Movie City Indie Archive for February, 2011

The Selected Jane Russell From Howard Hughes’ THE OUTLAW

And from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
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Annie Girardot in ROCCO AND HIS BROTHERS

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BySmN6t5ezs&feature=player_embedded

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Charlie Sheen in FERRIS BUELLER: At The Station For Drugs

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

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Happy 103, Tex Avery

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlgHalJ1-p4&feature=player_embedded

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Banksy’s L.A.test Outdoor Art

[Click for larger. Via.]

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Trailering “Shaun Of The Dead Island”

Nice music! Where’s that from?

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Chris Marker’s TEMPO RISOLUTO

From the “Kosinski”/”Guillaume” YouTube account, montage on revolt in Middle East and Northern Africa.

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Happy 111, Luis Buñuel

“God, death, sex, dry martini, dreams.”

From “My Last Sigh,” Don Luis’ recipe for the very dry Virgin Martini. “To provoke, or sustain, a reverie in a bar, you have to drink English gin, especially in the form of the dry martini. To be frank, given the primordial role played in my life by the dry martini, I think I really ought to give it at least a page. Like all cocktails, the martini, composed essentially of gin and a few drops of Noilly Prat, seems to have been an American invention. Connoisseurs who like their martinis very dry suggest simply allowing a ray of sunlight to shine through a bottle of Noilly Prat before it hits the bottle of gin. At a certain period in America it was said that the making of a dry martini should resemble the Immaculate Conception, for, as Saint Thomas Aquinas once noted, the generative power of the Holy Ghost pierced the Virgin’s hymen “like a ray of sunlight through a window — leaving it unbroken.”

Another crucial recommendation is that the ice be so cold and hard that it won’t melt, since nothing’s worse than a watery martini. For those who are still with me, let me give you my personal recipe, the fruit of long experimentation and guaranteed to produce perfect results. The day before your guests arrive, put all the ingredients — glasses, gin, and shaker — in the refrigerator. Use a thermometer to make sure the ice is about twenty degrees below zero (centigrade). Don’t take anything out until your friends arrive; then pour a few drops of Noilly Prat and half a demitasse spoon of Angostura bitters over the ice. Shake it, then pour it out, keeping only the ice, which retains a faint taste of both. Then pour straight gin over the ice, shake it again, and serve. (During the 1940s, the director of the Museum of Modern Art in New York taught me a curious variation. Instead of Angostura, he used a dash of Pernod. Frankly, it seemed heretical to me, but apparently it was only a fad.)”

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Sofia Directs Natalie For Dior

Via Russian Tatler, with more stills from the shoot of Coppola’s commercial with Portman and photographer Tim Walker at the link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6yCw6Mvh69A&feature=player_embedded

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Michael Kahn’s A.C.E. Lifetime Achievement Tribute Reel

As shown at Saturday night’s American Cinema Editors awards. Edited by Carsten Kurpanek & Rosanne Colello.  Via Edgar Wright.

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SxSW: Teasing Aussie Ha’penny Indie LBF: A POP-ART FILM

http://vimeo.com/14550093&feature=player_embedded

Based on the 2006 novel, “Life Between Fucks,”  by “Cry Bloxsome,” made over a period of months for under $25,000, according to the makers. A hot Australian summer… [Site.]

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MNSFW: Trailering “Dead Island”

Yes, I now have an idea about the texture and mood of this game. Even beyond the great gushing geyers of grue. Wonder how much story there was to draw on for a terrific trailer like this.

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Radiohead’s “Lotus Flower,” By Garth Jennings

Gosh. I mean, gosh. Goofy goofy beauty. The NME offers inventive explanations for Mr. Yorke’s moves.

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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