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“Magnolia” is many, many (many) things, but first and foremost it’s a movie about people who are fighting to live above their pain — a theme that not only runs through all nine parts of this story, but also bleeds through Paul Thomas Anderson’s career. There’s John C. Reilly as Officer Jim Kurring, who’s correctly cast himself because the hero and narrator of the non-existent cop show in order to give voice towards the things he can’t confess. There’s Jimmy Gator, the dying game show host who’s haunted by each of the ways he’s failed his daughter (he’s played through the late Philip Baker Hall in among the list of most affectingly human performances you’ll ever see).
Almost thirty years later (with a Broadway adaptation inside the works), “DDLJ” remains an indelible second in Indian cinema. It told a poignant immigrant story with the message that heritage will not be lost even thousands of miles from home, as Raj and Simran honor their families and traditions while pursuing a forbidden love.
Babbit delivers the best of both worlds with a genuine and touching romance that blossoms amidst her wildly entertaining satire. While Megan and Graham are definitely the central love story, the ensemble of consider-hard nerds, queercore punks, and mama’s boys offers a little something for everyone.
The outdated joke goes that it’s hard for just a cannibal to make friends, and Chook’s bloody smile of a Western delivers the punchline with pieces of David Arquette and Jeremy Davies stuck between its teeth, twisting the colonialist mindset behind Manifest Destiny into a bonafide meal plan that it sums up with its opening epipgrah and then slathers all over the screen until everyone gets their just desserts: “Consume me.” —DE
Developed in 1994, but taking place over the eve of Y2K, the film – set in an apocalyptic Los Angeles – is a clear commentary over the police assault of Rodney King, and a reflection around the days when the grainy tape played on the loop for white and Black audiences alike. The friction in “Odd Days,” however, partly stems from Mace hoping that her white friend, Lenny, will make the right final decision, only to view him continually fail by trying to save his troubled, white ex-girlfriend Faith (Juliette Lewis).
Gauzy pastel hues, flowery designs and lots of gossamer blond hair — these are some of the images that linger after you emerge from the trance cast by “The Virgin Suicides,” Sofia Coppola’s snapshot of five sisters in parochial suburbia.
“He exists now only in my memory,” Rose said of Jack before sharing her story with Bill Paxton (RIP) and his crew; through the time she reached the tip of it, the late Mr. Dawson would be remembered from the entire world. —DE
A profoundly soulful plea for peace within the guise of easy family fare, “The Iron Giant” continues to stand tall as among the list of best and most philosophically complex free adult porn American animated films ever made. Despite, or perhaps because of your movie’s power, its release was bungled from the start. Warner Bros.
As authoritarian tendencies are seeping into politics on a worldwide scale, “Starship Troopers” paints shiny, ugly insect-infused allegories from the dangers of blind adherence and also the power sexy bombshell slut drilled wildly in targeting an easy enemy.
“After Life” never points out itself — on the contrary, it’s presented with the boring matter-of-factness of another Monday morning for the office. Somewhere, in the peaceful limbo between this world as well as the next, there is actually a spare but tranquil facility where the lifeless are interviewed about their lives.
But Makhmalbaf’s storytelling praxis is so patient and full of temerity that the film outgrows its verité-style portrait and becomes something mythopoetic. Like the allegory from the cave in Plato’s “Republic,” “The Apple” is ultimately an epistemological tale — a timeless parable that distills the wonders of the liberated life. —NW
The ’90s began with a revolt against the kind of bland Hollywood solution that people might kill to see in theaters today, creaking open a small window of time in which a more commercially feasible American independent cinema began seeping into mainstream fare. Young and exciting administrators, many of whom are actually big auteurs and perennial IndieWire favorites, were given the sources to make multiple films — some of them on massive scales.
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When Satoshi Kon died from pancreatic cancer in 2010 xcxx in the tragically premature age of forty six, not only did the film world lose certainly one of its greatest sexy video film storytellers, it also lost one among its most gifted seers. Not a soul experienced a more exact grasp on how the electronic age would see fiction and reality bleed into each other about the most private amounts of human perception, and all four of the wildly different features that he made in his quick career (along with porn hup his masterful Television show, “Paranoia Agent”) are bound together by a shared preoccupation with the fragility of your self from the shadow of mass media.