With the exception of a couple of experimental shorts using a process called “Phono-Cinéma-Théâtre” presented at the 1900 Paris Exhibition and, of course, the live piano/organ accompaniment prevalent in the silent era (which doesn’t really count), cinema was purely a visual medium for the first 37 years of its existence.
When one creates a blog this accessible, this entertaining, this literate, one must accept that, in due course, an incredible amount of electronic fan mail likely will pass over the transom. And while my introverted half would prefer to hide deep within the dark recesses of that ivory tower known as film knowledge/arcana, the extroverted side understands that it is critical to maintain a relationship with the great unwashed.
As cultural anthropology teaches us, with the rise of organized societies came the need to develop rites of passage into adulthood, with many such rituals involving a mature understanding of the concepts at hand and proof of dedication. For example, in Judaism the 13-year-old celebrant of a Bar or Bat Mitzvah must engage in complex Torah cantillation. In Catholicism, the
(1993, Dir: Joe Dante)Recently, while taking in the newest and very gratifying Spielberg/Hanks collaboration, Bridge of Spies, I couldn’t help but recall Joe Dante’s 1993 classic, Matinee, which dealt with much of the same high-stakes Cold War paranoia, albeit comically.
The Public Eye (1992, dir. Howard Franklin)Anyone who’s ever flipped through a Life magazine photo retrospective while sitting in a doctor’s waiting room most certainly has seen the work of Arthur Fellig, a photographer better known to the world by his nickname, Weegee.
As you’ve now had over a month to recover from digest my initial three Cult-Classics-Unearthed-Watching-Late-Night-HBO-in-College, how about two more gems:
North Shore (1987, dir. William Phelps)
It’s funny to think that something as inconsequential as one’s middle name could impact the probability of one’s genius, but it seems that that is exactly the case when it comes to the art of movie direction.
Take, for instance, George T. Miller, the Australian behind The Man from Snowy River (1982) and The NeverEnding Story II: The Next Chapter (1990).
British author Ruth Rendell died this May, at age 85, a few months after suffering a debilitating stroke. Rendell, one of literature’s formost practitioners of thrillers and psychological murder mysteries, was not particularly well known to American readers, readers who, judging by The New York Times “Best Sellers List,” preferred to spend their precious free time
Every hear of The Criterion Collection? No? Well, it’s the company I hold responsible for my crack-like addiction to the latest and greatest home video formats of the last 20 years. Founded back in 1984, The Criterion Collection entered the home video marketplace with a lofty but admirable goal, conveniently printed on each of its releases: “…to gather the greatest films from around the world and publishing them in editions of the highest quality.”
Two recent untimely deaths–those of 43-year-old actress Amanda Peterson and 61-year-old ex-pro-grappler/actor Roddy Piper (the former not entirely unexpected, the latter of natural causes)–got me thinking about the movies that made them famous*, Peterson acting** in 1987’s Can’t Buy Me Love (co-starring the nerd who would one day grow up to be auto-racing enthusiast