AMC Empire 25
234 West 42nd St. between Seventh & Eighth Aves.
October 22-25, $49-$125
thefoodfilmfestival.com
Food and film go together like, well, dinner and a movie. The annual Food Film Fest takes it to the next level, showing films about food, accompanied by special talks and tastings. The 2015 event features more than two dozen short works, including several New York City, U.S., and world premieres. Among the tasty morsels are Nina Ha’s rap music parody Baby Got Kale, Barbara Zonzin’s Choco Thriller, Barbara Tranter’s Happy Goats Happy Cheese, Derek Klingenberg’s Serenading the Cattle with My Trombone, and Natasha Subramaniam and Alisa Lapidus’s animated fridge fight, Zergut. The festival takes place at the AMC Empire in Times Square, beginning October 22 ($89 / VIP $114) with “Tender: Stories of Love and Meat, which pairs four films with Texas BBQ from Kreuz Market, Kent Black of Black’s Barbecue, and Scott Morales of Taylor Café, pork tacos by Tortilleria Nixtamal, sliders from Schnipper’s, and potent potables from Iron Station, Black Rooster, and NY Distilling Co. October 23 ($99 / VIP $124) is the ever-popular “Food Porn Party,” with nine films, an appearance by Larry Caldwell, a VIP party by Public, ramen by Yosuke Sumida with Keizo Shimamoto, a vegetarian treat from Dirt Candy’s Amanda Cohen, and sweets from Archichef and Top Pot Donuts. On October 24 at noon (kids $23, adults $32, family packages $100-$125), “Eat Your Movies!” is a family event with six children’s films, food by Night Kitchen inspired by the films, treats from Fishing Creak Creamery and Robicelli’s, and kid-friendly food activities. On Saturday night ($99 / VIP $129), “Edible Adventure #13: Hungry for Love” consists of five films, a VIP party by David Burke Kitchen, food from Uncle Boons, Manna’s, chef Karl Palma, and Liddabit Sweets, and a matcha tea tasting. The culinary festivities conclude on October 25 at noon ($49) with “Restaurant Revival: Jodie’s Diner (1985-2014),” a screening of James Boo’s Nothing with Something: The Death of a Diner, with brunch prepared by Jodie Royston of Jodie’s Restaurant, the Albany, California, favorite that closed last year but is looking for a new home. Part of the proceeds from the festival benefit the Billion Oyster Project.


Taiwanese master Hou Hsiao-hsien’s first film in eight years is a visually sumptuous feast, perhaps the most beautifully poetic wuxia film ever made. Inspired by a chuanqi story by Pei Xing, The Assassin is set during the ninth-century Tang dynasty, on the brink of war between Weibo and the Royal Court. Exiled from her home since she was ten, Nie Yinniang (Hou muse Shu Qi) has returned thirteen years later, now an expert assassin, trained by the nun (Fang-Yi Sheu) who raised her to be a cold-blooded killer out for revenge. After being unable to execute a hit out of sympathy for her target’s child, Yinniang is ordered to kill Tian Ji’an (Chang Chen), her cousin and the man to whom she was betrothed as a young girl, as a lesson to teach her not to let personal passions rule her. But don’t worry about the plot, which is far from clear and at times impossible to follow. Instead, glory in Hou’s virtuosity as a filmmaker; he was named Best Director at Cannes for The Assassin, a meditative journey through a fantastical medieval world. Hou and cinematographer Mark Lee Ping-Bing craft each frame like it’s a classical Chinese painting, a work of art unto itself. The camera moves slowly, if at all, as the story plays out in long shots, in both time and space, with very few close-ups and no quick cuts, even during the martial arts fights in which Yinniang displays her awesome skills. Hou often lingers on her face, which shows no outward emotion, although her soul is in turmoil. Hou evokes Andrei Tarkovsky, Akira Kurosawa, Ang Lee, and Zhang Yimou as he takes the viewer from spectacular mountains and river valleys to lush interiors (the stunning sets and gorgeous costumes, bathed in red, black, and gold, are by Hwarng Wern-ying), with silk curtains, bamboo and birch trees, columns, and other elements often in the foreground, along with mist, fog, and smoke, occasionally obscuring the proceedings, lending a surreal quality to Hou’s innate realism.
“Sometimes, reality is too complex for oral communication. But legend embodies it in a form which enables it to spread all over the world,” a growly, disembodied, mechanical-like voice says at the beginning of Jean-Luc Godard’s futuristic sci-fi noir thriller, Alphaville: Une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution. Godard’s 1965 black-and-white masterpiece takes place in an unidentified time period in a dark, unadorned, special-effects-free Paris. A tough-as-nails man in hat and trench coat named Lemmy Caution (Eddie Constantine) has arrived in Alphaville from the Outlands, claiming to be journalist Ivan Johnson, on assignment from the Figaro-Pravda newspaper. But his real mission is to first find fellow agent Henry Dickson (Akim Tamiroff), then capture or kill Alphaville leader and death-ray inventor Professor Vonbraun (Howard Vernon), the former Leonard Nosferatu. A Guadalcanal veteran who drives a Ford Galaxie, Caution — a character Constantine played in a series of films based on the novels of Peter Cheyney, including This Man Is Dangerous, Dames Get Along, and Your Turn, Darling — is a no-nonsense guy who takes nothing for granted. “All things weird are normal in this whore of cities,” he tells a blond seductress third class, who apparently comes with his hotel room. Documenting everything he sees with an Instamatic flash camera, Caution (perhaps a stand-in for Godard himself?) is soon visited by Natasha Vonbraun (Anna Karina), the professor’s daughter, setting off on an Orwellian journey through a grim city where poetry and emotion, and such words as “love,” “why,” and “conscience,” are banned in favor of “because” and “Silence. Logic. Security. Prudence,” where the hotel Bible is actually an ever-changing dictionary and enemies of the state are killed in swimming pools and pulled out by clones of Esther Williams, all overseen by a computer known as Alpha 60 (whose text, based on writings by Jorge Luis Borges, is eerily spoken by a man without a larynx, using a mechanized voice box). 


Afia Serena Nathaniel’s Dukhtar is an important film in many ways, but it’s too bad it isn’t just a little bit better. A hit at festivals around the world and Pakistan’s submission for the Academy Awards, the Pakistan-U.S. coproduction deals with the very serious topic of women’s freedom. In modern-day Pakistan, two local tribal leaders, Daulat Khan (Asif Khan) and Tor Gul (Abdullah Jaan), are trying to end a generations-old Hatfield and McCoys-like battle. The elderly Tor Gul offers peace in exchange for Daulat Khan’s ten-year-old daughter, Zainab (Saleha Aref); he’ll take her as a wife, and the feud will end. But Daulat Khan’s own wife, Allah Rakhi (Samiya Mumtaz), who herself was forced to marry at the age of fifteen, decides that she does not want her daughter to live like that, so she and Zainab head out on the run, trying to escape the young girl’s fate. They are chased by Tor Gul’s vicious enforcer, Ghorzang Khan (Adnan Shah Tipu), as well as Daulat Khan’s brother, Shehbaz Khan (Ajab Gul), who is in love with Allah Rakhi. They hitch a ride with Sohail (Mohib Mirza) in his fabulously decorated truck, but Sohail soon realizes he is in deeper than he ever wanted to be as well. Inspired by a true story, Dukhtar features beautiful cinematography by Armughan Hassan and Najaf Bilgrami, showing off the lovely vast desert and mountain landscapes of Gilgit-Baltistan in northern Pakistan, and television veteran Mumtaz is riveting as a strong yet vulnerable woman who wants to change long-held traditions, to be a person rather than a thing, but the narrative feels choppy and too direct, telegraphing its themes, and the plot makes too many jumps and has too many holes. In her feature debut, writer, director, producer, and coeditor Afia has a gripping story to tell, but its power is muted by the more melodramatic aspects of this feminist road-trip thriller, which nonetheless has very touching and powerful moments.