Never a person to settle on a single tone or milieu, Jarmusch followed his 1995 acid western “Lifeless Man” with this modestly budgeted but equally ambitious film about a useless guy of a different kind; as tends to happen with contract killers — such given that the 1 Alain Delon played in Jean-Pierre Melville’s instructive “Le Samouraï” — poor Ghost Canine soon finds himself being targeted through the same Guys who retain his services. But Melville was hardly Jarmusch’s only supply of inspiration for this fin de siècle
“Eyes Wide Shut” may well not appear to be as epochal or predictive as some of your other films on this list, but no other ’90s movie — not “Safe,” “The Truman Show,” or even “The Matrix” — left us with a more precise perception of what it would feel like to live during the 21st century. In the word: “Fuck.” —DE
Even more acutely than both on the films Kieślowski would make next, “Blue” illustrates why none of us is ever truly alone (for better worse), and then mines a powerful solace from the cosmic secret of how we might all mesh together.
There could be the method of bloody satisfaction that Eastwood takes. As this country, in its endless foreign adventurism, has so many times in ostensibly defending democracy.
The patron saint of Finnish filmmaking, Aki Kaurismäki more or less defined the country’s cinematic output during the 80s and 90s, releasing a gentle stream of darkly comedic films about down-and-out characters enduring the absurdities of everyday life.
“Rumble in the Bronx” may be established in New York (while hilariously shot in Vancouver), but this Golden Harvest production is Hong Kong to the bone, as well as the 10 years’s single giddiest display of why Jackie Chan deserves his Repeated comparisons to Buster Keaton. While the story is whatever — Chan plays a Hong Kong cop who comes to the massive Apple for his uncle’s wedding and soon finds himself embroiled in some mob drama about stolen diamonds — the charisma is from the charts, the jokes join with the power of spinning windmill kicks, and also the Looney Tunes-like action sequences are more breathtaking than just about anything that had ever been shot on these shores.
The ingloriousness of war, and the basis of pain that would be passed down the generations like a cursed heirloom, is often seen even while in the most unadorned of images. Devoid of even the tiniest little bit of hope or humor, “Lessons of Darkness” offers the most chilling and powerful condemnation of humanity within a long career that has alway looked at us askance. —LL
The relentless nihilism of Mike Leigh’s “Naked” can be a hard beguiling teen arina d enjoys shaking her shapes capsule to swallow. Well, less a tablet than a glass of acid with rusty blades for ice cubes. daft sex David Thewlis, within a breakthrough performance, is over a dark night with the soul en route to the top of the world, proselytizing darkness to any poor soul who will listen. But Leigh makes the journey to hell thrilling enough for us to glimpse heaven on the way in which there, his cattle prod of a film opening with a sharp shock as Johnny (Thewlis) is pictured raping a woman within a dank Manchester alley before he’s chased off by her family and flees into a crummy corner of east London.
The people of Colobane are desperate: Anyone who’s anyone has left, its properties neglected, its remaining leaders inept. A major infusion of cash could really turn things around. And she or he makes an offer: x * * sexy video she’ll give the town riches further than their imagination if they comply with eliminate Dramaan.
But if someone else is responsible for creating “Mima’s Room,” how does the site’s website manage to know more about Mima’s thoughts and anxieties than she does herself? Transformatively tailored from a pulpy novel that had much less on its mind, “Perfect Blue” tells a DePalma-like story of violent obsession that soon accelerates into the stuff of the full-on psychic collapse (or two).
Adapted from the László Krasznahorkai novel in the same name and maintaining the book’s dance-influenced chronology, Béla Tarr’s seven-hour “Sátántangó” tells a Möbius strip-like story about the collapse of a farming collective in post-communist Hungary, news of which inspires a mystical charismatic vulture of a man named Irimiás — played by composer Mihály Vig — to “return from nude videos the lifeless” and gilf porn prey over the desolation he finds One of the desperate and easily manipulated townsfolk.
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Time seems to have stood still in this place with its black-and-white Television set and rotary phone, a couple of lonely pumpjacks groaning outside supplying the only noise or movement for miles. (A “Make America Great Again” sticker around the back of a defeat-up car is vaguely amusing but seems gratuitous, and it shakes us from the film’s foggy temper.)
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