The Face of Another: Schimberg Scrutinizes the Pratfalls of Face Value
Those familiar with his 2018 sophomore film Chained for Life will likely notate director...
The Moon in the Gutter: Amirpour Shoots for the Moon and Misses
For her third directorial outing, Ana Lily Amirpour remains fascinated with B-movie grunge...
On Body and Storm: Reijn Uncovers a Snake Pit of Wealthy Frenemies in Social Satire
It’s Agatha Christie spliced with the frivolous escapism of social...
Alas, Poor Yorick: Sono’s English Language Debut a Fallow, Gonzo Spectacle
What happens when a cult actor meets a cult filmmaker? Well, sometimes they just...
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.