On Mads Mikkelsen's cathartic dance in Thomas Vinterberg's Another Round.
When the faces merge in Persona, I see two people bound by loneliness and shame, to the point where they no longer understand who is who—two completely different people and disparate identities becoming one.
With a single cut between two nearly identical frames, we arrive at the turning point of Mildred Pierce—a moment of erotic fulfillment and desire realized.
In Irving Rapper’s Now, Voyager—as in all great Hollywood melodramas—gestures are charged with the force of things that cannot be, desires that can barely be spoken.
Break out the tissues: this month on the show Veronica and Chad are swapping a medley of their most memorable, formative movie scenes and moments.
Camera Buff is more than a narrative film with documentary elements; it’s a reflection on the documentary medium that uses the genre itself as a frame through which to consider its limits.
All I can say for certain is that, for just under four minutes, Dan Deacon took me out of my mind.
Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy takes care to determine what constitutes and calculates the distance between two people, to examine the shapes that relationships can take.
This is the moment of a woman alone, shuddering with the g-force and fear; repeating into the static void a fierce whisper to convince them: “I’m okay to go. I’m okay to go.”
On The Secret World of Arrietty, teenage despair, wanting what you can't have, and being wanted when you can't be had.
Who wouldn’t wish for release? A dizzying catharsis? A moment where the body no longer obeys but flings itself to the furthest corners of its reach and comes out dancing?
Christopher Nolan's The Prestige paints twin portraits of men driven by ego, by an existential hole that won't allow them to find satisfaction anywhere but on stage.
