Two Film Poems Torn Out Of A Cinematic Anthology / FIPRESCI
Swerve lets us understand the fragility of even the mundane. We see queer bodies, bodies of colour navigating public spaces that are marked by the pandemic.
Swerve lets us understand the fragility of even the mundane. We see queer bodies, bodies of colour navigating public spaces that are marked by the pandemic.
Vital Voices from Indie Lit Publishers, hosted by The Community of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP), presents readings from a diverse array of independently published authors.
“We don’t strive for the perfect picture,” says Sachs in an interview shortly before her flight to Germany for the festival. “Instead, we look for ways and means to articulate our subjective perception in relation to reality.”
The negotiation between the body of the body and the body of the mind is another way of saying that things exist both as affections and as processes of meaning, and that filmmaking is the art of not choosing sides in that equation.
Filmmaker Ira Sachs’ sister, Lynne Sachs, investigates her controversial father figure: an extravagant Utah bon vivant, manipulative, selfish and seductive.
Lynne Sachs’s experimental documentary Your Day Is My Night (2013) traces this dispersed labor to the beds on which workers sleep—in this case, sharing the same mattress.
Curated into a screening called “Blood Ties,” each film reflects different understandings and re-imaginings of what it means to be interconnected with each other and the world around us.
“Metamorphosis of the gaze,” the title of Lynne Sachs’ film staff: from debuts to present days, from the decomposition of movement to time, from gesture to circle.
‘Hindsight is 20/20.’ It’s a double entendre, one of the best.