later explained, "I knew that an interview situation wasn't going to give us any new information about Abel. The best way to portray him was to show him how he is." How much of this persona is a put-on, or whether he's genuinely unhinged, is unclear. But he's quite a vision - a hunched, cackling scarecrow in a pink NY Yankees baseball cap "for the gay ball players".
Elsewhere we find him shooting a music video, banging a piano, and rehearsing with actors - during which he appears at his most lucid, even tender. More delicious is the fact that, given his determined isolationism, the majority of people don't actually know who he is. At one point he'll tell a group of bemused bystanders (presumably wondering why a film crew is hanging on a madman's every delirious whim) that he's the subject of a series called 'Last Day On Earth' - "they film dying people".
Woe betide those who attract his ire. He berates a fellow driver at the traffic lights from his cab window, "It's my world - and you ain't part of it!" The connection between the man and his characters - wild, sad, or utterly alone - is made explicit; Ferrara, a Bronx native, is keeping it real. On nights like these - at least in his head - he really is the King of New York.
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