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The Criterion Collection - B -

Antonioni leaves Italy for Swinging London. A fashion photographer (David Hemmings) thinks he’s photographed a murder. Or did he? This is the film that invented the "blow-up-the-photo" trope, but it’s less a thriller than a meditation on the impossibility of truth. Plus: The Yardbirds with a young Jimmy Page smashing his guitar.

Vittorio De Sica’s neorealist gut-punch. The plot is so simple (man needs bike to work; bike gets stolen; man looks for bike) that its emotional devastation feels almost accidental. You will watch Antonio and his son Bruno walk through Rome, and you will feel the weight of every broken promise of the post-war era. Essential. The Criterion Collection - B

Here are the highlights (and the deep cuts) from the Criterion Collection’s "B" section. Spine #209: Beauty and the Beast (1946) Before Disney, there was Cocteau. This is not a children’s film; it’s a surrealist poem about loneliness. The living candelabras are creepy, the beast is heartbreaking, and the final shot of Jean Marais flying through the starry sky is pure magic. If you own only one French fantasy film, make it this one. Antonioni leaves Italy for Swinging London

Antonioni leaves Italy for Swinging London. A fashion photographer (David Hemmings) thinks he’s photographed a murder. Or did he? This is the film that invented the "blow-up-the-photo" trope, but it’s less a thriller than a meditation on the impossibility of truth. Plus: The Yardbirds with a young Jimmy Page smashing his guitar.

Vittorio De Sica’s neorealist gut-punch. The plot is so simple (man needs bike to work; bike gets stolen; man looks for bike) that its emotional devastation feels almost accidental. You will watch Antonio and his son Bruno walk through Rome, and you will feel the weight of every broken promise of the post-war era. Essential.

Here are the highlights (and the deep cuts) from the Criterion Collection’s "B" section. Spine #209: Beauty and the Beast (1946) Before Disney, there was Cocteau. This is not a children’s film; it’s a surrealist poem about loneliness. The living candelabras are creepy, the beast is heartbreaking, and the final shot of Jean Marais flying through the starry sky is pure magic. If you own only one French fantasy film, make it this one.