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You haven't a cigarette, have you, Doc?
Full of zingers and pizzazz, but fuck me sideways that scene of her shaking hand had me asphyxiated

This review is an open call for all Metrograph patrons at the 8:35 PM screening to discuss in the comment section below:a) WAS THE ROW C WOMAN WHO SLAPPED THE ROW D MAN IN THE RIGHT ? DID THE METROGRAPH STAFF GET THE FULL STORY? SHOULD SHE HAVE BEEN ALLOWED TO FINISH THE MOVIE? 

In my opinion—had eyes on the slap— a) yes, b) no c)yes

Watched on Friday May 30, 2025.

Me and the girls on the languishing to blossoming uptick

I will re-watch this with anyone.

Half at metrograph half at home tucked up in bed. (That’s a first)

Watched on Wednesday May 14, 2025.

Relieved to have given this movie a second chance. How wrong I had been only last December to constrain it to a pithy screen. Or perhaps it was my own small mindedness?  Here, the breathing room mr. Sirk intended. Here, the traversing of distance between faces, finding the nuance of blues in shadows, seeing the knife edge of white light reflected in a red polished nail.

We three were left sunken in our chairs long after the theatre emptied, positively waterlogging the velvet with our tears.

Pool players poster behind the bunk bed

Rupa’s Disco Jazz playing at the Taj Mahal

Beat drop rhythm refrain

Wasis Diop soundtrack pulls this above Touki Bouki in my humble opinion. So glad I waited to see on the big screen… only logging things I’ve enjoyed these days

The heart is a very resilient little muscle

Flesh appears as pale and gelatinous egg whites, scrambling for intimacy and recognition! 

Emerging bleary eyed from Lee Kang-sheng at midnight rooting around in my handbag for my loose square of dark chocolate.

Colonel Kranau, your smirk lights a fire in my loins.

Beautiful, sleek tigress, you must have your victims! For a whole month I have done nothing but seek you eagerly. I have thrown over everything for you, and you love to see it. Now then, I am sure you knew all this without putting me through your examination. I surrender. Here you have me—now, eat me.

If there was anything missing from the revised text it was the above.

Here marks the end of a second instalment of
‘three-night-adventures’ in Florida. 4.5 hour commute door to door from work on the lower east side to my friends’ place in west palm beach. 
Bathed in the radiating nimbi of two glowing women, with whom I enjoyed hours of reading by the pool, writing, swimming, trading advice, and eating racks of ribs. Bob Dylan, you would’ve fucked with our vibe.

Now THAT is an audience. Wherever we were on the spectrum, I like it.

Winners for me are the chair set-up in the auditorium or "HOLD IT!"

Well well well, very much enjoyed this bizarre pacing. As though a big lake of standing water gathering moss and algae suddenly has the drain wrenched and reveals a tiled floor!

NB: Doesn't matter if you are a self-flagellating hair-shirt nun or a lace-trimmed habit busty nun; EVERYONE gets to wear eyeshadow.

In 48 hours I’ve been to church twice, seen a priest movie, and have a nun movie tonight.

Watched on Saturday April 12, 2025.

Not sure why it’s called bad lieutenant since he catches the bad guys which would make him a good lieutenant.

Resplendent and delicious with a side of saccharine bourgeois froth. Misty-eyed, rain on the windshield, spray of the ocean...car and horse scenes were the best.

Just two ladies audibly gasping at the superimpositions, waltzing dresses lightly sweeping the floor, the chill of a Connecticut lake.

Don't make the good girls go bad!!!! 

Complaining to my ‘boss’ about how many terrible films I’ve seen of late. My lamentation did not fall on deaf ears, for the director of this truly excellent documentary happened to be in the bookstore at this exact moment. She proffered her screening at the Quad to remedy my malaise and my homesickness for Scotland (another of my complaints). Headed to the serendipitous screening after work and was transported to the exact land where I needed to be. Thank you mr. hermit of Trieg. Thank you Lizzie. Thank you moss, wet bark, glistening river trout, and roses.

Meow meow meow, like a cat on heat. Found it clumsy and silly– it feels like a lot of directors who make sex movies haven’t really had sex?

Watched on Friday April 4, 2025.

I got off work at 7pm Sunday for a three day ‘weekend’, found a flight to a place I’d never heard of by the beach in Florida for the next morning. $0.47 thank you Delta miles. Solo mission. Up at 5am, shoved port, bikini, phone charger, and spare shirt into a bag with my toothbrush, toothpaste and sunscreen. Swam in the ocean and sat in the sand for three days. Didn't speak to a soul, just read and wrote and drank milkshakes and ate sandwiches. During my final swim this morning I exchanged a couple words with an old man. He was a taxidermist. Back to the airport and finished L’Atalante on the flight back to work with sand in my hair and salt on my cheeks so it feels like a 4D movie.

As the lights went down I vividly ed the entire plot and ending. Unfortunately, I must say this dulls the film a little.

Making note of this so that I can discuss with more of those present on Saturday.

No this is NOT how to have fun.

First experience watching porn in a small cinema– fascinated by the total immobility that settles over the room during particularly extreme scenes. Palpable transformation, big sigh after the pegging scene

"Madonna, Madonna, help me to change my life. Bestow your grace on me too. Make me change my life." One of the most desperately, magically, impossibly devastating images to be suspended before my eyes.

Charming but lacking in a certain je ne sais quoi. Perhaps the bar has been set too high by the Jean Louis-Barraults and Buster Keatons of the world, who walk hand in hand with both folly and melancholy. Le Million is the first sip of foam from the surface– i'm looking for a deep gulp of the potion itself these days.

*Film forum matinee and Metrograph evening to bookend the completion of Steinbeck (east of eden) with a slice of pie at washington sq diner, before sneaking back in to NYU for a lecture.

Reading Bohumil Hrabal, watching Czech films, asking for the check.

An avian profile, eyes all pupil, sharpened talons, the light tap of jewelry–this woman is a magpie of the night gathering food for her nesting bairn.

This metallic behemoth might have made its filmic debut as a mere image in and Goldeneye, but here, it stars as mechanized loneliness.

Screened at Cabinet before Trevor Paglen/Eva Diaz conversation. Loving my job.

Night terrors alleviated by short bursts of breath, only to devolve into choking, hyperventilating, and spluttering once more. Deliciously sordid beauty!

Carrot cake at B&H just before closing. Steinbeck in bed.

Will eat a waffle tonight.

El was a grip of steel around the arm, leaving marks over which I continue to trace this morning. I’d like to understand the shape of this imprint, and what existing depressions it might have overlayed with. The perils of a lightning bolt of love (dare we allow it to be named as such?) sent from the storm clouds that slowly gathered since birth. The meandering walk of madness.

Ginger Rodgers was done so dirty!!! My girl deserves a better fate

Extremely drawn to this foray into translation, and the general linguistic bent– particularly the Pavlovian game of audio-visual mnemonics. Sadly soured by the decision to constrain Sappho's eternally powerful fragments by overly forcing them in to some mid dialogue within a tepid narrative structure. The whatsapp voice-note thing was very gimmicky. Leave the Korg out of it, I'm sticking to Anne Carson.

All I know is that I know nothing OTHER THAN the fact that Gerard. Depardieu. Fucks.

His face is absolutely messed up and something must make up for it?

Laying out in the sun listening to my favorite love songs inspired a desperate need for a tragic love story that would make me cry. The obvious answer was to double feature Blue Valentine and Pialat's Loulou. Made infinitely better by the projectionist who screened the reels in the wrong order, followed by five minutes of sitting in the dark in silence while they fixed it. If i could have it my way, every screening would begin with a few minutes of sitting in the dark in silence. Visual edging.

That hesitating hand certainly moved me, but truthfully my main takeaway is that I could look at Monica’s face for hours. Beauty incarnate

If you walked past the bookstore at closing, you would have seen a makeshift HAPPY BIRTHDAY sign along with a bouquet of flowers, patiently awaiting their unsuspecting recipient. And if you walked past the bookstore at midnight, you would have seen a merry band singing HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my boss’ incredible girlfriend. And between the time it took to prepare the surprise and surprise the surprisee? You would have seen me clasping my hands with joy at this Preston Sturges marvel. One of the best to ever do it.

When I saw Lucienne Boyer’s name in the opening credits I knew this would be an audiovisual meditation of immense proportions. I continue to be incredibly impressed with La Clef Revival’s collective—consider donating a little to keep their work going and come by Aeon Bookstore to pick up some French film books along with a copy of La Clef’s NYC screening program this week.

I should HOPE my husband leaves me for a younger woman… go get em tiger! :-*

Childhood was 20% this
30% IF...
20% Dead Poets Society
20% Wild Child
10% Nymphomaniac: Vol. I

Fourth watch: things are unravelling that I didn’t know were wound. I’m missing my summer at the Bergman Center and the feeling of stones underfoot on that very beach. I watched movies every day and almost pissed my pants in Bergman’s home (thanks to A Rabbits Foot for immortalising this embarrassment)

10/10 for the greatest rakish debonair I’ve seen on the silver screen. A perfect double feature with Sherman’s March. This has got me going: https://youtu.be/_oAgkTwFRuM?si=MO6UmOjv3BFM4A23

• Army of Shadows
• Road
• Compartment No. 6
• Opening Night
• Shame
• Network
• Kes
• The Cranes Are Flying
• Birth
• The Firemen's Ball

...plus 2 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

• Phantom Thread
• Thief
• Under the Skin
• Hackers
• Pather Panchali
• Tenebre
• Babylon
• Midnight Cowboy
• Cold War
• Climax

...plus 30 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

My beautiful sister

• The Daytrippers
• Paper Moon
• What's Up, Doc?
• Fat Girl
• Pillow Talk
• Desert Hearts
• A Separation
• McCabe & Mrs. Miller
• The Vanishing
• Boyfriends and Girlfriends

...plus 22 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.