I'm still not entirely sure if all of this gels, but Celia Rowlson-Hall's debut feature—a glorified cinematic dance piece—strikes me as too singular and fascinating to be able to wholly dismiss. I tried to make sense of it for Paste here.
I weirdly thought of Béla Tarr's The Turin Horse while watching Jim Jarmusch's Paterson...so, for Fandor Keyframe, I was allowed to write about why that was the case.
Seven episodes in the life of the titular medieval Russian icon painter, all of which add up to one of the most vivid and detailed cinematic depictions I've ever seen of the life of an artist. From naive optimism about human nature to an abject despair that leads him to swear off art-making for about 15 years, then finally a renewal of his passion with the help of a former monk and a young bellmaker (whose obsessive quest to finish…
Going into finally seeing this classic screwball comedy for the first time ever, I knew I was in for fast-paced dialogue and endlessly fresh verbal wit. The film certainly didn't disappoint on those fronts. Rarely have I seen a movie so brilliantly demonstrate the possibility of dialogue as pedal-to-the-metal action; I'm still reeling from having all that overlapping dialogue blast into my face for such a sustained period of screen time, especially in its second half!
I hadn't, however, expected…