Recent reading, online and on paper: AMUSEMENT IS CONTROL

The Dissolve's most recent Movie of the Week was Back to the Future, which dropped like a bomb on me in 1985. I was at an age where I couldn't drive a car but I could be driven crazy by a teenage crush on a Hollywood sitcom star. I wasn't old enough to see an R-rated movie but I was old enough to be let loose in the mall without parental chaperoning. I had no personal experience of the 1950s but my parents sure spent a lot of time there. I identified with the oddball, loner-ish nature of both Marty and his dad; and I've always been a sucker for decently written science fiction, even if it's written as a comedy. The Dissolve's last essay over-thinks the films, in my opinion; but the Forum discussion was an enjoyable back-and-forth between a couple of critics who (I think) are just a little younger than I am.

A recent thrift shop find, Prof. Amos N. Guiora's Fundamentals of Counterterrorism would be better titled "Fundamentals of Justifying Your Pre-emptive Strike to the United Nations." After 130+ pages in that vein, though, the last section does present some strongly worded urgencies about protecting people's civil liberties in the face of known unknowns. While with a publishing date of 2008 it's a little behind the times, it offers an interesting view into the mindset of the people who are at the highest levels of responsibility for anti-terrorism decisionmaking.

Also picked up a copy of Frank Meeink's memoir Autobiography of a Recovering Skinhead. Pretty harrowing stuff, and I continue to wonder about the links between childhood abandonment and trauma, and addiction -- whether to substances or hate or whatever.

Finally, a treat came into the house: Don Hertzfeldt's The End of the World. Now, I'm a huge fan of Hertzfeldt's animation; he's arguably America's best living animator, using a technique, refined yet unchanged since 1995, that looks deliberately unsophisticated to deliver sophisticatedly multi-layered messages. (Er, the messages have improved since 1995; see, e.g., It's Such a Beautiful Day, a must-view on Netflix streaming right now.) I remember seeing Billy's Balloon way back in my "film festivals are a full-contact sport for me" days, and I've always been excited to see his new work as it comes out. This book, however . . .  it's got the Hertzfeldt non-sequiturs. It's got his pervasive existential doom (it is literally about the end of the world). It's got the horrific, the sublime, the sudden cut-to-black -- except it hasn't, right? Because it's not a film, it's a book. Really it's a bound storyboard. And I guess it's a fine storyboard; but I think Hertzfeldt's profundity comes in the pacing and repeated juxtapositions of images in his films, not in the images themselves. The images, as I say, have a deliberately unsophisticated design to them. Taking them out of the context of a motion picture -- films being like an artistic mathematics of images over time -- seriously diminishes Hertzfeldt's ability to effectively and fully get across his challenging and scary themes.

There was a joke list in The End of the World of about a dozen of the author's "other works." While I'll never get tired of Hertzfeldt's not-really non-sequiturs, I do wonder if the "other works" are just a list of notes for another storyboard.

All this to say, however -- I'm damned disappointed that I'm not at Sundance right now, body-checking the crowd for a seat at the premiere of World of Tomorrow tonight. Bah!

Friday jukebox: Syd Straw

Seven schools in seven states and the only thing different is my locker combination.

Philadelphia Film Festival's 20th Anniversary Film Festival

One of the city's innumerable film festivals is coming up soon. Convince me that I should make it the same full-contact sport that I used to. Or at least convince me which dozen films I should go see.

Oooh, wait -- a new Coriolanus with The Tree of Life's Jessica Chastain and a lot of explosions, starring and directed by Voldemort? Holy cow, I'm not sure how you can go wrong with that, except by not going to see it.

And something called Sleeping Beauty from Australia that bears some suspicious resemblance to Story of O, at least from the trailer. . . . Oh, and from the official website's synopsis, as well.

OK, so tell me which ten other films I should go see. But please don't suggest Barton Fink; I prefer Miller's Crossing.

"Are you Lithuanian?"

Caught the theatrical revival of The Man Who Fell to Earth last night.

God bless the 1970s.

A question remains for me, though: whose stillsuits came first, Walter Tevis's or Frank Herbert's? The novel The Man Who Fell to Earth was published and Dune began its Analog serialization in the same year, 1963. I can't possibly be the first person to notice that Newton and his family on the home planet are wearing outfits that are clearly functionally stillsuits. Has there been any conflict, from mere fandom drama to outright litigation, about this? (I'm curious, but not so interested to do more than to try some tricky googling to see what turns up.) I haven't read the Tevis novel, so I don't know if he names the clothing or just describes it and lets it go. I guess I'll put it on my mental list of books to pick up if I ever see it cheap or free.

"Dear Cinema Projectionist"

Earlier this month, the San Diego Reader reported that Terence Malick sent an open letter to projectionists where The Tree of Life would screen, asking them to kindly take a few extra steps when they show his newest work. One website has posted a scan of what they say is an original copy of the letter, as well as couple of other examples of "Dear Projectionist" letters from 2001 and 1975. The notes read as friendly, almost deferential requests ("I understand this is an unusual request yet I do need your help"; "[t]hank you for taking the time to consider this request") emphasizing the enormous amount of effort, art, and skill that the highly respected filmmaker put into films in question ("[a]n infinite amount of care was given to the look of [this film]"), and acknowledging the critical role of the projectionist in the audience's consumption of the artwork ("we consider projectionists to be the last remaining artisans of movie exhibition"; "[a] fraternal salute").

Joining the ranks of Malick, Kubrick, and Lynch is now highly successful former TV commercial director Michael Bay. If you think his recent letter to projectionists is anywhere near as classy, humble, or appreciative as the other three examples, you'd be wrong. Instead, he cajoles projectionists with silly but vaguely guilt-tripping team-building language ("[w]e are all in this together. Your theatres invested a lot of money in this equipment") and then warns that he'll put the blame squarely on them if audiences rebel ("your expertise defines the audience's experience"). That's right: if audiences and critics pan Transformers: Dark of Moon, it's because the film was badly projected -- not that it was badly conceived, written, edited, or crafted.

But far be it from me to concern-troll for the projectionists! I'll let them speak for themselves. Because, really, I couldn't have made the Trash Humpers reference any better on my own.

Mental health day

Retail therapy, a matinée of Malick's The Tree of Life, and maybe some music tonight.

Also, Sidney Lumet, R.I.P.

Best to start with the opening titles.

Low attendance for art-house films? Don't blame Philadelphia audiences

I wouldn't say I'm having fun reading it all, so let's say rather that I'm feeling some validation that I'm not the only cinema enthusiast in this town who's had it up to here with the sad, sad state of independent, artistic, and repertory film in Philadelphia. From the Cinedelphia blog in the past few days:

Prince Music Theater: EPIC FAIL - A festival screening of a Sundance award-winning film, with the filmmaker in attendance, had to be canceled after everyone (including the filmmaker) had shown up, because the projectionist failed to come to work and nobody at the Prince knew how to run the projector and sound.

Cinefest continues to prove its lameness . . . UPDATED - Politics and internal conflicts ahoy at TLA and the Philadelphia Cinema Alliance threaten the continued presence of knowledgeable, talented programmers for the festival.

The Philadelphia Cinefest starts this week . . . - "[M]any of the festival's guests (John Carpenter, Lucky McKee) will be appearing via Skype rather than in-person[.]" That's a quote that speaks for itself. Even the industry doesn't take the Philadelphia film festivals seriously.

The city film festival used to be a full-contact sport for me. Now it's split into two separate festivals, plus separate weeks for films with an LGBT, Asian, and Jewish focus. It's a waste of time and duplication (quintuplication?) of effort to reinvent the wheel five times per year for all these festivals. All the festival participants -- the organizers, the venues, the filmmakers, and the audiences -- lose when we have, essentially, single weeks of recognition that aren't big enough to draw sponsors, media, and more important films. Philadelphia won't have a world-class festival until the organizers decide they want one world-class festival and work together to make it happen.

One last note on a comment in the "continues to prove its lameness" post referenced above. Joseph Gervasi of Exhumed Films is quoted as saying, "Our pals at Ibrahim Theater @ International House have all kinds of stimulating film programming all year round. The state of cinema isn't sad in our city; it's the state of attendance for the events of worth." You know, I love the I-House. The projection is great (unlike the woefully and embarrassingly underpowered projection and lousy, lousy sound at the Prince); the seats are great since they put the new ones in; and they bring so many great films around that I wish I could spend my entire weekend there. But you know what? That's the problem. In order to see all the films you want to see at the I-House, you have to spend your entire weekend there. When they bring a repertory film in for a screening, it's for one single screening. If you're not free at 7:00 p.m. on Saturday 23 April, for example, you will miss the sole screening of Harlan County USA that they're putting on. A couple of rarities from Lindsay Anderson and Ken Russell will screen one time only at 7:00 on Thursday 28 April. And Todd Haynes' Poison, a very important film in the American independent film movement of the 1990s? One screening, 7:00 on Friday 6 May.

Other repertory cinemas around the world get a print for a week and show it several times from Tuesday through Sunday. One scheme I've seen is to alternate the film with another by the same filmmaker or with other films of the same genre. It can be like a miniature thematic film festival every week; or it can be as simple as running the film once per night for three or four days, plus a Sunday matinee. But the I-House, after going through all the trouble of getting these fantastic new Janus prints and running them in their newly refurbished archive-quality booth, offers just one screening of every movie they get. And the blame goes onto the audiences?

It's like the vicious circle you can get in public transit ridership. You don't have a full train, so you cut the number of daily trains that run on that line. So fewer commuters take the train, because it doesn't run at a convenient time. So you run fewer trains because it's inefficient to run a train that isn't full. So fewer commuters take the train, etc.

Blaming the audience for the lousy state of attendance at venues like the I-House is a little rough. The I-House makes me decide between a single screening of a repertory film and a huge number of other entertainment choices in town. It really kind of killed me to miss Warhol's The Closet and Derek Jarman's Blue this past Friday, for example. I would have attended if there had been another screening -- but I had a professional commitment that directly conflicted that night. On Saturday I met friends for live music, so I missed Wakefield Poole's Bijou. I would have dragged alongbrought a guest, too, so that's some $24 or $32 the I-House didn't make last week.

Now, I don't know the screening agreements the I-House makes with its distributors (is it a fee per screening, or a fee for unlimited screenings while they have the prints?), and I don't know how much it costs to open the house (more than my $8, of course). And I know that they use the theater for other events, like live music, lectures, and summer bar exam prep. But as an entertainment lawyer and a non-profit arts attorney, and as a businessperson, I can confidently state that the I-House makes zero dollars when the theater isn't used at all. And I understand the issue, because I've been to screenings at theaters in the U.S. and in Europe where it's been myself and maybe two other parties in the house. But give audiences a break. Film screenings aren't the only "events of worth" in Philadelphia; but even when they are, they'd compete better if audiences had more opportunities to attend them.

Driberally tonight

Drinking Liberally is a weekly social gathering where progressives talk politics and get to know one another. In Center City Philadelphia, we meet on Tuesday nights at José Pistola's upstairs bar, where there are drink specials from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m. And the more we tip the bartender, the more frequently he hands out free dishes of chips and dips. I hope to see you there!

José Pistola's is at 263 South 15th Street (15th and Spruce) in Center City, near the Kimmel Center and the Academy of Music. There's a parking garage across the street, but as filthy liberal hippies naturally we suggest public transit; both SEPTA and PATCO will get you there in two shakes of a lamb's tail.

This week's topic: There's a Philadelphia film festival happening, with an unnavigable website, a ticket purchasing system that burdens the user with printing out their own tickets, and an uninspiring roster of films chosen by an all-male, all-white crew of programmers. The film festival here used to be a full-contact sport for me, and it just breaks my heart that the offerings are so limited this year. Sometimes I feel as though I'm just counting the days until I can move back to a city with reasonable weather and a real film festival.

"Come for the beer, stay for the check"

Movie night at Moore College of Art and Design

Our most recent entry in the ongoing "How to Stalk Glomarization, Esq." series:

Tonight The Secret Cinema is presenting a program of surrealist animated shorts at the Moore College of Art and Design, 20th and Race Streets in Philadelphia:

Surrealism in American Animation will offer a sampling of the craziest, most imaginative, and funniest creations from the pens of classic Hollywood animators, with an emphasis on rarely shown films, from studios famous and obscure. These cartoons -- shown using scarce, beautiful prints culled from private archives, many in glorious I.B. Technicolor or shimmering black and white -- display the full range of classic animators' art and craft. Most of these cartoons have never been shown before by us.

Show is at 8:00 p.m.; admission is a low, low $5 $7.

I'm really looking forward to this program. There'll be stuff by Ub Iwerks and some of the other brilliant, brilliant talents of early American animation. YouTube just don't do their work justice; you truly have to see "the old Pin Cushion Man, terror of Ballooney-Land" projected on a real screen to appreciate the art: not just the animation and music, but also the Cinecolor and other detail that doesn't come through when you're talking pixels and video refresh rates.

No 2010 CineFest; what about the Film Festival?

Word on the street is that there will be no Cinefest (the spring film festival) this year.

The spring film festival used to be the only film festival: the [insert integer here] Philadelphia Film Festival, run by the Philadelphia Film Society. But that organization was split by creative and business differences in the past few years. One group, the Philadelphia Cinema Alliance, kept the spring festival and renamed it CineFest; and they continued the summer LGBT festival and renamed it QFest. The Philadelphia Film Society moved their festival to some largely irrelevant post-Toronto date in the fall.

This year the Cinema Alliance has encountered some serious funding problems, so no spring CineFest. Likely, the creative and business differences that divided the organization conquered it, too: the Cinema Alliance says they can't find sponsors. Maybe a critical mass of sponsors have fled to -- stayed with? -- the Film Society.

I'm sad to lose the spring festival, and not just because it's usually a full-contact sport for me. It's a weather thing as well. In this climate, there should be more to do in April than to eat ham or bitter herbs and pray for winter to end. I even call it "film festival weather": a cold night followed by a surprisingly warm, humid day, where the sun is shining one moment and then a rain squall blows through. By the time you're done standing in line to take your seat in the cinema, the weather has changed three times and you've lost your umbrella to the storm and you've lost your festival program to the poor fellow next to you who didn't have an umbrella at all when the rain started.

It's simply not the same in the fall. You don't get the same equinoctial storms, and you don't get the same sense of relief from winter cabin fever.

Best free website I've found this year

FreeDocumentaries.org offers free access to streaming video, without commercials, of documentary films. The films are not totally agenda-free: unfortunately a 9/11 truther piece is a prominent "featured video" on the home page; and the rest of the library is dominated by left-wing movies that likely deservedly never found a distributor. But the library does include The Road to Guantanamo, Super Size Me, and The Fog of War, three docs I missed when they were in general release.

Meet Me in St. Louis is the only Christmas movie you ever need to see

And you only ever need to see the following 2:29 of it:

Drexel Shaft to be demolished next month

Word on the street is that the Drexel Shaft (turn your sound off first) will be brought down by Controlled Demolition, Inc. (CDI), on Sunday 8 November, at 7:30 a.m. The Shaft is not actually a Drexel University structure, but is a chimney for an old Pennsylvania Railroad steam plant. The property belongs to Amtrak; the demolition may be related to the $25 million in stimulus money that Amtrak just got for upgrades along the northeast corridor.

As for CDI, they're known for bringing down various old casinos in Vegas, Seattle's Kingdome in 2000 (video), and some buildings in New York, depending on whom you believe.

10 pages in the San Fernando Valley

What do women performers get out of their jobs in porn?

[Highly successful porn film director] Jim [Powers] isn't the bad guy. He's the good guy. "I sleep at night," he informs me, his voice rising, "because I know, in my heart of hearts, I'm giving people money, that could not hold a job at fucking McDonald's, for the most part. I'm paying people's rent." He waves his hands spastically. "It's a lot more than I can say for a lot of the companies in America, pieces of shit, like Madoff, and Enron, all of these son of a bitches the Bush administration funded that do nothing but take, take, take! Here, I just give, give, give! And this is a fact!" he shouts, wild-eyed. "We are helping these girls! Anybody that comes into this business, for the most part, is a broken toy." He leans towards me, earnestly attempting to make himself understood. "We're giving them a place where they can make money, and get by, so they're not standing on line in a welfare department. Thank God for people like me!" He bangs the desk.

How about the men?

The men were there for many different reasons. They were lonely. They were horny. This was their fantasy. They wanted to be porn stars. They were fresh out of jail. They were social outcasts. They longed to be somebody, if only for a few minutes.

Afterwards, one polite young man in his twenties explained to me why he had taken Powers up on this opportunity to jerk off onto the face of a young woman whom he had never met before: "I'm not involved with anyone right now."

They were desperate men who had congregated on a barren soundstage in North Hollywood, stripped to their underpants with their faces hidden behind bandanas, all in the hopes of a fleeting chance at intimacy with a young, attractive, naked woman who would in the real world -- they knew in all likelihood -- never speak to them, much less allow any of them to come on her face, were she not being paid to be there.

Exceedingly interesting and NSFW 10-page article by Susannah Breslin, "They Shoot Porn Stars, Don't They?"

3:18 of why I love the hell out of movies

À mon avis, ça dit beaucoup de choses vraies. Sacrément vraies! (Don't panic: the film's in English. Joel and Ethan Coen made it for Cannes 2007 so it's subtitled in French.)

Resolved: 1984 was the best year for American movies, ever

EW lists a bunch of movies from 1984 and includes a lot of embedded video clips, but they left out the awesomest:



Joe Morton and Fisher Stevens in The Brother from Another Planet, John Sayles. I was going to link to the trailer, but the trailer is really, really bad. This scene, though, I can watch over and over again.

You wanna see a card trick? Really, it's a story.

Is the card trick guy really going to just tell a story? Isn't he going to hustle him for money at some point? When are we going to pull back and see the card trick guy's reinforcers move in for the hustle? You know something bad is going to happen from the camera work, too: the light is muted and cold, but most of the rest of the film doesn't look like that.

Not this time, sucker; I got a straight flush.

This is New York City in 1984, in the pre-Giuliani subway, and it's not going to end badly? Look at the alarm and relief on the Brother's face when the story ends (2:35). He wasn't sure, either.

I have another magic trick for ya. Wanna see me make all the white people disappear?

Profoundness: on practice bar exam questions

Snakes on a Plane: actionably negligent aircraft design or unforeseeable intervening force? (For those of you playing along with Pennsylvania Bar/Bri, it's question #14 in Torts Set 2 in the MPQ1 book.)

This must mean that law school has come full circle for me now. I went and saw Snakes on a Plane at the Bridge with friends for my birthday a week or so before orientation in 2006.

Today's to-do list

- Get up at the crack of ass in the morning

- Take daughter to school

- Use up the last of this academic year's free copying services at the school library to prepare incorporation papers for a 501(c)(3) educational organization related to promoting local filmmaking

- Desperately attempt to find a date for tonight's show down the street

- Put "finish writing last papers for law school" on another day's to-do list

- Pick up daughter from school

- Feed daughter, make daughter bathe, put daughter to bed; greet babysitter, show babysitter dinner, the DVD player, and the liquor cabinet

- Go out to the show down the street

A Discussion with the Quay Brothers

Local poet, puppet artist, and filmmaker Ish Klein interviews the Quay Brothers on poetry, puppetry, and films:



By evilolive3000films.