Tim Sidell, “Flux Gourmet”
Peter Strickland makes his movies his own way, which is a tongue-in-cheek way of saying that Strickland makes movies unlike any others being made today. A good guess as to why: He works with the same cinematographer on each of his movies. But a good guess isn’t a correct guess; apart from Nic Knowland, Strickland hasn’t hired the same per,son twice to shoot for him, which means he simply has a vision and he knows who to call, from one film to the next, to achieve that vision on screen. For “Flux Gourmet,” Strickland gave that task to Tim Sidell. Not that Strickland movies are everyday affairs, but “Flux Gourmet” is a particular oddity in a filmography that contains “The Duke of Burgundy,” “Berberian Sound Studio,” and “In Fabric”; it’s an insider’s account of outsider art, flatulence, diarrhea, weird food, weirder sex, and colossal egotism disrupting group dynamics, but also mostly farts. Strickland says “bite me” to the transgressive art world’s snootiest players. Sidell says, “Okay, but let’s make it look refined.” He couches “Flux Gourmet’s” sneering punk rock outlook in photography that’s one part sophisticated, one part modest, and altogether fabulous. – AC
Andrew Wheeler, “God’s Country”
The American landscape of “God’s Country” is cold. Literally, it’s downright freezing. Figuratively, it’s ominous and forbidding. A narrative about a multi-tiered culture clash, predominantly hinging on racism, would typically take place in a sweltering urban environment or a dusty, sunbaked rural setting. “God’s Country,” from first-timer Julian Higgins, relocates that narrative to the gelid middle of Nowhere, Montana, where college professor Sandra (Thandiwe Newton) runs afoul of hunters Nathan (Joris Jarsky) and Samuel (Jefferson White), who habitually trespass on her land despite her demand they stay off, and who are clearly tracking game but won’t admit it. When there’s a nip in the air, you throw a few logs on the fireplace. When the temperatures of your human interactions run the same, there’s not much you can do but grin and bear it. Using the best use of unsettling composition, framing, and John Ford-like grandeur, Andrew Wheeler floods the movie with that innate inhospitality, the distrust between neighbors, and the rancor expressed across scores of boundaries and categories. It’s a chilling piece of work. – AC
Ksusha Genenfeld, “A Wounded Fawn”
When you’re shooting a horror movie with a script spliced by retro genre vibes, you have a couple of choices: You can either reference a yesteryear aesthetic with apathetic lighting design and fake grain added in post, or you can pull on your bell bottoms and peasants blouse like it’s 1977 and go for the real thing. In “A Wounded Fawn,” Travis Stevens’ peerless third feature, Ksusha Genenfeld goes for it. The film, one of several in 2022’s “charming serial killers get owned” niche, takes place chiefly in a remote cabin, where Bruce (Josh Rueben), a man of taste compelled by a sinister Strigiform entity to murder women, attempts to beguile and slay his date, Meredith (Sarah Lind), only to meet major interference from the Erinyes. Genenfeld captures the madness — both that seeded in Bruce’s addled mind and stalking the surrounding woods — in gorgeous 16mm, opting for vivid color temperatures, contrast, and atmospheric balance that points to the work of Bob Clark, Dario Argento, and Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck. Genenfeld’s intention pays off. “A Wounded Fawn” has a familiar look, but you’ve never seen anything quite like it before. – AC
Larkin Seiple, “Everything Everywhere All at Once”
Reactions to “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” the sophomore feature from rogue cheeky boy filmmaking duo Daniels, aka Daniel Scheinert, and Dan Kwan, commonly boil the movie down to a single word: “Exhausting.” This is a compliment. It’s also unavoidable. A film about, like the title says, everything is liable to wear out even the most seasoned viewers with the sturdiest butts. Now imagine the sweat that goes into shooting that kind of movie, and imagine the marathon training DP Larkin Seiple did to keep up with Daniels’ imagination. They’re mercurial, clever, and not a little bit naughty; “Everything Everywhere All at Once” incorporates a sampler menu of period sensibilities, genres, and movie references into its plot, where Evelyn (Michelle Yeoh), failing laundromat owner, soon-to-be-divorcée, and domineering mother goes from muddling through her boring reality to struggling with the knowledge of other, exciting multiverse realities. Pulling off the fusion Daniels require takes talent. It also takes endurance. Seiple has both. – AC
Barbara Alvarez, “Utama”
Movies are best seen on movie screens. This much we know to be true. But what we often conflate is the idea that big movies work better on movie screens, and that smaller movies work no matter the dimensions they’re projected in. Alejandro Loayza Grisi’s “Utama” begs to differ. The story of an elder couple who sojourn to the city from their Andes dwelling, seeking medical care, belongs to the couple, but the true star is Barbara Alvarez. She makes this tiny portrait of stubborn insistence on personal autonomy and selfhood at the cost of one’s health feel grand; her photography here is a nice companion to the photography of Sebastião Salgado, bringing viewers to what will, for most, feel an awful lot like a cliff where the world cuts off, as if the edge of civilization really is the edge of civilization. The message, though, isn’t that Virginio (José Calcina) and Sisa (Luisa Quispe) are insignificant. It’s that even in landscapes as vast as the Altiplano and as constricted as urbanity, they have value, and their wants and wishes are as profound as the plateaus they call home. – AC
