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appeal to many since its approach is both general and specific in its concise review of previous research and trends in the field as well as its presentation of new perspectives. In order to widen the net of readership and appreciation for the field, Neroni justly situates feminist theory within the larger discussion of ideology—which is perhaps not surprising given Slavoj Žižek’s role on the editorial board for the series. Neroni explains that“ideology prompts us to recognize that our individual beliefs are part of a larger system of beliefs” (8) and that we cannot “just erase ideology and live in an ideology-free zone” (11)—more specifically, in order to make changes with regard to a woman’s place in society and in film, one must work to make changes from the inside and not attempt to “tear down” entire systems. Subsequently, Neroni summarizes the origins of feminism in approachable terms, reminding readers that it was born out of “historical moments of inequality for women” and the need to “theorize the position of people who, though they make up half the population, are often erased from history, politics and culture” (86). The book moves quickly from the “advent of feminist film theory”—the seminal work of Laura Mulvey, Claire Johnston and Pam Cook, etc.— to bell hooks and black feminist film theory to finally the funding and censorship hurdles that women filmmakers face in Hollywood today. In the last chapter, Neroni’s substantial analysis of Cléo de 5 à 7 situates Varda’s film within the history of the French New Wave as well as within the context of Varda’s relationship to feminism. Neroni analyzes many aspects of the film that have been studied elsewhere—from the role mirrors play in the story of the eponymous character to the importance of location shooting—but with fresh nuances that render her analysis innovative. The book would be further indispensable if the final section had been more carefully edited (Cléo’s assistant’s name is spelled both “Angèle” and “Angéle” [115], among other issues). That said, Neroni’s concluding remarks on the privileging of “a questioning stance rather than providing a comfortable ending”(147) inVarda’s film are exceedingly astute and render the book a must-read in French feminist film theory courses. Boise State University (ID) Mariah Devereux Herbeck Seattle Sightings: The Seattle International Film Festival, 2016. . The forty-second edition of Seattle’s spring movie-marathon—twenty-five beautiful days spent in the dark (to borrow a major sponsor’s line)—programmed something for everyone, kids to hard-core cinephiles. French-language feature films were respectably present; selections from Africa and Quebec were quite impressive. Fortunately, by July 2016 a majority of the European-produced works have been acquired by American distributors, including Jean-Loup Felicioli and Alain Gagnol’s charming animation, Phantom Boy. Unfortunately, that is not the case for the non-European films, except for one Tunisian work. 242 FRENCH REVIEW 90.3 Reviews 243 SIFF continued its African Pictures program for a fourth year. From this section three fiction features from French-speaking countries were especially noteworthy, each featuring powerful performances by women in a central role. Much Loved (Nabil Ayouch, Morocco) offered a forthright look at the lives, work, and “family” solidarity of four prostitutes living together in Marrakesh, forcefully exposing the hypocrisy of a culture that simultaneously condemns prostitutes (prostitution is illegal) as it exploits them (Morocco is a real-life destination for sex tourism). In L’œil du cyclone (Sékou Traoré, Burkina Faso) a rising young avocate (European-educated and bent on obtaining justice in a corrupt system) attempts to defend a former child-soldier become a rebel commander accused of war crimes. Traoré adeptly raises an entire gamut of issues, from using children as soldiers to war profiteering. The situation of Farah, an underground band vocalist and protagonist of À peine j’ouvre les yeux (Leyla Bouzid, Tunisia), recalls the figure of Alia in an earlier Tunisian film, Moufida Tlatli’s Les silences du palais (1994). Alia defiantly sang the national anthem as the French administration gave way to the Ben Ali government; Farah’s...

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