NYFF: The sad, strange, incomplete "French Exit"

by Nathaniel R

Frances Price, the soon to be impoverished widow at the center of French Exit alarms everyone around her and puts them on edge. She will just not cooperate. Neither will Michelle Pfeiffer, the actress playing her, for that matter. Rather than dance around it, let's just state the conundrum up front. When you're watching your favourite actor star in a potential comeback role based on a book you've grown deeply fond of and have already visualized as a movie in your head, the conflicts between expectations and reality and dreams can be impossible to mediate. And disconcerting, too. You've got to watch the movie for the movie but also work through your own external actress-related issues while doing so.

I obsess over Michelle Pfeiffer, okay?! There's no avoiding it and little point not foregrounding it in this review. Complete strangers know this about me...

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NYFF: Yulene Olaizola's "Tragic Jungle"

by Jason Adams

M. Night Shyamalan's name has become synonymous with cinematic puzzlery, but there can be a dulling obviousness to the way he approaches the concept of Mystery, at least in his weakest moments. He genuinely thinks he can explain the unexplainable. His "twists" mostly seem to mash the Unknown into tight little balls we can hold in our hand to exit the theater with. And so it's only the opening passages of his film The Happening, about Mother Nature seeking vengeance against the humans who've abused her so, that retain any sort of power -- Shyamalan spends the remainder of that film piling plot contrivances on top of his original interesting idea until it's the audience who can't breath from the sheer weight of nonsense pouring off the screen.

I'll admit I thought of The Happening while watching the breeze move gently through the rainforest trees of Mexican director Yulene Olaizola's captivating and hypnotic new film Tragic Jungle...

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NYFF: Dea Kulumbegashvili's "Beginning"

by Jason Adams

If you throw a ball, or even better a stick of dynamite, straight up into the air there is a moment of pause, of tranquility, at its peak, before it comes tumbling down. The apogee, as its known, is a fascinating word to me, close as it is to apology -- in my mind I always picture the shrug of the cartoon Coyote as he begins his plummet. Apogee, but whoops here I come. Georgian filmmaker Dea Kulumbegashvili's Beginning, as stunning a debut film as any I've seen, lingers in the feeling of that pause -- the world feels suspended, we're light of breath and danger is nigh, but man the view is something.

The film begins and we meet Yana (Ia Sukhitashvili, staggeringly good) and her husband David (Rati Oneli) as they greet parishioners inside their sparse, fresh-smelling new Jehovah's Witness church, and immediately we notice two things. First that the film was filmed in the squarish frame ratio that's become shorthand for art-minded movie-makers looking to quick express claustrophobia -- think First Reformed or The Lighthouse; right away we know that these are people who are stifled by their surroundings...

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Review: "A Rainy Day in New York"

By Abe Friedtanzer

It’s easy to forget just how formidable Woody Allen’s Oscar history is. Not only is he the most-nominated screenwriter, with sixteen bids, he’s also tied for fourth place in the directing category with seven. He won three prizes for Best Original Screenplay, for the three films that earned Best Picture nominations: Annie Hall, Hannah and Her Sisters, and Midnight in Paris. Annie Hall of course won the top prize for 1977.

Allen has made nearly fifty films, and by my count, I’ve seen a third of those. A good portion of them are from the last two decades, which is hardly considered his golden period. Of his contemporary pictures, I was most wowed by Match Point, which was a dramatic departure from his typical tone as well as a geographical departure from his beloved New York City. But his most recent, Wonder Wheel, was a dud as the closing night selection for the New York Film Festival back in 2017. Interestingly, Allen has two films premiering this month...

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NYFF: the queer slow cinema of Tsai Ming-liang's "Days"

by Sean Donovan

Taiwanese auteur Tsai Ming-liang’s brand has reached a point where any objections to his style seem of limited use or value. At this point in his career, Tsai is going to do what Tsai is always wont to do- which is make films composed of far less shots overall than most filmmakers working today, some stretching as long as 10 minutes, studies in slow repetition and urbane melancholy, sometimes touching on queer themes but just grazing them (Tsai himself is gay). When a filmmaker’s brand is so immediately recognizable it’s sometimes met with impatience and boredom by audiences, as if wondering ‘when are they gonna just get over this already?’ ‘How many lengthy shots of people doing housework is too many?’ Matías Piñeiro’s latest entry in the New York Film Festival, Isabella, received notices of exactly this kind from many critics, wondering what the balance is between honing a brand vs. refusing to develop creatively (I reviewed the film here for TFE to a similarly lukewarm shrug). 

Yet with Tsai Ming-liang I find myself not caring whatsoever about any criteria of versatility or artistic variance in his work...

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