In tribute to Chantal Akerman, Cinefamily is screening a 35mm print of her precocious masterpiece—a monumental study of a woman’s household routine, as well as a remarkable synthesis of New York underground and European art cinema.
The Los Angeles artist Jim Shaw is an esoteric populist who doesn’t only make art but, since he began exhibiting found “thrift store paintings” in 1991, has created his own tradition, an American vernacular surrealism that might be termed “crackpot gothic.”
Like many post-9/11 films, The Walk is, in part, experiential, partaking in the simulated “new real-ness” which with cinema, as an institution, has responded to the loss of authenticity brought about by relentless digitalization. Petit’s actual walk was approximately three times as long as the filmed sequence but the difference is that, through the magic of digital cinema, Zemeckis is able to place the audience with Petit, on “an island floating in mid-air on the edge of the void.”
At once a bravura performance and a fascinating view of the Chinese masses at play, J.P. Sniadecki and Libbie Cohn’s 2012 documentary is a single seventy-five-minute take, exploring an urban park in Chengdu, Sichuan.
A brashly economical and wildly prolific popular artist, Corman directed and produced many of the most entertaining genre films of the 1960s, mostly for the drive-in studio American-International Pictures.
The first of Eric Rohmer’s charming period films, a prizewinner at the 1976 Cannes Film Festival, adapts Heinrich von Kleist’s chastely sensational account of a mysterious pregnancy with classical precision and dry wit.
In their way, The Wolfpack and The Tribe represent the classic Lumière/Méliès dichotomy—do motion pictures reflect or construct reality? The opposition has existed since the medium was invented. But here there is a twist. The Wolfpack is a documentary that delights the viewer with proliferating fictions. The Tribe, more brutal, is an invented story founded on a discomfiting bedrock of documentary truth.
Ukrainian filmmaker Myroslav Slaboshpytskiy’s powerful, unsettling first feature is set in a high school for the deaf and concerns a new student (or inmate) who falls in with the school’s ruling criminal clique.
Film Forum is giving Figueroa a two-week, nineteen-film retrospective that includes eight of the features he made with the most Mexican of Mexican directors, Emilio Fernández, and two each directed by Luis Buñuel and John Huston.
Rebels established Tsai Ming-liang as the most perversely minimal of young Taiwanese directors and made him an instant festival star, although it’s taken over twenty years for the movie get a commercial release in the US.
MoMA reaffirms its faith in stereoscopic motion pictures as a medium with extended runs for two restored Hollywood movies from the first 3-D craze: Hondo (1954) and the MGM musical version of Cole Porter’s Kiss Me Kate (1953).