Bathroom Break #10

from Jan Svankmajer's Conspirators of Pleasure

Bathroom Break #9

from George A. Romero's Day of the Dead

Bathroom Break #8

from William Witney's Darktown Strutters

Bathroom Break #7

from Emir Kusturica's Underground

Bathroom Break #6

from Claire Denis' Nenette and Boni

Bathroom Break Series #5

from Norman Z. McLeod's Horse Feathers

Hatari! - Trailer
Uploaded by enricogay

I watched "Hatari!" the day after oral surgery, and I was veerrry mellow from the codeine I'd been prescribed. It was the perfect movie to watch in that state. It's a very long, loosely plotted comedy about a bunch of guys dicking around on safari, punctuated by long, hypnotic action scenes of a jeep chasing a rhino. I think it was the most relaxed I've ever been. Usually I'm angry or nervous about something, like paying a bill or having to put my shoes on or imagining some kind of future fiery death.

Bathroom Break Series #4

from Ace in the Hole (Billy Wilder, 1951)

Bathroom Break Series #3

from The Day of the Beast (Alex de la Iglesia, 1995)

Bathroom Break Series #2

from Satantango (Bela Tarr, 1994)

It was a 7 1/2 hour movie. That's why we paused it so much.

LOVE STREAMS (#11)
Uploaded by birdy66

Michelangelo Antonioni 1912-2007

Yesterday, after hearing about Bergman's death, I said to my wife, "Antonioni's about the only old master left." How odd that he died the same day. I forgot about a few people when I said that. The French New Wave filmmakers are mostly still kicking and (mostly) still making good films, e.g. Claude Chabrol, Eric Rohmer, Jean-Luc Godard, Jacques Rivette, Alain Resnais. However, they are nearly a generation younger than Bergman and Antonioni. Portugal's Manoel de Oliveira is 99 years old and still making an average of two films a year. He's the only director living and, more impressively, working today who started in the silent-film era. However, though critically regarded as a master, his films haven't been distributed well, and only a handful are available on DVD in this country. So Antonioni may have been the last of a dying breed, namely, classic directors beginning their careers in the 1940s.




"Scientific man is already on the moon, and yet we are still living with the moral concepts of Homer."

"Hollywood is like being nowhere and talking to nobody about nothing."
--Michelangelo Antonioni

Ingmar Bergman, 1918-2007

"I hope I never get so old I get religious."
--Ingmar Bergman

persona
Uploaded by seryeuse

Bathroom Break Series #1

From now on, whenever we pause a DVD for a bathroom or get-another-beer break at the Dr. Mystery/Spacebeer household, we will take a picture of the paused screen and post the photo on Film-Watching Robot. Here is the first photo, from Guillermo Del Toro's Cronos.

From "Ordet"

The boss jumped in

Edward Yang, 1947-2007

On my 30th birthday, I suddenly said to myself, 'Damn, I'm getting old!' I realized that I had to change my life. I needed to start doing something that I could enjoy and through which I could feel fulfilled.
-- Edward Yang, on quitting his computer engineering job to make films

I could do without anymore of that language

Everyone's looking

Shoes

But we won't tell her about this

I leave that mishigoss to the Catholics

The father of the hot dog cinema mustard new wave relish movement

I'm so fucking tired of trying to read something new about John Cassavetes, and instead continuing to be bombarded with people calling him "the father of American independent film," godfather of independent cinema, master of independent low-budget American cinema, ground zero independent film, independent film starts here, blah blah blah, shut the motherfucking fuck. He's not the founder, originator, or godfather of anything except John Cassavetes films. Maybe he's "independent" of the need to lick money publicly, but he's not "independent" of the influence of previous filmmakers, writers, musicians, chefs, cab drivers, fellow human beings, friends, love, hate, getting out of bed, going to sleep. What does "independent" mean? I know what it means in terms of "independent" film or "indie" rock. A mediocre product squeezed from the hard work and blood of unappreciated, hard-working artists and peddled to dogmatic youth cultures and consumerist apathetic couch potatoes alike by young men and women with no guts, balls, clits, or souls on behalf of old white men with enormous sums of money. This is obvious, pamphleteering stuff, and I'm in danger of sounding as stupid as what I'm complaining about. It's an unfortunate but shrewd result of the successful selling and consumption of mediocre, profitable capitalist American "culture" products that any complaint about this way of life sounds even stupider, shriller, more obvious, and more immature than the way of life itself. It's a testament to the incredible power, profitability, fashionability, and potential ridiculousness of film and music that these are the only two arts saddled with the meaningless buzzword "independent," or "indie" if you're lazy, or "Ms. Indie" if you're nasty. Have you ever heard anyone say, "I'm going to the museum to check out some indie art," or "I'm going to the library to pick up some indie books." This word means nothing. And if you think John Cassavetes is responsible for films like "Thumbsucker," "Boondock Saints," any movie about how the suburbs are secretly bad places, etc., you grossly misread not only his work, but life itself. Eat a fucking hot dog and shut up.

Leaning

Who lives?

1955's 2007

"What is the meaning of this revolution [in filmmaking]? To pass beyond the long period of submission to the manufactured product and openly renew links with the tradition of 1915, (D.W.) Griffith and Triangle, whose vitality moreover still nourished the work of the old Hollywood directors -- (Raoul) Walsh, (King) Vidor, (Allan) Dwan, and of course (Howard) Hawks; a return to lyricism, powerful feelings, melodrama (the audience at the smart halls sneer at (Nicholas) Ray's films as they did at Allan Dwan's); the rediscovery of a certain breadth of gesture, an externalizing of the roughest and most spontaneous emotions; in short, the rediscovery of naivete."
Jacques Rivette, "Notes on a Revolution" (1955)

We can't stop the dancing chicken

Helloooo....

The dirtiest sport in the world

Bug Off

Clip of the day

Since I'm going back to school soon and also keen to work on some non-blog writing projects, my blogs are going to be sporadically updated for the foreseeable future. To keep you from going away forever, I will put up some YouTube clips every day until I find something I want to write about and some time to do it. Here is the first daily film clip. (Ignore the sorta-smug actor voiceover about a minute in and look at the excellently chosen beautiful images instead. Or ignore what I just said and do what you want. Who am I to tell you what to do?)

I'm begging you

Favorite Actor Monday can take a hike this week and possibly every week hereafter. I still have plenty of favorites, but I've run out of things to say. Instead, I want to implore, beg, cajole, coerce, persuade, convince, and plead with anyone who reads this blog and lives in Austin to see Charles Burnett's "Killer of Sheep" at the Alamo Drafthouse Downtown Wednesday night at 7 p.m. (if you didn't see it tonight, although feel free to see it again if you did). Burnett shot this film on weekends in 1973 with a cast of mostly nonprofessionals as his master's thesis for UCLA film school. He finally completed it in 1977. (It is worth noting that film schools once encouraged filmmakers to make art about, with, and for their communities as a means in itself and now churn out a supply of inconsequential douchebags whose goals are to get on "Entertainment Tonight" and become famous and wealthy alumni making bullshit for morons.) It was one of the first 50 films chosen for the Library of Congress Film Registry, and has never been officially released until this year due to a failure to clear music rights. It will be released on DVD later this year for the first time, along with his second feature, "My Brother's Wedding," and two shorts, "The Horse" and "When It Rains." When even our best new filmmakers seem to be obsessed with monosyllabic infantile indie rock breakups with their girlfriends, it's absolutely energizing and life-affirming to see a film with such modesty and ambition, an expansive and empathetic vision encompassing many lives and a community, an intelligent and organic feel for film language, and an artistic perspective not stuck up its own asshole. This film is poetry. It's beautiful and deserves to be seen by as many people as possible. Please go see it.

Favorite Actor Monday

Apples and oranges, yes, even though I'm talking about brothers working the same profession, but cut me a little slack and let me say that Chris Penn was a better actor than Sean Penn. He wasn't as famous, didn't get as many leading roles, had to do some truly shitty movies, and was playing mostly bit parts at the time of his death, but at his best, Chris Penn made his older brother look like a schoolboy getting depantsed (or pantsed, depending on where you're from). Chris may have been felled by an appetite for booze, drugs, and mass quantities of food, but Sean has been killed by his own ponderous humorlessness. Sean Penn tries too hard and is way too serious about it. He's as far away from his own performance as Spicoli in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" as former president Dwight Eisenhower is from the nearest Burger King. Chris Penn was a fucking force of nature, scary and funny and natural and sad. Don't get me wrong. Sean Penn has turned in some incredible performances and directed some flawed but interesting films (particularly "The Indian Runner" and "The Pledge"). But he's no Chris Penn. Imagine Chris in "Mystic River" instead of Sean, and imagine a much better film. Raise your glasses and toast the forgotten Penn, our Favorite Actor of this Monday.















Recommended (a few of these movies are atrocious, but there's something happening when Chris Penn is on screen):
Rumble Fish (Francis Ford Coppola, 1983)
Footloose (Herbert Ross, 1984) (atrocioulicious)
At Close Range (James Foley, 1986)
Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino, 1992)
Best of the Best 2 (Robert Radler, 1993) (I dare you to rent this movie)
Short Cuts (Robert Altman, 1993)
True Romance (Tony Scott, 1993)
Mulholland Falls (Lee Tamahori, 1996) (atrocious)
The Funeral (Abel Ferrara, 1996)
Masked and Anonymous (Larry Charles, 2003)
+
a couple of TV performances I caught on late-night reruns of particularly awful material actually being transformed to something more than watchable by Chris Penn's performance:
"Grave Young Men" episode of CSI:Miami (2003)
"Fanilow" episode of Will & Grace (2003)













I'd like to see Sean Penn be taught how to dance by Kevin Bacon in a musical montage and totally commit to it without worrying about looking ridiculous:

Favorite Actor Monday

What else is left to say about Marlene Dietrich? I don't have any new insights. However, I should probably write something. Here's three observations and a quote:
1) She exudes an intense sexuality that fills the screen and the room where the film is being projected or watched on television while she herself seems less interested in sex than any other person on earth. There is an odd yet thrilling disconnect between her effortlessly magnetic presence and her uninterested detachment from it. She's like a spider who doesn't give a damn about its web.
2) She doesn't get enough credit for being one of the greatest comedic actors. She's funny.
3) It's difficult to find a picture of her without a cigarette in her hand or mouth, and she loved to get drunk. Somehow, she lived to be 90.
4) "There is a lack of dignity to film stardom" - Marlene Dietrich.

Recommended:
The Blue Angel (Josef von Sternberg, 1930)
Dishonored (Josef von Sternberg, 1931)
Shanghai Express (Josef von Sternberg, 1932)
The Scarlet Empress (Josef von Sternberg, 1934)
A Foreign Affair (Billy Wilder, 1948)
Touch of Evil (Orson Welles, 1958)

Favorite Actor Monday

Burt Lancaster delivered his lines the same way, same cadence, same tone, in every film of his I've seen (except for "The Leopard," in which his voice is dubbed in Italian), but his performances still managed to be richly varied. How did he do that? Facial expressions and body language are part of the answer, but the rest is a mystery. There are many films he's in I want to see but haven't yet. He's good in "Field of Dreams," but I can hardly recommend that. Additionally, he started out in showbiz as a circus acrobat.

Recommended:
The Killers (Robert Siodmak, 1946)
Criss Cross (Robert Siodmak, 1949)
Sweet Smell of Success (Alexander Mackendrick, 1957)
Elmer Gantry (Richard Brooks, 1960)
A Child Is Waiting (John Cassavetes, 1963)
The Leopard (Luchino Visconti, 1963)
Ulzana's Raid (Robert Aldrich, 1972)
Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull's History Lesson (Robert Altman, 1976)
Atlantic City (Louis Malle, 1980)
Local Hero (Bill Forsyth, 1983)

Favorite Actor Monday

I'm a fan of her mother (Ingrid Bergman), I'm a huge fan of her father (Roberto Rossellini), and I like her, too. Isabella Rossellini, you have what it takes to be a Favorite Actor Monday. It was ridiculous when the media talked about how "brave" Nicole Kidman was for putting on a fake nose in "The Hours." If you want to see a brave performance, watch Rossellini in "Blue Velvet." (Not to slam Nicole Kidman. She was pretty great in "Dogville.")

Recommended:
Blue Velvet (David Lynch, 1986)
Wild at Heart (David Lynch, 1990)
Big Night (Stanley Tucci & Campbell Scott, 1996)
The Funeral (Abel Ferrara, 1996)
"Mom and Pop Art" episode of "The Simpsons" (1999)
The Saddest Music in the World (Guy Maddin, 2003)

Favorite Actor Monday

David Thomson, a film writer I usually enjoy reading even though I rarely agree with him, is right on target when he says about Cary Grant, his favorite actor: "...no one else has or could have done so well for two directors [Alfred Hitchcock and Howard Hawks] as radically opposed in attitude." This is an important point for anyone to consider who thinks of Grant as merely a movie star or a light entertainer. When we think of capital-A actors, we are usually programmed to think of Brando, De Niro, Pacino, or some other very serious man with a name ending in "O." Not to take anything away from these men at their best, but Cary Grant deserves to be in their company, if not a few tiers higher. Hitchcock famously said that actors were cattle and dictatorially controlled and meticulously planned each frame of his films, while Hawks loved actors dearly and granted them many freedoms. That Cary Grant is such a central figure in both men's filmographies is testament to his complexity and talent.

Some random Cary Grant facts:
1) A reporter once wired Grant's agent "HOW OLD CARY GRANT?" Grant read the wire while in his agent's office and wired back "OLD CARY GRANT FINE. HOW YOU?"
2) Grant and Randolph Scott roomed together for several years and were rumored to be in a sexual relationship. Scott even jokingly referred to himself as "Cary Grant's wife." This made the studio unhappy. A recent Grant biography claimed both men were bisexuals and were open about their relationship, but this has also been disputed.
3) Grant was one of the first people to use LSD while it was still legal, as part of an experimental psychotherapy program. He was a vocal proponent of the drug.
4) He retired from the movies in 1966 and never appeared in a film again, despite offers from Stanley Kubrick, Billy Wilder, and Howard Hawks.
5) He once killed a man for spilling grape juice on his tie, later drinking the man's blood for its "rejuvenating powers."

One of these facts is not true. Guess which one and win a slice of old-fashioned loaf.

Recommended:
Bringing Up Baby (Howard Hawks, 1938)
Only Angels Have Wings (Howard Hawks, 1939)
His Girl Friday (Howard Hawks, 1940)
Suspicion (Alfred Hitchcock, 1941)
Arsenic and Old Lace (Frank Capra, 1944)
Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock, 1946)
To Catch a Thief (Alfred Hitchcock, 1955)
North By Northwest (Alfred Hitchcock, 1959)




















Here he is with Siegfried and Roy in the late 1970s. Why does Roy look like a wax figure?

The process

Here is a link to graphic designer Eric Skillman's guest post on the Criterion Collection blog about his process at arriving at the cover art for their DVD release of Jules Dassin's "Night and the City" and "Thieves' Highway." I haven't seen the films, but I'm posting the link here for a chance to get a look at an artist's creative process. I find it fascinating and useful to see the trial and error involved in any creative endeavor. Read it here.

Additionally, Skillman also designed the covers for Criterion's releases of Ermanno Olmi's "Il Posto" and "I Fidanzati." In addition to Skillman's handsome cover designs, I want to recommend both of these films as two of my favorite movies ever. I love, love, love these two films. I hope someone else does, too. Please validate part of my hard-scrabble existence by acknowledging my superior taste in everything. Give Ermanno Olmi some love. I hope you know I'm joking about my superior taste even though I have a lot of self-belief in it.

Kisses,
Captain Arrogance

Favorite Actor Monday

Susan Tyrrell is intense and strange and not so strange. She's in a lot of movies I haven't seen yet, but want to, like "Big Top Pee-Wee," "The Killer Inside Me," and "Andy Warhol's Bad." Pauline Kael hated her, which puts her in the fine company of John Cassavetes and Robert Bresson. She described her acting style as "buried overacting." Her mother's last words, spoken to her, were "Your life is a celebration of everything that is cheap and tawdry." She meant it as a compliment. Tyrrell hates to work and only does so when she needs money, which she says is once a year. She contracted a rare blood disease in 2000 and had to have both her legs amputated at the knee. Her performance in "Fat City" is so good it deserves its own planet. Whether she's even a competent actor or not is irrelevant.

Recommended:
Fat City (John Huston, 1972)
Forbidden Zone (Richard Elfman, 1980)
Tapeheads (Bill Fishman, 1988)
Cry-Baby (John Waters, 1990)
Motorama (Barry Shils, 1991)
Masked and Anonymous (Larry Charles, 2003)

Favorite Actor Monday

Michel Piccoli will class up your film. He's been in movies since 1945, and will never stop until he's killed by death. He was a very iconic and cool actor as a younger man, and has matured into a performer of great depth and subtlety. He probably knows the best place to get a drink and a decent haircut in every city on the globe. I write like this when I have too many margaritas.


Recommended:
Contempt (Jean-Luc Godard, 1963)
Belle de jour (Luis Bunuel, 1967)
The Milky Way (Luis Bunuel, 1969)
The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (Luis Bunuel, 1972)
Wedding in Blood (Claude Chabrol, 1973)
The Phantom of Liberty (Luis Bunuel, 1974)
Atlantic City (Louis Malle, 1980)
Passion (Jean-Luc Godard, 1982)
Mauvais sang (Leos Carax, 1986)
La Belle noiseuse (Jacques Rivette, 1991)
I'm Going Home (Manoel de Oliveira, 2001)

New blog

Hey everybody. I have yet another blog, this one devoted exclusively to my foolish attempt to watch all 101 horror films in the book "Fangoria's 101 Best Horror Movies You've Never Seen." The blog is called Decapitated Zombie Vampire Bloodbath. Check it out at http://www.zombievamp.blogspot.com, if you dare. This is not an April Fool's joke.