this week in film and television

THE VILLAGE DETECTIVE: a song cycle

Bill Morrison explores Russian and Soviet cinematic history from a unique angle in The Village Detective

THE VILLAGE DETECTIVE: a song cycle (Bill Morrison, 2021)
IFC Center
323 Sixth Ave. at West Third St.
September 22-30
212-924-777
www.ifccenter.com

In the 1970 documentary Zharov Tells, longtime Russian film favorite Mikhail Zharov says, “Remembering my life, I am trying to follow, to find for myself, and for others too, especially the young, the answer to the question of how life gets woven into art and how art reflects life.” When it comes to cinema, Chicago-born, New York City–based filmmaker Bill Morrison has been excavating this connection for more than thirty years, in such masterworks as Dawson City: Frozen Time and Decasia.

Morrison uses found footage, often in terrible shape, the celluloid practically disintegrating in his hands and before our eyes onscreen, to examine sociocultural issues and film history itself. So when his friend Jóhann Jóhannsson, the Icelandic musician and composer who passed away in 2018 at the age of forty-eight, emailed him in July 2016 about a lobster trawl that had scraped up a film canister, Morrison jumped at the opportunity to explore its contents. Fishing in Faxaflói, about twenty nautical miles southwest of the Snæfellsjökull glacier, near the Mid-Atlantic Ridge where the North American and Eurasian plates meet — what Morrison calls in the film “the deep divide between East and West” — the lobster boat Fróði had scooped up four reels containing an incomplete copy of Ivan Lukinsky’s 1969 Soviet crime comedy Derevenskiy Detektiv (Village Detective), starring Zharov as local rural policeman Fyodor Ivanovich Aniskin, who is investigating the theft of an accordion.

While there is nothing special about the movie, which is not some long-lost treasure but just a mediocre-at-best tale that led to two sequels, Morrison decided to become a kind of detective himself, doing a deep dive into Zharov’s oeuvre, producing a unique look at twentieth-century Soviet and Russian history as seen through its cinema. And he centers his film on the found reels of Derevenskiy Detektiv, with all their glips, blotches, dirt, and grime instead of using a cleaner print (which is available), adding an extra layer of commentary on the changes occurring from multiple revolutions, two world wars, and the transition from tsars to Vladimir Lenin and Joseph Stalin.

Serving as producer, director, and editor, Morrison includes numerous clips of Zharov, who was born in 1899 and died in 1981, having appeared in more than five dozen films and a hundred theatrical productions, beginning with his debut as a soldier in 1915’s Tsar Ivan the Terrible and including 1931’s Road to Life, in which Zharov, as a thief named Zhigan, became the first actor to sing in Russian on camera. Morrison concentrates on the clips themselves; there are only a few moments of commentary, from Erlendur Sveinsson, the former director of the National Film Archive of Iceland who supervised the preservation of the discovered reels, and George Eastman Museum curator Peter Bagrov, who compares Zharov’s popularity to that of Humphrey Bogart or Clark Gable in Hollywood.

“Once you were a prince. Now you are a nobody,” Zharov says as Menshikov to the title character in 1937’s Peter the First. “I am not Soviet,” he declares as Dymba in 1939’s New Horizons. He displays his loyalty to Comrade Stalin as Perchikhin in 1942’s Fortress on the Volga. He plays a former soldier for the tsar who is now a Bolshevik in 1942’s He Will Come Back. The next year, in In the Name of the Fatherland, he proclaims as Globa, “I hate these Bolsheviks. I hate them more than I hate you!” And in Sergei Eisenstein’s 1958 Ivan the Terrible Pt. 2., Zharov states as guard Malyuta Skuratov, “I would give my soul for the tsar.”

The soundtrack, composed by Pulitzer and Grammy winner and Oscar nominee David Lang, also takes us back to old Russia with a sly nod to the plot of Derevenskiy Detektiv; the compelling score was written for one accordion and is played by Norwegian musician Frode Andersen, with vocals by Shara Nova. Not only is the accordion a traditional Eastern European folk instrument but it was used by Tchaikovsky, Sterligov, and others in their orchestrations. The final seconds of the film bring it all together beautifully.

“You know, when I heard about the reels being found, I was expecting a lost silent masterpiece and not a film which we have in our collection on camera negative from which it’s been shown on television from month to month,” Bagrov recounts. Lukinsky’s Derevenskiy Detektiv might not be a masterpiece of any kind, but Morrison’s (The Miners’ Hymns, The Great Flood) The Village Detective is another masterful triumph from one of America’s most ingenious filmmakers.

NYFF59: FREE TALKS

Apichatpong Weerasethakul will discuss his new film, Memoria,) at NYFF59 free talk

NYFF59 FREE TALKS
Film at Lincoln Center
Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center Amphitheater
144 West Sixty-Fifth Street between Broadway & Amsterdam Ave.
September 25 – October 9, free (first come, first serve one hour before program)
www.filmlinc.org

The New York Film Festival, which opens today, has just announced its slate of free talks, taking place September 25 to October 9 at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center Amphitheater (with one exception). Admission is first come, first served starting an hour before each event; the talks will also be recorded for later on-demand viewing on YouTube. The highlight is the inaugural Amos Vogel Lecture, honoring the centennial of the birth of the cofounder of the festival, who is also the subject of a centenary retrospective. The lecture will be given by Albert Serra, the director of previous NYFF selections The Death of Louis XIV and Liberté and who wrote the foreword for the French edition of Vogel’s seminal book, Film as a Subversive Art.

The rest of the panel discussions, in-depth conversations, and filmmaker dialogues are divided into “Deep Focus,” “Crosscuts,” and “Film Comment Live,” with such participants as Jane Campion (The Power of the Dog), Sofia Coppola, Mia Hansen-Løve (Bergman Island), Joachim Trier (The Worst Person in the World), Todd Haynes (The Velvet Underground), Apichatpong Weerasethakul (Memoria, Night Colonies), Ryûsuke Hamaguchi (Drive My Car, Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy), and Amy Taubin. The discussion about the thirtieth anniversary of Mississippi Masala with director Mira Nair, star Sarita Choudhury, and cinematographer Ed Lachman, moderated by Jhumpa Lahiri, follows the free screening of the film in Damrosch Park, for ticket holders only. Below is the full schedule.

Jane Campion will delve into her NYFF59 centerpiece selection, The Power of the Dog, with Sofia Coppola

Saturday, September 25
Deep Focus: The Making of Mississippi Masala, with Mira Nair, Sarita Choudhury, and Ed Lachman, moderated by Jhumpa Lahiri, Damrosch Park, 9:30

Sunday, September 26
Roundtable: Cinema’s Workers, with Abby Sun, Ted Fendt, Kazembe Balagun, and Dana Kopel, moderated by Gina Telaroli, Amphitheater, 7:00

Monday, September 27
Crosscuts: Mia Hansen-Løve & Joachim Trier, Amphitheater, 7:00

Saturday, October 2
Deep Focus: Jane Campion, moderated by Sofia Coppola, Amphitheater, 4:00

Crosscuts: Silvan Zürcher & Alexandre Koberidze, Amphitheater, 7:00

Sunday, October 3
Film Comment Live: The Velvet Underground & the New York Avant-Garde, with Todd Haynes, Ed Lachman, and Amy Taubin, Amphitheater, 4:00

Deep Focus: Ryûsuke Hamaguchi, Amphitheater, 7:00

Tuesday, October 5
Deep Focus: Maggie Gyllenhaal & Kira Kovalenko, Amphitheater, 7:00

Thursday, October 7
Deep Focus: Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Amphitheater, 6:30

Saturday, October 9
Film Comment Live: Festival Report, with Devika Girish, Clinton Krute, Molly Haskell, Bilge Ebiri, and Phoebe Chen, Amphitheater, 7:00

NYFF59 MAIN SLATE: TITANE

Agathe Rousselle makes a sizzling debut in Julia Ducournau’s Titane

TITANE (TITANIUM) (Julia Ducournau, 2021)
New York Film Festival
Sunday, September 26, Alice Tully Hall, 9:00
Monday, September 27, Alice Tully Hall, 8:45
Wednesday, September 29, Walter Reade Theater, 3:45
www.filmlinc.org

Julia Ducournau’s Titane is a dark, disturbing body horror thriller about family, fetishization, and obsession, a pulse-pounding, high-octane mash-up of David Cronenberg’s Crash, Donald Cammell’s The Demon Seed, and Mervyn LeRoy’s The Bad Seed.

Winner of the Palme d’Or at the 2021 Cannes Film Festival, Titane features newcomer Agathe Rousselle in a revved-up performance as Alexia, a young woman whose life changed dramatically after getting seriously hurt in a car accident when she was a little girl (Adèle Guigue), having a titanium plate put in her head, an odd scar left over her right ear. The teenage Alexia is drawn to raging fires and the cool, metallic smoothness of cars. She has become somewhat of a star at auto shows, where she dances alluringly, touching and mounting cars like they are lovers, attracting a fan base of men who would do just about anything for an autograph, a selfie, or a kiss, and is befriended by fellow dancer Justine (Garance Marillier). But she’s also prone to taking out her long, sharp hairpin and stabbing people to death.

With the cops closing in, she radically changes her appearance — just try not to look away when she purposely breaks her nose — and pretends to be Adrien, a boy who has been missing for more than ten years. Adrien’s fire-captain father, Vincent (a stoic Vincent Lindon), takes her in, overjoyed that he has his son back. Alexia stops speaking and hides her breasts and stomach from Vincent — a belly that is growing by the day, leaking oil instead of blood, as something unusual seems to be developing in her womb. Despite her PTSD and addiction, Alexia tries to have a normal life, but danger lurks around every corner.

Writer-director Ducournau burst onto the scene with her 2016 debut, the FIPRESCI Prize–winning Raw, which involved vegetarianism, blood galore, and, like Titane, main characters named Adrien, Alexia, and Justine. (In fact, Marillier has played women named Justine in these two films as well as Ducournau’s 2011 short, Junior.). Body metamorphosis is a continuing theme in Ducournau’s oeuvre, and it is at the center of Titane. At first, Alexia is a tall blond with a body to die for and rad tattoos — one on her chest proclaims, “Love is a dog from hell” — but as time goes on, she is barely recognizable, her breasts sagging, her skin breaking open, motor oil leaking out. Alexia is often seen naked as Ducournau documents her change.

Vincent London shows off his bod and his acting chops in body horror thriller Titane

Award-winning French star Lindon (Welcome, The Measure of a Man), in a role specifically created for him, gets to show off his (dad) bod as well; he worked out for a year to get into great shape to play a haunted man obsessed with his abs, shooting hormones into his bruised butt every night to help him keep up with the younger generation. Where Alexia hides her body, Vincent enjoys being bare-chested any chance he gets.

Titane won the People’s Choice Award for Midnight Madness at the 2021 Toronto International Film Festival, and it’s easy to see why. But there’s a method to its madness; Ducournau, whose parents were both doctors, is not just shocking the audience but making it look at things it usually would turn away from or think differently about, pulling back the curtain on gender and body issues and the relationship between parents and children. The fierce soundtrack by Jim Williams is bookended by two versions of the folk gospel standard “The Wayfaring Stranger,” about a lost soul on the road home to Jordan, to meet their mother and father.

Despite the nastiness that Alexia does, and she does a whole lot of nastiness, we continue to root for her, and not merely out of sympathy for her past. (We also forgive Ducournau her plot holes and extended dance scenes.) In a man’s world, she’s been forced to give up who she is. She refuses to be yet another classic car to be gazed upon, an inanimate metal object to be worshipped. In the end, all she’s really looking for is to be loved and understood.

Titane is screening September 26, 27, and 29 at the New York Film Festival, with Ducournau, only the second female director to win the Palme D’Or — Jane Campion, whose new western, The Power of the Dog, is the centerpiece selection for NYFF59, won the award in 1993 for The Piano — participating in Q&As after the first two show, before opening theatrically October 1.

NYFF59 MAIN SLATE: BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONY PORN

Emi (Katia Pascariu) goes on a strange journey in Rade Jude’s Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn

BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONY PORN: A SKETCH FOR A POSSIBLE FILM (BABARDEALA CU BUCLUC SAU PORNO BALAMUC) (Radu Jude, 2021)
New York Film Festival, Lincoln Center
Saturday, September 25, Alice Tully Hall, with virtual Q&A, 9:00
Sunday, September 26, Francesca Beale Theater, 8:00
www.filmlinc.org

Radu Jude’s brilliantly absurdist Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn lives up to its title, a wildly satiric takedown of social mores that redefines what is obscene. Winner of the Golden Bear for Best Film at the 2021 Berlinale, the multipart tale begins with an extremely graphic prologue, a XXX-rated homemade porn video with a woman and an unseen man holding nothing back. In the first main section, the woman, a successful teacher named Emi (Katia Pascariu), is distressed to learn that the video is threatening to go viral. She determinedly walks through the streets of Bucharest, buying flowers (which she holds upside down), discussing her dilemma with her boss, the headmistress (Claudia Ieremia), and calling her husband, Eugen, trying to get the video deleted before her meeting with angry parents at the prestigious private school where she teaches young children.

Jude and cinematographer Marius Panduru follow the masked Emi — the film was shot during the pandemic, so masks are everywhere — on her journey, the camera often lingering on the scene well after Emi has left the frame, focusing on advertising billboards, couples in the middle of conversations, people waiting for a bus, and other random actions, before finding Emi again. She sometimes fades into the background, barely seen through the windows of a passing vehicle or amid a crowd crossing at a light. She gets into an argument with a man who has parked on the sidewalk, blocking her way; she insists that he move the car, but he unleashes a stream of misogynistic curses. Swear words are prevalent throughout the film, mostly adding poignant humor.

The second segment consists of a montage of archival and new footage that details some of Romania’s recent history, involving the military, the government, religion, fascism, Nazi collaboration, patriotism, the two world wars, the 1989 revolution, Nicolae Ceaușescu, domestic violence, jokes about blondes, and the value of cinema itself. The bevy of images also points out which NSFW word is most commonly looked up in the dictionary, as well as which is second. (The film is splendidly edited by Cătălin Cristuțiu, with a fab soundtrack by Jura Ferina and Pavao Miholjević.)

It all comes together in the third section, in the school garden, where Emi faces a few dozen masked, socially distanced, very angry parents and grandparents who want her fired immediately, while the headmistress demands a calm discussion. The masked Emi is a stand-in for all of us, facing the wrath of the unruly mob forcing its sanctimonious platitudes on others when it really needs to look at itself. It’s a riotously funny sitcomlike debate in which Jude roasts many common, hypocritical beliefs held by Romanians (and people all over the world) that have not necessarily changed much from the news clips shown in the previous part.

The cartoonish cast, which includes Olimpia Mălai as Mrs. Lucia, Nicodim Ungureanu as Lt. Gheorghescu, Alexandru Potocean as Marius Buzdrugovici, and Andi Vasluianu as Mr. Otopeanu, really gets to strut its stuff while making sure their masks are properly covering their mouths and noses. They argue about beloved national poet Mihai Eminescu and Russian writer Isaac Babel, delve into various sexual positions, repeat Woody the Woodpecker’s trademark call, and quote long, intellectual passages from the internet as Jude (I Do Not Care If We Go Down in History as Barbarians, Aferim!) reveals where society’s true obscenities lie. It’s an irreverent tour de force that offers three distinct endings to put a capper on the strangely alluring affair, turning a scary mirror on the sorry state of twenty-first-century existence.

Playfully subtitled A Sketch for a Possible Film in a reference to André Malraux’s description of Eugène Delacroix’s belief that his sketches could be of the same quality as his paintings, Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn is making its US premiere September 25 and 26 at the New York Film Festival; the first screening will be followed by a virtual Q&A. The film opens in theaters November 19.

WIFE OF A SPY

Yû Aoi and Issey Takahashi star as a couple caught up in intrigue and suspicion in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Wife of a Spy

WIFE OF A SPY (スパイの妻) (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2020)
IFC Center
323 Sixth Ave. at West Third St.
Opens Friday, September 17
212-924-7771
www.ifccenter.com

Japanese master filmmaker Kiyoshi Kurosawa follows up his gorgeous, haunting To the Ends of the Earth with the tense and gripping thriller Wife of a Spy, opening September 17 at IFC. Photographed in 8K — though screened in 2K — the striking film is set in Kobe, Japan, in 1940, where successful merchant Yusaku (Issey Takahashi) lives with his devoted wife, Satoko (Yû Aoi); the two have also just made an amateur movie together.

With Yusaku off on a business trip in Manchuria with his nephew, Fumio (Ryôta Bandô), Satoko is visited by her childhood friend, Taiji (Masahiro Higashide), who has just accepted a position as head of the military police in Kobe. He is suspicious of Yusaku and advises Satoko that it is not proper for her to wear modern clothing instead of kimono. After a long delay, Yusaku and Fumio return to Kobe with the mysterious Hiroko Kusakabe (Hyunri), but something clearly has changed. Satoko begins to think that her husband might be a spy and a traitor, so she must decide whether to stand by him while under the suspecting watch of Taiji. When she first confronts Yusaku, demanding that he tell her exactly what is going on, he responds, “Don’t ask. I beg you. I haven’t done anything shameful. I’m not made to lie to you, so I’ll be silent. Don’t ask, because I’ll have to answer.” Satoko soon makes her choice, but there are eloquent twists and turns galore as dangerous secrets unfold.

In Wife of a Spy, Kurosawa, who has made such well-regarded suspense films as Pulse and Cure as well as the moving Tokyo Sonata, evokes elements of such classics as Carol Reed’s The Third Man, Michael Curtiz’s Casablanca, Andrew Lau and Alan Mak’s Infernal Affairs trilogy, Masako Kobayashi’s ten-hour The Human Condition, and several Alfred Hitchcock standards — including Suspicion, Notorious, and North by Northwest — none of which makes it feel derivative but instead fits in with the use of film itself in the narrative. The deliberate pace is wholly effective, with a tight screenplay written by Kurosawa, who won the Silver Lion as Best Director at the Venice Film Festival, with Ryûsuke Hamaguchi and Tadashi Nohara, two of his students at Tokyo University of the Arts. Although the story is fictional, the information about what the Kwantung Army was doing in Manchuria is based on fact, something Japan tried to keep under wraps for many decades.

Aoi (Hula Girls, Birds without Names) and Takahashi (Kill Bill, Whispers of the Heart), who previously starred together in Yuki Tanada’s Romance Doll, are both terrific, slowly allowing their characters’ motives to come out as the cat-and-mouse game between Yusaku and Sakoto, Yusaku and Taiji, and Taiji and Sakoto continues. And it’s always a treat to see Takashi Sasano (Nobuhiko Ōbayashi’s Casting Blossoms to the Sky and Labyrinth of Cinema, Kurosawa’s Bright Future and Creepy), who makes a cameo as Doctor Nozaki. The period piece is beautifully filmed by Tatsunosuke Sasaki, successfully capturing the era, and highlighted by an unforgettable moment near the end involving Sakoto, part of what makes Wife of a Spy much more than just another WWII espionage drama.

IN BALANCHINE’S CLASSROOM

New documentary focuses on George Balanchine’s teaching methods (photo by Martha Swope)

IN BALANCHINE’S CLASSROOM (Connie Hochman, 2021)
Film Forum
209 West Houston St.
Opens Friday, September 17
212-727-8110
filmforum.org

This summer, dance fans have been treated to behind-the-scenes glimpses at the creative process of three legendary choreographers. First was Bill T. Jones in Rosalynde LeBlanc and Tom Hurwitz’s Can You Bring It: Bill T. Jones and D-Man in the Waters, followed by Alvin Ailey in Jamila Wignot’s Ailey. Now comes an exciting look at New York City Ballet cofounder George Balanchine in Connie Hochman’s In Balanchine’s Classroom, opening September 17 at Film Forum. Hochman, who trained at Balanchine’s School of American Ballet and danced with the Pennsylvania Ballet, has been working on the film since 2007, interviewing one hundred people who worked with Balanchine and gaining access to the archives of the George Balanchine Trust, incorporating rare, never-before-seen footage of Balanchine teaching his company in his unique style.

Several prominent former NYCB dancers share their experiences of the classes, in which Balanchine would focus on every minute aspect of movement, from the hands and the feet to the size of jumps. “He not only started a company; he changed the whole look of ballet,” says Gloria Govrin, artistic director of Eastern Connecticut Ballet. “It was more than just technique that he taught. It’s everything together that made the dancer,” Suki Schorer, senior faculty member of the School of American Ballet, explains. “The classroom was where he went to see how far he could make his dancers go,” Balanchine coach and stager Merrill Ashley notes. “He was our artistic father,” Edward Villella, founding artistic director of Miami City Ballet, says, pointing out how important it was for everyone to try to please him.

Hochman also speaks extensively with Balanchine-method coach and mentor Heather Watts and Jacques d’Amboise, the founder and president of National Dance Institute, who passed away in May at the age of eighty-six. (Sadly, twenty of Hochman’s subjects are no longer with us.) Photographs and film clips of all of the above show them dancing for the NYCB, interacting with Balanchine, and keeping his legacy alive by teaching such dancers as Tiler Peck, Stella Abrera, and Unity Phelan of NYCB, Calvin Royal III of ABT, and other professionals as well as young kids. “I think as teachers we have an obligation to share with the younger generation the way that he advocated, but it’s become the problem,” Ashley says. “We’re not Balanchine.”

There’s terrific, though grainy, black-and-white footage (and some later color) from such classic Balanchine ballets as Apollo, Prodigal Son, Serenade, Symphony in C, Orpheus, Agon, Jewels, and Stravinsky Violin Concerto while Hochman also explores Balanchine’s early years: He was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, in 1904, started dancing when he was nine, was hired as a choreographer by Serge Diaghilev for the Ballets Russes, was brought to American by Lincoln Kirstein, who cofounded the NYCB with Balanchine and helped fund the construction of the company’s home at the New York State Theater at Lincoln Center, and developed a fruitful working relationship with composer Igor Stravinsky. Balanchine is heard in numerous audio clips unearthed by Hochman. “I don’t accept the way it looks and it’s very difficult to discuss why,” he says. “I can’t say what inspires, if you use that high-class word, ‘inspiration.’ It’s your past, where you were born, what you’ve done in your life.”

All of the interview subjects agree that Balanchine could be extremely hard on his dancers, but he also gave them a freedom, appreciating them as individuals. They are also afraid of what might become of his ballets in the future, but Balanchine’s legacy seems safe in their capable hands. Film Forum will host three in-person Q&As opening weekend, with Hochman and Ashley on September 17 at 6:30 and September 19 at 5:20 and with Hochman and Villella on September 18 at 6:30. The 2021–22 NYCB season opens September 21 and will include Balanchine’s Serenade, Symphony in C, Western Symphony, Agon, La Valse, and The Nutcracker.

NYFF59: AMOS VOGEL CENTENARY RETROSPECTIVE

Dušan Makavejev’s WR: Mysteries of the Organism is part of NYFF centenary tribute to cofounder Amos Vogel

NEW YORK FILM FESTIVAL
Film Society of Lincoln Center
Howard Gilman Theater, Francesca Beale Theater
144 West 65th St. between Broadway & Amsterdam Ave.
September 25 – October 2
www.filmlinc.org/nyff2021

“This is a book about the subversion of existing values, institutions, mores, and taboos — East and West, Left and Right — by the potentially most powerful art of the century,” Amos Vogel writes in his seminal 1974 book, Film as a Subversive Art. “During half the time spent at the movies, the viewer sees no picture at all; and at no time is there any movement. Without the viewer’s physiological and psychological complicity, the cinema would not exist. The ‘illusion’ of film — so platitudinously invoked by journalists — is thus revealed as a far more intricate web of deception, involving the very technology of the film process and the nature of its victim’s perceptions. Could it be precisely during the periods of total darkness — 45 out of every 90 minutes we see — that our voracious subconscious, newly nourished by yet another provocative image, ‘absorbs’ the work’s deeper meaning and sets off chains of associations?”

When I was in college, a bunch of guys in my fraternity told me about a course they were signed up for, what they called “Monday Night at the Movies.” They couldn’t believe they could sit in a theater and watch movies while earning college credit. For me, it became a life-changing experience. Little did I know at the time — before the internet and social media — but the professor, Amos Vogel, was one of the most important figures in bringing experimental and foreign works to America, as founder of Cinema 16 and cofounder of the New York Film Festival. I was surprised when I was accepted into NYU’s master’s program in cinema studies but eventually realized that it was Professor Vogel’s recommendation that certainly had more than something to do with it. For years, I would see him at NYFF and remind him that without his help, I would not have been there, writing about film and other forms of art and culture, particularly those on the cutting-edge, pushing boundaries and setting off chains of associations.

The fifty-ninth edition of the New York Film Festival is honoring the centennial of Vogel’s birth — he was born in Vienna on April 18, 1921, and passed away on April 24, 2012 — with a special Spotlight sidebar of seven programs paying tribute to his legacy. “Cinema 16” re-creates a May 1950 presentation that includes Sidney Peterson’s The Lead Shoes, Lester F. Beck’s Unconscious Motivation, John Huston’s The Battle of San Pietro, and three shorts by Oskar Fischinger. The other programs are dedicated to films Vogel screened at NYFF from 1963 to 1968: Glauber Rocha’s Barravento; Jiří Menzel, Jan Němec, Evald Schorm, Věra Chytilová, and Jaromil Jireš’s five-part Pearls of the Deep; Tony Conrad’s The Flicker (which I remember well from class) paired with Peter Emmanuel Goldman’s Echoes of Silence (“The New American Cinema”); Lebert Bethune’s Malcolm X: Struggle for Freedom, Santiago Álvarez’s Now, and David Neuman and Ed Pincus’s Black Natchez (“The Social Cinema in America, 1967”); 12th and Oxford Street Film Makers’ The Jungle, Jaime Barrios’s Film Club, and Maxine Tsosie and Mary J. Tsosie’s The Spirit of the Navajo (“Personal Cinema”); and Dušan Makavejev’s WR: Mysteries of the Organism — a still from the film, of star Milena Dravić pushing her right arm through an empty picture frame, standing next to a bunny on a chair, adorns the cover of Vogel’s book — and Robert Frerck’s Nebula II (“Film as a Subversive Art”).

Vogel’s approach to film was intrinsically linked to his approach to life, from the political to the personal. After taking the class, I began questioning the status quo everywhere, looking at my daily existence through a new lens, an outlook that continues to this day. “Art can never take the place of social action, and its effectiveness may indeed be seriously impaired by restrictions imposed by the power structure, but its task remains forever the same: to change consciousness,” he writes in his book. “When this occurs, it is so momentous an achievement, even with a single human being, that it provides both justifications and explanations of subversive art. The subversive artist performs as a social being. For if it is true that developments in philosophy, politics, physics, and cosmology have affected the evolution of modern art, and if the subversion of the contemporary filmmaker is thus fed by art itself, it is also directly related to society as a whole.”

He presciently argues back in 1974, “Wherever [the artist] turns, he sees exploitation and magnificent wealth, heart-rending poverty and colossal waste, the destruction of races and entire countries in the name of democracy or a new order, the denial of personal liberties on a global scale, the corruption of power and privilege, and the growing international trend toward totalitarianism. . . . It is in this sense that the subject of this book will always remain on the agenda, and that these pages are but a rough draft; for the subject of this book is human freedom, and its guardians, at all times and under all conditions, are the subversives.”

In his introduction to Paul Cronin’s 2014 biography, Be Sand, Not Oil: The Life and Work of Amos Vogel, Werner Herzog, a longtime friend of Vogel’s, writes, “We are, as a race, aware of certain dangers that surround us. We comprehend that global warming and overcrowding of the planet are real dangers for mankind. We have come to understand that the destruction of the environment is another enormous danger, that resources are being wasted at an extraordinary rate. But I believe that the lack of adequate imagery is a danger of the same magnitude.”

Before taking in any of the NYFF programs, be sure to watch Cronin’s lovely 2004 documentary Film as a Subversive Art: Amos Vogel and Cinema 16, about Vogel (and his ever-present smile), his beloved wife, Marcia, their life in Greenwich Village, and his devotion to cinema, which you can stream for free above. It does not lack for adequate imagery.