Roundhay Garden Scene

A sort of documentary on the people known to have fallen out of windows in a certain time frame in a certain geographical location. One of Greenaway's early short films.

Guerrila filmmaker Krulik bring us his films of the last decade in one handy package. Features "Heavy Metal Parking Lot," its sequel "Neil Diamond Parking Lot," "King of Porn," "Mr. Blassie Comes to Washington," "I Created Lancelot Link", and "Ernest Borgnine on Tour."

Trains travel through the night without stopping. The clatter of the carriages quickly disappears, along with the wail of the locomotive. The people at the station are all asleep. But why are they so exhausted ? And what are they waiting for? Set inside an isolated train depot, The Train Station is one of Sergei Loznitsa's most haunting films. It is also one of his most pointed social critiques. In this film, we are brought to a remote train station deep in the Russian woods. It's nighttime. In the distance, we hear the clatter of locomotives. The station, a small wooden building, sits silently, surrounded only by snow and train tracks.

Hutton's most impressive work ... the filmmaker's style takes on an assertive edge that marks his maturity. The landscape has a majesty that serves to reflect the meditative interiority of the artist independent of any human presence. ... New York is framed in the dark nights of a lonely winter. The pulse of street life finds no role in NEW YORK PORTRAIT; the dense metropolitan population and imposing urban locale disappear before Hutton's concern for the primal force of a universal presence. With an eye for the ordinary, Hutton can point his camera toward the clouds finding flocks of birds, or turn back to the simple objects around his apartment struggling to elicit a personal intuition from their presence. ... Hutton finds a harmonious, if at times melancholy, rapport with the natural elements that retain their grace in spite of the city's artificial environment. The city becomes a ghost town that the filmmaker transforms into a vehicle reflecting his personal mood.

Probably filmed in 1895, a group of people stand along the platform of a railway station in La Ciotat, waiting for a train. The train pulls up and attendants help passengers off and on. This was not in the Lumière's official catalog, and was likely screened in early 1896. This film is often misidentified on Youtube as "L'Arrivée d’un train à La Ciotat", which is the title of the 1897 remake.

Do you ever wonder why you are the way you are? One day I decided to ask myself this question and I have been struggling to put the answer together ever since. “Enough of Myself” is my visualization of this process. When I finally had the headspace to consider my own emotions, it turned out to be a lot harder than I had thought. When you start to examine your own thoughts and patterns, the digging doesn’t stop. You keep digging deeper and finding new connections that you might have preferred stay hidden. But to ignore these things is to give in to them. Growth requires a certain level of vulnerability, not just towards others but towards yourself as well. To grow beyond those negative patterns, you need to look them in the eye first. In my film I tried to capture this emotional process in an array of animations. I hope that I haven’t just captured my own emotional process, but some deeper universal emotions as well.

Dance and prostitution play the same role for Cristhian’s body. Virtuosity, desire, technique, and sex intertwine, granting coherence to a way of life that offers many answers to few questions. A leitmotiv that reconciles opposites and contradictions. Answers that are sometimes painful, like all truths.

Jeff krulik's favorite DC restaurant closes for good. A bitersweet farewell kiss.

Ostensibly a portrait of a place where the artist had resided until recently, the new film by Robert Beavers conjures not only the memory but also the physical presence of those who have previously stayed there. Adhering to a solitary intimacy while simultaneously acting as an ode to human endeavour and shared impulses toward fulfillment through art, Listening to the Space in my Room is a moving testament to existence (whose traces are found in literature, music, filmmaking, gardening) and our endless search for meaning and authenticity. The film's precise yet enigmatic sound-image construction carries a rare emotional weight.