Jafar Panahi's "It Was Just an Accident" Reminds Us to Weaponize Our Laughter

It Was Just an Accident, Photograph courtesy NEON

text by Hank Manning

Jafar Panahi doesn’t have to look far to find inspiration for his films. He often portrays a fictionalized version of himself, a filmmaker speaking truth to power. In real life, Iranian authorities have twice imprisoned him, first for making “anti-regime” films and then for inquiring about the condition of another imprisoned filmmaker. He was released the second time after engaging in a 48-hour hunger strike, but continues to face restrictions on his travel and filmmaking. 

Although he does not appear onscreen in It Was Just an Accident, which won the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, it may be Panahi’s most personal film yet. His first feature made after his second imprisonment, he shot it clandestinely with a small crew in Tehran to avoid having to work with state censors. The resulting long takes and often close quarters give the film something of a documentary, true-to-life feel. The characters’ backstories, motivations, and fantasies were inspired by his own stay in prison—although he says he did not personally suffer physical torture—and conversations with fellow prisoners.

One night at his repair shop, auto mechanic Vahid hears a sound that has haunted him for years: the high-pitched squeak of an improperly attached prosthetic leg. It belongs to Eghbal, a prison guard who tortured him and other political prisoners. Vahid instinctively springs to action, trailing and then assaulting and kidnapping his former tormentor. But doubts arise—Vahid was blindfolded in prison, so he can’t be sure he has found the right person. He enlists other former prisoners to help him confirm. They likewise depend on secondary senses—smell and touch—to try to identify the man.

It Was Just an Accident, Photograph courtesy NEON

The members of Vahid’s ad hoc party—wedding photographer Shiva, her ex Hamid, bride Goli, and groom Ali (who was not a prisoner and is consequently the least passionate character)—use different strategies to navigate life in a brutal authoritarian country. Shiva initially hopes to forget the torture she endured and live quietly resigned inside the system. Goli, who faints when reminded of her imprisonment, persuades Shiva to at least pursue a confession and an apology. Hamid, filled with rage, demands ultimate vengeance: the immediate killing of his former tormentor. From the conflicts between the victims-turned-captors, we see the difficulties that ordinary people face in opposing authoritarianism. Unlike those inside the regime, who are either chosen for their lack of morals or carefully propagandized to not see the humanity of others, people outside the regime have a variety of morals and desired approaches. These large groups must balance demands for resignation, justice, and vengeance, making unified action more challenging.

Over time, these differences swell. Some passionate emotions subside into logical considerations. Vahid, who at first intended to bury Eghbal alive, becomes hesitant, especially when learning that Eghbal has an innocent wife and young daughter. The party must contend with the fact that their hostage is only one member of a large, oppressive system. They consider whether he can be blamed for following orders, no matter how cruel, or whether he is also a victim who had no choice but to do brutal work to support his family. Yet, if a man who commits violence against the innocent doesn’t bear responsibility for the regime, then who possibly could? But then again, even if he is guilty and deserving of the worst treatment, will enacting revenge do anything to help the group, if they can even get away with it?

The film is too honest to provide any easy answers. Individual viewers will likely align themselves more closely with one or another member of the group’s moral philosophy while simultaneously understanding the flaws in each. The film’s final shot unsettles every conclusion we’ve formed, leaving us to wonder if any sort of resistance could lead to a proper resolution.

It Was Just an Accident, Photograph courtesy NEON

The film inspires a surprising number of laughs. In particular, a running gag features Vahid paying bribes to security guards and nurses, demonstrating the way that corruption permeates all areas of society. We are reminded that no matter how horrifying authoritarian regimes are, they are also inevitably ridiculous. Since tyrants insist on being taken seriously, we cannot forget to weaponize our laughter.

Although clearly set in Iran, the key politics, such as the regime’s justifications for the prison sentences, are intentionally left generic enough so that audiences can easily imagine parallel scenarios developing under any authoritarian government. While the film does raise more questions than it answers, its one seemingly unavoidable conclusion is that authoritarianism, in any form, must not be allowed to take root. Even those who place themselves at the top of an oppressive hierarchy eventually meet their fate, as systems centered on ever-escalating violence quickly spiral out of control, consuming everyone within them.

Ibadan Raised, NYC Made: A Short Film By Nigerian Filmmaker CeoJay

Ibadan Raised, NYC Made is an immersive short film by CEOJAY, blending the filmmaker’s cultural roots in the city of Ibadan, Nigeria with the ambition of New York City. This soulful elegy takes us on a journey into the Yoruba culture, from the talking drums to the traditional attire. Described by CEOJAY as “a love letter to home,” the film is a display of identity and cultural pride. text by Lola Titilayo

From Giza to Memphis: Christelle Oyiri's "Dead God Flow" @ CANK Berlin

Christelle Oyiri
Hauntology of an OG, 2025
Video still
Courtesy of the artist, the LAS Art Foundation, Amant, and the Pinault Collection

text by Arlo Kremen
photography by Jacopo La Forgia
images by Christelle Oyiri and Neva Wireko

For Berlin Art Week, artist Christelle Oyiri teamed up with CEL, a freshly formed Black, female art collective, and Las Foundations to bring Berlin her first installation in the city at CANK in Neukölln, a retired 1950s mall turned event space. The exhibition shows alongside an event series by CEL called “Foundations.” One such event transformed the space into a nightclub of sorts, bringing several DJs to perform with Oyiri, who performs under the stage name Crystalmess, to headline. Unfortunately, Oyiri could not make it due to flight issues beyond her control, but its impact on the installation site remained palpable.

The installation sees CANK’s spacious second floor emptied. On one side, CEL projects a short film of their own; the other hosts two films of Oyiri’s, Hyperfate (2022) and Hauntology of an OG (2025). Between the two ends, darkness fills in the gap, with green and blue overhead fluorescents bleeding in and out to choral-like, electronic waves. Obscure darkness swells, not just with light, but also with something else, a numinous effect common to nightlife—a world in which, ideally, freedom is sovereign and individuals can collect into a symbiotic ecosystem, where, as Oyiri put it in an interview, music produces “unspoken connections.”

Christelle Oyiri
Dead God Flow, 2025
Courtesy of the artist, the LAS Art Foundation, Amant, and the Pinault Collection

Born and raised in the Paris region to Ivorian and Guadeloupean parents, Christelle Oyiri brings much of herself to her art practice. As an artist who occupies the nightlife world, she demonstrates great care for the poetics and politics of music and musicians, especially those of rap and rappers, the subject of her two films in Dead God Flow, where music brings her to look upon herself and her history in relation to these figures in Hyperfate and to adventure to Memphis, Tennessee, to look up close at one of southern rap’s capitals in Hauntology of an OG.

Hyperfate studies systems of power and surveillance within rap culture. Oyiri traces the culture’s relationship with death, noting how a rapper’s trajectory can significantly affect the probability of their death. The figure of the rapper, a sign of wealth and success, often becomes a target of envy and ridicule, particularly for rappers who come from gang-affiliated backgrounds. Such a dynamic only becomes exacerbated by constant self-surveillance online. It is through her reflection that Oyiri posits that the rap industry became so bloodied, thinking of rappers like Tupac, XXXTENTACION, Pop Smoke, and Takeoff as figures drawn to their premature deaths as prophecy, which is horrifically par for the course of their trade, dying by the same hand that gave them glory.

Oyiri ties in her own biography into the narrative, discussing her older brother’s path to winning the European championship inThai boxing and sharing footage of her childhood apartment building. Her filmed documentary footage, whether in Paris or driving around Pop Smoke’s neighborhood, Canarsie, Brooklyn, cuts between rappers’ IG lives and stories, images and videos of her and her family, and a supernova, grouping personal narrative with the historical to sublimate it. The question of prophetic deaths and material realities of racial capitalism becomes enlarged, cosmic questions with existentially urgent consequences.

Developed alongside photographer Veva Wireko in Memphis, Tennessee, and narrated by poet-rapper Darius Phatmak Clayton, Hauntology of an OG positions Memphis as a reference to ancient Egypt, with one pyramid serving as a parallel to the other. Oyiri understands the pyramid as a symbol of “death, continuity, and hierarchy,” looping the pyramid on the Mississippi River into a symbolic lineage that speaks directly to the contexts in which Memphis rap emerged—namely, the end of the futurity expressed by Martin Luther King Jr. after his death in 1968. Giving his last speech in Memphis, Oyiri sees the city’s rap culture as somewhat of an elegy to this snuffed-out dream. A since-past desire for an alternative future tormented by the vitriolic racism Black Americans endure, particularly in the poor, Bible Belt city of Memphis, where this past April, Clayborn Temple, a Black church community center and the historic organizing point for King Jr., was intentionally burned down. 

Christelle Oyiri
Hauntology of an OG, 2025
Courtesy of the artist, the LAS Art Foundation, Amant, and the Pinault Collection

The pyramid’s construction was completed in 1991 and was intended to serve as an entertainment venue for concerts and sports. However, today, the structure is a shopping center, housing the Bass Pro Shop megastore, among other commercial enterprises. Rather than a theological monument to a deceased pharaoh, Memphis’s pyramid memorializes and upholds the economic episteme that produced it, liberal capitalism; thus, Memphis rap produces a different monument, a sonic architecture dedicated to histories of struggle. The show’s title, Dead God Flow, refers to Nietzsche’s “God is Dead” concept, where Oyiri witnesses Nietzsche’s epistemic utterance in Memphis’s rappers, hearing in their flows a call for a new future.

Dead God Flow is presented by LAS Art Foundation and is on view through October 19 @ CANK, Karl-Marx-Straße 95, Berlin-Neukölln

Maybe Some Shows Aren't Meant To Be Revived: And Just Like That ... We're Free

A farewell to a show that once defined a generation’s voice on love, friendship, and selfhood—and a reckoning with the hollow echo of its revival.

Sarah Jessica Parker in And Just Like That, season 3
Courtesy of Warner Bros.

text by Kim Shveka

And Just Like That is finally ending after its third season, and as a die-hard fan of Sex and the City, I never imagined I would be so relieved to say goodbye to Carrie Bradshaw. SATC was aired alongside Will and Grace, Friends, and Felicity, yet, from its pilot, it stood apart as something more candid, vulnerable, and ambitious than the rest. It was a show dedicated to women that intimately portrayed sex, heartbreak, independence, friendship, and mistakes, striking a chord with a broad audience. Its four women were flawed, complex, honest, and achingly human. They were not written to be role models so much as mirrors, often provoking us to look inwards and consider the lessons within their innumerable blunders through life.

I first watched SATC at sixteen, and I’ve re-watched it annually, each time with new opinions, feelings, and resolutions. Like many fans, I grew up with the characters, initially adoring Carrie, later finding her insufferable, and ultimately loving her in spite of it all. Through her, I’ve learned to make peace with my imperfections and I wanted to see myself in each of the four women: adventurous and free like Samantha, compassionate and hopeful like Charlotte, grounded and independent like Miranda, human and magnetic like Carrie. Her charisma and glamour made her a favorite to many. Together, they balanced each other’s flaws, supported each other, and formed something larger than themselves.

The fashion in Sex and the City became as iconic as the women themselves, yet its brilliance was born from constraint. In the early seasons, with little budget for designer wardrobes, costume designer Patricia Field embraced resourcefulness, mixing thrift store treasures, vintage finds, and bold, unexpected pairings. The result was fashion that felt alive, intuitive, and deeply personal, with each woman’s style tailored perfectly to her written personality. Carrie’s life revolved around her love of fashion, her character intertwined with her eccentric choices, making her a definitive fashion icon. These clothes were not curated for brand partnerships or mass appeal; they were worn like declarations, each outfit an intentional extension of the women who wore them.

Kristin Davis, Sarah Jessica Parker, Cynthia Nixon in And Just Like That season 3
Courtesy of Warner Bros.

That resourcefulness carried the show until fashion itself became part of the plot. The turning point came with the now-iconic “baguette” episode, when Carrie was robbed of her Fendi baguette bag designed by Silvia Venturini Fendi, alongside her strappy Manolo Blahnik sandals. At the time, the bag was already the it-accessory, splashed across magazines and coveted by fashion girls everywhere, but Sex and the City gave it a cultural immortality that no ad campaign could touch. By then, fashion had already realized the power of fame, with supermodels becoming celebrities, and actors and musicians gracing the covers of every major fashion magazine. Still, it had not yet fully entered television and cinema as a narrative tool. Silvia Venturini stated that she loved the show, and the connection between the colorful baguette bag and Carrie’s personal style was only natural. By taking a risk on an unfamiliar marketing method and succeeding, she paved the way for many brands to follow. What began as intuitive, character-driven styling suddenly revealed fashion’s power as a storytelling tool, and brands quickly understood the value of being seen in Carrie’s world. From that moment, designers lined up to be part of the show, and television itself entered a new era of fashion collaboration. Carrie’s Dior saddlebag, Samantha’s pursuit of an Hermès Birkin, Charlotte’s Prada ladylike minimalism—each became unforgettable not just because of their labels, but because they were woven into their stories, defining new traits within each brand’s respective DNA.

And yet, while the fashion moments became endemic to the show, they were never the true center of the story. At face value, Sex and the City was about dating in New York, but its real glue was friendship—deep, loyal, unshakable friendship. It was the kind of friendship that many women long for, more essential to a life well lived than any bag, shoe, or spouse.

So why does And Just Like That feel like an entirely different creation? The keyword is zeitgeist. SATC existed in the late ’90s and early 2000s. Filmed in the streets of New York, it captured the evolving lives of women in their thirties who existed before our current series of financial collapse and culture war. Its creators were blissfully unaware of how its discourse would age in the era of cancel culture, giving them the freedom to prioritize entertainment and appeal to an audience that was familiar with feelings of disagreement. They did this so well that the show became part of a cultural lexicon. It was revolutionary precisely because it epitomized the moment, and it remains relevant due to the strong nostalgia it evokes.

In And Just Like That, the same characters we grew up with have been updated in service to a woke culture that lives more in the writers’ imagination than the heroines themselves.

The series aspired to honor the dignity of older womanhood—portraying Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte as women still evolving in midlife. But in its eagerness to do so, it became tangled in an attempt to be all things to all audiences, folding inclusivity into the script with such obvious calculation that the storylines felt forced. Where Sex and the City had once reflected the zeitgeist by being fearless, provocative, and unconcerned with pleasing everyone, And Just Like That felt so desperate to appease an audience on the other side of a generational divide that it found itself giving midlife crisis rather than embracing the possibility that with age rarely comes wokedom.

The two follow-up SATC films were hard enough as it is. But the remake/revival frenzy thrives on nostalgia, convincing itself that the magic of the past is guaranteed to endure. While the love of its audience is guaranteed to generate revenue, it was an endeavor that was bound to dilute its legacy. As a core audience, our loyalties were exploited, and in exchange, we were met with weak storylines and unconvincing character arcs that challenged our ability to continue suspending disbelief.

John Corbett, Sarah Jessica Parker in And Just Like That, season 3
Courtesy of Warner Bros.

Even the fashion, once the soul of the series, feels lost. In Sex and the City, style was interwined seamlessly into the characters and their storylines, each outfit an extension of personality and circumstance. In And Just Like That, fashion overwhelms rather than enriches. Characters appear almost exclusively in off-the-runway pieces. Even minor figures who appear for less than a minute, like Harry’s personal shopper, who is dressed in a gold Schiaparelli jacket, don impossibly extravagant looks for people of their stature. What once felt real and intuitive now comes across as forced and too flashy; styled to shock rather than to complement the character. Once again, we are left flustered from the loss of authenticity, replaced crudely by obvious, in-your-face brand collaborations.

Sex and the City was built with intention, energy, and honesty. And Just Like That could have been an entirely new show with any other four women, and its impact would be unchanged. Instead, it wore the skin of something that had already lived within us. Worse, it was not even enjoyable as a hate-watch because of its deep connection to what we once loved. Some stories earn the right to remain untouched because they have already said what they needed to say, perfectly, in their own time.

Materialists Embraces Its Label While Refusing to Be Tied Down

With her sophomore film, Celine Song confronts the harsh realities of finding love in the age of late capitalism.

Lucy (Dakota Johnson) and Harry (Pedro Pascal) in Materialists.
A24

text by Kim Shveka


After her success with Past Lives (2023), at only thirty-six years old, Celine Song is back with Materialists, a self-proclaimed rom-com film. Here, the use of an aging genre serves as bait, only to reveal a somber and unflinching analysis of modern dating. In many ways, it looks and acts like a rom-com, but with a realness that challenges the genre. Unlike most romantic comedies—Hollywood’s once-beloved blockbusters, Materialists startles us with the terrifying unpredictability of authentic romantic connection. It does so with such bold intention that it forces you to re-evaluate your own moral barometer. It does stick to the rom-com tradition of being a bit quirky, but without ever softening its clear focus: the harsh reality of looking for love in an increasingly vapid society.

Instead of leaning on the cliché of romance as a battle of the sexes, Song presents dating as something far more unsettling: a stage where one’s self-worth is itemized and measured, where affection is dispensed, and where frank connection risks being reduced to trade. Through the eyes of Lucy, played by Dakota Johnson, love is a game of calculation. What is usually portrayed as a series of clever lines and happy accidents becomes a negotiation of value, often cruel and exposing, where emotions are fragile collateral to the forces of status, money, and appearance. To make this point explicit, Song threads price tags throughout the film, attaching literal numbers to everything from “acts of love” to Lucy’s makeup—the mere cost of admission to the neoliberal dating market.

The film begins with a cold open scene of a prehistoric couple exchanging a flower ring, marrying without even knowing what a wedding is. Immediately, you connect this spiritual, non-materialistic moment with the film’s title. With that unexpected artistic choice, Song sets the tone for the entire story, as we watch Lucy grappling between the primitive—her true love—and the present moment—her desire for comfort.

Lucy is a failed actress turned successful matchmaker in New York City. She is instantly revealed as the best at her job, though ironically incapable of finding her own match. At a wedding of a couple she paired, the bride has second thoughts and calls Lucy to her room. The bride admits she fears that she’s not marrying her fiancé out of love but because she likes how her sister is jealous of her. Lucy reflects for a mere second and answers: It’s because you deem him valuable. What may seem like a banal answer comprises the film’s central question of value in motion. Soon, Lucy meets the groom’s brother, Harry, played by Pedro Pascal, eyeing him as a potential client. He is what matchmakers call a ‘unicorn’ —a tall, wealthy, and handsome man. He’s that enduring mythic catch made exponentially rarefied by our current era. Of course, it doesn’t take long before his value to her shifts from potential client to mate; a subtle yet significant shift in the nature of their transaction. As they flirt, they are abruptly interrupted by John, a waiter who is quickly revealed to be her ex, played by Chris Evans. Over a quiet cigarette outside the venue, they let us into the depths of their long, complicated love story.

Lucy begins dating Harry, who takes her to fancy restaurants, sends her bouquets, makes pleasant conversation, and truly is the perfect gentleman. In Materialists, not a single emotion goes unacknowledged, and in what feels like the first time in cinema history, Harry is even seen paying the bill on-screen. Lucy even comments on how elegantly he does it, leaving no room for confusion that he is the provider, which leads to an honest conversation about her underlying insecurities. She sees herself as too old, too poor, with nothing to offer, such that she finds Harry’s interest in her bewildering. Yet Harry declares that he sees value in her, and through him, Lucy begins to detach from her analytical ways, surrendering carefully to her emotions.

While everything seems perfect between the two, Lucy can’t seem to shake her feelings for John, who is a thirty-seven-year-old struggling actor living with three roommates. In a flashback to their relationship, Lucy and John are driving to a restaurant for their anniversary, arguing over financial problems. It ends with Lucy saying, “It doesn’t work between us, not because we aren’t in love, but because we’re broke.” The line is brutal in its honesty, and it represents the most succinct summary of the film’s question at hand: In today’s world, is love enough? To answer this question, Song gives Lucy two choices whose compelling contrast mirrors her inner conflict very nicely without ever attributing much to the men’s personalities.

Lucy (Dakota Johnson) in Materialists
A24

At face value, the plot screams rom-com: two men, one woman, a choice must be made. But with its emotional intelligence and honesty, Materialists defies the genre’s tendency toward guaranteeing a fun watch. It was made to confront the way that financial security governs modern intimacy and to suggest that this is just one unfortunate product of a failing economic system. It lays bare the inherent contradictions that we think love is supposed to resolve. Wanting love does not mean rejecting security; wanting comfort does not mean giving up passion. Song captures this trope without hesitation. And yet, despite its harsh message, Materialists still carries a rhythm that feels light, offbeat, and witty. Rather than shying away from ugliness, she reinforces that it is a part of being human. Even the soundtrack reinforces this paradox: instead of popular songs, the film relies on mellow piano, almost elevator-like in tone, looping through each scene. The score builds tension by refusing to release it, heightening the strangeness and unease, while simultaneously laying a cushion for our eventual realizations.

The fact that Materialists was written by a young woman is evinced throughout the film, as if we’re viewing the world through the collective lens of a frank feminine experience while dating in the modern world. It’s volatile and fierce, deep and shallow, a beautifully rendered realm of inner conflict. Song’s perspective gives the film its pulse: she captures the contradictions of wanting both freedom and security, love and stability, romance and realism. Her voice carries an honesty that isn’t trying to universalize the female experience, but rather to present it in its full complexity with a vulnerability that makes the film feel alive. In only her sophomore film, Song reveals herself not just as a strong director, but as one with a voice entirely her own. Her vision feels deliberate yet alive, her choices inventive without ever being showy. She threads value, price, and desire together with a precision that feels effortless, like she’s bending the form of cinema to her will while keeping its meaning sharp and intact.

By making Lucy a matchmaker, Song cleverly refracts the dating-app culture of our time through a more timeless form. The algorithms of swipes and stats are concealed in the guise of “intuition,” but the effect is the same: relationships are matches, profiles, and data. And yet, because the device is matchmaking rather than apps, the film resists the inevitability of dating itself. Materialists is both of this moment and cleverly unattached to it.

Fondazione Prada Announces Film Fund To Sustain The Future Of Independent Cinema

Fondazione Prada is launching the Fondazione Prada Film Fund—a bold, €1.5 million annual commitment to champion the future of independent cinema. Debuting in Fall 2025 with an open call for submissions, the Fund is designed to support films of exceptional artistic ambition, deepening the institution’s two-decade engagement with the moving image.

Each year, a jury of seasoned professionals will select 10 to 12 feature films for support—regardless of origin, language, or genre. The only benchmarks: quality, originality, and a singular vision. The Fund’s purpose is clear—to offer meaningful support at key stages of filmmaking, from early development through post-production.

“Cinema is a laboratory of ideas and a site of cultural education,” says Miuccia Prada, President and Director of Fondazione Prada. “That’s why we’re committed to helping bring new works into the world—works that demand something of the viewer and open up new ways of seeing. This Fund continues our long-standing dialogue with the radical, the visionary, and the free.”

Rooted in editorial independence, the Fondazione Prada Film Fund works closely with an evolving team of producers, curators, and internationally recognized cinema experts. Its rigorous curatorial framework reflects the broader mission of Fondazione Prada: to generate unexpected encounters between disciplines and foster new creative languages.

With an eye toward inclusivity, the initiative is structured to embrace a wide range of filmmakers—from established auteurs to emerging voices to those working in experimental or research-based modes. By doing so, the Fund aims to enrich the vibrant, pluralistic landscape of contemporary cinema, not just with resources, but with faith in the power of the cinematic imagination.

Fondazione Prada Film Fund is a project developed by Paolo Moretti—curator of Fondazione Prada’s Cinema Godard program, director of the Directors’ Fortnight at Cannes Film Festival from 2018 to 2022, head of the Cinema department at ECAL (École cantonale d’art de Lausanne), and Director of Cinémas du Grütli in Geneva—in collaboration with Rebecca De Pas, a member of the selection committee at the International Film Festival Rotterdam, art consultant for the Viennale, and co-director of FiDLab—an international coproduction platform—from 2009 to 2019.

Holy Cow: A Shocking Subtlety

text by Maisie McDermid


Following the sunburned back of an older man carrying a beer keg towards a crowd of thirsty teenagers in a field, French director and part-time farmer Louise Courvoisier introduces the audience to Jura—a low mountainous region in eastern France. The sweaty group gathered around a makeshift bar begins cheering and yelling a local chant as Holy Cow’s central character, Totoné (Jura local, Clément Faveau), lifts himself onto the wooden bar table. One second, he’s red-cheeked, smoking, and smiling, and the next, he follows orders from below: to strip off his clothes. So he does, and we meet Totoné—a character who simultaneously makes you want to chuckle and cry.

Premiering in the Un Certain Regard section of Cannes in May 2024, the small independent film raked up two César Awards, including Best First Film, and is now touring globally. In its simplest form, 18-year-old Totoné navigates a forcibly rushed entry into adulthood. He pivots from mourning his dead father to committing to a regional cheese-making competition. In doing so, he finds and loses love, tries and fails at being a friend, and clumsily raises his seven-year-old sister, Claire.

In her debut feature film, Courvoisier, a native to the Jura region, attends to the environment as she does to her non-professional cast of characters. She dresses many of them in red, drawing out the surrounding greenery, and documents the film primarily outdoors. Amidst it all—long bathtime stills, winding motorbike clips, flashed scenes of drunken, loose dancing, and kicks and punches—you see Totoné, a character who seeks to be unseen. Up-close shots of his expressive face bring you up-close to his inner thinking. After a while, you realize he really does not know how to act when other characters really look at him; on the rare occasion, he drops his eyes and somewhat sways. In this way, Courvoisier gives you access to a character who others find inaccessible. From seeing him in the initial scene, butt-naked, to the final scene, smiling with a tear in his eye, you develop an unmatched empathy. It's Faveau’s inexperience in acting that makes this film shockingly honest.

While Courvoisier and cinematographer Elio Balézeaux clearly demonstrate their distinct filming techniques—framing many shots in car-window rectangles, behind dusty window panes, and amidst the repeated circular shapes of cheese wheels—the film slips through subtle scenes. It’s the deeply considered yet casual air to each shot that exposes the utter beauty of dirty and dusty farmlife. Courvoisier builds suspense with picked guitar chords and slows scenes with soft, strumming instrumentals, creating a raw world for complex yet relatable relationships to move through an unpredictable plot. Although the falling-outs and mendings between Totoné and his first love, Marie Lise (Maïwene Barthelemy) and his two best friends, Jean-Yves (Mathis Bernard) and Francis  (Dimitry Baudry) arise from peculiar scenarios, they encapsulate a widely known and remembered youthful temper. 

Courvoisier stages Totoné’s make-out scenes with Marie in unmade, dirty beds and piles of hay, drawing on the young lovers’ desperation for discovery. She spins us around a kitchen table littered with liquor from three guy friends awkwardly dancing side-by-side to blasting Bad Bunny, glimpsing into small-town drinking culture. And invites us into the in-between moments—Totoné and Claire asleep on a tired couch with Claire’s small bowl of spaghetti balanced on her leg or Totoné walking down a narrow hallway fixing his hair, his signature habit. 

Not every scene has an objective purpose, but this is perfectly fine. The drawn-out scenes of Totoné laying out on his bed mid-day or of Claire playing with Totoné’s hair prove how in-between moments define life, not milestones. Holy Cow is not about moving past a relative’s death, reconciling lost friendships, or winning a competition; it’s about the ongoing nature of grief, loss, and disappointment. The unfinished aspects of the film—from cut-off conversations to incomplete plot points—actually make this film true. 

Watch the Holy Cow trailer here.

Doc Fortnight 2025: Breaking Reality, One Frame at a Time

At MoMA, Memory and Desire Collide in a Cinematic Exploration of the Real and the Imagined.

 

Marlow Fazon Featuring Yesterday. 2025. USA. Directed by Isaiah Davis. Courtesy the filmmaker

 

text by Eva Megannety

Doc Fortnight isn’t just an exhibition—it’s a provocation. MoMA’s annual nonfiction showcase has long been a space where documentary defies its own rules, and 2025 is no exception. This year’s lineup fractures, distorts, and reimagines the boundaries of nonfiction, blending memory, identity, desire, and upheaval into something more elusive—more intimate—more true. From legendary filmmakers like Errol Morris and Stanley Nelson to bold newcomers rewriting the language of documentary, these films dissolve fact and fiction, turning the camera into an accomplice, an intruder, an unreliable narrator. Among the exhibition’s most daring offerings is Doc Fortnight Shorts 4: Memory and Desire, a selection of films that probe the slipperiness of recollection and longing, proving once again that at Doc Fortnight, truth is never simple.

Prelude (2025, USA, dir. Jen DeNike)

Memory is a fragile thing, a collage of images and emotions that flicker and fade—except when celluloid steps in to hold it still. Prelude is a quiet, aching elegy where letters, family photographs, and the misty Scottish countryside form a bridge between past and present. DeNike crafts a dreamscape of longing as a daughter tries to reconcile her mother’s slipping mind with the secret history of a love that once burned bright. It’s an act of cinematic grace, a requiem for the things that time refuses to keep.

Blue (2024, Romania/Portugal/Hungary/Belgium, dir. Ana Vîjdea)

Some families suffocate with love. Some let it spill out in bursts of anxiety and control. In Blue, Ana Vîjdea delivers an unflinching portrait of Rodica, a Romanian mother scraping by in Belgium, desperate to keep her children close. Shot in tightly framed interiors that feel like walls closing in, the film pulses with the kind of intimacy that verges on claustrophobia. Love here is not soft; it’s a grip that doesn’t loosen, an embrace that lingers just a little too long. Vîjdea, ever the documentarian of human fragility, finds the tension between devotion and possession, between wanting to hold on and knowing you must let go.

Marlow Fazon Featuring Yesterday (2025, USA, dir. Isaiah Davis)

Isaiah Davis has never been one to shy away from the body—its textures, its violence, its aesthetic possibilities. His latest work, Marlow Fazon Featuring Yesterday, is less a film than a living, breathing installation, a visceral meditation on Black masculinity that pulls from sculpture, music, and the language of fetish. Leather, metal, horrorcore, and the yearning croon of Boyz II Men collide in this dissection of identity, power, and nostalgia. It’s raw, provocative, and formally daring—a theatrical reworking of Davis’ own past installations that reminds us how history, both personal and cultural, is always being remade.

Freak (2024, USA, dir. Claire Barnett)

Some films look like they shouldn’t exist—like you’ve stumbled onto something you were never meant to see. Freak feels that illicit. Shot in jittery, voyeuristic camcorder footage that trembles with tension, Barnett’s film pulls us into the obsessive push-and-pull of young love, where devotion looks an awful lot like self-destruction. It’s raw, nervy, and unsettling, stripping intimacy down to something almost holy—if holiness could be found in jealousy, insecurity, and a love so intense it borders on madness.

School of the Dead (2025, USA, dir. Hannah Gross)

“We need a dead(wo)man to begin.” Helene Cixous’ words haunt School of the Dead, Hannah Gross’ spectral, elliptical debut. A film about absence, inheritance, and the ghosts that shape us, it plays like a séance conducted through cinema—casting Sierra Pettengill as both subject and specter, searching for something in the vast, ancient landscapes of Alberta. History, personal and prehistoric, folds in on itself: the voices of lost mothers, forgotten texts, and the echoes of Clarice Lispector all bleed into this hypnotic, shape-shifting hybrid. Gross makes grief tangible, a thing you can almost reach out and touch before it vanishes into the frame.

If Doc Fortnight 2025 proves anything, it’s that nonfiction cinema is no longer bound by objectivity—or even reality. The festival’s most striking moments weren’t just about documenting the world as it is, but about reshaping it through memory, desire, and the slippery nature of truth. Films like Prelude and School of the Dead blurred the line between personal history and poetic reconstruction, while Freak and Marlow Fazon Featuring Yesterday pushed intimacy and identity to their rawest extremes.

The hybrid and avant-garde works showcased here reject the notion that documentary must simply “capture.” Instead, they challenge—contorting time, bending form, and questioning whose stories get told and how. This isn’t just a shift in style; it’s a radical redefinition of storytelling itself, one where fiction and nonfiction are no longer opposing forces but inseparable collaborators.

Leaving the exhibition, I found myself reconsidering what it means to document something. Is truth what we see, what we remember, or what we choose to believe? Doc Fortnight 2025 suggests it might be all of the above, and that’s precisely what makes this era of nonfiction cinema so thrilling.

Capturing the North: Juliet Klottrup’s Lens on Community, Identity & Belonging

text by Lara Monro

Award-winning visual artist Juliet Klottrup is redefining how we view life in the North of England, blending photography and filmmaking to document communities often left out of mainstream narratives. Her work spans rural traditions, environmental concerns, and the resilience of underrepresented groups, capturing intimate stories of identity and belonging against the backdrop of the region’s landscapes. As an Honorary Photography Teaching Fellow at the University of Cumbria, Klottrup also shares her process and encourages students to explore photography as a tool for social engagement.

Klottrup’s practice has evolved into a modern archive of Northern life, marked by projects such as Youth of the Rural North and her Class, Covid & Cumbria series exhibited alongside Grayson Perry at Blackwell, The Arts & Crafts House. Her most recent projects—Travelling Home and Skate Like a Lass—continue to reflect the depth of her socially engaged approach.


 

Travelling Home (© Juliet Klottrup, 2024)

 

Since 2019, Klottrup has been documenting the Traveller and Gypsy communities in the North West of England, focusing on their annual pilgrimage to the Appleby Horse Fair in Cumbria. Inspired by the sight of families passing by her window each summer—bow top wagons, horseback riders, and motor caravans winding along rural roads—Travelling Home became a deeply personal exploration of tradition, heritage, and resilience.

A standout figure in this series is Joe, a Traveller whose life and stories are etched into the landscape he traverses. “It was like time travel,” Klottrup recalls of her first ride with Joe through the quiet, empty roads of the Moors, listening to the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels. This connection led to a rich collection of portraits and an evocative short film, shot on Kodak 8mm and 16mm, to capture the timelessness of the Traveller experience. The film has been recognised at international festivals, including the London Film Festival and Santa Barbara International Film Festival.

For Klottrup, documenting these communities is as much about preserving cultural heritage as it is about challenging stereotypes. “The ongoing marginalisation of the Traveller and Gypsy community has strained relationships and hindered inclusion,” she says. Travelling Home aims to counter these misconceptions, focusing on family, ceremony, and the gentle traditions that persist in the face of societal change.

 
 

While Travelling Home explores heritage rooted in centuries-old traditions, Klottrup’s Skate Like a Lass shifts focus to contemporary grassroots communities, highlighting the inclusive, dynamic world of female and LGBTQI+ skateboarding collectives in Northern England.

The project was sparked by a chance encounter with Cumbria Cvven, a girls’ skate group in Barrow-in-Furness. There, Klottrup met Lily, a skater hosting a DIY skate jam on the roof of a disused multi-story car park, where handmade ramps created a makeshift haven for skaters of all ages and abilities. “I was inspired by the creativity and inclusivity,” Klottrup recalls. “These collectives offer more than just skateboarding—they create places of belonging, self-expression, and access.”

 

Skate Like a Lass (© Juliet Klottrup, 2025)

 

Drawing from the work of photographer Wendy Ewald, who empowered young people to tell their own stories through photography, Klottrup handed cameras to the skaters themselves. This collaborative process allowed participants to document their lives, capturing the raw, authentic energy of their communities. The project blends formal portraits with DIY documentation techniques, using Super 8, VHS, and digital formats to honor skateboarding’s rich visual history.

The results are striking: a short film—recently recognized with a Shiny Award—two exhibitions (at SHOP in Preston and Aunty Social in Blackpool), and a DIY zine co-created with the skaters. 

Though Travelling Home and Skate Like a Lass differ in subject matter, they share a common thread: a commitment to amplifying underrepresented voices and preserving the cultural fabric of Northern England. Whether capturing the timeless traditions of Traveller communities or the vibrant, rebellious spirit of grassroots skaters, Klottrup’s work is rooted in empathy, collaboration, and a deep respect for her subjects.

“There’s great value in amplifying these stories that might otherwise be overlooked,” she explains. “Both projects reflect how people create spaces of belonging—whether on rural roads or in urban skateparks.”  

As Klottrup continues to expand her practice, blending archival research with collaborative storytelling, her work serves as a vital record of Northern life—past, present, and future. Through her lens, the landscapes and communities of the North are not just documented; they are celebrated.

Skate Like a Lass will be on view @ SHOP Preston, PR1 3XA
Thursday, February 27, 6:30–8 PM
Friday, February 28, 1–4 PM
Saturday, March 1, 12–3 PM
Sunday, March 2, 12–3 PM

The exhibition will also be on view @ Aunty Social, Blackpool, FY1 3AQ March 20th - 25th, 12-3 PM

Travelling Home (© Juliet Klottrup, 2024)

Academy Museum of Motion Pictures Presents Color in Motion: Chromatic Explorations of Cinema and Cyberpunk: Envisioning Possible Futures Through Cinema

Color in Motion: Chromatic Explorations of Cinema delves into the essential role of color in cinema, featuring film clips, technological equipment, and objects, including the legendary ruby slippers designed by Gilbert Adrian from The Wizard of  Oz (1939), the green dress designed by Edith Head and worn by Kim Novak in Vertigo (1958), a blue ensemble worn by Jamie Foxx as Django in Django Unchained (2012), and a Wonka chocolate bar from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971) . Interactive installations invite visitors to engage with color in innovative ways. A comprehensive catalogue will accompany the exhibition, offering deeper insights into the legacy of color in film.

Color in Motion: Chromatic Explorations of Cinema is curated by Senior Exhibitions Curator Jessica Niebel with Assistant Curator Sophia Serrano, Research Assistant Alexandra James Salichs, and former Curatorial Assistant Manouchka Kelly Labouba.

Cyberpunk: Envisioning Possible Futures Through Cinema explores the global impact of the cyberpunk subgenre on film culture, showcasing iconic films like Blade Runner (1982), The Matrix (1999), and international titles such as Sleep Dealer (2008) and Akira (1988). At its core, an immersive installation will trace the genre's origins and its evolution into 21st-century themes like Afrofuturism and Indigenous futurism. Visitors can also experience a mixed-reality (MR) installation, and the exhibition includes a catalogue with rare behind-the-scenes images and exclusive merchandise.

Cyberpunk: Envisioning Possible Futures Through Cinema is curated by Vice President of Curatorial Affairs Doris Berger, with Assistant Curators Nicholas Barlow and Emily Rauber Rodriguez. 

 

Color in Motion: Chromatic Explorations of Cinema, Academy Museum of Motion Pictures. Photo by: Josh White, JWPictures ©Academy Museum Foundation

 

Color in Motion: Chromatic Explorations of Cinema runs through July 13, 2025, and Cyberpunk: Envisioning Possible Futures Through Cinema runs through April 12, 2026.

The Academy Museum exhibition galleries and store are open six days a week from 10am to 6pm and are closed on Tuesdays.

In conjunction with the exhibition Color in Motion: Chromatic Explorations of Cinema, the Academy Museum proudly presents The Wonders of Technicolor, a screening series that celebrates the vibrant and indelible impact of Technicolor on Hollywood productions and audiences. From shaping narratives to evoking emotions, color transcends logic, resonating deeply with audiences. Introduced in the 1930s, Technicolor IV became the dominant color technology in Hollywood, defining the look of studio films with its crisp images and vibrant hues. This series highlights Technicolor's profound influence on filmmaking, showcasing its contributions to production design, costume, and cinematography, as seen in classics like Vertigo (1958) and Cabaret (1972).

Tickets to the Academy Museum are available only through advance online reservations via the Academy Museum’s website and mobile app.

Catherine Corman's "Lost Explorer" Is A Prosaic Observation of Beauty Hiding In Plain Sight

written and directed by Catherine Corman
based on the novel Honeymoon by Patrick Modiano
Jean: Roger Corman
Annette: Sally Kirkland
“Song of the Sea” written and performed by Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou

Jean (Roger Corman), an undersea explorer and documentarian, has begun to question his life’s work. Skipping a flight to Rio for his next expedition, he returns instead to the city, revisiting the places that inspired his quest for adventure, hoping to rediscover the longing that drove him to the ends of the earth, and which now pulls him back to his own past.

A statement from the artist:

“Years ago, I wrote a book about the Surrealist sculptor Joseph Cornell. His enchantment with the sea led to portraits of the mythical water nymph Undine, an homage to Descartes made of driftwood, and variations on Chardin constructed out of seashells. The sea became a sort of metaphor for art, each visible and knowable, and yet a mystery.

Another kindred spirit of the Surrealists was the undersea filmmaker Jean Painlevé, whose slow motion underwater ballets starring seahorses, starfish and seashells, illuminated the secrets of the depths of the sea. His mute, lyrical images are a poetic ideal that inspired Lost Explorer.

Painlevé and Cornell explored ways of creating art by of observing objects in the world, things as they are — sea creatures drifting along ocean currents, old postcards of mermaids, faded slides of white seashells - and revealing their natural, inadvertent beauty. 

In this film I have tried to observe the world and gently arrange it into poetry. I shot existing locations, unaltered. There was no crew — no set dressing, no lighting, no costumes. All the clothes my father wears are his own, all the props were found around our house.  

This is the simplest sort of filmmaking, more an observation of the world, with careful attention to all of its latent poetry, and openness to the mystery and beauty, barely hidden, waiting to be discovered.”

Object (Soap Bubble Set) (1941), Joseph Cornell

Still from The Seahorse (1931), Jean Painlevé

Catherine Corman's short films Lost Horizon and Little Jewel, based upon the work of Nobel Laureate Patrick Modiano, were long-listed for the Academy Award. Little Jewel was also invited to the Cannes Film Festival. Her short film Les Non-Dupes screened at the Berlin Biennale. Her book of photographs, Daylight Noir, was exhibited at the Venice Biennale and is included in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art. She was educated at Harvard College and Oxford University.

Roger Corman is an Academy Award winning filmmaker who has been honored by the Cinémathèque Française, the British Film Institute, and the Museum of Modern Art. He has made over five-hundred films, including a series of Edgar Allan Poe films, and a number of films chronicling the 1960s counter-culture. His film The Wild Angels was the opening night film at the Venice Film Festival. He received the first Producer’s Award at the Cannes Film Festival. He distributed films by Ingmar Bergman, François Truffaut, Federico Fellini, and Akira Kurosawa in America.

Patrick Modiano received the 2014 Nobel Prize in Literature. In his citation, the Nobel Committee highlighted “the art of memory with which he has evoked the most ungraspable human destinies and uncovered the life-world of the occupation." He has also received the Grand Prix du roman de l'Académie française and the Prix Goncourt. He is the author of more than forty books.

Sally Kirkland was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance in Anna, for which she also received a Golden Globe for Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture, an Independent Spirit Award for Best Female Lead, and a Los Angeles Film Critics Association Award for Best Actress. A former member of Andy Warhol’s Factory, she has appeared in over two-hundred films.

A Memory: Tabaimo’s Nest at GL Strand in Denmark

Tabaimo, aitaisei-josei, 2015 Video installation ©Tabaimo. Courtesy of Gallery Koyanagi and James Cohan Gallery GL STRAND Photo by David Stjernholm

text by Lara Schoorl

Walking into, Nest, Tabaimo’s first retrospective in the Nordic region, is like walking into someone’s subconscious mind, half asleep, half awake, half dream, half real; each film a vignette into an absurd fusing of desired or criticized aspects of society; each painting and installation a remnant of that. Spread across three floors of Copenhagen’s GL Strand––an eighteenth century aristocratic house designed by the Dutch-Danish architect Philip de Lange that has housed the almost hundred-year old art association for the past five decades––Tabaimo turns the interior of a home into the interior of a psyche; using the architecture of the exhibition space as well as the architecture in her works as a lattice that let the realms of inside and outside, private and public seep through and into each other. 

“haunted house” (2003), one of five hand-drawn and then computerized stop motion animation videos in the exhibition, is the first work on view and a gateway from the outside to the inside, into which one will be pulled deeper and deeper as one dwells through the show. On a curved wall we follow a moving peephole or telescope-like lens across a cityscape filled with apartment buildings; only seeing as much as the round lens reveals, while the rest of the wall remains in the shadows, blocked from our vision and awaiting its turn to be gleaned over. Our eyes move across windows and inevitably the scenes behind it. We see people standing, walking, eating in their homes; we imagine their moods and relationships; and then imagination begins to blend with reality when the (made up) life stories behind these people are suddenly taking place in blown up proportions atop buildings. In this video work, Tabaimo uses an amalgam of childhood memories and adult daydreaming to peer into the lives of others. While we are still looking from an outside perspective, a longing for the inside is instilled.  

Tabaimo, haunted house, 2003 Video installation ©Tabaimo. Courtesy of Gallery Koyanagi and James

As one continues up a floor, we enter “public conVENience” (2003) and stand at the edge of a public bathroom. Installed across three wall-sized screens positioned in a U-shape and built on an inclining ramp, this public yet intimate space starts out as larger-than-life, but grows smaller towards the end of the slope. A concoction of perspectives both realistic and fantastical presents itself depending on where one chooses to stand. We are inside a shared space, a unique liminal space where public and private meet. Women walk into the screen and into the stalls, peeing, disposing of sanitary napkins, re-applying makeup. Then, here too, Tabaimo allows for fictional narratives to insert themselves into our shared reality. One of the bathroom visitors takes off her clothes, and dressed in a bathing suit, ties a rope to her waist before diving into one of the squat toilets; later on, a giant moth flies into the space, and a turtle is flushed in one of the bowls. For the majority of the video we stand separately, as one of the possible bathroom visitors, but occasionally a zoom-in occurs across three screens and we are staring at what could be our own feet squatting above a toilet. Slowly, we are roped into the narratives of the works.

Tabaimo, public conVENience, 2006 Video installation ©Tabaimo. Courtesy of Gallery Koyanagi and James Cohan. GL STRAND Photo by David Stjernholm

The further we enter the exhibition, the more the space between us and the works blur; with each floor interior spaces protrude more outward. On the second floor, in the only room lit by natural light, as though to encourage growth, drawings of hybrid plant body parts are drawn directly upon the walls as well as on papers held in wooden frames. Technically perfect, to the likening of botanical and anatomical drawings for research and documentation purposes, the medium of drawing (here and in the videos) refers to Japanese woodblock printing and anime––the latter became a popular genre in the 1960s in Japan in which the border between real and imaginary lives also became porous––and form a formal undercurrent in Nest. The humanoid flowers lead us into the adjacent room in which an interpretation of Tabaimo’s studio is installed. Its presentation in an exhibition, in an art institution, in which touch is discouraged, emphasizes the installation is a rendering, a recollection (instead of a reality) of this place elsewhere, where it is used by the artist and so presumably holds an aliveness of materials and movement. Here, where the studio is in stasis, the viewer becomes a time traveler sharing the room with a frozen temporality. We are now fully inside one of the most intimate places of the artist, yet kept at a small distance by way of temporal and institutional boundaries. An anchor in our singular, physical, reality in the shape of systemic space or time, and its friction with alternative realities is a trope that recurs throughout the exhibition.

In the final gallery, after which no throughway or exit is available, only a way back through the previous rooms and tracing our steps down the other two floors, we land in “aittaisei josei” (2015), a video of a corner of a room without a ceiling. Or, a room for which the night sky poses as plafond, a full moon hanging directly above the meeting point of the cornering walls that disappear into a dark infinity. The scene spans one wall covering projection of said corner in which just a couch and a table are placed, with their sides closest to the edge of the image coming out of the screen and continuing into the space as real objects, cut out of furniture matching to the drawing in the video. The interior space in the video and the interior of the gallery space are literally connected as such and form a backdrop for the imaginary outside spilling in. A moth reappears on the screen, from behind the walls a tree grows high and into the room, and from its branches a head of hair appears, locks sweeping and reaching to the ground. In “aitaisei josei” all matter comes to life, moves, and turns not only spaces but meaning inside out.

Tabaimo, aitaisei-josei, 2015 Video installation ©Tabaimo. Courtesy of Gallery Koyanagi and James Cohan Gallery. GL STRAND Photo by David Stjernholm 

Although the longest video is little over 6.5 minutes, it is easy to continue watching each of them for much longer; the addictive quality of the bizarre that creeps into the everyday but also the slightly quivering texture of the countless succeeding animated drawings that compose the videos have a hypnotizing effect. And, simultaneously, it is the medium of drawing that functions both as a barrier between reality and the work, and one that prevents us from fully falling into a shared imagination between the artist and viewer. Nest, in nature a complex and built structure that nurtures new life, entices us to open those drawers in our minds for which there may be no space in our day-to-day life, and provides a place where our fantasy, fears, desires and anxieties are acknowledged and given a response.

Read A Conversation Between Paul Reubens & Nadia Lee Cohen From Autre 15: Losing My Religion →

 

Autre Magazine, Vol. 2 Iss. 15 F/W 2022: Losing My Religion

 

Paul Reubens is one of the most brilliant comedic talents of our era. His character, Pee-wee Herman, a maniacal man child with a famous red bowtie, hypernasality, and a predilection for mischief, is a Saturday morning cartoon come to life. Invented on the stage of The Groundlings, Pee-wee Herman is equally iconic and archetypal as Charlie Chaplin’s Tramp. Socially defective with the decency to wear a suit, both characters are rife with hilarious contradictions, and both characters are perfect representations of their respective zeitgeists. Whereas the Tramp was a silent and prophetic emblem of the forthcoming economic devastation of two global wars, Pee-wee may as well have been a louder-than-bombs manifestation of the late-capitalistic dreamscape of the 1980s. Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (Tim Burton’s directorial debut) and later Pee-wee’s Playhouse, which aired on CBS and saw an average of ten million viewers per episode, was a fantasy of talking furniture in a supersaturated world that harkened back to 1950s diners and primetime dance competitions, a satirization of Post-War Americana as a frenzied pastiche. This pastiche was a siren call for rising artist and photographer Nadia Lee Cohen, who also trades in the currency of alter egos and the milieu of consumerist reverie through the lens of humor. Raised in the English countryside, a self-professed wild child, the technicolor stagecraft of Hollywood had an irresistible allure. Her solo exhibition at Jeffrey Deitch Gallery, which was an unabashed sensation, included two large bodies of work from two sold out monographs published by IDEA Books. Women includes over 100 portraits of a diverse cast of female characters fictionalized by Cohen, at work and at play, all under the banner of Los Angeles’ disparate socio-economic milieu. Reminiscent of movie stills, the images are freeze frames in moments of action, repose, or seductive enchantment. In her most recent series,  HELLO, My Name Is, Nadia utilizes extensive prosthetics and makeup to embody a vast array of characters inspired by found corporate name tags—each character has an invented story, thoughts, dreams, and desires. It is a Hitchcockian character study of self-portraiture. Jean Baudrillard talked about this escape from the self in an age of simulation and hyperreality: "Never to be oneself, but never to be alienated: to enter from the outside into the form of the other." Both Paul Reubens and Nadia Lee Cohen take immense pleasure in this metamorphosis. Currently in production is a two-part HBO documentary on the life of Paul Reubens, directed by Matt Wolf (Spaceship Earth) and produced by the Safdie Brothers. In a time of shapeshifting realities and alternative facts, a time when we don’t even recognize the reflection in our mirrors, what can two masters of disguise teach us about who we really are? Read more.

Read Our Interview of Actor Benny O. Arthur on His Role in the Series Adaptation of Django →

Benny O. Arthur lounges in the grass. sweater by Dries Van Notenjeans by Y/Projectbelt by Saint Laurent

sweater by Dries Van Noten
jeans by Y/Project
belt by Saint Laurent

CAMILLE ANGE PAILLER: Tell me about Django and your role as Kevin.

BENNY O. ARTHUR: Django was a really special project. The series is a reimagining of Sergio Corbucci’s classic Spaghetti Western character. The series tries to show more perspectives of different people in that period—the minorities, and the world they created for themselves after the American Civil War. I played the role of Kevin Ellis, son of John Ellis, who is the visionary founder of an idealistic city called New Babylon. It’s a community that welcomes all outcasts and people of different races and creeds as equals. When we meet Kevin, he is his father’s number one advocate. He believes uncompromisingly in his vision. Our parents are often like superheroes to us when we’re kids, and it’s only as we get older that we recognize their humanity and their flaws. As John’s youngest son, Kevin has a youthful and hopeful worldview, which eventually brings him into conflict with the harsh realities of the Wild West. The idealistic image he has of his father begins to crumble as he comes to terms with the fact that even our heroes harbor darkness. Read more.

Leave Your Thoughts On Boobs After The Tone: Read Our Interview of Carly Randall On Her New Short Film "TITS" →

Carly Randall is a visual artist, filmmaker and creative producer. Her work explores issues and themes that specifically impact women in modern society. These include knife crime, online bullying  and filter culture, as seen in her multi-award-winning dance film, FILTERFACE: Double Tap to Like, which examines how social media filter culture affects the mental health of young women. 

In 2022, Carly was awarded a Develop Your Creative Practice grant from Arts Council England to create a 2-minute-long, educational art film that exposes the language men use to talk about women’s breasts, highlighting the ubiquitously misogynistic and objectifying attitudes. Carly set up a hotline for teenage boys and young men to share their honest opinions on women’s breasts via voicemail. She created posters to promote the hotline, strategically placing them in prime locations around London’s East End Borough of Hackney (sometimes up to 200 a go), and shared with universities, colleges and friends who posted them in city centres nationally to ensure a diverse response that fairly depicts the breadth of the UK. To accompany the voicemails, Carly worked with a casing agent to bring together a selection of women from around the UK to shoot and film their breasts—those which our patriarchal society have deemed “undesirable": too flat, too big, odd nipples…

Carly has created a unique social experiment that creatively dramatizes the disparity between the ‘fantasy’ and the ‘reality’ of women’s breasts as a result of unrealistic representations created by the porn industry, perpetuated across social media and reaffirmed by patriarchal conditioning. I spoke with Carly about her motivations behind the art piece, how Playboy inspired her backdrop for the art film, and her main takeaways from listening to the voicemails. Click here to read more and watch the film.

Hedi Slimane Photographs Featured In Poster For Rock Documentary "Meet Me In The Bathroom" Premiering In Theaters This November

Utopia and Pulse Film’s official Sundance Selection documentary Meet Me in the Bathroom—directed by Will Lovelace and Dylan Southern and based on the successful oral history released by author Lizzy Goodman in 2017—has partnered with photographer and Grand Couturier Hedi Slimane to celebrate the film’s official US theatrical release. The collaboration joins still-life images taken by Slimane during the book’s eponymous era of rock n’ roll revival between the years of 2001 - 2011 into a limited release concert poster to celebrate the film’s upcoming NYC and LA premiere events. The film features legendary bands such as The Moldy Peaches, The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD Soundsystem and more as it covers their come up amongst the backdrop of Lower East Side dive bars and gritty city streets.

Hedi Slimane became synonymous with this era while at the helm of Dior Homme leading as its Creative Director and dressing rock musicians such as The Strokes, The Libertines, Franz Ferdinand and The Killers, among others. Slimane’s intimate relationship with music has remained a creative force in his work as he continues to set the tone for a relationship between fashion and underground musical talent. 

The upcoming premiere events in LA (October 27 at The Fonda Theater) and NYC (October 30 at Webster Hall) will feature a special screening of the documentary with special guest panel Q&A and the first-ever reunion performance by The Moldy Peaches with additional surprise performances TBA.

“Meet Me in the Bathroom” will be released in theaters on November 4th at IFC, NY and Los Feliz, Los Angeles followed by a national theater opening expansion the week of November 11th. 

"Presley Gerber" The New Video By Hedi Slimane for Celine Haute Parfumerie "Eau de Californie"

Presley Gerber, directed by Hedi Slimane in California in December 2021

The memory of palo santo, that magical essence of wood, with fresh, smoky, and creamy facets.
In the background, the powdery notes of orris and tree moss give this Californian dream the signature of a Parisian Couture House.

Soundtrack: Girls - My Ma

Watch CELINE 15 "DYSFUNCTIONAL BAUHAUS" Men's SS23

CELINE 15
Palais De Tokyo
Paris, France
June 26th, 2022
DYSFUNCTIONAL BAUHAUS

Artworks by David Weiss, Alyss Estay, and Renata Petersen


Original soundtrack for Celine
“Design” Performed, written, and Arranged by Gustaf and produced by Chris Coady
Commissioned and co-produced by Hedi Slimane

Casting, Styling, and Set Design by Hedi Slimane

Hair Stylist
Esther Langham

Hair Colorist
Alex Brownsell

Makeup
Aaron De Mey

CATALOGUE OF DISGUISE Presents Their New Collection & Fashion Film @ TRAUMA BAR UND KINO In Berlin

art direction, styling and fashion by Tanja Bombach
photography by Laura Schaeffer 
makeup by Viktoria Reuter
hair by Kosuke Ikeuchi
nails by Camilla Volbert
modeled by Peer Liening-Ewert, June, Susanne Engbo Andersen, Yi-Wei Tien, Alistair Wroe

On Wednesday, June 22, CATALOGUE OF DISGUISE will be premiering ALOW, a 28-minute film that captures the pervasive anxiety, loss of control, and trepidation lurking under the surface of three separate escapist encounters. It is an underground tale of slow horror.

Collections made for the film by Laura Gerte, Don Aretino and Tanja Bombach blend with choreography by Phoenix Chase-Meares and Jos McKain developed with ten dancers.

The exclusive screening will be hosted by CATALOGUE OF DISGUISE at TRAUMA BAR UND KINO, where the film was shot.

During the event, there will be an immersive sound installation inspired by the film and after the screening a DJ-set by the sound artist Simone Antonioni, who scored the film. The soundtrack will be released under the independent Berlin-based record label Verlag later this year including a remix by ZIúR.

Date: June 22
RSVP via CATALOGUE OF DISGUISE

Watch PLAYSCAPE: Woolmark Finalists' Collection Reveal Film Directed By FKA Twigs

FKA twigs’ collective ‘Avant Garden’ launches its new era in film for the 2022 International Woolmark Prize in special partnership with the Isamu Noguchi Foundation and Garden Museum. Inspired by the famed landscape artist and architect’s vision of play as a creative catalyst, PLAYSCAPE merges influence from fashion, art, dance, and music. 

Choreographed by classically trained dancer Juliano Nunes, the film opens with an empty gallery of Noguchi’s play sculptures, which becomes populated by a diverse ensemble cast of characters. In the second part, the cast enters an imaginary landscape, where a ballet sensibility is combined with elements drawn from hip hop, modernism, contemporary dance and punk aesthetics. With creative direction by Zak Group, the short film showcases the merino wool looks from the International Woolmark Prize finalists Ahluwalia, EGONLAB, Jordan Dalah, MMUSOMAXWELL, Peter Do, RUI, and Saul Nash.

Director: FKA twigs⁠
Creative Direction: Zak Group⁠
Choreographer: Juliano Nunes⁠
Production Company: Object & Animal⁠
Producer: Jen Gelin⁠
DOP: Rina Yang⁠
Stylist: Matthew Josephs⁠
Still Photographer: Jules Moskovtchenko⁠
Edit: Dave Davis & Trim Editing⁠
Colourist: Luke Morrison⁠
Post: Electric Theatre Collective
Casting: HUXLEY⁠
Featuring: kiddysmile, Princess Julia, Kai Isaiah Jamal, Alex Thirkle, Dmitri Gruzdev, Ève-Marie Dalcourt, Hannah Raynor, Meschach Henry, Salomé Pressac, Tania Dimbelolo, and maycie⁠

The Finalists

Ahluwalia

EGONLAB

Jordan Dalah

MMUSOMAXWELL

Peter Do

RUI

Saul Nash