Turner, to the contrary, is no drone. His musical theme is jazzy, spontaneous; it clashes with the static-like white noise of the computer’s scanning device, its spinning tape reels and nonstop dot-matrix printing. Forever late to work, Turner prefers — like Bartleby the Scrivener — not to become a smoothly functioning cog in a mechanism that he perceives as alienating. Across a New York City whose streets are dominated by hulking cars and trucks he rides a Solex, the French motorized b...| 3:AM Magazine
If the patriarchy defines the rules of the society in which the narrative is set, however, then it sits on the periphery. The focus, instead, is on how desire builds and is felt, as Marianne and Héloïse become lovers. The relationships in the film that are defined by power, ownership and oppression, are the antithesis of the one formed between Marianne and Héloïse. As the latter begins to paint the former we see an affair born between equals. And, tellingly for a film that is about the re...| 3:AM Magazine
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen Performance. I’d seen it thirteen times before 1976. No matter to which strata of the sclerotic British class structure you belonged in the early seventies, you were woven into the social fabric by the music you absorbed, the books you read, the bands you saw, the squats or rentals where you lived, your connections to the hardcore criminality of the drug scene that fuelled the sixties/seventies outsider culture. By Des Barry.| 3:AM Magazine
In the popular imagination, dead babies go to heaven to pray for those left on earth; they become tiny lawyers, representatives and advocates of those lucky or unlucky enough to stay behind. In this idea, and Violeta's lyrics, which she picked up from conversations with people in bars and plazas during her travels through Chile, there is a belief in terrestrial reincarnation, similar to that of certain Eastern religions. Each death is mysteriously linked to the seed of new life; substance bec...| 3:AM Magazine
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
