Category: Film

Film by Ezekiel Yu
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A still from Christopher Nolan's "Memento" (2000), depicting a shirtless Guy Pearce with an expression of shock during a telephone call, as analyzed and reviewed by poet and film critic Ezekiel Yu for the automachination literary magazine.

WHERE WAS I? Analyzing Christopher Nolan’s “Memento” (2000)

If Christopher Nolan’s debut “Following” (1998) is the blueprint to his filmography, laying out all his thematic concerns and technical flourishes (albeit in primitive form) from the jump, then its follow-up “Memento” (2000) might very well be the culmination, as all those elements seem to find their ideal narrative manifestation in the nigh-experimental crime drama about a man with a traumatic brain injury who cannot form new memories.

It also remains Nolan’s best film, and while more recent generations have become enamored with the likes of his “Batman Trilogy” and sci-fi epic “Interstellar”, it is “Memento” that will stand the test of time; if simply by virtue of its status as a film school mainstay, if not for its popular standing, fickle as such standings can be.

This is not, I admit, the most controversial claim. One cannot say that “Memento” is an underrate” work, though one may be able to say that Nolan’s more popular fare has decidedly overshadowed his earlier accomplishment(s) in the public eye. I’m willing to bet that a not insignificant number of those flocking into 70mm IMAX screenings of “The Odyssey” have never even heard of, much less seen, his first two features. And of those who have, how many would likewise claim that “Memento” tops the oeuvre? I’ve only ever met a handful of self-professed Nolan admirers who have done so, despite its stature as an independent film classic. […]

Film by Alex Sheremet
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A still from Woody Allen's classic romantic comedy, "Annie Hall," depicting Woody Allen and Diane Keaton flirting in bed, as analyzed and reviewed by the world's leading Woody Allen critic, Alex Sheremet, for the automachination literary magazine.

Why Woody Allen’s “Annie Hall” (1977) Is Still A Classic

I’ve praised both “Play It Again, Sam” (1972) and “The Front” (1976) as examples of good early Woody drama, but it’s really “Annie Hall” that kicks off Allen’s Golden Age, for it’s the beginning of his best characterizations, best visuals, deepest narratives, and the overall sense that he had ‘made it’ as a filmmaker of ability and substance. This is because “Annie Hall” takes many of his now-classic preoccupations with sex, death, relationships, inevitability, and intellectual posturing (including his own!), and creates a genuine narrative out of it, not by force or gags, but simply by dropping some great characters into a landscape, and seeing how a narrative unfolds out of them. There is also a seeming simplicity, here, in Allen’s ‘Alvy’ persona, that absolutely misleads viewers into sympathizing with Alvy, rather than Annie. In short, it is Alvy that constantly spouts self-deprecating gems and rich but down-to-earth posits that aggrandize him as both an Everyman, and as a kind of ‘hero,’ who’s gone through it, and gotten over it, too — “it” being ‘confusing’ relationships, a lack of self-assurance, or whatever else that might be imbued into the film, yet isn’t really there. The film starts with direct exposition, as Alvy Singer tells the audience of his two key metaphors for life: […]

Film by Alex Sheremet
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Stills of Woody Allen and Juliette Lewis (Rain) flirting in his 1992 film "Husbands and Wives", with Woody appearing much older and more haggard, as analyzed and reviewed by the world's top Woody Allen expert, Alex Sheremet, for the automachination literary magazine.

In The Dark: Analyzing Woody Allen’s “Husbands And Wives” (1992)

Although Woody’s last couple of films were underrated, they were not great works, by any means. It would take two years for Woody to return with another true drama, and thus triumphantly close his decade-and-a-half Golden Age. In some ways, Husbands and Wives is the most pure look at ‘Woody’ relationships, and one of the more intimate and best films of his career. In short, if ANNIE HALL was a kind of grown-up ‘first’ for Woody as well as Alvy Singer, and MANHATTAN too odd — it dealt with a grown man and a seventeen year-old girl, after all — or HANNAH AND HER SISTERS too marred by the ‘big problems’ of infidelity, familial conflict, and the like, to really get at the core of romance itself, this film merely examines the inner workings of two marriages, and what the interactions in one say of the events in the other, and vice-versa. It is, then, the most vanilla of the aforementioned films, but while there are no truly arresting visuals, no haunting metaphors, nor moments of ‘perfect poetry’ or scoring, this in no way detracts from what the film actually does. It is hyper-realistic, down to the documentary style, complete with questions and answers that shed light (and not) on those involved, and the quick edits and ‘jagged’ handheld camera that gets into the actors’ faces, showing not only why their marriages disintegrate, but also how the characters themselves are part of a self-imposed pattern they do not understand. […]

Film by Ezekiel Yu
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A shot of Orson Welles (Harry Lime) in a dark tunnel, from Carol Reed's 1949 black and white film, "The Third Man", as reviewed and analyzed by poet and film critic Ezekiel Yu for the automachination literary magazine.

These Shadowed Angles: Analyzing Carol Reed’s “The Third Man” (1949)

Man, just how great is Orson Welles?

Can you name another major American filmmaker—world filmmaker, for that matter—who was not only responsible for multiple, medium-defining masterpieces but also turned in stellar performances as both leading man and supporting actor?

Cassavetes comes to mind, though he was often overshadowed onscreen by his partner and muse Gena Rowlands. Woody Allen revolutionized the serio-comic film and was, at the same time, very capable as an actor in his own screenplays; but he had a limited schtick, and one which he (and others) would eventually run to the ground. The great Silent Clowns may be close comparisons, and Welles himself professed a deep admiration for Buster Keaton. De Sica was a fine actor, certainly; and the pioneering Swedish director Victor Sjöström performed splendidly in Bergman’s Wild Strawberries as its main character.

After these (name-drop some of your own, as I’ve inevitably short-shrifted at least a few notables), though, it’s slim pickings. Clint Eastwood? A spaghetti western icon, yes, but his own films as a director do not hold a candle to Sergio Leone’s, much less Welles’s. Tarantino? Nope. Mel Gibson? Please. Tim Blake Nelson is a good actor and filmmaker—but medium-defining? No dice. (I do not count those who turned in only cameos or bit parts, such as Scorsese, Hitchcock, Sayles, etc.) And I won’t be considering up-and-comers like Greta Gerwig, Jordan Peele, or Bradley Cooper just yet, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me. […]

Film by Ezekiel Yu
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A still from Kane Parsons's "Backrooms," depicting Chiwetel Ejiofor in a brightly lit yellow room, as reviewed and analyzed by poet and film critic Ezekiel Yu for the automachination literary magazine.

I Think I Like It In Here: Reviewing Kane Parsons’s “Backrooms” (2026)

Kane Parsons’s “Backrooms” is the first mainstream film that I’m aware of to have been inspired by, of all things, a 4chan post. Chances are you already know about the Backrooms, especially if you’re Gen Z or a millennial or have spent any significant amount of time memeing on the Internet. If you don’t, then it’s a simple enough concept to explain. Imagine a dank, yellow-wallpapered office space, empty of all features save the blank angularity of walls and a vaguely unsettling openness. Now imagine that going on and on, forever.

It’s a weird alternate take on our reality, as if the universal software had glitched and copy-pasted this uncanny liminal space into its own pocket dimension. An anon on the original 4chan post (which featured on one of the site’s forums dedicated to paranormal phenomena), however, explains it more evocatively:

“If you’re not careful and you noclip out of reality in the wrong areas, you’ll end up in the Backrooms, where it’s nothing but the stink of old moist carpet, the madness of mono-yellow, the endless background noise of fluorescent lights at maximum hum-buzz, and approximately six hundred million square miles of randomly segmented empty rooms to be trapped in

“God save you if you hear something wandering around nearby, because it sure as hell has heard you”

—Anonymous, 4chan (May 13, 2019) […]

Film by Ezekiel Yu
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A still from Curry Barker's "Obsession," depicting a woman in silhouette (Inde Navarrette) standing on her lit patio at night, with Michael Johnston sitting in his car, as reviewed by the poet and film critic Ezekiel Yu for the automachination literary magazine.

Why Don’t You Love Me: Reviewing Curry Barker’s “Obsession” (2025)

The obsession of Curry Barker’s title refers, superficially, to the poor young woman who develops an increasingly unhinged attachment to the protagonist of the film, Bear, after he makes a magic wish that forces her to be “in love” with him. Her name is Nikki, and they are part of a tight-knit circle of friends—involving two others, Sarah and Ian—who work together at a family-run music store.

But the deeper obsession is really Bear’s, which becomes the end-all-be-all of their doomed dynamic, and also that which lies at the heart of all the film’s now notorious moments of horror. Nikki, after all, has her own thoughts and dreams and designs; her own personhood, in a word, and it is that very personhood, that autonomy, that gets in the way of Bear’s idealizations, i.e. his fundamental misunderstanding (willful or not) of who Nikki is, and who he is to her.

You see, Bear likes Nikki (Michael Johnston and Inde Navarette, both relative newcomers). She’s beautiful, artistic, funny, outgoing—the girl of his dreams. Only problem is, Nikki doesn’t seem to like Bear in the same way. She clearly cares for him, and even seems to prize their relationship relative to their other friends—but romantic love? This is decidedly less clear. Much to Ian’s chagrin, Bear commits to confessing his feelings to Nikki at the group’s beloved trivia night; though the death of Bear’s cat from a slip-up involving some old pills puts a damper on the proceedings. […]

Film by Alex Sheremet
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A still from Woody Allen's "Crimes and Misdemeanors," showing a black-and-white Woody Allen appearing nervous, set against Anjelica Huston's lifeless eyes and colorful body, as reviewed and analyzed by the world's leading Woody Allen critic, Alex Sheremet, for automachination literary magazine.

Art of Crime: Analyzing Woody Allen’s “Crimes and Misdemeanors” (1989)

If “Another Woman” is a great film that hasn’t yet received its due, then “Crimes and Misdemeanors” is a widely-praised film whose greatness, while generally acknowledged, is often misunderstood. At its core, the film is not only about a hyper-realistic killer (as opposed to merely a ‘torn,’ freakish, or symbolic one), but also about the winners and losers that surround him, who not only shed light on his import, but on the lives and personalities of millions just like him. In fact, it is one of the film’s seemingly most throwaway lines — “might makes right” — that brings this idea to the fore, even as it obscures some more nuanced moments. To see it in action, one simply needs to look at how the film’s relationships bud and die. Halley rejects Cliff because he’s a loser, and falls for the vapid and loathsome Lester because he’s a success. A stranger humiliates Cliff’s naive, lonely sister merely because he can, and she’s only too willing. Dolores is not only killed, but her utter shallowness is remembered by Judah, even after her death, wherein she confuses musical composers, or waxes poetic on the eyes being “windows to the soul,” despite us knowing that her own eyes were empty, with neither definition nor identity when she was killed. Yet, for all this, it is Judah at the center of it all, and it’s Judah who, far more than being a mere symbol or plaything, is something far more real. He is ‘just another guy’ living at home, raising his kids, going to work, and giving to charity, separated only by the style and the frequency of his rationalizations, while the fact that he is ultimately a “winner,” to use Dan Schneider’s word,[1] affirms the Bible’s oft-ignored dictum: for whoever has, more shall be given, but whoever does not have, even that shall be taken away. This is ‘might’ as it begets might, and riches for the Judah Rosenthals, but even as Judah argues at film’s end, no fairy tales, nor happy endings.

The film begins with a celebration of Judah Rosenthal’s (Martin Landau) philanthropy at an event, whose praise is interspersed with other scenes, such as Judah receiving a letter from his mistress, Dolores, earlier that day, who threatens to reveal all to his family if he doesn’t break off his marriage. Thus, against genre tropes, some of his flaws are already laid out, even as Judah gives his speech, spliced with poetic images of the boy at prayer, quoting his father’s comment, “the eyes of God are on us always.” Judah, now a religious ophthalmologist, wonders if such words could have influenced his choice of profession, a ‘noble’ question which is immediately paired with another scene of Judah confronting Dolores (Anjelica Huston) at her apartment, as he promises to “work something out.” It’s an interesting choice, for even now one gets a realistic look at how most people deal with or otherwise treat religion, as things for comment or even genuine personal growth, only to renege in 99%+ of moments where it ceases to apply. This is a clue to Judah’s later behavior, given the clear “flexibility” (to borrow Schneider’s word again) of his morals now.

Film by Alex Sheremet
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Mariel Hemingway and Woody Allen look at each other as Woody smokes in his 1979 film, "Manhattan", as reviewed and analyzed by the world's leading Woody Allen critic, Alex Sheremet, for the automachination literary magazine.

The Many Illusions of Woody Allen’s “Manhattan” (1979)

Although Woody Allen’s “Manhattan” is one of cinema’s best and most-loved films, it also among the most misunderstood. This is probably because there is such a disconnect between the film’s stunning and romantic imagery, and the way the characters actually behave on-screen. Often, it’s been called a “love letter” to New York, or what’s worse, a “love poem,” but it’s really an excoriation of Isaac Davis (Woody Allen) and the projection of his ideals, which are incongruently set against all that’s beautiful and lush. It is quite an effective device, for it makes the film seem to be about one thing, yet completely undermines the genre tropes that other superficially similar works are so dependent on, even as the black and white cinematography of the great Gordon Willis seems to ‘pretend’ otherwise. Not wasting any time, Woody makes this apparent from the very first shot, in which Isaac is busy at his book. Yes, it’s a ‘romantic’ trope, in the sense that Isaac is a man in love with his city, and trying to write, but is marred by the fact that he simply cannot express one well-articulated thought. At end, he settles on this line: “‘He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat.’ I love this. ‘New York was his town and it always would be.’” This is not exactly good writing, and flies in the face of a later scene where he up and quits his job so he could stop writing crap television, and work on something “serious” and worthwhile instead. Clearly it is not, and despite being one of the most-quoted parts of the film, there is an irony, a futility, here, that most viewers do not catch. The stunning visuals of fireworks are celebratory, but of what? Probably of Isaac’s feelings and ideals, which are repeatedly shown to have little to do with reality, not only of the outside world, but of his internal life, as well, which is as false and self-congratulatory as anything he critiques. This gives Manhattan a special place in cinema, even as, thirty-five years later, it continues to outshine films that, while inspired by Woody’s, are restricted by the genre conventions he absolutely defies. […]