Anatomy of a Mime: Ozon Explores the Seduction of Indifference
Decades before Hannah Arendt introduced her concept of ‘the banality of evil,’ Albert Camus...
Five weeks before the César Awards ceremony, we find The Stranger (aka L'étranger) possibly emerging as the possible favorite with François Ozon landing Best...
Feed My Fetish, Please: Cattet & Forzani Pay Homage to the Eurospy in Dazzling Pastiche
Whether giallo gore or Western shaped, their films don’t lose...
Gloria, You’re Always on the Run Now: Du Welz Completes Ardennes Trilogy with Innocence Lost in Dark Fairy Tale
An exercise wherein true and unfaltering...
All that Glitters: Cattet & Forzani Cut Stylish Swath Through Arid Neo-Western
For their third film, Let the Corpses Tan!, another heavily styled recalibration of...
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.