Victor Erice's THE SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE (Spain, 1973)

This could become a fav'rite. No effects
Or special sets were needed, just a child
Immersed in her imaginary texts,
In Frankenstein, in spirit stories, wild
Yet simple. Warm and golden Spanish light
And perfect little actors, and, yes, bees
And mushrooms, it's from these things in the night
As spun out by her sister, Ana sees
Her own world's monsters, in the only sense
That she can make of them. Her world is small
And something new has entered it, intense
And scary? Maybe. But you must recall
The little girl with daisies made a friend
In that film. All is balanced in the end.

Chris Marker's LETTER FROM SIBERIA (France, 1957)

It's all about the editing with Chris
And Marker, even early, does it well.
I knew that going in. But what is this?
Such whimsy, even cartooned moments swell
The range of tones achieved here as we cross
The taiga and the towns. At times there seems
A hint of propaganda with a sauce
Of satire -- to remind us the regime
Is still totalitarian? But look
As Sacha Vierny's eye contrasts with all
(I am a Sacha fangirl). This film took
Too little time in ending. I would fall
Enrapt to silence for a day-long cut.
For eye-candy, I've got a greedy gut.

Michael Haneke's THE CASTLE (Austria, 1997)

The Kafka novel gets a bleaker take

From Haneke, with a modern, 90s set.

While Ulrich Muhe's mournful face can make

One cry all by itself, a certain bet:

'Twill break your heart, as K, I could have done

Without the voice of Udo Samel as

A narrator whose dullness made me numb

And wasn't needed. What this film, though, has

That's good is close and clausterphobic scenes

And side-scrolled ones in snow that both combine

To show a small and cheerless world. This all means

It's competent, but none would call it fine.

In short, it's hard to see the master hand

Of its director. Was that what he'd planned?