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      ‘The God Committee’ Review: At a Hospital, Judgment Day

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      In this drama starring Kelsey Grammer and Julia Stiles as cardiovascular surgeons, doctors have one hour to choose a heart transplant recipient.“The God Committee” ostensibly ponders the ethical compromises involved in choosing organ transplant recipients, but it mostly illustrates the dangers of facile twists.A teenage cyclist is killed in a hit-and-run that the screenwriter-director, Austin Stark, gratuitously plays for shock. The cyclist’s heart is helicoptered to New York, but the woman in line to receive it through normal channels dies during prep. That leaves the hospital’s heart transplant committee with an hour to decide who gets it.Should it go to a patient whose husband died on Sept. 11, 2001, but who is mean to the nurses? Should it go to an overweight doorman who has bipolar disorder, but who is trying to put three daughters through college? Or should it go to a much younger cocaine user and possible batterer whose father (Dan Hedaya) is dangling a $25 million grant?As agonizing as this emergency decision would be, the setup plays like a false trichotomy, compounded by ancillary ironies contrived for dramatic purposes. An eminent cardiovascular surgeon (Kelsey Grammer) on the committee has been having an affair with the group’s newest member (Julia Stiles). A lawyer-turned-priest (Colman Domingo) essentially acts as both.And in a device that has been added since “The God Committee” played in a stage version, written by Mark St. Germain, the movie crosscuts between these events, set in 2014, and the future, December 2021, when Grammer’s ailing character, nearing a scientific breakthrough, is himself a bad candidate for a transplant. A natural ham, Grammer only amplifies what is grandiose and bogus in this material.The God CommitteeNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 38 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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      ‘Cousins’ Review: The Ties That Bind

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      This sprawling drama breathes cinematic life into the 1992 novel by Patricia Grace about the diverging paths of three Maori cousins in New Zealand.The Maori family at the heart of “Cousins” greet each other by pressing their foreheads and noses together. The camera does the same: It peers deep into the characters’ faces, as if imprinting them onto its lens.The first face we encounter is Mata’s (Tanea Heke) as she walks dazedly through an unnamed city; the noises and textures around her blur together. With that same sensory dislocation, the film takes us back to her childhood, when she was separated from her family by her white father and placed in an orphanage.This tragedy begets several more in the sprawling “Cousins.” Directors Ainsley Gardiner and Briar Grace-Smith breathe gorgeous cinematic life into the 1992 novel by Patricia Grace (Grace-Smith’s mother) about the diverging paths of three Maori cousins in 1940s and ’50s New Zealand. A few years after Mata disappears, Makareta (Tioreore Ngatai-Melbourne) flees home to escape an arranged marriage. Missy (Hariata Moriarty), realizing that the wedding is their family’s desperate attempt to consolidate and retain their ancestral lands, takes her cousin’s place.Widespread racism, discriminatory laws and the Maori people’s centuries-long struggle for autonomy bracket the characters’ lives in “Cousins.” The film trembles with sound, color and feeling, deriving much of its power from an excellent ensemble cast (particularly Te Raukura Gray and Ana Scotney as the child and adult Mata). Not only do the actors who play different versions of each character bear striking resemblances to one another, but an ache — for their whānau (extended family), for their home and heritage — carries through their performances. They powerfully embody the Maori belief that genealogical ties can never be severed.CousinsNot rated. In English and Maori, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 38 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘No Sudden Move’ Review: Don’t Forget the Motor City

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      Don Cheadle and Benicio Del Toro star in Steven Soderbergh’s new film, a Detroit-set period thriller with a lot on its mind.On an ordinary Monday morning in Detroit, three masked man show up at a handsome brick house on a tree-lined street. Once inside, two of them hold a mother and her children at gunpoint while their colleague accompanies the man of the house, a midlevel accountant at General Motors, on an urgent errand. It’s the mid-1950s, which means the cars are big and curvy, the men mostly wear hats and neckties, and the women are mostly wives, secretaries or mistresses.Nobody involved — not the intruders or their victims — knows entirely what’s going on. The viewer of “No Sudden Move,” whose comparatively pleasant task is to connect a whole lot of intricately arranged dots, is in good company. The guys who stay behind in the house, Curt (Don Cheadle) and Ronald (Benicio Del Toro), have been hired by an impatient fellow named Mr. Jones (Brendan Fraser) for the supposedly simple job of armed babysitting. Before the morning is over, they learn that other, more elaborate agendas are involved: the petty grudges of organized crime bosses; the voracious ambitions of the automobile industry; the imperatives of American postwar power and prosperity.And also, hovering over all of it, the preoccupations of the director, Steven Soderbergh. In the current phase of his dizzyingly protean career, Soderbergh is both an intrepid genre filmmaker and an impassioned practitioner of the cinema of ideas. “No Sudden Move,” from a script by Ed Solomon (who wrote all three “Bill & Ted” movies), is for the most part a tight and twisty against-the-clock crime caper with an obvious debt to Elmore Leonard (and a family resemblance to Soderbergh’s great Detroit-set thriller “Out of Sight”). It also has things to say — at times a little too speechily — about race, real estate, capitalism and power.Those things are interesting, but maybe not as interesting as the people who say them. The story is about the sometimes lethal pursuit of cash and information, but the film’s single greatest asset is its cast. Curt and Ronald, small-timers who are skilled and smart but also out of their depth, are the focus of the action, which means that you spend a lot of time with Cheadle and Del Toro as they act out a high-stress — and yet low-key — buddy comedy.Ronald, a bit of a drinker and a bit of a racist, moves through the world as if dancing to a sad melody that only he can here. Curt, just out of prison with sorrows of his own, has the quick wit and jumpy intensity of a survivor. Each has fallen afoul of a local crime boss, which is bad for them but lucky for us, since the big shots are played by Ray Liotta and Bill Duke.There’s more, notably David Harbour as the pathetic G.M. accountant and Amy Seimetz as his seething wife. An entire melodrama of marital malaise and sexual secrecy is folded into their scenes, even as “No Sudden Move” suggests a Coen brothers movie with a sincere social conscience in place of the ambient cynicism. Most of the characters are semi-competent players in a game that is rigged against them, and you hope that at least some of them will play their bad hands well enough to break even.The movie itself is nearly flawless in its professionalism, which is both a virtue and a limitation. The costumes (by Marci Rodgers) and production design (by Hannah Beachler) create a museum-quality panorama of the Motor City in its glory years, even as the script points out some of the cracks in the burnished surfaces. The precision and grace of the actors I’ve already named extend all the way through the ensemble — through Jon Hamm (as a skeptical lawman), Frankie Shaw (as a G.M. secretary with skin in the game), Julia Fox (as Ronald’s paramour) — to at least one potential surprise I don’t need to spoil.In keeping with the automotive themes, everything runs like a well-oiled machine, which is also to say that a crucial, hard-to-define element — of soul, of spontaneity, of messiness or inspiration — is missing. The object that sets the plot in motion is a set of highly coveted blueprints, which at one point needs to be torn in half. The schematic for “No Sudden Move” remains perfectly intact, and the thing itself works pretty much according to the specifications. A consumer-rating agency would give it high marks for safety and efficiency, but it never leaves the showroom.No Sudden MoveRated R. Bloodshed and salty talk. Running time: 1 hour 55 minutes. Watch on HBO Max. More

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      ‘Some of Our Stallions’ Review: At Least They Don’t Shoot Horses

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      The film that poses the cause-and-effect question about toxic masculinity and unhinged behavior.No equine beasts adorn this queasy comedy. Too bad. The title “Some of Our Stallions,” parodies, one presumes, the self-aggrandizing language certain American males apply to themselves. The would-be “stallions” here are a couple of misfits. Carson Mell, a burly, bearded guy who insists on being addressed as “Beautiful Bill,” wrote and directed the movie as well as taking a starring role alongside Al Di, also a producer, who plays the fast-talking Andy. In the opening scene, Bill, in a fast-food restaurant meltdown, dunks his hands into the hot oil of a deep fryer.Soon after this, Bill decides what the two really need are girlfriends. After starting the quest at a mall and predictably striking out, Bill terrorizes a delivery guy, steals his car, and drives himself and Andy to a mental hospital — a place they are both familiar with — and lies to a discharged patient, telling her they’re with the government and providing rides. That woman, Bonnie (Olivia Taylor Dudley) actually takes a shine to Andy and eventually becomes pregnant by him.The movie’s occasional references to “Taxi Driver” suggest that Mell wants to make a statement about loneliness, or something. But the movie also indulges in a glut of stereotypes about mental illness that Mell enacts with an unseemly enthusiasm — like he’s executing an antisocial wish-fulfillment exercise. The sight of Mell running around outside in pajama bottoms brandishing a toy ray gun is neither as funny nor as illuminating as Mell seems to think it is. And the 180-degree move the filmmaker pulls at the denouement isn’t so much a sellout as an opportunistic surrender to hipster sentimentality.Some of Our StallionsNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. Rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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      ‘Scenes from an Empty Church’ Review: Cloistered Filmmaking

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      This film, proudly shot and set during the pandemic, stars Kevin Corrigan and Thomas Jay Ryan as priests with different perspectives.“Scenes From an Empty Church” stars three actors — Kevin Corrigan, Thomas Jay Ryan and Max Casella — who emerged as scene-stealers in the 1990s. But watching this proudly pandemic-shot and -set feature from Onur Tukel is like being returned to the locked-down days of 2020. In a decade, the film will serve as a time capsule. But right now, it feels redundant: a dramatization of arguments (about masks, the pandemic’s effects on New York and the value of applauding first-responders at 7 p.m.) that have circulated for too long.Most of the movie is indeed set at a church — it was shot at the Church of Saint Michael the Archangel on West 34th Street — that has two priests: Father Andrew (Corrigan) and Father James (Ryan). An unseen third has died of Covid-19. The action kicks off when Father Andrew meets up with a friend, Paul (Casella), who insists not only on entering the closed church, but also on going maskless, which upsets Father James.Father James agrees to let parishioners visit one at a time under strict rules (“if they have a cough, send them off”). And as they arrive, the movie increasingly resembles a feature made solely to prove that limitations were no obstacle. The stopgaps are simply part of the drama. Paul Reiser, as Father Andrew’s dad, appears only in video-chat.“Scenes” has its moments, as any film that sits Ryan and Corrigan opposite each other in a confessional would. But even special effects near the end play more like the response to a challenge than a spark of inspiration.Scenes from an Empty ChurchNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 37 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Google Play, FandangoNow and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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      Mae West Vamped and Winked. She Also Blazed a Trail We’re Still Following.

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      New editions of her early films reveal a screenwriter with a deep interest in lives on the margins. That was just one reason the censors couldn’t abide her.Mae West is fourth-billed in her film debut, the 1932 melodrama “Night After Night,” and she doesn’t appear until the 37-minute mark. But it’s an unforgettable entrance. We first hear her whiskey-soaked voice purring, from behind a wall of ogling men, “Now why don’t you guys be good and go home to your wives?” The men part like the Red Sea to reveal the blonde bombshell, poured immaculately into her gown and sparkling with jewelry.Within her first minute onscreen, she has tossed off one of her signature lines, as a coat check girl coos, “Goodness, what beautiful diamonds,” and West replies, slyly, “Goodness had nothin’ to do with it, dearie!” West didn’t just take over the movie — she took over the movies, period.In recent years, film historians, archivists and programmers have cast a long overdue spotlight on the earliest female auteurs, resulting in such indispensable efforts as the “Pioneers: First Women Filmmakers” box set from Kino Lorber; the documentary “Be Natural: The Untold Story of Alice Guy-Blaché”; and fresh releases and reappraisals of works by Ida Lupino, Lois Weber and Dorothy Arzner. But West is rarely mentioned among those groundbreakers, still regarded solely (alongside contemporaries like the Marx Brothers and her onetime co-star W.C. Fields) as a comedian, starring in entertaining if interchangeable roughhouse Paramount comedies of the 1930s.West making her screen debut in “Night After Night.”Kino LorberThe simplest explanation for this exclusion is that West did not direct her own pictures. But she wrote them, often adapting her own plays, a rarity among female performers of the era. And while marquee directors helmed her films (including Leo McCarey, Henry Hathaway and Raoul Walsh), none put their personal stamp on them as she did. A close examination of her first nine films, all released between 1932 and 1940 (and all newly available on Blu-ray, via KL Studio Classics) reveals recurring themes and concerns beyond even the considerable achievement of creating and cultivating her iconic comic persona.In “I’m No Angel” (1933), West is advertised as a “Marvel of the Age,” and that’s as good a description as any. Born Mary Jane West in Brooklyn, daughter of a prizefighter turned private investigator, she began performing in talent competitions as a child and hit the vaudeville stage in her early teens, eventually graduating to burlesque shows and Broadway revues. But West’s career didn’t take off until she began writing, producing and directing her own Broadway vehicles: lurid comic melodramas with attention-grabbing titles like “Pleasure Man,” “The Constant Sinner” and, simply and most memorably, “Sex.”West was pushing 40 when she made that memorable debut in “Night After Night,” and she came to the screen with her comic personality fully intact. Her first starring vehicle, “She Done Him Wrong,” was based on her Broadway hit “Diamond Lil.” It paired her with a handsome young unknown named Cary Grant, with whom she re-teamed for “I’m No Angel” later that year. Alas, the year in question was 1933, the final stretch of Hollywood’s pre-Code era, so named because of the still-scant enforcement the Hays Code, which was intended as a strict set of moral guidelines — for characters in motion pictures and for the actors who played them.West opposite Cary Grant  in “She Done Him Wrong,” based on her Broadway hit “Diamond Lil.”Kino LorberIndeed, “She Done Him Wrong” and “I’m No Angel” could only have been made — and Mae West, thus, could only have become a star — in the pre-Code era. The women she played were not just sexually independent; they were sexually voracious, unapologetic in their appetites (and their forthrightness about them). Such women were otherwise uncommon onscreen in the 1930s, and frankly, are still far from the norm.She got away with it (for a time) by wrapping her sexuality in a comic character. But when enforcement of the Code cranked up in 1934, West — whose two 1933 films were among the year’s biggest hits — topped the list of targets, and her screenplays were subjected to such scrutiny that her persona was all but defanged. Even slicing her dialogue couldn’t “clean up” a West picture, though; she had merely to wrap her suggestive voice around a line or to insert a little moan or a suggestive eye roll to make the most innocent piece of dialogue sound filthy.But she was always vamping with a wink and taking pains to include her audience on the gag. Time after time, West pulled off the neat trick of being sexy and satirizing the very concept of sexiness, pushing her eyebrow raising to the level of parody, exploring and ultimately eradicating the razor-thin line between horny and silly.West’s characters in “I’m No Angel” and other films were sexually independent and unapologetically so.Kino LorberStill, her scripts were never mere clotheslines on which to hang her double entendres. They were snapshots of life on the fringes, where she herself had dwelled: Bowery bars, vaudeville stages and carnivals, filled with gangsters, boxers and drunks. Perhaps because of her proximity to these worlds, she conveys a palpable affection for lowlifes, eccentrics and outcasts. No one thinks of Mae West as a purveyor of social realism, but perhaps people should. Is “I’m No Angel” less worthy of esteem than a social realist drama like “Dead End” simply because it has more laughs?Moreover, the personal preoccupations of her work, easily overlooked at the time, become apparent when viewing the films as a whole. Over and over again, West plays an outsider trying, and often failing, to fit in. Her characters are objects of derision, frequently from local women, hypocritical cops or corrupt politicians, who look down on her because she’s in show business, or because she’s a nouveau riche, or (most of all) because she’s sexual. Whatever the reason, she does not “belong.”Yet, Hays Code or no, women who not only survived as outsiders but thrived remained the central motif of West’s work. It has taken decades for mainstream cinema to catch up with what she was doing in the early 1930s, and while there are scores of possible explanations for West’s current exclusion from the canon, it is entirely possible that they’re the same now as they ever were: that she was a comedian, that she was overtly sexual, that she was fundamentally disreputable. It’s quite possible she’ll forever remain a gate-crasher.On one hand, that’s a shame. On the other, she probably wouldn’t have it any other way. More

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      Taylour Paige on ‘Zola,’ Grace and Being Kinder to Herself

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      For the stripper tale, the actress was mindful of the real Zola’s voice: “We’re in service of the bigger truth, the way we as Black women go through the world.”By her own estimate, Taylour Paige has about 48 voices inside her, at the ready for any situation.“I got an auntie voice, my educated, white-school voice, my high school,” she begins on a video call from Bulgaria, where she’s shooting “The Toxic Avenger.” Before she continues, one of those voices stops to clarify her statement. “When I say ‘white-educated,’ I’m not saying that being white is educated. I’m saying I went to a very white college. I was around a lot of white people, so that was a voice.” Then there was the voice observing her white friends doing wild things “where I’m like, ‘Oh, hell no. You white people are crazy.’”Code-switching — or “assimilating and survival,” as the actress described it — came in handy throughout her portrayal of the title character in “Zola,” the director Janicza Bravo’s new dramedy. In the film, inspired by the real-life Zola’s viral tweet thread, Paige plays a stripper who quickly vibes with Stefani, a white stripper (Riley Keough) with cornrows and a blaccent.“I think Zola was like, ‘OK cool, I got a new friend,’” Paige said. “‘She’s fun. We both hustle.’”But when Stefani whisks Zola to Florida to earn extra money dancing, things slip dangerously out of the latter’s control: there’s a sex-work scheme, an unhinged pimp (Colman Domingo) and other shady dealings. Zola navigates these increasingly chaotic circumstances while sharing her inner dialogue about how disturbing this all is.“I think, ultimately, the tragedy in this film is there’s a betrayal,” the actress said, referring to how Zola’s so-called friend has set her up.Paige, 30, is now known for her acting (her film credits include “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”) but growing up in Inglewood, Calif., she was a dancer under the tutelage of Debbie Allen, and later worked as a Los Angeles Laker Girl. She looks back on those years as a self-conscious young woman grappling with “generational self-loathing” with more compassion now. “Because I’ve given myself grace, I have a different availability to the roles that I always wanted. Before I was auditioning for my personality and auditioning for a role. So, everybody was lying.”Paige talked about “Zola” and how it helped her tap into her true identity. These are edited excerpts from our conversation.Paige with Riley Keough in “Zola.” The real Zola wasn’t “some ghetto buffoon that just went on Twitter,” Paige said. “She was very strategic.”Anna Kooris/A24Paige, center, appeared opposite Viola Davis and Dusan Brown in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom.”David Lee/NetflixSince last year, you’ve appeared in several movies — “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” “Boogie” and now “Zola.” How does it feel to be a bona fide movie star?I’m still this human being trying to figure it out day by day. I’m trying to live my truth in my storytelling and in my life, my spirituality. There’s no stop and start to what I feel like I’m trying to learn as a human.When I hear “breakthrough,” it is like, “OK, but what’s expected of me? What’s expected of Black women?” I just want to be a bridge for what happens when you stay focused and patient and kind and tell the truth.Where does your spirituality come from?I’ve always been a seeker and a philosopher and a deep thinker. Like, “What am I doing here?” Since I was 5, I was very much thinking about death and my existence. My mom had me at almost 40, so it’s a completely different generation and very much fear-based thought. My own insecurities were projected onto me from my mom’s own self-loathing. I just wish I was kinder to myself sooner and I was able to distinguish which voice was mine. Seeing the way my mom asserted herself and lived [affected] me in a good way and a bad way. Because I thought, “Time is ticking, and I have to figure this out.” I’ve changed that fear to “Time is eternal, but what are you going to do with it?”Did playing Zola help you realize anything about how you previously moved around the world in your own body as a dancer?I’ve been dancing since I was really little. I loved it. But I got to an age where there’s pressure and I was tired. I wanted to stop. But I had a scholarship. My mom wouldn’t let me. Your butt all of a sudden is growing and you’re going through puberty, and you need to be super skinny like everybody else.Dance, as much as it was my escape from my home, would start to be something I resented. It started to feel like something I was doing for my mom or because some people thought I was good. I still was involved with Debbie Allen, but I stopped a little bit. With “Zola,” it’s like a return home to the innate ability of shaking that ass. It’s not so technical, so overthought. It’s like a Black girl getting down in her bedroom, but at a club. How do you get back to that without it needing to be perfect? I wanted to undo all that for her and for myself.Paige said she had “Laugh” tattooed on her arm. “When you’re laughing, you’re like, ‘I’m still alive, I’m still here.’”Chantal Anderson for The New York TimesDid you have any reservations about how your body would be seen on the screen?I was of course really nervous and scared. Zola is such a force and so comfortable and confident in her body, and I’ve been self-conscious but I have been ready to be like, “Enough with the self-hatred. I’m never going to be this age again. My body works, my heart beats without assistance, I got 10 fingers, 10 toes. I’m just over it.” So I use that.That’s how Zola moved through the world. We’ve talked about how she’s been scared. But she does it anyway because she’s a Black woman and the bills got to be paid. Nobody’s going to do it for you. Also, Janicza was super protective from the jump. Like, “We’re not going to see your boobs.” I was like, “Hey, if it’s the right storytelling.” We show murders and violence on TV. I don’t know what the big hoorah is around boobs and our natural bodies.It does fit into the film’s voyeurism. Zola engages viewers with pithy commentary as her shocking experience unfolds. What was it like telling this kind of story while inside of it?I knew that this movie existed as hyperbolic, that this was Janicza’s interpretation. I don’t mean “interpretation” in a condescending way. But when we are processing and observing something that happened to us, there’s multiple truths. It’s Zola’s interpretation of what happened to her, Janicza’s interpretation from Zola’s brilliant writing. You living through it is different than when you’ve had time to process it and put it on Twitter. So, it’s multiple things happening at once when you’re watching it.Janicza was super clear that I’m the straight man. She treated this like a play or a comedy: there’s a straight man, and there’s a buffoon. Riley is like the minstrel in blackface. I’m observing it, so we don’t need two buffoons for us to be able to take in this type of atmosphere and react to it. You’re watching it through my eyes. So, a lot of my acting in the movie, my dialogue, is in my head.Paige said the director Janicza Bravo was protective when it came to nudity. But the actress was willing to take a chance if it was right for the story: “I don’t know what the big hoorah is around boobs and our natural bodies.”Chantal Anderson for The New York TimesI imagine it puts some pressure on you to convey the multiple layers of the story in a way that is tongue-in-cheek yet critical at the same time.It was like, “Am I doing enough?” But I get that I’m serving Zola. I’m serving Black women. White women, Black women — it’s satirical, psychological. It’s the systems in place. It’s racism. It’s on a white body. But on a Black body, you don’t really believe her. Even when she’s being gentle and tender, you’re going to question if she’s telling the truth. We’re in service of the bigger truth, the way we as Black women go through the world and the [stuff] that’s put on us. That’s why I thought it was so brilliant, because it was protective of Zola’s voice. Zola isn’t some ghetto buffoon that just went on Twitter. She was very strategic and knew exactly what she was doing and saying.“Zola” is also funny at times. Black women often use humor to protect ourselves, process things. Because of your own experiences, was it easy for you to embrace the comedic moments?I find humor in the most mundane things. Most things, even when they’re bad, are pretty funny. Like, “Wow, life is outrageous. This is ghetto.” I have “Laugh” tattooed on my arm because, man, laugh often. When you’re laughing, you’re like, “I’m still alive, I’m still here.” More

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      ‘White on White’ Review: Problematic Images

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      This striking, slow-burn portrait of a 19th-century Argentine archipelago considers a photographer’s involvement in the horrors of colonialism.Distressingly beautiful and subtly provocative, “White on White,” the slow-burn second feature from the Spanish-Chilean director Théo Court, considers the casual violence of image-making against a 19th-century backdrop of flesh-and-bones barbarism.Set in a grimly frigid and not yet fully colonized stretch of Tierra Del Fuego, Argentina’s southernmost archipelago, a photographer, Pedro (an excellent Alfredo Castro), is contracted to take wedding portraits of Miss Sara (Esther Vega Pérez Torres), a powerful landowner’s child-bride.Pleased with Pedro’s work, the landowner, Mr. Porter — a figure whose continual absence (he never appears onscreen) makes him all the more sinister — has the photographer stay to document his estate and its operations. The most powerful, after all, control the writing of their own histories.When Pedro is discovered to have secretly taken a suggestive photo of Miss Sara, however, his visit is extended indefinitely as he is absorbed into Mr. Porter’s wretched band of employees.Though the drama restages two real-life sets of photographs that inspired Court — Lewis Carroll’s perturbingly erotic portraits of prepubescent young women and the harrowing images of the explorer Julius Popper’s huntsmen standing over the bodies of slaughtered Indigenous people — “White on White” refuses to indulge in spectacular violence.Instead, Court — whose languorous pacing heightens the film’s brief, bewildering moments of action — summons an unsettling experience from relatively restrained gestures: the way Miss Sara’s sleeves are pulled down over her shoulders, delicately eroticizing her figure; a grave mound in the distance after a night of debauchery involving kidnapped Indigenous women.The cinematographer José Ángel Alayón shows us frames within frames that emphasize the limited subjectivity of Pedro’s camera — a comment on the considerations inevitably left out of any artwork — as well as long shots that capture glorious vistas shrouded in fog, both heavenly and hostile. Ultimately, these images remind us of the cruelty embedded in the striving for perfection, aesthetic or otherwise.White on WhiteNot rated. In Spanish and English, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 40 minutes. Watch on Mubi. More