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Critic’s Notebook: In Praise of Frederick Wiseman, America’s Greatest Living Filmmaker

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Critic’s Notebook: In Praise of Frederick Wiseman, America’s Greatest Living Filmmaker

Every so often, the work of a filmmaker is given a major critical and public reassessment, allowing them to enter the pantheon of great directors.

It happened in the 1950s, when French critics declared that Howard Hawks, Alfred Hitchcock and Samuel Fuller were not only skillful helmers of genre flicks, but auteurs with distinct personal visions. Later, John Ford was revisited by Peter Bogdanovich and Lindsay Anderson, in books claiming he was more than just a maker of great Westerns. In the 1990s, the Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski and the Iranian Abbas Kiarostami, both of whom had been working steadily in their homelands since the 70s, were finally celebrated abroad. More recently, the filmography of Agnès Varda was excavated in retrospectives and festivals, shining a light on a forgotten member of the New Wave.

It’s time the same thing happened for Frederick Wiseman.

First off, let’s not kid ourselves: The 95-year-old Boston native is already considered one of the greatest, if not the greatest of all, documentary filmmakers. With 46 features in nearly 60 years, he’s widely recognized as the major chronicler of American institutions, as well as a few French ones.

His movies, which have running times ranging from 75 to 358 minutes, have all been self-produced through his company Zipporah Films (named after the director’s late wife), with funding coming from PBS and other public outlets in the U.S. and, more recently, in France. They tend to have banal titles — Basic Training, Meat, Zoo, City Hall and State Legislature, to name a few — which do a clever job masking what they really are: veritable human comedies of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, populated by people from all races, classes and walks of life struggling within systems they never fully control.

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Over the last decade or so, Wiseman’s true greatness has been acknowledged on a bigger scale. A New York Times Magazine piece from 2020, titled “What if the Great American Novelist Didn’t Write Novels?”, argued that his output isn’t merely a collection of institutional portraits, but a series of “long, strange and uncompromising” films made by an “artist of extraordinary vision.” A year later, Shawn Glinis and Arlin Golden launched the excellent Wiseman Podcast, celebrating each movie with in-depth analyses and interviews, including one with the man himself. And back in 2010, a MoMA retrospective featured a catalogue in which Wiseman’s work was praised by artists and intellectuals outside the documentary realm.

With career-spanning retrospectives taking place this past year in New York, Los Angeles and Paris, including 33 works restored through the support of Steven Spielberg, a new generation of moviegoers has had the chance to not only discover or rediscover his films in pristine form, but to grasp the profound scope of his ambition.

I’ve personally sat through 20 or so of his movies in Paris since September, presenting a few of them to packed theaters. And with each new screening, I became increasingly attuned to the fact that Wiseman is not simply a great documentary filmmaker, which is a label he’s always rejected. He’s a great filmmaker, period. And to my mind, he’s the greatest American filmmaker living right now (even if he currently resides in France).

His films, which are set in schools, libraries, museums, offices, police precincts, department stores, museums and other public or private places, are not just faceless, factual accounts of bureaucracies and those employed by them. They are carefully structured narratives marked by moments of high drama, dark comedy and raw emotion, all starring real people giving some of the best natural performances you’ll ever see on screen.

To cite some examples: the finale of High School, during which a teacher reads the letter of a former student proudly fighting in Vietnam; the scene in Welfare in which a man compares his humiliating experience to Beckett’s Waiting for Godot; the moment in Missile when two female Air Force trainees give each other high-fives after launching a mock nuclear attack; the epic leg surgery of a thoroughbred horse in Racetrack; the drugged-out hipster in Hospital who has a vomiting fit worthy of The Exorcist; the NATO exercises in Manoeuvre that become surreal war games; the adorable little girl walking with her cane for the first time in Blind; a wolf getting shot point blank in Belfast, Maine; the heartbreaking scene in Public Housing where an elderly man is evicted from his apartment, unaware of where he’ll go next.

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Wiseman of course didn’t direct any of these scenes, at least in the traditional sense of calling “action” and “cut.” But he captured them, operating sound while regular cameramen William Brayne and John Davey handled the cinematography, then shaped them afterwards into moments of pure cinema.

For those unfamiliar with his process, his movies are usually shot in stretches lasting from six to ten weeks, then edited by the director for roughly nine months to a year. If editing is what separates cinema from other art forms, offering the ability to mold time and events as one chooses, then Wiseman’s genius lies in the way he’s been able to create layered, emotional works out of all the footage he’s culled together. It’s not quite direct cinema or cinéma vérité — two documentary forms that preceded him — but the transformation of raw material into “reality fictions,” as he calls his films.

I would defy, for instance, any director to recreate the emotional power elicited by two remarkable sequences in the Kansas City-set Law and Order: one in which a hot-headed teenager is restrained by a squad of cops, the other in which a female sex worker is sadistically choked by a detective.

Not only are these scenes harrowing in their brutality, but their depictions of Black citizens being violently subdued by white policemen resonate as much in 2025 as they did back in 1969. Each scene in a Wiseman movie is meant to be grasped on two levels — the literal action on the surface and the more symbolic meaning behind it — and those scenes from Law and Order speak volumes about America both then and now.

Which brings us to what makes Wiseman so important today.

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We live in a time of major political and social unrest, when the country appears to be changing in ways never imagined. Wiseman’s movies provide lots of clues as to what got us here, unveiling the deep currents of capitalism, patriotism, religious fundamentalism, racism and classism that have always been present, to varying degrees, in the United States.

Despite their warmth and humanism, his films can sometimes seem scathing or pessimistic — tragic comedies sculpted from the granite of American life. Yet they also reinforce a more heartening truth about the country, which is that no matter how individualistic a society we’ve become over the years, we’re still capable of laboring together for a greater cause.

In that sense, perhaps the quintessential Wiseman scene is one of people sitting around a meeting room, debating an issue until they manage to reach a decision. For the director’s detractors, these can be chunks of pure tedium, indicative of his hands-off, fly-on-the wall approach to cinema.

But at a time when our institutions seem to be in great peril, these scenes now appear to be hammering home a theme Wiseman has been slyly emphasizing all along, from decade to decade and from film to film, in a body of work that’s suddenly become more relevant than ever: the everyday miracle, now under threat, of democracy in action.

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Movie Reviews

The Breadwinner (Christian Movie Review) – The Collision

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The Breadwinner (Christian Movie Review) – The Collision

About the Film 

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On the Surface

For Consideration

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Beneath The Surface

Engage The Film

Family Dynamics

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  • Daniel holds a PhD in “Christianity and the Arts” from The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. He is the author/co-author of multiple books and he speaks in churches and schools across the country on the topics of Christian worldview, apologetics, creative writing, and the Arts.

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‘Blast’ movie review: An unlikely family packs a punch in this largely gripping but patchy film

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‘Blast’ movie review: An unlikely family packs a punch in this largely gripping but patchy film

A Karate master father, a homemaker mother, and a pharmacist uncle. The life of IT professional Nila (a fantastic Preity Mukundhan) seems quite simple and benevolent — she goes to her office, plays video games on her mobile, and spends time in her uncle’s medical shop, grudgingly looking at an old television set he refuses to let go. Nila’s life, to an unassuming viewer, may not seem anything too extraordinary. Still, one key piece of information reveals that perhaps this must be the kind of ‘family life’ backdrop that most assuredly camouflages a superhero origin story. Nila isn’t just any other ordinary human, and neither is that Karate master, homemaker, or pharmacist. Blast, directed by Subash K Raj, is a martial arts actioner pegged around one very potent Drishyam-esque idea — what if a family of martial arts pros is forced to step out of their normal lives to fight against injustice when nefarious men find their door? And director Subash comes off in flying colours by conceptualising a terrific set-up that makes use of this idea.

The beating heart of the story is Preity Mukundhan’s Nila, who avoids becoming a merely gender-swapped routine action hero. There’s real moral and emotional backing to why Preity is the way she is, and Subash allows her the time to make her case. Nila’s quest started when she was a child. As she fumed with rage due to a ragging incident, her father, Rajaram (Arjun), told her, “fight back if you are in the right” and “fight against injustice even if the victims are strangers.”

Preity Mukundhan in a still from ‘Blast’

Preity Mukundhan in a still from ‘Blast’
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

And the introductory scene to the now-grown-up Nila’s bravado is inherently gripping. A goon is sent flying into a rowdy’s den, and a perplexed henchman walks out to find the “man who hit” his colleague, urging Nila to step aside, because it can’t be a woman, isn’t it? Nila enters, and so does mayhem. In fact, one of the smartest choices Subash makes is in how he retains this inherent, normalised sexism in how the men see Nila throughout. In a later instance, a villain looks past Rajaram and Nila because they seem like an ordinary father and daughter. Where Subash takes a misstep is in how he treats a sexual harassment arc featuring Nila and her abusive manager; it makes way for a good masala cinema moment, but Subash laces it with humour, and it neither reveals anything new nor does it seem to care to extend the idea that the world Nila lives in is already calibrated to look down on women and feast on their vulnerabilities. Also, you begin to get slightly impatient as the film keeps revelling in the idea that a woman is bringing all the action — when will the conflict arise?

Blast (Tamil)

Director: Subash K Raj

Cast: Preity Mukundhan, Arjun, Abhirami, Vivek Prasanna

Runtime: 144 minutes

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Storyline: A fiercesome woman, along with her martial artist parents, vows to take down a corrupt syndicate

Nila constantly gets into trouble as she refuses to bow down in the face of injustice, to the pride of her father, but to the dismay of her mother, Neelaveni (Abhirami, too, can kick some bottoms). And it doesn’t take much to guess where the setting is headed. We simultaneously begin to follow the making of a Black Opal mining scam that an evil businessman, Varun Dhayalan (John Kokken), is spearheading. The project, which puts the hillside village of Keelakadu in danger, would bring in ₹7000 crores worth of minerals, of which a minister (PL Thenappan) takes ₹1000 crores. This whole arc operates like a rather convoluted spiral of villainy — helping Varun move the money needed to bribe the minister is a dreaded assassin named Abraham (Arjun Chidambaram), and helping Abraham is a gangster named Kirubhakaran (Pawan), and under him works a henchman whose friend is a low-life chain snatcher, Toby (Vinod Sagar), and Toby gets caught in a station where Inspector Arunagiri (Dileepan) is investigating Abraham’s identity, and under Arunagiri works a corrupt cop who wants Kirubha’s help to save his job. I guess you could already see where Blast might have derailed.

A lion’s share of screentime is accorded to explain each step in this often yawn-inducing villain saga, all while you are patiently waiting to see the tip of the whirlpool land on Nila’s doorstep and suck her martial arts family in. When it does, it is as explosive as you expect, at least until the intermission mark. While these unidimensional villains test your patience — only Arjun Chidambaram is written and presented with flair — you are left waiting for the next high moment, especially since Subash seems to have a knack for staging such mass-y scenes. But again, how much can Preity and Arjun do when the writing begins to dip into cliches and conveniences? After a point, Blast turns out to be quite tedious in the final act, making you wonder how a leaner, crisper, and more anchored screenplay could have been.

Arjun and Abhirami in a still from ‘Blast’

Arjun and Abhirami in a still from ‘Blast’
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

All that aside, however, what truly fascinates one is how, despite Blast being helmed by a male director and starring an action star like Arjun, it moves around its female protagonist, Nila, and every major decision is made keeping the two central women as opposing but counterbalancing poles — Neelaveni’s moral anchor prioritising the family’s peaceful life above all, and Nila’s moral anchor pushing them to be knights of justice. In fact, even in one of the most pivotal moments of the film, the choice to decide a villain’s fate is placed rightfully on Nila’s shoulders. It is great to see Arjun take a step back to let Abhirami and Preity shine, while Vivek Prasanna, as Nila’s pharmacist uncle, gets a Jailer-esque moment that is sure to become a highlight in his career. Helping all of them are the able technicians, be it the sharp, slick cinematography, innovative and adrenaline-pumping action choreography, and Ravi Basrur’s assured music choices.

That said, Blast is a Preity Mukundhan show all along, and the Star-actor knows how to pack a punch, alright! In a different film, where more ingenious ideas are spring-loaded for mass elevations, Blast would have truly become her career-defining big bang.

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Blast is currently running in theatres

Published – May 29, 2026 02:50 pm IST

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‘The Blow’ Review: A Gripping, Feverishly Performed French Drama Explores Incest With Candor and Emotion

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‘The Blow’ Review: A Gripping, Feverishly Performed French Drama Explores Incest With Candor and Emotion

For his bracing first feature, The Blow (La Frappe), writer-director Julien Gaspar-Oliveri chose a subject so bleak, many filmmakers wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. And yet this raw and grippingly honest incest drama manages to find a bit of light in the darkness, showing how it’s possible to live with the traumas of sexual abuse. Feverishly performed by newcomer Diego Murgia, who stars alongside César award winner Bastien Bouillon, Gaspar-Oliveri’s moving debut reveals that he’s not only a talented director to watch, but one who’s unafraid to tackle tough scenarios.

The Blow focuses on a disarmingly troubled young man, Enzo (Murgia), who tries so hard to find affection in the eyes of his dad, Anthony (Bouillon), he’s willing to ignore the worst thing a father could ever do to his own son. Enzo spends much of the film in a crushing state of denial, hoping against hope that love will somehow emerge from this mess. He’s so vulnerable that you can’t help feeling his pain — even when he winds up inflicting that pain on others.

The Blow

The Bottom Line

A powerful debut tackles a tough subject.

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Venue: Cannes Film Festival (Critics’ Week)
Cast: Diego Murgia, Bastien Bouillon, Romane Fringeli, Héloïse Volle
Director: Julien Gaspar-Oliveri
Screenwriters: Julien Gaspar-Oliveri, Claudia Bottino

1 hour 46 minutes

Per the press notes, Gaspar-Oliveri (who co-created the successful high school series, Those Who Blush) partially based the story (co-written with Claudia Bottino) on his own life, which seems evident given the emotional authenticity of his characters. Murgia’s portrayal of Enzo is the movie’s breakthrough performance, although Romane Fringeli, who plays the 19-year-old’s abrasive older sister, Carla, is also a standout. Bouillon, meanwhile, continues a string of strong turns (including in The Birthday Party, which screened in Cannes’ main competition this year) that began back in 2022 with Dominik Moll’s thriller The Night of the 12th.

The opening scene, lensed by Martin Rit in grainy close-ups, shows Enzo and Carla carelessly sleeping in bed together, their bodies subtly rising and falling with each breath. It seems like a blissful moment between the two siblings, who share a tight if volatile bond. But as the film progresses and we learn more about their childhood, that scene takes on a very different meaning: one in which proximity can breed both affection and contempt.

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With no parents in the picture and Carla moving out to a college dorm, Enzo’s whole life seems to be in front of him. It helps that he has a burgeoning and very loving relationship with new girlfriend Laura (Héloïse Volle), whose parents run a go-kart track that seems to be the main source of entertainment in their working-class suburb of Marseille.

But the state of independence Enzo has achieved at such a young age is broken when his dad returns home after a five-year stint in prison. A scene in which the two discuss Anthony’s future with a parole officer underlines to what extent Enzo has become the man of the household, hiring his own father to help sell kitchen appliances at local flea markets.

Bouillon creates a charming if menacing presence from the get-go, portraying Anthony as a father who’s been out of the loop for too long with regards to both family and civilian life, yet still wants to be in charge. In one sequence foreshadowing what’s to come, Enzo hides in a closet while his dad brings a woman home from the bar, witnessing some awkward and then off-putting sexual behavior. A latter scene in which the boy climbs in bed with Anthony reveals much worse, although it takes Gaspar-Oliveri a while to explain what exactly went down in the past.

What’s most moving about The Blow — whose French title can mean both a physical hit and a young hoodlum — is the way it charts Enzo’s gradual awakening from a kid who’s still too attached to his father, mostly for terrible reasons, to an adult who finally steps back and sees the truth, at which point the trauma is so overwhelming that it takes over. This happens during several explosive scenes in which Enzo lashes out at those who truly love him (his girlfriend; his sister, who wants nothing to do with their dad), searching in vain for someone to quell the suffering.

Murgia is a revelation here, playing a loose cannon who’s also deeply wounded, like a battered dog occasionally showing his teeth and sometimes biting those who feed him. The early moments in the drama, when Enzo is trying his best to please Anthony after he gets out of jail, offering to cook dinner or lending him a few bucks, will just about break your heart. Because deep down, Enzo knows that by getting closer to his dad, he’s also getting further away from his own recovery. It’s the constant push and pull between trauma and salvation that makes The Blow such a powerful experience.

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