There is a profound sense of anger that grows in you when you consume films as an LGBT+ person. You find that there are so few films that feature someone like you in them, and most of the ones that do are created by straight people who fetishize you or your community’s struggles. LGBT+ filmmakers who are given a platform are also rarely funded unless they create films which pander to a predominantly straight audience. It becomes exhausting never to see yourself on screen unless it is to die as a martyr for the larger cisgender, heterosexual population. This is why Arthur Bressan Jr.’s Buddies serves as such a well-praised pillar of queer cinema. And now, with its recent release on DVD and Blu-ray for the very first time, it is available to those whose lives it will no doubt change.Continue reading “Arthur Bressan Jr.’s ‘Buddies’ Is an Important Piece of Gay History That Needs to Be Seen”
Genre films have always gotten a bad rap. Even when they are praised, it usually feels like a backhanded compliment — “I turned off my brain and enjoyed the ride,” or “It was just a really simple and fun film” are often used to offer both praise and dismissal in equal measure. But there is power in simplicity. In Dark Waters, Todd Haynes knows when it is necessary, and how to harness it for the benefit of both the film and its audience. This is an impressive feat.Continue reading “Todd Haynes Uses Genre Simplicity to His Advantage in ‘Dark Waters’”
October is finally upon us! It’s the time for cozy sweaters, making everything taste like pumpkin and, most importantly, horror films. Of course, sometimes it can be hard to decide what to watch, and if you are anything like me one is never enough. That is why, for each week in the month of October, Much Ado About Cinema’s Monster Mash series is providing you with a double feature program and delving into why and how they go together like fava beans and a nice Chianti.Continue reading “Monster Mash: Medicalization of the Female Body in ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ and ‘The Exorcist’”
As a transgender man, I have a complicated, strange, and usually arduous relationship with masculinity. Why are men so obsessed with the fact that they are men? For people who claim to be independent and strong, why is is validation from someone they perceive as superior (read; more powerful) so important to them? Why is violence, hatred, and ugliness seen as so essential to being a man in mainstream society? I ask myself these questions constantly. They keep me up at night. The same questions seem to keep Riley Stearns up at night as well, as indicated in his new film, The Art of Self Defense.
Continue reading “Negotiating New Masculinities in ‘The Art of Self Defense’”
If you’ve ever seen a Jim Jarmusch film, it’s pretty easy to catch on to his style and cadence: the importance of music, a celebration of strangeness, and every character seems bored out of their minds no matter what’s going on around them. The Dead Don’t Die (2019) is no different, except this time there’s flesh eating zombies caused by corporate fracking. But don’t worry, Iggy Pop is still there.
A.T White’s debut feature film, Starfish, promises to be a strange, cosmic journey from the very start of the opening sequence. Beginning with a pitch black screen as voices cut in and out, disrupted by static which emits the feeling of a far away radio transmission, the first image we are shown is that of a snow covered mountain town, with a small and mysterious fire in the distance.
Starfish follows a woman named Aubrey (Virginia Gardner) grieving the debilitating loss of her recently deceased best friend, Grace (Christina Masterson). The first act of the film serves a strong, meditative look at loss, following Aubrey as she enters Grace’s home and flashes fragments of their memories together as she tries to live in a world without her. However, when Aubrey wakes up the next day she finds that strange creatures have entered her universe through some sort of radio signal that Grace was researching with a group of conspiracy theorists. Aubrey embarks on a scavenger hunt to find seven mixtapes created by Grace so that she can play them all together and save the world. What ensues is a stylistically diverse and experimental look at grief, guilt, and self-forgiveness.
In the last week of Black History Month, the Criterion Channel grants us a look into the newest film to be released in their collection – Charles Burnett’s 1990 film, To Sleep With Anger.
To Sleep With Anger starts off with an ominous long shot of a fruit bowl on fire, sitting idly next to a half-cut apple. As the credits role, we see Gideon (Paul Butler), the patriarchal figure of the film, dressed in all white church clothes. His chair is licked with flames, followed by his shoes, as we slowly fade to another shot of bare feet in dirt and realize that Gideon has fallen asleep holding his Bible and has been dreaming.
This opening scene is hauntingly beautiful and fascinating to watch, and serves as an omen for the rest of the film. Gideon and his wife, Suzie (Mary Alice) are an older couple with two sons and subsequent grandchildren living in Southern Los Angeles when one day they receive a visitor from their old home in the South – Harry, played by Donald Glover in one of his most powerful and unsettling roles to date. With Harry comes a sense of uneasiness, suspicion, and high tensions as his charming demeanor begins to unravel and bring forth a chaos within the family – particularly with Gideon’s youngest son, Babe Brother (Richard Brooks), who is frustrated by the way his father treats him and by the fact that he is not yet successful.