Appropriately enough, while reviewing the austere minimalist Robert Bresson, who abhorred waste, clutter, and distraction, I am about to e...

The best films of Lars von Trier, a sadistic Danish jester, face up to their flaws and nastiness and hyper-self-consciousness unblinkingly. ...

Like the child in whom we can retroactively see elements of the future adult , I Was Born, But ..., a mostly lighthearted silent comedy by a...

Few things are as intriguing and as vexing as a film at odds with itself. Particularly when that same film shows such stylistic verve and m...

Forward-looking and backward-looking, often at the same time, David Wark Griffith (1875-1948) provides a fascinating and somehow appropriate...

Directors, auteurs, filmmakers -- call them what you will. Certain individuals carry a presence into their work which makes them the undisp...

Movie buffs are always looking for a little guidance in their journey through the thickets of cinema. I've debated the value of canons w...

I have been hoping to write about D.W. Griffith for a few days now; a disc of Biograph shorts is sitting impatiently beside my computer. It...

A little girl lies in the backseat of the family car, fidgety and irritable. It's moving day and she doesn't want a new home, or a ...

I finally got around to seeing The Dark Knight . Normally, on a Monday after a movie is released, this news would not be especially shockin...

The other day I was talking to an animal-lover and preservationist about local wildlife. Apparently, as people and their homes encroach on ...

When I was about seven, around the time I was first getting into movies, I was obsessed with the old horror films. Or more accurately, boo...