The Mustang‘s a ruminative, understated, cinematic elegy of horseshoes and handcuffs.
The Mustang‘s a ruminative, understated, cinematic elegy of horseshoes and handcuffs.
Mike Leigh’s Peterloo is a loquacious counterpart to Caryl Churchill’s superior Light Shining in Buckinghamshire:
Gloria Bell‘s a masterclass in embedding symbolically-meaningful gestures under a sheen of precisely-constructed realism.
I grew up going to San Diego’s La Paloma Theatre.
The two biggest documentaries of 2019 offer audiences a chance to experience digitally-restored — and thus never-before-seen — footage depicting two of the 20th century’s biggest historical events, the sort you may assume you’ve already witnessed from every conceivable angle.
What — and whom — do we have the power to hold onto, and how?
Five Feet Apart inspired/forced me (and my tear ducts) to reappraise my previously-outlined distinction between “tearjerkers” (boo!) and — a word of Write All Nite’s own invention (at least to my knowledge) — “snifflers” (yay!).
It’s never good when closing-credit title-cards suggest a movie more interesting than the one we’ve just watched for over two hours.
Sound design continues to be the technical component that independent films — with their microscopic moolah — seem to have the hardest time pulling off effectively.