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by Bruce Reid

The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of August 31

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

David Bordwell employs the opening reel of Rosales’s Sueño y silencio to examine the way films teach you to watch them, and in particular how art films often substitute mood and repetition for commercial cinema’s lockstep causality.

The smoky charm of Warren William

“His pencil mustache, slicked-back hair, and long, elegant nose gave him a distinguished profile not unlike Barrymore’s, and his perfect diction recalled Powell or Menjou. However, William excelled at playing heels whose polished appearance and smooth tones masked a cold heart or ruthless agenda.” The Movie Morlock’s Susan Doll praises Warren William, with emphasis on the pre-codes that let his nastiness rip.

The new issue of Acidemic Journal is out, with a mission statement of roping in discussions of Brecht, Godard, and Ed Wood. None of whom seem to have anything to do with Ethan Spigland’s fine look at Lewton and Robson’s Ghost Ship, and only the former gets namechecked in Peter K. Tyson’s dense consideration of Fassbinder’s view of marriage in the BRD trilogy. At least one of the highlights is all about Wood, though in fairness a reprint from a few years back: Chris Stengl’s dead-on “rediscovery” of Pauline Kael’s Plan 9 from Outer Space review.

“Henry, look at me! Look! You can’t see me or anyone as they are!” 22 years after its creation the X rating was retired and NC-17 took its place, to allow movies tackling adult themes a place in the mainstream without the market-damaging associations of pornography. Another 22 years along, Steven Zeitchik confirms, it hasn’t done a damned bit of good.

As the 40th anniversary of Watkin’s Edvard Munch approaches, Jonty Claypole looks back at the uncompromising career that led the peripatetic director to Norway, and the compromises that make this Watkin’s greatest film. Spotted by Adrian Martin.

“Sometimes you have to lose yourself before you can find anything.” Sheila O’Malley, with her typical transportive empathy, marvels at the terrifying simplicity behind the acting choices of Ned Beatty and (especially) Bill McKinney in Deliverance‘s most notorious scene.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of August 24

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

What value a week without news of the Sight & Sound poll? Now up, the Director’s Poll, their individual ballots searchable by filtering the results on this page. A must-bookmark boon for film critics, who can use it to craft dozens of mix-and-match glosses of the surveyed. Cul-de-Sac by way of Los Olvidados? Makes sense. Salo crossed with 2001? Perfect. Avatar meets Biutiful…. Well, every system breaks down eventually.

Tokyo Story

Director’s Poll winner Yasujiro Ozu deserves his spot argues Thom Anderson, who breaks down the radical “denaturalization” roiling beneath Ozu’s deceptively modest formal gestures. Also at the BFI, some designers for the latest round of the organization’s Film Classics book series describe the inspiration and process behind some truly beautiful covers.

Of late I seem to only be hearing about long-term projects when they’ve passed halfway through. In contrast, I learned (from Film Studies for Free’s Catherine Grant) of Keith M. Johnston’s “Great Ealing Film Challenge” only after he’d finished. Finished what? Reviewing every film Ealing released, 95 crisp, perceptive appreciations written over almost exactly a year. Johnston tackled the films in no particular order; if you require one, Grant has arranged her links roughly (year-by-year) by the studio’s chronology.

Reverse Shot’s Take Four series on the use of color adds several fine entries, including Adam Nayman’s appreciation for a sustained bit of desaturation in Twohy’s A Perfect Getaway and Caroline McKenzie tracking Cammell’s ominous use of blue throughout Demon Seed.

“There are fanciers of gold curls everywhere, in the theatre, on the streets and in the home, and one man’s innocence does not rid the world of guilt.” Michael Wood looks past his initial disappointment with Hitchcock’s The Lodger and finds a method and a horrible vision behind the seemingly creaky plot mechanics.

With Ruiz’s final film doing the festival circuit and his final script reaching the screen directed by his widow Valeria Sarmiento, Geoffrey Macnab recalls a director who fit in as comfortably at the University of Aberdeen as he did his every other port of call. Melvil Poupaud’s anecdote about one of Ruiz’s on-set traditions speaks marvelously to his uniqueness, and his sense of humor.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of August 17

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

The sickly green nail polish in ‘Cabaret’

The latest Reverse Shot symposium asks their writers to praise a striking instance of color (not the entire film’s palette) from favorite movies. More will be added as they come in, but the first entries (Michael Koresky on sickly green nail polish in Cabaret; Damon Smith on the complexion of Frenzy‘s villain; Genevieve Yue on Safe‘s ponderously black couch) set a high bar for others to follow.

The new Alphaville, devoted to the use of sound in film, offers several fine articles that, while academic in bent, avoid abstruseness. Michael D. Dwyer has some interesting thoughts on the use of ’50s rock in Reagan-era teen films (though I had to triple-check before believing he’d skipped Back to the Future‘s loopy Chuck Berry moment); Aaron Hunter analyses Hal Ashby’s skillful use of trans-diegetic music; and Nessa Johnston praises the uniqueness of Primer‘s low-rent sound design among science-fiction movies.

Sight & Sound’s critics poll is now online, with each individual list and title searchable. So you can hunt down who actually voted for, I don’t know, Dolemite, and tip your hat for someone sticking to his guns. One interesting tidbit passed along without comment: neither Bresson’s nor Rivette’s Joan of Arc film got a vote, but every other version seems to have. Yes, every other version.

“Maybe the most bracingly masochistic comedy possible. Take ten parts pure unrequited love, let fester in heart for two decades, then shatter. The laughs may have a strange aftertaste.” The director’s poll will be put up by Sight & Sound next week; Kim Morgan offers a sneak peek, with commentary, at Guy Maddin’s selections. Not all of which are summarized so, let’s say idiosyncratically, as Letter from an Unknown Woman.

For Michael Sragow, part of Jaws‘s “unassuming greatness” is that it plays like Preston Sturges.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of August 10

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

“Come on, show me what you’ve got to show.” Since December of last year the Walker Arts Center’s Matt Levine and Jeremy Meckler have been engaging in a fun, fantastic project, analyzing in round-robin fashion The Third Man via frames spaced 62 seconds apart; a method that allows for minute observation and a floating series of associations, both of which Levine and Meckler handle deftly. At least from the bits I’ve sampled; I only caught wind of this when Press Play noted it this week. One upside of jumping on 2/3rds through is entering just when “one of the greatest closeups in the history of the artform” lights up from the shadows.

Harry Lime appears

Levine and Meckler admit right up front their idea is borrowed from Nicolas Rombe’s similar breakdown of Blue Velvet for Filmmaker Magazine. This was mentioned back when the project started and seemed like it could go on forever; but in fact Rombe will be finishing up in just a couple of weeks, so if you’d missed it before, why not catch up before the home stretch?

The Movie Morlocks blog has been devoting the past week to the films of Toshiro Mifune, whose great, long career led to a filmography diverse enough to allow discussions of masterpieces by Kurosawa and Boorman alongside misfires by Frankenheimer and curiosities like Samurai Pirate, opportunistically retitled The Lost World of Sinbad for its American release.

“It’s not paradise all the time.” Not Coming to a Theater Near You has selected the next director for their retrospection:  Andy Sedaris, who in fairness did come up with the cleverly exploitive idea of combining a James Bond backbeat with kinda-sorta feminist riffs. David Carter and Glenn Heath, Jr., team up for the introduction; Heath tackles Hard Ticket to Hawaii; Carter, Picasso Trigger.

Drew McIntosh has been finding much to savor in some late, generally dismissed Walsh. For instance, The King and Four Queens, “a very weird and kind of sad movie masquerading as an extremely jovial one.”

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of August 3

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

Kim Novak in the newly anointed Greatest Film of All Time

“Then suddenly, less than one week before election—Defeat! Shameful. Ignominious.” The decadal parlor game that is Sight & Sound’s survey of the 50 Greatest Films of All Time is once again upon us, and as you’ve heard the enfant terrible’s showstopper has finally been taken down by the aging master’s haunting fantasia. Thoughts on the results certainly aren’t hard to find, and while some have merit—Roger Ebert’s assertion that all great movies only grow better with familiarity, Jonathan Rosenbaum’s tracking of cinephile fashion, Scott Tobias’s refutation of claims the list is too stodgy—Jim Emerson’s the only one asking the main question on my mind: Where are the comedies?

“Like other actress who didn’t suggest pampered debutantes, Clarke got hard-luck roles: hoofers, hookers and gang molls. At the lowest point of the Depression, there was a lot of hard luck to go around.” Taking in Mae Clarke’s rush of pre-code films, Imogen Smith marvels at Clarke’s adaptability to the breakneck pace (19 films in three years)—and wonders at how often she’s the vessel for some of the era’s most darkly misogynist impulses.

“In France we visited a location at which they were shooting a scene of a French film. There were at least ten cine-mobiles there, while we don’t even have one of them in Iran and we don’t need them. To make The Mirror, I had a crew of six, and I didn’t need an inefficient seventh one.” For Fandor, Ehsan Khoshbakht translates several excerpts from Jafar Panahi’s Iranian interviews.

Roland-François Lack charts the chronology of Le petit soldat; as slippery and uncertain an effort as you’d expect, given Godard’s use of allusions to drag events of the recent past into the then-present day. A present day that wound up delayed for two years by French censors, anyways.

“Hedren isn’t remotely interested in how beautiful Miller is in the film [about the making of The Birds] (which she is). What she cares about is that Sienna plays her ‘strong’. ‘And not shy,’ she says. ‘Because I was not, not at all.'” Nor is she now, as Rosie Millard’s visit to Tippi Hedren’s Shambala proves. Link via Movie City News.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of June 27

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

Is it legitimate to theorize that some culpability for the brutal murders in Aurora lie at the feet of the movies themselves? Apparently, after throat-clearing assertions of their civil libertarian backgrounds, many film writers feel in this circumstance it would be irresponsible not to speculate. Some have ratcheted up from the film itself to the industry—recall the violent legacy of Warner Brothers studio—or even exhibitors—perhaps midnight screenings should be suspendedPeter Bogdanovich blames the movies being too violent—actually, he has Orson Welles do it for him, which tells you how long that argument’s been floated. Speechless myself (out of frustration at my own ignorance and disgust at the inadequacy of words to limn the pain and horror and fury of it all), I find that Bill R. and Glenn Kenny are right that, pace Mr. Bogdonavich’s current ambivalence, he said everything I had to on the topic 44 years ago.

Boris Karloff in Peter Bogdanovich’s ‘Targets’

“What did she realize, Kitten?” “That all the songs she’d listened to, all the love songs, that they were only songs.” “What’s wrong with that?” “Nothing, if you don’t believe in them. But she did, you see.” The new Senses of Cinema inducts Neil Jordan into their database of Great Directors; Carole Zucker ably handles the honors, focusing on how Jordan’s understanding of fairy tales informs his sensibilities. Elsewhere in the issue, Murray Pomerance finds even the interior-bound Go Go Tales suffused with Abel Ferrara’s nonpareil sense of New York; and Jacques de Villiers traces Germany’s romantic heritage, including the Nazi’s perversion of it, throughout Herzog’s Aguirre.

David Bordwell reminds you it’s not just red-state schoolboards that plunk down for creationism over evolution despite all evidence to the contrary; it’s also film lovers obsessed with proclaiming what they deem the first instances of a technique while disregarding the context that led to it. Returned from his latest visit to the Royal Film Archives in Brussels, Bordwell provides several lovely examples of deep-focus blocking from mostly forgotten German and Italian silents. In a subsequent post, he rhapsodizes over a magnificent shot of passengers fleeing a sinking ship from the 1918 Italian serial I Topi Grigi, and provides a link to Joseph North’s fine thesis paper on the film’s Fantomasian antihero, the mostly forgotten Za La Mort.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of July 20

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.


“The broad panorama will now give way to separate action on each of the three screens, making possible extraordinary juxtapositions of images. Every symbol becomes palpable. The cinema enters a new era; from the melodic, it becomes the symphonic.” Jon Boorstin does what he can with those feeble substitutes, words, to capture the sweep of images and “pure emotion” of Abel Gance’s Napoleon. Also at the LA Review of Books, Jacob Mikanowski leaps off from a review of Geoff Dyer’s Zona to marvel at the career of Tarkovsky, an oeuvre “both extremely diverse and radically consistent. His films span a number of genres, and belong to none.”

Filmmaker Magazine has once again done the spadework for you and posted its annual list of the 25 New Faces of Independent Film. Actually 37 this time around, as permanent collaborations and collectives become more a part of the movie-making landscape.

“Meanwhile, Tim took me over to his car, opened the trunk, and pulled out a bottle of vodka and a Styrofoam cup. He poured the vodka to the very top. Keep in mind I was 14 and a total lightweight. I was not a big drinker. I downed the cup, just gulped it right down. Then he poured another cup, a second one, and I gulped that one down. Tim then got me a beer from the crew and said, ‘Drink this as fast as you can.'” “I don’t remember doing that, but it sounds possible.” The great Over the Edge gets the oral history treatment from Vice’s Mike Sacks.

“Stylization suits film noir, is even necessary to it, because noir is about subjective, interior states. Expressionism literally brings the inside to the surface; as in dreams, people in film noir move through worlds distorted by their own fears and desires.” Imogen Sara Smith on how Robert Siodmak found the perfect genre for his unabashed flourishes to become the hallmarks of a master filmmaker.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of July 13

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

Projecting Bresson

B. Kite and Kent Jones continue their discussion on Bresson, still from different viewpoints but enthusiastically agreeing that whatever labels you slap on the director only prevent you from engaging the genuine, irreducible strangeness of his films. Also at Film Comment, the Trivial Top 20 tallies the filmmakers who have most often directed themselves, surely the only category of human behavior in which Woody Allen and Sammo Hung could wind up in a tie.

Bologna’s Il Cinema Ritrovato having wrapped, the festival dedicated to rediscovery is now itself the subject of retrospectives. Girish Shambu (along with his typically fine selection of links) and Sight & Sound’s Geoff Andrew eloquently repeat much of what’s been praised elsewhere—Walsh, Grémillon—while Kristin Thompson charts her own path, hunting down screenings of Ivan Pyr’ev and sketching out some intriguing thematic connections among a disparate collection of post-Wall-Street-crash movies.

Rounding up some recent blog posts and Variety columns, Andrew O’Hehir suggests that the movies’ long adolescent phase may finally be drawing to a close. Which willfully optimistic tea-reading perhaps only shows you how strong the lure of happy endings can be.

Peter Cook’s marvelous selection of cinema’s 50 greatest matte paintings reminds you how many histories there are in an art as collaborative as the movies, and that however many masters’ names you’ve memorized there’s always more—Albert Whitlock, Matthew Yuricich, Walter Percy Day, Emil Kosa—to be learned. First posted in May, but just spotted and passed along by Movie City News.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of July 6

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

The new issue of the multilingual journal La Furia Umana has arrived, with sections devoted to Leo McCarey, Paul Vecchiali, Jean-Claude Rousseau, and José Luis Guerín. Those fluent in more tongues than I, or better able to sort out the jumbled babble of computer translations, will likely have their own list of favorites; but among the English highlights are Ted Fendt’s tracing McCarey’s theme of marital deception to his Charley Chase two-reelers (“he had more or less already made The Awful Truth many times by 1937”); Daniel Kasman arguing for Once Upon a Honeymoon, with its daring, incompatible mix of romantic gameplaying and real-world horrors, as “potentially the most uncomfortable film the studio era ever produced”; Dmitry Martov on the auditory wonders of Guerín’s In the City of Sylvia; and Jessica Felrice’s lovely appreciation (“There is struggle that pushes through this otherwise melancholic and pensive film.”) of the director’s Train of Shadows.

Leo McCarey’s ‘Once Upon a Honeymoon’ – “romantic gameplaying and real-world horrors”

“It’s somehow…modest…and personal, intimate…and there’s something that I can’t quite put my finger on…that somehow connects it perfectly to an ineffable component of the Right Stuff.” Philip Kaufman, ever astute in his musical selections, fills in The Atlantic’s Andrew Cohen on his use of “The Red River Valley” in his HBO film Hemingway & Gellhorn, and explains how he’d first thought of using the song years earlier to underscore John Glenn.

Gimmick, economic necessity, or aesthetic choice, making a silent film in the sound era is part of a long tradition, as Fandor’s Michael Atkinson demonstrates by offering a dozen films (some in fairness shoehorned in) that predate The Artist in going wordless.

“You Nexus, huh? I design your eyes.” “Chew, if only you could see what I’ve seen with your eyes.” In honor of the movie’s 30th anniversary, Tom Shone posts an excerpt from his book Blockbuster on the making and commercial unmaking of Blade Runner.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of June 29

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

The Warwick Trading Company’s Joseph Rosenthal, with his Bioscope camera, at the time of the Anglo-Boer War

“A written description is always and forever the point of view, more or less biased, of the correspondent. But the biograph camera does not lie, and we form our own judgment of this and that as we watch the magic screen.” I’ve only read the first quarter or so of Stephen Bottomore’s Filming, faking, and propaganda: The origins of the war film, 1897-1902. But since the document itself (a 2007 thesis, posted online by the author) is over 550 pages, that’s a hefty enough chunk to recommend this as a magnificent read. Tracing his subject from the 1897 Greco-Turkish War—which British correspondent Frederic Villiers rode through on a bicycle, movie camera in tow—to the Boxer uprising, Bottomore establishes his history as a crucial one for the public understanding of cinema. After so many war films turned out staged, censored, reenacted (Villiers returned home to find his footage worthless, already overshadowed by the “artificially arranged scenes” shot in Méliès’s Paris studio), or dishonestly promoted, the early audience’s naive trust of cinema, embodied in the historical quote above, was as shattered as any victim of the battlefield. Recommended, and introduced more informatively than I could ever manage, by The Bioscope.

David Bordwell is such a natural born teacher that he even takes the opportunity to educate while passing along news that his and Kristin Thompson’s seminal textbook Film Art is getting a new edition. And he’s such a perceptive observer that as always his thoughts—about Kubrick’s use of limited POV in a scene from Spartacus, and Vidor’s unconventional sound mix of a phone call in H. M. Pullman, Esq.—smack your brainpan like someone just flipped your Common Sense switch to ON.


“I don’t mind if you don’t like my manners, I don’t like them myself. They are pretty bad. I grieve over them on long winter evenings.” Joel Bocko looks at the very different codes of honor that drive Hammett’s cynical Sam Spade and Chandler’s romantic Philip Marlowe—and praises Bogart (and the very different concerns for fidelity driving Huston and Hawks) for subtly capturing the distinctions.

“Douglass had an elongated kind of pretty face and an eager-to-please manner that could make him seem very brittle. Whenever he spoke, it always seemed that he was trying to force his voice down lower than it naturally was.” Dan Callahan on the odd, desperate appeal of Douglass Montgomery, too indecisive to settle on a stage name let alone a persona, but who was captivating nevertheless on more than one occasion.

Photogénie, a new blog sponsored by the Flemish Service for Film Culture, is thus far dedicated to reports from the Il Cinema Ritrovato festival in Bologna; more specifically, to recounting the series of panel discussions grouped under the heading Cinephilia Rediscovered, which has included such commentators as Hoberman, Girish Shambu, and Cannes artistic director Thierry Frémaux, with streaming videos presented of each panel. Elsewhere at the site, Tom Paulus declares the early, silent films of Jean Grémillon the “major (re)discovery” of the festival. Passed along by David Hudson.

Jim Emerson recalls the formation of his cinema-love, and how it emerged hand-in-glove with a need to explain and communicate the wonders, as if that would let him possess the ephemeral, in a beautifully illustrated entry at his blog.

“I like that my characters’ heads don’t bump against the top of the frame. I like to show the sky, the trees, the mountains, even the roofs of houses, so much so that I only feel at ease in rooms with high ceilings.” Ted Fendt translates a brief article from a 2001 Cahiers du cinéma wherein Eric Rohmer declares his utter fidelity to 1:33 and lays the “expressive poverty of the image today” at the stretched-out feet of scope.

Stumbling across some Joseph Pevney movies, and half-remembering some others (“Splendidly lurid…. He has a single tone to offer, one that stretches to fit all but is, nonetheless, alluringly negative.”), has Richard Brody contemplating the merits of “good bad directors” over “bad good directors.”

‘The Third Generation is fascinating. It’s also worrying. I keep wondering how long Mr. Fassbinder can continue this remarkable pace.’ Not much longer.” At Moving Image Source J. Hoberman tracks the reception Fassbinder’s films received from the New York critics, managing to eulogize not just the director but also the ’70s as a time when movies mattered.

Ermanno Olmi’s ‘Il Posto’

Admitting he’s only seen four of Olmi’s films, Jonathan Rosenbaum ponders what buried auteurist links (some fine thoughts on Olmi’s distinctive use of sound stand out in particular) might connect the director’s autobiographical, staunchly neorealist films and his conventionally cast literary adaptation Legend of the Holy Drinker.

“Her daydreams are all real…. Each one was dreamt by a woman we spoke to. But the character’s life with her husband–that is artificial. So the reality is unreal. That’s part of the mystery of Belle de Jour. It’s a very strange film.” Jean-Claude Carrière looks back on his collaboration with Buñuel—and others, briefly—with the Guardian’s Ryan Gilbey.

Science and art, ever uneasy bedfellows, meet in eye-pleasingly gradated fashion over at Vijay Pandurangan’s blog, where the engineer hunkered down, scanned the web for data from 1914 to 2012, wrote some computer code, and presents the best proof yet for what many have suspected: Movie posters are getting bluer as the years go by. Link via Mubi.

Fiction: “The surgeon with a cigarette dangling from his lips gives the escaped con a new face, and if there’s a knock on the door, the chances are that a man with a gun will enter the room and shoot first, ask questions later. What do you want me to do, count to three like they do in the movies?” Before settling in to a parody of academic publishing and Oulipian constraints, the first half of David Lehman’s amusing short story “No R” consists of an extended survey of noir, in that breathlessly condensed fashion the genre so often prompts from writers.


Nora Ephron – essayist, humorist, novelist, screenwriter, and director – died this week at the age of 71. Tom Hanks, who starred in two of her most successful films, reminds us that “Her writing was always voice and detail” in a personal remembrance at Time Magazine. More tributes and obituaries collected by David Hudson at Fandor’s Daily.

The weekly links page is compiled and curated by Bruce Reid in collaboration with the editor of and contributors to Parallax View.

The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of Friday, June 22

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.


In what seems to be the start of a series, and an invaluable one at that, B. Kite and Kent Jones have put up a pair of fascinating articles at Film Comment’s blog on Robert Bresson (part one and part two). Each tries to clear away the clutter surrounding the director—Kite by praising his hard-boiled fascination with process; Jones asserting the primacy of his Christianity, however uncomfortable that makes some modern critics—and both are enraptured by the gleaming sensuality that radiates from such purportedly austere films, prompting affinities from Astaire to Huston to Webb.

“My ball-grabbing opening had young Balzac and his mother in a runaway stagecoach, hurtling along a treacherous road next to a cliff, the future novelist struggling with the reins of the startled horses and finally saving the day. Hell, Balzac was going to be a sexy adventure picture with plenty of action!” Also at Film Comment, their recent list of the best movies never made has been expanded to a two-part, still-growing rundown of projects abandoned over the years, not least a literary biopic à la Fuller (a through k here, l through z here).

Movie lists can be an easy, tossed-off way to drive hits to a website; and they can still be a labor of love, as proven by Film Comment above and by Popmatters’s latest addition to their collection of Essential Film Performances, last updated in 2010. Halfway through a promised 50 selections, and several choices already veer admirably from the beaten path: most such lists, arranged alphabetically, would hit the midpoint with Charles Laughton, but how many would be praising his turn in This Land Is Mine?

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of June 15

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events, including the “Best of SIFF” series and other post-SIFF releases, are surveyed at Parallax View here.

Girish Shambu leads off his typically fine collection of links with a welcome announcement: Issue 2 of LOLA, the film journal he edits with Adrian Martin, has arrived. The articles are being released piecemeal over the next few weeks, but already there’s such delights as the transcript of a Raúl Ruiz speech from 2005, an almost discomfitingly intimate recollection of Gilbert Adair by Alexander García Düttmann, and a clutch of articles on Chantal Akerman highlighted by an exhaustive, playful, yet fiercely honest interview with Nicole Brenez.

Also presenting their new issue, Experimental Conversations, which leads off with an excellent resource for further study, a tantalizing survey of Thailand’s up-and-coming arthouse directors conducted by Jit Phokaew and friends.

“Sounds like you had a strict upbringing.” “You might say that.” At Movie Morlocks, the Horror Dads offer a back-handed salute to Father’s Day by discussing some of the genre’s most memorably vile patriarchs.

The Cine-Files, a journal by the grad students of the Savannah College of Art and Design, dedicates its second issue to the French New Wave, and the children of Deleuze and Vitaminwater acquit themselves nicely to the challenge. Several distinguished interviewees (including Louis Menand, Jonathan Rosenbaum, and Mary Wiles on meeting Rivette) establish the history, while a trio of student filmmakers confirm the period’s influence extending to the future. Spotted by Film Studies for Free.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of June 8

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events, from the final weekend of SIFF to a revival screening of Pretty Poison to the openings of Prometheus (wide) and Moonrise Kingdom (not so wide), are surveyed at Parallax View here.

One underappreciated aspect of criticism is how it can sometimes spin gold from flax. Case in point, a silly little vidcast dialogue (it never raises to the level of an argument) between A. O. Scott and David Carr on the nature of film critics is eminently skippable; but, in submitting it to one of the epic Fiskings of all time, Jim Emerson carves out one hell of a mission statement for his profession.

“But if you had kept on, if you’d loved it enough to keep on fighting and struggling, why that fight would show in your face today—in your eyes, in your whole being.” David Bordwell’s anatomy of film acting reaches the putative windows to the soul, and proves it’s not the eyes themselves that communicate, but the lids and brows. Which very, very few have wielded so expressively at Bette Davis.

“Where there’s revolution there’s confusion and when there’s confusion a man who knows what he wants stands a good chance of getting it.” Introducing a Film Forum retrospective, J. Hoberman offers a political reading of the Spaghetti Western, a genre inspired by Fanon and Gramsci as much as Ford, and traces its left-leaning sentiments to some key Hollywood westerns of the previous decade. (A brief note in the comments from Dave Kehr intriguingly suggests the lineage stretches back even further, to ’30s Bs.)

At Artforum, photographer Taryn Simon and Brian De Palma talk about their all-consuming passion: the perfect image, the focus necessary to achieve it, and the efforts of governments to censor it once it’s made. Yes, the pair met collaborating on Redacted; but don’t hold that against them, it’s a rather interesting discussion.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of June 1

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

“In a zombie apocalypse (Night of the Living Dead) or a secret alien takeover (Invasion of the Body Snatchers), you fall asleep one evening and when you wake up in the morning the world has changed. Your relatives and your friends, your neighbors and the friendly folks who run the dry cleaners reveal themselves as the monsters they’ve always been, beneath the lie of civilization, of affection. They look the same, but now they want to destroy you, to consume you. And you have to keep running.” Colson Whitehead sums up the lessons learned—some silly, some transcendent—from an adolescence steeped in horror and sci-fi flicks.

Erich Von Stroheim and friends in 'The Wedding March' (1928)

“The newspaper mogul and moral crusader Martin Quigley called Greed ‘the filthiest, vilest, most putrid picture in the history of motion pictures.’ Stroheim retorted, ‘You Americans are living on baby-food.'” Prompted by a Film Forum retrospective, Imogen Smith assesses what one can of the mangled filmography of Erich von Stroheim, finding a moral absolutist who knew how to please a crowd, a hyper-realist less interested in realism than in truth, and an actor forced into a series of self-parodying roles who kept finding the dignity buried therein.

Among other fine links, Girish Shambu notes Here & Now, an intriguing new blog project from Michael Koresky. Picking a year, then three representative films, Koresky is attempting to parse out his own understanding of a given era by skidding backwards and forwards in time with the movies. (1948, for instance, offers the “marvelous images of Manhattan” from Portrait of Jennie, the “fixed and inescapable” frozen time of Rope, and the “desperate moment” captured in Germany Year Zero.) A nifty idea for cinema-as-time-machine, and one so far worth riding along with.

As recounted by Ben Slater, there was more interesting drama behind the cameras than made it onscreen for the first American production shot in Singapore, 1969’s Wit’s End, aka Dragon Lady (“packs the punch of the Orient!”), aka The GI Executioner. With a separate collection of screenshots reminding you even the most indifferently made film invaluably documents cities now lost or never seen. Link via David Hudson.

David Cairns uses two 1948 mermaid movies—the British Miranda and America’s Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid—to point out some differences between the two nations. Though it’s hardly fair to praise England for a healthier, more forthright eroticism when their nymph was played by Glynis Johns.

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The View Beyond Parallax… more reads for week of May 25

The only links page that matters… except for all the others.

Seattle screenings and cinema events are surveyed at Parallax View here.

Henry Fonda walks through 'The Grapes of Wrath'

“A black friend of mine, after seeing Henry Fonda in The Grapes of Wrath, swore that Fonda had colored blood. You could tell, he said, by the way Fonda walked down the road at the end of the film: white men don’t walk like that! and he imitated Fonda’s stubborn, patient, wide-legged hike away from the camera.” At Kino Slang, Andy Rector posts James Baldwin’s excellent, provocative reading of Lang’s You Only Live Once, from The Devil Finds Work.

Say this if you’re looking for a silver lining: Who ever thought Kathryn Bigelow would be mainstream enough that one of her films would be helped along by classified leaks from the White House? Yet that’s exactly what happened during the preproduction of Zero Dark Thirty. Here’s your links, helpfully sorted in order of outrage. If this strikes you as, ok, odd, but honestly no big deal, The Playlist has you covered. If you’re somewhat troubled by the implications, try The Guardian. Sputtering indignantly at the confluence of statist arrogance and Hollywood propaganda? Glenn Greenwald’s your man. And if you’re barely even upset because really, what did you expect after we placed a socialist traitor in the Oval Office, join the conversation at Judicial Watch, the organization which (admirably, in all sincerity) obtained the government records and has posted them online to sort through yourself.

“Creating something beautiful and becoming beautiful oneself are indistinguishable.” John Bailey recalls one of the highlights of filming Mishima: working with the incomparable Eiko Ishioka.

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