Jean Vigo’s tragically short filmography blazes with anarchic spirit and poetic invention, marrying revolutionary politics with lyrical surrealism to liberate cinema from convention, and celebrate truth in its most rebellious, heartfelt forms.
Woman of Tokyo does not deliver the formal impact of Yasujirō Ozu’s later masterpieces, yet there is a melodramatic tension in its exposure of one young woman’s scandalous double life, glimpsing the quiet devastation that lies beneath domestic stability.
Matt Shakman’s vision of the The Fantastic Four: First Steps may gesture towards greatness in its retro-futurist production design, but ultimately retreats into hollow grandeur, leaving behind a world rich in style for a superficial simulation that never dares to challenge its own utopian ideals.
Through Danny Boyle’s return to the horror series which redefined the zombie genre, 28 Years Later delivers an unexpectedly touching coming-of-age tale, confronting an apocalyptic world stripped of its humanity yet fostering a melancholy beauty that so many survivors stubbornly reject.
James Gunn’s blend of emotional sincerity and stylish flair in Superman offers a workable blueprint for the DC Universe, rejuvenating the alien hero with a radical, countercultural kindness, and nudging the genre towards stories that prioritise character over spectacle – without entirely sacrificing either.
The canal barge which becomes home to newlyweds Jean and Juliette may feel like an oppressive enclosure at times, yet Jean Vigo’s lyrical direction of L’Atalante also reveals it to be a sanctuary of healing, guiding them on a journey to the marital bliss that has so far eluded them.
Joseph Kosinski swaps jets for race cars in F1’s thrilling sports drama, stylishly redressing familiar tropes with sleek technical mastery, and turning its predictable rivalry into an electrifying, finely choreographed dance of collaboration.
The rule of law is little more than an arbitrary imposition of authority in Zero for Conduct, and it is up to the roguish schoolboys of one French boarding school to restore the natural order, as Jean Vigo playfully mounts a rising disenchantment towards anarchic revolution.
Amid The Phoenician Scheme’s epic entanglements of assassins, terrorists, and bureaucrats, it is within a dysfunctional family reunion where Wes Anderson unravels an unlikely spiritual redemption, mending broken bonds through one wealthy industrialist’s mission to execute his most ambitious project yet.
Perhaps the only thing longer than the title Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles is the film itself, as Chantal Akerman forces us to feel every passing minute of one homemaker’s fastidious routine, along with its gradual, psychological decay into exasperating chaos.
