Review
Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s return to form might be explained by his looking backward: the director has chosen to grapple with the fact that many of the pessimistic prophecies of his earlier films have come true.
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What business has a period orchestra got playing the music of Anton Bruckner? And why can’t conductors and orchestras just leave Gustav Holst’s “The Planets” alone?
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“In Their Names” argues that the best way to help victims of crime is to create circumstances that will diminish the chance that they will become victims again.
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There’s bad news and good news at the Woods Hole Film Festival.
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Rachel Hadas’s book of prose poems is a set of meditations grounded in a life well lived and much observed, an experimental field for examining the nature of [human] potentialities.
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My reviewing this movie is like Proust reviewing a tea-dipped madeleine, but I think even old Marcel could spot when bits of the sponge cake were stale or too soggy.
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Mother Nature provided singular and poetic assistance during Sunday’s afternoon outing at Tanglewood.
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“The Heron’s Flight” is, in many ways, a hopeful antidote for the fear generated by these difficult times.
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This piquantly enjoyable docufiction emphasizes how movie spectatorship encourages empathy and understanding.
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The Museum of Fine Arts screens some ripples from the New Wave.
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