Gerald Peary
Assayas’s splendid autobiographical feature is about a young man who refuses to turn his back on the radicalism of the ’60s
What about Bert Stern, the artist? He deserves credit for bringing fashion photography into the modernist moment in the late 1950s and early 1960s.
A fantastic film? Not really. “In the House” is sometimes ingenious, but all the main characters are cold, arrogant, and off-putting.
To The Wonder — the best American feature by far of 2013: beautiful, compassionate, tragic, transcendent.
A movie critic can’t help but tie the Boston Marathon tragedies to the cinema, and so John Frankenheimer’s “Black Sunday” (1977) obviously flashes to mind.
“Blancanieves” is not quite as charming as “The Artist,” but it’s less of a parlor trick, more sincerely a work of true silent cinema, 85 years after the dawn of sound.
This documentary plays like a didactic high school civics lesson. I agree totally with its politics while abhorring its unimaginative political correctness.
No! No Annette. How unfair, the death of the fabulous Annette Funicello!
What Roger Ebert was was a very hard-working, daily journalist who, as he should, watched thousands of movies and wrote about them in a very clear, concise, fairly interesting but obvious way.
A hedonist and humanist, admired filmmaker Ricky Leacock was curious about everyone, including the rich and famous, especially if he could show them sans their celebrity masks.
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