Sentences with phrase «n't auteurist»

Logan isn't auteurist screenwriting; it's just good screenwriting, strengthened with good ideas.

Not exact matches

Your defense of Bay's «auteurist» aesthetic sense - «a man who never outgrew directing Super Bowl commercials»; «Bay has a style - a weird one, certainly, a hybrid of a nose - picking jock and a slick ad man who shoots a can of Pepsi, a Chevy Camaro, and a leggy blonde with the same voyeur's eye, and his bizarre gallery of ethnic sounds, voices, and faces is not without precedent» - makes this movie sound about as appealing as... well, exactly the things you described.

At the risk of further estranging myself from De Palma geeks, I must admit I rather enjoyed watching a Body Double without Armond White guilt - tripping my subconscious — which is not to say that Looker circumvents an auteurist reading altogether, but the idiosyncrasies that betray it as «Crichtonian» (like a novelistic conceit that starts off each new act with a placard indicating the day of the week *) are less than venerable and thus hardly lend themselves to an apologia.

Next year is not looking so promising in New York, where exactly two institutions (Anthology & BAM) remain devoted to film on film and simply showing non-canonical auteurist series.

For all of its superb, shock - and - awe - generating visuals — aided by oft - nominated master cinematographer Roger Deakin's (Sicario, Prisoners, Skyfall, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford) singular eye for composition — Blade Runner 2049 often feels like Villeneuve, lured by the promise of revisiting a world created by a visionary filmmaker, not only wanted to put his own, auteurist stamp on said world, creating a continuation of a standalone, sequel - adverse film that «fits» on a narrative, thematic, and visual level, but found himself seduced like so many fans over the decades by the pure power of Scott's world - building and simply couldn't leave.

I'm not the only one who regards it as Lewton's greatest film, and I assume the main reason for its neglect is auteurist thinking — only directors are seen as auteurs — and the absence of stars.

Film critic A.O. Scott, in his New York Times review, somewhat (but not entirely) jokingly referred to this new film as an example of a kind of auteurist cinema, in that the aesthetic clearly reflects the vision of one man, director Michael Bay (who also directed the previous three films).

So, the European Film Awards isn't a celebration of the industry (unlike the Oscars), but an affirmation of auteurist cinema.

Auteurist critics who mined these strata have rejected Zinnemann because his is a literal - minded cinema of the spectator, where the images and narrative are displayed with craft and artistry, but which do not ask the viewer to participate in completing the equation of form and content.

I totally understand the logic of not splitting the winners or nominees of the Directing and Picture categories, especially for a practicing auteurist like me.

Great Directors on TCM: Fred Zinnemann I don't tend to think of Fred Zinnemann when I think of great directors, and I'm sure that's influenced by my auteurist outlook.

The performances a big and broad, maybe even clunky to the eye not covered with auteurist spectacles.

I was not a fan of his recent efforts Tree of Life or Knight of Cups, but his auteurist style - the camera roving where it pleases like a documentary - maker after dropping a couple of tabs of acid - finally clicked here, perfectly encapsulating desire and alienation against the backdrop of the Austin music scene.

Perhaps all would be forgiven if M: i: III were competently - directed (while M: I - 2 is one of the stupidest films ever made, as John Woo is one of the best action directors of the past twenty - five years, damn if it's not beautiful, coherent, auteurist stupidity), but it's a glassy - eyed, dead thing complete with superfluous flashbacks to events we don't care about involving characters we don't recognize, an interminable party sequence in which Cruise trots out his smile like it was a weathered, beaten - down trophy wife, and a smug, self - congratulatory conclusion full of high - fives, victory arms, and shit - eating grins.

Not least Paul Schrader, whose particular brand of nihilism deserves equal credit to his director — whether you read John Ford's The Searchers or Robert Bresson's Pickpocket as the film's foremost influence depends on which auteurist lens you favour.