Movie City Indie Archive for December, 2010

Calligraphing the new Wong Kar-Wai

So that’s what his swordplay pic’s about.

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Did Anyone Tell Ira Glass?

Was looking for examples of  great poster art from 2010, and found THIS not-so-subtle Italian retitling of the Dave Eggers-Vendela Vida-Sam Mendes Away We Go.

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Let It Snow: A Blizzard Symphony [UPDATED JAN 3]

An overnight drift, saluted by Roger Ebert, explained by filmmaker Jamie Stuart. [Stuart’s video went viral after Ebert’s oomph; he’s added a link to the press his sifty symphony has gotten—print, online and broadcast—here.]

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Terry Gilliam’s 1884 Animation Test

To be produced by Mr. Gilliam and directed by Tim Ollive. [Via Cory Doctorow.]

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SANTA AND THE ICE CREAM BUNNY

This seems… scary. A much more entertaining, exploitation-style newspaper ad from the 1972 release BELOW.

Read the full article »

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Teasing Kevin Smith’s Sundance-Debuting Horror, RED STATE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9K-4aLeGWF4&feature=player_embedded

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WTF FTW: Trailering Hanna

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRUx88vRjIk&feature=player_embedded

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A Fine Sundance-Bound Poster

David Lowery, whose St. Nick is very fine, posts this Sundance-bound poster. Here’s hoping the film is as fine. A story is offered at the link.

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A Conversation With Paul Greengrass

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A Well-Loved Christmas Tradition

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I Know What You Did Last Year At Marienbad

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The Inception of Movie Editing: The Art of D. W. Griffith

A video essay by Michael Joshua Rowin and Kevin B. Lee. Worth it for a glimpse of a tinted Intolerance backed by Hans Zimmer’s Inception score as well as its punchline.  Text. [Via Matt Zoller Seitz (@mattzollerseitz).]

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One Minkey and Many Birdie Num-Nums: Blake Edwards Was 88

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Movie City Indie

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“I was 15 when I first watched Sally Hardesty escape into the back of a pickup truck, covered in blood and cackling like a goddamn witch. All of her friends were dead. She had been kidnapped, tortured and even forced to feed her own blood to her cannibalistic captors’ impossibly shriveled patriarch. Being new to the horror genre, I was sure she was going to die. It had been a few months since I survived a violent sexual assault, where I subsequently ran from my assailant, tripped, fell and fought like hell. I crawled home with bloody knees, makeup-stained cheeks and a new void in both my mind and heart. My sense of safety, my ability to trust others, my willingness to form new relationships and my love of spending time with people I cared about were all taken from me. It wasn’t until I found the original The Texas Chain Saw Massacre that something clicked. It was Sally’s strength, and her resilience. It was watching her survive blows to the head from a hammer. It was watching her break free from her bonds and burst through a glass window. It was watching her get back up after she’d been stabbed. It was watching her crawl into the back of a truck, laughing as it drove away from Leatherface. She was the last one to confront the killer, and live. I remember sitting in front of the TV and thinking, There I am. That’s me.”
~ Lauren Milici On “The Final Girl”

“‘Thriller’ enforced its own reality principle; it was there, part of the every commute, a serenade to every errand, a referent to every purchase, a fact of every life. You didn’t have to like it, you only had to acknowledge it. By July 6, 1984, when the Jacksons played the first show of their ‘Victory’ tour, in Kansas City, Missouri, Jacksonism had produced a system of commodification so complete that whatever and whoever was admitted to it instantly became a new commodity. People were no longer comsuming commodities as such things are conventionally understood (records, videos, posters, books, magazines, key rings, earrings necklaces pins buttons wigs voice-altering devices Pepsis t-shirts underwear hats scarves gloves jackets – and why were there no jeans called Bille Jeans?); they were consuming their own gestures of consumption. That is, they were consuming not a Tayloristic Michael Jackson, or any licensed facsimile, but themselves. Riding a Mobius strip of pure capitalism, that was the transubstantiation.”
~ Greil Marcus On Michael Jackson