Watched: Kes, Hooper, Kuroneko, Adolescents in the Universe
I’m hunting and pecking - old film prints and new Criterion disks, not a bad way to burn off the tail end of a bad month. I caught up to Hooper at last, which was satisfying after all the Buddy Joe Hooker love at ActionFest last year, but I found the film inconsequential and broad. I pushed from there to Kuroneko from the Criterion Collection, having been quite thrilled by Onibaba several years ago, but must mark Kuroneko as a disappointment. It’s beautifully photographed, and with some moments of genuinely unnerving, ghostly sensation… but does not come together into anything so fascinating as its more sensual predecessor.
Yet, days later, its images linger. For the life of me, I cannot imagine why all ghost stories aren’t shot in high contrast black and white; the inky depths, and snowy surfaces, of Kuroneko make a strong case. The photographic scheme simplifies the argument, and consolidates the power of the ghosts: there is only what is, and what isn’t; only the frame, and the effect.
The Grey is a triumph of mismarketing. It pays off the collateral of Taken and Unknown – Liam Neeson’s late-career, out-of-nowhere, more-than-welcome transformation from Serious Actor into Charles Effing Bronson – by luring Neeson’s new audience into a movie built on slyly different intentions.
A fracas at the premiere screening of The Woman in Black
It goes like this: I find out, at around 4:30 on Thursday afternoon, that I’m going to the Woman in Black screening (screening time is 7:00), Daniel Radcliffe in attendance. The screening, hosted by Alliance-Atlantis and held at the Scotiabank theatre, is besieged upon my arrival by Radcliffe fangirls, but I encounter no trouble entering the theatre, proceeding to Alliance’s ticket desk, and exchanging my voucher for my ticket. I proceed upstairs to the theatre, text Sasha that I’m going inside, and - with my cell phone in the same hand as my ticket, mind you - hand an Intercon security guard my ticket and take my seat in the theatre.
Hours pass as Daniel Radcliffe is magically teleported from Hogwarts to the Scotiabank theatre, and he ends up taking the stage at around 7:35, preceded by Richard Crouse, who at that moment musta felt like Albert Brooks when he had to face a slathering crowd who were waiting for Richie Havens. “Richie! Richie! Richie!” “Oh, they gonna kill you.”
I’m on the aisle, second or third row of the ETX theatre, when another Intercon security guard charges into my space and demands that Corey Atad - sitting three seats over from me - get up and come to him immediately. Corey’s already wise to what’s gone wrong; he’s taken a picture, and cameras aren’t allowed. He gets up, apologizes to the guard and hands over his phone, and says “I’m going to get it back, right?”
In which Jim Jarmusch reminds us that nothing is original.
The Boys of Mamo return on Oscar Nomination Tuesday to talk about what the hell just happened, i.e. the same thing that happens every year.
“EEEEEVVVERRRYYYONNNE!” #apocalypsepubnight #notrobbieburnsday2012 (Taken with instagram)
Martin Scorsese, Georges Melies, digital projectors, and pre-movie ads collided last week in this unintentional orgy of fuckedupedness.
“Dear Mr. Scorsese, this is how a couple of hundred people at the regal Theater in Union Square experienced the last 20 minutes of your tribute to the magic of film on the evening of January 14th.This occured after the film broke twice during the screening.”
Watched: Solaris, In the Dust of the Stars, Stalker
ATTACK THE BLOC kicked off at the Lightbox this week, the first strike in TIFF’s roaring winter season, which Matty Price* rightly described as being programmed as if they were wondering if anyone was looking. Sasha and I scampered down to the BLB after the Haywire sneak on Thursday night to kick things off rightly with Solaris, which was a goddamned lead-lined prison of a movie for the middle of winter, but I’m glad I at least have seen it now, and can cross its Criterion release off my wish list for ever.
No, I didn’t enjoy it much. “Half the time and twice as well” is becoming my favourite compliment in moviegoing, which I suppose means I’m starting to like 90 minute movies a lot more than 160 minute movies. (Matty Price** first fired the missive at Valhalla Rising, in reference to its relationship to The New World.) Now I’ve circled back around on Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris, having first seen, and first disliked, and then really liked, Soderbergh’s remake. There’s no way around it: Soderbergh did it in half the time and twice as well. Not a very “cultured important film criticism” type opinion, but there you go. Seeing Solaris made me dread seeing Stalker on Saturday - and I do need to catch up with Nostalghia as well, regardless - though at least when this Tarkovsky-digging is done, I can justifiably say I never need to do it again!***
