Twenty years have passed since The Lives of Others was made. Twenty years since that gray winter—a cold season in which voices were not merely voices, but evidence of guilt,
When approaching It Was Just an Accident, directed by Jafar Panahi, if we consciously shift the analysis away from the level of political subject matter and toward the film’s formal
Spring in Finland is not merely a simple change of season; it is a sensory and psychological resurrection. After months of absolute darkness and bone-chilling winter cold, the emergence of
The Yellow of Love and Failure
I first saw Hana Kamkar on a theater stage in the 2000s, in a production where she played Anahita, the goddess of water
Documentary cinema can be regarded as the birth of social critique within a visual structure a cinema that derives its identity
It Was Just an Accident opens with a scene inside a car. A man whose face is familiar to supporters of the Islamic government
An Elegy for a Butterfly Crucified by a Pin*
Sandra Jones Cropsey’s Private Dancer, recipient of Best Script at the Nashville Independent Filmmakers Festival, is a work that situates itself within a modest dramatic frame—a single bar, a handful of
