#kiyoshi-kurosawa

#kiyoshi-kurosawa

Film is like that. It developed from [the silent era] into Fellini and Bergman, Buñuel and David Lynch. [They] took these ideas and created a film that was really like a dream.

The zombie was actually a Haitian Vodou metaphor for slavery. For enslaved Africans in Caribbean colonies like Haiti, the theft of one's autonomy was akin to a walking death.

Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein earned nine nominations ahead of the 98th Academy Awards, but he did not win the Best Picture award despite the film's success in other categories.

Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging. At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The first thing you notice about undertone is how quiet it is; not just in its audio mix, but in how it's shot - primarily steady wide shots that slowly pan across empty rooms, allowing your eyes to frantically scan for something amiss. It's an understated form of filmmaking that allows for the movie's scares to hit all that much harder.

"I wanted it to feel how people have been living through, walking through (the city)," she said. "It's a massive city, Tokyo is, so just kind of find the right place for people around the world and have that experience."

Boris Karloff stands tall as one of film history's most iconic performers, particularly within the horror genre. Foremost known for portraying some of the most iconic monsters in film history, from his work as Frankenstein's Monster in Frankenstein, Imhotep in The Mummy, or voicing The Grinch himself, Karloff had a few distinctive attributes that made him one of the most memorable stars of the era.

It's a simple but effective premise: Your hero dies. He awakens, only to relive his last day. He dies again. Over and over, this cycle happens until our hero has conquered the time-loop he's stuck in, having become stronger, faster, and wiser in the thousands of times that he's been resurrected. It's the video game conceit, as a thrilling alien invasion story.

When a movie ends, Jim Jarmusch almost always gets sick. Which illness varies it could be a cold, the flu, or worse. The phenomenon has taken place for years. In his filmography, the director tends to post more questions than answers. In contrast, when it comes to his health, he has arrived at a clear conclusion: It's fucking hard to make a movie. And that's equally true if it's good or bad. It requires a lot of resistance and concentration.

At the narrative midpoint, pathetic protagonist Yoo Man-su ( Lee Byung-hun) - also a hobbying horticulturist with a bonsai mag subscription - arrives at the home of a man he deems a rival for one of the only paper jobs on the market. He wields a pistol concealed inside several oven gloves, intending to kill vinyl enthusiast Goo Beom-mo (Lee Sung-min) as a means of levelling the playing field.