Blue Bayou’s story deserves to be told and heard. But rather than focus slowly and intently on its central crisis, the script kneads in a dizzying array of additional threads and sidelines.
Ezra Haber Glenn
The Card Counter collapses under the weight of director Paul Schrader’s guilt complex.
1971 gave us bursts of magnificent cinematic iconoclasm that had no future — culturally or politically.
This new satirical sci-fi fable is perfect for home streaming to channel (or perhaps exacerbate) your gnawing anxieties at a world slipping into anti-human automation and free-market desperation.
This is a thoughtful, surprisingly moving, and extremely ambitious film, one that employs an innovative style and some unconventional pacing to explore an unusually complex philosophical and emotional landscape.
Without ignoring the terrible-beautiful magnetism of the industrial imagery we love to hate and hate to love, the camera is gradually, gently, drawn across the river and away from the workday, to spend time with these very real humans who serve the machines.
Censor explores thought-provoking questions about the strange relationships between films, society, fantasy, and reality — and individual identity — in an increasingly mediated and violent world.
Fern may be house-less, but she’s not homeless — there’s a difference, she explains; her home will be the road, and the road is full of life, love, challenges, and surprises, all there for the taking.
While the film is determinedly called “Herself “(“you got this, girl…”), the subtitle could equally have been “It Takes a Village…”
This innovative “documentary” is a major accomplishment: it merits a much broader viewing than it is likely to attract (this one has “sleeper” and “cult classic” written all over it).