R&R Update: September in Soft Focus

Between film festival prep and essays, a moment to catch you up on what’s been quietly unfolding (with a few speedy recommendations, too).

French Cancan (Jean Renoir; 1955)

August was a quiet one here on Rewind & Revive — but only on the surface. Behind the scenes, I’ve been gearing up for one of my busiest seasons yet, juggling a frankly absurd number of projects (par for the course at this point).

Next month, I’m thrilled to be working with the Vancouver International Film Festival (VIFF) once again. You’ll find me on the red carpet conducting interviews, attending 20+ screenings, and sharing coverage through both Rewind & Revive and my socials. It’s both a pleasure and an honor to be invited back — and to speak with such talented creatives on opening night. If you're curious what I’ll be watching, my full VIFF list is up on Letterboxd.

Outside the festival, I recently wrote a piece for NUVO Magazine highlighting five standout titles at TIFF, with a VIFF-focused follow-up coming soon. I also partnered with MVD Entertainment for a giveaway featuring two Radiance Films favorites you’ve seen me rave about: A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness (Seijun Suzuki) and Rosa la rose, fille publique (Paul Vecchiali). Entries are open on Instagram until September 10th.

Speaking of Vecchiali — I’ve spent the last month elbow-deep in his work, and it’s been wildly rewarding. He’s a filmmaker whose cinema deserves far more English-language attention, and I’m currently putting the finishing touches on a long-form essay that will (fingers crossed!) be live next week.

I’ve missed publishing at my usual rhythm, but I also believe in giving each piece the time and care it deserves. When you read something here, I want it to spark the same passion that moved me to write it.

In the meantime, here are a few recent watches I adored:

• Drugstore Romance (Paul Vecchiali; 1979)
  Vecchiali keeps breaking my heart over and over again. Drugstore Romance is all about impossible loves and quiet devastations, flitting between tenderness and selfishness with that swooping Ophülsian camerawork and Sirkian melodrama. Fauré's "Pavane" has never sounded this gently crushing.

• Eight Postcards from Utopia (Radu Jude, Christian Ferencz-Flatz; 2024)
  Like dispatches from a mind on the brink. Watched this in a sleep-deprived fog, which honestly felt right — and had me questioning my own sanity through splattered cackles. A graveyard of faded hope, yet Jude’s wit slices through. The multivitamins ad (“for the strength to stay calm!!”) got a howl out of me. Garish, messy, indulgent, and I loved every second.

• French Cancan (Jean Renoir; 1955)
  Like stepping into an Impressionist painting in motion. 102 minutes of uninterrupted swooning. The final sequence is cinema with a capital C. The colors, the costumes, the choreography — dazzling, decadent joy.

• Don’t Change Hands (Paul Vecchiali; 1975)
  One of the rare times I can say, “I watched an adult film for the plot” and actually mean it. A sexy noir with musical numbers, familiar on-screen collaborators, and staging that’s unmistakably Vecchiali. Parts reminded me of Fassbinder, others of Jean Rollin. Provocative, absurd, and completely its own thing.

Thanks for reading — and for sticking around. More soon. I promise.