Bonnie and Clyde is about violence and crime, and the desire of the ego to define itself, to live in violence and crime if it can't in anything else. To this end it remains properly sympathetic to the characters it has plucked from history, the sympathy being given not to crime but to a process in which crime figures, to the action by which the ego displays itself as the embattled source of everything—crime, love, violence, goodness, error, dream.
The movies that split people down the middle, put in the Empire dock... Simon Ingram (Prosecution) and Kat Brown (Defence) on Steven Speilberg's "A. I.: Artificial Intelligence"
The Servant is a genuinely shocking experience for audiences with the imagination to understand the dimensions of the shock. In years to come The Servant may be cited as a prophetic work making the decline and fall of our last cherished illusions about ourselves and our alleged civilization.
2001: A Space Odyssey is fascinating when it concentrates on apes or machines, and dreadful when it deals with the in-betweens: humans. For all its lively visual and mechanical spectacle, this is a kind of space-Spartacus and, more pretentious still, a shaggy God story.
With images obtained during an investigation carried out in fifty eight slaughterhouses in Mexico between 2015 and 2017, «Slaughterhouse» is a documentary that takes us into the hermetic world of the meat industry.
In Leone’s hands, capitalism itself becomes a mythic force, as much a part of the landscape (it’s embodied here by the building of a railroad across the desert) as the horses or mountain ranges. In criticizing the myth — in filling in the economic relationships American westerns have skipped over —Leone expands and enriches it, which is what the best criticism does.
Once banned in several American states, Ireland and Norway - and subsequently marketed in Sweden with the tagline, "The film so funny it was banned in Norway" - Life Of Brian is Monty Python at their wittiest, ballsiest best. Taking aim at the fake piety of many religious folk, its genius is perhaps best exemplified by this lapidation set-piece, which riffs on the Gospel of John, Chapter 8.
Empire Contributing Editor Chris Hewitt virtually stalked Frank Darabont across the globe for this piece, from the director's LA office to the set of The Mist, where he spent three days watching him at work.
During the Iranian hostage crisis of 1979, the CIA mounted a covert plan to free six American diplomats in Tehran. The cover story was that a production company was about to shoot a massive sci-fi movie called Argo in the Iranian desert. This is the incredible story of the film that never was...
This movie has had the bad judgment to turn Robin Williams into a role model. Good Morning, Vietnam takes a real culture hero and turns him into a false one.
The Killing Fields, which is based on Sydney Schanberg’s 1980 Times Magazine article "The Death and Life of Dith Pran,” is by no means a negligible movie. It shows us the Khmer Rouge transforming Cambodia into a nationwide gulag, and the scenes of this genocidal revolution have the breadth and terror of something deeply imagined.
Will Blow-Up be taken seriously in 1968 only by the same sort of cultural diehards who are still sending out five-page single-spaced letters on their interpretation of Marienbad?
De Palma keeps our senses heightened that way all through Blow Out; the entire movie has the rapt intensity that he got in the slow-motion sequences in The Fury (1978). Only now, De Palma can do it at normal speed.
If John Huston’s name were not on Prizzi’s Honor, I’d have thought a fresh new talent had burst on the scene, and he’d certainly be the hottest new director in Hollywood. The picture has a daring comic tone—it revels voluptuously in the murderous finagling of the members of a Brooklyn Mafia family, and rejoices in their scams.
Rambo: First Blood Part II explodes your previous conception of “overwrought”—it’s like a tank sitting on your lap firing at you. Jump-cutting from one would-be high point to another, Rambo is to the action film what Flashdance was to the musical, with one to-be-cherished difference: audiences are laughing at it.
As a movie, Purple Rain is a mawkish fictionalized bio [...] It’s pretty terrible; the narrative hook is: will the damaged boy learn to love? There are no real scenes—just flashy, fractured rock-video moments.
Gremlins isn’t dull; there’s always something going on. In one scene, we discover that Giz can reproduce musical tones; nothing comes of it. The picture is an unholy mixture—a whimsical pop shocker—and finally nothing comes of any of it.
by Pauline Kael The great thing about a tall tale on the screen is that you can be shown the preposterous and the implausible. In Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, the director Steven Spielberg is like a magician whose tricks are so daring they make you laugh. He [...]
Jack has consistently avoided the movie-star trap of appearing in a string of safe, conventional movies by involving himself with films made by off-center creative artists involved in honest efforts to put something new and daring on the screen.
Gideon Bachmann had been on the set almost the entire time during the shooting of Salò, and while there he kept notes in the form of a diary describing Pasolini's activities and their conversations. What follows are random pages from that diary.
One of the worst failures of the movie is, implicitly, a rather comic modern predicament. Huston obviously can't make anything acceptable out of the Bible's accounts of sinfulness and he falls back upon the silliest stereotypes of evil
Olivier is the most physical Othello imaginable. As a lord, this Othello is a little vulgar—too ingratiating, a boaster, an arrogant man. Reduced to barbarism, he shows us a maimed African prince inside the warrior-hero, Iago’s irrationality has stripped him bare to a different kind of beauty.
Barry Lyndon non ha bisogno di chiamarsi Settecento. Se il titolo in Bertolucci indica l’intenzione astratta di definire storicamente quello che – dalla schematica situazione iniziale – si è riproposto come un film dai personaggi classici e «umani»; un film in cui della grandezza e casualità della Storia c’è solo la fluvialità del tempo e l’ampiezza della produzione (la storia economica del film), in Kubrick il nome – come si accennava – deve definire lo sparuto soggetto che è protagonista.
So Barry Lyndon is a failure. So what? How many “successes” have you seen lately that are half as interesting or accomplished, that are worth even ten minutes of thought after leaving them? By my own rough count, a smug little piece of engineering like A Clockwork Orange was worth about five. I’m reminded of what Jonas Mekas wrote about Zazie several years ago: “The fact that the film is a failure means nothing. Didn’t God create a failure, too?”
By far his most ambitious film to date technically and in the scope of its references, Taxi Driver shows Scorsese's urgency working at full throttle—to the film's considerable success and less considerable failure.
French director Alain Resnais’ remarkable film, Providence (1977), based upon a screenplay by British dramatist David Mercer, is a powerful but subtle exploration of the creative process. In its concern with the intertwining of past and present and their meeting ground in memory, Providence confirms that Resnais is the filmmaker whose work most closely corresponds to that of literary modernists such as James Joyce, Virginia Woolf, and Dorothy Richardson.
Crimes and Misdemeanors, written and directed by Woody Allen, is a sad, censuring look at the world-famous doctor and other crooks in high places who (in Allen’s view) have convinced themselves that they can do anything, because they don’t think God is watching.
Pauline Kael reviews 'New York Stories', the 1989 anthology film consisting of three shorts with the central theme being New York City. Episodes directed by Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola and Woody Allen.
What saves Munchausen from mediocrity is that you sense that Gilliam is brainstorming. He goes hippety-hoppety all over the place. The picture is too dry and too busy to be considered merely mediocre. And he has his gifts. He retains an edge of Monty Python’s cranky, warped slapstick, and he has a painter’s eye.
In Last Tango there is a quite plain idea—it’s very nearly a film with a message: sex as an instrument of power divorced from tenderness or curiosity results in chaos and despair.
Da Nang è lontana da Montelepre. La storia di Salvatore Giuliano e la guerra del Vietnam non si consumano sotto lo stesso cielo. Ma, forse, le traiettorie della "blindatissima" Full Metal Jacket e la parabola fatale del Siciliano attraversano lo "stesso" cinema.
Possibly there’s no way to make a picture this fast (it was shot in ten weeks) and achieve something comparable in greatness to the elegant comedy of evil that Laclos left us.
The director Alan Parker likes to operate in a wildly melodramatic universe of his own creation. In Mississippi Burning, which is set during the Freedom Summer of 1964, he treats Southerners the way he treated the Turks ten years ago in Midnight Express.
Pedro Almodóvar may be the only first-rank director who sets out to tickle himself and the audience. He doesn’t violate his principles to do it; his principles begin with freedom and pleasure.
BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID: THE BOTTOM OF THE PIT (also EASY RIDER, MIDNIGHT COWBOY, ALICE’S RESTAURANT) – Review by Pauline Kael
Butch Cassidy will probably be a hit; it has a great title, and it has star appeal for a wide audience.
In an exclusive interview, Michael Mann analyses the creation of his crime classic 'Heat': "I never thought of it as doing a genre piece.."
Meeting John Huston in Rome, where he was shooting The Bible, turned out to be easier than meeting any other director I had ever interviewed. On the set, among the giraffes and the peacocks, the lions and the Himalayan goats, I asked Huston how he made films.
In this exclusive interview, Stephen King discusses his past work, his inspirations, his attitudes toward the genre, and his future projects.
Roma, città aperta (Open City) is widely regarded as the most important film in Italian cinema history. Hence, a great deal of commentary has arisen concerning it, including a whole mythology of originality and difference.
Stanley Kubrick has topped a masterpiece with a masterpiece. A Clockwork Orange is not the best Anglo-Saxon language film of 1971, it is the best film of 1971, and there are so many masterful things in it that I hardly know where to begin.
Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey is remarkable on a number of counts. Firstly, it is perhaps the first multi-million-dollar supercolossal movie since D. W. Griffith’s Intolerance fifty years ago which can genuinely be regarded as the work of one man.
This view of the Satyricon is proof positive that the golden resources lavished on Fellini by his trusting producers can be reduced to brightly-colored but unenriching fare.
Talking with the creators of Alien (1979). Interviews with Ridley Scott (Director), Walter Hill (Producer), David Giler (Producer), Carlo Rambaldi (Creator of Alien Head Effects), Bolaji Badejo ("The Alien"), Michael Seymour (Production Designer), Ivor Powell (Associate Producer), Roger Dicken (Creator of Small Alien Forms), H.R. Giger (Alien Designer)
Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune are the stars of Hell in the Pacific, and there’s nobody else in the movie — just this American soldier and this Japanese soldier stranded on a Pacific island during the Second World War, and neither speaking a word of the other’s language.
Visually, the movie is without depth or shading, and often the compositions seem cramped; possibly the chalky, off-key look was by choice, but, if so, I'm not sure what dictated it. This is Kurosawa's first period film in color, and he has used color in an eerily unrealistic, painterly way.
2001 no less than Dr. Strangelove is an apocalyptic vision: it i is an alternate future but no less pessimistic. Beneath its austerely beautiful surface an alarm is sounded for us to examine a problem of which Dr. Strangelove was a pronounced symptom: the possibility that man is as much at the mercy of his own artifacts as ever he was of the forces of nature.
Louise Sweeney, New York-based film critic for The Christian Science Monitor, wrote a generally favorable review following the New York premiere of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Boston staff critic John Allen’s full-page review appeared in the Monitor a month later and M-G-M reprinted it as an ad in a Sunday edition of The New York Times.
Any annoyance over the ending—if indeed it is widely felt—cannot really compromise Kubrick’s epic achievement, his mastery of the techniques of screen sight and screen sound to create impact and illusion.
Sometimes the components of a picture seem miraculously right and you go to it expecting a magical interaction. That's the case with Popeye. But it comes off a little like some of the Jacques Tati comedies, where you can see the intelligence and skill that went into the gags yet you don't hear yourself laughing.
After we have seen a stewardess walk up a wall and across the ceiling early in the film, we no longer question similar amazements and accept Kubrick's new world without question. The credibility of the special effects established, we can suspend disbelief, to use a justifiable cliche, and revel in the beauty and imagination of Kubrick/Clarke's space.
As part of a police effort to suss out the workings of serial killer Buffalo Bills mind, rookie FBI Agent Clarice Starling (Foster) is assigned the task of interrogating Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lecter (Hopkins). Having extracted the information that she suffered verbal abuse from fellow prisoner Miggs (Stuart Levine) on the way in (“I can smell your cunt,” he hisses charmingly), the good Doctor turns the conversation towards fragrances of a less personal nature...
Polanski's Tess is Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles under sedation. The film has a penitential attitude toward the suffering that men inflict on women. This Tess becomes a tribute to women's dear weakness.
We Still Kill the Old Way is an unusual thriller, for it’s not about a big heist or a cute gang of thieves and it doesn’t ingratiate itself by making things easy for the hero or the audience.
I think If . . . . will be a success, but I think it’s far from a masterpiece, and I should like to make this distinction, because so many people are beginning to treat “youth” as the ultimate judge — as a collective Tolstoyan clean old peasant.
CLASS AND ALLEGORY IN CONTEMPORARY MASS CULTURE: ‘DOG DAY AFTERNOON’ AS A POLITICAL FILM – by Fredric Jameson
Dog Day Afternoon seems to have a great deal more overt political content than we would normally expect to find in a Hollywood production.
Far from showing an ignorance of horror, as King asserts, the film shows Kubrick's depth of knowledge of film form and its possibilities.
Hurricane Marlon is sweeping the country, and I wish it were more than hot air. A tornado of praise—cover stories and huzzahs—blasts out the news that Brando is giving a marvelous performance as Don Corleone in The Godfather, the lapsed Great Actor has regained himself, and so on. As a Brando-watcher for almost 30 years, I’d like to agree.
Spartacus ha il pregio di inserire una voce autentica nella grande produzione di Hollywood e dunque di incidere sul gusto di milioni di spettatori e di dimostrare che incassi ed impegno d’arte non sono per forza in contraddizione fra loro.
With 2001, we learned the real depth and mass of space, and discovered that “The Ultimate Trip” was going to be a cold, lonely one—an adventure more daunting to the psyche than the body.
Jean-Luc Godard intended to give the public what it wanted. His next film was going to be about a girl and a gun—”A sure-fire story which will sell a lot of tickets.” And so, like Henry James’ hero in The Next Time he proceeded to make a work of art that sold fewer tickets than ever. What was to be a simple commercial movie about a robbery became Band of Outsiders.
POLTERGEIST (1982): HOOPER’S VISION & SPIELBERG’S CHARM CREATE A GREAT GHOST STORY – Review by Kyle Counts
Spielberg, as co-author/producer (and some say director), has tempered Hooper’s harsh, visceral style with folksy humor and near-bloodless titillation, while Hooper has underscored Spielberg's conservative, child-at-play consciousness with dark touches of Grand Guignol.
The Deer Hunter is a brilliant epic about the simple things of life. To its director Michael Cimino they are 'friendship, courage, dignity, grace' and through them the movie's Vietnam veterans turn into Homeric heroes. Chris Auty pays his respects, but wonders if this catalogue of rituals hasn't tried to make time stand still.
Something ominous has been going on since The Deer Hunter first made its appearance, and especially since it won an Academy Award: Certain activist groups, in an unfortunate misunderstanding of the film, have protested it as a kind of racist document that, as a New York Post article summarized it, “ . . . contrasts the innocence of American GIs . . . with the savage Vietnamese enemy they meet on the battlefield.”
Kubrick’s original plan was to open 2001 with a ten-minute prologue (35mm film, black and white) — edited interviews on extraterrestrial possibilities with experts on space, theology, chemistry, biology, astronomy. Kubrick says that he decided after the first screening of 2001 for M-G-M executives, in Culver City, California, that it wasn’t a good idea to open 2001 with a prologue, and it was eliminated immediately.
The popular and critical success of Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven (1992) has prompted a number of discussions about the status of the Western, Eastwood’s cinematic persona, and the currency of each in a changing cultural landscape. An accepted critical reading of the film that has already emerged suggests that it revises the Western genre.
Ingmar Bergman—the Swedish creator of The Seventh Seal—long ago abandoned his interest in the mysterious ties between God and man in favor of a broader humanism. His latest film, Cries and Whispers, confronts the realities of the human condition—man’s destiny on "the dark, dirty earth under an empty, cruel Heaven.” Now Bergman seeks his answers in the workings of the human heart alone.
Director Benjamin Ross, whose debut feature is The Young Poisoner’s Handbook, celebrates the drama of failure in Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon
With Frenzy, its director, Alfred Hitchcock, is said to have returned to form, but to what form has he returned? To a resounding orchestral accompaniment, so different from the anxiety-producing music with which Bernard Herrmann contributed so much to Vertigo and Psycho, we move from a panoramic view of the city of London to a Thames-side gathering at which a politician's speech about progress against the river’s pollution is interrupted by the discovery of a floating corpse.
The aging Hitchcock's accomplishment in Frenzy is astonishing, coming after his poor-quality Torn Curtain. This sense of nationality always gave his English work a pungency and a warm swiftness.
In Ingmar Bergman’s latest film, Cries and Whispers, the predominant tones are red, and from the very beginning of its production he did not hesitate to explain why this is so. He had a dream, he said, and in the dream he saw a group of women dressed in white, whispering together in a room bathed completely in red.
We are happy to report, for the benefit of science-fiction buffs—who have long felt that, at its best, science fiction is a splendid medium for conveying the poetry and wonder of science—that there will soon be a movie for them. We have this from none other than the two authors of the movie, which is to be called Journey Beyond the Stars—Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke.
Luis Buñuel's brilliant new comedy, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie), is so free in form and yet so lucid and wise that it could give the Surrealists a whole new lease on life.
By setting his film in the surreal world of dreaming, Buñuel casts himself as a jester rather than as an Old Testament prophet, crying "Woe, woe." Awake, this assemblage might have been too much for the old man’s equanimity; while they sleep, it is enough that he skip about them, poking them keenly with his rattle.
The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie is a cosmic vaudeville show —an Old Master’s mischief. Now seventy-two, Luis Bunuel is no longer savage about the hypocrisy and the inanity of the privileged classes. They don’t change, and since they have become a persistent bad joke to him, he has grown almost fond of their follies—the way one can grow fond of the snarls and the silliness of vicious pets.
I suspect that James Dickey, who adapted his best-selling novel Deliverance for the screen, and John Boorman, who directed it, are trying to tell us something fairly important by subjecting four sober, settled, middle-class gentlemen in their thirties to a series of wilderness trials that test their courage and cunning in a manner we usually associate with the initiation of adolescents into primitive tribes.
Deliverance, which James Dickey adapted from his own best-selling novel, is one of those rare films that resonates like a literary work but that —rarer still—avoids either being or sounding literary.
FROM DOMESTIC NIGHTMARES TO THE NIGHTMARE OF HISTORY. UNCANNY ERUPTIONS OF VIOLENCE IN KING’S AND KUBRICK’S VERSIONS OF ‘THE SHINING’
The impact of past violence on the present is examined in the novel and film versions of The Shining. John Lutz’s essay pinpoints in these works three interrelated elements of what Freud called the “uncanny”—the domestic abuse story, “the postcolonial narrative of American expansion at the expense of nonwhite victims, and the desire for power and control that underlies commodification and the social hierarchies that reinforce it.”
Il presente contributo di Giorgio Cremonini è inserito nel numero monografico intitolato "Quel che resta nella cornice", dedicato alla descrizione di alcune tra le più suggestive inquadrature della storia del cinema.
ADAPTATION OF AN AUTEUR: TRUFFAUT’S JULES ET JIM (1961) FROM THE NOVEL BY HENRI-PIERRE ROCHÉ – by Stuart Y. McDougal
In 1956, François Truffaut was browsing in a Paris bookstore when his eyes fell on a copy of Jules et Jim by Henri-Pierre Roché. He was immediately drawn to the title and, as he studied the jacket, intrigued to discover that it was a septuagenarian's first novel. At the time Truffaut was twenty-four and supporting himself by writing film criticism for Cahiers du Cinéma and Arts. He purchased the novel, took it home, and pored over it until, like a character in Fahrenheit 451, he knew it by heart.
Jules and Jim is not only one of the most beautiful films ever made, and the greatest motion picture of recent years, it is also, viewed as a work of art, exquisitely and impeccably moral.
As an actor, Eastwood never lets down his guard. His idea of being a real man is that it’s something you have to pretend to be—as Sergio Leone put it, he’s wearing a suit of armor. This actor has made a career out of his terror of expressiveness. Now here he is playing a stiff, a ghost. It’s perfect casting, but he doesn’t have the daring to let go and have fun with it. Even as a ghost, he’s armored.
What keeps Back to the Future from being a comedy classic is that its eye is on the market. Despite Zemeckis and Gale’s wit in devising intricate structures that keep blowing fuses, the thinking here is cramped and conventional. I wish that moviemakers and their designers would stop using old Life magazines for their images of the American past.
The Five-O Interview James B. Harris: When Kubrick and I finished Paths Of Glory, Marlon Brando called us up and said I want to make pictures with you guys. I've seen "The james b. harrisKilling" and now Paths Of Glory and I think we should be in business. Let's plan [...]
Although a number of critics in the popular press laud Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction for its non-linear narrative, quirky performances, and oddly resonant dialogue regarding such issues as hamburgers, television pilot episodes, and foot massages, critics in other circles deride Tarantino’s creation for its extreme violence and lack of moral clarity.
by Gavin Smith Gavin Smith: What was it that drew you to the GoodFellas material? Martin Scorsese: I read a review of the book; basically it said, "This is really the way it must he." So I got the book in galleys and started really enjoying it because of the [...]
Scorsese's technique of "freezing” objects generates a particular method of cinematic exposition in which characters and objects are portrayed in a moment between movement and non-movement; this “moment” is the bridge between potential behavior and stasis. The "thing” is frozen or suspended on the screen, and the possibility of either stasis or experience emerges from this momentary suspension.
Doll and Faller assert that Ridley Scott's film, Blade Runner, exhibits elements of two distinct pulp genres, film noir and science fiction. The genre cross-pollination is a reflection of Philip K. Dick's novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, upon which the movie is based.
This article presents a case study of the filmmaker Stanley Kubrick, considering how his films can be considered an emotional response to the Holocaust, the legacy of European anti-Semitism, and stereotypes of the Jewish American woman.
It was a bit startling to pick up an English newspaper and see that the review of Victim was entitled “Ten-letter word”—but as it turned out. The Observer was referring not to Lenny Bruce’s much publicized hyphenated word but to the simple term “homosexual,” which it appears is startling enough in a movie to make the Johnson office refuse to give Victim a seal of approval.
The audiences at popular American movies seem to want heroes they can look up to; the audiences at art houses seem to want heroes they can look down on. Does this mean that as we become more educated, we no longer believe in the possibilities of heroism?
La Storia, diceva ancora Baudrillard, è uno scenario rétro, è un “cadavere” che si può mettere in scena, un "fossile” che può essere rappresentato e “simulato”. «La Storia fa così il suo ingresso trionfale nel cinema a titolo postumo». Baudrillard notava come questa riapparizione della Storia non avesse un valore di presa di coscienza, ma di nostalgia di un referente perduto.
The more an artist is worried by the problem of how his picture will be perceived by the public, what the critics will say, how the "authorities" will look on it, the greater the danger that the artist will deviate from the truth, and from his original conception, and the further he will be from the search for truth in art and from the sensitive questions of his time. And, as a result, the less will be the social impact of his film.
Che Kubrick conoscesse Freud è fuor di dubbio; lo si ricava da tutta la sua opera, ma basterebbe anche solo quell’accenno al Perturbante che il regista lascia cadere nell’intervista con Michel Ciment, a proposito del film The Shining: «Nel suo scritto sul perturbante Freud affermò che il perturbante costituisce l’unica sensazione che si provi con maggior forza sia nell’arte che nella vita»
Accattone lives as a work of narrow but intense vision—a film about viciousness and criminality that evokes compassion. Its style is neorealist: it was made on locations, not in studios, with nonprofessional performers. Sometimes this method makes merely vernacular films, but it gives Accattone a grainy, gripping authenticity.
Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey took five years and $10 million to make, and it’s easy to see where the time and the money have gone. It’s less easy to understand how, for five years, Kubrick managed to concentrate on his ingenuity and ignore his talent.
The above headline is taken from Dr. David Reuben’s book Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex but Were Afraid To Ask, a waggish tome now turned into a cockeyed and sometimes insanely funny film of the same name, written and directed by Woody Allen.
The Godfather II is a sequel to a film whose narrative drive and choreographed violence made it one of the better genre films of recent years. It is colder, more severe, less violent and much more ambitious than the original The Godfather.
The circumstances accompanying the 1977 American release of Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom were almost as unusual as those depicted in this, the final film of Italian director Pier Paolo Pasolini. Advance word in Film Comment, Film Quarterly and particularly The Village Voice indicated that Salo features extremes of sadism, violence and scatology then unheard of in a major picture, and the publicity mills were scarcely hampered by the fact that Pasolini himself had been brutally murdered on November 2, 1975 - nearly six months after his film’s completion.
Articolo commemorativo di Nazzareno D’Errico su Pier Paolo Pasolini «cristiano e marxista», apparso nel numero di novembre del 1976 del mensile illustrato «Historia»
Marlon Brando enjoys being mysterious. The grandfather of all cool actors becomes the Godfather. Interview by Shana Alexander
The Witch of the Waste transforms Sophie Hatter from a teen into a 90-year-old woman. To break the spell, Sophie must journey in search of Howl’s Moving Castle.
For the first time, Studio Ghibli has collaborated with an outside animator, Michaël Dudok de Wit, and his breathtaking The Red Turtle proves a worthy heir to this Ghibli tradition
Hiromasa Yonebayashi’s When Marnie Was There transposes a classic of English children’s literature to modern-day Japan to tell the tale of an orphan discovering the dark secrets of her past, in what might well be the last in-house feature from the great animation house Studio Ghibli
Despite the absence of the kind of imaginative spectacle or battle sequences that galvanised Spirited Away (2001) and Princess Mononoke (1997), When Marnie Was There is expertly atmospheric. Its action is all contained within its emotional ebb and flow, as fierce as the tides that lap at Marsh House.
There’s nothing fun or funny to be found here. It offers us only the absorption of good acting and good storytelling combined with a plausible anthropology of a strange, terribly relevant culture. What more could we possibly want from a movie? How often, these days, do we get anything like all that?
And then there was Marion Brando, against all the odds, cast in one of filmdom’s juiciest roles, as mob chief Don Vito Corleone. He was eased in, despite stiff opposition from the studio brass, because of the advocacy of a thirtyish fan, Francis Ford Coppola, an Italian-American who happened to be the director of The Godfather. Once he got the part, Brando in turn helped Coppola maintain camaraderie during the frenzied three-month shooting by kibitzing with the cast and establishing a fatherly relationship.
THE GODFATHER PLAYS ON OUR SECRET ADMIRATION FOR MEN WHO GET WHAT THEY WANT – by Arthur Schlesinger Jr. [Vogue]
Inflation does not always assure survival. My guess is that three years from now we will still remember scenes from Raoul Walsh’s The Roaring Twenties (1939) while The Godfather will have become a vague memory.
The Godfather is, furthermore, and by critical consensus, a stunning confirmation of my claims for Coppola's talents: vividly seen, richly detailed, throbbing with incident and a profusion of strikingly drawn characters
Interviews with screenwriters Hampton Fancher and David Peoples, industrial designer Syd Mead, production designer Lawrence C. Paull and director Ridley Scott. Articles & Interviews by Randy & Jean-Marc Lofficier for Starlog magazine, November 1992 issue.
Kevin Costner ha deciso di debuttare nella regia scegliendo un genere sempre meno frequentato come il western e con un film, accolto molto positivamente tanto dalla critica che dal pubblico, che è un vero e proprio atto d'amore nei confronti della cultura indiana.
Paul Schrader is one of the seminal figures of the contemporary American cinema. His success is attributable to the creative use of his critical faculty and a commercial deployment of his Calvinism. The result is a body of work that is a bracing commentary on classic and modern Hollywood, and whose bleak vision would make film noir look like musical comedy.
Blasphemy is by no means dead in Britain, as the recent condemnation of Gay News, for publishing a poem portraying Christ as homosexual, reveals. But The Life of Brian has nothing about it as shocking to the faithful as this, and is saved indeed from blasphemy by its sheer vulgarity.
Escape from Alcatraz opens with the camera panning across San Francisco Bay and the bridge, and then to the grim, gloomy island of Alcatraz. The first sequence, as the credits come up, shows the arrival, through rain and darkness, of a prisoner for the "Rock": it is shot in tight, constricted close- up and mostly in shadow.
Studying Freud and other early psychoanalysts can lead to a better understanding of children and consequently to appreciating the effects of some of Disney’s works. Freud’s concept of the mind’s structure can be useful in explaining the appeal of Disney’s characters because many of them (Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy and others) embody universal aspects of the personality: id, ego and superego.
In Taxi Driver, New York City is a steaming, polluted cesspool and Travis Bickle’s cab a drifting bathysphere from which he can peer at the “garbage and trash” which obsess him: whores, pimps, junkies, wandering maniacs, maggotty streets, random violence.
Since propaganda, whether blatant or subtle, and whether “left” or “right,” works primarily through the emotions and not the intellect, it is not necessarily the explicit or easily recognizable elements of a film that produce the strongest effect on the consciousness of the viewer. Such is the case with a film like The French Connection. The explicit values are evident. The film is exquisitely made.
Per molti versi, il film più «erotico» di Kubrick è 'Il dr. Stranamore' (1963) (girato anch’esso in Inghilterra), che segna la fine della collaborazione con Harris (il quale vuol passare alla regia ed esordirà due anni dopo con 'Stato d'allarme', film che sembra essere la risposta «realistica» a Stranamore).
Che Kubrick punti molto di più sull’ossessione in sé che sul suo oggetto (Lolita), è dimostrato già dal principale spostamento operato rispetto al romanzo: l’insediamento all’inizio della sequenza dell’uccisione di Quilty, che vedremo ripetuta in coda (come è nel romanzo).
Ridley Scott's film "Blade Runner" is rooted in the myths and legends of Western culture and draws on a number of genres including film noir and science fiction. Central to the plot, though, is the Genesis story of the creation and fall. Gravett examines the religious subtext of the film, and discusses Deckard and Roy Batty's relationship in terms of the biblical story of Jacob and Esau.
Lontano dal cinema di formule e procedimenti a cui rimanda soltanto per la sua mole produttiva, Barry Lyndon si situa in quella zona dove il cinema è invenzione, ricerca, esperimento. Ma dove tutti, coraggiosamente e confusamente, cercano, Stanley Kubrick trova. Non domanda, risponde.
On two soundstages at the Burbank Studios, 30.000 square feet are given over to a replica of the fifth door newsroom of The Washington Post. Alan Pakula, the director of the film version of 'All the President's Men', had wanted to use the actual newsroom, but the Post’s editors fretted that this would interfere with the paper’s day-to-day operations.
Close Encounters of the Third Kind is the most innocent of all technological-marvel movies, and one of the most satisfying. This film has retained some of the wonder and bafflement we feel when we first go into a planetarium: we ooh and aah at the vastness, and at the beauty of the mystery. The film doesn’t overawe us, though, because it has a child’s playfulness and love of surprises.
Bertolucci is trying to transcend the audience appeal of his lyrical, psychological films. He is trying to make a people’s film by drawing on the mythology of movies, as if it were a collective memory. 1900 is a romantic moviegoer's vision of the class struggle—a love poem for the movies as well as for the life of those who live communally on the land.
Angst-dark primary colors—reds and blues so intense they’re nearpsychedelic, yet grimy, rotting in the thick, muggy atmosphere. Cities that blur into each other. Characters as figures in cityscapes or as exiles in rooms that are insistently not home. And, under it all, morbid, premonitory music.
The Taviani brothers have learned to fuse political commitment and artistic commitment into stylized passion. Their film Padre Padrone has the beauty of anger that is channelled and disciplined without losing intensity.
An extraordinarily well-made new thriller gets the audience sky-high and keeps it up there—The French Connection, directed by William Friedkin, which is one of the most “New York” of all the recent New York movies.
Dan Georgakas argues that even in those films that are more sympathetic to Indians there are fundamental distortions of Native American culture and continuing negative Hollywood stereotypes.
The picture is horrifying yet somber, and the barrage of sounds coming from all directions intensifies the pressure—we can’t escape the clanging metal or the footsteps or Jerry Goldsmith’s score, which is on top of it all.
«Credevo fosse un’avventura. E invece era la vita... » (J. Conrad) ... Riprendendo questa frase nel corso di un’intervista, Sergio Leone si riferiva al tempo trascorso da quando ebbe l’idea di trarre un film dal libro di Harry Grey A mano armata a quando, finalmente il film è riuscito a farlo
Eighty thousand years ago, on broad primeval plains, Naoh (Everett McGill), the bravest warrior of the spear-carrying Ulam tribe, and two fellow-warriors, Amoukar (Ron Perlman) and Gaw (Nameer El-Kadi), are sent out on the sacred mission of finding fire and bringing it back to the Ulam.
The movie may be in the worst imaginable taste—that is, an utterly unfeeling movie about miracles—but it's also the biggest recruiting poster the Catholic Church has had since the sunnier days of Going My Way and The Bells of St. Mary's.
While audiences have long exhibited a penchant for movies about the future, few people expected today's science-fiction generation to go wild over a film set 80,000 years in the past. Yet that's what has happened with Quest for Fire, an ambitious work that portrays primitive man's attempts to understand and harness the elements around him.
The domestication of fire was the key development that separated hominids from the rest of the animal kingdom, enabled them to live in hostile environments and spurred the development of language and agriculture. Through this brilliant exercise in backward extrapolation, we get a glimpse of what it might have been like, 80,00 years ago.
We each began by deconstructing King’s novel separately, reducing it to essential scenes, comparing our lists of scenes, and winnowing them down to a hundred or so. I tore bits of exposition and dialogue out of a paperback copy of the novel and put them in little envelopes on which were written “# 1 The Arrival,” and so on.
Critical disappointment with Eyes Wide Shut was almost unanimous, and the complaint was always the same: not sexy. The national reviewers sounded like a bunch of middle-school kids who'd snuck in to see it and slunk out three hours later feeling horny, frustrated, and ripped off.
The best thing about Eyes Wide Shut may be its title, but anyone planning to see Stanley Kubrick's long-awaited, posthumously released swan song is advised to go with their eyes open.
Boorman doesn't bother with episodes that don't stir him; there’s no dull connective tissue. The film is like Flaubert’s more exotic fantasies—one lush, enraptured scene after another.
Coppola’s "heart of darkness," like Conrad’s, is a triumph of style over story. Or rather, the description—words for Conrad, mise-en-scène for Coppola—is the story’s raison d'être.
by Michael Klein Even inept films sometimes carry with them a certain mesmerizing authority. Stanley Kubrick's Barry Lyndon, a flawed work based upon a rather uninspiring novel, can be enjoyed, for instance, for its visual effects: sheer photography. And the background music is superb.1 The music offputtingly classical under the [...]
Charlie, who represents to such an extraordinary degree the whole human race caught in its habitual rattrap, does kick off his shoes, and we are abundantly convinced of the validity of his gesture of invincibility.
The Elephant Man is a very pleasurable surprise. Though I had seen Eraserhead, which is the only other feature directed by David Lynch, and had thought him a true original, I wasn't prepared for the strength he would bring out of understatement.
Stanley Kubrick's film Barry Lyndon, spectacular as it is, flies in the face of an audience's usual expectations about "costume drama" as a cinematic form of historical fiction.
Paul Verhoeven has returned home to Holland for his latest film, Black Book, the harrowing story of a young Jewish woman who finds herself thrown by circumstance into the resistance against the Nazis, where she is asked to pose as a sexy cabaret singer in order to get close to Holland’s head of the SS
The movie works because it has the Mary Shelley story to lean on: we know that the monster will be created and will get loose. And Brooks makes a leap up as a director because, although the comedy doesn’t build, he carries the story through.
Throughout the three hours and twenty minutes of Part II, there are so many moments of epiphany — mysterious, reverberant images, such as the small Vito singing in his cell — that one scarcely has the emotional resources to deal with the experience of this film.
La Grande Illusion is a perceptive study of human needs and the subtle barriers of class among a group of prisoners and their captors during World War I.
The following interview, conducted by Larry French in preparation for his forthcoming book on the films of Roger Corman, centers around that very fruitful period in Price’s career.
Both Kubrick and King merit congratulations for making The Shining one of the most overpowering experiences of horror ever committed to celluloid. It manages to treat intangible, elusive subjects—ghosts, demons, spirits and the like—as if they were as real as this morning's headlines.
The thaw in the Soviet Union made it possible for new filmmakers, although not without difficulty, to assert their personal vision. The most striking of these was indisputably Andrei Tarkovsky, Emmanuel Carrère discusses the grandeur of Stalker.
by Pauline Kael In Tim Burton’s Edward Scissorhands, the towers and spires of a medieval castle rise high in the air right out of the end of a bare, flat suburban street. The houses and cars in the suburbs are in a comically limited palette of pastels; the dark castle [...]
Jonathan Cott interviews Federico Fellini for Rolling Stone magazine. The conversation took place in the director's office in Rome, February 1984
The interview is transcribed from taped material obtained during the shooting of Nostalghia. As well, there are excerpts from conversations that were never recorded, and a brief excerpt from their first 1962 conversation, along with a few other statements made by Tarkovsky
The conversation which follows did not take place all at once. Although I had known Federico Fellini since 1956, we had not actually sat down to discuss his filmmaking ideas and his life philosophy until a few years before his death.
Cannes, 1960. El jurado del Festival, influido por Georges Simenon, otorga la Palma de Oro a La Dolce Vita, de Fellini. Es el comienzo de una amistad por correspondencia que llegará a su momento culminante en 1977, cuando escritor y cineasta por fin se encuentran en persona y mantienen la siguiente entrevista después del estreno de Casanova.
Nel febbraio 1966, il regista già autore de La Strada, La Dolce Vita e 8½, dopo aver finito di girare Giulietta degli Spiriti - e dopo un paio di settimane per far “raffreddare il cervello" - incontra due inviati di Playboy, tra la spiaggia di Fregene e Roma, per parlare di cinema. E della sua visione personale su sesso e amore
In this review of Raiders of the Lost Ark, Tom Milne dismisses Spielberg's classic as dross. In a scathing review he objects to the film's many flaws, including its 'simple-mindedness' and its reliance on 'limp clichés'.
On Friday July 14 2000, Morgan Freeman was interviewed by Richard Jobson in front of a packed audience in London's National Film Theatre. The event followed a screening of his latest movie, the taut psychological thriller Under Suspicion, in which he stars with Gene Hackman
by Richard T. Jameson Early in 1967. United Artists undertook a massive publicity campaign to sell the country on a recent acquisition that had broken box-office records in its native Italy and might, just might do the same in the States. After all, its inspiration was American—what more American than [...]
Buñuel attacks the Church as the perverter and frustrater of man—the power trying to hold down sexuality, animality, irrationality, man’s “instinctual nature.’’
In rewriting the Vietnam defeat, Rambo attempts to solve the contradiction posed by its portrayal of the Vietnam vet as powerless victim and suprematist warrior by reviving the powerful American mythos of a “regeneration through violence.”
Dr. Strangelove developed in us an embryonic skepticism for what was beginning to be called the "military establishment," and it fostered a growing skepticism about authority everywhere.
The movie—Costner’s debut as a director—is childishly naïve. When Lieutenant Dunbar is alone with his pet wolf, he’s like Robinson Crusoe on Mars. When he tries to get to know the Sioux, and he and they are feeling each other out, it’s like a sci-fi film that has the hero trying to communicate with an alien race.
The author reviews two film adaptations of science fiction novels, 'Clockwork Orange,' by Anthony Burgess and 'Slaughterhouse-Five,' by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
This excruciatingly violent, three-hour Viet Nam saga demolishes the moral and ideological cliches of an era: it shoves the audience into hell and leaves it stranded without a map.
The Deer Hunter has done what The Green Berets could not do more than a decade ago: it has moved audiences to actively root for the American military fighting the Vietnam war.
Look who's back with a new movie: The Deer Hunter made Michael Cimino a winner, but his next film was the legendary failure Heaven's Gate. With Desperate Hours, the stakes have never been higher.
“Look, the film is not realistic — it's surrealistic. Even the landscape is surreal. For example, the little steel town we called Clairton is composed of eight different towns in four states. You can't find that town anywhere — it doesn't exist. And time is compressed.
For all its pretensions to something newer and better, this film is only an extension of the old Hollywood war-movie lie. The enemy is still bestial and stupid, and no match for our purity and heroism; only we no longer wipe up the floor with him—rather, we litter it with his guts.
Dopo vent’anni di carriera Woody Allen incontra per la prima volta, a Parigi, i giornalisti dei Cahiers du cinéma, la rivista simbolo del cinema francese Ecco un’intervista che parla di film, di metodo, di indipendenza e di spettatori
"The Conversation" was very ambitious, and I hung in not because it was going right, but because I couldn't accept within myself the judgment that I couldn't succeed in doing it. It's a funny thing, but I just couldn't let the project go."
by Andrew Sarris I It came over the car radio while I was driving out to wintry, stormy Long Island for the Memorial Day weekend. The Conversation had won the Grand Prize at Cannes, The Sugarland Express had been singled out for its screenplay, and Jack Nicholson had been named [...]
I am convinced that The Godfather could have been a more profound film if Coppola had shown more interest (and perhaps more courage) in those sections of the book which treated crime as an extension of capitalism and as the sine qua non of showbiz.
The key of the brilliant comic tone of the film is in the title. What makes the picture so funny, terrifying and horribly believable is that everyone in the film really has learned to stop worrying, as smokers do about lung cancer after living with the statistics for a bit.
What is particularly striking about the film, once we get over the sight of Marlon Brando performing anal sex, is that it is, in disguise, the most political of Bertolucci’s films so far—his most ambitious attempt to integrate Marx and Freud.
Last Tango in Paris is an important film because of the way it deals with film history. By showing the inadequacy of and parodying two recent influential film styles, 1950s Hollywood and French New Wave, Bertolucci critiques and condemns the outmoded ideas and attitudes which informed these styles.
In this review of Last Tango in Paris, Norman Mailer offers an extensive critique of Bertolucci’s film on the basis of Marlon Brando’s compromised acting.
“To me, making a film is like resolving conflicts between light and dark, cold and warmth, blue and orange or other contrasting colors. There should be a sense of energy, or change of movement. A sense that time is going on — light becomes night, which reverts to morning. Life becomes death."
Some people want to call this art in the postmodern age, but no matter how inflated with esteem Lynch becomes, his art isn’t so great that it transcends political reading or vicious, regressive, conservative meaning.
Imagine The Wizard of Oz with an oversexed witch, gun-toting Munchkins. and love ballads from Elvis Presley, and you’ll get some idea of this erotic hellzapoppin from writer-director David Lynch.
Quiet. Calm. Intense. Concerned. Experienced. Each word is a valid description of Harry Dean Stanton. Many who have seen his seemingly effortless performance as "Brett" in Alien might be surprised to learn the breadth of his career and the depth of his abilities.
The movie is a disgrace: an ugly, incoherent, dishonest piece of work. The original picture, directed by a skillful journeyman, J. Lee Thompson, is memorable without being especially artful.
Pasolini’s recent death, apparently stemming from an episode that might have figured in one of de Sade’s stories, brings to an end a career that deeply influenced Italian literature (he was also a poet and novelist), linguistic thought, and film.
Tullio Kezich recensisce "Per un pugno di dollari", primo capitolo della "trilogia del dollaro" di Sergio Leone. Articolo pubblicato sulla rivista 'Bianco e Nero'
The conversation took place in 1964 between Pasolini and the students and faculty of the Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia—the Italian film-school in Rome
Both in what it shows and in what is absent from it, Blade Runner (1982) deviates in morally significant ways from the 1968 novel by Dick on which it is based.
Tarkovsky is the Soviet director responsible for two masterpieces of SF film: Solaris (1972), based on the book of the same title by Lem, and Stalker (1980), adapted from the Strugatsky brothers’ Roadside Picnic.
One of the big questions in Blade Runner is "What does it mean to be Human?" John W. Whitehead has a look at this and related questions in Blade Runner couched in a view of the postmodern world.
Podcast TIFF Long Take interviews the iconic comedian, actor and filmmaker Louis C.K. to discuss his latest film I Love You, Daddy and what it means to be an artist today.
by Charles Thomas Samuels Rome, July 29, 1969 The living room of Antonioni's apartment, where this interview took place, reflects intellectual restlessness rather than a desire for comfort. Except for a plush couch, the room is sparely furnished, yet everywhere there are books, records, a wild array of bric-a-brac. One [...]
by Susan Sontag Here are the films discussed in the below essay: Les Anges du Peché (The Angels of Sin) Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne (The Ladies of the Park) Le Journal d’un Curé de Campagne (The Diary of a Country Priest) Un Condamné à Mort s’est Échappé (A [...]
Much of the humor in David Lynch’s reworked fifties crime thriller/horror/gothic film Blue Velvet comes from mundane statements which, when filtered by his personal vision, appear weird, but still oddly familiar.
When you come out of the theatre after seeing David Lynch’s Blue Velvet, you certainly know that you've seen something. You wouldn’t mistake frames from Blue Velvet for frames from any other movie. It’s an anomaly—the work of a genius naif.
by Flo Leibowitz and Lynn Jeffress To all appearances, The Shining is simply a hopelessly clichéd gothic horror film. Can this be serious? A lonely house on a hill haunted by ancestral ghosts that curse successive generations and force them to re-enact the original horror. It is not even redeemed [...]
The last formal interview Stanley Kubrick gave was in London in 1987 as part of the publicity campaign for "Full Metal Jacket". By Tim Cahill of Rolling Stone magazine
by Pauline Kael There is a brief passage in Ingmar Bergman's Persona - Bibi Andersson tells about a day and night of sex - that is so much more erotic than all of Ulysses that it demonstrates what can be done on the screen with told material. We do not [...]
by Eugene Archer Critics have always debated the correct way to apportion the credit for a multi-million-dollar production among producers, writers, actors and corps of technicians, but Stanley Kubrick, the youthful director of Spartacus, has no such doubts. If any critical bouquets are available after the elaborate costume spectacle opens [...]
EPIC FILMS ANCIENT AND MODERN A week of epics. It is true that neither Spartacus (Gaumont) nor The Guns of Navarone (Regal) conform to Bible thumping traditions but as both last for over three hours, including intermissions for the audience to recuperate on orange squash, and are littered with stars, [...]
by Lloyd Rose PINEWOOD GREEN, ENGLAND – The board room at Pinewood Studios is disturbingly baroque. The ceiling sags with chandeliers. Gilt-edged paneling dresses every inch of wall. At one end a cold-eyed movie mogul, the late J. Arthur Rank, grins from his painted portrait. It hangs above a sideboard [...]
by James Kerans All the Fellini virtues are here: the fluent camera, the wit, the elegant composition, the theme-and-variations style, the melange of theatrical and religious symbol, the parabolic eloquence, the vocabulary of private motifs. La Strada is more exciting, because it calls for the management of material more coarse, [...]
by Bosley Crowther Old age has never been a topic of particular interest to makers of films for a very obvious reason: It is not one that particularly appeals to the vast majority of moviegoers, not even to those who are old. Age, at best, is a condition that merely [...]
by Bosley Crowther The vast attention that Bernardo Bertolucci’s Last Tango in Paris received while it was several months in the making and when it opened in the fall of 1972 was not due to the prospect of its being a likely worldshaking film. It was because Marlon Brando was [...]
by Gerard Fay Stanley Kubrick is unusual among American film directors for a complete lack of flamboyance. He dresses without distinction, talks quietly and modestly, eats and drinks frugally, reads and thinks a lot. He is not an Austrian or even an Hungarian but was born in the Bronx, New [...]
by Jean-Andre Fieschi Original article: ‘Néo-néo-réalisme’, Cahiers du Cinéma 141, March 1963 No one could be more pleased than we are that American cinema has on the whole won the war that history said it had to win (and not just by winning over the critics). We don't deny that [...]
by Don Daniels Stanley Kubrick's films seem to provoke the kind of mindless praise and attack that is called 'controversy' these days. In the case of A Clockwork Orange, the responses have ranged from 'brilliant' to 'boring', with special attention to the film's depictions of violence. If the viewer responds [...]
"When the legend becomes fact," says the canny newspaper editor in John Ford's The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, "print the legend." Sam Peckinpah is a filmmaker dedicated to telling truths and still preserving the legend of the American West. In feature films (Ride the High Country, Major Dundee) and [...]
by Pauline Kael A friend of mine who’s in his early fifties and is eminent in his field says that when he grows up he wants to be Sean Connery. He doesn’t mean the smooth operator James Bond; he means the bluff, bare-domed Connery of The Man Who Would Be [...]
by Pauline Kael At the end of The Godfather Part II (1974), the story was complete—beautifully complete. Francis Ford Coppola knew it, and for over a decade he resisted Paramount’s pleas for another sequel. But the studio’s blandishments became more honeyed, his piggy bank was smashed, and late in 1988 [...]
by Pauline Kael Martin Scorsese’s GoodFellas has a lift. It’s like Raging Bull, except that it’s not domineering. It’s like Raging Bull made in a jolly, festive frame of mind. It’s about being a guy and guys getting high on being a guy. In the Nicholas Pileggi book Wiseguy, which [...]
by Michael Dempsey In director Ridley Scott’s $30-million noir thriller, Blade Runner, set in Los Angeles 36 years from now, sophisticated new robots known as “replicants” have drastically narrowed the gap between humans and machines. Prize creations of the cadaverous, ironic Dr. Eldon Tyrell and his superconglomerate, they not only [...]
“The grotesque,” which became a stylistic term in the Italian renaissance and later contributed significantly to all forms of modernist art, can help us better understand the so-called “coldness” often attributed to Stanley Kubrick’s films
by Richard Schickel FIRST PARADOX: Barry Lyndon, a story of an 18th century Irish gentleman-rogue, is the first novel of a great 19th century writer, William Makepeace Thackeray. It shows early signs of a genius that would nourish only after creative struggle and personal adversity. In time, this forgotten book [...]
A tragedy of false security by Richard Schickel The film looks as if it had been photographed through the mists of time. Often its characters seem to move with the strange deliberation of figures in a dreamed memory, their outlines softened by the years. Yet its images, its language (and [...]
Kubrick's Barry Lyndon is a lot more than a substitute for an allbutforgotten tale. The movie also translates the printed page into art for the eye and the ear by coordinating the story with the paintings, music and landscaping of the period
by Caran Wakefield Pablo Ferraro’s original commercial for Doctor Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb teases the audience, offering a sample of the gutsy black humor and subversive political satire that made the film famous. The trailer commences with an atomic explosion, and quickly [...]
After nearly thirty years, then, of playing one character in one set of clothes, Chaplin takes on a double role. The subject of the film is thus new to him, or shall we say it is a new and advanced branch of his old subject, the dictatorship of the powerful and cruel over the humble and the dispossessed?