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Armond White's History of The World, Part I

New York Press film critic Armond White chats at great length with Steven Boone at Big Media Vandal. Most movie reviewers, White avers, “take the stance of the status quo. They like to keep things as they are, because they personally benefit from things as they are. That’s what I see.” Boone asks, does White have to compromise? “Well, put it this way: I don’t work for The New York Times. They don’t want what I do. I have to work for a place that wants what I do. It’s not about compromise. It’s really about if a publisher or publication wants what you do. The New York Times knows what its doing when it hires people as film critics. It hires people who will present The New York Times agenda. And there is one. They don’t hire people because they’re great writers, great thinkers or great critics. They hire people who will fit with their program… You read it and tell me what their program is. They don’t want someone who knows their stuff. They don’t want what I do.” Boone interjects, But you’ve written for The New York Times! “Not a lot. You can count the times I’ve been published in The New York Times on one hand… Never on film. That door is closed to me… Well, I love writing about [film and music alike]. But film is a very powerful industry. To write about film somehow you seem to address something that almost everybody is interested in, that everybody takes personally in some way. So to write about film is really a very powerful privilege. The New York Times understands that. They make sure that nobody’s going to write about film who doesn’t agree with the editorial board. I’m talking about The New York Times, the paper of record, but its worth realizing that its not— It’s not the authority. It’s just a powerful organ, but it’s worth knowing that it’s not an authority and not the highest critical thinking. It seems like I’m picking on the people at the Times, but that was the truth before they got there. It remains the truth.” And what of Sidney Lumet? “Well, with Lumet, his only gift is that he can keep an actor in focus as he says his dialogue, simple as that. He doesn’t know how to shoot the scene, does not know how to compose a shot– never has. Not in any interesting way. But he certainly knows how to keep actors in focus as they say their dialogue. He’s been plying that trade for 40 years. He’s not a filmmaker. He’s still directing live TV. Ever see his film of Long Day’s Journey Into Night? Great film because it’s a great play with a great cast. He kept his camera focused on those great actors saying that great dialogue. That’s it.” Boone says, “I don’t disagree with your assessment that Lumet’s work feels like live television from the ’50s, but guess what? Live television from the ’50s, to me, if not ideal, is more cinematic in rhythm than what we’re seeing today.” White: “No it’s not. And don’t ever say that again. [laughs] Live television in the fifties is live television. It’s not cinema. Lumet cuts on dialogue, Steve! He cuts on dialogue! There’s no breathing in a Sidney Lumet film because he doesn’t use the rhythms which which people communicate. He cuts on commas and periods.” [Much, much more at the link, running beyond 6,000 words.]

NSFW trailer: Harold And Kumar 2 (2008)

Snow day

Richard Beymer's "Twin Peaks" photographs

David Lynch on the set of “Twin Peaks”. [Full gallery here.]

Thelma Schoonmaker's take on CGI vs. Michael Powell-era effects

Oscar-winning film editor Thelma Schoonmaker “criticised modern blockbusters for relying too heavily on computer-generated imagery,” reports Kent News. Schoonmaker’s “late husband, the Kent-born director Michael Powell, was a great influence on Scorsese… During a lecture at Canterbury Christ Church University, Miss Schoonmaker spoke nostalgically about the early days of British cinema. The Algerian-born 67-year-old reminisced about how innovation and creativity, rather than computers, were once used to produce special effects to keep filmgoers glued to their seats. Modern films that use CGI to create breathtaking scenes and film sequences “do not have as much heart as they had” in the days of Powell and Pressburger, said Miss Schoonmaker. Pressburger was Powell’s long-time collaborator. As co-producers, writers and directors, they were known as The Archers. The duo made A Canterbury Tale in 1944 and Schoonmaker demonstrated how brave direction and editing decisions, such as the use of stills as the background for scenes shot in the cathedral, are still used today. “They make you believe it. [But] CGI is too perfect,” she said.”During her lecture, in a university building dedicated to the memory of her husband, she talked about the editing techniques used by early British film-makers and how they continue to influence noted directors such as Scorsese.” [More at the link; a video interview with Schoonmaker is here.]

Speechless # 52: Gilbert Gottfried

90 keys seconds from Atonement's epic Dunkirk sequence shot

Conserve the planet: animation from Brazil

Radioheaded out

For anyone who didn’t download Radiohead’s album, “In Rainbows,” the dedicated site goes dark December 10. It’s a lovely piece of work that will surely find its way into fine movies to come, as well as CD format in a few weeks.

Season's Greetings: the NSFW ending to Pasolini's Canterbury Tales

[As the linked item predicts, the clip was yanked by YouTube within hours; Pasolini’s smile from the end of the passage is just about the only image that isn’t gonzo.] New York magazine’s Vulture blog tempts the fates by posting a clip of the epically scatological ending to Pasolini’s Canterbury Tales (1972) as part of their summa of “The 10 Most Anti-Christian Movies Of All Time.” Here’s their precis: “Although he made what many still consider to be the quintessential Jesus movie (The Gospel According to St. Matthew, 1964), Italian Marxist homosexual poet Pier Paolo Pasolini was no fan of religious dogma, and his sex-drenched, free-form adaptation of Chaucer’s poem constantly thumbs its nose at the falsely pious. But Pasolini saves the big one for the end: The film ends with a shocking and hilarious vision of Hell in which Satan cracks open his butt cheeks and shits out streams of screaming friars. In close-up. Repeatedly. Sadly, we were unable to find this clip on YouTube, but then we realized we could put it up ourselves. Enjoy, because it won’t last long. Uh, NSFW, unless you work in Hell.”

Woody Allen? Speechless

It's all not Greek to me: the blogger's report

At November’s Thessaloniki International Film Festival, there was a spirited panel discussion of writing about film on the internet, led by Variety’s Lisa Nesselson, with myself, Ronald Bergan for the Guardian, and Greek bloggers, Ilias Fragoulis and Iosif Proimakis, as well as Athinorama film critic Christos Mitsis. My Greek’s not what it should be, but I am amused by the transcription (and retort) by one audience member of a comment I made at one point which was originally, “You know, to use a well-worn phrase, and pardon my English, but opinions are like assholes. Everybody’s got one.”

For Your Consideration: an insult to filmmakers

All the utopian fervor from tech-heads and electronics manufacturers about how digital projection will change the way movies are seen always makes me wary. The change, I fear, won’t be for the better. When the kid behind the popcorn counter is working these $150,000 pieces of always-about-to-become outdated electronic gadgetry, instead of the time-proven, mechanically driven film medium, will the image be consistent? What happens when a pixel or three or forty-four goes wrong? Today was the horror show come true, with a last-minute screening of a would-be awards contender that’s only just finished was projected to a small group of reviewers (most belonging to one awards-sanctioning body or other) went completely off the rails. Showing at one of the best-run multiplexes in the area, a key projectionist and manager were flummoxed by the D5 high-defintion copy that was provided. After forty minutes of delays and false starts, with the control panels of the player projected on screen and an arrow punching various options across the screen, the dim projection began, with only the deepest of sound effects tracks playing: no music, no dialogue. One of the projectionists stood at the doorway of the theater, gawping as the image began to artifact madly, pulsing every forty seconds or so with dozens of bursts of pixelated noise. I couldn’t bear to stay, even if the tics got ironed out: this isn’t what the filmmakers spent a year or more of their life making all the way down to the year-end wire. For your consideration… the future of exhibition in cities small and large and certainly in small towns across America. I thought it was a insult to the people who made the movie, so I left, looking forward to the first screening with 19th century technology—35mm celluloid.