08/4/2012



4 notes

ratethatalbum: review of CHROMATICS - KILL FOR LOVE

ratethatalbum:

                                                        Chromatics 

                                                       Kill for Love

9.0/10

                                                          Must Listen

I’ve been waiting for this record for five years. And what’s worse than waiting for Chromatics’ followup to 2007’s Night Drive is when the project’s mastermind Johnny Jewel says Kill for Love will drop in January but then it doesn’t. Then on Valentines Day…but then it doesn’t. But the wait was totally worth it: Kill for Love is everything I hoped and wanted from Chromatics. 

The string of five singles the Portland band released were incredibly promising. Last October, the band dropped the title single, which ended up in my top 30 best songs of the year. Chromatics also released a video for their cover of Neil Young’s “Hey Hey My My (Into the Black)” — simply titled “Into the Black.” It’s a daring cover but the band does it justice as they have with other covers like Kate Bush’s “Running Up that Hill” and Bruce Springstein’s haunting “I’m on Fire.”

The band has gotten a larger audience lately thanks the fucking amazing 2011 film Drive. Some of Jewel’s music appeared in the thriller-noir film (including Chromatic’s heart-pumping “Tick of the Clock”). And what didn’t appear in the film apparently ended up on Jewel and label-mate Nat Walker’s breathtaking project Symmetry’s album Themes for an Imaginary Film. Instead of pop songs, the duo focused on emotion and a soundscape of beautiful synths and truly make you feel like living in a movie — and on Kill for Love the same thing happens but it’s not so blatant. 

Like M83, Chromatics draw on thematic elements that evoke raw emotion. While M83 focuses on things that make you feel young or like an angsty teen by the use of lyrics, Chromatic’s nearly use their sound. Just like Night Drive there is a strong sense of cinematic quality here most noticeably on the heartbreaking track “There’s a Light Out on the Horizon”  where a voicemail message of someone’s lover is deleted, all backed by  slick, cool, badass, don’t-give-a-fuck beat. You can just picture someone (Driver) riding in their car in the California desert with the sun slowly sinking down — the person has sunglasses on and just embodies badassness. 

But the more constructed pop songs, like “Return From the Grave” work towards the cinematic aesthetic. The creepiness of all the tracks take the LP into the right direction, especially coming from their last EP In the City. Kill for Love works so well it becomes a soundtrack to its own horror movie within itself. The ambient, drifting but beautiful songs like “The Eleventh Hour,” “Broken Mirrors” and “Running from the Sun” all work magnificently as mood pieces. They also make you appreciate the Chromatic’s pop songs like the mind-blowing “The Page,” and the reworked version of the masterful “Lady.” 

Not one track is a disappointment here. Although “The River” sounds better as Symmetry’s “Streets of FIre” it still holds its own. Even the 15 minute closer “No Escape” is a wonderful cherry on top. But tracks like “Birds of Paradise,” “Candy,” and the robotic/male-lead/auto-tune “These Streets Will Never Look the Same” and the before mentioned well-structured pop songs prove that Chromatics are one of the best bands out there today. 

(Source: isthisandno)

30/3/2012



268 notes
Rooney Mara

Rooney Mara

28/3/2012



230 notes
minusmanhattan: Archipelago Cinema by architect Ole Scheeren.
The temporary floating cinema nestled in the middle of a lagoon was constructed for the Film on the Rocks Yao Noi film festival in Thailand. 

minusmanhattan: Archipelago Cinema by architect Ole Scheeren.

The temporary floating cinema nestled in the middle of a lagoon was constructed for the Film on the Rocks Yao Noi film festival in Thailand. 

13/3/2012



52 notes

08/2/2012



2 notes

My Thoughts On…Network

neitherfamenorfortune:

Showed this to my students and they really got it (some of em). They really responded to the caustic tone and message. It’s a brilliant piece of work, full of insane dialogue and bravura performances, great speeches and all guided by the wonderful hand of Sidney Lumet.

I have just started reading Lumet’s ‘Making Movies’ book and it’s already (two chapters in) one of the best books on filmmaking I’ve ever read.

Lumet is an invisible tower in American cinema. Never at the forefront of lists or chatter but look at that body of work. 

Network is easily as good as anything he made, any film on the business of media, or any movie of that golden American era of the 1970s.

Powerfully written by Paddy Chayefsky it just oozes menace, style, power and truth. It’s hard, but cinematically warm and tight. Powerful, wonderful stuff.

I second EVERYTHING in this post. Will check out the Lumet’s book. Thanks.

18/1/2012



25 notes

Michael Fassbender Gets His Ass Kicked In HAYWIRE

so steven soderbergh has a new flick coming our way this friday, and i’m happy to say that despite Michael Fassbender’s presence, Haywire looks absolutely nothing like Full Frontal. har har. seriously, this is a very good thing, cause when Soderbergh isn’t working with David Duchovny’s prop erection, dude pretty much only makes good films (and that includes Bubble and Ocean’s Twelve, for those of you keeping score). i’ve seen this sequence in its entirety, and it’s a doozy, an instant highlight of a filmography that’s comprised of nothing but. Gina Carano’s experience allowed Soderbergh to stage fight scenes in a way that has proven impossible for most western films, and this clip here is a bruising hint at what’s in store. 

(clip comes via Total Film)

(Source: truthandmovies)

30/11/2011



50 notes

The Opening Sequence of Kieslowski’s RED

one of the greatest opening sequences in all of cinema, as densely loaded a pre-title blitz as one might expect from Krzysztof Kieslowski’s final film.

Red isn’t coy with its primary theme of fraternity, which could be argued to be the overarching theme of the Three Colors trilogy as a whole (if you were sadistically forced to pick just one). It explodes out of the gate, physically connecting the opposite sides of a phone call by following the signal through the fiber-optic wires in a blitz of images that anticipates the impossible cameras of David Fincher and makes you wonder what sort of miracles Kieslowski might have worked with today’s technology. 

Criterion’s Three Colors box set is out now.

(Source: truthandmovies)

25/11/2011



1,274 notes
Krzysztof Kieślowski filming BLUE (1993).

when people accuse me of “sitting down on the job,” i’m sure this photo is precisely representative of what they mean.  also, i don’t have a comprehensive list in front of me or anything, but this has gotta be one of the greatest photos of a director in action that the great annals of Tumblr have ever known.

Krzysztof Kieślowski filming BLUE (1993).

when people accuse me of “sitting down on the job,” i’m sure this photo is precisely representative of what they mean.  also, i don’t have a comprehensive list in front of me or anything, but this has gotta be one of the greatest photos of a director in action that the great annals of Tumblr have ever known.

(Source: strangewood, via truthandmovies)

Tagged: FILM, Kieslowski,

01/11/2011



1,261 notes
Tagged: Film, Drive, James Whíte,

20/10/2011



171 notes
byronic: Wuthering Heights (dir. Andrea Arnold, 2011)

Where to begin? It never gets old. There are as many interpretations of its story, subtext and symbolism as there are versions - movies, plays, poems, novels, stories, paintings, biographical studies, literary analyses. Here the setting is the key: this is England. Andrea Arnold creates an utterly realistic picture of Yorkshire: it’s a film moulded in mud and musk, dried leaves, pelting rain, blinding fogs, wind-swept heather, restless rocks. The colour palette is all brown and green, occasionally tinted with the colour of rancid milk. It’s not the pastoral Yorkshire we have come to picture through Romantic words, no Lake-District-travel-brochure green dotted by bright daffodils or sheep, no place for ”emotions recollected in tranquillity”. Everything here is turmoil and tumult - the earth friable and unsteady, the sky ready to open and fall down. It’s Yorkshire as I remember it from visiting in the early winter.

But of course realism is not the only key. The landscape is charged with something that exceeds faithfulness to a location, something that’s not mere filmic symbolism but rather supernatural significance. In this sense, Arnold’s film is much more true to the Romantic imagination than previous versions, but the effect of such construction of landscape is far from sublime, more repulsive. The place is possessed with a portentous Tarkovskian memory, a parchment torched with past abuse and trauma - the flaming hot cheeks of a boy slapped hard, the scabby scars a girl picks and licks. Violence returns unquenched by time and education, unwieldy passion seeks and destroys.

Heathcliff is black - black of heart and black of skin. Although I must confess I have never seen it done before, this is not a particularly new idea: literary criticism has been pondering the provenance and identity of Heathcliff for years now - Irish foundling? Abandoned gypsy baby? Abducted slave? What is striking is that despite this casting choice, the obvious moral meditations about race and racism that would follow do not cross the threshold of this world. Heathcliff’s treatment at the hands of piggish, racist Hindley is cringe-worthy and horrible, but fortunately Arnold feels no need to hammer the point home. 

However, Arnold’s films are never generically straightforward or politically naive: Fish Tank was a terrific exercise in disguising dystopian fiction as social realism, and Wuthering Heights is social realism masked as period drama. Wuthering Heights’ England speaks of today’s England, quite literally by speaking the same language of cunts and fucks and bastards and okays heard all over England’s green and pleasant land. The effect of twenty-first century speech delivered in breeches and corsets is at the same time disruptive and utterly beguiling, and it carries Arnold’s political statement: Heathcliff’s voice - just as much as Hindley’s - is the voice of those rioters who set England ablaze earlier this summer - a class despised by the elite, neglected, and abused, for whom violence becomes the only language. 

But the politics don’t get in the way of the heart of the story. As much as Fish Tank, Wuthering Heights burns with the fire and brimstone of teenage, a time of incomprehension and confusion, the inability to read the signs of adulthood while the body speaks a language mysterious and compelling. Desire. Sex. Rage. 

The compulsion of violence pervades humans and nature alike: the wind lashes the moors as much as women’s hair and men’s coats; animals die senselessly and get murdered without pity. And yet this raw, brutal, harsh world, is not without poetry; only it’s more Ted Hughes than Wordsworth - both Northern men, one tragic and the other solemn.

My only criticism is that, unfortunately, Arnold also seems to suffer from the latest ailment of contemporary directors: the inability to end the film where it should. A good twenty minutes of this could be compressed into five, and the closing three minutes - where, alas, after an impressive and rigorous approach to soundtrack restricted the use of extradiegetic music - a modern song bursts in, with a crass disruptive effect. I hated it, and I am sorry for it: it sent up an extraordinary film with a cheap shot. I hope I will forget it happened.

byronic: Wuthering Heights (dir. Andrea Arnold, 2011)

Where to begin? It never gets old. There are as many interpretations of its story, subtext and symbolism as there are versions - movies, plays, poems, novels, stories, paintings, biographical studies, literary analyses. Here the setting is the key: this is England. Andrea Arnold creates an utterly realistic picture of Yorkshire: it’s a film moulded in mud and musk, dried leaves, pelting rain, blinding fogs, wind-swept heather, restless rocks. The colour palette is all brown and green, occasionally tinted with the colour of rancid milk. It’s not the pastoral Yorkshire we have come to picture through Romantic words, no Lake-District-travel-brochure green dotted by bright daffodils or sheep, no place for ”emotions recollected in tranquillity”. Everything here is turmoil and tumult - the earth friable and unsteady, the sky ready to open and fall down. It’s Yorkshire as I remember it from visiting in the early winter.

But of course realism is not the only key. The landscape is charged with something that exceeds faithfulness to a location, something that’s not mere filmic symbolism but rather supernatural significance. In this sense, Arnold’s film is much more true to the Romantic imagination than previous versions, but the effect of such construction of landscape is far from sublime, more repulsive. The place is possessed with a portentous Tarkovskian memory, a parchment torched with past abuse and trauma - the flaming hot cheeks of a boy slapped hard, the scabby scars a girl picks and licks. Violence returns unquenched by time and education, unwieldy passion seeks and destroys.

Heathcliff is black - black of heart and black of skin. Although I must confess I have never seen it done before, this is not a particularly new idea: literary criticism has been pondering the provenance and identity of Heathcliff for years now - Irish foundling? Abandoned gypsy baby? Abducted slave? What is striking is that despite this casting choice, the obvious moral meditations about race and racism that would follow do not cross the threshold of this world. Heathcliff’s treatment at the hands of piggish, racist Hindley is cringe-worthy and horrible, but fortunately Arnold feels no need to hammer the point home. 

However, Arnold’s films are never generically straightforward or politically naive: Fish Tank was a terrific exercise in disguising dystopian fiction as social realism, and Wuthering Heights is social realism masked as period drama. Wuthering Heights’ England speaks of today’s England, quite literally by speaking the same language of cunts and fucks and bastards and okays heard all over England’s green and pleasant land. The effect of twenty-first century speech delivered in breeches and corsets is at the same time disruptive and utterly beguiling, and it carries Arnold’s political statement: Heathcliff’s voice - just as much as Hindley’s - is the voice of those rioters who set England ablaze earlier this summer - a class despised by the elite, neglected, and abused, for whom violence becomes the only language. 

But the politics don’t get in the way of the heart of the story. As much as Fish Tank, Wuthering Heights burns with the fire and brimstone of teenage, a time of incomprehension and confusion, the inability to read the signs of adulthood while the body speaks a language mysterious and compelling. Desire. Sex. Rage. 

The compulsion of violence pervades humans and nature alike: the wind lashes the moors as much as women’s hair and men’s coats; animals die senselessly and get murdered without pity. And yet this raw, brutal, harsh world, is not without poetry; only it’s more Ted Hughes than Wordsworth - both Northern men, one tragic and the other solemn.

My only criticism is that, unfortunately, Arnold also seems to suffer from the latest ailment of contemporary directors: the inability to end the film where it should. A good twenty minutes of this could be compressed into five, and the closing three minutes - where, alas, after an impressive and rigorous approach to soundtrack restricted the use of extradiegetic music - a modern song bursts in, with a crass disruptive effect. I hated it, and I am sorry for it: it sent up an extraordinary film with a cheap shot. I hope I will forget it happened.

05/10/2011



2,199 notes
“You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You’re chicken,  you’ve got no guts. You’re afraid to stick out your chin and say, “Okay,  life’s a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other,  because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness.” You  call yourself a free spirit, a “wild thing,” and you’re terrified  somebody’s gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you’re already in that  cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded in the west by Tulip,  Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It’s wherever you go. Because no  matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.”

Happy 50th, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

“You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You’re chicken, you’ve got no guts. You’re afraid to stick out your chin and say, “Okay, life’s a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness.” You call yourself a free spirit, a “wild thing,” and you’re terrified somebody’s gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you’re already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It’s wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.”

Happy 50th, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

(Source: life)

30/9/2011



59 notes
On-Set Photography Of ‘Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy’ Taken By Gary Oldman via Sight and Sound

19 black and white photos  - the Flickr set can be found here

On-Set Photography Of ‘Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy’ Taken By Gary Oldman via Sight and Sound

19 black and white photos  - the Flickr set can be found here

(via prostheticknowledge)

07/8/2011



22 notes
forwhenifeellikesharing:
Hanna is the kind of action film we need more of in abundance. It wasn’t made to become a franchise. It was made to be artful.

It’s incredibly well-acted, impeccably scored by the Chemical Brothers, and beautifully shot. I cannot get over how pretty some of the shots in this film were. The frames take into account the importance of shape, texture and coloring in a way you do not get often (or ever) in action films.

There are also so many visual and verbal references to fairytales, which is a major weakness of mine because I love it even when it gets a little heavy-handed. But even the storyline follows the narrative structure of a fairytale. A special little girl grows up in isolation and then sets out on a journey leading to a confrontation with the wicked witch responsible for her mother’s death and who she can undo just by existing. It starts in a desolate winter wonderland, takes you to an exotic desert and through industrial landscapes to end in a damp nightmarish fantasy world full lush greenery. I love that someone thought to take something so traditional and rooted in folklore and present it as an espionage film with just the right amount of science fiction to allow it to attain a certain level of fantasy.

Brilliant movie.

forwhenifeellikesharing:

Hanna is the kind of action film we need more of in abundance. It wasn’t made to become a franchise. It was made to be artful.

It’s incredibly well-acted, impeccably scored by the Chemical Brothers, and beautifully shot. I cannot get over how pretty some of the shots in this film were. The frames take into account the importance of shape, texture and coloring in a way you do not get often (or ever) in action films.

There are also so many visual and verbal references to fairytales, which is a major weakness of mine because I love it even when it gets a little heavy-handed. But even the storyline follows the narrative structure of a fairytale. A special little girl grows up in isolation and then sets out on a journey leading to a confrontation with the wicked witch responsible for her mother’s death and who she can undo just by existing. It starts in a desolate winter wonderland, takes you to an exotic desert and through industrial landscapes to end in a damp nightmarish fantasy world full lush greenery. I love that someone thought to take something so traditional and rooted in folklore and present it as an espionage film with just the right amount of science fiction to allow it to attain a certain level of fantasy.

Brilliant movie.

(via morgenstern)

Tagged: hanna, film, brilliance,

03/7/2011



6 notes
The whole movie has a winning sadness about it; take away the story’s sensational aspects and what you have is a study in loneliness. Richard Gere’s performance is central to that effect, and some of his scenes — reading the morning paper, rearranging some paintings, selecting a wardrobe — underline the emptiness of his life. We leave American Gigolo with the curious feeling that if women weren’t paying this man to sleep with them, he’d be paying them: He needs the human connection and he has a certain shyness, a loner quality, that makes it easier for him when love seems to be just another deal.

— Roger Ebert, in his review of Paul Schader’s 1980 film

The whole movie has a winning sadness about it; take away the story’s sensational aspects and what you have is a study in loneliness. Richard Gere’s performance is central to that effect, and some of his scenes — reading the morning paper, rearranging some paintings, selecting a wardrobe — underline the emptiness of his life. We leave American Gigolo with the curious feeling that if women weren’t paying this man to sleep with them, he’d be paying them: He needs the human connection and he has a certain shyness, a loner quality, that makes it easier for him when love seems to be just another deal.

— Roger Ebert, in his review of Paul Schader’s 1980 film

(Source: beenlookingforthemagic)

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