Gravitational Arch of Men: Teenage Friendship’s Last Hurrah Found in Walsh’s Scottish Techno Crowd-pleaser
Simultaneously a nostalgic throwback and a vibrant, youthful anthem of rebelliousness, Beats...
The Politics of Evil: Lane makes Satanists of Us All with Amusing, Thought-Provoking Doc
Docu filmmaker Penny Lane explores the contradictions of society, religion and politics...
A debut as rich and accomplished as Romina Paula’s Again Once Again is only surprising without prior knowledge of the Argentinian actress’ prolific output as...
Orchestrating the Suffering: Wordless Omnibus Serves up the Right Image-track for Haydn’s Sonatas
Kaveh Nabatian pours all of his experience as director of shorts, docs...
The thrill of meeting Marjane Satrapi reminded me of being 6 years old at Disney Land when I met the living, breathing Cinderella. Except Cinderella was an actress with a blond wig and Marjane is the real woman behind her autobiographical graphic novel, turned movie, “Persepolis”. The distinctive mole on her nose and her dark sultry eyes rose off the page and appeared in front of me, smoking and speaking with a French accent.