Alan Jeffrey

Always willing to help out those on the neverending hunt for that elusive film.

Favorite films

  • Harvest: 3,000 Years
  • Mukhamukham
  • Excalibur
  • Me, Grandma, Iliko and Ilarion

Recent activity

  • Pictures of the Old World


  • Whity


  • A Chinese Ghost Story


  • Disco Dancer


Recent reviews

  • Masquerade



    Is this the most expansive, abstracted Aravindan film yet, or is this just the one I’ve seen most recently?

    The compelling case here — and they all make their own — is Aravindan inevitably taking to the stage — and they all take to one — a literal one, though, with three walls on all sides and the camera serving as the fourth. The world beyond the diegetically sealed stage is depicted with the same single handful of locations and…

  • Punishment Park

    Punishment Park


    The black hole antithesis to Zabriskie Point’s baptismal orgy in the desert, inversely communing with the void via unchecked violence, moved only by its own banality, its fostered malevolence, its blithe victory. Put in the only kind of raised and ecstatic non-terms Watkins’ methods could arrive at when applied to the dire, stupid, self-parodying real-terms of U.S. hegemony. No room, time, or solid ground for the formal antics of your War Game’s or La Commune’s, projects seeking to shock consciousness…

Popular reviews

  • Stray Dogs

    Stray Dogs


    “One day, it started raining...” 

    Like a universal dream, like the fundamental regret of all finally put to the screen: out of the void comes a family, then love, then heartbreak, then great reaching and longing and straining of the soul to rekindle the undefinable something, then, at last, return, to whatever is left of home and the draws of the heart, right before time and space move into reclaim and transform all.  

    This kind of storytelling is the rarely…

  • The House in the Woods

    The House in the Woods


    “When there’s life...”

    On this day and for many to come, one of the greatest de-abstractions of war, giving face, dignity, and with a forwards stroke of grace and a backwards stroke of irony, life abundant to those it takes without need, running their sincere sacrifice over its fraudulent altar, to those not merely left behind but still alive, forwarding life as not merely the absence of death, and peace, the absence of war. This is the unobscured staying power of Pialat’s “de-abstraction”: six all too short hours sitting with the promise of people, per se animating life per se, not just foddering the battlefield.