There are films that do not begin with a title screen. They begin with a feeling. A quietness. A scent. A strange shift in the weight of the moment that tells you—you’re no longer here. You’ve crossed into somewhere else. I remember sitting in the dark hall of the Soviet embassy, its heavy curtains drawn…
Enjoyed this article? Read the full piece and our ever-growing archive by taking an online membership. Members receive 10% off at the TIFAM Newsagent and sustain a community magazine that runs as a non-profit, carried by dedicated volunteers. Your support keeps the work alive. —
take your membership here.
