Aurelia Butler

Zhang Lu’s quiet film follows a man touched by nostalgia and loss, lending a melancholic air to this modern city of steel and glass.Time can have a curious ebb and flow in “The Shadowless Tower,” a ruminative Chinese drama in which the past intrudes on — and at times overwhelms — the present. For its middle-age protagonist, time can seem to drift, much as he does. On occasion, it almost stops dead, partly because he seems stuck in limbo. A poet turned filmmaker, a husband turned divorcé, a son turned orphan, our hero is caught between who he once was and who he has become.It seems fitting then that the first time you see Gu Wentong (Xin Baiqing) it’s at a cemetery, a space where the living visit the dead (and sometimes vice versa). He has come with several relatives, including his young daughter, to honor his mother. On reaching her grave, though, they are surprised to see that someone has left a bouquet of yellow flowers on it, a flash of bright color (one that the movie associates with family) and an act that confounds them, given she didn’t have other relatives. The bouquet soon becomes the first piece in a larger puzzle involving Gu Wentong’s long-estranged parents as well as his own sense of self.Set in contemporary Beijing, the story emerges elliptically, as does Gu Wentong. He’s a quiet, somewhat reserved man with glasses and a stooped posture that suggest he’s read most of the books in the cramped, near-monastic bedroom that serves as his primary living space. It’s one of two bedrooms in his mother’s old apartment, a spartan space that he shares with a renter, a younger, openly unhappy man who’s trying to make it as a model. It’s instructive that there doesn’t seem to be a place for Gu Wentong’s daughter to sleep (there’s a bunk bed in the renter’s room); she’s being reared by his sister and brother-in-law.The despondent renter is one of a number of doubles that materialize in “The Shadowless Tower” as the story takes shape. The writer-director Zhang Lu (“Yanagawa,” “Desert Dream”) touches on a number of pungent, interconnected themes here, including family, nostalgia and loss. The movie offers a snapshot of present-day Beijing, for instance, with its washes of gray-blue, brightly lit nights and soaring glass-and-steel high rises. Yet even as that modern city comes into hazy view, another, Beijing does, too, creating what is effectively a superimposed picture of the capital, one that features old brick buildings, human-scaled narrow streets and the dazzling white 13th-century Buddhist temple that gives “The Shadowless Tower” its title.The temple towers above Gu Wentong’s neighborhood, functioning as a reminder of his childhood — he grew up in the district — and as an emblem of the permanence missing from his life. Despite flashes of humor, the movie is saturated with a sense of loss. Some of this has to do with his father, Gu Yunlai (sensitively played by the great Chinese filmmaker Tian Zhuangzhuang), who re-enters his son’s life after a painful, decades-long separation. The son doesn’t approach the father at first, but instead sneaks into his apartment, which turns out to be a shabbier, lonelier, even sadder twin of Gu Wentong’s own place.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

The final concert of the Japanese virtuoso is captured in an aching meditation on mortality and legacy.The twin themes of “Ryuichi Sakamoto: Opus” are art and mortality, and they’re twisted so tightly together that they become inextricable. Shot in black and white to match the keys of the piano, the film entirely consists of the influential Japanese musician’s final concert. One might say it was a performance for nobody — Sakamoto filmed alone in a studio, with only the crew there as audience. But it’s more correct to say it’s for us, a gift from a master.Sakamoto’s long career covered techno-pop, scores for movies like “The Last Emperor” and “The Revenant,” and experimental and instrumental albums that stretch and play with the full range of sound. The songs he plays in “Opus” — 20 in all — span his career. For the fan, it’s an intensely moving experience.But even for the viewer without much knowledge of Sakamoto’s work, “Opus” holds its own as the rare cinematic space for contemplation. There’s no context given, no attempt to create a narrative. Instead, the visual space is carefully filmed and the lighting manipulated to subtly shift the mood. Light and shadow are equally important. Everything from the panels on the studio wall to the inside of the piano to the leg of the stool on which the musician is perched becomes significant, all part of the performance. Sakamoto plays like a dancer, or a conductor; his hands shape the sound on the keys, but also take flight at times, as if he’s coaxing a tone out of the instrument, or himself.Sakamoto filmed the concert over a week in September 2022. He and the film’s director, his son, Neo Sora, meticulously designed the look of the movie, including storyboards to show how the lighting would change. It is a kind of monochromatic take on the shifting of light as morning turns to afternoon, then evening. By the end, Sakamoto appears to be playing in inky blackness, with one light standing in for the moon shining over his left shoulder.The reason for this interest in invoking the passage of time is simple: Sakamoto knew his days were numbered. In 2014, he was diagnosed with throat cancer. His recovery was documented in the 2018 film “Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda,” but in 2021 he was diagnosed with rectal cancer. He died in March 2023, about six months after filming “Opus,” at age 71.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

A British stockbroker quietly saved hundreds of lives by arranging for children in Prague to escape the Nazis by leaving for foster homes in England.When Nicholas Winton died in 2015 at 106, his obituary in The New York Times noted that, for decades, he had been startlingly reserved about what he achieved at the outbreak of World War II in Europe. Between the Munich Agreement in 1938 and Hitler’s invasion of Poland in 1939, Winton organized a rapidly moving operation that saved 669 children, most of them Jewish, by transporting them from Prague to Britain, where they were placed with foster families.The rescue didn’t receive wide public attention for 50 years, partly because, as the biographical feature “One Life” depicts, Winton (played by Johnny Flynn as a young man and Anthony Hopkins in scenes set later) was reluctant to acknowledge his heroism. In trying to capture this almost stoic modesty, the film, directed by James Hawes, falls into a dramaturgical trap.“One Life” is really two movies. It looks back on the wartime actions from 1987, when Winton considers what to do about a scrapbook of photos and documents he has kept. Flashbacks to the 1930s open a window on his plan to locate Jewish children in Prague, secure visas for each of them and find them temporary families in Britain. Time, financing and bureaucracy loomed as stubborn obstacles.The procedural complexities, and Winton’s efforts to gain the trust of the children’s parents, are compelling enough. They throw down a moral gauntlet to viewers, who must put themselves in his shoes. The motives of Winton, a British stockbroker and socialist with German-Jewish roots, are portrayed as pure altruism.By contrast, the 1980s thread — which builds to Winton’s appearances on the BBC program “That’s Life!” in 1988 — might have played discretely as a portrait of mental compartmentalization. But intercut with the weightier wartime scenes, this strand comes across as slight and, unlike Winton, self-congratulatory.One LifeRated PG. Running time 1 hour 50 minutes. In theaters. More

This French sci-fi tale plunges us into a world where a mysterious sickness turns humans into strange, sometimes terrifying part-animal creatures.By the time “The Animal Kingdom” opens, the enigmatic disease troubling the world has been circulating for years. It’s unclear where and how it started, much less why or just how far it has spread. Is a virus or bacteria to blame, or is it something in the air, the water, our genes? If we’ve learned anything from our recent pandemic it is that sometimes the most urgent questions aren’t immediately answerable. The big freaky unknown here is why people have begun mutating into beguiling, sometimes terrifying part-human, part-animal creatures.The furred and the hoofed, the feathered and the chaotically tentacled roam, slither and sometimes howl in “The Animal Kingdom,” an amusing what-if French fantasy with a touch of comedy and some glints of horror. It’s all pretty confusing for the 16-year-old Émile (a poignant, delicate, open-faced Paul Kircher), who’s struggling to deal with his mother, Lana (Florence Deretz). Adolescence is tough on its own without a mother who now seems post-verbal and whose face is covered in fur. Her breathing is strangely labored, too, although she also sounds as if she’s warming up a growl. Living alongside other species has its joys; its perils, too.An off-kilter mystery that teasingly flirts with a larger metaphoric resonance, the movie follows Émile as he and his father, François (a jittery, sympathetic Romain Duris), navigate their wild new normal. Lana has been institutionalized in a government-run facility since she attacked Émile — the deep scratches on the walls of her room resemble the scars on his face — and is receiving some kind of care. She’s about to be transferred to another facility in the south, where Émile and François are going to move. “We’ve made real progress in deciphering this disease,” a doctor reassures them. Controlling it is another matter.The director Thomas Cailley takes a direct, unfussy approach to the story, smoothly plunging you into it without ceremony or much background. (He shares script credit with Pauline Munier.) Within minutes, various meticulously rendered creatures have entered and exited, and Émile and François’s loving, testy relationship has been established. What’s also evident is the matter-of-fact attitude that the characters express. Everyone has adjusted to this disordered reality and has taken for-or-against positions, which is eerily familiar. At the same time, because the characters know far more than you do, at least at first, this creates a sense of unease that nicely fuels the movie’s smoldering dread.A sense of low-key unquiet continues even as the story shifts into a coming-of-age groove. Émile enters a new school where he hangs with other kids, develops a crush and changes, as all living things must. (Adèle Exarchopoulos shows up in a subplot, presumably because she’s a recognizable name.) It’s banal yet unordinary, as evidenced by the teens’ opposing views of the creatures; the intolerant call them “critters” while others argue for their rights. Then, while in the woods, Émile meets the birdman, a quasi-raptor, Fix (an impressively avian Tom Mercier), with majestic wings and a bandage where a beak should be. After chatting and cawing — Fix is losing his ability to speak — they become friendly.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

Ed Begley Jr. has made a tradition of taking public transportation to the Academy Awards. And, like many commuters, he wears sensible shoes.Ed Begley Jr. could be described as Hollywood royalty: The actor is a son of another actor, Ed Begley, who won a best supporting actor Oscar in 1963.But the younger Mr. Begley, a longtime member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, the organization behind the Oscars, commuted to this year’s ceremony like a plebeian by taking the Los Angeles Metro. His trip was filmed by his daughter Hayden Begley, who later shared the video on TikTok, where it has since received more than six million views.The video opens with Ms. Begley, 24, asking her mother, Rachelle Carson, Mr. Begley’s wife and Oscars guest, how she is getting to the ceremony. “I’m driving,” Ms. Carson says, before asking, “And you’re what?” Off camera Ms. Begley replies, “Taking the subway.” Ms. Carson, who is wearing a black lacy gown, mutters, “Oh God, whatever,” as she waves her arms in exasperation.Ms. Begley, who in a voice-over explains that she isn’t attending the ceremony with her father, then films his journey to the event on a 240 bus and the B line subway.

@haydenbegley #oscarsathome #oscars #oscars2024 ##publictransport##bus##train@@LA Metro##metro ♬ Chopin Nocturne No. 2 Piano Mono – moshimo sound design As Mr. Begley, 74, who has spent much of his career promoting environmentalism, talks to the camera about his fondness for public transit while riding the bus, he shows off two pins on the lapel of his dark suit jacket. One pin was shaped like an Oscar statuette and came from the Academy, where he served on the board of governors for 15 years. He said that the other pin, which had a capital M, was his “Metro pin for being a rider since 1962.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More