Peter Weir’s second feature The Cars That Ate Paris (1974) has an underlying power, and it’s both due to how raw it is as a cultural and industrial satire, and how much Peter Weir’s delicate emotional trademarks manage to bleed themselves into the expression of this bizarre premise.

Being able to see such a beautiful restoration on the big screen is worth the price of admission alone, and I could not recommend The Conformist more.

Move aside Taylor Swift. The re-release of Stop Making Sense reiterates that Talking Heads still holds the title for the best concert film ever made.

What the film succeeds at that I didn’t quite expect, is how thoroughly entertaining and engaging it remains throughout its 127 minute runtime. Given its reputation, I thought it’d be rather one-note with its kitchen sink drama, but the deeply rich characters and their maniacal tendencies lent to a plot that is truly hard to predict.