Program No. 4
A new program featuring films about characters coping with radical change, a "clean slate" whether by choice or by chance, and reconstituting the coordinates of their respective realities.
A curated collection of streaming cinema.
Juliette Binoche in Krzysztof Kieslowski's Three Colors: Blue (Poland/France, 1993)
Makiko Esumi in Hirokazu Kore-eda's Maborosi (Japan, 1995)
Sergio Corrieri in Tomás Gutiérrez Alea's Memories of Underdevelopment (Cuba, 1968)
Michelle Williams in Kelly Reichardt's Wendy and Lucy (USA, 2008)
Giancarlo Giannini and Mariangela Melato in Lena Wertmüller's Swept Away (Italy, 1974)
Smaran Ghosal in Satyajit Ray's Aparajito (India, 1956)
Liv Ullman and Max von Sydow in Ingmar Bergman's Shame (Sweden, 1968)
Birgit Doll, Dieter Berner, and Leni Tanzer in Michael Haneke's The Seventh Continent (Austria, 1989)
Emmanuelle Riva and Eiji Okada in Alain Resnais' Hiroshima, Mon Amour (France, 1959)
Marie-Josée Croze in Julian Schnabel's The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (France, 2007)
Krzysztof Kieślowski: "I don't give a shit about society...what I really care about is the individual human being."
A rare late interview with Krzysztof Kieślowski (1941-1996), as he discusses the themes of the Three Colors trilogy. Introduced by Howard Schuman and broadcast in 1996 on the program Moving Pictures.
Suicide, Mourning, and a Different Sense
review of Maborosi by Stephen Holden, The New York Times
Hirokazu Kore-eda's exquisitely beautiful film Maborosi follows the spiritual odyssey of Yumiko (Makiko Esumi), a young Japanese woman recovering from her husband's inexplicable suicide. But that description doesn't begin to evoke the essence of a movie that is a pictorial tone poem of astonishing visual intensity and emotional depth. Watching the film, which has little dialogue and many lingering shots of the Japanese landscape, one has an uncanny sense of entering the consciousness of the main character and seeing through her eyes, all without really knowing her.
"One of Ingmar Bergman's least
review of Shame by Hamish Ford, Senses of Cinema
Often spoken about as one of Bergman’s least discussed works, Shame has nevertheless been very highly praised by his admirers as one of the director’s greatest achievements....the familiar but slightly more realistic nightmare presented by Shame is once more about relationships, privilege and art, now inextricably skewered by the slippery experience of wartime, survival, occupation and complicity. The dissolution of the subject, so relentlessly mined in Bergman’s 1960s cinema, here reaches its surprisingly socio-political zenith....Crossing the intimate and the worldly, reality’s true multileveled violence cannot be kept at bay.
"Just Passing Through" A Review of
Wendy and Lucy
by Brian Eggert, Deep Focus Review
Wendy and Lucy confirms Kelly Reichardt’s place as a true original operating on the margins of American independent cinema....How fitting that her characters often inhabit the outskirts of social and economic hierarchies—American systems that dismiss or oppress those who attempt to carve out a better existence for themselves, ignorant or defiant of the prevailing authority that exploits them.
Memories of Underdevelopment:
by Joshua Jelly-Schapiro, Criterion
(Sergio's) story unfolds in 1961 and 1962, over the pregnant months between the Bay of Pigs invasion and the scary days of what Cubans call the Crisis de Octubre, when their leaders’ confrontation with Washington nearly became a nuclear war. Memories of Underdevelopment is an exercise in narrating, in cinematic terms, a history that was still ongoing. It examined events from a half decade before: momentous days and images that continued, in 1968, to shape the story of a revolution that had left its heady youth behind and was just beginning to deal with the contradictions of adulthood.
by Robert Abele, Los Angeles Times
It’s tempting to believe the cinema of memory never truly existed before 1959, when French filmmaker Alain Resnais tackled the subject with such intimate, mesmerizing care in his feature debut, “Hiroshima Mon Amour.”...As the film segues from narrated reality to an almost operatic, flashback-laced drama of sensual misery — achingly rendered by Riva and Okada — it becomes that rare movie in which present and past meld in every frame to convey a sense of time obliterated, or a dream having a nightmare.
Swept Away is a Wertmüller Film With Solid Appeal
by Vincent Canby, The New York Times
Summer. A blue Mediterranean seascape seen through sunlit mist. In the distance a handsome white yawl moves with the light breeze. On the soundtrack we hear some jazzy instrumental music that recalls the score of every Italian film about the sweet life you've ever seen, but there's a point to it in the film. It pollutes air that once was as pure as it looked. As the camera nears the yacht, the music gives way to the bickering of the yacht's well-heeled passengers. The mood that from a distance had seemed so serene turns suddenly, abrasively indolent—and furiously funny.