“You’re tearing me apart!”
The line–the plaintive cry–is synonymous with Rebel Without A Cause and hence with Nicholas Ray. I hope to say more about Ray as I word through some of his films this summer, …

My relationship with the films of Ingmar Bergman has been analogous to that with a popular elder at a new church: I respect the title and all, but I usually find myself squinting when people …

I keep thinking I must be wrong.
As with Wordsworth, I keep going back to Buñuel in the knowledge that others I know and love see something I don’t. There must be a way in, a …

If the name “Antonioni” gives the neophyte cinephile pause, he can take solace in the fact confusion loves company almost as much as misery does. Andrew Sarris begins his introduction of Jean-Luc Godard’s interview with cinema’s Michelangelo by reminding readers that L’Avventura (1960) was hissed at the 1960 Cannes Film Festival.

I have read some responses to film that dismiss as (and for) being too politically slanted. Maybe, but as with Hoop Dreams and Stevie, Gilbert and James are interested, first and foremost, in people. The film reflects the beliefs of the people in it.

As a documentary, the film is informative without being too polemical. It has a point of view, and its makers have (I imagine) their sympathies. That said, the documentaries I like best are the ones that trust the audience enough to simply give it the story and let the viewers grapple with it on their own terms. In an age where docugandas seem to dominate the landscape, it is nice to see a film that is rich in ideas and circumspect in presentation.