There’s a Ghost in Me: Zurcher Explores the Necessity of Destruction
Amidst all the existential dread in Franz Kafka’s body of work, silver linings abound,...
The Girl and the Robot: Schrader Wows with Exceptional Exploration of Love, or Something Like It
Harlan Ellison memorably titled a collection of short stories,...
The Play’s the Thing: Schanelec Shines with Striking Dynamic on Artifice vs. Authenticity
Words pour out of us, as the main character vocalizes in one...
I Was At Home, But (Ich war zuhause, aber)
German art-house auteur Angela Schanelec will be set to unveil her ninth feature, the intriguingly titled,...
Scenes from a Fugue State: Schanelec Returns with Abstract Continuum of Dissolved Relationships
“I don’t know where to put myself,” says a character at one...
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.