The Disappearance of My Mother honors the staunch conviction and introversion of Benedetta Barzini, who shunned Warhol celebrity for political solidarity, and in her later years, Spartan solitude.
With her devotion to cats and heart-shaped everything, Varda personified adorably unconventional thinking — without apology or apparent self-consciousness.
Hujar wrote that his portrait subjects were “those who push themselves to any extreme” and those who “cling to the freedom to be themselves.”
While his political commitment comes through in many works, it’s hard to square talk of “revolution” with Ai Weiwei’s staggering mainstream US success.
The Centre Pompidou’s Dora Maar honors Picasso’s famous muse for the pivotal part she clearly, and often daringly, played in the establishment of the European avant-garde.
A Bigger Splash, Jack Hazan’s 1974 documentary on Hockney’s circle, basks in the full-frontal, day-to-day details of their tightly interwoven emotional lives.
In both High Life and Non-Fiction, Binoche is a temptress equally tender and intimidating.
Balancing verité grit with sometimes-howling humor, Matteo Garrone’s new movie is subtler than what viewers might anticipate.
The female-forward characters and the matrilineal Wayúu tribe the movie orbits have gone surprisingly under-explored by film critics.
Virginia Lee Montgomery toys with the psychic space in which abjection is gendered, playfully prodding erotic hierarchies.
The subjects of Wiley’s Ferguson paintings launch a vibrant dialogue between the canvas of the painting and the canvas of the body.
While the female protagonists in Barbara Loden’s Wanda and Susan Seidelman’s Smithereens may be lost — and legitimately poor — the one thing they are not is self-pitying.