Viet and Nam is a visual proverb more than it is a narrative. For a film that so boldly claims itself with the name of our country — splits it in two — I find that it doesn’t make sense any other way. The poetry of Vietnam (and subsequently) Viet and Nam, lies within the faces of its land and people. It’s the eternal grief that presents itself in a search which tells us what it is to be Vietnamese. To make a narrative out of such an experience is to force a need for closure that is antithetical.

Most films, due to the sheer brevity of their runtime, fail to capture the grief of death, what it means to be perpetually reminded of the absence of someone who is no longer there. The depiction of grief is difficult, in that it often clashes with narrative momentum, so then how does Ross show death in a medium where death itself is so meaningless?

The exploration of the women of the mizu shobai allowed directors not only to make radical statements condemning the patriarchal structure of Japan, but also to create truly humanist depictions of neglected women, women whose stories were rarely seen by the eyes of the West or even in Japan. 

Tarr’s patient, almost grotesque framing of this world isn't just about stasis; it’s about the existential paralysis that characterizes a civilization on the brink of meaninglessness. It is an exploration of the vacuity at the heart of contemporary existence, an inquiry into how history, personal and collective, can spiral into ungovernable forces, from which there seems no escape.

Tucked within the delightful mayhem of Howard Hawks' 1938 screwball comedy Bringing Up Baby is a scene so absurd it feels like pure magic. Susan Vance (Katharine Hepburn) and David Huxley (Cary Grant) stand side by side, a scrappy little dog named George squirming between them as they belt out “I Can't Give You Anything But Love, Baby.” Their audience? None other than Baby, a full-grown leopard on the loose, who happens to be perched on a nearby roof. 

Two young women move into their first apartment. The so-called ‘home’ is incomplete and bare. They meticulously place their new lives on brick walls and empty shelves, and learn more about each other through the hair left in the shower drain and messy dishes that lie in the sink. But, they know this won’t last forever; the apartment, like their friendship, is a temporary construction, an experiment in shared intimacy that will either solidify or collapse under the weight of time and circumstance. 

In this film, time does, in fact, stop through its use of stillness and constant subversion of our sense of time. Jessica and Hernán are constantly experiencing the past. Past exists within the future, and vice versa, creating the effect of an all-time singularity in which all things exist at once.

I took my seat in the front row of the Walter Reade theater at Lincoln Center to watch Anora in 35mm. I had a bucket of popcorn to the right of me, in my friend Lemo’s lap, as we broke our necks looking upwards at the screen for the film’s two-and-a-half hour runtime. I wish she had a paper bag, one for me to vomit my emotions into, or to hold and bag my tears in. 

In this journal, I will be exploring seven films that to me, challenged the 'hysterical woman' trope by presenting more authentic and nuanced representations of women grappling with mental health issues. 

Outside of movies, teenagers find solace in their bedrooms. Sometimes closing the door, laying on a mattress and thinking about growing up is exactly what we all need. What beats listening to your favorite artist while painting your nails in your (slightly) messy room? 

Whether donning her signature ensemble of jeans and a white tee, or awing audiences with her cut-off crochet mini, Jane Birkin's casual yet captivating allure has made a serious mark on the world of fashion.

Loose-fit jeans. Pastel polos. Striped button-downs. Navy quarter zips. Its sultry, preppy and evocative nature is attracting audiences from all corners to gaze at Zendaya, Mike Faist, and Josh O'Connor's sweltering on-camera chemistry, and exceptional performances on and off the court. 

In film terminology, the word 'favorite' can mean anything. I've grown to have hundreds of favorite films for completely different reasons. In today's journal, I'll be explaining my current four favorite films, and why I love them, each for different reasons. 

As May comes to an end, here are some films that I'll be watching (and rewatching) to get me in my ideal summer headspace. Make sure to stay tuned for film analyses about the films that follow. Happy watching!

The history of queer cinema is rich and diverse, spanning from early representations in silent films to the groundbreaking works of the New Queer Cinema movement in the 1990s, and beyond. In this journal, I'd like to take a look at nine movies that, to me, perfectly encapsulate the themes the community fights for, and what they represent. 

My high school experience was nothing like the movies, but it's not like I ever compared the two to each other. Nevertheless, I did look to movies first to correctly grasp the concept of graduating. In this journal, I've compiled a list of seven films that to me, perfectly encapsulate the essence of high school. Coming from a larger list of movies I made myself watch before I turn the tassel, this handful is my favorite.