Almost There: Julianne Moore in "A Single Man"

by Cláudio Alves

As part of its efforts to spotlight American independent cinema, the Criterion Channel is now streaming A Single Man, that 2009 Christopher Isherwood adaptation that saw Tom Ford step away from the fashion atelier and into the film set. Terminally stylish, the picture proposes a study on grief that appears deadened itself. Stretch your senses and you'll feel the cold of cadaver skin buried under powders meant to give back the blush of life. And as much as your nose might search for rot, that stench has been suppressed. Instead, one inhales the aroma of mortuary makeup, the nostril-burning cleanness of embalming fluid, the floral notes from perfumed tissue paper stuffed inside the cheeks to fill them out, gift-like. It's all fake, yet its splendor can't be denied. 

Within this extended perfume commercial, a couple of performances shine bright. There's Colin Firth's Oscar-nominated turn as a suicidal gay man in the early 60s, while Julianne Moore plays his devoted friend, Charlotte – Charley for short…

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Nicole Kidman Tribute: Paddington (2014)

by Nick Taylor

I’m going to tell you a secret: I think the first Paddington movie is better than its more critically-adored sequel. Not in every way is this one better: There’s a couple instances of harsh overlighting that take out some shots at the knees, like a key character emerging from a phone booth as a one-sided meet-cute. You could also say that both films - but maybe especially this one - are leaning into Wes Anderson-type confectionaries, especially with the score. But Paddington’s got a lot of buoyant, colorful entertainment to recommend it, and I can’t help but feel Nicole Kidman’s delightful, icy villainess has been overlooked as one of this series’ most notable achievements, alongside the children’s-book palette, Hugh Grant’s more lauded performance in Paddington 2, and fumbling the bag on Sally Hawkins for the upcoming trip to Peru...

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Review: "The Vourdalak" is a Gothic throwback with its own soul

by Nick Taylor

We love 19th century gothic horror, don’t we folks? One of the most durable subgenres of all time. Influential to our current understanding of what horror is and how to depict it in ways so finely woven into the genre we couldn’t possibly begin to disentangle it from contemporary media.

Director Adrien Beau, making his feature film debut with The Vourdalak following a handful of spooky shorts, has created a vampire film equally indebted to the rhythms and moods of the gothic novella and the style of a Hammer horror flick. There’s no self-aware pastiche, no riffing on the genre, just an immersive attempt to bring some very particular sensibilities back from the dead. After premiering at the 80th Venice Film Festival last year, The Vourdalak is getting a theatrical release this summer. It works beautifully, mordant and sensually detailed, and it’s exactly the kind of gem folks should remember from this part of the year when we’re overwhelmed by December releases...

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Nicole Kidman Tribute: Rabbit Hole (2010)

by Cláudio Alves

For a while, I thought that loss would lead to tears, a general sadness that consumes you whole and leaves behind a husk. Much art and media made it seem so to my adolescent self. The piteous melodrama that the mainstream loves to sell was a convincing lie, and so were the beatific visions of bereavement from which a person learns and grows stronger. But life doesn't obey narrative rules, nor does it seek to satisfy in the ways a Hollywood producer might. The tears do come - and they did - but there was more to it. More that wasn't aligned with ideas of beautiful suffering or an education of the soul. When I found grief, I found anger, too.

Why must it hurt so much? Why must it isolate so strongly? Why does it seem like no one understands? Why must joy prevail in the world? It's obscene, it feels wrong, and it stokes the fires of fury inside. Yet, there's no clear target for the flame. You find yourself full of emotion, wanting to wield it like a weapon and hurt something, anything, maybe yourself, or maybe nothing at all. There is no reason in grief and nowhere to go from there. Often, one finds no path out or through, no answers whatsoever. In this solipsism, recognition may lead the way. If not in the company of others, then in the mirror of the screen – in works like that of Nicole Kidman in Rabbit Hole…

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Nicole Kidman Tribute: The Hours (2002)

by Cláudio Alves

Nicole Kidman's career moves in cyclical repetitions, always coming back to the Australian star having to prove herself and then re-emerge with a revitalized surge of prestige and popularity. It happened back home, when Kidman found early success in popcorn cinema, leading to bigger roles that let her prove her mettle. At the end of the 1980s, she was on her way to securing the respect afforded a serious actress. But, as she traveled to Hollywood, Kidman had to start over. For a while, she was Tom Cruise's starlet girlfriend first and foremost, before a string of more challenging roles set the stage for widespread acclaim, culminating with an Oscar win. We'd see the cycle come back around after a slew of commercial and critical flops besmirched her image, making her the butt of many a plastic surgery joke. And then, there was her 2010s resurgence and the "rediscovery" of her talents in a new era of prestige TV. But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

Today, we arrive at that Academy Award victory, the first great peak of Kidman's Hollywood journey. It was when she donned a prosthetic nose and delivered the specter of Virginia Woolf for Stephen Daldry's adaptation of The Hours…

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