2013

5/19/13 I watched Dave Grohl's Sound City.  In this his directorial debut, Grohl reveals himself as adept storyteller and comfortable behind the controls of a vast amount of cinema's stylistic toolkit.  The story possesses that raison d'etre at the heart of most great docs.  Some of the music at the film's heart does not fully do it for me, but I think Grohl's film falters most as he works to weave subtext and a larger frame around the story.  It's a very entertaining doc that would have hit harder with a little more suggestion and a little less exposition.

Favorite (four), part nineteen

Just like my other eighteen posts in this series, I want to take a second to single out the highlights of my recent film viewing.  Most of the films I have been glad to finally see, but only very few have stayed with me. This series is my filter for those (and hopefully one or two will be good to someone else, too).

Jerry Schatzberg's Scarecrow

Zsigmond gives it great space and brings a real strength to much of the framing.  Its assets - its looseness, authenticity, and the freewheeling nature Schatzberg is able to capture quite often - leave its engine running a little cold at times.  But there's a Pialat depth and a heaviness of feeling that more than make for any lack of narrative drive.  When people start talking about the great character studies the American cinema produced in the seventies, I would comfortably and certainly throw this one into the mix. 

Alexander Mackendrick's The Man in the White Suit

A great little film I never knew much about.  Alec Guinness is wonderful as the vulnerable scientist.  And Mackendrick keeps things suspenseful, fun, and heartfelt.  One of those films that will be great fun to watch for years to come.  

Frank Borzage's The Mortal Storm

Sure it may be an extremely well-made film that makes you think more than it makes you feel.  But it is also frightening and communicates the horrors of fascism as well as anything I have ever seen.  Borzage's film seems like it might have been one of the main things Tarantino saw as he put Inglourious Basterds together.  Featuring some terrific set pieces (like IB), Borzage builds suspense by working through the characters rather than through music or any other cinematic manipulation.  Borzage who was known for his melodrama impresses here with an extraordinary sense of restraint.

Kathryn Bigelow's Zero Dark Thirty

I was quite impressed by the filmmaking which I found incredibly complex yet elegant and modern.  Bigelow maintains some increasingly rare sensibilities - a noticeable respect for framing, film as negative, and camera movement more as dance than prizefight.  I feel it only falters from greatness in its final act, becoming questionably plausible on certain major plot points and pretty lazy with certain emotional ambitions.  And although I am in the minority, I like Chastain's look but continue to question the depth of her abilities. 

My Top 10 (or so) Films for 2012

I watched fewer films this year than I have in a really long time.  Other life took the lead.  And I have always watched more older stuff, wanting to fill in the gaps, but this year I saw almost no new releases.

I still though had a few moments of incredibly satisfying discovery and wanted to share.  It's my hope that a few of these will be good to you, too.


Raoul Walsh's The Man I Love (1947)

An extremely interesting noir, with a backbone that's as dark as can be even if devoid of any on-screen shootings, murders, or remotely graphic violence.  The mood is foggy, and Walsh's great tool here is restraint.   You feel the atmosphere building, at any moment ready to fall apart. The people are trapped, the outlook somber, and the effect all the more effective with no real catharsis ever offered.



Samuel Fuller's Park Row (1952)

A wound up, wonderful example of the physical cinema we've come to expect from Fuller.  It's abundantly clear this is a personal project for Sam.  He uses his camera like a weapon, thrusting it through spaces and spewing bile on all who stand in his way.



Manoel de Oliveira's The Strange Case of Angelica (2010)

My first experience with a de Oliveira film so I can't frame it alongside the rest of his work.  But what I can say is I found it masterful - one of these late films by a great filmmaker that is deceptively simple (think Gertrud) where the formal simplicity belies a specificity and depth that are the true signs of greatness.  Most shocking to me was the vitality of the editing, always cutting away seconds earlier than expected, to produce a level of restraint so vital to the heavyweight feeling the film ends up producing.  I could go on and on about the brilliance of metaphor here, de Oliveira's wonderful visual tics, and a cinema that is as mannered as Hartley's but as weighty as Dreyer's, but I'll wait to elaborate on those things until I have the pleasure of seeing a few more from this great Portuguese filmmaker.



Martin Scorsese's No Direction Home (2005)

This should go down as one of the greatest of all Scorsese films and the single best doc on Dylan (Pennebaker, sorry).  It's moving, incredibly cinematic, and captures the great one at his absolute, creative peak.



Andre de Toth's Day of the Outlaw (1959)

Raw, dark, and artful - there's something absolutely uncompromising about De Toth's work here.  The tone almost makes you think you're watching a horror film, but the pacing and cinematography feel straight out of an European art film.  One of the most unique westerns I have ever seen and simply a key work of any genre.



Michael Curtiz's The Breaking Point (1950)

So many things at once - a family melodrama, an action-adventure flick, a noir of reckless abandon, and a great film.  Curtiz shoots it with such a wonderful sense of invention, every shot a little off and angular, immediately creating an atmosphere of complete unpredictability.  With a third act that can be felt strongly in Taxi Driver and so many cylinders firing, it's a complete mystery to me why this one doesn't come up more during discussions of the great noirs.



Michael Powell's The Edge of the World (1937)

Perhaps the greatest of all films are those haunted by either life or death.  In this case, there's a cloud hovering over every moment suggesting the latter and a vitality in every frame leaning more towards the former.  Either way, this earthy, hefty film is among my favorite of Powell's work.



Tim Irwin's We Jam Econo - The Story of the Minutemen (2005)

Great doc in just how intimate and close it puts you to the band. About as satisfying a portrait of a group as I have seen on film - between the long, un-cut performance footage to the fly-on-the-wall hang-outs with the band.


Howard Hawks' The Crowd Roars (1932)

An early Hawks film I have been wanting to see for the longest time, I was finally able to catch up with it on TCM.  Already in 1932, Hawks proves himself adept at filming action, and there is a scene or two I would rank with the very greatest ever filmed by Hawks. The long sequence that begins with Cagney arriving at Indianapolis and ends with him at the diner illustrates the unique greatness Hawks possessed as storyteller. With just simple, direct, and fluid brush strokes, Hawks arrives at truth.  Profound, very human, and with all that is immaterial left behind.


King Vidor's Stella Dallas (1937)

I'll admit I'm a sucker for these types of weepies, and it doesn't hurt that Vidor was a real master.  Here he impresses by being so unafraid and uninhibited as he lingers in some VERY dark, uncomfortable places (like that hyper-disturbing scene at the soda shop).  Melodrama like we really don't see anymore and one of the better of its kind.

spinning, currently

been catching up on a bunch of older music of late.  here's a snapshot of my last few hauls:

the b-52s - s/t
the blue nile - hats
the slits - cut
patti smith - horses
public image ltd. - public image
the jam - all mod cons
david bowie - low
iggy pop - the idiot
roxy music - s/t
the pretenders - s/t
mark hollis - s/t
the kinks - face to face
suicide - s/t
the who - sell out
the jam - sound affects
john lennon/plastic ono band
lou reed - transformer
richard hell and the voidoids - blank generation
mc5 - kick out the jams
velvet underground & nico
talking heads - fear of music
the go-betweens - 16 lovers lane
t. rex - electric warrior

Favorite (four), part eighteen

Just like my other seventeen posts in this series, I want to take a second to single out the highlights of my recent film viewing.  Most I have been glad to finally see, but only very few have stayed with me. This series is my filter for those (and hopefully one or two will be good to someone else, too).

Michael Curtiz's The Breaking Point

So many things at once - a family melodrama, an action-adventure flick, a noir of reckless abandon, and a great film.  Curtiz shoots it with such a wonderful sense of invention, every shot, a little off and angular, immediately creating an atmosphere of complete unpredictability.  A third act that can be felt strongly in Taxi Driver and just a complete mystery to me as to why this film doesn't come up more during discussions of the great noirs.

Asif Kapadia's Senna

The footage makes this one pretty extraordinary at times, and it's the way that Kapadia choreographs the races that really shows his talents as an entertainer but also as a storyteller that knows how to trim the fat. By the end, there are moments I wish the filmmakers had chosen not to telegraph, but all in all, a very enjoyable doc about a subject matter of which I knew little to nothing.  

Michael Powell's The Edge of the World

Perhaps the greatest of all films are those haunted by either life or death.  In this case, there's a cloud hovering over every moment that suggests the latter but a vitality in every frame that leans more towards the former.  Either way, this earthy, hefty work is among Powell's very best.

Tim Irwin's We Jam Econo - The Story of the Minutemen

Great doc in just how intimate and up close it puts you with the band. About as satisfying a portrait of a group as any I have ever seen on film - between the long, un-cut performance footage to the informal dialogue with the band.

2012

10/19/12 I watched Ice-T's Something from Nothing: The Art of Rap.  There are some good interviews in there - Q-Tip, Chuck D, Eminem, Doug E Fresh, Dr. Dre, among others.  But a bit repetitive and far less than what it could be on this tremendous subject.  

12/1/12 I watched Leos Carax's Holy Motors.  As it began, I thought, "Wow Carax has just made the next Mulholland Dr, combining his unique sensibility into something that throws down the gauntlet for all auteurs moving forward."  As it wore on though I began feeling yet again that Carax was letting his desire to provoke outweigh his rare and gargantuan talents for unlocking cinema's capabilities for beatuy and lyricism.  Provided a good amount to think about but very few, if any answers.  And left me thinking, rather than moved, which in Carax's case, just leaves me feeling sad more than anything. 

1/13/13 I watched Kathryn Bigelow's Zero Dark Thirty.  I was quite impressed by the filmmaking which I found incredibly complex yet elegant and modern while maintaining a noticeable respect for framing, film as negative, and camera movement more as dance than prizefight.  I feel it only falters from greatness in its final act, becoming questionably plausible on certain major plot points and cheap with certain emotional ambitions.  I like Chastain's look but continue to doubt the depth of her abilities. 

2/2/13 I watched David O Russell's Silver Linings Playbook.  I am in the minority clearly on this one, but I felt more bullied and forced into feeling than anything.  I didn't care for its look, I really had issue with its editing, I liked Cooper more than I expected and Lawrence less.  A style that felt heavy, not fresh, and overall quite underwhelming for me.  
3/1/13 I watched Ben Affleck's Argo.  An amazing story is at the source of Affleck's third feature.  It is lazy and cheap at times, some of the final pat moments.  But Affleck's ability to keep the procedural wound tight and the clock ticking earn points in my book.  Desplat's score is of little interest and Prieto's camerawork services but certainly does not emote with any noteworthy impressiveness.  A film that is entertaining, even visceral at times, but lacking of much artistry and depth. 

5/20/13 I watched Malik Bendjelloul's Searching for Sugar Man.  An incredible story is at the heart of the doc, and at times, it almost seems so incredulous I was waiting for the movie's great rabbit to come out.  Rodriguez's outlook on his life is probably the most affecting ingredient of all.  I just wish the filmmakers spent more time talking to other American musicians and delving into the mystery of how someone this talented got completely lost and buried in the shuffle.  

Favorite (four), part seventeen

Just like my other sixteen posts in this series, I want to take a second to single out the highlights of my recent film viewing.  Most I have been glad to finally see, but only very few have stayed with me. This series is my filter for those (and hopefully one or two will be good to someone else, too).

Martin Scorsese's My Voyage to Italy

An incredibly thorough look at Neorealism and the Italian cinema that has so profoundly influenced Scorsese.  Special focus goes to Rossellini, but De Sica, Visconti, Fellini, and Antonioni also receive insightful commentary.  A great introduction to anyone just beginning to look into this, one of cinema's greatest moments.

Raoul Walsh's The Man I Love

An extremely interesting noir, with a backbone that's as dark as can be, yet devoid of any on-screen shootings, murders, or highly realized violence.  The mood is foggy, and Walsh's great tool here is restraint. You feel the atmosphere building and at any moment ready to fall apart. People are trapped, the outlook somber, and the effect all the more effective as no real catharsis is ever offered.

Samuel Fuller's Park Row

A wound up, wonderful example of the physical cinema we've come to associate with Fuller.  It's clear this is a personal project for Sam as he uses his camera like a weapon thrusting it through spaces and spewing bile on all who stand in his way.  One of the truly great Fuller films.  

Tony Silver's Style Wars

If you grew up with hip-hop like I did, this is one of the great documents of the era.  I first stumbled upon it while reading an interview with Michael Rapaport around the release of his Tribe Called Quest doc.  It's a remarkably intimate look at the scene that would, just a year later, receive narrative treatment in the form of Beat Street and Breakin'. Special mention to the lost gem unspooling over the end credits, Rammellzee and K-Rob's Beat Bop.

Favorite (four), part sixteen

Just like my other fifteen posts in this series, I want to take a second to single out the highlights of my recent film viewing.  Most I have been glad to finally see, but only very few have stayed with me. This series is my filter for those (and hopefully one or two will be good to someone else, too).

Manoel de Oliveira's The Strange Case of Angelica
My first experience with a de Oliveira film so I can't frame it alongside the rest of his work.  But what I can say is that I found it masterful - one of these late films by a great filmmaker that is deceptively simple (think Gertrud) where the formal simplicity belies a specificity and depth that are the true signs of greatness.  Most shocking to me was the vitality of the editing, always cutting away seconds earlier than expected, to produce a level of restraint so vital to the heavyweight feeling the film ends up producing for the viewer.  I could go on and on about the brilliance of metaphor here, de Oliveira's wonderful visual tics, and a cinema that is as mannered as Hartley's but as weighty as Dreyer's, but I'll wait to elaborate on those things until I have the pleasure of seeing a few more from this great Portuguese filmmaker.


Martin Scorsese's No Direction Home

This should go down as one of the greatest of all Scorsese films and the single best doc on Dylan.  It's moving, incredibly cinematic, and really captures the great one at his absolute, creative peak.  


Fred Niblo's The Mysterious Lady
I can keep it simple here.  Garbo is sexy personified in this very inventive and entertaining early work.  Want to understand the mystique around Garbo - this is a great place to start.


Andre de Toth's Day of the Outlaw

Raw, dark, and artful, there's something absolutely uncompromising about De Toth's work here.  The tone almost makes you think you're watching a horror film, but the pacing and cinematography feel straight out of a European art film.  One of the most unique westerns I have ever seen and simply a key work of any genre.

My Top 10 (or so) Films for 2011

I spent the last year watching some older stuff, filling in a few gaps, and catching up on films I had always wanted to see.  Here's what I came up with -- my list, the several hands full that reminded me of why I continue chasing cinema past:

Michelangelo Antonioni's The Passenger (1975)

Antonioni's incredible talents are all over -- his meticulous framing, his daring yet languid camerawork, and his feel for spaces that the medium somehow forgot to cover.  Slow and cerebral like all his work, The Passenger separates itself from the rest of A's films with its summer exteriors and rustic locations.  It's simply one of the cinema's truly great road movies.

Robert Altman's Thieves Like Us (1974)

The most sexually-charged of the Altman pics I've seen, and certainly one of the most interesting.  Feels like a pet project, extremely unconventional stylistically just like McCabe.  And strange as it may seem on paper, a precursor to Michael Mann's free-form stylings on Collateral, Miami Vice, and Public Enemies.  

Corneliu Porumboiu's Police, Adjective (2009)

The new Romanian cinema has gotten much acclaim of late, and after seeing 4 Months... and this film it's easy to see why.  What's so striking is its fresh naturalism, running in such a different direction from cinema's other reigning naturalist champ, the Dardenne brothers. Unlike the handheld close-ups populating the work of the Belgian brothers, Porumbiou keeps the camera fixed and in wide frames.  He also favors long takes in a way that we rarely, if ever, see in the work of the Dardennes.  Other than the final ten minutes, I'd have no hesitation declaring it one of the greatest of recent films, and a full-blown masterpiece.   

Jacques Tourneur's Canyon Passage (1946)

First, I have to thank the great Peter Lenihan for placing this gem on my radar.  What a western it is.  It has the psychological complexity of the Anthony Mann westerns, and already in 1946 feels like it's ripping the genre apart.  But it's not cold and clinical like the Mann films. Tourneur's camera's always moving, and there's a tremendous vitality in every single shot.  Brings to mind another Tourneur favorite of mine, Stars in My Crown.  And makes yet another strong argument for Tourneur's place in the highest of all pantheons.  

Sam Peckinpah's Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (1973)

A loose, mournful western from one of the late masters.  Peckinpah meanders, ponders loyalty and lost ideals, and delivers what might be the most personal of all his works.  The loss of a lifestyle, the onset of civilization, and a western about not fitting in, that doesn't really fit into anything that's come before or since. 

Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life (2011)

Malick is looking at different ways for cinema to work.  And although his connection to nature may not jump off the screen like it did in The Thin Red Line, his incredibly specific memories of childhood allow him to wash connections over us.  He does it in very short brush strokes, and as he swims through his own fleeting images, we see so much of ourselves. His work with the children is simply extraordinary.  And I think his style really gains with many of the jump cuts remaining in the tool box this time. Full of narrative courage and exploration (the first time the animated sequences break the narrative it seems as though a whole new prototype for story is being offered), and a work of tremendous ambition.  I think there are flaws.  Sometimes his elliptical wanderings go too far and end up feeling more elusive than illuminating.  And after seeing the film twice, I'm still not convinced he wouldn't have benefitted from a stronger actress than Chastain.  But it's a dense film, inviting discussion and multiple visits.  


Hirokazu Koreeda's Still Walking (2008)

The third of the director's films I've seen, and he continues to rank among my favorite of all the contemporary Asian filmmakers. Koreeda's undeniably a humanist, and as his with other two films, there are moments that carry a tremendous amount of power.  Not perfect, I particularly found a little fault with the saccharine nature of some of the score.  But all in all a memorable effort from one of the few directors still carrying Ozu's torch.  

Werner Herzog's Fitzcarraldo (1982)

Part of that unique genre, the "extreme film", along with works such as Apocalypse Now and Sorcerer.  These films all show filmmakers willing to travel to dangerous lengths to paint unprecedented canvases and test their own abilities as storytellers and dream purveyors. Herzog's film might feel slightly disjointed at times.  But the scope at which he is working and the heart that drives both him and Fitzcarraldo allow the film to rise memorably above any shortcomings.  A classic of the genre, and probably about as personal as Herzog's work can ever be.  

Wim Wenders' Tokyo-Ga (1985)

An exploration that almost feels like a Godard or Marker essay.  An unorthodox, somewhat meandering doc that seems essential viewing for any fan of Ozu's work.  Wenders mourns cinema's loss of one of its most special practitioners using Ozu's favorite city, Tokyo, to look at how the world has changed since his passing.  Wenders also memorably spends time with some of Ozu's closest collaborators.  

Charles Ferguson's Inside Job (2010)

A powerful and utterly disturbing portrait of the events that led to 2008's global recession.  Ferguson explains some of the chief causes in a very lucid manner and presents a very passionate attack on America's financial services industry.  Whether or not you agree with all that he has to say, this is a must-see, if for nothing else, the opportunity to get a further look at many of the chief players.  

Roberto Rossellini's The Rise of Louis XIV (1966)

The first of Rossellini's historical dramas that I've seen, and admittedly it takes awhile to get used to his later style.  But it snakes its way around, accumulating historical import, and by the end, finds its emotional highpoint.  Another transcendent and powerful work by one of cinema's most unusual and rigorous stylists.   

Maurice Pialat's La Gueule Ouverte (1974)

Pialat only made ten features, and this is the eighth that I've seen.  It's the one time he collaborated with the masterful cameraman, Nestor Almendros, and the partnership lends immeasurable poetry and lyricism to Pialat's heavy, uncompromising cinema.  I think it's my favorite Pialat, and with its final shot one of the great closing shots in all of cinema, a nice way to end 2011.

Favorite (four), part fifteen

Just like in my other fourteen posts thus far in this series, I want to take a second to single out the highlights of my recent film viewing.  Most have been first-time viewings, and most I have been glad to finally see. But only very few have stayed with me.  This series is my filter for those (and hopefully one or two will be good to someone else, too).

Maurice Pialat's La gueule ouverte
Who is Maurice Pialat and what makes him special as a filmmaker? Some have called him the French Cassavetes.  But I think that tag is a bit misleading.  Pialat, like Bresson, was a painter first before trying his hand at film, and his work is much more visually striking than that of Cassavetes.  Where their paths converge is in their raw approach, lack of music, and predilection for loose, extremely natural performances. Pialat only made ten features in his career, and this is the eighth that I have seen.  It's the one time he collaborated with the masterful cameraman, Nestor Almendros, and the partnership lends poetry and lyricism to Pialat's heavy, uncompromising cinema.  I think this is one of (if not) the strongest film(s) of Pialat that I have seen.  And I hardly ever throw the word out there, but I think it's a masterpiece.

Yasujiro Ozu's Early Summer
Ozu mixes up the approach a little, adding more music than usual and quite a number of incredibly expressive tracking shots.  The cumulative effect though is about the same as I have to come expect with Ozu's cinema - piercing and majestic as anything the cinema has ever produced.  Feeling rattled or a bit adrift, I would think anyone coming in with the right amount of patience would leave Ozu's cinema (this work definitely included), reminded of the lyrical beauty of life.  Ozu has gotten short shrift when it comes to a reputation as something austere and wholly cerebral.  There's a nice playfulness at times with this one, as well as a real lively spirit.  


Michael Rapaport's Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest
My four years of college could really be distilled down to two or three albums, one of which is Tribe's Midnight Marauders.  Rapaport does a great job of shedding some light on Tribe -- their creative process, inner friction, and tremendous importance within the history of hip-hop. Rapaport takes us through a wide range of emotions.  And even when the filmmaking might be a little generic, Tribe's music playing in the background reminds us of how many incredible and lasting tunes this wonderful group left to us.  A great trip back to the late eighties and early nineties, and arguably to the only great artistic movement I've lived through so far.  

Tsai Ming-liang's I Don't Want to Sleep Alone

Tsai's cinema is remarkably consistent from film to film, thematically, rhythmically, and formally.  No one does loneliness and modern alienation, post-Antonioni, as well as Tsai.  And there's a repressed sexuality about his work that's as strong in its charge as anything in Lynch, Cronenberg, or anyone else's work.

La Nouvelle Vague - #1

My favorite moment in the history of film so far has to be La Nouvelle Vague, roughly the period from 1958-1962 when a group of young French cinephiles took their passion and redefined what was possible for the medium.  I'd like to make this the beginning of a new series of posts, in the future also covering Italian Neorealism, the American New Wave, and perhaps even the German or Iranian New Wave.
 
The purpose, highlight the must-see films of the "movement".  If you see gaps or have suggestions, I'd love to hear from you.  It's tricky because a good number of the key works of the Nouvelle Vague are still hard to find stateside.  Here goes:

*Une histoire d'eau - Francois Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard (1958)
Le Beau Serge - Claude Chabrol (1958)
*Operation 'Beton' - Jean-Luc Godard (1958)
*Une vie - Alexandre Astruc (1958)
*Blue jeans - Jacques Rozier (1958)
*Moi, un noir - Jean Rouch (1958)
Les amants - Louis Malle (1958)
The 400 Blows - Francois Truffaut (1959)
Les Cousins - Claude Chabrol (1959)
*Tous les garcons s'appellent Patrick - Jean-Luc Godard (1959)
*La tete contre les murs - Georges Franju (1959)
A double tour - Claude Chabrol (1959)
*Le signe du lion - Eric Rohmer (1959)
Hiroshima Mon Amour - Alain Resnais (1959)
Breathless - Jean-Luc Godard (1960)
Shoot the Piano Player - Francois Truffaut (1960)
*L'eau a la bouche - Jacques Doniol-Valcroze (1960)
Les bonnes femmes - Claude Chabrol (1960)
Eyes Without a Face - Georges Franju (1960)
*Les godelureax - Claude Chabrol (1961)
Lola - Jacques Demy (1961)
Last Year at Marienbad - Alain Resnais (1961)
*La pyramide humaine - Jean Rouch (1961)
*Chronique d'un ete - Jean Rouch (1961)
*La proie pour l'ombre - Alexandre Astruc (1961)
Paris nous appartient - Jacques Rivette (1961)
Une femme est une femme - Jean-Luc Godard (1961)
*Ce soir ou jamais - Michel Deville (1961)
*Description d'un combat - Chris Marker (1961)
*Bonne chance, Charlie - Jean-Louis Richard (1962)
*La punition - Jean Rouch (1962)
Jules and Jim - Francois Truffaut (1962)
*Adieu Philippine - Jacques Rozier (1962)
Vivre Sa Vie - Jean-Luc Godard (1962)
Cleo de 5 a 7 - Agnes Varda (1962)
*Adorable menteuse - Michel Deville (1962)
Antoine et Colette - Francois Truffaut (1962)

*The ones I have marked are ones I still need to see myself.

September 13-October 13

The Last Lullaby, starring Tom Sizemore and Sasha Alexander, released on Netflix, iTunes, Amazon, and in a multitude of other places, exactly a month ago today!  Thank you all for your incredible support; it's been an amazingly gratifying first month.

Why I love Pandora

Don't get me wrong.  I still love to listen to a great album (i.e. Paul's Boutique, Bringing It All Back Home, Maxinquaye) from start to finish. And there are times, in this fragmented world, where I think it's important to throw something cohesive on to glue everything back together for a moment.

But I also love the randomness of the Pandora experience.  Here was my morning listening experience, as I logged onto my Radiohead station. These four songs in a row (can find them all on YouTube):

Mazzy Star - Into Dust
Thomas Newman - Any Other Name
Placebo - Hang On To Your IQ
Bill Withers - Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

Contemporary Film Noir -- My Top Fifteen

My first feature, The Last Lullaby, just released on DVD on Netflix, iTunes, Amazon, and in a bunch of other places.  It's a hybrid of genres, probably, but it's also probably a film noir.  So to mark this big occasion for the film, I thought I would throw out a list of my personal favorites from the contemporary noir period (I started it, as many people do, after 1958.) 


Pierrot Le Fou
Shoot the Piano Player
Blue Velvet
Mulholland Dr. 
Techine's Thieves
Fargo
Straight Time
King of New York
Chinatown
Heat
The Killing of a Chinese Bookie
Night Moves
Blow Out
Carlito's Way
Godard's Breathless

Film Noir -- My Top Ten

My first feature, The Last Lullaby, just released on DVD on Netflix, iTunes, Amazon, and in a bunch of other places.  It's a hybrid of genres, probably, but it's also probably a film noir.  So to mark this big occasion for the film, I thought I would throw out a list of my personal favorites from the classic noir period (I cut it off, as many people do, at 1958.)

Criss Cross
The Big Heat
Out of the Past
Night and the City
Grisbi
In a Lonely Place
The Killers
The Killing
The Set-Up
Pickup on South Street