Originally blacklisted in Argentina and now the most widely viewed film in the Heritage Film Project catalogue, Evita (2005) achieved its unusual evenness of tone through a single deliberate choice: the script was written in English rather than Spanish — the director's first screenplay in his second language. A close reading of how that linguistic distance produced the most balanced portrait yet of one of the twentieth century's most polarizing political figures.

Carola Saavedra: Between Berlin and a Place Named Peixoto is an award-winning Heritage Film Project production directed by Eduardo Montes-Bradley, part of his ongoing series of documentary essays on contemporary authors.

A 1970 Buenos Aires LP of Alban Berg’s Chamber Concerto leads back to a 1954 Vienna recording session, a Hannover-born conductor Alma Mahler had trusted, and a New Year’s Eve ritual in a Greenwich Village townhouse where two record producers poured molten lead into cold water and read the shapes.

James Monroe owned Monroe Hill from 1789 to 1799 — the exact decade of the French Revolution, with most of it spent in Paris during the Reign of Terror. A note on the film, the Jefferson Trust, the absent landlord whose hill became the cradle of the University of Virginia, a rumor of Monroe's face in David's Coronation of Napoleon, and the unmarked grave of his daughter Eliza at Père Lachaise — a few rows from Jim Morrison.

A documentary portrait of Romanian Jewish settlers on the Saskatchewan prairie — told through the reflections of Rabbi Tuffs — tracing the flight from persecution, the hardship of sod dwellings, the tragedy of a woman buried near the fence, and the Talmudic warning that no amount of land is worth separating yourself from the community.

A catalogue of documentary films actively curated into programs designed to reach their rightful audience. Four trilogies — on the American Renaissance, Latin American literature, African American history, and three unparalleled women in the arts — now available for institutional programming, with more to come.

Leon Botstein had agreed to sit before our camera earlier in the year, but a sequence of inconveniences pushed our meeting past the date we had set for the avant-première at the Century. When the interview finally happened, at his residence at Bard, he gave us not an answer but an essay — on Bristow, Dvořák, the modern piano, and the long, unfinished business of figuring out what America sounds like.

Robert C. Morgan visits Paul Chaleff's Pine Plains studio and finds a sculptor working the fault line where two dimensions become three — where a vessel becomes a sculpture, where function dissolves into form. A meditation on clay as a tactile counterweight to the digital fatigue of our age.

Norberto Ramírez's Sonidos de Salta is one of Latin America's most significant oral heritage archives — a living sound bank documenting the writers, inhabitants, and landscapes of Argentina's northwest. A resource for academic institutions in ethnomusicology, musicology, and cultural anthropology.

El Banco Sonoro de Salta, creado por Norberto Ramírez, es uno de los archivos de patrimonio oral más significativos de América Latina — un banco sonoro vivo que documenta escritores, pobladores y paisajes del noroeste argentino. Un recurso para instituciones académicas en etnomusicología, musicología y antropología cultural

John Woo's Face/Off is a genuinely original piece of cinema. But originality is a more interesting thing than we usually give it credit for. The most original works are not the ones that arrive from nowhere — nothing arrives from nowhere — but the ones that cast a new light on myths and narrative tensions that have been traveling through human storytelling for centuries. That new light doesn't diminish what came before. It illuminates it.

How three documentaries — on Daniel Chester French, the Piccirilli Brothers, and George Frederick Bristow — became, almost by accident, a trilogy about the nineteenth-century American search for a cultural identity. A reflection on sculpture, music, authorship, and the long shadow of Massa-Carrara.

You probably know Piazzolla from Adiós Nonino, or from the Kronos Quartet recording that made a generation of American listeners suddenly aware that something extraordinary had been happening in Buenos Aires for thirty years without their knowing. What is harder to explain is why it took so long — not for American audiences to discover him, but for Buenos Aires itself to accept what he had made.

A stained glass window is a work of art — a dialogue between form, light, and color. Its fragility is comparable to human life, and yet like human beings it is capable of withstanding the assaults of time and oblivion. To preserve this heritage is to recognize where we come from and what road has brought us here.

Life and Music in the Age of George Frederick Bristow soon to be release through Alexander Street / ProQuest, reaching universities, colleges, and public libraries worldwide. A 65-minute documentary about a composer New York forgot — and why that forgetting matters.