Η φωνή της καρδιάς [The voice of the heart] (1943)
»I shouldn’t complain«
Endearing and a little clumsy, with some acting manners seemingly remaining from the silent era. Didactic storytelling, charmingly chaste courtship, revealing facial expressions, elegant dialogue, and nice comedy touches adorn this short, delightful father-daughter bagatelle with sombre undercurrents.
Contains few surprises, as true love tries to overcome huge obstacles. Maybe in my book of predominantly goodhearted greeks.
A ruthless and distorted look at family values. With a reputation that has been growing steadily over the years, this uncompromising western feels exceedingly and almost shockingly cruel for its time.
The troubled man haunted by his dark past is both strong archetype and tired cliché. Maybe in my book of redemption.
This political thriller is a somewhat different kind of John le Carré story, replete with cynical pharmaceutical business in an african setting, idealistic activism, and a dogged search for the real truth.
Very bleak in outlook and equally energetic in execution. Maybe in my book of caretaking.
Epitomizing the laidback, philosophical slacker variety of dudishness, this hilariously chaotic cult comedy packs plenty of punches while not really going anywhere. Which probably was the intention all along.
Absurd and clever entertainment. In my book of abiding.
A powerful – if partly incoherent – mix of mysterious dark fantasy and revolting civil war brutality. Chronicles a girl’s coming of age, a family falling apart, and a society descending into darkness. Symbolism is sometimes unfathomable, danger always imminent.
Magic realism with very memorable visuals. In my book of fairytales for grownups.