neilahunter

The peculiar vitriol of some posts suggests that if you want to make films where it appears the film-maker is doing nothing, some people are going to think that the film-maker is doing nothing. Reichardt seems to have been on a journey to eliminate the contrivances of plot in search of a new way of showing us the world. For myself, I find her recent films strangely compelling - I say strangely, because they compel in a manner that is different from the standard strategies used by film-makers to compel us.

Maybe not for everyone, but Reichardt is offering the friendly viewer the freedom to navigate their own way around this world - a world depicted with great subtlety and delicacy. Her direction may be extraordinarily unemphatic; but when every performance is so pitch perfect, so detailed, so precise, so nuanced, you may be sure the director is doing something.

The film initially grabs you with its air of mystery, all the things it hasn't told you about what's happened in the past. And then it sucks you into a story in the present, a criminal education, and a wonderfully ambiguous relationship between the boy and his new employer. But what does the boy really make of it all?

It's fast moving, engaging, often surprising, but never opaque. What holds you, apart from a magnetic central performance, is the style: every shot seems to containing meaning, and edited to the very bare bones.

The director made an earlier film, From Afar, that was also powerfully cinematic; this is its equal.

Three times the length of Titicut Follies, I can't say it's three times as impactful, though for sure the endless shots of men shuffling along the open corridors between cells and guard rails does sear itself into your senses. And if one person's 'immersive' is another person's 'boring', amidst the quieter observational material Wang Bing has filmed some extraordinary scenes, sometimes painful, sometimes moving. You may find yourself becoming unreasonably anxious about the fate of a bag of tangerines brought in by one spouse: a sign that the film's sheer length has its effect. If documentary exists on a spectrum between observational and explanatory, this is very much at the extreme end of the first type; although final captions answer some of the questions - why are these men here? What would they have to do to get out? - that will have nagged you for three to four hours.

The more you get to know the characters in this film, the more engaging it becomes; the paradox is that they seem to want to escape most of humanity, as a result of tragedy or trauma, but not Rosi's camera; and they form some sort of community in spite of everything. If you like this kind of thing, check out 'Bombay Beach', a visually striking portrait of people living by the nearby Saltoun Sea.

As good a picture of England pre and post Brexit as I've seen in doc form (or scripted, for that matter) - unvarnished. Added bonus is the film finds time to introduce us to some fascinating characters, whether you agree with them or not. Film-maker deserves kudos for getting so many people, of all stripes, to speak so frankly.

It's a mystery to me why this film is not better known. If the director hadn't died so young, perhaps her continuing career would have brought it the attention it deserves. Highly compressed depiction of life under war in the Caucasus, eighty minutes and never a dull shot, slender story is filled out with poetic imagery and a vivid sense of enduring life.

It's interesting to contrast this film with Elle, a much bolder, or louder, treatment of a similar idea. I think both are good.

The screenplay is admirably reticent, unafraid of banality, and scrupulously realistic. All the supporting characters have stuff going on in their own lives, which we often only glimpse, and which reflect tangentially on the theme. But the real gold here are the performances, which I found endlessly fascinating and believable, subtle, and sometimes surprising - like life.

It's a film that grows in authority as it stays true to its characters, exploring the effect of trauma on a relationship which is not strong enough to survive it. I liked the way we are invited to interrogate the boyfriend's character as much as the man who committed the rape (a rape scene that is extremely well handled). Although some have taken issue with the abortion subplot, it works very well to force the issue when she discovers she needs a consort to drive her home.

It is an abrupt ending (in keeping with the aesthetic of sharp, propulsive editing that keeps the film flowing), but also a proper ending: finally, she is taking a stand.

A surprisingly mesmerising, low-key portrait of a small (and evidently dying) community. First half contains an elongated, but fascinating, depiction of the fishing business. from boat to mouth (cats' mouths, as it happens), out of the Wiseman playbook. Second half focusses more on the lonely life of a local character. In its quiet way, it's really very good.

I note the very large number of one star reviews of a film that has only played festivals - hmm, that's curious. What could that be about?

For the record (and I'm not the film's target audience) this is a rather sophisticated YA film, a mix of teen romance, female self-empowerment, and the politics of Black Lives Matter. Chewy subject matter - police violence, the unconscious racism of bien-pensant privileged whites, divisions within the black community - is treated quite interestingly. There are contrivances, but for all that, it's very well done and I suspect it will be a hit.

Shades of Billy Wilder, Milos Forman and the Coen Brothers (he just wants his watch back) sit lightly on this meticulously-plotted and wittily-shot film. The joy is in the detail: the watch, the minister's shoes, the trouser-exchange. It's a film with a lot to say, but it keeps its gaze at the human level.

It's not a tidy documentary (it's not a tidy story) and there are loose ends and moments where the focus blurs, but at its heart is a riveting, unforgettable portrait of a narcissistic woman whose children and grandchildren are inevitably caught up in her wake. Made by her grandson, it has a wonderful intimacy too (especially with her two sons).

This extraordinary documentary depicts a village's struggle against an ever-encroaching Israeli settlement, and the security barrier which deprives them of half their land. Briskly told, it contains visceral images of clashes between demonstrators and the Israeli army - the film- maker has really got in there, and often from behind and among the tear-gas wielding Israeli soldiers. Not just tear-gas; one casually shocking moment witnesses a Palestinian prisoner being shot in the leg by his Israeli captor, with other soldiers standing by his side. Another memorable episode, which Kafka might have appreciated, has the film-maker wakened by soldiers. His home has been declared to be within a Closed Military Zone, and therefore he has to stop filming.

Yet the law is not merely a tool of oppression; with the help of Israeli activists, the village successfully appeals to the Israeli Supreme Court to have the fence moved, so that the villagers may regain access to some of their land (even if the settlers have burned the olive trees on it). The film is co-directed by an Israeli, and it's claim to greatness lies in its often implicit depiction of the inextricable entwinement of Palestinian and Israeli lives. When the film-maker, in an accident that a fictional film would reject as overly symbolic, crashes into the wall, it is a Tel Aviv hospital that likely saves his life (although, not cheaply).

The film also focuses on the youngest of the film-maker's four sons. And we are left wondering: what happens to a child who has witnessed what he has witnessed?

A low-key but highly engaging documentary about a corporation's attempt to mine a mountain in the Indian state of Orissa, and the resistance of the tribe that lives on the mountain.

If the subject sounds dry, the film-maker compensates with a breezy and charming approach, presenting himself as a somewhat hapless director at the mercy of two local guides who may be more interested in the film-maker's vehicle than his project. His failure to be in the employ of the BBC is also a disappointment.

The refusal of the company, Vedanta, to participate (apart from an unexpected encounter with an employee with an amusingly unrefined approach to p.r.) obliges the director to investigate more closely the lives of his guides, and to question what effect his own work is having on them. Especially in the light of certain sinister events.

The score of Once Upon a Time in the West is mined to cheerful effect.