— and it hinges on an unlikely friendship that could only exist within the movies. It’s the most Besson thing that is, was, or ever will be, and it also happens for being the best.
Underneath the cultural kitsch of everything — the screaming teenage fans, the “king with the world” egomania, the instantly universal 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 personal obsession with the Ship of Dreams (which he naturally cast to play itself inside of a movie that ebbs between fiction and reality with the same bittersweet confidence that it flows between past and present), and continues with every facet of the script that revitalizes its simple story of star-crossed lovers into something iconic.
Even more acutely than either of the films Kieślowski would make next, “Blue” illustrates why none of us is ever truly alone (for better even worse), and then mines a powerful solace from the cosmic thriller of how we might all mesh together.
Established in Philadelphia, the film follows Dunye’s attempt to make a documentary about Fae Richards, a fictional Black actress from the 1930s whom Cheryl discovers playing a stereotypical mammy role. Struck by her beauty and yearning for the film history that reflects someone who looks like her, Cheryl embarks on a journey that — while fictional — tellingly yields more fruit than the real Dunye’s ever had.
Back in 1992, however, Herzog experienced less cozy associations. His sparsely narrated fifty-moment documentary “Lessons Of Darkness” was defined by a steely detachment to its subject matter, significantly removed from the warm indifference that would characterize his later non-fiction work. The film cast its lens over the destroyed oil fields of post-Gulf War Kuwait, a stretch of desert hellish enough even before Herzog brought his grim cynicism to the disaster. Even when his subjects — several of whom have been literally struck dumb by trauma — evoke God, Herzog cuts to such wide nightmare landscapes that it makes their prayers appear to be like they are being answered via the Devil instead.
For all of its sensorial timelessness, “The Girl about the Bridge” may be much too drunk on its own fantasies — male or otherwise — to shimmer as strongly today mainly because it did from the summer of 1999, but Leconte’s faith within the ecstasy of filmmaking lingers the many same (see: the orgasmic rehearsal sequence set to Marianne Faithfull’s “Who Will Take My Dreams Away,” proof that all you need to make a movie can be a girl as well as a knife).
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Allegiances within this unorthodox marital arrangement change and break with all the palace intrigue of power seized, vengeance sought, and virtually nobody being who they first appear to be.
Al Pacino portrays a neophyte criminal who robs a lender in order hot sex to raise money for his lover’s gender-reassignment operation. Based upon a true story and nominated for six Oscars (including Best Actor for Pacino),
Making the most of his background as a documentary filmmaker, Hirokazu Kore-eda distills the endless possibilities of this premise into a series of polite interrogations, his camera watching observantly as more than a half-dozen characters make an effort to distill themselves into a single perfect instant. The episodes they ultimately choose are wistful and wise, each moving in its have way.
Rivette was the most narratively riley reid elusive from the French filmmakers who rose up with The brand new Wave. He played with time and long-variety storytelling from the 13-hour “Out 1: Noli me tangere” and showed his extraordinary affinity for women’s stories in “Celine and Julie Go Boating,” one of the most purely exciting movies with the ‘70s. An affinity for conspiracy, of detecting some mysterious plot from the margins, suffuses his work.
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