Finding Nemo is a mood piece, an expression of fear, joy, adventure, and inner turmoil. And what better metaphor for the terrifying possibilities presented by the wider world than the heaving depths of the open ocean?
PositionStaff Writer
JoinedMay 28, 2017
Articles49
Sarah Welch-Larson is a film critic interested in feminist theory and theology, sad men in space, and stories about androids. She lives in Chicago with her husband, their dog, and about three dozen houseplants.
I was struck by three common themes braided amongst the 15 feature films I watched at this year's True/False Film Festival: community, a search for moral clarity, and the nature of truth and reality.
Sunshine's detractors complain that the film is a mess, with suspect science that starts off strong before veering into slasher territory in its final third. The hard science isn’t hard enough; the crew makes too many stupid mistakes; the third-act appearance of a human antagonist stretches the boundaries of belief. But these critiques miss the point: Sunshine was always a horror movie, from the very first frame.
Kelly Reichardt's Showing Up pays attention in the measured way that someone might stand before a painting they admire. But instead of showing the finished work, it watches the work being made: long, slow takes of an artist in her garage studio, carving away at clay.
Stephen Cone’s Princess Cyd captures what it’s like to be young and trying on identities in the summer in Chicago, to learn to love a place that would rather love you back wordlessly than talk openly about it.
Michael Mann’s Thief, like its protagonist, elides the romance in favor of efficiency. Frank’s me-against-the-world attitude is both armor and weapon in a one-man crusade to fund his American dream.
In No Bears (2022), Jafar Panahi examines the boundaries that delineate his existence as an artist and as a citizen, flirting with the idea of escape, then drawing back, reluctant to leave the country he loves and doesn’t fully understand, a place at once both home and hostile.
There’s something special about taking part in a treasure hunt at the heart of a hidden gem of a festival. True/False Film Festival feels special because it’s so intimate, populated by cinephiles who love the underestimated and misunderstood genre of documentary features.
Mad God is a stop-motion nightmare, a film that reads like a Boschian painting, a voyeur’s dream, and a dire warning all at once.
On Kogonada’s After Yang and its depiction of grief, love, belonging, and the lovely, wounding ache of memory.
Kathryn Bigelow's Near Dark bites into the myth of American individualism and exceptionalism in Western movies by throwing vampires into the mix.
It’s no secret that Drew Goddard is interested in stories about characters watching and being watched by other people. Bad Times at the El Royale takes this fascination and folds it into the very walls of the titular hotel.