In its preoccupations and formal economy Deer Season feels of a lineage of twentieth-century American stories, but the men’s experiences are contemporary. When McHarg’s character confesses, euphemistically, of fronting happiness to hide a near-terminal depression, the slightest phrase – “all those pictures?” – signals a mode of self-alienation specific to the post-Facebook age.
Sednaoui spends the time waiting for, then searching out, a mysterious painting, in a lightly avant-garde story she leads with subtle, languid range, that pairs Leon Jean-Marie’s persistent, curious, string-forward score.
Cry of the City shares its title with the partially remembered Robert Siodmak noir from 1948, a film in its design and making so fastidiously monochromatic that it would have probably looked black and white shot in colour.
In Claudio Marcotulli’s kaleidoscopic Zenú, Ignacio (Marcotulli) is a musician creatively blocked by the incessant whistling of the trains that pass his canalside house. A local fisherman (Jose Payes) is a sage if elliptical voice: “this net is not mine,” he explains when Ignacio, in questioning his claim of a productive morning’s fishing, remarks on its emptiness.