Steve Coogan and Gina McKee…<sigh>. IN THE LOOP (2009). Theater was cold. Humor was sharp. Acting spot-on. Fatigue beginning to set in on this “diet” of one movie theater movie a day—and only day 10…
Trains and movies go together. (Glad the DP didn’t insist on having this window scrubbed before shooting it.)
Wasn’t quick enough to screen-grab the Persona tribute, but here’s a little Seventh Seal allusion to keep you cinephiles feeling smart and happy.
(500) DAYS OF SUMMER: glad I finally saw it, a little underwhelming, but I like Zooey Deschanel’s brand of manic pixie dream girl.
In the middle of the film, in a bid to keep myself awake, I nipped out of the theater to get a drink of water. And there was a dog. Blocking the aisle. Not a service dog. A white, frizzy little thing—its owner dragged it under the seat so I wouldn’t step on it. That was the most interesting part about watching WE ALL LOVED EACH OTHER SO MUCH (1974). Oh, okay, there was another interesting tidbit around which a subplot revolves: that de Sica made the actor who played little Bruno Ricci in Bicycle Thieves cry by planting cigarette butts in his pocket and then calling him a “ragpicker.” Otherwise, the little boy couldn’t eke out any tears.
When a pissy Raymond Burr throws a bowlful of flaming spirits at his ladyfriend, the RAW DEAL (1948) gets flambéed!
Maybe Babs Stanwyck wouldn’t have NO MAN OF HER OWN (1950) if her makeup artist didn’t insist on clowning up her upper lip! But you better believe that trying on another woman’s wedding ring is bad luck—did you see how those two pregnant gals got tumble-dried in their train carriage? An implausibly delightful (or delightfully implausible) little lady film noir.
[Sorry to tantalize you with a heading like that and then accompany it with such a bad animated gif—so here's Sean in aforementioned outfit.] According to the Time Out Film Guide, John Boorman didn’t get to direct a J.R.R. Tolkien adaptation, so we ended up with this visual feast as a substitute.
This screen shot gives away one of the main points of ZARDOZ (1974). Can you work it out?
By the way, from what fountain of youth does Charlotte Rampling drink?
Le Tigre asked. ”Misogynist? Genius? Alcoholic? Messiah?” they suggested. I’m in the misogynist camp. But Peter Falk saves A WOMAN UNDER THE INFLUENCE (1974), and so did this glorious print—from the original camera negative—preserved by my friend Ross at UCLA.
To the guy sitting next to me, spitting sunflower seeds and texting throughout THE HURT LOCKER (2008)…don’t quite know what to say to you. It did add to the suspense of the film—I wasn’t sure if I was going to explode, too. Jeremy Renner as the lead bomb specialist: precise, thrilling, funny.
The Dardenne brothers’ relentlessly hopeful Lorna. Their films usually have no musical score, but the deluxe “leather” chairs of the Shattuck Cinema, rubbing against one another, obligingly squeaked out a soundtrack for the half-dozen viewers of LORNA’S SILENCE (2008) this afternoon in Berkeley.
Little Bruno, a miniature man who mops his brow in BICYCLE THIEVES (1948), with his papa. Print from Corinth Films very much the worse for wear, which only added to my despair.
The tell-tale buzz of a motor boat; cuckolded Claude Rains using a damning playbill as a coaster; the sweat on Ann Todd’s brow as she contemplates going under the Underground. David Lean flushes us down the flashback in THE PASSIONATE FRIENDS (1948).
Why doesn’t the head of the MPAA affix his signature to the bogus ratings they give American films?
NOW, VOYAGER (1942) lap dissolves. Bette Davis confirms what we women have always suspected: a groomed eyebrow changes everything.