We could tie ourselves in knots, draw party lines, and make blood oaths declaring cinema’s greatest-evers: directors, actors, screenwriters, even studios or entire national output. I have rarely heard a conversation for greatest-ever producer, so allow me to propose that this title belongs––so clearly it’s unprecedented among such conversation––to Paulo Branco. He deserves consideration for decades spent shepherding the visions of Raúl Ruiz and Manoel De Oliveira alone; remove them from the equation and there’s still major films by David Cronenberg, Chantal Akerman, Pedro Costa, Wim Wenders, or João César Monteiro, to say nothing of Christophe Honoré, Rita Azevedo Gomes, or Mathieu Amalric, or films whose exposure is still so limited they’ve not yet pierced any cinephile canon, however deserving they may be.
When I saw Branco would be at this year’s Tokyo International Film Festival on behalf of The Englishman’s Papers, a new feature he’s produced,...
When I saw Branco would be at this year’s Tokyo International Film Festival on behalf of The Englishman’s Papers, a new feature he’s produced,...
- 11/4/2024
- by Nick Newman
- The Film Stage
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