The Great Buster: A Celebration (Peter Bogdanovich, 2018). Rarely has a director been more in their element than Peter Bogdanovich is with this documentary survey of the life and career of Buster Keaton. The film features the requisite interviews with admirers, some of whom were friendly with the elderly Keaton or his family, as well as a hearty sampling of clips that demonstrate the gifted filmmaker’s ingenuity and onscreen daring. Much as The Great Buster: A Celebration is distinguished by the casual film professor vibe of Bogdanovich’s narration, the truly inspired aspect of the documentary is the choice to briefly deviate from a straight chronological march through Keaton’s filmography so that his strongest features can be reserved to the end. Simply by finishing with Keaton’s clear artistic pinnacle, Bogdanovich emphasizes that the greatness cited in the documentary’s title is not only accurate, it just might be an understatement.

X Y & ZEE (Brian G. Hutton, 1972). This bleakly comic drama is like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? updated for the key party seediness of the nineteen-seventies, when members of the upper middle class awkwardly adopted the trappings of the counterculture. That comparison admittedly springs to mind in part due the presence of Elizabeth Taylor, overacting with entertaining gusto as Zee Blakeley, a wronged wife who is set into whirlwinds of disruption when her philandering husband (Michael Caine) takes up with a young fashion designer (Susannah York). Novelist Edna O’Brien wrote the screenplay, but her deep-dive characterizations get lost in the grinding mechanics of the miserable plot. In O’Brien’s defense, she claimed that director Brian G. Hutton butchered what she wrote, and his wavering tone and sluggish pacing do suggest that his feel for the piece was off. Except for Taylor, the performances are drab at best; X Y & Zee is one of those films where Caine gets by with lots of tactically suspect yelling.

A Love Song (Max Walker-Silverman, 2022). The feature debut by Max Walker-Silverman is a quiet treasure. Dale Dickey gives a marvelous, deeply felt performance as Faye, a woman waiting for a visitor at a modest, desolate campsite. Walker-Silverman is admirably patient in his storytelling, yet also fully committed to keeping the film fully engaging as he takes his time getting to the emotional heavy lifts. In particular, each recurring appearance of a family of taciturn ranchers is a joy. In its confident elegance, A Love Song recalls the finest works of Chloé Zhao. I consider that quite a compliment. Wes Studi is exceptional in a supporting role. When he and Dickey are on screen together, they demonstrate the way actors can carry entire histories in their gestures and very demeanors.