By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

Alejandro Jodorowsky

“For six years, every day, I have been doing 250 tweets. It’s like the Japanese haiku. You can make a poem with just a few characters. You can make it philosophical, psychological. It’s a spiritual form. My father believed that when you die you rot and are finished. I do not have a metaphysical upbringing, but I cannot say God does not exist. Life is not ‘by chance’. Like a monkey we cannot understand it. But step by step, through our lives, we see so many synchronicities and synergies, so many miracles. There is a union in everything. Church, though, the organised church. That is a political and economic sector. Very bad! My church is polyvalent. It contains all the arts! Not just arts. You have philosophy, science, psychology, as well as music, sculpture, architecture, dance. You have everything. My goal is not money, and not taking money. Not when it goes against what I want to do. I must refuse to change a word or an image. Even if I have to be a sacred beggar. It is art, and art is life. We need to take a risk to lose everything!”
~ Alejandro Jodorowsky

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“All of the security, all of the waiters, all of the musicians … that’s 3,000 people!” The shopping required fifty tractor trailers. The are thirty gallons of cocktail sauce; 350 pounds of smoked salmon; 200 pounds of brussels sprouts, 250 pounds parmesan cheese; 3,600 eggs; 6,000 mini-brioche buns; five gallons of hot fudge; 20 pounds pickled ginger; 30 pounds edible gold dust; 7,000 miniature chocolate Oscars. There are 1,400 bottles of Piper-Heidsieck champagne and 2,200 bottles from Francis Ford Coppola’s winery. This will be served in and upon 13,000 glasses, 4,500 bamboo skewers, 4,800 ramekins and 6,000 cocktail forks.”
~ Wolfgang Puck Goes Oscar Dinner Shopping

“While these images seem to reveal all, they disclose nothing beneath the surface. All that we know is what we see onscreen and that Seberg’s face is delicate and lightly creased. She’s rarely shown smiling, although there are instances when she laughs emphatically, moments that feel uncomfortable and artificial, as if she were trying out an emotion she had forgotten. We know the texture of her skin; the patterns on the walls; the depth of field; the quality of the light; the contrast of the black-and-white film; the level of grain; the dowdiness of her clothes. She’s partial to granny dresses, or maybe they’re nightgowns, and when she stands in front of a window, the sunlight glows softly, creating a kind of ravishing halo effect: Saint Jean.”
~ Manohla Dargis On Philippe Garrel’s Les Hautes Solitudes