Hell yeah, Edgar Wright!
Another great essay from Tony Zhou, this time about why most modern comedy films are terrible except for everything by the great Edgar Wright.
Another great essay from Tony Zhou, this time about why most modern comedy films are terrible except for everything by the great Edgar Wright.
Hana Beshara helped operate a website that streamed "pirated" movies and TV shows. She was caught as part of a sting by the Department of Homeland Security. She went to federal prison for almost a year and a half. This and other arrests of similarly hardened criminals has stopped movie "piracy" in its tracks. Wait, um, no, not stopped...what's the phrase? Oh, yeah: had absolutely no effect on movie piracy whatsoever.
You can say, The law is the law and If you can't do the time, don't do the crime. Except that the law has been written by giant media corporations and their lobbyists to protect their own decades-old business models. The history of entrepreneurship—particularly in the media industries—is essentially a story of one "illegal" assault on old technologies and outmoded business models after another, trademark wars, intellectual property "theft," and rampant bootlegging that then turned into, say, the motion picture business, or radio, or cable television, or the VCR. Funded Ivy-league prodigies become billionaires doing this. Less gilded kids go to federal prison.
"Detasseling work is usually performed by teens; as such, it serves as a typical rite of passage in rural areas of the Corn Belt of the Midwestern United States."
The former home of the Capri V theater. Ottumwa, IA.
This is more like how I remember it. Fourth of July, 1997. Men in Black was on its way to $51 million. John "Magic" Thompson and I launched bottle rockets down Main Street from the roof. Fireworks later, across the river over Memorial Park.
Great mashup artist, or the Greatest mashup artist?
I don’t know what Terminator 5 is going to be about, of course, since it won’t be out for a year, but here’s what I think should happen in T6:
A Terminator is sent back in time to kill John Conner when he’s like, whatever, 30, or something. (I know, the world ended in T3. Big deal, it’s time travel, blah-blah-blah, magic.) Anywho, the robot succeeds, in the first ten minutes of the film. Bam, Conner’s dead, mission accomplished. (Bonus if this time the adult Conner is played by Edward Furlong.)
Now the Terminator has to adjust to just hanging around in the present with nothing to do. He has to “live his life.” So he does stuff, meets people, becomes a member of the community, goes to college, falls in love, whatever. Eventually, he develops empathy for human beings and comes to regret what he’s done.
So he puts himself in deep-freeze or something and waits for the rise of the machines, then he hops back in the time machine, goes back in time and stops himself from killing John Conner. The End.
You’re welcome, Terminator producers.
Every Frame a Painting’s Tony Zhou is back with an excellent essay on Satoshi Kon’s editing style. Four years after his passing, we still haven’t quite caught up to Satoshi Kon, one of the great visionaries of modern film. In just four features and one TV series, he developed a unique style of editing that distorted and warped space and time. Join us in honoring the greatest Japanese animator not named Miyazaki.
Satoshi Kon (今 敏) was a Japanese anime directer, writer, and manga artist. His artistic vision and penchant for blending reality with dreams and the subconscious made him one of the few modern artists pushing anime forward. Mr. Kon is best known for directing Perfect Blue, Millennium Actress, Paprika, and Tokyo Godfathers. He also directed the psychological horror anime series Paranoia Agent. Mr. Kon was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in May of 2010, and passed away at the age of 46 on August 24, 2010. You can read his final words here. Mr. Kon was working on a new film called The Dream Machine at the time of his passing. It has recently been announced that production on the movie will continue, though doubtless the completion of the movie will be bittersweet for both the fans and those at Madhouse Inc. —Fuck Yeah, Satoshi Kon
"[Katushiro] Otomo’s influence on Del Toro was made evident as the Mexican director revealed that he actually modeled “Pacific Rim” character Marshall Pentecost on the Colonel appearing in “Akira”." [x]
This is a brilliant primer on the uses and abuses of the cinematic frame.
“If you’re that rare engineer who’s an inventor and also an artist, I’m going to give you some advice that might be hard to take. That advice is: Work alone. You’re going to be best able to design revolutionary products and features if you’re working on your own. Not on a committee. Not on a team.”
Another impressive short by the great Phillip Bloom, all the more so for being shot on a fucking GoPro attached to a $1000 quad copter.
Orson Welles talks to Huw Wheldon on the BBC show ‘Monitor’ (1960) about his work as actor, director and filmmaker, with clips from his films, ‘Citizen Kane’ and ‘The Magnificent Ambersons.’
Also, recommended viewing: Huw Wheldon interviews Orson Welles, Peter O’Toole and Ernest Milton in this epic discussion of ‘Hamlet’ on the same BBC show from 1963. At the time this programme was made, Peter O’Toole was enjoying his first taste of stardom, having been nominated for an Oscar for his leading role in David Lean’s masterpiece, ‘Lawrence of Arabia.’ During the same year (1963), he would also star as ‘Hamlet’ in the National Theatre’s inaugural performance, directed by Laurence Olivier. O’Toole’s stage credentials were impeccable, as he had been recruited to the Royal Shakespeare Company by Peter Hall at the tender age of 26.
Required viewing: a vintage interview captures the artist reflecting on ‘Citizen Kane’ and expounding on directing, acting and writing and his desire to bestow a valuable legacy upon his profession. The scene is a hotel room in Paris. The year 1960. The star, Orson Welles. This is a pearl of cinematic memorabilia.
Last night at The Exploratorium in San Francisco, I met Kyle MacLachlan, a longtime hero of mine for his portrayal of Agent Cooper on Twin Peaks, my favorite TV character (and TV show) of all time. He was filming a segment for a cable series but was gracious enough to take a picture with a fan. Thanks, Coop!
“Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita / mi ritrovai per una selva oscura / che la diritta via era smarrita.
In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.
”
Dante Alighieri, Inferno / translated by John D. Sinclair
"There’s no more drinking or not drinking the Kool-Aid, in other words. The Kool-Aid is raining from the skies and seeping into the groundwater. You can argue that the world’s most entertaining and subversive infomercial is still just an infomercial, but it will only make you sound like a spoilsport. (Isn’t “Star Wars” really just an ad for toys, too, in the eyes of Lord Business?) Maybe most of us no longer care about such distinctions. Movie or toy ad, critique or paid advertisement, party or promotional event, it’s all the same, so why bellyache over such trivia?"
from this article by Heather Havrilesky
This is an interesting piece—the above quoted segment reminds me of the way I hear the kids today using the word “hater.” A “hater,” you see, is someone who criticizes something. I enjoyed The Lego Movie quite a bit, but I would never argue that it was truly subversive or that it wasn’t essentially a commercial. I suggest that anyone who can’t see that replace the word Lego in the title with the word Chevron or Coca-Cola.
After the Twitter snarkfest died down after Sunday’s ceremony (e.g., via The Daily Mail, @chrischua007 tweeted ‘Kim Novak’s face just won for Frozen’) the backlash to the snarkfest was next. The general theme was a lamentation of the cruel Hollywood machine and what it did to poor Kim Novak. Cruel Hollywood machine, check. Deep-seated, multi-generational misogyny, check. Doing this to your own face—wait, did “Hollywood” do this to Kim Novak’s face?
Why isn’t it an insult to suggest that? To suggest that she is only, still, just a vessel for the twisted desires of men? That she has no agency? To suggest that this was somehow something she had to do, or felt compelled to do, while not also at least mentioning her own apparent batshit insanity?
What I mean is, this was ultimately her own choice to make, yes? If we react in horror, shall we blame Harry Cohn or Alfred Hitchcock or Hollywood itself rather than her own pathological vanity?