Light is a Steven Spielberg language, so it makes sense that a period piece about his coming of age is an emporium of incandescence: headlamps, projector bulbs, campfire, candles and one Hanukkah, a plea for Christmas lights. It makes sense, too, that Mitzi Fabelman - a version of Spielberg's mother - has married a guy who works for G.E. The actor playing her needs to summon acute luminescence. It's a showy part.
Michelle Williams has to summon unwavering affection, passionate discontent and ardent delight, and she has to do so in a performance that, in crucial moments, can't be conventionally expressed because it must be exposed.
Williams has to conjure motion and feeling - hands held and batted away; elation, inhibition and shame - that are imperceptible at the standard 24 frames per second but blinding at half that speed, gestures that reveal just as much in reverse as they do unspooling. It's an arduous trick of technique that Williams floods with natural light: dawns and sunsets that justify the way everybody orbits Mitzi. But Williams is acting the toll of all that brilliance - a private eclipse.
The above is excepted from The New York Times, "The 10 Best Actors of 2022" by Wesley Morris and A.O. Scott.
Laura Poitras' documentary ALL THE BEAUTY AND THE BLOODSHED is a gem, a deeply personal portrait of its primary subject, the photographer, visual artist and activist Nan Goldin (right). The movie traces Goldin's childhood in the nineteen sixties, to the start of her career on the Lower East Side, making photographs of friends and acquaintances, including queer and trans people, when such subjects were largely excluded from the official art world. She curated a 1989 show centered on the AIDS crisis, that became a flashpoint of right-wing acrimony.
Goldin, a survivor of addiction to OxyContin organized a group to hold the Sackler family - owners of Perdue Pharma - accountable, protesting their prominence in the art world. She emerges as both a crucial witness of her era and one of its prime movers. (Excerpted from The New Yorker) "I can't shake the feeling of being shook by it. I can't wait to see it again." -Rolling Stone