[Ahem. Sorry.]
Hie thee to BAMcinématek August 26 through September 16, New Yorkers, for "I Can Hear the Guitar: Selected by Olivier Assayas," and report back.
In the Village Voice this week, French director Assayas--to whom the cinetrix will forever owe a debt for giving the world the transcendent Irma Vep--"trie[s] to describe my own idiosyncratic relationship to rock music and how it connects with my idiosyncratic relationship to cinema."
Music to my ears.
Granted, there's some wankerish lionizing of Cahiers stuff, like Godard's One Plus One, to wade through, but then Assayas breaks it down. Here are some highlights:
The '60s: New American cinema Then, music came on tiptoes, often by car radio, slipping into the scenery.
The '70s: Punk rock and horror What is the cinematic equivalent of punk? I found it in horror films.
Martin Scorsese considers himself a failed rock musician. I think he's a successful rock musician who has found his instrument in sound editing.
David Lynch A noise has as much importance as a high-pitched frequency; a faraway rumble is as important as a song that suddenly takes over the foreground.
My own films [I]t was music more than cinema that gave me the most intense artistic emotions, that showed me my own path, that gave me certain invisible keys.
Note, too, the September 4th screenings of the restored Rude Boy are dedicated to Joe Strummer.
