Film
“The half-hearted support of jazz by American broadcast TV, be it commercial or PBS or cable, has been an insult not only to the artists, but to the public as well.”
In space, no one can hear you go extinct.
The Chaperone plays like a sanitized look at female independence and sexual desire for the prudish over-50s crowd.
It’s hard to imagine a Boston, even a New England, film-making and film-going scene without David Kleiler here.
Most of the films selected will be shown in 35mm, making the visual experience as invigorating to watch as the music will be to listen to.
The Wind explores the fears that beset even strong, capable women stuck struggling for survival without community or social contact.
If you’re the kind of person who coveted every word and wild-man gesture of inebriated Hunter S. Thompson, The Beach Bum could be your movie.
My mind is busy considering the presence of two distinctly engrossing thrillers of sex and violence set within the adult film industry, one a vividly romantic neo-giallo fairy tale, the other a discomfiting, tragicomic spiral into murder and depravity.
What elevates these ordinary lives is director Kent Jones’s elegiac distance; the narrative has the feel of a memory piece.
These satanists are far less concerned with organizing decadent ceremonies (though there is a fair bit of that, and it’s thrilling to behold) than they are with exposing corruption and hypocrisy.
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