This year, Linklater opened and closed the festival season with two films: Blue Moon, which hit stateside cinemas this past weekend, and Nouvelle Vague (to be released theatrically on Halloween and then streaming on Netflix, the film’s US distributor, by the middle of next month). Though radically different formally and thematically, both films freeze exquisite moments in time—evoking more than just texture and sound, but a feeling of living in a time and place divorced very much from our own.

Luca Guadagnino is no stranger to critical acclaim - or Oscar snubs. In 2024, the Italian director delivered two strikingly different but equally lauded films: Challengers, a steamy, slow-burn tennis romance, and Queer, a moody adaptation of the William S. Burroughs novella. Both films were praised by critics, yet neither received a single Oscar nomination.

Yes, The Brutalist is long. It’s pretentious. It’s ambitious and unapologetically grand. But this is what makes it interesting. It’s a film that forces you to bear witness to an unchecked ego and sit with that discomfort. Far from being a stock tale of genius, the film is a complex (and flawed) meditation on the forces that can elevate and destroy a man.

There is one film, though, that I believe deserves the modern parallels it often invokes: A Face in the Crowd. Released in 1957 to moderate acclaim, the film is the work of Hollywood envelope-pusher Elia Kazan and screenwriter and novelist Budd Schulberg, whose eponymous collection of short stories the film is based on. A Face in the Crowd focuses on the meteoric rise of a jailbird from Arkansas.

The French New Wave was a radical departure from conventional filmmaking. Utilizing jump cuts and location shooting on a yet-unseen scale, the movement prioritized low-budget, singular films that allowed creatives to break out of the confines of the studio system. New Wave films were further proof for domestic and international audiences that film was more than mere entertainment.

Sam Peckinpah occupies a unique station in the canon of American film directors because he found success just before the creative floodgates of New Hollywood. He then went on to push the boundaries of what could and couldn’t be shown on film—crafting works more transgressive than many of his younger peers. This made him the target of studio meddling and censorship, but his legacy is nonetheless founded on grit, ingenuity, and daring.

Succeeding Game of Thrones (GoT), one of the most widely discussed and watched shows in television history, is no easy job. The shows will be compared, and previous baggage always remembered. House of the Dragon, a show about the rise and fall of a ruling house in the GoT universe, stares down that daunting prospect with aplomb and more.

More last testament than love letter, Derek Jarman’s 1993 experimental film Blue was as unique and challenging then as it continues to be today. More radio play than movie, it’s 79 minutes of an entirely blue saturated screen, over which two interwoven stories braid together to weave a story of Jarman’s recollected, daydreamed, restless experiences of living with AIDS in 1990s London, and the adventures of blue itself as a color and a character. Punctuated throughout are the ghostly names of Jarman’s former friends and lovers already lost to the disease.

Every time I go to Las Vegas, usually for work to spend time in a light-locked, soulless conference room listening to the obvious masquerading as professional advice, I think the same thing. That there’s a deep, longing melancholy to the place. A sadness behind the bright neon lights of the strip, the omnipresent din of the casinos, and the faces of those who’ve come to Sin City seemingly to let loose and get away from it all. Far from the oasis in the desert in promises, the city aches with loss. An unfulfilled hope of gambled pleasure, and drawn like moths to the flame by the flashing billboards, and where darkness never truly descends, we wander around in the half-light neon glow of the desperate attempts to separate us from our time and money.

The dissipating buzz surrounding The Whale (2022) was inevitable considering that its only major attraction post its film festival run were the names attached, namely those of the director, Darren Aronofsky, and star, Brendan Fraser. Although their star power can be felt in this film, it is not nearly enough to make The Whale seem like anything more than it is: a typical Oscar-baity, A24, indie “think-piece.”

German film director Werner Herzog often reminisces of the lost art of being able to trust our eyes. How everything we see in modern movies is informed by digital manipulation, sophisticated editing, and the sheer total commercial management of putting something on the screen. He laments the early days of cinema, where what was projected was so believable that, so the stories go, audiences would flee terrified from their seats at the prospect of a train coming towards the camera. Somewhere along the way, we lost this terror.

Irma Vep is the film lover’s dream – to get to watch a fictional production with all the troubles and beauty of the filmmaking process put on full display.

When older generations say that they don’t make movies like they used to, they’re talking about Sergei Bondarchuk’s War and Peace films, released between 1966 and 1967. An absolutely breathtaking series of four individual movies spread out over seven hours, they recount Tolstoy’s epic tale of Russian aristocratic and military perspective during the Napoleonic invasion of the early nineteenth century in elaborate, authentic and highly orchestrated detail.

Attempting to adequately interpret David Lynch’s Twin Peaks is a fool’s errand, but since its release in 1990 it hasn’t stopped thousands of well-intentioned sleuths from trying. The attempts to connect the numerous disparate threads of story and character with broader themes of anything from societal collapse, the interpretation of dreams, alternate realities and autobiography itself have far eclipsed the original two seasons.

In late 1969, Stanley Kubrick was busy. His career-defining 2001: A Space Odyssey had been an enormous directorial and technical success, he was in the middle of editing the dystopian A Clockwork Orange, and beginning to circle what he thought would be his next grand project, a definitive biographic story of Napoleon. Like all Kubrick projects, especially those following 2001: A Space Odyssey, the process for developing the script, and the sheer effort which went into the production was total. For years, Kubrick had planned to create a biographical film of Napoleon’s life, and had engaged hundreds of production staff in gathering as much information as possible about the era. From costumes, interiors, historical records, surviving written evidence, academic historiography, everything was completely exhaustive, and all of it would go into the creation of what Kubrick believed would be one of the greatest historical films ever made.

It’s rare to have out-of-body experiences, and it’s even rarer to have an out-of-body experience in anticipation of the actual out-of-body experience. I had several such experiences in anticipation of the 4K UHD Restoration Premiere of action epic Heat at the Tribeca Film Festival. The anticipation was a product of both seeing a movie that came so highly recommended and also getting to see in person revered screen legends Al Pacino and Robert De Niro talk about their craft and career. And it did not disappoint. Watching them I was not only transported at once to many of my favorite films but was able to understand the deep and painstaking filmmaking process that gave us so many timeless classics.

And just like that… I watched every episode of Sex and the City. I must be a really good judge on how to spend my time!

I think the best moments in movies are when it’s a cold, gloomy, rainy Sunday afternoon, and you decide to roll the dice on an independent movie at The Ritz based solely on the poster. You’re usually in there with a few other people, frequently older couples who smuggled in some sandwiches, perhaps also using the cozy embrace of the theater to get out of the elements. The theater runs through its usual collection of foreign language trailers, which often only serve as a great ‘wait… wasn’t he in that other thing?’ game that is guaranteed to torture you for the rest of the movie until you can safely put your mind to rest with some solid online sleuthing.