Dreyer’s “Gertrud,” like the various installments of “The Bachelor” franchise, found much of its drama basically from characters sitting on elegant sofas and talking about their relationships. “Flowers of Shanghai” achieves a similar outcome: it’s a film about sex work that features no sex.
is about working-class gay youths coming together in South East London amid a backdrop of boozy, poisonous masculinity. This sweet story about two high school boys falling in love to the first time gets extra credit for introducing a younger generation for the musical genius of Cass Elliott from The Mamas & The Papas, whose songs dominate the film’s soundtrack. Here are more movies with the best soundtracks.
Back from the days when sequels could really do something wild — like taking their major bad, a steely-eyed robotic assassin, and turning him into a cuddly father determine — and somehow make it feel in line with the spirit in which the story was first conceived, “Terminator 2” still felt unique.
In 1992, you’d have been hard-pressed to find a textbook that included more than a sentence about the Nation of Islam leader. He’d been erased. Relegated to the dangerous poisoned capsule antithesis of Martin Luther King Jr. Actually, Lee’s 201-moment, warts-and-all cinematic adaptation of “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” is still innovative for shining a light on him. It casts Malcolm not just as flawed and tragic, but as heroic far too. Denzel Washington’s interpretation of Malcolm is meticulous, sincere, and enrapturing inside of a film whose every second is packed with drama and pizazz (those sensorial thrills epitomized by an early dance sequence in which each composition is choreographed with eloquent grace).
Even so the debut feature from the writing-directing duo of David Charbonier and Justin Powell is so skillful, exact and well-acted that you’ll want to give the film a chance and stick with it, even through some deeply uncomfortable moments. And there are quite a few of them.
Shot in kinetic handheld from beginning to finish in what a feels like a single breath, Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne’s propulsive (first) Palme d’Or-winner follows the teenage Rosetta (Emilie Duquenne) as she desperately tries to hold down a career to aid herself and her alcoholic mother.
Iris (Kati Outinen) works a useless-finish work at a match factory and lives with her parents — a drab existence that she tries to escape by reading romance novels and slipping out to her local nightclub. When a man she meets there impregnates her and then tosses her aside, Iris trannyone decides to receive her revenge on him… as well as everyone who’s ever wronged her. The film is practically wordless, its characters so miserable and withdrawn that they’re barely in the position to string together an uninspiring phrase.
That issue is essential to understanding the film, whose hedonism is simply a doorway for viewers to step through in search of more sublime sensations. Cronenberg’s course is cold and medical, the near-consistent fucking mechanical and indiscriminate. The only time “Crash” really comes alive brandi love is during the instant between anticipating Demise and escaping it. Merging that rush of adrenaline with orgasmic release, “Crash” takes the vehicle to be a phallic image, its potency tied to its potential for violence, and redraws the boundaries of romance around it.
No supernatural being or predator enters a single body of this visually inexpensive affair, nevertheless the committed turns of its stars as they descend into insanity, along with the piercing sounds of horrific events that we’re pressured to assume in lieu of seeing them for ourselves, are still more than enough to instill a visceral anxiety.
A poor, overlooked movie obsessive who only feels seen through the neo-realism of his country’s countrywide cinema pretends to be his favorite director, a farce that allows Hossain Sabzian to savor the dignity and importance that Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s films experienced allowed him to taste. When a Tehran journalist uncovers the ruse — the police arresting the harmless impostor while he’s inside the home from the affluent Iranian family where he “wanted to shoot his next film” — Sabzian arouses the interest of the (very) different community auteur who’s fascinated by his story, by its inherently cinematic deception, and from the counter-intuitive possibility that it presents: If Abbas Kiarostami staged a documentary around this gentleman’s fraud, he could correctly cast Sabzian given that the lead character from the movie that Sabzian experienced always wanted meat rocket riding by great looking juliana soares someone to make about his suffering.
But Makhmalbaf’s storytelling praxis is so patient and full of temerity that the film indianporngirl outgrows its verité-style portrait and becomes something mythopoetic. Like the allegory with the cave in Plato’s “Republic,” “The Apple” is ultimately an epistemological tale — a timeless parable that pornhubb distills the wonders of a liberated life. —NW
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, Justin Timberlake beautifully negotiates the bumpy terrain from disapproval to acceptance to love.
Established inside the present day with a bold retro aesthetic, the film stars a young Natasha Lyonne as Megan, an innocent cheerleader sent to your rehab for gay and lesbian teens. The patients don pink and blue pastels while performing straight-sexual intercourse simulations under the tutelage of an exacting taskmaster (Cathy Moriarty).