The bulk of “The Boy Behind the Door” finds Bobby sneaking inside and—literally, quite commonly—hiding behind one particular door or another as he skulks about, trying to find his friend while outwitting his captors. As working day turns to night as well as the creaky house grows darker, the directors and cinematographer Julian Estrada use dramatic streaks of light to illuminate ominous hallways and cramped quarters. They also use silence successfully, prompting us to hold our breath just like the children to avoid being found.
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“Hyenas” is probably the great adaptations from the ‘90s, a transplantation of a Swiss playwright’s post-World War II story of how a Group could fall into fascism as a parable of globalization: like so many Western companies throughout Africa, Linguere has presented some material comforts to your people of Colobane while ruining their financial state, shuttering their sector, and making the people completely depending on them.
The film’s neon-lit first part, in which Kaneshiro Takeshi’s handsome pineapple obsessive crosses paths with Brigitte Lin’s blonde-wigged drug-runner, drops us into a romantic underworld in which starry-eyed longing and sociopathic violence brush within centimeters of each other and get rid of themselves inside the same tune that’s playing on the jukebox.
The climactic hovercraft chase is up there with the ’90s best action setpieces, and the tip credits gag reel (which mines “Jackass”-amount laughs from the stunt where Chan demolished his right leg) is still a jaw-dropping example of what Chan place himself through for our amusement. He wanted to entertain the entire planet, and after “Rumble during the Bronx” there was no turning back. —DE
The ‘90s included many different milestones for cinema, but Possibly none more necessary or depressingly overdue than the first widely dispersed feature directed by a Black woman, which arrived in 1991 — almost 100 years after the advent of cinema itself.
‘Useless Boy Detectives’ stars tease queer awakenings, picked out family & the demon shenanigans to come
That concern is key to understanding the film, whose hedonism is solely a doorway for viewers to step through in search of more sublime sensations. Cronenberg’s way is cold and clinical, the near-continuous fucking mechanical and indiscriminate. The only time “Crash” really comes alive is from the instant between anticipating death and escaping it. Merging that rush of adrenaline with orgasmic release, “Crash” takes the vehicle as being a phallic image, its potency tied to its potential for violence, and redraws the boundaries of romance around it.
While the trio of films that comprise Krzysztof ashemale Kieślowski’s “Three Colors” are only bound together by financing, happenstance, and a typical battle for self-definition inside a chaotic modern world, there’s something quasi-sacrilegious about singling amongst them out in spite in the other two — especially when that honor is bestowed upon “Blue,” the first and most severe chapter of the triptych whose final installment is usually considered the best amongst equals. Each of Kieślowski’s final three features stands together on its own, and all of them are strengthened by their shared fascination with the ironies of a Modern society whose interconnectedness was already starting to reveal its natural solipsism.
An endlessly clever exploit of the public domain, “Shakespeare in Love” regrounds the most star-crossed love story ever told by inventing a host of (very) fictional details about its development that all stem from a single truth: Even the most immortal art is altogether human, and a product weaning of many of the passion and nonsense that comes with that.
Of every one of the things that Paul Verhoeven’s dark comedian look within the future of authoritarian warfare presaged, the way in which that “Starship Troopers” uses its “Would you like to know more?
The ’90s began with a revolt against the kind of bland Hollywood product that people might get rid of to view in theaters today, creaking open a small window of time in which a more commercially viable American impartial cinema began seeping into mainstream fare. Young and exciting administrators, many of whom are actually main auteurs and perennial IndieWire favorites, were given the methods to make multiple films — some of them on massive scales.
This underground cult classic tells the story of a high school cheerleader who’s sent to conversion therapy camp after her family suspects she’s a lesbian.
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