And now as we start to make the turn toward autumn, and Barnes & Noble’s 50% off sale is happening now, Criterion has another batch of works for you, including a must-have collection from a renowned director who led the way in feminist-driven stories during the French New Wave. Three new films are added to the collection and a German New Wave satire on political media gets renewed for the month. Here is the next list of influential works from the Big C.

Toni (1935)

Director Jean Renoir was acclaimed in this decade for The Grand Illusion and The Rules of Game, but his melodrama was cited as a good film, nothing more. But Toni is an important feature of the French New Wave and Italian neorealism because the movie was shot on location with non-professional actors. An Italian man goes to Southern France in search of work, staying at a boarding house owned by a local woman who he falls in love with until he meets a Spanish seamstress also arriving in town. Luchino Visconti was an assistant director and helped him with his directing ambitions later on and so did many others.

The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum (1975)

The main film getting a re-release, then husband-and-wife directing duo Volker Schlöndorff and Margarethe von Trotta created an atmosphere of trial-by-media that was so common in West Germany as the country was under siege by left-wing terrorists. A woman unwittingly sleeps with a man whose connections mark her for life as a living Mata Hari and both the press and the police make sure she becomes a living symbol of evil in the area. How relevant is that today with all the social media and the quick suspicions and the filthy political ambitions of many wanting to tear someone down for being at the wrong place at the wrong time?

Town Bloody Hall (1979)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccmPg88kIFM

It’s a documentary, but when watching, you can easily forget about that. The setting is April 30, 1971, at The Town Hall in New York City. Several feminist advocates in the women’s liberation movement debated author Norman Mailer for his work, “The Prisoner of Sex,” which they found it unfair for critiquing the movement and questioned Mailer’s own views because of past works that were considered misogynistic. (Strange Fact: He nearly killed his then-wife in 1962 with a ballpoint pen in a drunken rage.) The battle of intelligentsia and the sexes is a funny struggle amongst a cultural debate that dominated the 1970s caught by D.A. Pennebaker and his wife, Chris Hegedus, but problems prevent them from piecing it together until its release in 1979.

The Comfort of Strangers (1990)

Paul Schrader directed and Harold Pinter adapted Ian McEwan’s novel about an English couple (Rupert Everett and Natasha Richardson) in Venice who finds friends in another couple (Christopher Walken and Helen Mirren) that have a sadist-like relationship. Even though the trip is meant for the English couple to rejuvenate their own relationship and get married, they end up being trapped in the other couple’s own mind games which points their own vile feelings against one another. It was received with lukewarm reviews upon release, but it has gotten a second life of revaluation.

The Complete Films of Agnes Varda

The main attraction is this collection directed by the late Left Bank director from her short films to the last ones made before her death. Her career was an impressive one, strictly art-house who made documentaries, fiction, and visual metaphors. Her breakthrough Cleo From 5 to 7 would not have happened if it weren’t for early films like La Pointe Courte (1955) and Ô saisons, ô châteaux (1958). Exploration of marriage in Le bonheur (1965) and life in California in Lions Love (. . . and Lies) (1969). Independent women and the struggles they face in Réponse de femmes (1975) and Vagabond (1985). Honoring her late husband Jacques Demy with The Young Girls Turn 25 (1993) and The World of Jacques Demy (1995). And visual essays about what she sees Faces Places (2017) and how she feels about herself Varda by Agnès (2019). Her legacy is cemented forever in this set.

Follow me on Twitter: @brian_cine (Cine-A-Man)

Since I’m new here at InSession Film, I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Joey Gentile and I’m OBSESSED with actress’. If you’ve read first piece on The Deer Hunter then you’ll know that I’m gay, and while it’s not my main focus in life (to rely on being gay), I reference it in my writing because it helps articulate many of my views. And in this case, it helps explain why I’m obsessed with actress’ in films, as women and gay men go together like Glenn Close and losing Oscars. They go hand in hand. Gay men are huge in championing women and vice versa, so I will always stick to my guns for my gals.

So, let’s talk about one of my favorites and why she’s so underrated and underused in Hollywood. And why she needs to be cast in everything and anything under the sun that is high profile. I’m talking about Academy Award Nominee Jennifer Tilly (1994, Supporting Actress, Bullets Over Broadway). For the love of Christ, please cast this amazing woman in every project. Let me start with who she is and where we are in a society that is extremely underappreciated of her talent.

Jennifer Tilly first began acting in the 80’s in smaller supporting roles that over the years became cult classics, such as Moving Violations and No Small Affair. It wasn’t until the late 80’s when Hollywood (kind of?) took notice with roles in The Fabulous Baker Boys and Johnny Be Good. It wouldn’t be until 1994 when a film by the title of Bullets Over Broadway came to be when Hollywood would really notice her. At this point, Jennifer was known but wasn’t considered “A-list.” That year she took a page from the likes of Sally Kirkland, Penelope Milford, Candy Clark, and Margaret Avery and started her own Oscar campaign for Bullets (for those of you who don’t know the ins and outs of Oscar campaigning, it’s usually the studio that sends out “FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION” ads for categories to all the major voting bodies. Jennifer wasn’t even considered by the Weinsteins as a possibility). She took ads out in Variety on her own dime and really put forth the effort to be noticed, hitting all the talk shows to promote the film and being introduced on said shows with the term “Oscar Buzz”. If you’ve ever seen the film, Jennifer plays a woman named Olive, who is the prime example of “nepotism at its finest,” as she is the girlfriend of a mobster who wants to desperately become an actress (despite the fact that she can’t act her way out of a paper bag). In the film, Olive is eventually made the lead of a play when a deal was struck. What ensues is hilarity at its finest with a loud and obnoxious character that only Jennifer could have played. Do you know how hard it is to play a bad actor? Extremely hard. As a competent actress, you have to literally throw everything you know out the window, and that’s exactly what Jennifer did.

When it came to be nominated that year she didn’t receive any precursor awards. So, no Golden Globe, SAG, or BAFTA nominations (which is irksome). Her category included Helen Mirren (The Madness of King George), Uma Thurman (Pulp Fiction), Rosemary Harris (Tom & Viv), and her Bullets Over Broadway co-star Dianne Wiest, who eventually won the award. It’s not uncommon for two actors in the same film to be in the same category at the Oscars. Nor is it uncommon for one to win over the other. We’ve seen it happen many times in the past, but this is one of those wins that despite my love for Dianne Wiest, the Academy really screwed up here. Yes, both ladies are in supporting roles here (Dianne has a screentime of 27:01 to Jennifer’s screen time of 26:38), but Dianne is essentially playing Norma Desmond in Sunset Blvd, a role that we’ve seen before. And while she is very good (she’s my runner up that year), Jennifer’s portrayal of Olive is the prime definition of “if you do comedy right, you deserve it”.

Post Oscar nomination, Jennifer followed up with films like Embrace of the Vampire, House Arrest, and Liar, Liar, but she got her first real taste of being the leading lady in 1996’s Bound (take note that by 1996 Jennifer had already been in the business for 13 years…13 years and an Oscar nomination to finally get what she deserved). Following that she took on Bride of Chucky, a film that combined her leading star power and her signature voice acting. She would go back to leading star roles in the criminally underseen Goosed and the ensemble driven Dancing at the Blue Iguana. In the mid 00’s, we saw Jennifer in films ranging from The Haunted Mansion to The Cat’s Meow, all while maintaining voice over work in Monsters, Inc and the TV show Family Guy. She was great in all of those roles, but let’s focus on 2004 for a moment. In Seed of Chucky, Jennifer played a dramatized version of herself (to this day I roll with laughter when she spouts the line “I’m watching Bound on TV, that’s just Gina Gershon fingering me”), and it’s noteworthy because it’s the last big studio release that she was in…in 2004…it’s 2020 – what is wrong with this picture?

There is something to be said about the state of Hollywood and the lack of roles for anyone who isn’t Meryl Streep. Jennifer, despite being born in the US, is Chinese-Canadian by heritage, and she is only the fourth actress of Asian descent to be an Oscar nominee (Merle Oberon, Miyoshi Umeki, and her sister Meg Tilly came before her). But Jennifer wasn’t a fan of being boxed in as “the Asian best friend” role in Hollywoo. She truly fought for her path. The biggest thing working against her is Hollywood itself because there aren’t roles being written for women over a certain, age and who are anything but white. Most of them are working in TV as film roles simply aren’t available. The only time a woman of color seems to be able to get leading roles in film work is when it comes to the old fashioned biopic. This is why many are calling out Hollywood when it comes to stories and representation. Jennifer never really focused on playing the Asian roles either, other than in Empire of Silver. So, in between roles, she was making a name for herself in professional poker and voice over work. While she has returned to the Chucky franchise, the last two installments went straight to video, therefore she still isn’t being seen on a movie screen.

Jennifer has proven time and time again that she can play comedy, drama, horror and the period piece. Why is she not being offered scripts that are worthy of her talents? I’m not even her and I’m frustrated with this, so I can only imagine what it is like for her and it probably doesn’t feel too good. Just off hand, in the last few years alone, I could have seen her in films like The Hateful Eight, Gravity, Oceans 8, Chef, and so many more. And don’t get started on where she could be when it comes to TV in shows like American Horror Story, Pose, Dead to Me and countless others.

So where do we go from here? Well, it all comes down to the writing and what jobs are going to be available. You may be reading this and thinking that there’s nothing you can do, but there is something you can do, actually. When Jennifer comes out with a new film, go see it. Rent it. Buy it. Every time you hit play on your TV, or swipe your credit cart at RedBox, you’re voting with your dollars, which studios take notice of when it comes to making decisions. If Jennifer’s films are being watched, it’s going to be noticed by the powers to be and she will no doubt get more offers.

I was very lucky to have the opportunity to sit down with her sister Meg on my podcast, The Academy Queens, with my amazing partner (and fellow InSession Film writer) Brandon Stanwyck. We really got to know Meg in a whole new light, as herself and not just the actress Meg Tilly, and we would love to have Jennifer on one day as well. When I moved to LA, I promised myself I would one day have a drink with three people – Jane Fonda, Jacki Weaver, and Jennifer Tilly. I may never have that opportunity, but that’s okay, because I’ll always have the ability to write about her brilliance and champion her for the rest of my life. I urge all of you to see Bullets Over Broadway if you haven’t already, as well as the rest of her filmography. Let’s rally around her, see her films, follow her on social media, make ourselves loud, and be proud to stan such a wonderful actress.

This is the first of what I hope is many stories written on the women I adore in this business. I hope you enjoyed it and I’ll see you at the movies!

When he was born in 1908, Portugal was still ruled by a monarchy, only to be overthrown two years later. When he died in 2015, aged 106, Manoel de Oliveira had a career that touched everything in the history of cinema. His first half was under a dictatorship that kept him from going abroad and making anything he wanted and it was only after that government became a democracy did Oliveira come out of the shadows and into international consciousness. He lived through every change Portugal had during his lifespan and was still working when he died.

There was an industry of Portuguese movies, but none that had established lengthy credibility that Oliveira or others could follow, especially when the “New State” dictatorship took over in the late 20s and enforced strict censorship. He first studied as an actor, starring in one of Portugal’s first sound films, The Song of Lisbon, a film still considered among the best produced by Portugal. But after watching Berlin: Symphony Of A City, Oliveira turned to be a director, starting with his silent short documentary, Labor on the Douro River. While local critics hated it, international critics liked it. To make money, Oliveria did straight forward short documentaries while planning on his first full feature in 1942. That film was Aniki-Bóbó, a pre-neorealist film of two young boys who seek the heart of a girl they like. It was also hated, but it would age well in future decades where the film was also considered a classic in Portuguese cinema. (Below, the subtitles are in Spanish. Nothing in English.)

Again, because of the dictatorship, his next work would be another 12 years later with the color documentary short, The Artist And The City, focusing on a Portuguese artist and he prepares each idea by walking the streets. This time, it was well-liked and now work was coming to him. But those future works, Rite of Spring and The Hunt, got him in trouble with the censors and the government, and Oliveira was arrested by the secret police and jailed for 10 days. He remained constrained and under the strict eye of the “New State” regime until it was overthrown in a bloodless coup in 1974, transitioning to a liberal democracy today.

From then on, Oliveira would constantly produce work and become the symbol of Portuguese cinema, even in his 70s. Before the regime change in 1974, he would make the satirical Past And Present that assailed the bourgeoise as much as Luis Bunuel did minus the surrealism. Oliveira would go on to make a string of movies surround the theme of love astray within a sexually repressive backdrop, flaunting the content prohibited before now legalized with the times. He hit a high with 1981’s Francisca, which received global acclaim and was submitted as the country’s International Film nominee but failed to make the final five. His next movie was twice as long as The Irishman, a shocking seven-hour feature that took two years to make titled The Satin Slipper. It deals with similar themes as his other works set in the Renaissance and was Oliveira’s first production outside of Portugal. (If you have seven hours of free time and speak French, guess what?)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vRODl8ebIp4

As he worked on throughout the 1990s, Manoel de Oliveira was getting complete international recognition for a lifetime of struggles and hidden masterpieces. His work was coming out in both Cannes and Venice Film Festivals, producing a stunning 10 feature films in the decade. Day of Despair, Abraham’s Valley, and Anxiety were the next films of his submitted as Portugal’s nominee at the Oscars but neither of those films broke through. His 1995 feature The Convent featured John Malkovich and Catherine Deneuve; 1997’s Voyage To The Beginning Of The World was the final movie of Italian acting legend Marcello Mastroianni and was released posthumously. 1999’s The Letter, made at age 91, won Oliveira the Grand Jury Prize at Cannes, while he would reunite with Malkovitch and Deneuve, along with Michel Piccoli who starred in his work from the 80s in 2001’s I’m Going Home. Oliveira would still not slow down as he approached age 100, making 9 feature films in the decade, including 2006’s Belle Toujours, a sequel to Luis Bunuel’s Belle de Jour, which again was submitted to the Oscars for the final time, but was not accepted.

Passing his centennial year, Oliveira, who started out with black & white with no sound, now moved over to digital color film for his last works. Gebo And The Shadow from 2012 was Oliveira’s final feature, as well as for noted French actress Jeanne Moreau. Upon his passing, Oliveira was in pre-production of a feature titled, The Church of the Devil. Married to his wife for 75 years (who also lived to be 100 before passing in 2019) with kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids around, the life and career of Manoel de Oliveira seem stunning, something that could only be written as fiction, yet here was a person that had memories of a world that changed generation to generation to generation. It’s a life of five acts, unknown and underrated to a chunk of general cinema viewers.

Follow me on Twitter: @brian_cine (Cine-A-Man)

Slight spoilers for Arrival below.

Arrival arrived in a big way for me in 2016. At the time, I was a new father (my son wasn’t even a year-old yet) and I wasn’t prepared for the emotional heft that Denis Villeneuve skillfully weaved into the core fabric of the film. I walked out of that experience stunned. It ended up being my #4 film of that year, with Amy Adams taking home my Best Actress Award for Best Actress at our 2016 InSession Film Awards. It was also nominated for Best Director, Best Screenplay and Best Score. To say that I loved it was putting it mildly.

At the beginning of this year we did our Best of the Decade and I found myself thinking about Arrival more and more. It’s been four years, but it’s still vividly on my mind. Part of it could be the discourse on social media, which still includes Arrival in some ways (depending on the topic), especially when it comes to Adams being snubbed by The Academy in 2017. People haven’t forgotten that egregious error. And it feels good to not be alone in that sentiment, I’m can’t lie. It’s a performance that still lingers with me heavily. For those who listened to our Best of the Decade show, you’ll know that Adams won my award for Best Actress for the 2010s. Not only that, I even went as far to say that it was *the* performance of the decade.

But it’s not just Adams that I think about when it comes to Arrival, Johann Johannsson’s impeccable score (with a little help from Max Richter) often rotates in on my film score playlist on Spotify. Every time I listen to it, the music immediately brings me back to the world Villeneuve created, reminding me of the film’s poignancy. Again, damn The Academy’s rules, it should have been nominated.

That emotion not only resonates because of Villeneuve’s thoughtful direction (and how he utilizes the music), but also thanks to Eric Heisserer’s sharp and compelling screenplay. A script that cleverly built mystery and alluring tension, while simultaneously navigating through all of the film’s intricacies with sublime precision. When you watch it on its face, it’s a welcomed departure from traditional alien invasion movies that pit human protagonists against alien antagonists. Heisserer’s screenplay aimed to be more noble as it depicted aliens nurturing relationships through genuine communication, rather than sparking a galactic war. The aliens in Arrival didn’t want anything from humans, they wanted to gift something to them instead. In that sense the film got to have its cake and eat it too. The constant threat of mis-communication and the uncertainty of what the ramifications could be should that come to fruition made the experience dramatically gripping. Throughout the film we’re never really show how they’ll react or what they’re capable of if they decide to attack. Villeneuve takes full advantage of that in his direction to add great suspense, but Heisserer smartly taps into stereotypes that often come with alien ambiguity to deconstruct motives and communication.

It’s in that where Arrival is deeply embedded into my soul as it relates to Louise’s personal trauma and her job as an interpreter/communicator. The film, whether through narration or natural dialogue, constantly talks about the science of language and creating real communication with those who don’t speak the same dialogue as you. In the case of Arrival, it’s the human species who project vocally, and these ingeniously designed aliens who communicate through visual imagery. That, in and of itself, is captivating given the dynamics we see between Louise and the aliens throughout the film. But the real genius of it comes in how it tethers to Louise’s personal life. In the opening sequence, we get a montage of Louise and her family that articulates the devastation they’ve experienced. It, of course, obliterated me emotionally. Goddamn that Max Richter music. “On the Nature of Daylight” has been used in many films, but it will forever be equated to Arrival for me. It’s perfect here. It fits immaculately and without contrivance. The sequence also slays because of Amy Adams and her dialogue. It’s music, performance, screenplay and direction all coming together in a blistering way that sets the emotional foundation for the film. As it unfolds, there’s a clear connection between language, time and tragedy – all things that have come to define Louise.

This is why I haven’t stopped thinking about Arrival over the last 4 years. It’s a powerful allegory for how we try to decode and interpret the tragedies in our lives. Louise attempting to find out the language of these aliens, and trying to interpret what all of that means, is a perfect metaphor for how we try to interpret / cope with tragedy. As she navigates through all the intricacies of the alien language, it echos our inherent response to decipher emotions we don’t always understand. Especially because most of the time, if not every time, tragedy arrives unexpectedly. Just as the aliens did. And it leaves us in this space of uncertainty and questioning. The biggest question being “why do these things happen to us?” – which is reminiscent of Louise trying to answer “why are these aliens on earth?” As we see in the film, it’s not always clear. The truth is sometimes mysterious and it requires much deciphering. But there’s hope. Louise was able to decode a lot of the alien language as we sometimes find answers in the middle of our grief and pain. For Louise, it came in the form of choice. Her circumstances could not have been more arduous, but the aliens gifted her perspective. It’s one of my favorite film twists of all time because of the polarity it presents to Louise. She could either run from conflict and her grief, as represented by the government or even her husband, or she could embrace the inevitability of tragedy and cherish each moment with love and hope.

Louise, full on knowing what her future was going to be, chose companionship. She chose to be in each moment with the one she loves. Decoding tragedy is never easy and it always leaves us at a crossroad. But there is an unexpected gift that can come as a result of fully diving into the process. Louise doesn’t get her “gift” at the end without doing a bunch of work and really digging into the nuances of her job. In the end, though, after thoroughly examining every little detail that came with the alien language, she learned of something profound. However, it wasn’t just Louise breaking through in terms of world conflict, it was her finding peace in her pain.

And when you intertwine that with the sci-fi nature of the film and its ideas on communication and loneliness, it makes for a stirring experience that I haven’t forgotten. Especially with how it all crystallizes in those final five minutes or so. The montage of Louise talking about her choice and how she would choose it over and over again, knowing the outcome, destroyed me even more than what the opening montage did. It was art transcending beyond the screen and injecting itself into my real life and how I view my relationship with my son. Or with how I’ll grapple with grief when it comes.

Louise is no doubt one of my favorite sci-fi characters of all-time and Arrival will continue to sit with me in the years to come.

Today is July 14, 2020 – it’s been exactly six days since Naya Rivera went missing on Lake Piru in California, a story we all knew deep down was likely going to end in tragedy, yet none of us were willing to accept. The news yesterday seemed inevitable, and yet for me, the tears didn’t start flowing until it became official. Since the news broke, it’s been difficult to hold back the tears, even as I write this, but I cannot find anything else to do as I process what this loss means for someone like myself. And as I wipe tears away from my face yet again, I need to ask the world, why?

Glee premiered in May of 2009, I was 17 and in my junior year of high school, and instantly fell in love with the pilot episode. There was something about a group of outcasts who no one really liked that sparked my interest right away. In high school I never really belonged to a certain group. I played football and ran track, but I wasn’t a jock. I did drama but wasn’t a drama geek. I wasn’t popular but I wasn’t a loner. I literally had no place in high school. I was openly gay, but there was something special about Glee and its cast that spoke to me. I didn’t watch the show right away and didn’t see myself in any of the kids, not even the obviously gay character of Kurt. I just never saw myself in feminine gay characters, not at that time or even now. I wasn’t sure who I “matched” with until the character of Santana was expanded on and I saw the woman who was secretly living inside me. Specifically with in the realm of not giving a single f***, saying the truth, not being afraid to admit fault, and most clearly, not putting up with anyone’s nonesense. Santana, of course, was played by Naya Rivera, a role that is solely responsible for keeping anything on Glee interesting or worth while past the first season.

To give you a little backstory of where I was in my life at 17, I moved out on my own and had a very tumultuous relationship with my parents. I recently found my biological father who lived in Seattle, and I was going out to see him at the end of the school year. I had no worries in life except trying to still figure out who I was on the cusp of legal adulthood. I smoked Camel No. 9 Menthol, that Spring I lost my straight virginity, and snuck into bars to have fun. I was finding solace in strange men, laying my head down wherever I could call a place home for a night, and surviving in any way possible. I was finding my voice, and as a Pisces I would often daydream in where I wanted my life to be. After Glee had premiered, I found where I wanted to be, and that was as a fictional character named Santana ( Naya). Santana took absolutely no shit. She was a strong woman who wasn’t afraid to get messy, to make mistakes, and I wanted to be her so bad. I wanted to be strong like her. I wanted to know what life was like as a person who wasn’t afraid to speak their mind and do the right thing. After finding Santana, I had the strength to come clean to people about being raped, about the abuse I suffered from my parents, and I found the strength to pull myself up from the darkness that a 17 year old should never be in. She was my saving grace.

As the show progressed, the character came out as a lesbian, and became one of the first, if not the first, recurring openly gay latina characters on television. She represented us all in the most “everything but the kitchen sink” fashion. She was a woman, a woman of color, a woman of color who was homosexual, a woman of color who was homosexual and proud. Santana was all of us looking for our place in this messed up world. Even if you didn’t identify with her on a personal level, she became your favorite and was easily the most exciting thing about the show. If Naya Rivera was never cast in this role, I don’t know if Santana would have been so easily relatable. She was a very complex character who needed the best actress possible to become real, and not just a quixotic stereotypical cut out side role. There was no way Santana would have worked without Naya.

As I continue to write, and listening to Lana Del Ray, the emotions continue to pour out of me because Santana helped shape me into who I am today. I nee to know why. Why in a world, with such awful people, does this happen to the ones who deserve it the least? Despite my time spent living in West Hollywood, working in the industry, I never had the chance to meet Naya and thank her for rescuing me. And despite my many run ins with the cast of Glee, I will forever be sad that she wasn’t one of them. I won’t feel the loss of her like her parents, her son, her cast mates, etc. But as a fan it its hard, and I feel it as a witness to the inspirational work that Naya Rivera gifted to people like me. Without Naya I would have never adopted her “balls to the wall” attitude and outlook on life. I might have ended up in a permanent ditch outside a bar if this show, and that character, didn’t come into my life at the time that it did. I wouldn’t have left the bar every week to go watch the next episode as the show continued each season.

Naya Rivera came into many of our lives through her work for a short time in her short life, and I will forever be grateful for it. For the casting directors to accept her agents’ submission, to Ryan Murphy for saying yes to her, and to her for showing me that I can be strong, yet vulnerable, forgiving yet harsh, and for giving me the strength to say “I can do it”.

Naya spent only 33 trips around the sun and spent every one of them being as true to herself as you can. And in the end, through these tears and through the heartbreak, all I can say is thank you. I will miss you. Thank you for showing me, me.