It’s not often that a museum gets to directly respond to front-page, bolded-headline media coverage with an exhibition that both nourishes the public’s curiosity about the reported phenomenon and expands the perception of it as well. Deliberately or otherwise, Neue Galerie couldn’t have timed it better.
A turn-of-the-century period piece, largely without a plot, that takes place almost entirely in a single room — and directed by a man who’s almost as old as the medium within which he works, cinema itself? Of course. Why not?
Whenever a film arrives on the scene that has something exceptional, eccentric, or anomalous about it, it’s always likely to arouse the most excited, hyperbolic, and oftentimes varied response from critics. Pawel Pawlikowski’s Ida seems to have accomplished just this.
Before even opening The Object, Whitechapel Gallery and the MIT Press’s latest installment in the Documents of Contemporary Art series, the book’s title stares back, interpolates itself, asking questions: What is an object? Which object?
That protean, motley preoccupation sometimes called film theory has shown many faces over the years. But before today’s engagements with the medium’s correspondence with digital technologies and television, there was auteur theory.
Scorsese has recently organized a series, Masterpieces of Polish Cinema, comprised of 21 pristine digital restorations of Polish films released between 1957 and 1987.
It’s a sure sight for sore eyes to see the name “Stanwyck” emblazoned on a cinematheque marquee. Then again, not everyone today may be familiar with this name — but the uninitiated have every reason to stop in for one of the afternoon or evening double bills playing all through December at Film Forum.
The current Jean-Luc Godard retrospective in New York, admirably entitled The Spirit of Forms, reintroduces the French auteur’s films into familiar territory: namely, the New York Film Festival (NYFF) at Lincoln Center, where his work has made many memorable as well as infamous North American debuts.