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Distant voices, still lives

The cinetrix has more to say about LA, but workaday responsibilities, sadly, must come first this week. But here's what I've been peeking at in other [browser] windows, Rear Window stizz:

• The Guardian's recent film blog entry  What Every Film Critic Should Know ["They should have seen Jean-Luc Godard's Histoire du Cinema, and every film by Carl Dreyer, Robert Bresson, Jean Renoir, Luis Bunuel and Ingmar Bergman, as well as those of Jean-Marie Straub and Danielle Huillet, and at least one by Germaine Dulac, Marcel L'Herbier, Mrinal Sen, Marguerite Duras, Mikio Naruse, Jean Eustache and Stan Brakhage. They should be well versed in Russian constructivism, German expressionism, Italian neo-realism, Cinema Novo, La Nouvelle Vague and the Dziga Vertov group."] and, far more entertaining, the comments ["alternately, this sounds like the qualification to be in Franz Ferdinand?"].
• Glenn Kenny chats with shadowy Criterion Collection honcho Peter Becker about the new Eclipse series.
• Joseph Gordon-Levitt's paparazzi encounter "Pictures of Assholes" [wait for the homosexual frisson halfway thru]
• Brad Pitt addendum to Screengrab's Worst Accents in Movie History list, mostly because it reminds me of the story of how some projectionist snipped just the essential "Brad Pitt gets hit by a car" moment out of the ponderous, three-hour Meet Joe Black and attached it, without explanation, to the end of a trailer reel. So, to review: ad, ad, ad, OW! I Feel Good, In a world where..., BLAM!!!, and then feature. Good stuff.
• Thelma Schoonmaker loves Marty.
• Mahky Mahk faackin' hates 'im. Sometimes. He's just messin' with ya.
• Muzak and Hitchcock on Pitchfork. Seriously.
• Rocky Balboa and HGH: Is nothing sacred?
• Alan Smithee answers a reader's question: "When movies need a religion/funeral/talk-to-a-minister, why is it almost always Catholic or one who is addressed as 'Father.' Why not United Methodist?"

OK, that oughta hold ya. Apologies to Alison and Stu, from whom I doubtlessly ganked the majority of these links.

To live and die in LA: In-flight Entertainment

Dear American Airlines:

What the fuck? You bore the cinetrix senseless with hours of chirpy CBS programming before starting the feature presentation, Dreamgirls, a movie I had not yet seen. Then you switch it off before the end, just as Deena et al. return to the D for their farewell show, because we are on the ground. Somehow Greyhound and other terrestrial carriers manage to coordinate travel times with running times. What's your problem?

Seriously, the cinetrix nearly busted out into her own rendition of "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" as folks began to file off the plane. But the experience did get me to wondering about the history of in-flight entertainment. I'd imagine it coincides with transatlantic and transcontinental travel, but is there a good history out there you'd recommend?

As for the end of the movie, never fear. Our local one-and-a-half run house is showing Hudson et al. this week, so I may slip in for the last bit one night after work. In the meantime, IMDb's taxonomy of plot keywords gave me a chuckle: Drug Overdose / Show Business / Ego / Based On Musical / more. I'll say.

Blue movie*

What do you people want from me? It's Friday. Here's a l'il semi-NSFW somethin' somethin' by Nerddiva's pal Nayeli.

*Cigarette optional, but recommended.

To live and die in LA: Wunderkammer

If you want to have a full-on Mike Davis-stizz experience of Los Angeles, first stop really should be the Museum of Jurassic Technology. Not only are cinetrix crush-object artistes like Walter Murch, Rosamund Purcell, and Ricky Jay all supporters of Mr. Wilson's Culver City cabinet of wonder, the lighting scheme is perversely dim and vexing and the temporary and permanent displays equally sublime. And there's a tea room! Not to mention a bookstore reminiscent of the late, lamented Flyrabbit in Allston, perfect for all your hostess gift needs--if your hostess was, say, Morticia Addams or the cinetrix. Also, the following fine films were on offer.

• Jan Svankmajer's Alice
• Russian Ark
• Lessons of Darkness
• Decasia
• The Carnivorous Syndrome in 3D
• L'Atalante
• Even Dwarves Started Small
• Andrei Rublev
• Stalker
• The Cranes Are Flying
• The Color of Pomegranates
• 2046
• The New World
• Crazy Stranger

That'd be quite a film festival, no? More anon.

Wild is the wind

Whilst the cinetrix collects her thoughts about the haj to Hellay and catches up on a little paperwork, she'd like to cede the floor to Hizzoner, who gets all Pontecorvo on yer asses with this week's review.

The Wind That Shakes the Barley

Historical and ongoing civil wars make for great movies. This film, about the civil war between the Irish and the British, is one of the best of its genre. I saw it on St. Patrick's Day while wearing my green tie with shamrocks, and I enjoyed it immensely. 

The Wind That Shakes the Barley opens in the Irish countryside in the 1920s. The Black and Tans, an army of British occupiers, are using oppressive measures to end the efforts of the Irish to form an independent republic. Teddy (Padraic Delaney) leads a local group of insurgents fighting the British, and his brother Damien (Cillian Murphy) abandons his plans to practice medicine in London and joins the group. Irish women fight alongside the Irish men. One of the women is Damien's girlfriend, Sinead (Orla Fitzgerald). Cillian Murphy is a phenomenal actor who, like Johnny Depp, chooses unique roles. His most fascinating role was that of a transvestite in Breakfast on Pluto.

Military battles occur that are reminiscent of The Battle of Algiers, and scenes involving betrayal, an informer, and revenge reminded me of that great film, The Informer. A torture scene will have you peeking at the screen through your fingers. The mountains, valleys and thatched-roof houses of the Irish countryside are, of course, beautiful.

When the Irish Parliament accepted partition and peace with Great Britain, the next stage of the Irish civil war began with brother against brother and the rise of the IRA. Incidentally, the final denouement of the "troubles," as the Irish civil war became known, is being played out today in Ireland. What has occurred in that country over the last 30 years will provide the story line for another great movie.

When I saw the film it was only playing at two theaters in Manhattan: The Lincoln Plaza Cinemas and the IFC Center. It is a very special and rewarding movie that presents a history not sufficiently known.  I hope it receives wider distribution.

[Thanks to Carlos.]

Star Maps

Dear Internets,

Please excuse the cinetrix's absence. She and the Fesser have been running around Los Angeles [read with hard "g" a la Jake Gittes] like Kirsten Dunst scurrying down the halls of Versailles. Expect a full report forthwith.

[Incidentally, check out the Japanese trailer for Marie Antoinette. Very much more "In a world where..."]

Bengalis and platforms*

At long last, Ed Koch returns to Pullquote. As befits the man who preceded David Dinkins as mayor of the glorious mosaic, he liked The Namesake.

The Namesake
This picture is a gem. After an arranged marriage in Calcutta, Tabu (Ashima) and Ashoke (Irrfan Khan) emigrate to New York City in 1977 and have two children -- a son Gogol (Kal Penn) and younger daughter Sonia (Sahira Nair).

Gogol, whose formal name is Nikhil, rejects the Indian customs of his family. He is also bothered by his Indian names and begins to use the name, "Nick." I'll leave the story of how he got the name Gogol to unravel before you on the screen. Gogol studies architecture at Yale University and later meets Maxine (Jacinda Barrett), a wealthy, very upper-class, non-Indian woman. His mother is not happy when he brings her home for a visit. She had hoped he would date a Bengali girl, Moushumi (Zuleikha Robinson), but Gogol was put off by her introverted personality. When Gogol and Maxine end their relationship, he once again dates Moushumi, who since their first meeting has spent a lot of time in Paris and become quite sophisticated.

The screenwriter is Sooni Taraporevala, who wrote the scripts for "Salaam Bombay!" and "Mississippi Masala," both first-rate films which I'm sure are available on video. The acting is sensational, particularly by Tabu, Zuleikha Robinson, and Kal Penn. Penn portrays Gogol superbly, conveying the young American preppie followed by an adult Gogol who grows up quickly because of a family tragedy and accepts his Bengali traditions to a far greater extent than he ever expected.

The scenes of India and the Taj Mahal are gorgeous. "The Namesake," a love story that will make you both laugh and cry, held my attention from beginning to end.

However, Easy E encourages his cinematic constituents not to believe the 300 hype. Wonder how that'll play in Chelsea?

300
I didn't think I would like this movie, and I did not. It describes the enormous courage of the Greeks from the City of Sparta who fought the Persians at the Battle of Thermopylae.

The Persians, led by King Xerxes (Rodrigo Santoro), were seeking to conquer Europe and almost did. Spartan King Leonidas (Gerard Butler), against the counsel of his parliament, took 300 of his best men to stop the Persians who were massing in the tens of thousands and ready to descend on the Greek peninsula. The action, which is very graphic, bloody and gory, didn't cause me to avert my eyes because it is done in comic book style. The blood streaming towards the viewers is more like rain falling on a windshield and being swept away by the regular movement of the wipers. The movie depicts cartoon-like creatures in the Persian army, including elephants and a rhinoceros used to rout the Greeks.

King Leonidas' wife, Queen Gorgo (Lena Headey), offers to submit herself physically to Theron (Dominic West), Leonidas' Parliamentary enemy ,which was actually the City Council of Sparta. The Greek traitor, who leads the Persians to a secret goat path, is a deformed caricature whose face and body resemble the elephant man.

The audience applauded lightly at the end of the movie, but I though it was a ridiculous film and a wasted evening. I tried to get a ticket to see the show on Friday night at a Cineplex which devoted five screens to the movie, but all shows were sold out. I saw it the next day at a different theater, and it was only 80 percent full. Maybe word is spreading. It's all hype.

*Dedicated to the Looker, who, like the cinetrix and the 'Fesser, will be heading west tomorrow.

Too beautiful for you

Everyone's favorite glib New Yorker reviewer Anthony Lane poses a surprisingly sincere query in the lede to a Talk of the Town sidebar in the March 12 issue; namely, Can a film be too beautiful?

He's talking about Zhang Yimou's Raise the Red Lantern, specifically, but it's a good question, and not just because the cinetrix is sad she missed Roslind Galt's SCMS "Pretty, or the Problem of Aesthetics in Film Theory" paper.

Submit your eye-candy candidates in the comments, s.v.p.

Inspektor dek

 
Before the projector started to act capricious during last night's All About Eve screening, the cinetrix scribbled down a new candidate were she to change the Pullquote slugline: "Not mouse. Never mouse. If anything--rat."

Speaking of everyone's favorite poison valentine to parvenues in the theatre and out, is there really not a BFI Film Classics volume on the film? Really? I use that sucker as my exemplar par excellence of classical Hollywood narrative--to allay all the gents throwing down John Wayne and The Searchers and yadda yadda.

Eve Harrington usually ends up neck-and-neck with Noah Cross as Best Villain in our end of semester Oscars, so the cinetrix must scramble to find a location for the makeup screening. Fasten your seatbelts and all that.

Without dreams we would be cows in a field*

Spotted on my way back from brunch at the Wishbone with Our Girl ["Oprah, find me parking!"] and the Aronovian one on Sunday morn in Chicago.

Note the birds nesting in the letters. I like to think Werner would've approved.

*