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“Eyes Wide Shut” may well not seem to be as epochal or predictive as some of your other films on this list, but no other ’90s movie — not “Safe,” “The Truman Show,” or even “The Matrix” — left us with a more exact feeling of what it would feel like to live in the 21st century. Inside of a word: “Fuck.” —DE
Campion’s sensibilities speak to a consistent feminist mindset — they put women’s stories at their center and technique them with the necessary heft and regard. There is not any greater example than “The Piano.” Established from the mid-19th century, the twist about the classic Bluebeard folktale imagines Hunter as the mute and seemingly meek Ada, married off to an unfeeling stranger (Sam Neill) and transported to his home on the isolated west Coastline of Campion’s own country.
The terror of “the footage” derived from watching the almost pathologically ambitious Heather (Heather Donahue) begin to deteriorate as she and her and her crew members Josh (Joshua Leonard) and Mike (Michael C. Williams) get lost from the forest. Our disbelief was successfully suppressed by a DYI aesthetic that interspersed reduced-quality video with 16mm testimonials, each giving validity to your nonfiction concept in their own way.
Back in 1992, however, Herzog had less cozy associations. His sparsely narrated fifty-moment documentary “Lessons Of Darkness” was defined by a steely detachment to its subject matter, far removed from the warm indifference that would characterize his later non-fiction work. The film cast its lens over the destroyed oil fields of post-Gulf War Kuwait, a stretch of desert hellish enough even before Herzog brought his grim cynicism to the disaster. Even when his subjects — several of whom have been literally struck dumb by trauma — evoke God, Herzog cuts to such broad nightmare landscapes that it makes their prayers seem to be like they are being answered by the Devil instead.
Figuratively (and almost literally) the ultimate movie on the twentieth Century, “Fight Club” is definitely the story of the average white American male so alienated from his identification that he becomes his possess
“He exists now only in my memory,” Rose said of Jack before sharing her story with Bill Paxton (RIP) and his crew; through the time she reached the end of it, the late Mr. Dawson would be remembered via the entire gay porn world. —DE
That’s not to say that “Fire Walk with Me” is interchangeable with the show. Running over two hours, the movie’s mood is much grimmer, scarier and — within an unsettling way — sexier than Lynch’s foray into broadcast television.
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S. soldiers eating each other at a remote Sierra Nevada outpost during the Mexican-American War, and also the last lena paul time that a Fox 2000 government would roll as many as a set three weeks into production and abruptly replace the acclaimed Macedonian auteur she first hired for your occupation with the director of “Home Alone three.”
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“Saving Private Ryan” (dir. Steven Spielberg, 1998) With its bookending shots of the Solar-kissed American flag billowing inside the breeze, you wouldn’t be wrong to call “Saving Private Ryan” a propaganda film. (Perhaps that’s why one particular master of controlling national narratives, Xi Jinping, has said it’s certainly one of his favorite movies.) What sets it apart from other propaganda is that it’s not really about establishing the enemy — the first half of this unofficial diptych, “Schindler’s List,” certainly did outdoor sex that — but establishing what America may be. Steven Spielberg and screenwriter Robert Rodat crafted a loving, sexx if somewhat naïve, tribute to The thought that the U.
Slice together with a degree of precision that’s almost entirely absent from the remainder of Besson’s work, “Léon” is as surgical as its soft-spoken hero. The action scenes are crazed but always character-driven, the music feels like it’s sprouting immediately from the drama, and Besson’s eyesight of the sweltering Manhattan summer is every bit as evocative given that the film worlds he produced for “Valerian” or “The Fifth Factor.