Synopsis
A muscular movement from a Sergei Prokofiev symphony commands our attention even against the blackness of a blank screen. The darkness eventually gives way to a roasted-pumpkin orange title card and images of a lovely nude running through the woods. Scratches in the film (celluloid!) correspond to scratches on the soundtrack (vinyl!), but AUTUMNAL DIPTYCH is not an elegy to decay and death, its title notwithstanding. Every frame conveys joy at being alive (and at making movies). - Michael Fox
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