10. Bruno Dumont ran off the rails so long ago that I thought this theologically minded Bressonian brutalist would never return to the bizarre vérité mysticism of The Life of Jesus or LHumanité. Thus Hors Satan (imperfectly translated as Outside Satan) was a mild revelation. Two non-actors with a matching absence of affect and complementary hairstyleshis slicked back, hers spiked uptramp silently around the beautifully photographed dunes and marshes of northwest Normandy, engaging in strange rituals and precipitating peculiar outbreaks (including one of Dumonts trademark sex acts). Its a Stone Age tale, ascetic, enigmatic, and intermittently violent.
Also noted with pleasure: Markus Schleizners audience mind-fuck Michael, Michel Hazanaviciuss silent-movie pastiche The Artist, Nicolas Winding Refns spaghetti-HK-80s mash-up Drive, Hong Sang-soos The Day He Arrives (not just the same movie he always makes, but a movie about making that same movie), Takashi Miikes well-conceptualized but poorly realized (or projected) 3-D samurai flick Ichimei, and Sean Durkins spooky Manson family gloss Martha Marcy May Marlene. Like I said, it was an excellent festival.
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