Friday, April 4, 2008
Further North
This post is about a week behind schedule but here it is anyway. I had the chance to go to a sneak preview of James Snapko's new film Further North at the March screening of Fearless Filmmakers. I don't really want to review the film because I worked on the film for a little while. But Further North is one of the best films to be produced in the city in a while. It's a Coen Brothers sense of dark humor and a somewhat Fargo-esque trajectory. It's an incredibly violent film, and there were a few sound issues (but the film isn't completely done), but it comes together very nicely. It's real strength was the way it was shot, it was a beautiful film. Director James Snapko did all of the cinematography and editing as well. Anyway I didn't want this to be any sort of review since I worked on the film and I wouldn't be able to take myself seriously reviewing a film I worked on, but this was a great film that you should check out when it actually gets screened in town.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Rheinmentall/Victoria 8
On a recent trip to the MoMA4 I had the chance to see a variety of wonderful short film works (this has nothing to do with film in Minnesota, but I’m rolling with it). As anyone who reads the blog will know I find Jeremy Blake’s work very interesting and I had the chance to see Angel Dust in person, which is entrancing and odd, with it’s digital reproduction of futuristic ski lodge.
This is snow flying6
But the piece that really caught me was Rodney Graham’s “Rheinmetall/Victoria 8.” It’s really a very simple piece. It sits alone, in a room of it’s own. The film is of a German Rheinmetall typewriter, an obsolete machine. It is projected by a 1961 Victoria 8 projector, in it’s time considered to be “the Rolls Royce”1 of film projectors. The Victoria 8 is a loud hulking machine, the centerpiece of the room. The film takes in different angles of the Rheinmetall, showing in it’s entirety, then in jarring angles, revealing the inner workings of the machine, it’s subtleties, it’s precision. The room is set up in such a fashion that the Victoria is the center of attention in the room, but convention tells us that the true focus of the room should be the film, but the loud clacking and mass of the projector demand attention. Slowly snow begins to fall on the typewriter. Accumulating in odd place, piling and cascading over the edges. Coming to neat, fine point on the keys, leaving a dusting around the edges. The film oddly entrancing, it’s oddness demands an attention of it’s own. As the film progresses the dual demands for attention, and the inability to satisfy both needs births a sort of anxiety. There is a battle going on in the room. The two machines are at war with each other2. Mutually dependent3, yet at odds. Two obsolete machines, allowing each other to exist, and demanding exclusively. I don’t wish to go into the repercussions of this or anything else, just that one fact about the piece was really powerful; it was an odd sensation, the kind of disquieting anxiety and dissatisfaction that art should produce.
1I have no idea who said this, but I read it somewhere else, so I’m citing something that I have no idea the origins of. But I did it, I didn’t say, so I’m citing it, here.
2So to speak.
3Look at me.
4I have posted this on my other blog as well. Why?5
5 Because I felt like it. And it makes it look like I post more often than I do. No one reads this anyway.
This is snow flying6
But the piece that really caught me was Rodney Graham’s “Rheinmetall/Victoria 8.” It’s really a very simple piece. It sits alone, in a room of it’s own. The film is of a German Rheinmetall typewriter, an obsolete machine. It is projected by a 1961 Victoria 8 projector, in it’s time considered to be “the Rolls Royce”1 of film projectors. The Victoria 8 is a loud hulking machine, the centerpiece of the room. The film takes in different angles of the Rheinmetall, showing in it’s entirety, then in jarring angles, revealing the inner workings of the machine, it’s subtleties, it’s precision. The room is set up in such a fashion that the Victoria is the center of attention in the room, but convention tells us that the true focus of the room should be the film, but the loud clacking and mass of the projector demand attention. Slowly snow begins to fall on the typewriter. Accumulating in odd place, piling and cascading over the edges. Coming to neat, fine point on the keys, leaving a dusting around the edges. The film oddly entrancing, it’s oddness demands an attention of it’s own. As the film progresses the dual demands for attention, and the inability to satisfy both needs births a sort of anxiety. There is a battle going on in the room. The two machines are at war with each other2. Mutually dependent3, yet at odds. Two obsolete machines, allowing each other to exist, and demanding exclusively. I don’t wish to go into the repercussions of this or anything else, just that one fact about the piece was really powerful; it was an odd sensation, the kind of disquieting anxiety and dissatisfaction that art should produce.
1I have no idea who said this, but I read it somewhere else, so I’m citing something that I have no idea the origins of. But I did it, I didn’t say, so I’m citing it, here.
2So to speak.
3Look at me.
4I have posted this on my other blog as well. Why?5
5 Because I felt like it. And it makes it look like I post more often than I do. No one reads this anyway.
6 In the film. Angel Dust.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Group Home
So I haven't been posting recently, but I've got a series set up and will be publishing with more frequency...this one is long overdue...
I saw this film early in the fall, in September, an independent film called Group Home, written and directed by Minneapolis filmmaker Ted Dewberry. Now, it nearly seems silly to me to be writing about this film in January when it had it's one-time-only screening in September, but I've been thinking about the film lately and I think that it's entirely appropriate, and timely, so eat it.
As I said, it was only screened once, and as far as I've been informed it will not be screened again anytime soon, so you'll probably never see it. I was turned on to it by two actors whom I'd previously worked with, both of which were involved in the project. I was vaguely intrigued. It's that odd brand of intrigue, the kind I feel when I'm invited to partake in something that isn't universal, something that is very esoteric and has a limited appeal. I didn't expect much, which is never a good stance to take when you know people involved. But as I was working one evening, a couple days before the screening, the Mr. Dewberry stopped in to the coffee shop, where I slave to pay the rent, to hang up a poster for the film. I mentioned to him that I knew a couple of people in the film and was thinking of going to the film. Now Ted Dewberry has made films before, but I think it's important to note that he is not a major figure even on a local scale, but he was incredibly friendly and willing to chat for a little while. I could immediately tell that he was a passionate man, the film was a labor of love, as they say. But more on this point later.
Now, I'd like to be kind, but to be honest with you the film is terrible. It has redeeming qualities, there were some great lines, and some humorous moments, and it certainly showed a desire to push the boundaries of comedy and what you can expect from a low-budget independent comedy. But it never really comes together. I won't spend time intricately picking the film apart, suffice to say that it wasn't very good and it likely will not be screened again. (though there was a decent attendance)
What is important here is what this film stands for. Though it wasn't that great, it was inspirational in it's own way. It was a reminder of why I'm passionate about art, and why I love film. Film isn't a standard art form, it's intricate. you can go into classic debates about authorship, but let's be honest, at some level a film has an author. But there is not author, especially on an independent film, without a host of people who are willing to devote
themselves (often for nothing in return) to see the fruition of this vision. As I talked with Mr. Dewberry at the cafe he told me how he essentially funded the whole thing himself, and how he'd been working on it for years, how he did almost all of the technical work and found a cast of dedicated actors (almost all of whom play two different roles in the film) who put in the time to make a feature film on a limited budget and tight schedule. It's rare that, as a viewer, not a reviewer or a participant, or even someone with a close friend involved, you get to truly see the passion of art, to partake in that one moment when everything comes together - the work is largely done and all that's left is to stop and appreciate all of the work that is left in the wake of vision.
The film has stuck with me, not because of brilliant plot, masterful cinematography or great performances, but because this group, particularly Mr. Dewberry, had no illusions about what had been created, he didn't pretend that this was a breakout indie film, but he had a vision and followed through because he wanted to create, to partake in the godly (whoa that's a strong word...) act of art. It was a powerful reminder of why we need to create, the stripped down human drive to create, not to be recognized (though surely that had played a role) but the need to feel that godly power of creation and to leave it behind.
I saw this film early in the fall, in September, an independent film called Group Home, written and directed by Minneapolis filmmaker Ted Dewberry. Now, it nearly seems silly to me to be writing about this film in January when it had it's one-time-only screening in September, but I've been thinking about the film lately and I think that it's entirely appropriate, and timely, so eat it.
As I said, it was only screened once, and as far as I've been informed it will not be screened again anytime soon, so you'll probably never see it. I was turned on to it by two actors whom I'd previously worked with, both of which were involved in the project. I was vaguely intrigued. It's that odd brand of intrigue, the kind I feel when I'm invited to partake in something that isn't universal, something that is very esoteric and has a limited appeal. I didn't expect much, which is never a good stance to take when you know people involved. But as I was working one evening, a couple days before the screening, the Mr. Dewberry stopped in to the coffee shop, where I slave to pay the rent, to hang up a poster for the film. I mentioned to him that I knew a couple of people in the film and was thinking of going to the film. Now Ted Dewberry has made films before, but I think it's important to note that he is not a major figure even on a local scale, but he was incredibly friendly and willing to chat for a little while. I could immediately tell that he was a passionate man, the film was a labor of love, as they say. But more on this point later.Now, I'd like to be kind, but to be honest with you the film is terrible. It has redeeming qualities, there were some great lines, and some humorous moments, and it certainly showed a desire to push the boundaries of comedy and what you can expect from a low-budget independent comedy. But it never really comes together. I won't spend time intricately picking the film apart, suffice to say that it wasn't very good and it likely will not be screened again. (though there was a decent attendance)
What is important here is what this film stands for. Though it wasn't that great, it was inspirational in it's own way. It was a reminder of why I'm passionate about art, and why I love film. Film isn't a standard art form, it's intricate. you can go into classic debates about authorship, but let's be honest, at some level a film has an author. But there is not author, especially on an independent film, without a host of people who are willing to devote themselves (often for nothing in return) to see the fruition of this vision. As I talked with Mr. Dewberry at the cafe he told me how he essentially funded the whole thing himself, and how he'd been working on it for years, how he did almost all of the technical work and found a cast of dedicated actors (almost all of whom play two different roles in the film) who put in the time to make a feature film on a limited budget and tight schedule. It's rare that, as a viewer, not a reviewer or a participant, or even someone with a close friend involved, you get to truly see the passion of art, to partake in that one moment when everything comes together - the work is largely done and all that's left is to stop and appreciate all of the work that is left in the wake of vision.
The film has stuck with me, not because of brilliant plot, masterful cinematography or great performances, but because this group, particularly Mr. Dewberry, had no illusions about what had been created, he didn't pretend that this was a breakout indie film, but he had a vision and followed through because he wanted to create, to partake in the godly (whoa that's a strong word...) act of art. It was a powerful reminder of why we need to create, the stripped down human drive to create, not to be recognized (though surely that had played a role) but the need to feel that godly power of creation and to leave it behind.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
5 reasons Total Film's top 100 Directors list is a sham
So if you haven't seen the links circulating the web to the latest (mostly meaningless) top 100 list, Total Film magazine has released a list of the top 100 directors of all time. Now, of course, a list so huge cannot possibly please everyone, but this list was assembled by people who do not like movies. There seems to be no guiding principles to the assembling of this list, more importantly, the list often forgets its title, THE BEST DIRECTORS, instead it seems more interested in star power, how often names appear in the press and box office sales (any of which could be a small factor) but they are not very concerned with the directing abilities of the chosen directors. Just, briefly, to skim a few of the blatant problems with this list:
1. Michelangelo Antonioni was not included. Of course he seems a little more in the media at the moment because of his recent death, but this is one of the great directors. You can't go including Sofia Coppola, Curtis Hansen and James Whale and then deny Antonioni. Poor decision.
-still from Antonioni's 'Blowup'-
2. D.W. Griffith at 91 and Sergei Eisenstein at 72. With the error of Antonioni I'm grateful that these people have ever seen films by Griffith and Eisenstein, but to give them so little credit for being the incredible innovators that they were is unthinkable. There is no modern cinema without these two men. Period. Somes examples of how these two don't seem to make much sense, Griffith, at #91, is beat out by Buster Keaton, at #88. Keaton is one of my favorite silent film directors, and I think, though he may not have been as funny as chaplin, he was certainly a better director than Chaplin ever was. But as Griffith and Keaton were both primarily directors of silent films (both short and feature length) saying the man who invented modern editing practices is less important than a man who continued the tradition (albeit very well) of slapstick comedy makes no sense. Sergei Eisenstein, at # 72, (the man who invented montage editing, and wrote countless essays on the uses of montage, that are still taught today) falls one place behind John Sayles, who is a great director, but is far less prolific or influential as Eisenstein...
-still from Eisenstien's 'Battleship Potemkin'-
3. Total exclusion of Italian Neo-realism. Again denying the importance of some figures in film history. No Vittorio De Sica or Roberto Rossellini. This time there is no independent film without these men. John Cassavetes would not have though that he could make a film for next to nothing without the Neo-realists. (Which we can through the early work Antonioni in here as a further denial of the neo-realists.)
This is just the tip of the iceberg, many important film movements are under-represented, I've just chosen the neo-realists for the complete exclusion. The French New-Wave is barely present, Dogme 95 is only represented by Lars Von Trier (whose placement at #86 seems a little odd, but this is subjective criticism and I'm going to avoid that as much as possible so this doesn't turn into an angry rant.) Also all movements of Asian cinema are heavily neglected, sure they've slipped in a couple of safe bets, one Indian director, three from Japan, one anime director (who is curiously high ranked)...but over-all, the movements are neglected.
-still from Rossellini's 'Open City'-
4. To further bash the Italian directors they have placed Federico Fellini at 67 (in my mind he is top ten material, but this should be subjective). The main issue here is the man made hoards of movies, countless numbers of them are still shown in cinema classes across the world and remain extremely important pieces of film art. (La Dolce Vita, 8 1/2, Nights of Cabiria, Amarcord, Roma, etc) The real jab at Fellini here is that people like Bryan Singer, Richard Linklater and John Carpenter are some of the names just ahead of him (65, 64, 63 respectively). Not that any of these directors are necessarily bad, but they certainly aren’t as important as Fellini, and Fellini never even thought about making the artistic compromises they have. (Which is a whole other debate, but is nonetheless relevant when deciding the BEST DIRECTORS EVER.)
-still from Fellini's 'La Dolce Vita'-
5. (John Cassavetes = #60, Jean-Luc Godard = # 59) = Abomination
(Hal Ashby = # 58, Brian De Palma = #54, James Cameron = #38) = Abomination
Again the Ashby, De Palma, Cameron is not all bad (though I'm not much of a fan of De Palma) they have all made some decent movies, successful at the box office, films people remember. But seriously, we are not talking sales here, or who had star power in their films, the label is "best directors." There are truly few directors who could even begin to be considered more visionary than Cassavetes or Godard. These two are rare specimen, directors who can truly be said to have changed cinema. Ashby, De Palma and Cameron are all on the Spielberg side of the best directors, which is fine, Spielberg should be ranked as high as he is, his films aren't really art, but he changed the way people see films. So did Godard and Cassavetes, De Palma hasn't changed anything. This is not a matter of taste; this is a matter of making an arbitrary list that has no sort of standard for judgment. (Godard leads me to the exclusion of Alain Resnais as well, but I'm limiting myself to 5 reasons.)
-still from Godard's 'Bande a part' (Band of Outsiders)-
This is just the beginning of my personal complaints about the list, but many of my complaints are subjective. These five reasons, I believe, are more objective complaints. A pure denial of the talent that has changed the way people go to theaters and the fashion in which people watch cinema.
I think there needs to be a new list made, with some reasonable criteria. Maybe a few more women involved too. Sofia Coppola over Jane Campion, Deepa Mehta and Maya Deren?
Other directors who maybe should have made it: Takeshi Kitano, Seijen Suzuki, Alain Resnais, Wes Anderson (though a long shot, but better and more prolific than Coppola), George Cuckor, Douglas Sirk, F.W. Murnau, Stan Brakhage, Maya Deren(though they've completely denied the existence of alternative forms of cinema besides the blockbuster, independent or classic), Jane Campion, Neil Jordan, Deepa Mehta, Vittorio De Sica, Matthew Barney, Hal Hartley(?), Roberto Rosselini, Guy Maddin, Jacques Rivette, Abbas Kiarostami and the list could continue...(anyone have any ideas?)
1. Michelangelo Antonioni was not included. Of course he seems a little more in the media at the moment because of his recent death, but this is one of the great directors. You can't go including Sofia Coppola, Curtis Hansen and James Whale and then deny Antonioni. Poor decision.
-still from Antonioni's 'Blowup'-
2. D.W. Griffith at 91 and Sergei Eisenstein at 72. With the error of Antonioni I'm grateful that these people have ever seen films by Griffith and Eisenstein, but to give them so little credit for being the incredible innovators that they were is unthinkable. There is no modern cinema without these two men. Period. Somes examples of how these two don't seem to make much sense, Griffith, at #91, is beat out by Buster Keaton, at #88. Keaton is one of my favorite silent film directors, and I think, though he may not have been as funny as chaplin, he was certainly a better director than Chaplin ever was. But as Griffith and Keaton were both primarily directors of silent films (both short and feature length) saying the man who invented modern editing practices is less important than a man who continued the tradition (albeit very well) of slapstick comedy makes no sense. Sergei Eisenstein, at # 72, (the man who invented montage editing, and wrote countless essays on the uses of montage, that are still taught today) falls one place behind John Sayles, who is a great director, but is far less prolific or influential as Eisenstein...
-still from Eisenstien's 'Battleship Potemkin'-
3. Total exclusion of Italian Neo-realism. Again denying the importance of some figures in film history. No Vittorio De Sica or Roberto Rossellini. This time there is no independent film without these men. John Cassavetes would not have though that he could make a film for next to nothing without the Neo-realists. (Which we can through the early work Antonioni in here as a further denial of the neo-realists.)
This is just the tip of the iceberg, many important film movements are under-represented, I've just chosen the neo-realists for the complete exclusion. The French New-Wave is barely present, Dogme 95 is only represented by Lars Von Trier (whose placement at #86 seems a little odd, but this is subjective criticism and I'm going to avoid that as much as possible so this doesn't turn into an angry rant.) Also all movements of Asian cinema are heavily neglected, sure they've slipped in a couple of safe bets, one Indian director, three from Japan, one anime director (who is curiously high ranked)...but over-all, the movements are neglected.
-still from Rossellini's 'Open City'-
4. To further bash the Italian directors they have placed Federico Fellini at 67 (in my mind he is top ten material, but this should be subjective). The main issue here is the man made hoards of movies, countless numbers of them are still shown in cinema classes across the world and remain extremely important pieces of film art. (La Dolce Vita, 8 1/2, Nights of Cabiria, Amarcord, Roma, etc) The real jab at Fellini here is that people like Bryan Singer, Richard Linklater and John Carpenter are some of the names just ahead of him (65, 64, 63 respectively). Not that any of these directors are necessarily bad, but they certainly aren’t as important as Fellini, and Fellini never even thought about making the artistic compromises they have. (Which is a whole other debate, but is nonetheless relevant when deciding the BEST DIRECTORS EVER.)
-still from Fellini's 'La Dolce Vita'-
5. (John Cassavetes = #60, Jean-Luc Godard = # 59) = Abomination
(Hal Ashby = # 58, Brian De Palma = #54, James Cameron = #38) = Abomination
Again the Ashby, De Palma, Cameron is not all bad (though I'm not much of a fan of De Palma) they have all made some decent movies, successful at the box office, films people remember. But seriously, we are not talking sales here, or who had star power in their films, the label is "best directors." There are truly few directors who could even begin to be considered more visionary than Cassavetes or Godard. These two are rare specimen, directors who can truly be said to have changed cinema. Ashby, De Palma and Cameron are all on the Spielberg side of the best directors, which is fine, Spielberg should be ranked as high as he is, his films aren't really art, but he changed the way people see films. So did Godard and Cassavetes, De Palma hasn't changed anything. This is not a matter of taste; this is a matter of making an arbitrary list that has no sort of standard for judgment. (Godard leads me to the exclusion of Alain Resnais as well, but I'm limiting myself to 5 reasons.)
-still from Godard's 'Bande a part' (Band of Outsiders)-
This is just the beginning of my personal complaints about the list, but many of my complaints are subjective. These five reasons, I believe, are more objective complaints. A pure denial of the talent that has changed the way people go to theaters and the fashion in which people watch cinema.
I think there needs to be a new list made, with some reasonable criteria. Maybe a few more women involved too. Sofia Coppola over Jane Campion, Deepa Mehta and Maya Deren?
Other directors who maybe should have made it: Takeshi Kitano, Seijen Suzuki, Alain Resnais, Wes Anderson (though a long shot, but better and more prolific than Coppola), George Cuckor, Douglas Sirk, F.W. Murnau, Stan Brakhage, Maya Deren(though they've completely denied the existence of alternative forms of cinema besides the blockbuster, independent or classic), Jane Campion, Neil Jordan, Deepa Mehta, Vittorio De Sica, Matthew Barney, Hal Hartley(?), Roberto Rosselini, Guy Maddin, Jacques Rivette, Abbas Kiarostami and the list could continue...(anyone have any ideas?)
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Jeremy Blake 1972-2007- part 2
Behold the Bubbles:
The man who made paintings move
Overshadowed by the death of visionary filmmakers Ingmar Bergman and Michelangelo Antonioni, Jeremy Blake’s tragic suicide earlier this month seems to have slipped under the radar of much of the filmmaking and film-going community. With the death of these two legendary directors, who worked against history and the conventions laid out before them, it begs that we examine Blake’s work and why it has not gotten furthur recognition. It should prompt, more than ever, our awareness of how important filmmakers of Blake’s candor are, without their experiments and awareness, there will be no future Bergman’s or Godard’s. Bergman and Antonioni, before they became influential, and had the ability to create anything they pleased (see Bergman’s insane soap commercials), saw things in a different way, and it wasn’t easy for the world of cinema to accept them. They were outsiders who believed in the cinema they could create. Blake was similar, perhaps a bit before his time, perhaps saw a little more outside of the box than they did, but he was certainly just as much, if not more, of an outsider. (Though he would be more easily likened to a present day Maya Deren. Ditto on seeing outside of the box.)
Blake’s, limited, catalogue of short films stands as a testament to his goal of bridging the gap between painting and cinema. His films were tasteful, lush, intriguing and beautiful. His most accessible work couldn’t bring him into the forefront of viewer’s minds, by the very type of work he was doing was never going to be a name like Bergman, but he was seen, whether viewers knew it or not. Particularly his work on Paul Thomas Anderson’s Punch Drunk Love and his music video for Beck’s “Round the Bend” created a platform from which viewers were exposed to his work, exposed to something new, irrational and completely logical. His work with Beck is so serene and conceptually synchronized that it should have gained him notoriety with music video directors like Spike Jonze and Michel Gondry. The flow of pieces like “Round the Bend,” or “1906,” is striking, it’s contrary motion of static, yet constantly resonating and dissolving images, speaks to a course of human nature that few filmmakers have ever had the capability of capturing. His work with digital photography, multiple interfaces and painting stand to be highly influential to future filmmakers who can see cinema outside of corporate movie houses, for those who see cinema on the walls of galleries, on the sides of crumbling brownstones, on crudely hung curtains in living rooms and night skies, Jeremy Blake will be a visionary they look back upon. Someone who will inspire the world’s future Deren’s, Brakhage’s, Anger’s and Blake’s.
Jeremy Blake's 'Sodium Fox'
Beck's music video "Round the Bend," directed by Jeremy Blake
A very short clip from Blake's video 1906:
Trailer for Paul Thomas Anderson's 'Punch Drunk Love' featuring pieces of Blake's color patterns for the film:
The man who made paintings move
Overshadowed by the death of visionary filmmakers Ingmar Bergman and Michelangelo Antonioni, Jeremy Blake’s tragic suicide earlier this month seems to have slipped under the radar of much of the filmmaking and film-going community. With the death of these two legendary directors, who worked against history and the conventions laid out before them, it begs that we examine Blake’s work and why it has not gotten furthur recognition. It should prompt, more than ever, our awareness of how important filmmakers of Blake’s candor are, without their experiments and awareness, there will be no future Bergman’s or Godard’s. Bergman and Antonioni, before they became influential, and had the ability to create anything they pleased (see Bergman’s insane soap commercials), saw things in a different way, and it wasn’t easy for the world of cinema to accept them. They were outsiders who believed in the cinema they could create. Blake was similar, perhaps a bit before his time, perhaps saw a little more outside of the box than they did, but he was certainly just as much, if not more, of an outsider. (Though he would be more easily likened to a present day Maya Deren. Ditto on seeing outside of the box.)
Blake’s, limited, catalogue of short films stands as a testament to his goal of bridging the gap between painting and cinema. His films were tasteful, lush, intriguing and beautiful. His most accessible work couldn’t bring him into the forefront of viewer’s minds, by the very type of work he was doing was never going to be a name like Bergman, but he was seen, whether viewers knew it or not. Particularly his work on Paul Thomas Anderson’s Punch Drunk Love and his music video for Beck’s “Round the Bend” created a platform from which viewers were exposed to his work, exposed to something new, irrational and completely logical. His work with Beck is so serene and conceptually synchronized that it should have gained him notoriety with music video directors like Spike Jonze and Michel Gondry. The flow of pieces like “Round the Bend,” or “1906,” is striking, it’s contrary motion of static, yet constantly resonating and dissolving images, speaks to a course of human nature that few filmmakers have ever had the capability of capturing. His work with digital photography, multiple interfaces and painting stand to be highly influential to future filmmakers who can see cinema outside of corporate movie houses, for those who see cinema on the walls of galleries, on the sides of crumbling brownstones, on crudely hung curtains in living rooms and night skies, Jeremy Blake will be a visionary they look back upon. Someone who will inspire the world’s future Deren’s, Brakhage’s, Anger’s and Blake’s.
Jeremy Blake's 'Sodium Fox'
Beck's music video "Round the Bend," directed by Jeremy Blake
A very short clip from Blake's video 1906:
Trailer for Paul Thomas Anderson's 'Punch Drunk Love' featuring pieces of Blake's color patterns for the film:
Friday, August 3, 2007
Cormac McCarthy to pen 'Toy Story 3'?
Has the success of the Oprah endorsed 'The Road' and the upcoming big screen debut of 'No Country for Old Men' gone to his head? I couldn't resist posting this. It's great. Click here for the article from Village Voice.
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