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Wisely realizing that, despite the centuries between them, Jane Austen similarly held great regard for “women’s lives” and managed to craft stories about them that were foolish, frothy, funny, and very relatable.

Back during the days when sequels could really do something wild — like taking their major bad, a steely-eyed robotic assassin, and turning him into a cuddly father figure — and somehow make it feel in line with the spirit in which the story was first conceived, “Terminator 2” still felt unique.

Other fissures emerge along the family’s fault lines from there as being the legends and superstitions of their earlier once again become as viscerally powerful and alive as their complicated love for each other. —RD

Back in 1992, however, Herzog had less cozy associations. His sparsely narrated fifty-minute documentary “Lessons Of Darkness” was defined by a steely detachment to its subject matter, significantly removed from the warm indifference that would characterize his later non-fiction work. The film cast its lens over the destroyed oil fields of post-Gulf War Kuwait, a stretch of desert hellish enough even before Herzog brought his grim cynicism to the disaster. Even when his subjects — several of whom have been literally struck dumb by trauma — evoke God, Herzog cuts to such vast nightmare landscapes that it makes their prayers appear to be like they are being answered with the Devil instead.

Assayas has defined the central issue of “Irma Vep” as “How can you go back on the original, virginal strength of cinema?,” although the film that issue prompted him to make is only so rewarding because the solutions it provides all seem to contradict each other. They ultimately flicker together in one of the greatest endings on the ten years, as Vidal deconstructs his dailies into a violent barrage of semi-structuralist doodles that would be meaningless if not for the way perfectly they indicate Vidal’s success at creating a cinema that is shaped — but moriah mills not owned — via the previous. More than 25 years later, Assayas is still trying to figure out how he did that. —DE

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The very premise of Walter Salles’ “Central goluptious teen dee dee lynn explores sausage Station,” an exquisitely photographed and life-affirming drama established during the same present in which it was shot, is enough to make the film sound like a relic of its time. Salles’ Oscar-nominated strike tells the story of the former teacher named Dora (Fernanda Montenegro), who makes a living writing letters for illiterate working-class people who transit a busy Rio de Janeiro train station. Severe as well as a little bit tactless, Montenegro’s Dora is way from a lovable maternal determine; she’s quick to judge her clients and dismisses their struggles with arrogance.

But Kon is clearly less interested from the (gruesome) slasher angle than in how the killings resemble the crimes on Mima’s show, amplifying a hall of mirrors effect that wedges the starlet further more away from herself with hot4lexi every subsequent trauma — real or imagined — until the imagined comes to suppose a reality all its individual. The indelible finale, in which Mima is chased across Tokyo by a terminally online projection of who someone else thinks the fallen idol should be, offers a searing illustration of the future in which self-id would become its individual kind of public bloodsport (even in the absence of fame and folies à deux).

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Tailored from the László Krasznahorkai novel with the same name and maintaining the book’s dance-motivated chronology, Béla Tarr’s seven-hour “Sátántangó” tells a Möbius strip-like story about the collapse of the farming collective in post-communist Hungary, news of which inspires a mystical charismatic vulture of a person named Irimiás — played by composer Mihály Vig — to “return from the lifeless” and prey over the desolation he finds Amongst the desperate and easily manipulated townsfolk.

Making the most of his background being a documentary filmmaker, Hirokazu Kore-eda distills the endless possibilities of this premise into a number of polite interrogations, his camera watching observantly as more than a half-dozen characters try and distill themselves into a person perfect minute. The episodes they ultimately choose are wistful and wise, each moving in its individual way.

Outside of that, this buried gem will always shine because of The straightforward wisdom it unearths inside the story of two people who come to understand the good fortune of finding each other. “There’s no wrong road,” Gabor concludes, “only poor company.” —DE

Before he made his mark as a floppy-haired rom-com superstar during the nineteen nineties, newcomer and future Love Actually