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Nouvelle Vague: Linklater’s Love Letter to the French New Wave

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With Nouvelle Vague, Richard Linklater turns his lens on one of cinema’s most electrifying moments: the birth of the French New Wave, inviting us to observe how a revolution in filmmaking quietly came to life. Shot in French, in black-and-white, and in a boxy 4:3 frame, the film brings back the heady Paris days of 1959, when Jean-Luc Godard and his Cahiers du Cinéma peers set out to reinvent cinema itself—and, against all odds, actually succeeded.

Come experience Nouvelle Vague in theaters, beginning Friday, October 31st at the Laemmle Royal, Claremont, Glendale, and NoHo 7.

Rather than dramatizing the legendary finished product À bout de souffle [Breathless], Linklater focuses on the process of its creation. We watch Godard pitch his radical proposal to a skeptical producer, assemble a cast of willing conspirators, and wrestle with the chaos of what develops when limited means meets infinite ambition. The film unfolds in cafés, cramped apartments, and dim cutting rooms, where ideas collide faster than film stock can capture them.

Linklater’s directorial approach is both affectionate and incisive. He recreates the textures of the period with meticulous care—grainy cinematography, reel-change marks, and jittery hand-held movement—but his real interest lies in unpacking the spirit of risk that defined the New Wave. Yet Nouvelle Vague doesn’t attempt to imitate Godard’s jump-cuts or anarchic cool; instead, it channels something closer to Truffaut’s warmth and curiosity; that tender belief in cinema as both laboratory and love affair.

Among the cast, Guillaume Marbeck’s Godard and Zoey Deutch’s Jean Seberg both ground and fortify the film’s emotional backbone. Marbeck faithfully captures Godard in all his restlessness and self-doubt, while Deutch lends Seberg an air of grace and melancholy, embodying the paradox of a star who feels both essential and expendable in someone else’s vision. Their uneasy rapport becomes the heart of the film, as a portrait of two artists suspended between devotion and doubt.

While Nouvelle Vague may lack the raw insurgency of its inspiration, it triumphs as a thoughtful and exuberant reflection on the act of creation itself. Beneath its wry humor and intelligence runs a current of affection for those who dare to see life as cinema, and cinema as life. In the end, it is a film that reminds us of why movies matter: not because they preserve the past, but because they keep it perpetually alive.

“It’s a savory pleasure to be able to step into this time machine and luxuriate in the company of people who thought that movies were the only thing that mattered.” – Owen Gleiberman, Variety

“A cinephile’s film through and through.” – Jordan Mintzer, The Hollywood Reporter

“A slick Steadicam ride through a historic, tumultuous moment.” – Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian

The Art of the Slow Heist: Kelly Reichardt’s The Mastermind

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In The Mastermind, acclaimed filmmaker Kelly Reichardt ventures into the familiar terrain of the heist movie… and then quietly rewrites its rules. Set in early 1970s Massachusetts, the film follows Josh O’Connor as J.B. Mooney, a once-aspiring architect turned husband and amateur criminal who hatches a plan to steal abstract paintings from a local art museum. But this isn’t Ocean’s Eleven: the glamour is stripped away, the stakes feel muted, and the aftermath is as mild and inconspicuous as the heist itself.

Catch The Mastermind in theaters beginning Friday, October 24th at the Laemmle Glendale, Town Center, Monica, Claremont, and NoHo 7.

Reichardt, whose past work has often focused on the imperceptible leaps of its lead characters—on a road trip, in a forest, in a lapsed mechanic’s shop, etc.—now applies that same contemplative lens to a genre whose mechanics have traditionally demanded speed and spectacle. She directs the film with her signature minimalism: restraint in gesture, economy in dialogue, and an eye trained on the void behind ambition for ambition’s sake. As in Showing Up and First Cow, the roar of a larger world remains just off-screen, yet its presence is felt in every muffled scene or stray whorl of cigarette smoke.

What distinguishes The Mastermind is that the so-called heist barely registers as its focus. The robbery unfolds almost incidentally, stripped of both glamour and tension. Instead, Reichardt lingers on the quiet details: the faint clink of museum glass being lifted, the awkward thud of stolen chairs crammed into a car, the weary stillness of J.B. returning home, where he drifts through the world of his judge father and socialite mother like an unmoored ship, steered by forces outside his reckoning. The film’s true intrigue lies not in the crime, but in its aftermath; the emotional debris left behind once that initial thrill has already faded.

O’Connor delivers an unexpectedly subdued performance. His J.B. has zero swagger, simply a quiet entitlement and a suggestion that he deserves something for nothing. Surrounding him are rich supporting performances from Alana Haim (his wife), Bill Camp (his father), and Hope Davis (his mother), each anchoring the film’s emotional weight without stepping into melodrama. Reichardt’s long-time cinematographer Chris Blauvelt and composer Rob Mazurek combine to deliver a vintage jazz score, each sax note and 16-mm texture suggesting more than what’s actually shown.

If The Mastermind feels slow, starved of the genre’s usual arrests, explosions, and triumphant escapes, that’s precisely the point. Reichardt aims to observe a man who planned to rob a museum and ultimately robbed himself. What remains is the humdrum tragicomedy of a life unraveling. And yet, in its stillness, the film finds its own power exploring such ideas as privilege, desperation, and craft hovering in the background of a genre made for thrill.

“A masterclass in the director’s own unique philosophical take on life.” – Amelia Harvey, ThatHashtagShow.com

“Reichardt has unerringly located the unglamour in the heist.” – Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian

In Eleanor the Great, Scarlett Johansson makes her directorial debut with a film that straddles that delicate line, balancing dark comedy, emotional drama, and pointed moral questions.

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True stories and small deceptions often live closer together than we’d like to admit. In Eleanor the Great, Scarlett Johansson makes her directorial debut with a film that straddles that delicate line, balancing dark comedy, emotional drama, and pointed moral questions.

Come see Eleanor the Great in theatres, beginning Friday, September 26th at the Laemmle Royal, Claremont, Town Center, Glendale, NoHo, and Newhall.

The story follows Eleanor Morgenstein (brilliantly played by Academy Award nominee June Squibb), a sharp-tongued nonagenarian enjoying her Florida retirement alongside her best friend, Bessie. But when Bessie dies, Eleanor’s carefully maintained world begins to crumble. Moving north to live with her daughter and grandson, she finds herself sidelined in her own family and adrift in a city she once called home. Left at the local JCC, Eleanor accidentally wanders into a meeting of Holocaust survivors. When the group mistakes her for one of their own, she chooses not to correct them—and begins retelling Bessie’s life story as her own.

At its heart, Eleanor the Great is less about deception than about the emotional currents that carry Eleanor into it. Squibb delivers a performance of rare complexity, portraying a woman who is both caustic and vulnerable, driven by a need for connection that she cannot always admit to herself. Ultimately, it is Eleanor’s bond with Nina (Erin Kellyman), a journalism student grappling with her own grief, that becomes the film’s emotional hinge. What begins as a misunderstanding grows into a tentative friendship, each woman learning to navigate absence, longing, and the fragile ways that stories can substitute for the connections we’ve lost.

Johansson and screenwriter Tory Kamen deftly steer this relationship into morally charged territory without losing sight of the characters’ underlying humanity. The ethical questions remain thorny—Can a lie born of loneliness still hold meaning? How about connections born of a lie?—but the film resists easy answers, instead allowing its characters to stumble through contradictions much like real people do. With Hélène Louvart’s luminous cinematography giving Squibb ample space to reveal flashes of mischief, regret, and desire, Eleanor the Great becomes as much a study of performance as it is of grief.

Ultimately, Johansson’s first film as a director is both tender and unsettling. Anchored by Squibb’s distinguished performance, Eleanor the Great is less about a lie than about the longing that fuels it, and the ensuing connections that make it impossible to undo.

“Eleanor the Great may not always live up to the hyperbole of the title, but it’s still worth admiring… there’s quite a bit here that truly is pretty great.” – Jason Gorber, Collider

“June Squibb is quietly powerful and touching…” – Pete Hammond, Deadline

“Johansson’s direction is assured here, establishing the intimacy between these two older women with the kind of endearing eye usually reserved for stories about girlhood.” – Lovia Gyarkye, The Hollywood Reporter

 

The History of Sound, Oliver Hermanus’s latest queer period romance.

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Rarely does a film carry the quiet anticipation that surrounds The History of Sound, Oliver Hermanus’s latest queer period romance. Hermanus—already celebrated for works like Beauty (2011), Moffie (2019), and Living (2022)—has built a reputation for telling intimate stories with hefty moral weight, exploring identity, repression, and the varied textures of longing. In The History of Sound, he turns his gaze from South Africa to early 20th-century America to examine how love and music intertwine when both must be framed in shadow.

Catch The History of Sound in theaters beginning September 19th at the Laemmle NoHo, Glendale, Claremont, Town Center, and the Monica Film Center.

The film begins in 1917, with America on the brink of entering the First World War. In Boston, the New England Conservatory of Music buzzes with disciplined energy, its classrooms and practice halls filled with young musicians devoted to mastering their craft. It is here that Lionel Worthing (Paul Mescal), a shy, musically gifted farm boy from Kentucky, first encounters David White (Josh O’Connor), a more worldly and charismatic student whose flair for piano and song draws immediate attention, thus marking the beginning of their deep, unconventional bond.

Leaving behind the conservatory’s structured walls, the story advances to the rolling backwoods of Maine, where the two men embark on a summer expedition to record local folk music on wax cylinders. Camping under the stars, both Lionel and David relax into a profound intimacy born as much from their shared sensibilities and musical devotion as from romantic desire. In this transitional era, where the old world’s simplicity meets the looming pressures of a global conflict, it is ironically such intangibles as love, art, and music that the film holds up as unlikely exemplars of consistency and groundedness.

Ultimately, The History of Sound is an intimate character study of two men brought together by music, intellect, and the rare alignment of sensibilities. Some critics have drawn comparisons to Brokeback Mountain, noting the restrained, repressed tone and the early 20th-century setting, but the resemblance stops at this superficial level. For where Ang Lee’s film dramatized social pressure and the peril of being discovered, Hermanus’ work is far more concerned with the private, almost sacred interiority of desire than with overt drama or societal conflict. The war looms, but the heart of the film lies in what’s preserved: love, song, memory, and the myriad fruits of their timeless intermingling.

“[A] meditative tale about longing and the connection that music, as well as other art forms, can create between people.” – Ben Rolph, Discussing Film

The History of Sound is a work willing to live and die by its emotional heft.” – Will Bjarnar, In Session Film

“A slow-burn kind of picture.” – Mike McGranaghan, The Aisle Seat

An “embrace of what makes us unknowable yet worthy of forgiveness,” A LITTLE PRAYER opens Friday at the Claremont, Newhall, Royal and Town Center.

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The excellent new American indie film A Little Prayer stars David Strathairn (Good Night, and Good Luck; Matewan; Lincoln; many, many more) as a man trying to protect his daughter-in-law when he finds out that his son is cheating on her. Filmmaker Angus MacLachlan also wrote Junebug, the 2005 comedic drama that featured Amy Adams’s breakthrough role, and his new film features a similar star-making turn by the young actress Jane Levy as the daughter-in-law.

MacLachlan wrote the following about his movie:

“I began writing A Little Prayer in 2016 when my daughter was 15. She’s now 21. And I realize in retrospect that I was writing about parenting adult children. How you still want to protect them and tell them what to do, and you can’t.

“Family, and the life I observe, is a subject I find myself returning to again and again in my work. The push-pull of love, loyalties, secrets, and eternal ties. I wanted to tell a story about the people around me: their humor, pathos, and courage. It is what I find endlessly fascinating. We shot the film in my hometown of Winston-Salem, North Carolina in 2022.

“The central relationship in my film – that of Bill and his daughter-in-law Tammy – is in some ways a simulacrum of the fact that I no longer have the same responsibility to guide my own daughter through her adult life. The theme of loving someone enough to let them go is reflected back to me in this story.” — Angus MacLachlan, Director

“A Little Prayer is spare yet brisk, and it unfolds with a graceful, almost musical sense of modulation: Camp and Weston, both veterans of MacLachlan’s work, strike bracing high notes of acerbic wit.” ~ Justin Chang, The New Yorker

“Everyone is good to great, but [A Little Prayer] belongs to Strathairn and Levy, whose bond becomes the center of the film.” ~ Brian Tallerico, RogerEbert.com

“There is much to enjoy in watching MacLachlan’s A Little Prayer play out, and an equal amount of wisdom to be gleaned from it.” ~ Fionnuala Halligan, Screen International

“A tough, touching film.” ~ Ty Burr, Ty Burr’s Watch List (Substack)

“MacLachlan’s writing style is at once honest and slightly elevated, the kind we’re used to hearing on stage, where the structure of the entire script matters, and subtext is every bit as important as what’s spoken.” ~ Peter Debruge, Variety

“Small-scale and finely tuned.” ~ Sheri Linden, The Hollywood Reporter

“Laid out in scenes of everyday verisimilitude and quietly gathering heartache, MacLachalan weaves a tale of human frailty and strained connection rare in its avoidance of histrionics and its embrace of what makes us unknowable yet worthy of forgiveness.” ~ Robert Abele, TheWrap

Leaving Laemmle: A Goodbye from Jordan

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My career at Laemmle Theatres began in early 1991 after a screening of Gerard Depardieu’s Cyrano de Bergerac at the Town & Country (now the Town Center 5) Theater in Encino. My father pointed out the “help wanted” sign in the box office window, and by March I was scooping and selling popcorn and later sweeping up the errant pieces from the auditorium floors. Soon enough I graduated to the more coveted role of box office cashier. My most memorable shift in that position involved a case of laryngitis and handmade signs reading “which film?” and “$4.50, please” held up to the box office window for bemused moviegoers to read. It was like a silent Chaplin short before the main feature.

All of this is by way of introduction to the fact that several decades later, I am leaving Laemmle Theatres next week for a much different job in another field entirely. I’m excited for the future but will miss my Laemmle family. As a final, much appreciated gift, Greg Laemmle has offered me this space to write a few words about my Laemmle story.

In 1999, the late Robert Laemmle and his son Greg, at the suggestion of their longtime employee Gregory Gardner, gave me a career when they promoted me from the Music Hall in Beverly Hills to work alongside them in the main office. In the years that followed, the Laemmles have given me so much, treating me like family. They let me telecommute from France for several months in 2022-2023. Bob gave me a loan for the down payment on my first home.  A legendary art house exhibitor, Bob was also the kindest of men, and is much missed.  

For the last 25 years, I’ve been working in the Laemmle office, programming trailers, proofreading and editing others’ writing about movies, sending hundreds of press releases, and sundry other things to help promote films that are in literally every language spoken on planet Earth. (I add a new language to our film database about ten times per year. Just this week I added Ga, which is spoken in Ghana.) It has been a privilege. 

To some fanfare, the New York Times recently published a feature about filmmakers’, actors’, critics’ and their readers’ favorite films of the last 25 years. So I figure I’ll do the same. I base my list on something Emily Dickinson said about poetry. I think it applies to movies too:

“If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?”

If I see a film and immediately know I want to see it again, I know I’ve seen a movie that reaches a level of cinematic poetry that Dickinson would recognize. And by “poetry” I don’t mean something pretentious. I think the bunk bed scene in the crude, brilliant farce STEP BROTHERS could make most of the population of the planet laugh.

Before I share my list, I want to say a few things about the many people I’ve worked with. One thing that’s fun about this job is it touches on a few different fields that make theatrical exhibition possible: exhibitors (the people I’ve worked with in the Laemmle office); exhibitor relations people, i.e. the U.S. studios/distributors of the films who coordinate with exhibitors; theater managers; and film media, i.e. the media and film critics. All are essential to getting films in front of audiences. There are too many terrific people I have worked with and admired to mention here, so I’ll single out one person from each area to thank them and sing their praises. 

Michele Anderson, née Cecilio, was the longtime general manager of the Laemmle NoHo 7 and later oversaw Laemmle Theatres’ operations. It was a privilege to watch her efficiency and problem-solving talent. She was like Alexander overcoming the Gordian knot with linear thinking, but doing it weekly. She made everyone’s job easier, including mine.

Matthew King has been working in the Laemmle main office about as long as I have. He worked with famed GM Roger Christensen at the Sunset 5 right after I did and went on to design and oversee all of the systems that make Laemmle Theatres run, not least a Filmmaker-based database that functions as our internal IMDB. (The first entry? The 1999 documentary Creature.) Matt once took a couple years off to work part-time and remotely while getting a bachelor’s degree in biological psychology from U.C. Berkeley. I figure he’s a literal genius and a deeply good person too.

I have loved good film criticism since my grandmother encouraged me to read Pauline Kael in The New Yorker. So I was a bit starstruck when I began working directly with local film critics like Manohla Dargis and Kenneth Turan. I met Chuck Wilson when the L.A. Weekly assigned him to review a compilation of Cuban films we were showing. Like other gifted film critics, Chuck can identify and celebrate a movie’s poetry – overall or merely in a scene, a shot, or a line reading – in writing that borders on poetry itself. Chuck and I would go on to become close friends, and he was the best man at my wedding in 2014.

Of the many people at studios/distributors I’ve worked with, Kim Kalyka of Neon Rated stands out. Originally from the Angelika Film Center, Miramax, and IFC Films, Kim is one of the reasons Parasite won the Best Picture Oscar and tops the New York Times list of best films of the century. I don’t know how she can accomplish things like that and still reply to my little emails about posters and trailers faster than anyone I’ve ever worked with, but that’s what she does.

Finally, to the Laemmle audience: Thank you for your passionate movie love and adventurous taste and continuing to see movies in theaters. You make Los Angeles the vibrant movie mecca that it is and have kept Laemmle Theatres in business since 1938.

And now, my list. Actually, I’m going to cheat and do two lists, one for foreign language films and another for films in English.

FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILMS

Amélie

The Beat That My Heart Skipped

Children of Heaven

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

Faces Places

The Gleaners and I

Let the Right One In

Parasite

Perfect Days

Portrait of a Lady on Fire

A Prophet

Roma

A Separation

Together (Lukas Moodysson, 2000)

Tomboy

Y tu mamá también

ENGLISH LANGUAGE FILMS

The Avengers Tetralogy

Best in Show

Bridesmaids

Dune: Parts One and Two

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

The Favourite

Get Out

Ghost World

The Grand Budapest Hotel

Happy-Go-Lucky

Hard Truths

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World

Minority Report

Moonlight

Mulholland Drive

Past Lives

Phantom Thread

The Royal Tenenbaums

Step Brothers

Nightmare Alley

TAR

There Will Be Blood

WALL·E

You Can Count on Me

Zodiac

 

 

Feast on this fall’s cornucopia of Culture Vulture screenings.

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We choose the best films from the world of ballet, opera, stage, fine art, architecture, design, photography and more to feature on the big screen every Saturday and Sunday morning and Monday evenings at five Laemmle theaters — the Laemmle Claremont 5, Glendale, Monica Film Center, Newhall, and Town Center 5 — as part of our long-running Culture Vulture series.

August 23-25: The first documentary exploring the visionary genius of Rudolph Schindler, the architect who redefined modern living by blending innovative design with the natural world, Schindler Space Architect is narrated by Meryl Streep and features architect Frank Gehry. The film affirms the singular genius of one man and the eternal challenge every artist faces to stay true to their vision in an effort to leave a lasting impact. We’ll bring the film back in November for a regular engagement at the Monica Film Center.

Culture Vulture skips Labor Day weekend but comes back to start autumn with:

September 6-8: Lotto and Berenson: Crossed Destinies follows the intertwined journeys of Lorenzo Lotto, a forgotten Renaissance master, and Bernard Berenson, the Jewish American art critic who resurrected his legacy. Through the eyes of actor Alessandro Sperduti, the film retraces Lotto’s artistic path across Italy, uncovering the painter’s personal and professional struggles.

September 13-15, Naked Ambition: Bunny Yeager, the photographer behind the bikini, Bettie Page’s rise, and the invention of the selfie, comes to life in this rediscovery of a brilliant yet overlooked artist, featuring testimonies from Bruce Weber, Dita Von Teese, and more. Also screening September 12 at the NoHo.

September 20-22: A Savage Art: The Life and Cartoons of Patrick Oliphant chronicles the life and career of the brilliant Australian-born, Pulitzer Prize-winning political cartoonist. Oliphant’s tenure as an American cartoonist spanned five decades and ten U.S. Presidents. In 1990 The New York Times called Oliphant “the most influential editorial cartoonist now working.” The film covers the history and importance of political cartoons in global democracies, as well as the decline in the profession and in the newspaper industry. Also screening September 17 at the Royal.

September 27-29, back by popular demand: The True Story of Tamara De Lempicka & the Art of Survival is a visually stunning and sweeping feature documentary that traces the life and survival of the renowned painter through her powerful paintings – from her rise to international stardom in 1920s Paris, to her move to the United States in 1940, fleeing the rise of fascism, and her revival in the current art market.

October 4-6, Inter Alia: Oscar-nominated Rosamund Pike (Gone Girl, Saltburn) is Jessica in the much-anticipated next play from the team behind Prima Facie. Jessica Parks is a smart Crown Court Judge at the top of her career. Behind the robe, she is a karaoke fiend, a loving wife and a supportive parent. When an event threatens to throw her life completely off balance, can she hold her family upright? Writer Suzie Miller and director Justin Martin reunite following their global phenomenon Prima Facie, with this searing examination of modern motherhood and masculinity.

October 11-13: Plunderer: The Life and Times of a Nazi Art Thief is a feature-length documentary that focuses on the career of Bruno Lohse, a Nazi art dealer who served as Göring’s art agent in Paris and headed the ERR, the Nazis’ clearinghouse for confiscated art in France. Captured and interrogated by the Monuments Men after the war, Lohse served a brief prison sentence. Following his release, he profitably dealt in stolen art for sixty years, selling to collectors, galleries, and major museums.

October 18-20: Jago: Into the White follows Jago, known worldwide as “the new Michelangelo,” for two years from New York to Naples as he worked day and night and in complete solitude on his new sculpture: a modern version of Michelangelo’s Pietà. Jago is not only an artist who retraces the footsteps of the great Renaissance masters, he is also a young pop star with over a million followers on social media, a tireless traveler who moves to every corner of the world, a motivator for new generations of artists, and an entrepreneur.

October 25-27, Rebel with a Clause: A grammar guru takes her pop-up grammar advice stand on an epic road trip across all 50 states to show that comma fights can bring us closer together in a divided time. One fall day, Ellen Jovin set up a folding table on a Manhattan sidewalk with a homemade sign that said “Grammar Table.” Right away, passersby began excitedly asking questions, telling stories, and filing complaints. What happened next is the stuff of grammar legend. Ellen and her filmmaker husband, Brandt Johnson, took the table on the road, visiting all 50 states as Brandt shot the grammar action. Also screening October 22 at the Royal.

November 1-3, Mrs. Warren’s Profession (National Theatre Live): Five-time Olivier Award-winner Imelda Staunton (The Crown) joins forces with her real-life daughter Bessie Carter (Bridgerton) for the very first time, playing mother and daughter in Bernard Shaw’s incendiary moral classic. Vivie Warren is a woman ahead of her time. Her mother, however, is a product of the old patriarchal order. Exploiting it has earned Mrs. Warren a fortune – but at what cost?

Repertory Cinema Lives! Bruce Goldstein on Film Forum, Rialto Pictures & restoring movie history.

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The latest episode of Inside the Arthouse features a luminary of the American indie, art house, and repertory exhibition scene, Bruce Goldstein. From the ITA website:

At Inside the Arthouse, we love discovering bold new voices and emerging filmmakers. But there’s something uniquely rewarding about revisiting a classic—whether it’s an old favorite or a legendary film you’ve always meant to watch. And seeing these films on the big screen in a real movie theater is the way they were meant to be experienced.

Repertory cinema in the U.S. has faced its share of challenges, from the rise of home video and streaming to rising urban real estate costs. Many iconic rep theaters have closed. But in recent years, there’s been a revival of interest in classic and cult films, shown theatrically in new restorations and 35mm prints.

One of the most influential figures in this movement is Bruce Goldstein, longtime repertory programmer at Film Forum in New York City and founder of Rialto Pictures. For over 50 years, Bruce has been a champion of film history—curating, restoring, and re-releasing cinematic landmarks. In early 2025, Rialto re-released Claude Lelouch’s A Man and a Woman, and coming soon is Forbidden Games, brand-new 4K restorations of Jean-Jacques Beineix’s Diva, [and, from Janus Films, The Lovers on the Bridge].

We sat down with Bruce Goldstein in New York to talk about the past, present, and future of repertory film programming in the U.S.—and how he’s helped shape what American audiences get to see on the big screen.