By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

Jim Jarmusch

“Yeah. I’m a self-proclaimed dilettante, and it’s not negative to me, because I’m interested in so many things, from 17th-century English music, to mushroom identification, to various varieties of ferns, to all kinds of stuff. How can I, in one lifetime—I could be like Adam and Eve in Only Lovers, I wouldn’t be a dilettante, because they actually know. He knows how to build a generator, and she knows the Latin identification of everything. But I’m a dilettante because I don’t have enough time. And there are too many incredible things that I get attracted to, and so my head’s always spinning around. But that’s okay. Being a dilettante is helpful if you make films, because films have all these other forms in them. I’ve been finding more and more a lot of great directors I love were dilettantes or are. Like Nick Ray, prime example. Studied architecture with Frank Lloyd Wright, had Bertolt Brecht crash on his sofa, had a radio show of Appalachian music and rural blues in the ’30s, was a painter, read voraciously, knew all about baseball. I know Howard Hawks had an incredible variety of interests. And Buñuel. My thing is dilettantism, amateurism—I believe that I’m an amateur, because amateur means you do something for the love of a form, and professional means you do it for your job, you get paid, and nothing against that!—and variations. That’s my holy trinity lately of what my defining priorities are: being a dilettante, being an amateur, and appreciating variations in all expression. Because I love variations. To me, it’s the most beautiful form, to accept that all things are really variations on other things.”
~ Jim Jarmusch To Amy Taubin

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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