Bresson

“My heroes were the European street photographers — Atget, Kertész, Bresson. But here, the elements in the urban landscape are designed for cars driving by and they’re screaming for attention, and color is a big part of that. I do a lot of my shooting on weekends, Sunday mornings, and late in the day. The light comes through the atmosphere, sometimes smog, and you get color.”

Heavy on folk belief, it flirts with Bresson’s “Diary of a Country Priest” and the divine madness the Greeks called theia mania.

Robert Bresson ended his career in his 80s with two of his most fevered and angry works, “The Devil Probably” and “L’’Argent.”

Like Bresson, Jackson uses hands to remind us that our identities consist of more than faces and names, that a touch or a gesture can be equally expressive of who we are.

Its adventurousness owes something to French cinema, from Jacques Rivette and Jean-Luc Godard to, most explicitly, Robert Bresson, whose “L’Argent,” a much darker drama of crime and punishment, figures into the story at one key juncture.