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The Altman-esque ensemble method of developing a story around a particular event (in this circumstance, the last day of high school) had been done before, but not quite like this. There was a great deal of ’70s nostalgia inside the ’90s, but Linklater’s “Slacker” followup is more than just a stylistic homage; the big cast of characters are made to feel so common that audiences are essentially just hanging out with them for a hundred minutes.
Where’s Malick? During the seventeen years between the release of his second and third features, the stories of your elusive filmmaker grew to mythical heights. When he reemerged, literally every ready-bodied male actor in Hollywood lined up to be part of your filmmakers’ seemingly endless army for his adaptation of James Jones’ sprawling WWII novel.
, John Madden’s “Shakespeare in Love” is a lightning-in-a-bottle romantic comedy sparked by among the list of most self-assured Hollywood screenplays of its 10 years, and galvanized by an ensemble cast full of people at the height of their powers. It’s also, famously, the movie that conquer “Saving Private Ryan” for Best Picture and cemented Harvey Weinstein’s reputation as on the list of most underhanded power mongers the film business had ever seen — two lasting strikes against an ultra-bewitching Elizabethan charmer so slick that it still kind of feels like the work on the devil.
The awe-inspiring experimental film “From the East” is by and large an exercising in cinematic landscape painting, unfolding to be a number of long takes documenting vistas across the former Soviet Union. “While there’s still time, I would like to make a grand journey across Eastern Europe,” Akerman once said of the inspiration behind the film.
A married person falling in love with another man was considered scandalous and potentially career-decimating movie fare in the early ’80s. This unconventional (within the time) love triangle featuring Charlie’s Angels
Tailored from Jeffrey Eugenides’s wistful novel and featuring voice-over narration lifted from its pages (read by Giovanni Ribisi), the film friends into the lives with the Lisbon sisters alongside a clique of neighborhood boys. Mesmerized by the willowy young women — particularly Lux (Kirsten Dunst), the household coquette — the young gents study and surveil them with a sense of longing that mzansiporn is by turns amorous and meditative.
and they are thirsting to begin to see the legendary drag queen and actor in action, Divine gives one of many best performances of her life in this campy and colourful John Waters classic. You already love the musical remake, fall in love with the original.
While the trio of films that comprise Krzysztof Kieślowski’s “Three Shades” are only bound together by financing, happenstance, and a common wrestle for self-definition in a very chaotic modern-day world, there’s something quasi-sacrilegious about singling one of them out in spite in the other two — especially when that honor is bestowed upon “Blue,” the first and most severe chapter of a triptych whose final installment is commonly considered the best amongst equals. Each of Kieślowski’s final three features stands together By itself, and all of them are strengthened by their shared fascination with the ironies of a society whose interconnectedness was already starting to reveal its natural solipsism.
Emir Kusturica’s characteristic exuberance and frenetic pacing — which normally feels like Fellini on Adderall, accompanied by a raucous Balkan brass band — reached a fever pitch in his tragicomic masterpiece “Underground,” with that raucous Electrical power spilling across the tortured spirit of his beloved Yugoslavia because the country experienced through an extended period of disintegration.
And sex movies however, for every bit of progress Bobby and Kevin make, there’s a setback, resulting in a very roller coaster of hope and annoyance. Charbonier and Powell place the boys’ abduction within a larger context that’s deeply depraved and disturbing, but they find a suitable thematic balance that avoids any nikki benz feeling of exploitation.
For such a singular artist and aesthete, Wes Anderson has always been comfortable with wearing his influences on his sleeve, rightly showing confidence that he can celebrate his touchstones without resigning to them. For proof, just look at the way in which his characters worship each other in order to find themselves — from Ned Plimpton’s childhood obsession with Steve Zissou, to your delicate awe that Gustave H.
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David Cronenberg adapting a J.G. Ballard novel about people who get turned on by motor vehicle crashes was bound for being provocative. “Crash” transcends the label, grinning in perverse delight because it sticks its fingers into a gaping wound. Something similar happens in my desi net the backseat omegle porn of a car in this movie, just a single during the cavalcade of perversions enacted through the film’s cast of pansexual risk-takers.