Reaction Shots

A fever dream born of trauma, dissolution, anger, hatred, and resentment fused with an emotional pitch on the order of Bergman’s “Scenes from a Marriage” and the dread of Cronenberg’s “The Brood” with a little of Lynch’s “Eraserhead” thrown in for good measure does nothing to prepare anyone for   Andrzej Zulawski‘s 1981 film “Possession.” I’ve waited years for this and have watched Metrograph’s 4K restoration twice already.   I’m genuinely at a loss. It’s one of the most searingly brilliant films I’ve ever seen with Isabelle Adjani’s performance holding the center. If I’m hesitant to say it is her greatest performance, it’s only because her range is so vast and she is so versatile. And yet, perhaps it is her best, in the same way Deniro’s Jake Lamotta in “Raging Bull” is often referred to as his greatest turn (or should we go with Travis Bickle?) In any case, “great” might be a less reprehensible word than “best” but the point is that what Adjani gave here is supreme. The analogy to B

Okay, I’m not so sure that “Paint” is the most Owen Wilsonish movie (“Pineapple Express”? Let me know what you think covers that base); but it does showcase his laconic, not slow-burn exactly, but deliberate approach to building a character. Wilson plays Carl Nargle, a Burlington, Vermont, Bob Ross type painter whose show on the local PBS affiliate is a local hit. We follow him as a local legend until he’s supplanted by Ambrosia Long, a young firebrand of a painter who paints two (!) paintings per half hour to Carl’s one covering a variety of motifs, and subjects (including a flying saucer deluging a forest path with blood). Played by Ciara Renée (Hawkgirl from “The Flash”!!!), Ambrosia is as open and whipsmart as anyone could ask for in terms of revitalizing moribund properties.  NOTE: “PBS” here is not an acronym for “Public Broadcasting Service”; the “Service” is replaced by “Syndicate”, but everything else is so reminiscent of local PBS programming, I almost expected Ana Gasteyer

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar. I’m so proud of you. This was a relatively fleet, zippy evening in which the underserved were for the most part, recognized, and where the cringiest moments weren’t the worst we’ve seen.   My original plan was to tap out some thought-form about the relevance or the reverse of the Academy Awards. This is number 95, and for much of the presentation’s existence during my lifetime, it’s been a night of overlong, self-importance, bloviation, embarrassment, and/or the occasional delightful or moving moment. That last is extremely rare. I’m going to fold that into a look at last night’s broadcast and probably not arrive at any earth-shattering conclusions. In fact, I may end up subverting my original tendency, which is to pretty much drag on the Academy for any number of reasons as well as suggest that maybe it’s time to downgrade the attention and airtime given them. One of the main reasons I grow wearier of the Oscars with each turning of the year is that, jeez, th