Feisty, funny, frightening when necessary, Boston’s Frank Gallop classed-up the airwaves.
This is a feminist battle where all participants wear marshmallow boxing gloves.
The documentary has a “why me?” element to it, with a dark comic edge, but it isn’t a pity party.
A fuller accounting of the creative contributions of women to the film industry in its early decades is still fighting for a place in mainstream awareness. The documentary Be Natural is a valuable battering ram in that fight.
“They were pieces of shit when we shot ‘em, but later on they became relics.”
Director Howard Hawks’ signature statement was the depiction of the American (or mostly American) male group with a task to accomplish.
Her Smell is funny-terrifying, alluring-repulsive, moving-disturbing, era-capturing and timeless.
Even an imperfect work-for-hire like Damaged Lives can show the touch of an artist.
Luchino Visconti made theatrically tinged movies driven by music, indebted to painting, sculpture, architecture, and literature—he accomplished, dare I say, a fusion of the arts.
The landscape and architecture are beautifully photographed, but more important are the array of faces and the music of the voices.