For all the sixth borough talk that’s gone on in the past year, there’s one thing that’s undeniable: Philadelphia is a city without film culture. Apart from what’s curated at International House or appears haphazardly at local colleges, there’s no independent or repertory cinema to speak of. The two Philadelphia film festivals are spotty at best and run so late in the festival season that many offerings have already screened well in advance of the festival. Despite the heavy lifting of several good local critics, there just isn’t much “there” there. It’s not hard to see why Netflix has taken off in cities like ours [or, as the case may be, the films aren’t in print, in which case Rossellini may as well be a unicorn.]