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2018-01-18T17:43:38.790Z
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The main selling point of The Post, Steven Spielberg’s new film about The Washington Post’s involvement in publishing the Pentagon Papers, in 1971, is its topicality: the film was green lit, produced, and released all in 2017, beginning shortly after the Trump presidency. For such a film, it holds up surprisingly well, though contrary to what you might expect, it succeeds least of all as a movie about journalism. Christian Lorentzen elaborates at The New Republic:
If the story of a bullying president and an embattled press corps sounds familiar, that’s because Spielberg fast-tracked the script’s production last spring. Casting Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks, who have both been vocal critics of the Trump administration, in the lead roles is more than a little on the nose. The historical allegory is neat, and obviousness isn’t a flaw in a protest movie. But as a movie about journalism, The Post substitutes righteousness for suspense, and legal and financial distresses for the paranoid dread that marks the classics of the genre, which happen to have been made during and just after the Nixon administration.
The counterargument is that The Post is not, or at least not most importantly, about journalism in the sense either of chasing the story or of the fourth estate’s role in checking the power of the government. Per Jeff Reichert at Reverse Shot, the film belongs less to the reporters or executive editor Ben Bradlee (played by Tom Hanks) than to the Post’s...
Star Wars Dialogue is a 5-part dialog between Mike Thorn, Isiah Medina, Chelsea Phillips-Carr, Isaac Goes, and Neil Bahadur about George Lucas's first six films in the Star Wars franchise.MIKE THORN: Considering the influence of silent cinema on the Star Wars films, how might we read Lucas’s series as it relates to D.W. Griffith’s work? I’m thinking very broadly here about some of the formal echoes between the climatic finale of The Birth of a Nation (1915) and that of A New Hope. ISIAH MEDINA: In principle, there is nothing that cannot be reversed, there is no cinematic tactic or strategy that cannot be re-appropriated. Or, as Lucas would have it, there’s nothing that cannot be revised for and with future technological breaks. Okay, let’s say we have a Birth of a Nation ending mixed in with a Triumph of the Will (1935) award ceremony in A New Hope. You can imagine a scene of a student handing in a school project late and cross-cutting the teacher about to leave the class and then the student misses the teacher but finally stops the teacher as they leave the parking lot. Next scene there’s an award ceremony and the student wins a math award. I would not say this is now a racist, fascist scene “at the level of form,” nor would I say there is a subversion of Griffith and Riefenstahl. To inflate cross-cutting or high angle shots of organized crowds...
Shirô Toyoda's Jigohuken or Portrait of Hell (1969) builds steadily to a shattering penultimate sequence, then peters out in a disappointing denouement. If you cut the climax off, I bet it would haunt people forever, and such is the power of its individual high points that it still commands attention.The great Tatsuya Nakadai (Harakiri, Ran) plays a Korean painter at the court of a nasty lord who fancies his daughter. Both men are tyrants: Nakadai forbids his daughter to marry her lover because he's not Korean, but then has her taken away from him by the corrupt and lascivious ruler. He then conceives the idea of a painting of the inferno: his patron/tormentor, the lord, doubts his ability to render so abstract a concept, but Nakadai says he sees Hell all around him, so it will be no particular challenge.This is all good stuff. Nakadai is superhumanly intense, melting holes in the screen with his intense glower. Kinnosuke Nakamura as the lustful lord is a bit too fleshily on-the-nose, sneering and twitching the painted eyebrows in a way that feels a little too theatrical. But as the film proceeds and his character becomes ever more hateful, and yet doomed and neurotic also, the performance comes to seem exactly right.The lord suspects that his court painter is setting some kind of trap in revenge for the deflowering of his daughter, and when Nakadai requests the opportunity to paint a burning royal carriage with a figure inside, his suspicions...
Get in touch to send in cinephile news and discoveries. For daily updates follow us @NotebookMUBI.RECOMMENDED VIEWING
  • We found Kiyoshi Kurosawa's semi-serious, semi-tongue-in-cheek sci-fi film Before We Vanish one of the best premieres of last year. The trailer for the American release plays it straight, but captures the wry verve of the film. Highly recommended.
  • We adore the output of Poverty Row studio Republic (Driftwood, The Inside Story, I've Always Loved You), but rarely have had the chance to see the movies on celluloid and looking good. So we'll be front row, center for the Museum of Modern Art's "Republic Rediscovered" series, curated by Martin Scorsese. But just as good as any of those 1940s classics is the trailer for the retrospective, cut by filmmaker Gina Telaroli.
  • For the 40th anniversary of the blood red giallo classic Suspiria, the maestro Dario Argento offers commentary in a new video by Sight & Sound.
 
  • With the release in cinemas...
A few years ago, I was on the periphery of a group of critics who made much of its love for the work of Tony Scott. After he died, the revaluation of his films became a noble pursuit, a form of tribute to a man we thought would be working for at least another decade but who had vanished one day without warning. An extensive series of articles, each of which exuded a sincere love of Tony’s wild, plastic cinema, were published here on the Notebook. I haven’t revisited many of Scott’s films since then; my priorities have shifted, and I look elsewhere for inspiration. Still, part of the appeal of somebody like Tony Scott—who, we maintained, was a bad-taste artist hiding in plain sight—was that you would, in the course of spending the holidays at your parents’ house, say, catch a glimpse of his movies on television. Or find his towering masterpiece in a DVD bargain bin while paying for gas. And my affection for Tony Scott has endured that way, in fragments, here and there, in less than ideal circumstances. I like it that way.But another form of tribute has always been in dutifully trudging to see his brother Ridley’s latest films in the multiplexes. I don’t mean that I’m maintaining an auteurist blood-bond in seeing these films, a pilgrimage to anything adorned with the Scott name. Simply that I always liked the gorgeous animated logo that prefaced the films produced by their joint enterprise,...
Star Wars Dialogue is a 5-part dialog between Mike Thorn, Isiah Medina, Chelsea Phillips-Carr, Isaac Goes, and Neil Bahadur about George Lucas's first six films in the Star Wars franchise.MIKE THORN: In her chapter of  Glittering Images (2012) on Revenge of the Sith, Camille Paglia argues that, more than any other artist, George Lucas closes the gap between art and technology. How do you feel about this idea? In what ways are art and technology interacting with each other in these films, and how is Lucas cultivating that interaction? How has his innovation in this regard affected cinema since?ISIAH MEDINA: Lucas claims that all art is, is technology. So the claim only works if we assume a gap to begin with. But more precisely, he says that one has an artistic problem, and then one invents a technology to solve it. In Heidegger’s Ponderings X he claims that technology is the history of nature. It makes sense to say that the history of nature culminates into an idea of beauty in art, freely determining itself. In the same way that for Hegel the painting of a tree will always be higher than the tree, the digital medium must be higher than the chemical medium, and I prefer the CGI in the prequels to any feeling of the apparently natural in the originals. That’s what excited me about Rogue One (2016) over The Force Awakens (2015): with the CGI resurrections I saw...
Star Wars Dialogue is a 5-part dialog between Mike Thorn, Isiah Medina, Chelsea Phillips-Carr, Isaac Goes, and Neil Bahadur about George Lucas's first six films in the Star Wars franchise.MIKE THORN: Of particular interest in the Star Wars franchise is the relationship between Lucas’s avant-garde roots, and the way his experimental tendencies work with (and/or against) classicism. Do any of you think these films should be read more intently in terms of either one formal category or another (classical or avant-garde)? That is, do you think they’re “more” avant-garde than classical, or vice versa? Would your answer differ from film to film?ISIAH MEDINA: Continuing the theme of revision, what is avant-garde can be revised as well, but I don’t think there is value in calling Star Wars avant-garde other than a provocation. It’s classical through and through.  In terms of artistic movements within moviemaking, I do think there needs to be other forms of relating what is avant-garde outside of decisions of film programming, as the same films included in one program can often been seen as classical in another context. A self-determination in regards to what is avant-garde within artistic creation also entails the ability for filmmakers to be critical and not rely on those outside to do that labour. Jean-Marie Straub may say that Stagecoach (1939) is the most experimental film of all time, but what is crucial is that the very division between classical and avant-garde is...
There's a new genre in town. The first example of it I can name is Bill Morrison's Spark of Being (2010), which retells the story of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein using aged found footage. In this version, as Morrison puts it, the movie itself is the monster, assembled from pieces of the dead.I may be missing earlier and later examples of this form, but so far as I know Guy Maddin and colleagues Evan and Galen Johnson are the first to respond to that celluloid gauntlet, with The Green Fog, a remake of Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958) using footage culled from ninety-eight feature films and three TV series shot or set in the San Francisco area. I guess the movie is also in the genre of city symphonies, and has a nodding acquaintance with Thom Andersen's pirate-video documentary Los Angeles Plays Itself (2003).The Madden/Johnsons have several advantages over Hitchcock: their film is only around half as long, has almost no dialogue, and doesn't have to tell a coherent story: they simply assemble material which, sequence by sequence, reminds the viewer of equivalent scenes in the original. A rooftop chase is cobbled together from a half dozen of the endless elevated pursuits that climax noirs, TV movies and cheap thrillers of every stripe. Only one shot from Vertigo itself is used anywhere in the movie: the opening image (post-credits) of Jimmy Stewart's hands grasping the top rung of a fire escape.A score by Jacob Garchik and the Kronos Quartet recalls Bernard...
Star Wars Dialogue is a 5-part dialog between Mike Thorn, Isiah Medina, Chelsea Phillips-Carr, Isaac Goes, and Neil Bahadur about George Lucas's first six films in the Star Wars franchise.MIKE THORN: I’ve spent a lot of time thinking and writing about George Lucas’s work, especially his Star Wars films; I hold this six-part series in extremely high regard, especially the prequel trilogy. In my Bright Lights Film Journal article “Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith: George Lucas’s Greatest Artistic Statement?”, I discuss the breadth of Lucas’s extratextual reference and his brazenly unique sensibility. In “George Lucas’s Wildest Vision: Retrofuturist Auteurism in Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones (2002),” I pay serious mind to Lucas’s interest in cinematic form and his avant-garde background, unpacking the ways in which his early experimental projects inform his later work. For the purpose of this dialogue I wanted to hear input from several of my favorite film critics. I categorize Disney’s spin-off entries separately from Lucas’s work, given the corporation’s decision to disregard his existing outlines, but some of the contributors acknowledged the new films’ relation to (or distance from) the existing saga. I decided to pose broad, open-ended questions about these films, hoping to open up the possibilities for conversation as much as possible. ***I’ll start with an obvious entry point into discussion—the anachronism of George Lucas’s Star Wars. This is a concept that...
Part of the Jerry Lewis tribute A MUBI Jerrython. Writer, director, star of stage, screen and television, humanitarian, producer, and total filmmaker—Jerry Lewis was all of the above. For the first six years of his career he was also a professional lip syncher. At age twelve, desperate to follow his parents on stage, Jerry began developing a “record act.” A staple on the lower rungs of the Borscht Belt, burlesque, vaudeville, and nightclubs, record acts (a.k.a. dummy acts) were cheap and easy: they consisted of a performer or performers miming away to recordings. Always considered pretty corny, they were the poor stepchildren on the theatrical bills, but there were plenty of budding comics who broke into show business that way. Jerry Van Dyke was another newbie who started his career doing record acts, and much later Andy Kaufman would put his own spin on it mouthing part of the theme song to Mighty Mouse.For the young Joey Levitch it was ideal. All he needed were the records and the player—he already had the overabundance of funny faces to go with them. At first he did the act whenever he could get a chance, mostly at the Catskill hotels. When he was sixteen he dropped out of high school and took it on the road. Appearing between features at movie theatres in Northern New Jersey, he soon moved into burlesque, vaudeville, and nightclubs. Jerry did take-offs of popular singers like Frank Sinatra, Betty Hutton, Danny Kaye, Carmen...
Jaume Collett-Serra, the mathematician, the physicist, the secret philosopher, works better with infinite space in which to perform equations. His ‘bottle’ movies, where Liam Neeson is trapped in a small location with an Agatha Christie conspiracy to ferret out, show off his formal capabilities and fixations, but not his strengths. A fight scene and a train crash can no longer use Liam Neeson as anything other than a kind of stop-motion blur. It’s probably a head-banging conundrum for Collet-Serra agnostics why a handful of critics consider his work so irresistible and satisfying. They see the movies he appears to be making, instead of the bone dry parody set in a blue screen netherworld that he’s placed just below the surface of our immediate perception. You need only watch the ending to The Commuter to understand precisely what he thinks of the subject matter he works with. At least as anything other than a stage door to the world he knows. A comically large exhale, the conclusion of his new movie finds every survivor of a nightmarish ordeal hugging their families, asking each other on dates, insisting the word “hero” go into a police report, making jokes and graciously shaking hands and smiling. It’s entirely too huge to be serious. You can practically see the Catalan whiz standing behind the monitor trying not to laugh. And that isn’t even the whole ending, it gets even hammier and smirks even more broadly for a final reveal. They look like regular...
X-Files Recap is a weekly column by Keith Uhlich covering Chris Carter's 10-episode continuation of the X-Files television series.Life is a series of moments, strung together, rarely with much sensitivity or sense. Let’s look at two such moments, each from the teaser sequence of The X-Files’ second episode of its eleventh season (an installment titled “This,” written and directed by series executive producer Glen Morgan). The first: A car—its radio blasting the Ramones’ cover of “California Sun”—races toward a destination. The second: A pair of people—colleagues at first, then friends, then lovers, now middle-aged familiars—rests on a couch. One moment active, one moment passive, both on a collision course. But at this juncture, each instant exists unto itself. “There is only this—all else is unreal,” mused a character in Terrence Malick’s great romantic historical The New World (2005). (A prescient rhyme, perhaps, with the final spoken line from his recent Joycean saga of love, damnation and redemption, Song to Song [2017]: “This…only this.”) And yet to exist in “this” is to be forced to acknowledge “that”: That which has happened and that which will.That car, for example, will deposit a trio of gun-toting assassins on the doorstep of that sleeping duo, FBI Special Agents Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) and Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson). Death would be assured was it not for a semi-garbled, existentially-tinged video warning on Mulder’s phone from old friend Richard “Ringo” Langly (Dean Haglund)—the now-deceased former member of a much more friendly threesome, the conspiracy-theorizing hackers known...
Close-Up is a feature that spotlights films now playing on MUBI. Julian Radlmaier's Self-Criticism of a Bourgeois Dog (2017), which is receiving an exclusive global online premiere on MUBI, is showing from January 12 - February 11, 2018 as a Special Discovery.
Personnel is being hired for the Theater in Oklahoma! The great Theater of Oklahoma is calling you!
—Amerika, Franz Kafka
 “But how can we know we’re in communism?”
—Camille, Self-Criticism of a Bourgeois DogSpecters haunt: class society, the ghost of Mayakovsky, the Soviet avant-garde. Julian Radlmaier’s filmography has thus far demonstrated a fixation with the terminology, the iconography—and the names, and the reference points—of a Marxist culture at once sacred, dogmatic, malleable, popular, misquoted, bastardized, mocked. The German filmmaker foregrounds his referential framework (two medium-length efforts preceded this one: 2012’s A Specter Is Haunting Europe and 2014’s A Proletarian Winter’s Tale) as if to simultaneously goad and warn his audience. But these are less lectures than Brechtian grapples­. In them, characters discover the praxis of getting by: togetherness, fairness, the realities of a living wage.In Self-Criticism of a Bourgeois Dog, Radlmaier’s feature-length debut, the first gag is a foul-mouthed dismissal of Fra Angelo’s 1420s painting, Apparition of St. Francis at Arles, hanging inside the visually pristine, preciously quiet space of Berlin’s Gemäldegalerie, on the grounds that its subject—St. Francis of Assisi—was a “fucking communist”. During a lunchbreak, museum employee Hong (Kyung-Taek Lie) explains to younger colleague Sancho (Beniamin Forthi) that St. Francis lived among the poor, spoke...
The once-intriguing possibilities of 3D films have become a gimcrack commodity, one used by producers to inflate the price of movie tickets and increase revenue. For Hollywood films, it’s usually done as a post-production conversion, nothing more than a brummagem, money-grabbing afterthought devoid of sincere artistic purpose. It is, in a way, a bastard descendant of the crafty stratagems of William Castle (Smell-O-Vision, the flying skeletons, etc.), but without his passion and showmanship, and certainly without his thriftiness. PROTOTYPE, Blake William’s hour-long, innominate new feature, is the rare film to not only take advantage of the unique possibilities of 3D technology, but to become symbiotic with it. In the film one find flickers of hope for the medium. You cannot watch PROTOTYPE in 2D; it simply does not work. The ineluctable ambition of the film—of its formal experimentation, its assured daring—needs, and deserves, to be experienced as intended, with respect for the reverence with which Williams approaches the form. The monochrome starkness pops and pulls you in like no other film in recent—or distant—memory. There are shots that, in their self-aware bravado, made me think tangentially of Irma Vep, specifically its self-effacing ending, which posits that only through deconstruction rather than emulation of the past can cinema move forward.  Williams’s film traipses through a century-plus of cinematic conventions and innovations, amalgamating them into something singular. Though there are hues of Lynch and Snow and various other avant-garde auteurs, its closest ilk is Godard’s Goodbye to Language, one...
As Steven Spielberg's The Post glides effortlessly into Oscar season as a film that's Timely with a capital T, two recent quotes from the director merit consideration. The first comes from an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, where Spielberg said, of the film's urgency, "I thought this was an idea that felt more like 2017 than 1971. I could not believe the similarities between today and what happened with the Nixon administration...I realized this was the only year to make this film." Indeed, 2017 was so much the year for the film—about the leaking of the "Pentagon Papers" on the Vietnam War, the Washington Post's role in publishing them, and the Supreme Court battle that followed—that Spielberg shuffled his schedule to push The Post quickly into production. The second quote comes from the film's premiere, when a reporter approached Spielberg on camera and asked what he thought of Donald Trump as President. Spielberg, visibly sensing that he was being baited for a controversial soundbite, brushed off the comment and said, "I think it’s very, very important that our movie is seen not as a political, partisan play on the part of what they call the ‘liberal media’ or 'liberal Hollywood'...This is truly a story about patriotism...I celebrate everybody who feels that fervor about this country." I can't tell if it says more about Spielberg or about 2017 that those two quotes, which aren't technically contradictions, feel like they generate so much friction between them. Taken together, they lay out a...
Partycrashers is an on-going series of video dispatches from critics Michael Pattison and Neil Young.Partycrashers has never exactly been metronomic in its regularity, but even by our eccentric standards the timings of the last few editions has been... erratic: five months between our report from the Curtas festival of Vila do Conde, northern Portugal, in July 2016 and the year-end pre-Christmas round-up recorded in Newcastle, then an 11-month "hiatus" until our report from the Post/Doc festival of Porto, northern Portugal, then a gap of less than two weeks before this year-end pre-Christmas round-up recorded in Newcastle. We may be unpredictable chronologically; geographically somewhat less so, it seems.And, as has become something of an unwanted Partycrashers tradition, we have—the last twice—been bedeviled by technical mishaps, perhaps an inevitable consequence of our ingrained "one-take" preference (we're more Eastwoodian than Kubrickian in this regard). The camera used for our 2017 survey cut us off somewhere in the vicinity of our full-flow prime, meaning that we didn't get to shine a spotlight on those many worthy films—of various lengths—which didn't obtain UK distribution over the last 12 months. We therefore present our top tens below, in text form, Neil excluding what would have been his #2 pick (Valeska Grisebach's Western) on the basis that it is reportedly set for British arthouse release some time in the first half of 2018. Onward, upward!NEIL
  1. Araby (João Dumans and Affonso Uchoa, Brazil)
  2. On...
Get in touch to send in cinephile news and discoveries. For daily updates follow us @NotebookMUBI.RECOMMENDED VIEWING
  • Jay-Z's great taste in directors continues with the Safdie brothers, who both lent a deft hand for the "Marcy Me" video, which feels like a thematic addendum to their own film Good Time.
  • Ava Duvernay (Selma) also directed this star-studded epic music video for Jay-Z's "Family Feud".
  • Who doesn't love pulp movie maestro Samuel Fuller? In the event of their active retrospective of his work, the Cinémathèque française provides this ecstatic montage of a few of his finest films.
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  • Perhaps you missed Sarah Nicole Prickett's incisive recaps of Twin Peaks: The Return for Artforum? If that's the case, you can catch up here. Prickett has shared her final take on Episode 18 and the series overall, and it was well worth the wait.
  • From Alejandro G. Iñárritu to Jia Zhangke—the January/February edition of Film Comment is here, with many pieces available to read online.
  • At CNN, Francesca Street interviews Craig Deman regarding his beguiling series of photographs (see a stunning one above) of abandoned drive-in cinemas.
  • Our favorite collection of year-end lists is now live at Senses of Cinema, which has gathered a remarkable range of contributors and films.
  • Conversely to that collection of great films, Reverse Shot offers its incendiary takes on the worst movies of the...
Part of the Jerry Lewis tribute A MUBI Jerrython.Jerry Lewis's rise to stardom almost perfectly coincides with the rise of television as the dominant entertainment medium of the post-war era. 1946, the first year a somewhat consistent network schedule emerged in the U.S., with several hours of daily programming, Lewis teamed up with Dean Martin, and they almost immediately started gaining success as a nightclub comedy double act. Two years later, Martin and Lewis started appearing on television and quickly established themselves as a steady presence there, too. To skip through the patchy archive of Lewis's early television appearances on YouTube and elsewhere means encountering a comedian, who entered the limelight almost fully formed (and often much more fully formed than the medium he appeared in), but who also seemed to feel constrained by the opportunities given to him almost from the start. Lewis and television were not a perfect match, but in some ways they were able to reveal each other.The earliest longer clip I found on YouTube is from a 1949 Texaco Star Theater episode. The version online is probably taken from the VHS “Milton Berle, the Second Time Around”, released in 1989, and it starts with an introduction by Berle, the show’s moderator and - in 1949 - the biggest star on television. Standing, in true faux grand seigneur fashion, in front of a bookshelf, he claims that Martin and Lewis made their television debut on his show. Which is not true,...
Close-Up is a feature that spotlights films now playing on MUBI. Tsai Ming-liang's Rebels of the Neon God (1992) is showing December 27, 2017 - January 26, 2018 on MUBI in the United States. Rebels of the Neon God (1992) is an exquisitely controlled movie. It's also a nakedly desperate work, in which anguish and isolation radiate from nearly every frame. I think it's best to start with this seeming contrast: intense emotion and rigorous calculation are commonly thought of as opposed to each other, and, outside of art, they usually are. Saying that the movie's writer-director, Tsai Ming-liang, tempers his pain with his artistry is too neat a formulation; what's more plausible is that, to the extent to which they're distinguishable, each inflects the other, and neither one comes first. There are doublings, recurrences and rhymes in the film’s narrative of alienated youth in 90s Taipei; the action is elaborately composed and unfolds in long, perfectly timed takes; and the level of agony and ennui is feverish. It's probably best to say—to speculate—that Tsai, in his theatrical feature debut, found an aesthetic to go with his feelings, and feelings to go with his aesthetic.It’s about four minutes into the film that we hear its first line of dialogue: a woman asking her son to explain what is, to us and possibly to him, inexplicable. The scene starts with a skittering insect. Alone in his room and pretending to be studying algebra, Hsiao-kang (Lee Kang-sheng) impales...
Contemporary Chinese Cinema is a column devoted to exploring contemporary Chinese-language cinema primarily as it is revealed to us at North American multiplexes.The Thousand Faces of DunjiaOpening the same weekend as The Last Jedi, though on considerably fewer screens in North America, were two films from major Chinese filmmakers. The Thousand Faces of Dunjia is a CGI-driven fantasy epic by two legends of Hong Kong cinema: writer/producer Tsui Hark and director Yuen Woo-ping. Youth is a coming-of-age melodrama set amidst an arts troupe in the later years of the Cultural Revolution from Beijing-based director Feng Xiaogang. Dunjia had been billed throughout its production as a remake of Yuen’s 1982 feature The Miracle Fighters, and this, combined with Tsui’s facility with modern technology (as seen earlier this year in his Journey to the West: Demons Strike Back, a collaboration with another Hong Kong auteur, Stephen  Chow), positioned it as one of the most promising films of 2017. That it fails to bear any real relation to The Miracle Fighters, or really be of much interest at all, is a crushing disappointment. Youth doesn’t really live up to expectations either, at least not those aroused by the abrupt cancellation of the film’s release earlier this year. There was some hope that, building off his satire of Chinese bureaucracy in last year’s I Am Not Madame Bovary, Feng had breached some kind of governmental taboo in his depiction of the Cultural Revolution, still a largely forbidden subject in the...