Tag Archives: Paul Schrader

Wildcat (2024)

Truth is stranger than fiction, right? Case in point: at last night’s screening of Wildcat at Boston’s Coolidge Corner Theatre, presented by Ethan Hawke and co-writer Shelby Gaines, a pair of nuns sat in the row next to us. It was a beautiful juxtaposition, the two prim devotees politely awaiting the film’s start as the college kids packing the rest of the house shouted at their friends to get them another beer. You can’t make this up — but if anyone could, it’d be Flannery O’Connor.

Wildcat stars Maya Hawke as the Southern Gothic writer, centered mostly on the tumultuous period of her mid-twenties in which she struggled to publish her first novel Wise Blood. During this time O’Connor is diagnosed with lupus, the disease that would eventually kill her, and she returns to her childhood home in rural Georgia to live with her mother Regina (Laura Linney). O’Connor’s life for the next twelve years was hardly cinematic — her daily routine consisted of going to mass and writing in the morning and then recuperating in the afternoon — and so it’s to Wildcat‘s benefit that writer/director Ethan Hawke and co-writer Shelby Gaines make two bold choices in structuring the film.

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Mass (2021)

There’s an intentional obscurity at the start of Mass, the debut feature from writer/director Fran Kranz, that instantly placed it amongst the most intriguing premieres at this year’s Sundance Film Festival. We open on a church in a suburban town, meeting the volunteers as they set up a room in the basement for an impending meeting. Much attention is paid to the placement of the table, the positioning of the chairs, the proximity of a tissue box. We meet a social worker, clearly acting in the capacity of a liaison, who asks that the tissue box not be placed in the middle of the table — that would be weird. As long as it’s within reach. This much we can glean about Mass, after a simple Times New Roman title fades in on a black screen over dead silence: we’ll probably need tissues. But we’re not sure why, exactly, and yet we’re gripped all the same. The social worker moves the chairs from their even placement around the table, putting two on one side and two on the other.

Mass is no less interesting once the purpose of this meeting is revealed, but it’s a particularly refreshing opening in an age where most films assume an audience will lose interest if they’re not given all the facts up front. Every glance and seemingly-negligible line of dialogue becomes a potential clue, and it never approaches a feeling of purposeful obscurity or frustration. Before we reach that point we finally put the pieces in place: two sets of parents are meeting six years after a tragic school shooting in which one son killed the other.

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Best of 2018

On New Year’s Day it’s customary to make a ritual sacrifice to the all-powerful List Gods, the extradimensional appetites of which demand that all things — like, say, the best (and worst) movies of 2018 — be ordered and numbered before the new year can commence. For some reason, the List Gods also demand that “Top Ten” items be ranked in reverse sequential order so that everyone has to read the whole damn article to see what came in first.

Editor’s note: in cooperation with scary net neutrality stuff, Motion State’s Top Ten this year was subject to audit and review before publication to ensure that none of this news is deemed fake. As such, the views expressed in this commentary are actually 100% correct, factually speaking. These ones are just the best.

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