The vivid imagination of Ingmar Bergman’s young protagonist in Fanny and Alexander is as enchanting as it is frighteningly dangerous, expressing itself through vibrantly festive mise-en-scène and impressionistic supernatural visions, and forming the basis of a deeply sentimental rumination on childhood wonder, trauma, and grief.
That Samuel Fuller deftly imbues White Dog’s allegory for racist indoctrination with all the tension of a pulpy horror film makes for an extraordinarily creative triumph, framing the titular animal as a two-sided monster as sweetly innocent as it is violently prejudiced, and thoughtfully questioning whether such deep-rooted conditioning can ever be separated from its instinctive nature.
In Fitzcarraldo’s absurd dream of building an opera house in the Amazon jungle and his even stranger endeavour of hauling a giant steamship up a mountain, Werner Herzog centres him as a tragic figure in an epic fable of extraordinary ambition, fully consuming his mind with a megalomania that threatens the foundations of his own conceited, fragile mortality.
It is through Peter Greenaway’s playful irreverence and painterly tableaux that the hollow power plays and puzzles of The Draughtsman’s Contract begin to reveal themselves, building out an obscurely Baroque murder mystery that disconcertingly envelops our titular artist in a plot beyond his comprehension.
