They are smoking and chewing gum and talking about desire in each preceding scene, of which there are four, all saturated in visceral blue: a mood, a reflection, an evocation of sex, the hottest part of a flame. We are piecing it together, one fire at a time. Everything points to an emergency, but Anne, the narrator, is strident in her denial and refusal to acknowledge her own looming catastrophe. Christine Hume on the 9th minute of Happening by Audrey Diwan.| 3:AM Magazine
Torrential rain and flickering neon, pedestrians of miscellaneous ethnicities bump umbrellas, struggle through tight alleyways between a downmarket electronics store and a line of crowded street-food stalls. Seated at the counter of a sushi bar, close-up on his face and open shoulders, an unnamed man in a noir-style classic trench coat rubs the splinters off his chopsticks. Behind his right shoulder appears a uniformed torso with a police badge pinned to a bulky stab-vest. The cop has a deep ...| 3:AM Magazine
The engine powering this parade of off-kilter lookalikes is the planet Solaris itself. It shows a disconcerting penchant for reaching into people’s minds and fashioning physical manifestations of whatever it finds there. (Kris and company dub these apparitions “guests,” in part because they have no idea what the visitors really are, but also because anything more precise risks existential horror.) The arrivals are seldom comforting, but always revealing. Solaris sends Kris multiple copi...| 3:AM Magazine
As if in the 25 years both fictional and real that have transpired between season two and season three of Twin Peaks, those two now-quaint categories of perception and experience have been on a collision course with each other — the real, unfolding in painstaking and incessantly cached broad daylight, while the fictional has festered about its Twin Peaks business in parallel, a black box stashed beneath the underside of some forested log — only to emerge and converge upon the temporal coo...| 3:AM Magazine
