Thieves Like Us: Reichardt Wanders with an Inscrutable Slacker
Abstract paintings are not the only undefined objects in The Mastermind, the latest from Kelly Reichardt,...
The Eternal Daughter: Lenkiewicz Ladles the Milk of Sorrows
Screenwriter Rebecca Lenkiewicz makes her directorial debut with Hot Milk, an adaptation of Deborah Levy’s comically...
Tarnished Angels: Haynes Curates a New Dazzling Cult Classic
Had Brian De Palma been keen on rehashing Douglas Sirk instead of Hitchcock, he might have...
Viva La Vache: Reichardt Paints A Surprising Portrait Of Friendship
Kelly Reichardt conjures up an unlikely buddy-movie out of 19th-century fledging America: a tender, no-frills ode...
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.