PLOT:
TUYA'S MARRIAGE is the indelible portrait of a strong woman determined to save her family, herself and her husband from separation, starvation and possibly worse circumstances.
Set in the remote inner Mongolian grassland, TUYA (Nan Yu,)is the iron-willed wife of Bater, a herdsman who has been paralyzed. Tuya takes up the sole responsibility to make a living for her family, but her hard labor endangers her health. The solution to their harsh reality is for Tuya to get divorced and remarried to a man willing to take on the responsibility of her children, her husband and tending their herdland the sole source of their livelihood.
Tuya is shown to be a strong-minded, stubborn, but gentle woman whose principles and her love for her family including her husband guide her decisions in life.
The Mongolian setting, the life style so different from our own, adds an element to the quirky plot that keeps the viewer enthralled as this determined mother/wife and woman bring the elements of modern day feminist's desire into reality.
Wrenching and beautiful: educational and empowering:. I recommend this film whole heartedly
Tuya's Marriage Open April 4, 2008
LindaZ
WBAI Women's Collective
AGORA: Dragged from her chariot by a mob of fanatical vigilante Christian monks, the revered astronomer was stripped naked, skinned to her bones with sharp oyster shells, stoned and burned alive as possibly the first executed witch in history. A kind of purge that was apparently big business back then.
.jpg)
3/25/08
The Favor: Written and directed by Eva Aridjis,
The Favor(2006) is an intimate family drama about a working class, middle age man
Lawrence Hull(Tony award winner Frank Wood, The Royal Tenenbaums) whose intimate knowledge of closeness seems limited to the companionship he enjoys with his little dog Lucy until he elects to make his girlfriend of years ago orphaned sixteen year old troubled adolescent son, Johnny(Ryan Donowho OC, Broken Flowers, A Home at the End of the World) his foster child.
This is a powerfully acted and emotionally accurate film with attention to details often omitted in films where success is counted in making money and being the best student, the shining light real parents seldom enjoy during the trying adolescent years. The unforeseen lessons, the moments of learning to know and accept one another are brought to the fore with skillful depiction. Much of the power of the film is in the understatement of the obvious, the simplicity of scene. It is a film where the less said the more is implied with great success and it ends not with doom or gloom or dramatic events. It ends simply with a statment of hope:
Where love prevails so do we.
I recommend this film as a must see moment to be enjoyed by parents and their children, alone or as a family
Linda Z
WBAI Women's Collective
The Favor will open for an exclusive engagement on May 2, 2008 at Quad Cinema, located at 34 West 13th Street in New York City.
The film premiered at the CineVegas Film Festival in June 2006
Lawrence Hull(Tony award winner Frank Wood, The Royal Tenenbaums) whose intimate knowledge of closeness seems limited to the companionship he enjoys with his little dog Lucy until he elects to make his girlfriend of years ago orphaned sixteen year old troubled adolescent son, Johnny(Ryan Donowho OC, Broken Flowers, A Home at the End of the World) his foster child.
This is a powerfully acted and emotionally accurate film with attention to details often omitted in films where success is counted in making money and being the best student, the shining light real parents seldom enjoy during the trying adolescent years. The unforeseen lessons, the moments of learning to know and accept one another are brought to the fore with skillful depiction. Much of the power of the film is in the understatement of the obvious, the simplicity of scene. It is a film where the less said the more is implied with great success and it ends not with doom or gloom or dramatic events. It ends simply with a statment of hope:
Where love prevails so do we.
I recommend this film as a must see moment to be enjoyed by parents and their children, alone or as a family
Linda Z
WBAI Women's Collective
The Favor will open for an exclusive engagement on May 2, 2008 at Quad Cinema, located at 34 West 13th Street in New York City.
The film premiered at the CineVegas Film Festival in June 2006
3/16/08
Wings Of Defeat: Military Machismo As Assisted Suicide
By Prairie Miller
It's nearly a given that Americans learn most about 'history' at the movies, not in the classrooms. And where more often than not, there's always one side to every story. So it's no surprise that people in this country believe that the WW II Japanese kamikaze pilots who deliberately flew their planes into US naval warships, were simply crazed, screaming fanatics trying to impress their emperor. Risa Morimoto's very personal yet historically complex documentary, Wings Of Defeat, sheds a very different light on those young men, some of whom are still alive to tell their quite sad and compelling story.
Morimoto has crafted Wings Of Defeat not only as a cinematic inquiry, but as someone who has an intimate, tragic connection to those times. Though born and raised in New York City, Morimoto discovered only recently that she's the niece of a kamikaze pilot who died twenty years ago in Japan. For the secrecy and embarrassment that exists in connection with those thousands of kamikazes, hundreds of whom survived because they were still in training when the war ended, is not unlike the silence that shrouds the Vietnam War era here in the US.
And so Morimoto made the painful journey to Japan to discover through her film, the mystery surrounding her late uncle's life along with the other pilots. Her inquiry is penetrating and also balanced, as she allows surviving elderly kamikazes, family members of those who were killed, and sailors who were aboard those targeted US ships, a shared spotlight in her film. And it is her initial hope that as an outsider, she can ease the sting of recollection.
While the US veterans are puzzled that the kamikaze pilots would readily give up their lives - several even confessing that they didn't have the heart to shoot them down - while the Americans were fighting for their own survival, the former kamikazes themselves and these families have far greater difficulty expressing their opinions or feelings. In fact, some are speaking about the subject for the first time ever in their lives, to the camera rather than to their own spouses or children. A profound survivors' guilt also hovers in the air, along with chronic despair and buried pain, wherever Morimoto makes her rounds.
And it's not just about the collective shame of being vanquished in a war. What comes to light through Wings Of Defeat, is a military brutality that forced most of these young men to sacrifice their lives. Many were in fact as young as fifteen and sixteen years old, dragged out of their schools, plied full of sake wine, and given a one way ticket so to speak - that is, not enough plane fuel for a return ride - and sent on their way. In effect, those boys not old enough to legally drink or drive, were ironically forced to do both out of obedience to patriotic duty.
Some were beaten and starved into submission, while others were pressured into believing that they were saving their countrymen, who would otherwise be massacred by the poised US invaders. One survivor recalls how a fellow pilot went on his mission only after learning that his young wife had flung herself and their two children into a river, so he wouldn't have to endure the suffering of knowing that he was leaving them behind. Another shows Morimoto his 'funeral portrait' taken just before he was supposed to fly on his own mission. He remembers that everyone was 'dying on the inside' but kept smiling. His parents and sons had never before heard him speak a word of what he describes as a grim time.
What is also striking on a more political level, is the similarity of language contained in the war rhetoric, that continues to be echoed today as rationalization for foreign aggression. The Japanese government so effectively persuaded the country to rally behind the war effort, because they insisted they were pushing Western imperialism out of Asia and 'liberating' Asian countries from US tyranny and predatory designs. And the kamikaze assaults, which were not implemented until late in the war, rather than a novel military tactic, were simply last acts of desperation, as Japan itself metaphorically nosedived into its own demise. That is, when fuel and supplies had nearly run out, and human beings as bombs became a military weapon of last resort.
The numerous melancholy threads of Wings Of Defeat come together in the end with an unanticipated inspirational optimism. Morimoto is saddened about her uncle, but relieved to discover that he was set up to be martyred by his country, not for them. And while the family sweeps and washes his grave during a visit to the cemetery, one elderly former kamikaze feels a renewed determination to fight for permanent peace on an otherwise doomed planet, while expressing a desire to meet those American sailors in the film who had spared his comrades.
Wings Of Defeat is an exemplary scrutiny of the emotional and psychological manifestations of patriotism. And a candid and bold challenge to the whole notion of preconceptions and stereotypes.
Wings Of Defeat will be screened at the Japan Society in New York City on March 18th, and at Georgetown University in Washington DC on March 19th. More information is online at: wingsofdefeat.com.
Edgewood Pictures
4 stars
Prairie Miller
The Death of Mr. Lazarescu
2005/DVD 2006
Director: Cristi Puiu
Cast: Luminita Gheorghiu, Ion Fiscuteanu, Daru Ana
Review by Nancy Keefe Rhodes
Both films are about unwanted teen pregnancy, but there’s no mistaking the new and widely respected Romanian film, 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days – which has just briefly played at Manlius Cinema – with Juno. That mere blink of an eye in which Ellen Page’s chatty teen-ager considers and dismisses the possibility of abortion? Cristian Mungiu’s film is all about that “option” as it played out in 1987, in the depths of Nicolae Ceauşescu’s dysfunctional regime, two years before the dictator’s own bloody demise. Mungiu’s film is harrowing and in one late section, when the student roommate, a soberingly indomitable young woman, is traversing some dark alleys and stairwells to dispose of her friend’s fetus, you find yourself filled with dread, for her safety and really for the well-being of us all.
Inscrutably passed over for Oscar nomination – much to the consternation and surprise of numerous reviewers – Mungiu’s film is part of the surge of new Romanian cinema that came to our attention several years ago with Cristi Puiu’s The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2005). Mungiu uses the same cinematographer, Oleg Mutu, so both films have a similar look and feel – there’s the strange sensation of events on the brink of chaos that a camera has locked onto, as if only the shoot itself holds things together. And again, there’s a female performance and character of understated yet profound humanity. Luminita Gheorghiu’s portrayal of Mioara Avram, the nurse-paramedic who accompanies Dante Lazarescu (Ion Fiscuteanu) on his final night’s journey through four different city hospital emergency rooms, is itself reason enough to rent this movie.
Red-haired and a little blowsy, in her mid-50s, smoking whenever she can and bothered all night by her own gall-bladder pain (nasty, by the way, especially when your job entails hauling heavy bodies around through a night shift in a cold, lurching ambulance), Mioara arrives at Lazarescu’s dismal high-rise at ten o’clock on a late October Saturday night. He has a terrific headache, his stomach hurts, he smells of alcohol and he vomits several times.
Lazarescu has three cats whom the neighbor’s wife hates and you know will not be safe in his absence. He has a busy sister in another city who wants his pension check and a married daughter in Toronto, and lost his wife eight years ago. His gentle neighbor, Sandu (Daru Ana), is so huge he must stoop, emphasizing how tiny Lazarescu’s flat is. Focused, patient, fairly astute medically, Mioara decides Lazarescu must indeed go with her, but first she’s tempted – like every over-worked medical person he encounters – to dismiss his pains as drunkenness.
A huge accident in which a bus carrying children crashes complicates their journey. That carnage overwhelms all the hospitals ahead of them. At St. Spiridon, one doctor calls Lazarescu “you pig” for requesting more courteous treatment. At University Hospital, a morose figure in a flowing black cape meets the ambulance in the parking lot with, “Please go away.” At Filaret Hospital, doctors determine Lazarescu needs surgery after wasting long moments chastising Mioara for challenging their authority by suggesting it. At Bagdasar Hospital, near the end of the night shift, he’s finally prepped for surgery.
Along the way, Lazarescu deteriorates, wets himself, begins to speak deliriously, lapses into coma just before dawn. He’s stripped, washed, his torso draped with a clean sheet. An aide pats his newly shaved skull, calls him “Handsome.” Instead of leaving him at any number of acceptable junctures, Mioara sticks by him, even defends him, touches him from time to time with a reflex that finally becomes tender. They exchange the kind of personal details, largely at Lazarescu’s persistent prompting – Mioara says early on, “This one likes to chat” – that make it hard to see another as an object and send out for croissants, as one doctor does, before his gurney’s out the door.
With great economy, Puiu provides the weary emergency room staffs through whose hands Lazarescu passes with enough traits that they light up for their few moments as individuals. The first physician who lectures and derides Lazarescu wears a haughty pompadour. One young doctor’s constant cracking of his chewing gum somehow summarizes his youth and energy. One woman physician secures a needed test for Lazarescu by tapping into her supervisor’s amorous intentions, while at the next stop the model-glamorous blond doctor – she of the croissants – is locked in a power-fueled stalemate with her male superior that poisons every interaction in their vicinity like fall-out. The aides who finally wash Lazarescu’s body, unlike many of the previous younger women, are older, heavier, their thick hands and waists evoking some rural village where the women wash the dead for burial.
All these deft minor strokes evoke another, more classical journey through the underworld also famously peopled by vivid cameos. Puiu brackets his film early and late with this defining reference, identifying his main character’s full name as “Dante Remus Lazarescu” and the orderly called at the closing to “take him across” as Virgil. Puiu says he also called on the series ER for ambiance and background of a different sort – it’s a favorite of his, serialized on Romanian TV.
After a boatload of international prizes and US DVD release in 2006, this film has not done terribly well here, perhaps because of misguided marketing as an “acclaimed black comedy.” The DVD contains the US trailer with its hyper-edited snatches of dialogue and shots that create a wholly misleading slapstick impression. But Puiu says Romanian audiences did laugh at initial festival screenings, which he allows “surprised” him. If the film at Manlius is no Juno, this one isn’t The Bucket List either. Based on a real incident in which an ambulance visited six Bucharest hospitals in one night – Puiu says the repetition provided a structure that let him explore variations – this launches six films that will portray kinds of love. Puiu starts that series with “love of humanity.” Comedy, yes - but of the divine sort.
*******
This review appeared in the 3/13/08 issue of the Syracuse City Eagle weekly, where “Make it Snappy” is a regular column reviewing DVDs of recent movies that did not open theatrically in CNY & older films of enduring worth.
2005/DVD 2006
Director: Cristi Puiu
Cast: Luminita Gheorghiu, Ion Fiscuteanu, Daru Ana
Review by Nancy Keefe Rhodes
Both films are about unwanted teen pregnancy, but there’s no mistaking the new and widely respected Romanian film, 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days – which has just briefly played at Manlius Cinema – with Juno. That mere blink of an eye in which Ellen Page’s chatty teen-ager considers and dismisses the possibility of abortion? Cristian Mungiu’s film is all about that “option” as it played out in 1987, in the depths of Nicolae Ceauşescu’s dysfunctional regime, two years before the dictator’s own bloody demise. Mungiu’s film is harrowing and in one late section, when the student roommate, a soberingly indomitable young woman, is traversing some dark alleys and stairwells to dispose of her friend’s fetus, you find yourself filled with dread, for her safety and really for the well-being of us all.
Inscrutably passed over for Oscar nomination – much to the consternation and surprise of numerous reviewers – Mungiu’s film is part of the surge of new Romanian cinema that came to our attention several years ago with Cristi Puiu’s The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2005). Mungiu uses the same cinematographer, Oleg Mutu, so both films have a similar look and feel – there’s the strange sensation of events on the brink of chaos that a camera has locked onto, as if only the shoot itself holds things together. And again, there’s a female performance and character of understated yet profound humanity. Luminita Gheorghiu’s portrayal of Mioara Avram, the nurse-paramedic who accompanies Dante Lazarescu (Ion Fiscuteanu) on his final night’s journey through four different city hospital emergency rooms, is itself reason enough to rent this movie.
Red-haired and a little blowsy, in her mid-50s, smoking whenever she can and bothered all night by her own gall-bladder pain (nasty, by the way, especially when your job entails hauling heavy bodies around through a night shift in a cold, lurching ambulance), Mioara arrives at Lazarescu’s dismal high-rise at ten o’clock on a late October Saturday night. He has a terrific headache, his stomach hurts, he smells of alcohol and he vomits several times.
Lazarescu has three cats whom the neighbor’s wife hates and you know will not be safe in his absence. He has a busy sister in another city who wants his pension check and a married daughter in Toronto, and lost his wife eight years ago. His gentle neighbor, Sandu (Daru Ana), is so huge he must stoop, emphasizing how tiny Lazarescu’s flat is. Focused, patient, fairly astute medically, Mioara decides Lazarescu must indeed go with her, but first she’s tempted – like every over-worked medical person he encounters – to dismiss his pains as drunkenness.
A huge accident in which a bus carrying children crashes complicates their journey. That carnage overwhelms all the hospitals ahead of them. At St. Spiridon, one doctor calls Lazarescu “you pig” for requesting more courteous treatment. At University Hospital, a morose figure in a flowing black cape meets the ambulance in the parking lot with, “Please go away.” At Filaret Hospital, doctors determine Lazarescu needs surgery after wasting long moments chastising Mioara for challenging their authority by suggesting it. At Bagdasar Hospital, near the end of the night shift, he’s finally prepped for surgery.
Along the way, Lazarescu deteriorates, wets himself, begins to speak deliriously, lapses into coma just before dawn. He’s stripped, washed, his torso draped with a clean sheet. An aide pats his newly shaved skull, calls him “Handsome.” Instead of leaving him at any number of acceptable junctures, Mioara sticks by him, even defends him, touches him from time to time with a reflex that finally becomes tender. They exchange the kind of personal details, largely at Lazarescu’s persistent prompting – Mioara says early on, “This one likes to chat” – that make it hard to see another as an object and send out for croissants, as one doctor does, before his gurney’s out the door.
With great economy, Puiu provides the weary emergency room staffs through whose hands Lazarescu passes with enough traits that they light up for their few moments as individuals. The first physician who lectures and derides Lazarescu wears a haughty pompadour. One young doctor’s constant cracking of his chewing gum somehow summarizes his youth and energy. One woman physician secures a needed test for Lazarescu by tapping into her supervisor’s amorous intentions, while at the next stop the model-glamorous blond doctor – she of the croissants – is locked in a power-fueled stalemate with her male superior that poisons every interaction in their vicinity like fall-out. The aides who finally wash Lazarescu’s body, unlike many of the previous younger women, are older, heavier, their thick hands and waists evoking some rural village where the women wash the dead for burial.
All these deft minor strokes evoke another, more classical journey through the underworld also famously peopled by vivid cameos. Puiu brackets his film early and late with this defining reference, identifying his main character’s full name as “Dante Remus Lazarescu” and the orderly called at the closing to “take him across” as Virgil. Puiu says he also called on the series ER for ambiance and background of a different sort – it’s a favorite of his, serialized on Romanian TV.
After a boatload of international prizes and US DVD release in 2006, this film has not done terribly well here, perhaps because of misguided marketing as an “acclaimed black comedy.” The DVD contains the US trailer with its hyper-edited snatches of dialogue and shots that create a wholly misleading slapstick impression. But Puiu says Romanian audiences did laugh at initial festival screenings, which he allows “surprised” him. If the film at Manlius is no Juno, this one isn’t The Bucket List either. Based on a real incident in which an ambulance visited six Bucharest hospitals in one night – Puiu says the repetition provided a structure that let him explore variations – this launches six films that will portray kinds of love. Puiu starts that series with “love of humanity.” Comedy, yes - but of the divine sort.
*******
This review appeared in the 3/13/08 issue of the Syracuse City Eagle weekly, where “Make it Snappy” is a regular column reviewing DVDs of recent movies that did not open theatrically in CNY & older films of enduring worth.
3/15/08
Disgusted About Sexism In Film Criticism: WFCC Women Interviewed
Congratulations to the WFCC women who were interviewed in the Friday Union-Tribune article about the disgusting sexism in the male-dominated movie criticism field, after U-T columnist David Coddon approached the Women Film Critics Circle. And thank you to all who responded. Here's the article and link:
FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH | DAVID L. CODDON
Sexist remark shines a light on shortage of female film critics
SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE
March 14, 2008
The negative review of “The Other Boleyn Girl” that appeared in the Feb. 29 Currents Weekend began this way: “What is the point of a bodice-ripper starring an actress who – how can we put this politely? – doesn't have much to offer in the decolletage department?”
That same day, a female colleague on the U-T features editing team who'd seen “The Other Boleyn Girl” and liked it told me she could tell from that very first sentence that the review had been written by a man. She was right.
It was written not by a Union-Tribune staff member, but by a critic whose review was plucked from the Associated Press wire. I did the plucking. I'm sorry I did. It was a stupid, sexist way to open a critique of “The Other Boleyn Girl.”
Then I started wondering why there are so few female film critics, especially on major newspaper staffs (including this one). Searching for insight, I discovered the Women Film Critics Circle, which dubs itself the “First National Association of Women Critics.” I contacted several of its members and tapped their brains.
“There are a lot of male editors and men in management positions,” said Felicia Feaster, one of two critics (the other is a man) at the alternative weekly Creative Loafing in Atlanta. “I don't think it's seen as essential to have a female voice on that particular beat.
“It's ironic to me because one of the most famous film critics ever was Pauline Kael (of The New Yorker), who was so influential. What's her legacy? There's no one who has that kind of role now.”
Feaster said there are more female voices in the alternative press, but even there, film is a male-dominated beat. “It's unfortunate because women sometimes bring a completely different point of view to films.”
Fellow WFCC member Mary Garcia in New York City writes reviews for the trade pub Film Journal International and for The Progressive. Garcia suggested that “The male voice of authority is still with us. When I was in film school, one of the reasons women weren't trusted behind the camera was because we couldn't carry one. So the men used to say, 'You can try, but why don't you do continuity?' We grew up with that.”
Still, Garcia cautions that having “more women's voices doesn't necessarily guarantee less bias.”
In fact, Nancy Keefe Rhodes in Syracuse, N.Y., who covers film and visual arts for MovieCrossRhodes.blogspot.com, said that some WFCC members “are on the radio, some are online, some are in weekly papers. I don't think there are quite as few of us (female critics) as you might think.”
Do men and women look at a film differently?
“Inevitably, I do look at many films as a woman,” Rhodes said. “Certainly, men have a male perspective, too. I want to be able to review films that everybody makes for all kinds of audiences.”
As online journalism overtakes print, more people – men and women – will be reviewing more and more films. Sadly, though, the line between legitimate criticism and mindless blogging is sure to blur. Film “reviews” may become the first cell phone call or text message one friend makes to another as he or she walks out of the screening. While it can, the printed word must give moviegoers credibility – and it takes the printed words of both genders to do that.
[http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/features/20080314-99
99-1c14closeupm.html]
Women Film Critics Circle: wfcc.wordpress.com
Critical Women On Film: Journal of the Women Film Critics Circle - criticalwoman.blogspot.com
FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH | DAVID L. CODDON
Sexist remark shines a light on shortage of female film critics
SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE
March 14, 2008
The negative review of “The Other Boleyn Girl” that appeared in the Feb. 29 Currents Weekend began this way: “What is the point of a bodice-ripper starring an actress who – how can we put this politely? – doesn't have much to offer in the decolletage department?”
That same day, a female colleague on the U-T features editing team who'd seen “The Other Boleyn Girl” and liked it told me she could tell from that very first sentence that the review had been written by a man. She was right.
It was written not by a Union-Tribune staff member, but by a critic whose review was plucked from the Associated Press wire. I did the plucking. I'm sorry I did. It was a stupid, sexist way to open a critique of “The Other Boleyn Girl.”
Then I started wondering why there are so few female film critics, especially on major newspaper staffs (including this one). Searching for insight, I discovered the Women Film Critics Circle, which dubs itself the “First National Association of Women Critics.” I contacted several of its members and tapped their brains.
“There are a lot of male editors and men in management positions,” said Felicia Feaster, one of two critics (the other is a man) at the alternative weekly Creative Loafing in Atlanta. “I don't think it's seen as essential to have a female voice on that particular beat.
“It's ironic to me because one of the most famous film critics ever was Pauline Kael (of The New Yorker), who was so influential. What's her legacy? There's no one who has that kind of role now.”
Feaster said there are more female voices in the alternative press, but even there, film is a male-dominated beat. “It's unfortunate because women sometimes bring a completely different point of view to films.”
Fellow WFCC member Mary Garcia in New York City writes reviews for the trade pub Film Journal International and for The Progressive. Garcia suggested that “The male voice of authority is still with us. When I was in film school, one of the reasons women weren't trusted behind the camera was because we couldn't carry one. So the men used to say, 'You can try, but why don't you do continuity?' We grew up with that.”
Still, Garcia cautions that having “more women's voices doesn't necessarily guarantee less bias.”
In fact, Nancy Keefe Rhodes in Syracuse, N.Y., who covers film and visual arts for MovieCrossRhodes.blogspot.com, said that some WFCC members “are on the radio, some are online, some are in weekly papers. I don't think there are quite as few of us (female critics) as you might think.”
Do men and women look at a film differently?
“Inevitably, I do look at many films as a woman,” Rhodes said. “Certainly, men have a male perspective, too. I want to be able to review films that everybody makes for all kinds of audiences.”
As online journalism overtakes print, more people – men and women – will be reviewing more and more films. Sadly, though, the line between legitimate criticism and mindless blogging is sure to blur. Film “reviews” may become the first cell phone call or text message one friend makes to another as he or she walks out of the screening. While it can, the printed word must give moviegoers credibility – and it takes the printed words of both genders to do that.
[http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/features/20080314-99
99-1c14closeupm.html]
Women Film Critics Circle: wfcc.wordpress.com
Critical Women On Film: Journal of the Women Film Critics Circle - criticalwoman.blogspot.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
