This is a total cop-out of an admission, but the best film I saw in my recent trip to the Karlovy Vary Film Festival was one I'd seen before. (Okay, including what I caught in the Jean-Pierre Melville retrospective, I should amend that to the best few films. But let us not split hairs.) The week hadn't wanted for worthwhile discoveries, but things swam into perspective when, in the last few hours before I had to leave for the airport, I impulsively ducked into a screening of Yorgos Lanthimos's "Alps." Coming out of it a second time, everything else I'd seen that week looked a shade smaller, a little more finite, by comparison.
Regular readers might remember I fell hard for Lanthimos's playful, existentially preoccupied follow-up to "Dogtooth" at Venice nearly a year ago: it was my favorite film of the festival, and wound up in my Top 5 of 2011. But it plays even better on a second go-round.