Human ambition may strive for perfection in The Belly of an Architect, yet through Peter Greenaway’s formal orchestration of an obsessive artist’s mortal downfall, the imperfect present is woefully diminished between classical antiquity and a perpetually renewing future.
Red Sorghum’s step back into modern Chinese history deserves the poetic treatment of a folk epic for Yimou Zhang, as this ancestral fable intimately bridges the distance between generations, and paints rural vitality and resistance in lush, expressive brushstrokes.
It is easy to be swept away by the vibrant, opulent melodrama of The Home and the World, as Satyajit Ray renders the clash of ideologies as both a national and profoundly private battle, entangling one impressionable housewife in a politically-charged affair.
Cobra Verde may not be as tightly focused as Werner Herzog’s grander masterpieces, yet in this grotesque nightmare of one bandit’s mission to revive Western Africa’s slave trade, it brutally exposes the barbaric machinery of empires built on the systemic commodification of suffering.
Claude Berri does not set his Shakespearean tragedy of greed, scorn, and betrayal within historical halls of power, but underscores its meekness through the sun-dappled farms of 1910s France, witnessing the fateful, divine devastation wreaked upon two feuding families in Jean de Florette and Manon of the Spring due to a pair of blocked springs.
The sad state of the modern Italian film industry does little to dampen the spirits of its artists in Intervista, as Federico Fellini whimsically blurs the lines between life and his own film production, and celebrates the timeless relationships formed behind the scenes.
The passengers that gather aboard the cruise liner of And the Ship Sails On are an eclectic mix of European aristocrats, each individually targeted by Federico Fellini’s irreverently absurd sense of humour, and together making up a nautical class satire that revels in their splendid merriment and misfortune.
The outlandish matriarchal society that middle-aged philanderer Snàporaz traverses in City of Women is not quite a grand feminist statement, but rather a self-deprecating cinematic tool for Federico Fellini to pick at his own masculine insecurities, sprouting deliberations on gender and sexuality through a string of surreal, chaotic vignettes.
To truly revere a land as incomprehensibly vast and complex as Africa is to feed a connection to one’s own soul, and yet as Out of Africa absorbs us into Baroness Karen von Blixen’s bubble of romantic bliss, Sydney Pollack also develops a poignant metaphor that keeps her greatest love as distant as her nostalgic reminiscences.
Whether Terry Gilliam’s mischievous storyteller in The Adventures of Baron Munchausen is a hero, a liar, or both, he is undoubtedly a man who can reach the hearts of those who listen, constructing magnificently surreal worlds of aliens and gods that place him right alongside history’s greatest mythical figures.
