The Hitchcockian setup of an obsessive voyeur with a telescope in A Short Film About Love is very familiar, but in place of a suspenseful mystery Krzysztof Kieslowski instead absorbs us in a compelling morality play concerning two opposed yet twisted perceptions of love – the romanticisation of one-sided affection, and the complete denial of its existence.
Marriage is not meant to be a one-size-fits-all package, as Buster Keaton so amusingly illustrates in his silent short One Week, demonstrating a level of comedic genius in his architectural inventiveness, creative framing, and wildly physical stunt work that explores the unique cinematic potential of visual comedy in the early days of film.
The vision of Warsaw that Krzysztof Kieslowski presents in A Short Film About Killing is a barren wasteland of mud and shadows, strained through a sickly, jaundiced filter that unnervingly reveals the truly grotesque horror in justifying the malevolent destruction of human life.
If its precursor was an examination of a young filmmaker’s first love, then Joanna Hogg counterpoints that in The Souvenir Part II with a thoughtful, autobiographical study of her first major loss, deconstructing the artistic and grieving processes with a keen meta-awareness and sharp compositional eye.
There is a quiet frustration in seeing haughty intellectual Anthony emotionally manipulate ambitious film student Julie in The Souvenir, and although it is clear which one Joanna Hogg holds more affection towards, her autobiographical self-reflection on toxic young love takes a touchingly nuanced understanding of the matter in its gentle pacing and affecting character work.
The three days we spend within freshman Jake’s microcosmic college bubble seems to stretch out in eternal bliss, a period which Richard Linklater delights in with richly defined characters lightly treading the line between hedonism and intellectualism, evolving Everybody Wants Some!! into an unhurried study of Generation X masculinity in all its youthful idealism.
Where Ingmar Bergman saw severe austerity in the landscapes of Fårö, Mia Hansen-Løve discovers optimism and fantasy, and in weaving those tones deep into her layers of storytelling around a filmmaking couple coming to the island in search of inspiration, Bergman Island becomes an affecting examination of originality and influence in art.
Preston Sturges’ confrontation of early Hollywood “message” movies in Sullivan’s Travels is a complex balancing act of conflicting tones, playing in the realms of slapstick, irony, and meta-humour to craft a screwball comedy unlike any that has come before.
It is an unassumingly bold move from Todd Haynes to dig deep into the antiquated conventions of classic Sirkian melodramas in Far From Heaven, as through gentle long dissolves and saturated autumnal colour palettes he delicately expresses the emotional sensitivity of his middle-class characters quietly rubbing up against the racial prejudices, homophobia, and class structures of 1950s suburbia.
Paolo Sorrentino weaves a light Christian mysticism into his autobiographical coming-of-age piece, The Hand of God, threading a theological sense of destiny and exquisite visual artistry through its narrative parallels of Italian folklore, sporting legends, and cinema culture.
