They Kill Horse Riders, Don’t They?: Ortega Puzzles with Deadpan Metaphors
Nothing is what it appears to be in Argentinean Luis Ortega’s latest film Kill...
Your Friends & Neighbors: Téchiné Tries for Ethical Sentiments
Now in his eighties, director André Téchiné continues his steady, perennial output with the humanist melodrama...
The Sound of My Voice: Meta Delivers Masterful Psychological Identity Horror
Does it come from without or within? ‘It’ being the perception of danger, delusion...
Persian Lessons
Director Vadim Perelman looks to have his most notable project in over a decade make the festival rounds in 2020 with Persian Lessons,...
Lover, Come Back: Furtado Hearts Hemoglobin in Sinister Debut
The heart is a lonely killer in Brazilian director Alice Furtado’s apprehensive narrative debut Sick, Sick,...
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.