Theo Angelopoulos R.I.P.

Elwy Yost R.I.P.

Gunnar Fischer R.I.P.

Paddling to the Sea or Jogging the Memory

I was listening to Eleanor Wachtel interview Michael Ignatieff on Writers and Company yesterday, when he mentioned a children's book, called Paddle to the Sea (by Holling C. Holling), about a boy who carves a toy Indian in a canoe that makes its way from Lake Nipigon, through the Great Lakes, over Niagara Falls and all the way out the St. Lawrence Seaway. Immediately I had this image in my head of a small wooden canoe going over the Falls. I did a bit of research and found this:



I have no idea when I actually saw this, though I suspect it was in elementary school at some time or other. You can watch the film in its entirety, thanks to the NFB's fantastic website, here.

Mahabharat (Kahani Teen Minute Mein) - Episode 142

2:50 for the best decapitation in a movie, ever.

NFB Screening Room

The National Film Board has launched an online screening room where you can view full length NFB films. And it's all free. There are feature length documentaries, shorts, animation, and more titles will be added each week. And they have The Sweater.

Zombie Strippers!

Michelangelo Antonioni R.I.P.

Ingmar Bergman R.I.P.

Mary Poppins!

I always thought there was something creepy about that woman.

Dancer In The Dark

I watched Dancer In The Dark again last night. I hadn't seen it since it's theatrical release. It reminded me of why I think Lars von Trier is one of the most challenging, important and all around best film directors working today. In Dancer In The Dark, he takes any sense of innocence, naivete and nostalgia associated with the traditional Hollywood musical, smashes it into a thousand little shards, then drags our faces through the shards. It hurts, but we needed it. If art is part of a dialogue, and I'd like to think that it can be, then Dancer In The Dark is the final word about musicals. They're done.

As an aside, I love the following review from the film's official website's front page: "A 2 1/2 hour demo of auteurist self-importance that's artistically bankrupt on almost every level." Good stuff.

Snakes On A Real Plane

Okay, it was only one snake, and it was not Samuel L. Jackson (who has had it with the snakes) but there really was a snake on a plane. Here is the story.

V for a whole lot of things.

This one is for the person that found my blog by googling "Crazy Carpet."

A couple of reasons why V for Vendetta isn't a very good movie:

Natalie Portman has, I don't know, eight different accents.

It's really hard to have a main character with no facial expression. Maybe that was part of the point, but how can you feel for someone if you can't see their eyebrows move. Though I've got to say I'm really glad there was no emotional unmasking beauty on the inside type scene. That would have been crap.

A couple of reasons why V for Vendetta is a kind of good movie:

John Hurt as a totalitarian dictator on a big screen. Winston Smith becomes Big Brother. Oh, sweet irony.

V's speech that is an alliteration of the letter V. Nicely done.

But most of all:
Natalie Portman=Shaved Head.

Best Movie Title Ever!

Every now and then, Hollywood comes up with something that is pure fricken' genius. Coming out on 18 August is the movie with the best title ever, period. It is:

Snakes On A Plane

Absolutely brilliant. It's got it all right there. No one will be asking: "That Snakes On A Plane movie, what's it all about?" There are snakes. And there is a plane. The snakes will be on the plane. Chaos will ensue. I heard an interview with the movie's star, Samuel L. Jackson and he said as much, pointing out in particular the double whammy to people afraid of both snakes and planes.

I may never see the film, but if I decide to, I know exactly what I'll be about to witness. Deadly (I assume, the title makes no mention of it) snakes on a plane. Some people will be bitten and some snakes will be beaten. Genius.

My favourite line from the trailer: "Enough is enough. I've had it with the snakes." Here's betting we never see this classic in-flight.

Reel Despair

After a double whammy of downright depressing films tonight (Water and Paradise Now, if you care), my friend Paul said, "Sometimes I wonder why I do that to myself," or something close to that. I too have to ask myself that sometimes. But it is a common occurrence. The fact of the matter is, I really like difficult, depressing, disturbing films. I'm drawn to them. I don't think of myself as a particularly morbid person, but for some reason I like a bit of pain and torment in my cinema. I also like a good comedy, or some other bit of escapism every now and then, but the films that move me, that stick with me, that resonate within me, are, for the most part, a little bit dark. Why is that? I think, on some level, I go to see films because I want to be challenged, made a bit uncomfortable, forced to think about what I'm seeing, or made aware of a different mode of living than my own. But on another level, I think I may be looking to suffer a little. Luckily, in my life, I don't have too many problems or low points, so I need to find them elsewhere, even if that means creating them artificially. I tend to be a fairly unemotional person. Some may say downright cold. So maybe I want to watch films like that, so that I feel anything, even if it has to be despair. Or, maybe I am a morbid person and just haven't really realised it.

Walken in '08

Apparently, Christopher Walken is running to be President of the United States. I'm not entirely certain that it isn't someone's idea of a joke, but if it is indeed true, I find it both mildly amusing and slightly creepy. He could tap dance his way through the White House and no doubt would give fantastic State of the Union addresses.

Tsotsi

I just saw the film Tsotsi. Seeing it has made the kerfuffle over whether Crash or Brokeback Mountain deserved the Best Picture nod more meaningless to me than it already had been. I only saw three of the Best Picture nominees and in my opinion this film tops each of them. It is gritty, harsh, difficult at times, yet for all that, it is movingly humanistic and redemptive. And with great music to boot. I've never been one for writing reviews...I can never seem to come up with enough adjectives, nor think of anything original to say. So I won't bother. I'll just say this: Sometimes, after seeing a film, I'm really glad that I went alone, so that I don't have to talk to anyone when it's over, for fear of losing some little part of the film that my mind is struggling to hold on to. Tonight was one of those times.