When a sheep gives birth to a semi-horrific, semi-adorable creature on a lonely couple’s rural Icelandic farm, Lamb takes a small step away from the horror genre, and more into that of a psychological family drama, probing questions of how parenting instincts overlap with the welfare of such a unique, irreconcilably “different” child.
The blend of dry English humour and the brazen smarminess of American comedy in A Fish Called Wanda makes for a delicious mix of character dynamics, setting up the patriotic egos of both countries and then knocking them down a few pegs purely through their hilarious, bitter, and petty distaste for each other.
The greed of men has often been a preoccupation of John Huston throughout his career, but never has expanded it to the spectacular, godlike proportions we witness here in The Man Who Would Be King, which sets a rollicking adventure against an epic historical backdrop of nationalistic British imperialism.
A great achievement in screenwriting for Lawrence Kasdan, The Big Chill is his comical but touching ode to the lost idealism of the Baby Boomers living in Reagan’s America.
Mel Brooks’ irreverent satire of the entertainment industry’s grotesque exploitations wastes no time in zooming from one plot point to the next like a Marx Brothers routine, using the great comedic talents of Gene Wilder and Zero Mostel to not just match his brisk pace, but to push it even further.
Through Jia Zhangke’s interweaved motifs of colours and landforms in Ash is Purest White, he creates an epic character study of feminine strength, and its moulding in the fiery heat of adversity.
With a rigorous dedication to turning the Gothic architecture of Wuthering Heights into its own eerie character, William Wyler cuts right to the heart of Emily Brontë’s classic novel, submerging his tragic paramours in a ghostly melancholy that haunts them through life and death.
Keeping the spirit of silent cinema alive, Jacques Tati puts his flair for physicals gags and intricate architectural set pieces to use in Mon Oncle, sending up the consumerist culture of post-war France while offering hope in one playful, eccentric man this world isn’t as superficial, self-centred, or tangled as it seems.
Using the western genre as a simple framework for a self-contained moral tale warning against mob mentality, William A. Wellman’s thoughtful staging in The Ox-Bow Incident finds great empathy in the plight of three falsely-accused men.
There is a glossy sheen to the bizarre, theatrical world that stand-up comedian Henry McHenry lives within, and yet by the end of Annette, Leos Carax raises the question of just how much its peculiar details are simply the warped perceptions of an egomaniac unable to confront a reality that doesn’t place him at its centre.
