In this month's episode, Veronica sits down with Fran Hoepfner, Frank Falisi, and our producer Eli Sands to postmortem the 63rd New York Film Festival, including looks at Miroirs No. 3, The Mastermind, Late Fame, No Other Choice, With Hasan in Gaza, The Secret Agent, Peter Hujar’s Day, If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, A House of Dynamite, Cover-Up, Duse, and How to Bake a Cherry Pie.
"You got to move forward because you can't change the past. You can only live in the present. And you just try to make it as full and bright and be as righteous as you can be. But it's rough, man. You know, we're human beings and we have a lot of temptation."
In their (hi)stories of successful losers as well as all the winners who fail perfectly, Jon Bois and Alex Rubenstein find our most human shapes: pleasure in each others’ company, the sublime tension of failing again better, and something like love by a different name.
Having the privilege of being a local and living a short commute away from Festival Street, year after year, I’m able to focus on what makes TIFF most special for me: its varied Canadian programming.
Gummo is gross and soft-hearted and then cruel at every turn. We’re handed a grab bag of what Korine dares us to call perversions.
One could be forgiven for assuming the Nitrate Picture Show proffers sanctuary from the uncertainty reigning outside, but this year’s edition inverted this presumed mandate, with a program of films that presented the past not as a refuge from our present tumult, but as a reflection of it.
Both Eephus and Everybody Wants Some!!! explore groups of men who are devoted to baseball, but have yet to figure out the rest of their own lives.
When Tom Cruise flings himself into the space left by old technology’s outmoded modes, is he bridging a widening gyre or syncing with it?
Watching That Most Important Thing: Love in a world and time where cruel currents seem to suggest that the most important thing could not possibly be either love or loving, I wonder if Andrzej Żuławski’s movements and images are intended as a redemption narrative.
Three years into attending the True/False Film Festival and I finally feel as though I’m getting my sea legs. It feels good to consider a problem I’ve never come across before, to encounter the world through another’s eyes. I go to the movies to see something I’d otherwise never get to see, and True/False offers a unique distillation of that ethos.
"It seems to me there’s a lot of mythologies that exist—mythological positions in film criticism—that I’m trying to combat. One of them is that you can say, in some kind of ultimate way, that one film is good or one film is bad. That’s ridiculous. It seems perfectly reasonable that a film that might be good for me might not be good for you. Therefore, if you say “I”, you’re being honest."
Whenever I speak about The Clock, the first, inevitable question I’m asked is ‘How?’ followed almost immediately by ‘Why?’ It’s impossible to discuss the work without thinking about it mechanically and logistically. How do you make a 24-hour movie? How could anyone physically watch a 24-hour movie? How could they manage, especially under these very particular circumstances of admission?












