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another loathsome barf job by Danish wacko Lars von Trier called Antichrist, in which pickle-faced Charlotte Gainsbourg, who always looks embalmed, prunes away her genitalia with garden shears. Naturally, it will show up shortly in the New York Film Festival, the official depository for movies nobody wants to see, where torturing the audience has become an acknowledged priority.
Yeah, go Rex! Have fun with it. I enjoy provocative writing even when it's a bit scattershot (Gainsbourg is a handsome woman,a sweetie-pie, and an icon in France, but she does look a bit embalmed at times). Unfortunately the reality of festival films and pleasure vs. pain is more complicated and it was the subject of some interesting speculation in a thoughtful
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JACQUES RIVETTE: Around a Small Mountain
CATHERINE BREILLAT: Bluebeard
PEDRO ALMODOVAR: Broken Embraces
MANOEL DE OLIVEIRA: Eccentricities of a Blond Hair Girl
CLOUZOT: Henri-Georges Clouzot's 'Inferno' (Bomberg, Medea 2009)
BONG JOON-HO: Mother
PIER PAOLO PASOLINI--The 'Rage' of Pasolini (Pasolini, Bertolucci, 1963, 2008)
ANDRZEJ WAJDA: Sweet Rush
CLAIRE DENIS: White Material
ALAIN RESNAIS--Wild Grass
All of these are excellent in their way and doubtless well worth seeing, but do not represent (or in the case of the two documentaries/analyses, refer to) the filmmakers' best work. The first ones, I can't get out of my head. I applaud their vigor, rigor, energy, and originality.