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At a temple at the far ends of the earth, a committee of dogs maintain guardianship over an ancient force.
A poem about grief and the artificial, a copy of a copy of a copy, a therapeutic slow cinema meditation on solitude and the psychoanalytic and healing aspects of karaoke and all it implies, its emotional mechanics, modern art as endless duplication, the Real within the “false”. A love letter to Japan, channelling Marker and Benning into a spiritual reimagining of a Totoro hunt, a Shinto funeral rite for ghosts caught between worlds, and ideally, an antidote to Matsumoto's Atman. Featuring the Steamroom compositions of Jim O’Rourke.
An obsessive young man cast in the role of a killer in an upcoming true crime production befriends a surviving family member of the real-life events.
A summoning, cleansing and releasing ritual for the many ghosts of lutruwita.
Landscape blends with narrative through a journey of the human heart as a woman healing from trauma.
A portrait of a planet.
After a year of attempting to handwrite a personal letter to Luce Irigaray before she passes, Kyle Faulkner decided to turn it into a film instead.
Having satisfied their urge for White Castle, Harold and Kumar jump on a plane to catch up with Harold's love interest, who's headed for the Netherlands. But the pair must change their plans when Kumar is accused of being a terrorist. Rob Corddry also stars in this wild comedy sequel that follows the hapless stoners' misadventures as they try to avoid being captured by the Department of Homeland Security.
An aging Hollywood star, Joe Scott, lives a life of narcissistic hedonism, observed by his laconic personal assistant, Ophelia. The death of his childhood best friend, Boots, takes our protagonist, and the movie, into an extended flashback to a sea-side town in 1970s Britain.
Inside a darkened house looms a column of TVs littered with VHS tapes, a pagan shrine to forgotten analog gods. The screens crackle and pop endlessly with monochrome vistas of static white noise permeating the brain and fogging concentration. But you must fight the urge to relax: this is no mere movie night. Those obsolete spools contain more than just magnetic tape. They are imprinted with the very soul of evil.