New York Film Festival — A–Z of films

Guadagnino is tilting at windmills and there isn’t even any wind.

Rosi expertly paints a picture of a community with all its widely varied facets.

As Blue Moon progresses it becomes clear that the one thing Hart really wants is to be wanted.

Somewhere between the low brow cock jokes and the high stakes – by which, I mean the sharp wooden pointy ones – Radu Jude serves up a sharp edged critique of populism, capitalism and the modern world.

The blurry, hazy images recorded entirely on a discontinued Sony Ericsson cellphone – frequently in long takes – make it a hardly digestible slow cinema challenge, yet rewarding as an aesthetic experience.

Duse is as much about the rise of fascism as it is about the decision making of an artist at a precarious time in her life.

The plot may be straightforward but the characters are offbeat.

In A House Of Dynamite the uncertainties are propulsive, what we learn unsettling. Each tick of the clock reorients our understanding of the same events.

Rose Byrne anchors the whole damn thing with a performance that gives the sense of wobbling for eternity on a tightrope without ever quite falling off.

The takes are usually long and static, but every cut and move is justified for the purpose of dramaturgy.

It's so lost in post-colonial anger that it falls foul of being disingenuous or a trap for European audiences.

It cannot be denied that Jay Kelly is interested in exploring the human condition through the lens of fame and fatherhood, but the romantic, sentimental, and saccharine tones come with a risk.

Blends a shaggy dog story with a road trip.

Burch and Jones clearly enjoy updating rich kid Myers and his literary salon pals to the present without ever falling into clownish cliché.

Rivers' dreamlike approach has the quality of memory in places, full of figments and fragments, although that inevitably means some episodes are more engaging than others.

Reichardt’s attention to detail is visible in every aspect, and the perfect casting is no exception.

As is true of many a tale, not all motivations are on the table right away, and finding rescue and respite with strangers can only last a mere while.

Guillaume Marbeck as Godard is pitch perfect, trademark dark glasses and tobacco smoke his indispensable props with even the voice uncannily resonant of the man himself.

Park keeps inviting us to laugh, then forcing us to confront what, exactly, we’re laughing at.

The film is a triumph of editing by Viridiana Lieberman, in terms of storytelling

Wishaw is an absolute wonder, delivering the conversational, sometimes stream-of-consciousness dialogue with a constantly engaging, almost hypnotic cadence.

The constant contrast is the trick, which later extends to the emotional stakes.

The film doesn’t answer every common question that people have in this situation, but it does provide some context.

Combining slick digital look with the look of various antique formats, from DV to super-8, Simón creates her very own smooth blend.

Jenkin’s style, impressionistic when it comes to places, is particular in regard to objects, the real anchors of our lives.

Marcelo is at home in the fine tradition of flicks where the fact that they are an agent is mainly a secret to them.

What marks Trier out is his ability to take on intellectual ideas like this but make them play out in ways that don’t feel forced or overly constructed.

The film looks amazing, but it sounds even more incredible.

The lives mirror each other, build on each other, contradict each other, haunt each other.

Chillingly restrained and quietly devastating