Angelopoulos’ last film—a quintessential “late work”—sketches his themes, placing them in a 21st-century context where they don’t exactly fit. The film is as purposefully senescent as most of its characters, revealing a filmmaker uncomfortable with today’s Europe, exiled from Greece in order to make a film for the international marketplace rather than for art houses. Willem Dafoe plays a film director akin to the ones in Voyage to Cythera and Ulysses’ Gaze, but without the detachment and authenticity of Giulio Brogi in the former or the intensity and emotionality of Harvey Keitel in the latter. An international-intrigue thriller touching on terrorism, body scanning and homelessness, The Dust of Time litters dozens of smashed television sets on the stairs of a luxury hotel. Post-cinema, it’s also post-TV.