Sunday, 26 October 2025

The Current Cinema and soon streaming on MUBI - Unimpressed by THE MASTERMIND (Kelly Reichardt, USA, 2025


I guess it’s the disconnect…  “You will be the only person in Australia watching that film tonight” said the rueful cinema proprietor when I mentioned I planned to see Kelly Reichardt’s The Mastermind  that night. Not true. There were six others scattered round the Ritz’s luxurious basement room Cinema 9 at the 6.00 pm session. Still you wouldn’t need many fingers to count the national theatrical box office gross apparently.

Reichardt is a bit of a favourite. Gentle, thoughtful storytelling which on occasions, like Wendy and Lucy,  had me choking up. Certain Women  and Night Moves were among the best of the year. Reichardt did do a fine revisionist western, Meek's Cutoff so there was plenty to hope that The Mastermind  would be an artful attempt to take on a perennially popular genre, turn it on its head and make a movie that had people chortling at its riffs.  Its public trajectory is straight from the competition at Cannes, via the SFF and MIFF (where I’m guessing it cleaned up), a few days in cinemas before it goes to MUBI. That's becoming a well-worn path not just with MUBI but every streaming service trying to get some award kudos. (At least three of the trailers at the Ritz before the movie started had the Netflix logo.)

The Mastermind takes more than a while to give us the whole story of James, a dad looking after his kids, full of ambition, endlessly and secretly borrowing money from his mother and relying on his spouse to keep the family housed and fed via her job in an office. His father is a high-achieving local judge who is constantly on his case about getting real work. 

So for reasons not explained until late in the movie, James enlists the help of three acquaintances in a scheme to rob, in broad daylight, the local art museum of four paintings by a minor artist. (Minor to the extent that I doubt many in the audience will have heard of him.) We are a long way away from Rififi, Ocean’s Eleven, Touchez-pas au Grisbi or The Red Circle. It’s a  world surrounding an incompetent amateur. It has to be set in the 70s because otherwise with today’s CCTV, alarm systems, number plate and facial recognition, the thieves wouldn’t have made it out of the building let alone the neighbourhood.  So the title is ironic. Watching the movie a day or so after a gang, displaying nil levels of violence, certainly even less than on display in this movie, lifted 100million Euros worth of jewellery from the Louvre, a comparison was obvious.

But of course Reichardt isn’t interested in the mechanics of the heist movie. James is quickly identified and the second half of the movie has him on the run, using friends, abandoning his family and, at a somewhat glacial pace and without a plan, eventually trying to flee the country until…ironic ending…of course.

The 70s intrude via the ridiculous cars that Americans designed and drove at that time and the occasional intrusion of some black and white TV footage involving the Vietnam war, Nixon and others.

Does James,as parents used to say, wake up to himself…hard to say… does the movie seem to dabble in longueurs and fitful moments…you bet.

Still, having seen it I sat down and read six pages (six, count ‘em…not including the full page ad with quotes like “Dazzling. A new American gem enlivened by the spirit of 70s cinema” What are they talking about???). The enthusiasm and seriousness was palpable across an interview, a background piece and a full page review. There was also a short endorsement by the editor-in-chief himself. “This is Reichardt’s second look into the art world, following the largely (and criminally) ignored Showing Up (2022), and is up there with her own masterpieces.” 

Didn’t see that… but is it ‘criminal’ to ignore a movie?  

Thursday, 23 October 2025

Streaming on Netflix - Rod Bishop recommends SHE WALKS IN DARKNESS (Agustín Díaz Yanes, Spain, 2025)

Susana Abaitua as Amelia

It’s the 1990s and the Basque separatist group ETA is in full swing. 

Operatives brazenly assassinate politicians, academics, police and high-ranking military by simply walking up and shooting them in the head. On busy streets, in cars, and crowded restaurants in broad daylight, location doesn’t seem to matter. Or they just blow things up.

ETA (Euskadi Ta Askatasuna or Basque Fatherland and Freedom) forms the backdrop for writer-director Agustín Díaz Yanes and his restrained, but always gripping and tense spy story.

Yanes inserts a fictional plot into this Spanish history with an undercover mole planted inside the ETA to discover the location of the group’s stash of weapons. 

(Andrés Getrúdix as the handler, Susana Abaitua as Amelia, She Walks in Darkness)

Recruited to infiltrate the group, Amelia (Susana Abaitua) is a member of the Spanish Civil Guard and a Basque language speaker. She stays undercover for many years.

Her new ‘legend’ includes a comatose ‘mother’ in a care facility; her handler is the Spanish cop Castro (Andrés Getrúdix); and her tradecraft involves communicating through Italian pop songs and switching garbage bags. She is planted as a teacher in a Basque high school, run by Begoña (Iraia Elias), a clandestine ETA leader whose husband is in jail on terrorist charges.

In its life span as a violent terrorist group (1968 to 2010), ETA killed over 800 including 340 civilians, and injured another 2,200. In more than 2000 attacks, the group carried out over 500 bombings, 456 shootings and 66 kidnappings (32 of whom were killed).

Yanes does seem more interested in espionage tradecraft than he is in ETA’s politics and we learn little about their motivations or why particular targets are picked. The copious use of newsreel footage from the time helps with authenticity, but it doesn’t provide much depth to our political comprehension.

And despite Amelia’s handler being accused of torturing ETA prisoners and being threatened with a trial, some commentators warn against being seduced by any film about the ETA seen from the point-of-view of the police.  

It’s an austere slow-burner and, despite its faults, should satisfy most le Carré admirers.


Wednesday, 22 October 2025

On Blu-ray - David Hare survives a tornado to extol the pleasures of QUAI DES BRÛMES (Dir: Marcel Carné, Sc: Jacques Prévert, France, 1938)


We had been without power for nearly 48 hours since 130k plus winds tore through Wellington and the Wairarapa all through yesterday and last night. The first thing I experienced after so much natural chaos was a new 4K restoration of the 1938 classic Quai des Brûmes and it was suitably magnificent. 

Top screen is Canal’s lovely 2012 Blu-ray edition of the film , the third great collaboration of Carné and the grandaddy of Réalisme Poëtique, Jacques Prévert.

This was one of dozens of masterpieces released back then in the Canal Classiques range, all opening with a fabulous one minute montage of the greatest shots from French cinema, played to the irresistible zither theme from The Third Man, all in hi-def for the first time, and delivered in these superbly crafted cardboard containers which contained the disc, artwork and a booklet. Incredibly, they were all released commercially in Australia as well as the three major Canal markets, France, Germany and the UK.


Above new packaging of new 4K release

Now 23 years later StudioCanal has published a further cleanup to the original elements, prime and dupe. This is not actually my outright fave of the Prévert screenplays or indeed Carné. I am not always comfortable with the way the movie rides between its Gabin-on-the-lam trope, alternating with several other sub narratives and the safe haven of the bar where the denizens of “inquiétudes” take shelter, some of which becomes unnecessarily static. Meanwhile the deadly pretty boy poet, played by deadly real-life fascist Robert Le Vigan, spins his bottle of poisonous Céline-esque nihilism to rub salt into the rest of the cast’s wounds. Vigan in real life consorted with the Vichy filth and decamped to Argentina after the war.

Robert Le Vigan, Quai des Brûmes


Sunday, 19 October 2025

On DVD - Knocked over by Charles Williams INSIDE (Australia, 2024)

Charles Williams

Clearly  I wasn't paying attention. After I watched a DVD copy of Charles Williams Inside (copy on DVD passed to me by a friend) I went back to Wikipedia to discover that Williams grew up in country Victoria. At the age of 19, he made his first short film I Can’t Get Started, which won the Best Director award at Tropfest.  He went on to write and direct the short films The Cow Thief Home and All These Creatures.  The last named screened at over 180 international film festivals and went on to win more than 60 international awards including the AACTA  Award for Best Short Film.

Six years later Charles Williams made Inside,  a rather extraordinary prison drama which for starters makes you wonder how he managed to write a script of such complete authenticity. Presumably he didn't spend any of the time between his Palme d'Or and his feature debut cooling his heels in some slammer somewhere.

Whatever the explanation, beyond the usual indifference of Australia's film funding bodies towards supporting talent in a way that allows them to get on with making their movies, Charles Williams has given us what might be the best debut feature in who knows how long. 

Warren (Guy Pearce), Mel (Vincent Miller), Inside

He may have got the bit of luck he needed when Guy Pearce agreed to be in the movie and play Warren Murfett, a wilfully disturbing character, prone to inexplicable violence and, as his parole approaches after a lengthy sentence, utterly fearful of returning to a 'normal' world where he knows or fears that his first steps are likely to be towards a resumption of his addictions. 
The saddest scene in the movie is the quite long sequence when Warren, on his first day release visits his son and  (spoiler alert), the son takes cold revenge on a father who neglected him for decades.  

There is some other brilliant casting as well. Cosmo Jarvis as a murderer and long term inmate who has got religion and starts conducting services for his fellow prisoners. It's a performance that requires a lot of acting smarts, or technique I guess, and again it's a character on the edge. Also on the edge is the young Mel, who killed another kid at age 12 and is still in the prison system a decade later. 

Mark (Cosmo Jarvis), Inside

It's tough stuff and to be frank hardly likely to be Saturday night entertainment. But ....really gripping and the movie of someone who should be of those few whom the funding bodies should be hurling money at so they keep working at a clip and not wait another six years to go round again.

Tuesday, 14 October 2025

Sixty Years of Art Cinema 1960-2020 : Bruce Hodsdon continues his series - Latin America - 6 (49) Brazil - Part 2 - Phases of Cinema Novo: Part 2: de Andrade, Diegues, Guerra

Rui Guerra


Ruy (Rui) Guerra directed 14 features,1962-2018, four in Brazil, the balance in Portugal, France, Mozambique and Mexico. He was born in Mozambique, studied at IDHEC in Paris 1952-4, and worked as an assistant director in France for several years. He shot his first feature Os Cafajestes/The Hustlers in Brazil in 1962, helping to initiate the Cinema Novo. He placed himself on the outside of the group with his uncompromising views about not abandoning a critical view of society for commercial success and saw state funding as a form of co-option.

In The Hustlers Guerra mixes fiction and documentary in focusing on the country's moral rather than economic underdevelopment in an implicit criticism of capitalism - lives lived on the margins without meaning beyond basic survival yet integrated into the system. It  was initially banned as immoral and repugnant. The characters sole goal of money is constantly frustrated. The deployment of the camera,  and image discontinuities between sound and image, often emphasises the distance between the characters and the reality surrounding them. Randal Johnson comments that while other Novo films in urban settings show the direct influence of Italian neo-realism and occasionally Eisenstein, Guerra's critique is “more subtle and indirect, his editing more akin to that of the nouvelle vague in experimenting with the use of time and space in a more formalist manner. “While Joaquim de Andrade, for example, has said that ideology is more important than form, Ruy Guerra's films suggest that only through proper form can ideology be properly transmitted.” (99)


In 
Os Fuzis/The Guns (1964) Guerra relocated the urban story set in Rio in The Hustlers, to the underdeveloped Brazilian northeast. It was originally to be filmed in Greece about a Greek village threatened by a pack of starving wolves. A detachment of soldiers is sent to defend the villagers and the conflict arises between them and the peasants. Guerra transformed this story into what Johnson calls “one of the most powerful political films ever made” that has been compared to Eisenstein's October and Rosi's Salvatore Guiliano, (99) “two of the very few films,” Michel Ciment identifies, “which apply a truly Marxist attitude to reality ” (100).  In The Guns the starving wolves are replaced by peasants starving in a time of drought and the soldiers' mission is not so much to protect the local population but to protect a wealthy landowner's food warehouse. Guerra also took the less obvious option of centring the conflict within the detachment of soldiers sent at the request of the local mayor, a landowner, as the story develops, which comes to serve a repressive mediating function between the peasants and the powerful, two antagonistic competing blocks. To this, Guerra added the element of mysticism.

Johnson points to a cogent article by Brazilian critic Roberto Schwarz who noted that the film itself divides into “two incompatible films.” On one hand there is a documentary of drought and poverty showing the fatalism, immobility, and passivity of the peasants waiting for rain and worshipping a holy ox led by one of the bearded prophets who travel the northeast, to be seen but not understood in psychological terms. On the other hand, the soldiers, in their mobility, complexity, and psychological depth, represent a more modern society. The documentary sequences concern and use as actors, the local population and the drought victims; the fictional sequences use actors in assumed roles. A rupture in style thus exists between the two blocks. As Schwarz observes, “the actors are to the non-actors, as the city-dwellers [the soldiers] with their technical civilisation, are to the evacuees [the peasants], as possibility is to predetermined misery, as plot is to inertia.”

Johnson takes up these perceptions to further show the virtual blockade of non-comprehension existing between the two groups since they come from two different worlds. In the eyes of the peasants the soldiers must seem like mythical figures who, with their technology see themselves as superior to the peasants, to them are no more than an amorphous mass. This is exemplified on a personal level in a love-hate relationship which develops between one of the soldiers, Mario, and a local woman, Luisa. Through the relationship Mario does come to understand his contradictory roles as a soldier and individual. Johnson concludes that “the de-centring of the dramatic focus from the peasants and their situation to the various levels of authority seems on the surface to reflect the populist vision of early Cinema Novo films, in which solutions come not from the people, but rather from enlightened sections of the ruling classes. The Guns is a critical, dialectical vision, not a populist one of the reality it depicts, “an anti-militarist film par excellence, [in which] Guerra distinguishes between the army as an institution and the individual soldiers who constitute it.” (100)

Guerra has explained that there are no good guys and bad guys in his films because he believes “that moral values are not to be located narrowly at the individual level, but at the level of class morality […] In The Guns if you belong to a class of shopkeepers, whatever you do you are a bad guy for the peasant; your behaviour cannot be judged outside the class to which you belong.” (quoted ibid 101).  This is not to deny that change is possible on the level of individual consciousness (the example of Mario cited above), also played out in the case of Gaucho the lorry driver, a former soldier who is killed attempting to mediate.

On a formal level Guerra uses various cinematic modes in a dialectical narrative rejecting a conventional dramatic structure in which everything contributes to moving the plot forward. Ciment concurs: “Guerra stands aside, letting a network of meanings gradually rise to the surface […] a progressive unveiling of the sense without anything being said, as it's up to the audience to construe the dialectic from the story. Duration is charged with all its real weight and the direction sometimes uses plans sequences [sequence shots] lasting four or five minutes. […] The muffled build-up of the violence, the quick bursts of action, are authenticated by what psychologists have to say about the effects of starvation. Phases of elation follow periods of apathy and depression.” (100-1)

Joaquim Pedro de Andrade

Joaquim Pedro de Andrade 
(1932-88), described by Randal Johnson as “a poet in the guise of filmmaker,” made 5 features and 6 documentaries, 1959-82. Johnson notes that whether dealing with the impossible love of a priest in a small country town (O Padre e a Moca/The Priest and the Girl, '65), national myths (Macunaima ’ 69), Brazilian history (Os Inconfidentes/The Conspirators 71), or with sexual mores (Guerra Conjugal/Conjugal Warfare 75, Vereda Tropical/Tropical Paths 77), in which he maintains  “a consistently coherent critical perspective through several different cinematic styles.”

Macunaima was the culmination of the first three phases of Cinema Novo. Its release in 1969 coincided with the ramping up of repression by the military-controlled government and it was, Johnson suggests, “perhaps the first Cinema Novo film to be formally innovative, politically radical, and immensely popular with the Brazilian public.” It is colourful, zany and fast moving, elevates bad taste to an aesthetic level, seems to ignore the limits of the frame and creates what de Andrade called a film without style with a popular black comedian Paulo José playing the hero, in contradiction, as both a passive and exuberant free spirit. (Johnson 25)

The film is adapted from Mario de Andrade's (not related to the director) modernist novel of the same name written in 1926 and published in 1928 “as a rhapsody (in the musical sense), that is, free fantasy ‘of an epic, heroic or national character’, the author [orchestrating]  a combination of heterogeneous elements to create what has been called a compendium of Brazilian folklore […]  through which the author attempts to synthesise Brazil.  Although the base narrative structure of the novel is retained ”the film adaptation is not merely an attempt to express the ideas of the 1928 work in a different medium but is a critical reinterpretation and an ideological radicalisation of Mario de Andrade's rhapsody, recast in terms of the social, economic, and political realities of the late 1960s.” (ibid 27)  Molotnik notes that “Terra em Transe and Macunaima couch their political messages in indirect forms: Rocha in violent allegory, Andrade in stylised, sometimes wacky satire.” The latter amounts to a bizarrely original, if unmistakable, critical stance, at least to Brazilian audiences, against repressive military rule and Brazil's state of unbalanced development.

Macunaima

The director’s basic strategy in the adaptation is to simplify and condense the book’s narrative and to make concrete its magical and fantastic elements. The film develops a critical relationship with the novel. It renders explicit what is implicit in the original and radicalises many latent political aspects of the novel making the film relate more directly to modern Brazilian social, political and economic reality. Whereas the original satirises foreign influence and cultural dependence, de Andrade denounces cultural and economic imperialism transmitted through a sub-code or sub-text of cannibalism (ibid 30).

In the form of an allegorical fable, Macunaima is a melange of Brazilian myths- 'all that is left unsaid' in Brazilian history, 'politically incorrect' in terms of race and race relations (white, black and indigenous) in the story of a man born as a black, adult-sized baby in the Amazonian wilderness to an old masculine-looking white woman of the indigenous people. Macunaima's birth is one of many scenes that plays upon race, sex, and age.  He becomes a trickster and embarks on an picaresque odyssey to the city en route being permanently turned white by water from a 'magic spring'. He has a series of bizarre encounters in the city with a giant, cannibals and Cí, a female guerilla-killer with whom he fathers a black child although both are white. The central character, Macunaima, is sexually, politically, lazily, passive, Ci is always the aggressor, both sexually, and in making war on others, like housewives go shopping, in a reversal of conventional male-female roles. He only reacts strongly when Cí blows herself and their black baby up with an ill-timed bomb.  

The narrative space of Macunaima is “one of incongruity, discontinuity, and non sequitur.“ (Johnson 29). Sexuality, urban violence, financial empire-building and capitalist development are all satirised. “incorporated by consumer society and co-opted by American cultural domination.” Macunaima pursues the magic stone, all that survives of Cí. An Olympic size swimming pool full of piranhas consumes the villainous giant Pietro Pietra after Macunaima shoots an arrow in his back. Molotnik suggests that a Brazilian audience, even without knowledge of the literary source, would have picked-up Pietro as a spoof of the immigrant Italian industrialists who “modernised” southern Brazil. Nor would they have missed the implications of the urban guerilla sequence which allows viewers to participate imaginatively in the shooting up of the forces of repression, at least until Cí meets her untimely end. The film ends with our unlikely “passive” hero of both good and evil, himself being consumed by piranhas.

In order to try and secure the film's wide release de Andrade had to play by the rules insofar as he coded the messages in highly farcical forms while capitalising on the respectability of the literary source to try and proof it against censorship generated by protest from an activist section of the middle classes. Molotnik points out that the extent of the success of Macunaimablew up the idea that social criticism, to be widely understood, must be confined to a realist aesthetic.

Cannibalism in Brazilian cultural terms was inspired by the modernist movement in the 20s as a nationalist strategy of anti-imperialism in which culture from the first world should be devoured, digested and recycled according to local needs. Cannibalism was described by Joaquin de Andrade as “an exemplary mode of consumption for underdeveloped peoples.” Another Cannibalist film is Peireiria de Santos's How Tasty was My Little Frenchman (1971)

Following the popular tropicalist films, Cinema Novo entered into “a politically engendered crisis of creativity” in 1971-2. As censorship and repression worsened, Glauber Rocha, Ruy Guerra and Carlos Diegues left Brazil for Europe. As funding became more problematic, several directors entered into co-production arrangements with other countries or financed their projects completely abroad.  Brazilian cinema as a whole prospered through the “economic miracle” years 1967-73 which ultimately weakened the military dictatorship while resulting in “a brutal transference of wealth from the bottom to the top.”

Carlos Diegues 

Carlos Diegues 
(1940-2025) directed 17 features and a number of documentaries, 1963-2018. Of all the Cinema Novo directors, Johnson regards Diegues “as perhaps the most intensely personal in his approach to filmmaking.” Johnson also nominates Diegues as one of the major theoreticians of Cinema Novo (52-3). One of the first to define the movement, he was also one of the first to protest its mythification and also the first “to declare it moribund.” He emphasised that new Brazilian cinema was a socially committed cinema but with the individuality of each film and filmmaker being defended. He emphasised that Cinema Novo “was not a schoolit has no established style” (ibid).

Freedom for Diegues extended beyond freedom of expression for the auteur, to become one of the major thematic threads running through his films. Freedom from slavery in Ganga Zumba (1963), confirmed the existence of a new Brazilian cinema, and in his sixth feature,Xica da Silva (1976), the story tends to a utopian mode of love of freedom in the form of “an ode to the creativity to the Brazilian people […} a colourful, noisy, playful celebration of a little known historical figure.” The spirit, the director suggests, transcends any specific political situation […] evoking political struggle by opposing the [racist] stodginess of alien European culture and the vitality of Brazilian popular culture (ibid 75, 80).

A Grande Cicade/The Big City (1966) described by Johnson, like Ganga Zumba, as “an urban fable,” working toward an almost mythological freedom from economic marginalisation in an anti-realistic mosaic structure continuing and deepening that of the earlier film. Freedom from foreign domination and neocolonialism in Joana Francesco (1974) and Bye Bye Brasil (1979), transmutes to freedom to love regardless of age in Chuvas de Verão/Summer Showers (1978).

Diegues' special concern with the relationship between film and viewer, how a film is perceived and understood  - he criticised the didactic posture of early Cinema Novo. This led him to experiment with different styles and modes of discourse ranging from the slow, deliberate realism in the fable form of Ganga Zumba (1963) to the anti-realism of The Big City ; the carnivalesque exuberance of Xica da Silva to non-linear Brechtian-influenced dramatic structure in Os Herdeiros/The Heirs (1968), intended as a mural of Brazilian political and cultural history from 1930-64, seen through the trajectory of a single, bourgeois family; and a major step forward to musical comedy in Quando o Carnival Chegar/When Carnival Comes (1972), from the political didacticism of Quando de samba, Alegria de Viva/Samba School, Joy of Living (1962).

Bye Bye Brasil

Johnson suggests that another central theme of Diegues' films - “a director in search of a style” - might be considered that of Brazilian cinema itself.”  The “Hollywoodian” 
Bye Bye Brasil (1980), the first Brazilian feature to be commercially released in the United States, is dedicatedto Brazilians’ past, present and “perhaps the future,” as seen through the travels of a small-time circus troupe, a form of spectacle becoming less and less viable.  Diegues’ cinema had evolved “from the relative “poverty” of Ganga Zumba to the relative “luxury” of Bye Bye Brasil, from the “esthetic of hunger” to a more commercially oriented and communicative esthetic of artistic pluralism.” Johnson adds that   “(figuratively) run out of town by critics, Carlos Dieges [knew] that the only choice was to go forward in search of the artist’s utopia” (90).

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Robert Stam, “Third World and Postcolonial Cinema” The Cinema Book  Cook & Bernink eds. pp. 120-9 

Robert Stam, “Land in Anguish: Revolutionary Lessons” Jump Cut 10/11 1976  

Robert Stam, Randal Johnson, Brazilian Cinema 1982 ; “Beyond Cinema Novo” Jump Cut  Nov. 1979                                                                                                                                                     

Malcolm Coad, “Last Tangoes” Latin American Cinema in the 50s & 60s. ibid. pp.155-7                                                  

Michael Chanan, “New Cinemas in Latin America” Oxford History World Cinema ed. Nowell-Smith 1996                                                 

Geoffrey Nowell-Smith, “Latin America” Making Waves:New Cinema of the 1960s 2008                                                  

Michel Ciment, “Glauber Rocha” “Ruy Guerra” Second Wave ed. Ian Cameron 1970                                                

J.R.Molotnik, “Macunáimá” Jump Cut 12/13 197                                                                                                                

Gordon Hitchens, “ A Conversation with Glauber Rocha”  Film Quarterly Fall 1970                                                         

Randal Johnson Cinema Novo x 5  1984 essays on de Andrade, Diegues, Guerra, Rocha, dos Santos 

Julianne Burton  Cinema and Social Change in Latin America: Conversations with Filmmakers 1986 

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Previous entries in this series can be found if you click the following links

 

Sixty Years of International Art Cinema: 1960-2020 - Tables and Directors Lists to Accompany Bruce Hodsdon's Series

 

Notes on canons, methods, national cinemas and more

 

Part One - Introduction

Part Two - Defining Art Cinema

Part Three - From Classicism to Modernism

Part Four - Authorship and Narrative

Part Five - International Film Guide Directors of the Year, The Sight and Sound World Poll, Art-Horror

Part Six (1) - The Sixties, the United States and Orson Welles

Part Six (2) - Hitchcock, Romero and Art Horror

Part Six (3) - New York Film-makers - Elia Kazan & Shirley Clarke  

Part Six (4) - New York Film-makers - Stanley Kubrick Creator of Forms

Part Six (5) ‘New Hollywood’ (1) - Arthur Penn, Warren Beatty, Pauline Kael and BONNIE AND CLYDE

Part Six (6) Francis Ford Coppola: Standing at the crossroads of art and industry

Part 6(7) Altman

6(8) Great Britain - Joseph Losey, Lindsay Anderson, Karel Reisz, Richard Lester, Peter Watkins, Barney Platts-Mills

6(9) France - Part One The New Wave and The Cahiers du Cinema Group

6(10) France - Part Two - The Left Bank/Rive Gauche Group and an Independent

6(11) France - Part Three - Young Godard

6(12) France - Part Four - Godard:Visionary and Rebel

6 (13) France Part 5 Godard with Gorin, Miéville : Searching for an activist voice

6(14) France Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Bresson 

6 (15) France Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Jacques Tati

6 (16) - Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Carl Th Dreyer

6 (17) - Italy and Luchino Visconti

6(18 - Italy and Roberto Rossellini - Part One

6(19) - Rossellini, INDIA and the new Historical realism

6(20) - Rossellini in Australia

6 (21) - Italy - Michelangelo Antonioni

6 (22) - Italy - Federico Fellini, Ermanno Olmi

6 (23) - Italy - Pasolini, Rosi

6 (24) - Interregnum - Director/Auteur/Autoren

6 (25) West Germany

6 (26) - Alexander Kluge Part One

6 (27) - Alexander Kluge Part Two

6 (28) - The Young German Cinema: Reitz, Schlondorff, von Trotta

6(29 ) West German Cinema - Fassbinder

6 (30) West German Cinema - Straub & Huillet

6(31) - New Spanish Cinema

6 (32) - Bunuel in the 60s

6 (33) Nordic Cinemas - Bergman and Widerberg

6 (34) - Scandinavia - Sjoman, Zetterling, Troell

6 (35) - East Germany - Konrad Wolf, Frank Beyer

6 (36) - East Central Europe - Poland

6(37) - East Central Europe - Hungary Part One

6 (38) East Central Europe - Miklos Jancso

6 (39) East Central Europe - Czechoslovakia

6 (40) East Central Europe - Yugoslavia

6 (41) - The Soviet Union

6 (42) - Asia - Japan - Part One

6 (43) - Japan - Part Two

6 (44) - Japan - Part Three - Shohei Imamura

6 (45) Asia - India Pt 1 - Satyajit Ray

6 (46) Asia - India Pt 2- Ghatak, Dutt, Sen, Parallel Cinema

Asia - 6 (47) China  (To be published shortly)

6 (48) - Brazil Pt 1- Cinema Novo, dos Santos, Rocha