I like movies.
In its cinematographic elegance, its elegiac grasp of dramatic and tragic irony, the simplicity and emotional clarity of its characterization and crisscrossing lines of conflict, and its dramatically acute sense of materiality, it recalled the few films I’ve seen of Jean Renoir; though occasionally Fei will go full-bore into an intensity of visual expression and creativity that reminded me, even and however briefly, of F.W. Murnau or another silent expressionist. If that doesn’t sell you, well...
An extraordinarily fleet and thorough accounting of histories of white supremacist ideology, told through a combination of personal essay, pop culture montage and literary commentary, historical recreation and documentary narration. Peck nimbly weaves his personal history with 20th century scholarship intended as a corrective to the official, distorted narratives of imperials, drawing lines between the Crusades and the Spanish Inquisition, through American slavery and the genocide of its indigenous, to atrocities worldwide in Rwanda, Afghanistan, Vietnam, and especially colonized Africa…
“I am living in sin, and I will go to hell because of it.” -Martin Scorsese
Death always wins. One day it’s just you in your room, alone, with a dusty collection of photographs and memories. That’s all a ghost is, a memory: the past reaching out, not alive, but fitfully present. Flashes of this or that center themselves: a chance encounter, a fateful decision, a missed opportunity. Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) – who, to hear him tell it…