There is an American director who has premiered six movies at Cannes and two at Venice. He has worked with the following actors, among others: Brad Pitt, Gwyneth Paltrow, Joaquin Phoenix, Anne Hathaway, Scarlett Johansson, Adam Driver, Mark Wahlberg, Marion Cotillard, Charlize Theron, Robert Pattinson, Tom Holland, Vanessa Redgrave, Isabella Rossellini, Faye Dunaway, Ellen Burstyn, Jessica Chastain. He has made period epics, New York crime pictures, a political drama, a romance, and a far-flung sci-fi adventure. And it’s possible you’ve never seen one of his films. 

I’m referring to James Gray, the Brooklyn-bred director of movies like We Own the Night, The Lost City of Z, and the new film Paper Tiger (out in limited release this week). He’s an auteur beloved by (some) critics, continuously feted at high-profile festivals, and sought out by movie stars. And yet, he’s never quite broken into the ranks of A-list directors, for reasons both bewildering and vexing. 

Probably the biggest, worst story surrounding Gray’s career is that on more than one occasion, his films were sabotaged by Harvey Weinstein. Both the 2000 film The Yards and 2013’s The Immigrant were meddled with to some degree by the disgraced producer, particularly costing the latter film the Oscar run some thought it deserved. In other cases, like 2016’s The Lost City of Z—Gray’s true masterpiece, in my estimation—suffered simply from a more benign form of distributor mismanagement. The film premiered at the New York Film Festival in time for a fall awards campaign, but was unceremoniously dumped the following April instead. 

Which is all a shame, because while Gray’s films aren’t perfect, they are filled with  vivid (and yet controlled) artistry and often feature terrific performances from committed, dialed-in actors. Gray is a robust, old-fashioned filmmaker who, yes, has had far more success than most directors could ever hope for, but has nonetheless gone somewhat under-heralded. I love watching his movies, whether they’re mournfully surveying outer-borough crime and consequence, or taking us on sprawling journeys into the nature of life itself.