In Noah Baumbach's earliest films—Kicking and Screaming, Mr. Jealousy, and Highball—Carlos Jacott, in particular, feels like an old friend.
I remember The Grand Budapest Hotel, and I remember those swirling lights and the clutched breath and the deep longing. I think about this frame of Agatha, frozen in time, holding her lover’s gaze—holding our gaze—as the darkness briefly clouds her face.
George Cukor wanted his films to be seen by thousands, and there is nothing inherently wrong with that. If anything, this tension—between his genuine artistry and his desire to communicate with the wider American public—makes his films all the more interesting.
Though John le Carré’s work has been adapted many times, far and away the best adaptation, Tomas Alfredson’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, succeeds in large part because it understands le Carré’s underlying fascination with bureaucratic management.
"The weirdest thing is seeing yourself tattooed on another person's body. That's happened once. That took me a few days to process."
Lauren Wilford goes long with director Guillermo del Toro on art, life, death, morality and movies.
One has to peel back a few layers of accreted cultural criticism to get to what The Witch actually is, as a film.
Whit Stillman’s Metropolitan has the appeal of being both a Christmas movie and an anthropological study of goy life among the upper crusties.