Art, astronomy and even some anthropology blend in Alison McAlpine's heavenly CIELO

What a lovely and impressive mix we have here! Filmmaker Alison McAlpine has given us something unusual, beautiful and even revelatory in her new documentary, CIELO -- the word which, in Spanish, can signify either heaven or simply the sky. Chile's Atacama Desert has been used effectively in a number of documentary and narrative films, most impressively, I think, in Patricio Guzmán's Nostalgia for the Light, in which Guzmán showed us this singular location as both a haven and laboratory for astronomers and a hiding place for the remains of many of those "disappeared" under the cruel, murderous dictatorship of Chile's Augusto Pinochet.

Ms McAlpine, shown at left, does not go into Pinochet's use of this locale but sticks to astronomy, as well as anthropology, as she offers us a look at some of the folk who live and work in the desert and who prove to be every bit as interesting and worth seeing as that fabled desert and its amazing night sky (shown above and below).

These would include those astronomers, both French- and Spanish-speaking, and the local natives, some of whom who gather up kelp from the sea for their livelihood.

The filmmaker's narration is in English, but most of the rest of the dialog (from the astronomers and the native workers) is in either Spanish or French. The astronomers in particular are quite funny and charming, and their interaction is mostly delightful and occasionally profound.

We also meet an older couple of who live in the desert, and they, too, are delightful, especially when she must explain to her husband how the earth moves, along with the concept of gravity. Another younger man, above, tells us, as he prepares a meal, of his experiences in the desert, including an apparition of a young girl that appeared to him numerous times. An angel, he wonders?

Another fine fellow (above and below) dances and flies along merrily; later we see him teaching the local kids fables and myths: how a dog might help his master in the afterlife. Living in the Atacama must make one a bit crazy, at least by what most of us would consider "normal" standards. But there is no denying the joy found here. The movie is full of marvelous anthropology that seems to TrustMovies as strong as that of its astronomy.

We view some fascinating cave/rock drawings, learn about the discovery (by the Swiss) of a new planet called WASP 50, and sit in with another group of astronomers as they laugh and chat. Our filmmaker finally asks them a question: What is your true connection with the sky? The response:
"The sky nourishes us. In the sky, our imagination takes flight -- and anything is possible."

There are many questions here, but few definitive answers. No matter. For those who want to ponder ideas on life, death, connection and the universe, Cielo may be the movie for you. A Juno Films release running just 77 minutes, the film opened this past Wednesday, August 15 for only a one-week run in New York City at Film Forum, and will hit Los Angeles at Laemmle's Ahrya Fine Arts on Friday, August 24. To view other currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters, click here and scroll down.

Luca Guadagnino's lush and luscious love story, CALL ME BY YOUR NAME, enchants

As fresh, ripe, succulent and gorgeous as the peach that gets its own memorable scene in the film, CALL ME BY YOUR NAME is as good as you've probably heard, a not-to-be-missed movie for anyone who treasures Italy, beauty, and tales of first-love, longing and rapturous consummation. Adapted by James Ivory from the novel by André Aciman and directed by Luca Guadagnino (shown below) with his usual visual flair and an even greater sense, this time 'round, for character building via the slow accretion of specific, exactingly chosen moments, the film casts a spell that never once breaks.

Here are longing, lust and love as you have seldom encountered them onscreen, and one of this unusual film's great strengths lies in the fact that, despite the difference in ages of the protagonists -- one is a graduate student, the other a highly gifted teenager -- so strong, growing and genuine is the attraction and bond between them that no taint of wrong-doing hovers over the relationship. This alone is an amazing accomplishment, thanks to the work of Ivory, Guadagnino and the two terrific star turns by actors Armie Hammer (shown above and two photos below) and Timothée Chalamet (the latter, below, seen to very different but also excellent effect in Lady Bird).

The atmosphere, as seems always the case in a Guadagnino film, is highly rarefied -- wealthy, cultured and entitled -- but here, finally, the leading characters are much easier to care about and their emotions more specifically explored than are those in I Am Love or A Bigger Splash, two of this director's earlier films.

The relationship that grows between Elio Perlman (Chalamet), the son of a famous scholar and comfortably assimilated Jew (played with his usual pitch-perfect poise and uncanny character exploration by Michael Stuhlbarg, below), and Oliver (Hammer), that scholar's research assistant for the summer, is a fraught one indeed.

As happens every summer, Elio must give up his bedroom in order to house the summer's new assistant, but this year's version is clearly a bit different. Big, blond and buffed to perfection, Oliver would seem the goy of one's dreams -- except that he, too, is Jewish, if we can judge from the Star of David he wears around his perfectly formed neck.

The feint-and-parry tactics via which the relationship begins eventually give way to, first, a "truce," as Oliver puts it, below, in a move that is charming, funny and also symbolic of just how much of himself our grad student is willing to commit, and slowly to all-out passion and sexual fulfillment.

Interestingly enough, Guadagnino holds back on anything highly explicit or full-frontal and instead concentrates on the passions and emotions generated in and by the relationship. One friend of mine missed the explicit and felt the director unnecessarily held back. Yet, given the immense beauty of our antagonists' faces and bodies, of which we see plenty (despite the lack of "money" shots), the gorgeous Italian surroundings, of which we also view a great deal, and the accent on longing and attraction, it seems clear that Guadagnino is going for emotional specificity over the sexual.

Despite how very good Mr. Hammer is in his role, the movie belongs to Chalamet, through whose eyes, mind, emotions and body we experience most of what occurs. If this young actor does not get at least an Academy nomination this year, we will know that, yet again, they're asleep at the wheel. Chalamet leads us through surprise, disbelief, attraction, exploration, passion and finally grief -- with every step honestly and fully taken, including that of the betrayal of his would-be girlfriend (Esther Garrel, above, right).

As usual in budding romances, the accent is on the here-and-now rather than where the relationship might be heading. Even so, this seasonal-only affair has such built-in limits that it must clearly be one of those "summer loves." What this means to Elio and to Oliver eventually comes clear, and the movie offers a double dose of knockout endings -- one a quiet conversation between father and son, the other in which the camera simply lingers and lingers as we watch and consider.

Call Me By Your Name should take its place as of the movies' great love stories, even if it is, finally, sadly one-sided.

From Sony Pictures Classics and running two hours and twelve minutes, after opening on the coasts a couple of weeks previous, the film hits South Florida (and elsewhere across the country) this Friday, December 22. Click here and then click on GET TICKETS on the task bar at top in order to find the theater(s) nearest you.

The Holocaust: a beautiful, contemplative view in Marina Willer's doc, RED TREES

Marina Willer, shown below, the director and co-writer of RED TREES, is a designer by trade, and this skill is on view almost constantly in her new documentary about her father, Alfred, and his boyhood in Czechoslovakia during World War II, which has been expanded from a shorter film Ms Willer made earlier. This Jewish family, we learn in the course of the movie, was one of only twelve in Prague that managed to survive Hitler's and his Nazi's onslaught that resulted in the Jewish Holocaust. Alfred's memories are given voice by the late Tim Piggot-Smith.

Willer's film is foremost a visual treat, with some ravishing scenes of everything from foliage to factories shown in stunning color and/or composition. The filmmaker, shown at left, has taken her title from her father's childhood experience in discovering that the was color blind: He drew his trees in red rather than green.

In addition to the great beauty of her film, Red Trees is distinguished by its contemplative view of Holocaust memory, as well as by its originality. I can think of few films on this subject that come at it from anything like this perspective. (The great narrative film, Fateless, has a contemplative quality, but its engine is powered much more strongly by drama, incident, anger and compassion than is the engine of this film.)

In fact, this contemplative quality -- together with writing that occasionally seems more than a bit obvious and the viewpoint of the narrator (above) that is never questioned though it elides much and leaves out ever more --  finally turns the film into something less incisive and compelling than it might have been. Marina explains that, for years, she had not known about any of her father's history because, as did so many Holocaust survivors, he preferred to hold so much of it inside.

We understand how and why Alfred's father was kept alive by the Nazi -- his skills in chemistry was of use to the Germans -- but not how Alfred himself managed to stay alive. Since literally everyone else Jewish who was connected to the pair -- friends, family, co-workers -- were murdered or committed suicide, Alfred was certainly one lucky young man. (Perhaps we missed some of the heavily-accented English dialog along the way.)

There are a number specific details I garnered from the film that I had not known previously. Among other restrictions, Jews were not allowed to drive, so that family had to rid itself of it automobile. All along the way, Alfred ticks off one after another victim of the Holocaust, without giving us much detail of anything or anyone. He has already told us several times, "You learn not to look." Then finally he adds, "but you never forget."

Interestingly, the movie itself does little except look -- at the great beauty and/or fascinating design it finds all around and even in memory. But it never really probes, leaving us with a narrator who may or may not be particularly reliable, though he is certainly interesting. Eventually, post-war, the family relocates to Brazil, a country the filmmaker extols for how diverse and welcoming it is. Diversity? Yes. Equality? Not so much.

From Cohen Media Group and running a relatively brief 82 minutes, Red Trees opens this Friday, September 15, in New York City (at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema and the Quad Cinema), in Los Angeles (at various Laemmle theaters) and elsewhere. To view all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters, click here and then scroll down.

Beauty in desolation: Nikolaus Geyrhalter's exquisite photographic study, HOMO SAPIENS

Our species appears nowhere in Nikolaus Geyrhalter's brilliant and breathtakingly beautiful, if ironically titled documentary, HOMO SAPIENS, yet our mark is all over the place. In this, the latest film from Herr Geyrhalter, who has already given us a couple of whoppingly good docs -- Our Daily Bread and Abenland -- the Austrian filmmaker who conceived, directed and shot this stunning piece of work (with the prodigious help of Simon Graf in scouting the amazing locations used here) has compiled a series of what could almost be -- were it not for the occasional wind, waves and birds -- still-life photography of empty, desolate but stunning exteriors, interiors and sometimes a combo of the two in which nature seems to be re-enforcing her domain on ours.

The filmmaker, pictured at right, lets his camera remain stationary as it gazes at scene after scene, location after location, for anywhere from 15 to 30-or-more seconds. This gives the viewer ample time to take it all in. And how very much there is to take. Geyrhalter is an artist. His compositions are wonderful: rich and detailed, forcing us to observe closely, think about what we're seeing, then make all kinds of connections.

We go from a gorgeous, decrepit amphitheatre to a deserted (for quite some length of time, it seems) railway station and shopping mall (in Japan, perhaps? The writing we see would indicate somewhere Asian) to an auditorium or two, hospitals, even a roller coaster seemingly positioned in the sea. The locations are bizarre and amazing, and the cinematography is, too. Yet it is not simply beautiful (that might very well be enough), it is also about as artful and thoughtful as photography can get.

There is no dialog here, no sound save the ambient ones: wind, gulls cawing, pigeons cooing, Music? You know, I cannot now remember. The movie was that hypnotic. But yet I never felt sleepy in the least. I would imagine that photography buffs will make a bee line for the documentary, which opens this week in New York City at Anthology Film Archives.

Although there is great beauty here (and Geyrhalter seems incapable of not zeroing in on it with simplicity, always capturing the right composition, angle and even color (or lack of it). He finds his beauty in desolation, and this is the way in which he gets us to considering what homo sapiens have to do with all this. How did the hospital room (above) come into such disrepair, for example? Was that empty shopping mall too near Fukushima? (One of these malls may be closer to the USA, as it bears the name Woodville.)

A house of religion is just as likely to have emptied out as has the mall. Or a prison. Or an office, below, full of aged computers. For me the most beautiful shots of all seems to have been taken in an empty planetarium. Even a greenhouse has gone to seed. The movie offers its own special pacing and an odd kind of momentum. There's dark humor, too: in the loudspeakers atop poles wrapped in vines (or in the winter, snow). Interestingly, the shots taken in the desert seem not as memorable as the others (the desert is already desolate, right?). Ditto the wintertime scenes, where snow can more easily mask the desolation.

And then we've come full circle, back to that original amphitheater. What a journey! Perhaps I missed them, but I tried to check the credits for a listing of locations where the movie was filmed. I am pretty sure Japan, Germany (or Austria) and the USA are among them -- and maybe other countries, too. Whatever, Herr Geyrhalter has graced us with one wonderful documentary that photo buffs will eventually want to own on disc. Unless some enterprising publisher thinks to put out the coffee-table book version.

From KimStim and running 94 minutes (TrustMovies could have watched another hour of it, at least), Homo Sapiens opens this Friday, July 29, at Anthology Film Archives in New York City for a week's run. Elsewhere? There's is nothing as yet on the KimStim site to indicate further showings. But I would hope an eventual DVD or Blu-ray is in the offing.

Best Foreign Language Film nominee (and maybe winner?) -- Abderrahmane Sissako's TIMBUKTU

TrustMovies hasn't yet seen Estonia's Tangerines nor Argentina's Wild Tales, but of the three BFLF Oscar nominees he has seen -- including the beautifully photographed but terribly obvious Ida and the tell-us-again-how-corrupt-and-bullying-modern-Russia can-be Leviathan -- Mauritania's small-scale but gorgeous and engrossing TIMBUKTU by veteran director Abderrahmane Sissako is by far the best. It shows us things we have not previously seen, especially what the incursion of Islam fundamentalists into a town in Africa means to its inhabitants (rather than what this kind of fundamentalism might do to our own western sensibility), and it does this in a manner that is thought-provoking, comic, sad and, yes, frustrating. This film is also remarkably beautiful to watch.

Mr. Sissako, shown at left, is able to weave several stories together loosely but mindfully, so that we follow both the "soldiers of god" and the inhabitants they seek to control. We see the lives of these people as they were but may be no more, and view the innate beauty of both place and person, while also noticing some of the flaws that even the dearest of the inhabi-tants possess. There is no doubt with whom the filmmaker sympathizes but he's too smart a guy to pretend that one side is perfect and the other perfectly awful. He allows us to view and even under-stand every character's viewpoint -- as ridiculous as this sometimes can be.

In the opening scene what looks to me like a gazelle races gracefully across the African plain pursued by soldiers shooting at it in an open jeep. We fear for that gazelle, but then a commanding voice says, "Don't kill it, just tire it out." (Isn't this the goal of fundamentalism?) And then we meet various characters at work and at leisure -- both of which will very soon change by becoming "against god" and therefore suddenly illegal.

A man who owns some cattle relaxes in a tent with wife and daughter. When he must leave for awhile, one of those soldiers drives up and clearly has intentions toward the wife. "Why do you only come here when my husband is gone?" she asks, and he is shamed into leaving.

In the craziest/silliest bit of religious nonsense, a woman selling fish is told she must wear gloves, while men must roll up their pant-legs. A mosque is visited while celebrants are at prayer, and the soldiers are reminded that they are in a house of god. Of course, they know this and so back off -- at least for a bit.

But then, in Sissako's boldest and smartest movie, a collision occurs that the soldiers have nothing to do with. While slaking their thirst in the river, the cattle of our very contented fellow break into the nets of a local fisherman, who has previously warned the young boy who tends those cattle. A spear is thrown and suddenly everything changes.

More than anything else, Timbuktu is about justice -- and its quicksilver elusivity. It is also about how we try so hard to get around whatever stands in the way of what we imagine to be that justice, whether this means playing football, which has now been banned, with an imaginary ball, or singing songs that may possibly squeak by because they have a religious meaning, after music, too, has been outlawed.

If I'm not mistaken, I believe I noticed in the thank-you's a nod to Elia Suleiman. This shouldn't be surprising, as the two filmmakers have subtlety, style and an inquiring mind in common. Both hope to understand conflicting viewpoints while already understanding how difficult this can be.

But it is the attempt that counts -- particularly when that attempt is so utterly beautiful to view and finally so sorrowful to contemplate. Sissako's finale is a continuous piece of filmmaking that holds you breathless -- until it suddenly leaves you lost in media res.

Timbuktu -- from Cohen Media Group, running just 97 vital minutes and spoken in five different languages, including English (with subtitles when not) -- opens this coming Wednesday, January 28, in New York City (at Film Forum and Lincoln Plaza Cinema) and in Los Angeles (at Laemmle's Royal) on Friday, January 30, and then at other Laemmle theaters in the weeks following.

Uberto Pasolini's profound, magical STILL LIFE: Has the best film of 2015 appeared already?

There were only two of us at last week's press screening of STILL LIFE -- it was a particularly cold, bleak winter's day -- and both of us were in tears by the film's amazing ending. As the lights came up, post-credits, the other fellow seemed taken aback. "Who is this Uberto Pasolini?" (the film's writer/director), he asked, and then quickly followed with, "Because nothing is his past history gives any indication that he could create this!"

Well, the man did produce the Award-winning and immensely popular, The Full Monty nearly twenty years ago, and he was involved with a few other pleasant little movies along the way. Still Life is only his second film as writer/director -- after something called Machan which I have not seen -- but if he does nothing else in his entire life, this film is enough to ensure Pasolini's place (the filmmaker is shown at left) in the pantheon of movie greats. Why? Because he has taken a grand and important subject, death -- and thus life and its meaning, at least for those of us living in western society today -- and explored it in an immac-ulate, moving, insightful and profound manner. The result is a humble little film that works on every level, and that will leave you in a state of grace.

His movie begins at a funeral. And then another. And another. These are empty of any mourners save one -- the fellow who actually organized the funeral, a British public servant named John May, whose job it is to try to find any relatives and or friends of those in the population who have lately died alone. As played by the great British everyman, Eddie Marsan (shown above and below), who may here be giving his finest performance from a versatile flock of them, this strange and obsessive man may be the most memorable character you've met in several movie years.

John May is as methodical and fastidious as the movie is quiet and assured. From the manner in which he collects and stores photos of the many deceased citizens he serves to the way he crosses the street, every-thing he does is careful and coordinated, and Marsan is a joy to observe: funny and so sadly human. He lives a life of stillness -- one indication of the movie's title -- and Pasolini captures this in truly wondrous ways.

May seems to have no family nor friends of his own, but his interactions with all the folk he meets are lovely and kind, never pushing, but always encouraging. Due to both downsizing and the great amount of time he spends on each new case, John is soon to be out of a job. His last case, however, so tweaks his concern that he must follow it through -- even if this is done on his own time and dollar (or, in this case, pound). Where this latest situation leads him, and us, is into a whole new level of engagement.

Along the way, the movie -- which knows all about the life of the lonely and how they manage -- covers everything from the way in which animals fill our need for love and connection to how even angry, short-tempered people can manage to form a bond with others.

Signore Pasolini's storytelling skills are fluent, while his sense of visual style is simply stunning. Frame after beautiful frame seems like still life photos given enormous immediacy and feeling via the talented cast the filmmaker has assembled. The movie is a kind of mystery -- initially regarding what is happening and why and then about how our hero will finally piece together all he needs to find the friends and/or family of this final case.

Chief among the actors is the recent Golden Globe award-winner Joanne Froggat, above and above, as a young woman who figures into the last case (she is, as usual, wonderfully compassionate and winning) and Andrew Buchan as May's immediate boss, who fills the bill perfectly as a man who understands the need for efficiency but has not an empathetic bone in his body.

Still Life builds and builds, but always quietly and gently, until it reaches its stunning conclusion. And just when you imagine that you have experienced and understood its meaning and concerns, Pasolini pulls a kind of coup de cinéma that reaches right into you, probing the deepest part of your spirit and mind, leaving you amazed, moved, chastened and spent. It's like nothing I've yet experienced on the screen. It left me literally sobbing -- for what we've just seen, of course -- but also for the whole of humanity: the wonders of life, and connection, and death.

From Tribeca Film and running just 93 minutes, the movie opens this Friday at New York City's Quad Cinema  and in Geneva, New York, at the Smith Center for the Arts.  In the weeks to come it will open in another dozen cities around the country. Click here and then scroll down to see the list of playdates and theaters.