Nora Aunor (1953-2025)

by Juan Carlos Ojano

Nora Aunor in MIRACLE (1982)

World cinema has lost an acting legend. Yesterday, the passing of the Philippines’ Superstar - a multi-hyphenate performer across film, television, radio, theater - was announced by her family. With a career that spans seven decades, 180 films, 260 singles, multiple genres, and hundreds of awards, Nora Aunor’s impact as an artist transcends the boundaries of Philippine cinema. Her longevity is not only astounding in quantity - she starred in 18 films in 1970 alone! - but she has been a central figure in some of the best works Philippine cinema has ever created.

Personally, Aunor is my favorite Filipino actor - male or female - of all-time. Her talent puts her up there with the world’s best like Meryl Streep, Isabelle Huppert, Liv Ullmann, Gong Li, Viola Davis, Sophia Loren, Setsuko Hara, and Fernanda Montenegro. If this is the first time you are reading about this thespian, trust me on this one: she's up there with the best of the best...

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DAVID LYNCH (1946-2025)

by Cláudio Alves

David Lynch as John Ford in his last big-screen appearance, in THE FABELMANS (2022).

Somewhere in LA, in the middle of a concrete nowhere, an open door beckons. It tugs, a jerky motion that makes you fly through space, into Club Silencio. The insides are old, the red velvet memory of a place that is no more. And yet, despite the unease, it's time to sit down and attend the MC's lugubrious presentation, a swirl of lies and jest, fakery that denounces itself in a spectacle that's a bit like a threat, a lot like a spell. Blue swaths over red, it glows, and then, at long last, the diva makes her entrance – Rebekah Del Rio will be singing "Llorando." But of course, it's not her voice, for she falls, and the ghostly tune persists. Somehow, that doesn't matter. In a palace of illusions, the false still rings true. And look, truthful tears stream down your face.

Watching this scene in Mulholland Drive feels like falling an endless fall, free-floating across the void, suspended in nothingness. It feels like pure beauty born of nightmares, pain and ravishment. It feels like nothing else in the world. Like something only David Lynch could have imagined. And what can we do other than surrender to that feeling on this day of all days when we must say farewell to the man, the artist, and the great? David Lynch has died…

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Goodbye, Maggie Smith (1934-2024)

by Cláudio Alves

DOWNTON ABBEY: A NEW ERA (2022) was one of Maggie Smith's last screen appearances.

We always knew the day would come, but it's still difficult to imagine life without the great Maggie Smith among us. Born to a secretary and a pathologist in the interim years between the Great World Wars, she became a respected star of the stage before a jump to cinema in the 1960s expanded her horizons. From temptress to bitter old lady, from romantic heroin to comic relief, dipsomaniac tragedienne, whodunit queen and deranged diva – she could do it all, despite what some might have said about her late-career range or lack thereof. To me, Dame Maggie Smith was a titan, one of my favorite screen presences, and a reliable workhorse who could elevate every project she was involved in, even those that didn't deserve her talents. The British star will be sorely missed and the arts are poorer without her. Nay, the world.

Over the years, multiple writers at The Film Experience have explored the career of the late great two-time Oscar winner. So, let's revisit those pieces and bask in the love for an actress of incomparable wit and unimpeachable craft…

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My first meeting with Gena Rowlands

by Cláudio Alves

The dedication at the end of Pedro Almodóvar' ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER (1999).

Yesterday, as The Film Experience's first foray into honoring Gena Rowlands drew to a close, I asked the readers: Can you remember how you first encountered her?

It's an interesting query since the introduction to an artist can set so much of one's relationship with them going forward. Personally, it's a matter of fascination because I remember so well when and where I first met the goddess that Cassavetes immortalized in his films. At least, I know the moment I became aware of Rowlands as someone I should pay attention to and treasure. It wasn't through any of her works, not directly. Instead, this brush with my actressexual fate came at the end of a tomato-red melodrama beset by maternal madness and a Spanish twist. Yes, I discovered Gena Rowlands through the dedication at the end of Pedro Almodóvar's All About My Mother...

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Goodbye, Gena Rowlands (1930-2024)

by Cláudio Alves

Gena Rowlands in OPENING NIGHT (1977) John Cassavetes

Two days ago, cinephiles worldwide were met with some sad news, tragic beyond belief. Gena Rowlands died at the age of 94 after a few years battling with dementia, as her son, Nick Cassavetes, had previously revealed to the public. It's a loss that defies comprehension because Rowlands' talent was just the same, a generational marvel whose importance can't be overstated. Cinema, especially independent American film, is what it is today because of her contribution. The same can be said about the art of screen acting, in general. So much so that even those who don't gel with her mercuriality must contend with Rowlands' place in the annals of history. 

Even as I loathe to use the term 'undeniable,' Rowlands is the exception to the rule. Consider her undeniable influence on countless artists. Consider the undeniable mark she left on those who watched her and felt themselves freefalling into the deepest recesses of the human soul, a chasm you love to get lost within…

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