Joan of Arc’s childhood is given a treatment that only Dumont could dream up—a period musical backed by heavy metal/rock music that is as madly fervent as it is wearisome.
Too overly-plotted, Petzold’s attempt at revising Casablanca for the modern age—and in his own oblique style and sensibility—doesn’t come out as deeply compelling as his best works.
Under Cocteau’s inventive sleight-of-hand, this early postwar work may be the most magical and poetic adaptation of the beloved fairy tale ever filmed.
Small-time scammers bite off more than they can chew in Chabrol’s rather uneven but perversely fun crime comedy, headlined by Isabelle Huppert and the scene-stealing Michel Serrault.
Two actresses share a minimalist stage as they perform the written correspondences from the late American poet-writer Sylvia Plath to her mother in this wholly intimate endeavour from Akerman.
Denis’ semi-autobiographical feature debut sees her reflect on the distant colonialist memory of being a white girl living in Cameroon, in a filmmaking style that is unmistakably hers—sensual, tactile and poetic.
Another good but not great murder mystery from Chabrol featuring the second outing of his snarky detective in a tale about immoralities.
An anomaly in Rohmer’s filmography, this beautiful if minimalist period costume drama about a woman who doesn’t know how she got pregnant feels like a stage exercise rather than an embracing, organic work.
Misplaced hate from the cancel culture mob aside, this debut film features superb performances from the kids, but as an exploration of the erosion of traditional values amid a culture of overt sexualisation, it doesn’t really go deep nor is it entirely convincing.
It’s not a terrific film but it’s still fun to watch the murder mystery unfold as Chabrol gives us the requisite atmosphere that balances humour with the macabre.
