America’s Largest Documentary Festival – Nov. 8-26
Anselm Kiefer, Liv Ullmann, Little Richard, Jack and Sam Top DOC NYC How does one approach a film festival too…
Anselm Kiefer, Liv Ullmann, Little Richard, Jack and Sam Top DOC NYC How does one approach a film festival too…
Film at Lincoln Center knows its audiences. Christian Petzold’s Afire (2023), a German drama of wildfires setting an entire forest…
Currently, the United States faces its own wave of censorship catalyzed by book bans, the destruction of DEI programs and overwhelming budget cuts to universities, news organizations and national education/art programs like PBS. All the while, the implementation of artificial intelligence around the world brings a threat of unreliable media and the decentralization of individual thought. With all of these elements at play, the need to combat suppression in the creative world is more dire than ever. With the potential for films to champion a diverse array of voices and stories, one of the most powerful spaces to protect this freedom is in the film festival realm.
I’ve questioned my own gaze for years. As a small child, I observed my three sisters — triplets eight years older than me — become women, and marveled at the power, allure and dynamism in femininity. Simultaneously I saw men lie, cheat and be violent in their reach for women. And I’ve gazed at myself in the mirror, watching my perception of self shift from day to day. My own perception of myself is as capricious as the winds, rising and falling with my mood, my cycle, the day’s events.
At last year’s Academy Awards, Lily Gladstone was the first Indigenous American to be nominated for Best Actress. Her nomination was one of 10 Oscar nominations for Martin Scorsese’s film “Killers of the Flower Moon,” which many celebrated as progress for Indigenous representation in Hollywood.
“THE MOST DARING FILM IMPORT EVER . . . FROM JAPAN!” is how Toho Studios first advertised “Onibaba” to foreign audiences. With a sex-centered plot that features disturbing, psychosexual encounters between characters, writer/director Kaneto Shindo’s intentionally controversial 1964 horror film pushed the limits of both Japanese and international censorship laws. Mildly censored in Japan and banned outright in countries such as the U.K., “Onibaba” serves as a deeply unusual combination of folkloric story and bold, modern sexuality.
Before he was murdered in his hometown of Umm al-Khair, Palestinian activist Awdah Hathaleen sent a final message to the West Bank Protection Consortium’s WhatsApp group:
“Urgent call — the settlers are working behind our houses. And the worst, they’re trying to cut the main water pipe for our community. We need everyone to act. If you can reach people like the congress, the courts, please do everything. If they cut the pipe — I’m sorry. If they cut the pipe, the community here will literally be without any drop of water.”
Post-WWII, the sixties were a period of military dictatorships and one-party governments around the world. In Europe, one of the only countries that had a military dictatorship, or junta, was Greece, after a bloodless coup orchestrated by the leadership of army colonel and subsequent Prime Minister Georgios Papadopoulos. This military junta inspired French-Greek filmmaker, Costa-Gavras, to create the film “Z” in 1969. Due to its critique of the government, the film would not be released in Greece until after the fall of the junta.
Written and directed by Ashley Monet Long and produced by Emerson’s own Mercutio Troupe, “Jamie Has A Bomb” centers the eclectic and mechanically-apt teenager Jamie (Maya Smith), who builds a bomb with the intent to self-detonate, and her pet goldfish Judas (Darrell Mondaine), who becomes determined to prevent her untimely suicide.
Attending DOK Leipzig for the first time this year felt like stepping into a vibrant constellation of urgent stories, bold artistic voices, and unexpected emotional turns. During the three last days of the festival, I encountered very diverse films that were each a revelation. My festival journey began with Vincent Graf’s “Nonna,” shown in a packed arthouse cinema in the heart of Leipzig, and I truly couldn’t have imagined a warmer introduction to DOK Leipzig. The film is an affectionate, spirited portrait of the filmmaker’s larger-than-life grandmother, whose vibrant, sharp-witted presence illuminates every frame.
“Snow White” (1916) was shown for one night only — and not one more — on Screen One of The West Newton Cinema, an independent theater nestled between a massage parlor and audiologist ten miles west of Downtown Boston. Current showings are pasted on the low marquee and the ticket booths are covered in multicolored post-its and flyers. It has stood on Washington Street for nearly 90 years, and was recently saved by the West Newton Cinema Foundation (or WNCF), a nonprofit organization formed by the local community to keep the theater alive through financial difficulties and the age of streaming.