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Archive for the ‘Film Preservation’ Category

More Movies in 2016 To Be Shot On Film

Saturday, January 30th, 2016

More and more, filmmakers – both mainstream and indie – are returning to actual film for production.

As Ashley Lee wrote in The Hollywood Reporter on January 28, 2016 – just two days ago – “Star Wars: Episode IX will be shot on film, not digital, said [director] Colin Trevorrow . . . The director of the upcoming installment stated his case on Thursday during a Sundance Film Festival panel called ‘Power of Story: The Art of Film‘ alongside Christopher Nolan and Rachel Morrison, and moderated by Alex Ross Perry.

‘The only place where I tend to not be able to attach myself entirely to something shot digitally is when it’s a period film. There’s something in my brain that goes, “Well, they didn’t have video cameras then,” he said. “[Film] tends to remind us of our memories, of our childhoods, the way we used to see films.” Trevorrow — who shot Jurassic World on film because ‘this can’t look like two computers fighting, that’s what we kept repeating to ourselves’ — humorously noted that signing on to helm Star Wars: Episode IX ‘gets back to my issue of shooting digital for period films. I could never shoot Star Wars on anything but [film] because it’s a period film: It happened a long time ago!’ . . .

[Director Christopher] Nolan, a major advocate of the preservation of film, called to dissolve ‘this artificial industrial distinction that’s been made that shooting on video is of the future and practical and is the way forward; shooting on film is impractical and of the past. It’s simply not the case. … You just have to say they’re different.’ Trevorrow then stressed the importance of accessibility for young directors to film — ‘It gives you a respect for the shot and for the edit’ — and called on film schools to take responsibility to do so.

‘They’ve all dropped the ball on us,’ agreed Nolan. ‘They have to be shamed back into it. The idea that you charge what you charge in tuition, … A camera you could buy for half of a semester’s tuition. You’re not teaching that this is one of the choices, and you’re not teaching the discipline that the entire film industry is based on, because we still mix in reels, we still count in frames, even if we’re shooting digital. You have to understand how an Avid works. [But] to understand how all the latest technology applied to film works, you’re much better off as part of your education if you understand how film works, because that’s where it comes from. The film schools really need to gear up with that.’

Nolan recalled how he had to argue for the use of film since his Memento days, when he was told there would be no printing of dailies, until a line producer rearranged the numbers. He called studios’ application of consumer economics to large-scale productions ‘facile,’ ‘absurd’ and ‘completely untrue;’ though using a Super 8 camera is more expensive than doing so with a digital camera, film’s use in a theatrical release can be done in an economically efficient way” . . .

The Interstellar filmmaker also again applauded Quentin Tarantino’s ask to screen The Hateful Eight in 70mm, and defended him on its early tech glitches. ‘I spoke to a couple people at the screening who said, “Yeah, the DCP didn’t even look as good as the slightly wrong projection, the 70mm print beforehand.” . . . This is a filmmaker who has struggled very hard, worked very hard to really push something out there in the world to entertain people, to give them the best possible experience, and should be celebrated for that. But as soon as there’s some technical hitch, it’s as if it’s his fault, like he built the projector.’

‘I had the same experience myself on one of the IMAX films I’ve made: there had been a press screening and the digital sound had gone out of sync with the picture. Then people asked me about it. I’m like, “I’m the director, I’m on the projectionist. These things happen,” he continued. There’s a culture around wanting to kill film where by any little hitch like that — which happens all the time in the digital world — is pointed to as some kind of proof of something.” But it’s not.

Click here, or on the image above, to see the entire panel discussion, uncut.

The Films of Piero Heliczer – A Retrospective

Saturday, January 16th, 2016

On Tuesday, January 19th, EYE on Art presents an evening devoted to filmmaker and poet Piero Heliczer.

As a friend of Piero Heliczer during the 1960s in New York, I was happy to consult on this exhibition, which takes place on Tuesday at the EYE Filmmuseum in Amsterdam, Holland, where Piero spent much of his later life before his tragic early death in France. As the notes for the program by Ruth Sweeney relate, “Piero Heliczer was born in Italy in 1937. Throughout his life he gained notoriety as a poet and publisher. However, he also dedicated a lot of his time and energy to cinema and experimental filmmaking.  Wheeler Winston Dixon has described Heliczer’s film works to be ‘an important and too often forgotten part of 1960s experimental cinema.’

From a young age he was involved in the film industry; at the age of four he acted in Augusto Genina’s fascist propaganda film Bengasi which won first prize at Venice International Film Festival in 1942. It is curious that this was his first experience into the world of film; Heliczer’s mother was Jewish, from Prussia and his father, who, as member of the Resistance, was captured and killed by the Gestapo, was Italian-Polish. For the last two years of the war Heliczer and his remaining family went into hiding. Then, in 1947 he moved to the United States, where he lived for almost a decade.

In 1956 Heliczer returned to Europe. He initially resided in Paris where he began producing his own poetry and started his own small press – The Dead Language – hand-printing books and small publications, anthologies and magazines. It was during this period that Heliczer got involved with the Beat Generation; the likes of Angus Maclise, William Burroughs and Gregory Corso, to name but a few. In the early sixties he moved to England for a few years. He lived primarily in London, where he acquainted himself with the Avant-garde film scene, and then for some time in Brighton, where he made his first film with Jeff Keen, The Autumn Feast (1961).

A few years later Heliczer relocated to New York where he became involved with the Film-makers’ Cooperative and the circles surrounding Andy Warhol’s factory. He acted in Jack Smith’s Flaming Creatures (1963), and Andy Warhol’s Couch (1964). It was during this period that Heliczer made the majority of his own experimental films thus associating himself with 1960s American Experimental Cinema. Looking back on those years Heliczer spent in New York, Gerard Malanga, a friend of Piero’s and also a filmmaker and poet, describes Heliczer’s filming style as ‘free-wheeling’ and ’spontaneous.’

He says: ‘There was a definite collaborative energy present when Piero would set up a shoot and begin filming, though he was very quiet in his approach. One never knew what was happening until it was nearly over. That is, he did shoot at different angles within the one space, which was usually a rooftop above the flat where he was living at the time. In a way he just let us do our thing. There were no scripts but lots of random shooting. We just kind of stood around or moved around like we were in some kind of dance. I never recall Piero shouting out directions or outlining to us what he planned on doing.’

Heliczer was a wanderer and a traveller. He never stuck around in any one place for a long period of time and by the end of the ‘60s it seems he was tired of New York. In the ‘70s he returned once more to Europe. The German government awarded him a sum of money as an act of reparation for the murder of his father and he invested this money into a house in Normandy, where he lived until his death. In 1993 Heliczer was tragically killed in a road-accident at the age of 56. Unfortunately, despite his strong associations with notable figures, Heliczer’s films have remained relatively unknown.”

It’s only fitting that Piero should have this retrospective; click here, or on the image above, to find out more.

Frame by Frame Video: Film Noir

Thursday, January 7th, 2016

Here’s a brief Frame by Frame video, directed by Curt Bright, in which I discuss Film Noir.

The scene above is from Jacques Tourneur’s noir classic Out of the Past (1947), and in this video I briefly discuss some of the more dominant characteristics of noir, in a video which was produced roughly at the same time my book Film Noir and The Cinema of Paranoia came out. Oddly enough, I never blogged directly on this video, and it’s too good to pass up, so here it is.

When Choice: The Library Journal reviewed Film Noir and The Cinema of Paranoia, they noted that “Dixon seeks to broaden the scope and definition of film noir by focusing on its most dominant motif–paranoia. Concentrating on that impulse, and also on fear and violence, the author demonstrates that these all-encompassing aspects of film noir are found not only in gangster/detective films of the 1940s but also in such genres as science fiction and horror.

Beginning with the pre-Code era, Dixon guides the reader through a comprehensive overview of the evolution of film noir to its present form, along the way presenting an enlightening examination of American and British society and politics and revealing the role film noir has played during certain periods.

[Dixon] demonstrates how film noir serves to contradict the false “feel good” images mediated to the public through movies and television programming. [Dixon]’s observations illustrate how paranoia, as constructed through the lens of film noir, proves more relevant than ever in lieu of the veil of fear that envelops every aspect of post-9/11 life.”

And that’s still true today – noir tells us how things really are.

Video: Things to Come (1936) – H.G. Wells’ Vision of the Future

Wednesday, January 6th, 2016

H.G. Wells’ Things To Come is one of the most prophetic visions of the future ever created for the screen.

H.G. Wells wrote many novels about the possible future of mankind, all of which have been filmed in various adaptations, but he wrote only one futuristic vision with a film adaptation directly in mind; his 1933 magnum opus The Shape of Things To Come, which Wells then adapted into the screenplay for the film Things to Come in 1936.

The production designer and director of the film, William Cameron Menzies, is lately having a run on this blog, with posts on his film Invaders from Mars and James Curtis’ book William Cameron Menzies: The Shape of Films to Come, but it’s only right that this film, perhaps the only time that Menzies really had a decent budget at his disposal as a director, gets its own entry here.

The collaboration between Wells and Menzies – as well as the actors, including Raymond Massey, Sir Cedric Hardwicke, and Sir Ralph Richardson – was stormy at best, with the major stumbling block being that Wells, who had almost no visual or dramatic sensibility for the cinema, kept insisting that his long, declamatory speeches remain intact on the screen, despite Menzies’ and the cast’s insistence that judicious cuts to the material would make the end product more effective.

But Wells wouldn’t hear of it, and so there are, in truth, about thirty minutes of the film that could easily be cut – something that all the contemporary reviewers of the film readily pointed out – and Wells, disappointed with the film’s initial reception, amazingly blamed Menzies for this – but it simply isn’t so.

Despite this problem, however, Things to Come remains an astonishing film, accurately predicting the onset on World War II, for one thing, as well as such technological advances as television, space travel, enclosed cities, social breakdown bordering on feudalism in some areas, and clearly posited science as the savior of mankind.

It’s essential, of course, to see Things to Come on a big screen; it’s one of those films that calls insistently for large scale projection – and for many years, when the film fell into the Public Domain, inferior 16mm and video copies circulated from a variety of sources, none of which approached the scope and grandeur of the original film. However, in recent years, the film has come back under copyright.

Legend Films has thus brought out a superb DVD and Blu-ray of the film, completely restored, which can be seen either in its original black and white version (my choice), or in a remarkably good colorized version, supervised by the late special effects master Ray Harryhausen. So, thanks to Curt Bright, here’s a short video essay on the film as part of the Frame by Frame series, and now, you can see the film for yourself.

Don’t miss a chance to see this classic if you can; click here for a video essay on the film.

Raoul Walsh and Maritta Wolff’s The Man I Love (1947)

Wednesday, December 30th, 2015

Raoul Walsh’s hard boiled Post World War II noir is an underappreciated classic.

Seated above are Ida Lupino and Andrea King, rehearsing on a kitchen set during the filming of Raoul Walsh’s The Man I Love. The movie is based on a novel by Maritta Wolff, who, according to Wikipedia “was born on December 25, 1918 in born in Grass Lake, Jackson County, Michigan. She grew up on her grandparents’ farm and attended a one-room country school. She was a senior at the University of Michigan when she wrote a novel-length story for an English composition class that won the 1940 Avery Hopwood Award, a university prize for excellent writing, worth $1,000. Whistle Stop is a seamy tale of the Veeches, a shiftless family living in a whistle-stop town near Detroit.

The novel, depicting incest, violence, and containing much more vulgar language than was usual at the time, was published the next year by Random House. That Wolff, a mere 22-year-old, was the author of so hard-boiled a novel gave her an instant notoriety, and Whistle Stop became an immediate best-seller, going into five editions and a special armed forces edition. Yet the book was not without literary merit, Sinclair Lewis calling it ‘the most important novel of the year.’ Whistle Stop was adapted into a 1946 film starring Ava Gardner and George Raft.

Wolff’s second novel, Night Shift, attracted more critical praise, especially for its dialog [and was made into the film The Man I Love]. Over the next 20 years she wrote four more best-selling novels. Always a private person who shunned publicity, Wolff, in 1972, refused her publisher’s request to go on a promotional tour for a recently finished novel, Sudden Rain, and as a result the novel was never published during her lifetime. At that point she evidently ceased writing fiction.

While at the University of Michigan she had met and married a prolific young writer, Hubert Skidmore, who published six novels before he was 30. Skidmore died in a house fire in 1946. In 1947 Wolff married a costume jeweller, Leonard Stegman, by whom she had a son, Hugh Stegman. After Wolff’s death, the manuscript for Sudden Rain, which had been kept safely in her refrigerator for the last thirty years of her life, was published (along with re-issues of Whistle Stop and Night Shift) to much acclaim.”

With a script by W. R. “Little Caesar” Burnett and Catherine Turney, The Man I Love deals with love, loss, and the search for some sort of permanence in a world that’s constantly throwing the worst at you – a world in which one expects nothing, and gets it. As Wikipedia summarizes the film’s basic narrative, “homesick for her family in Los Angeles, lounge singer Petey Brown (Ida Lupino) decides to leave New York City to spend some time visiting her two sisters and brother on the West Coast. Shortly she lands a job at the nightclub of small-time-hood Nicky Toresca (Robert Alda) where her sister Sally (Andrea King) is employed.

While evading the sleazy Toresca’s heavy-handed passes, Petey falls in love with down-and-out ex-jazz pianist San Thomas (Bruce Bennett), who has never recovered from an old divorce. Variously solving the problems of her sisters, brother and their next-door neighbor, the no-nonsense Petey must wait as San decides whether to start a new life with her or sign back on with a merchant steamer.”

The film deals with surviving on a limited income, the transience of friendship, the need to live in the moment in a world of uncertain tomorrows, and even such topical issues as PTSD – Sally’s husband Roy Otis (John Ridgely) has returned from World War II an emotional wreck, and is confined to a Veterans Hospital for most of the film – as well as Nicky Teresa’s unceasing sexual harassment of Petey.

But what is most remarkable about the film is Lupino’s performance – her singing voice is dubbed, but in the dramatic scenes, and in the intensity of her love for the seemingly doomed San Thomas, the depth of emotional investment in the role is absolutely heartbreaking. There will be no happy ending for Petey and San, “the man she loves” – after a few days of companionship, San, his career in ruins, ships out out with the merchant marine, while Petey decides not to stay with her sister, but instead go back of the road as a torch singer – perhaps in Chicago, or New York, or wherever the road takes her.

Raoul Walsh was a tough director, unsentimental in his approach to life and his work as a filmmaker, and Lupino, who learned her craft as a director by watching Walsh, steals every scene she’s in simply through the intensity of her screen presence – Walsh often just hangs on her face, as she listens to San play the piano, or lends a sympathetic era to her sister’s problems, and thus effortlessly dominates the proceedings.

As Jeremy Arnold wrote of the film, “The Man I Love is not a film which thrives on plot. Atmosphere is everything here. The late-night jam sessions, underworld characters and steamy songs all make for a memorably moody experience . . . critics were mixed to negative (‘a brittle sex romance’ is how Variety described it), but The Man I Love touched something in filmgoers and became a big hit. [Lupino biographer William Donati noted that], ‘Lupino fans, especially women, lined up to see it. When hard-edged Petey Brown, tough but emotionally vulnerable, finds herself alone when her man sails to sea, a responsive chord was struck in many a woman’s heart.’”

The Man I Love doesn’t take place in neat little houses with white picket fences; it’s a world of cheap apartments, jobs from which one can be fired at a moment’s notice, and constant scrimping and saving just to get by. No one has time to feel sorry for themselves – they’re too busy simply trying to survive. Available on DVD only in archival format, The Man I Love tells more about the late 1940s American than many better known films, and thus deserves a much wider audience – it isn’t escapism, and it isn’t really a romance – it’s more a document of a time and place, and the people who lived through an era.

The Man I Love runs quite often on TCM; when you get a chance to see it, do so.

William Cameron Menzies’ Invaders from Mars (1953)

Monday, December 28th, 2015

Click here, or on the image above, to see Menzies’ entire film Invaders From Mars.

Invaders From Mars is a classic of 1950s Red Scare science fiction, depicting a world that is paranoid beyond belief, photographed in garish color, as directed and designed by the renowned William Cameron Menzies, the production designer of many excellent films, including Gone With The Wind (1939) — the first film on which a “production designer” credit was formally listed in the credits. The film is being screened in January at the UCLA Film Archive in its original 35mm format, and has long since been recognized as one of the classic “childhood nightmare” films of the era, and one of Menzies’ finest achievements. Menzies’ biographer, James Curtis, will introduce the screening.

As Glenn Erickson of DVD Savant notes of the film:

Invaders from Mars was made relatively early in the 50s Sci Fi cycle, when the field was still dominated by “A” quality efforts. A script by John Tucker Battle, optioned by one set of producers, eventually landed with Edward L. Alperson, who made the uncharacteristically brilliant decision to put the entire project into the hands of legendary production designer and sometime film director William Cameron Menzies. Menzies was the genius who practically invented the concept of production design, on big silent movies like The Thief of Baghdad. His unique graphic sense graced the films of Sam Wood (Our Town, For Whom the Bell Tolls, King’s Row). Menzies made Hollywood history with David O. Selznick by single-handedly engineering Gone With the Wind’s visual dimension. Without him, the divergent contributions of a half-dozen directors might have created a shambles.”

You can read the entire essay by clicking here.

As Glenn Erickson continues, “the furious action that concludes Invaders from Mars becomes even more dreamlike with the repetitions of shots and scenes [. . .] Dialogue lines are also repeated, especially young David’s, “Colonel Fielding!, Colonel Fielding!,” which is heard so often it becomes an unending echo. These repetition patterns make the ending more dreamlike in two ways. First, a high level of anxiety is maintained while the actual story progression slows to a crawl. A classic anxiety dream situation is ‘running in place but not getting anywhere,’ exactly the feeling imparted to Invaders. Second, the repetition forces a fixation on the images that keep coming back, a fixation that has the obsessive quality of dream logic. In our dreams, shocking moments seem to hang forever in the consciousness, or illogically ‘come back again, but for the first time,’ over and over.”

Click here, or on the image above, to read the entire screenplay for the original film.

William Cameron Menzies: The Shape of Films to Come

Monday, December 21st, 2015

An absolutely essential book on one of the most influential cinema artists of all time.

James Curtis’s William Cameron Menzies: The Shape of Films to Come is easily one of the best film books of 2015. It manages to pull off an amazing feat; it’s prodigiously researched, but it never succumbs to a recitation of mere facts; it includes an enormous amount of personal detail, but never gets lost in a forest of statistics.

It is above all a supreme synthesis of history and theory, treating all of Menzies’ work, whether as a director or a production designer (or often, as both simultaneously) with great care and respect, illustrated with a stunning array of color and black and white plates, including many rare behind the scenes shots that really put the reader into the center of the narrative.

Most of all, it is the careful, conscientious, but never pedantic style of the book that impresses. Curtis clearly knows Menzies’ work inside out, and yet he wears this knowledge easily, creating an accessible, reasoned, brilliantly written book, one of the most carefully detailed and critically measured volumes written on any historical figure, no matter what their profession.

Time and again, I was struck by the carefully reasoned tone of Curtis’s work, his sharp yet graceful prose style, and the remarkable way in which he managed to gather such an incredible amount of material in one volume, and make the whole thing flow so smoothly – it’s easily his finest book. The design of The Shape of Films to Come is another plus factor; the volume is overflowing with images, and the layout of the text and illustrations – something Menzies would appreciate – is impeccable.

Curtis’s book is thus a supreme achievement on every level, and for those who don’t know Menzies or his work, it opens up a world of wonder and amazement – often amazement at how much Menzies managed to accomplish on many of his assignments with very little in the way of a budget.

From Menzies’ production design on Gone With The Wind, to his science-fiction children’s nightmare Invaders from Mars, to the pioneering futuristic epic Things To Come, to his work on such projects as The Whip Hand, Address Unknown, The Maze, Around The World in 80 Days and numerous other films, Curtis meticulously details Menzies’ long career, a life filled with hard work and a good deal of tragedy, but one which ultimately left us with some of the most memorable images in cinema history.

In short, this is a must read for anyone with even the remotest interest in the cinema, and a singular accomplishment in every respect. The Shape of Films to Come gets my highest possible recommendation – this is literally a flawless book. And considering the massive amount of detail that went into it, that in itself is a stellar accomplishment. Once you pick this book up, I guarantee you won’t put it down.

This is a major work of scholarship, history and theory, and a genuine delight to read.

Ration Books and Rabbit Pies: Films from the Home Front

Saturday, December 19th, 2015

Here’s a fascinating collection of British wartime short films – another treat from the British Film Institute.

As CineOutsider reports, “continuing the BFI’s work of unlocking film heritage in Britain, this fascinating DVD collection brings together a selection of public information films, propaganda shorts and adverts from the Second World War, drawn from the BFI National Archive, and contains films that give essential advice to a nation living in an age of austerity.

Originally shown in cinemas to British audiences during the Second World War, these films served to boost morale, covering topics which include rationing, staying healthy, how to grow vegetables, cooking tips and salvaging and recycling. These films were crucial to the British war effort and the campaign messaging has been much reproduced in modern advertising to this day.

Highlights of the collection include Tea Making Tips (1941), with ‘the six golden tips’ for making the perfect cuppa; director/artist/animator Len Lye’s When the Pie Was Opened (1941); Did You Ever See a Dream Talking (1943) starring comedian Claude Hulbert playing a Home Guard volunteer; Wisdom of the Wild (1940), a wartime twist on the long-running Secrets of Life natural history series; the Wicked Witch (1943), an advert for Rinso and A-Tish-oo! (1941), an instructional film on how to make a face-mask.”

There’s also a collection of Food Flash mini-shorts, each about 15 seconds long, which cover everything from ‘victory meals’ to the necessity of reporting rat infestations to the local council to prevent them from raiding food supplies. All the films are very brief, and together they give a fascinating look at a time and place long vanished from authentic recall for most people.

There’s nothing like living history – which this DVD supplies – to bring the past back to life before our eyes. I was lucky enough to get an advance copy from the BFI, and it’s a pip! You won’t see these films anywhere else – pick up a copy, and support the BFI, and international film history.

A fascinating collection – absolutely worthwhile, and beautifully restored.

Video: The Celluloid Backlash

Friday, December 18th, 2015

More and more, commercial and indie filmmakers are embracing the values that only actual film can offer.

While 99% of all Hollywood films, and independent films as well, are being shot and post-produced digitally – i.e. “born digital” – there is a new phenomenon which seems to be expanding throughout the industry – major commercial filmmakers returning to the physical film medium because the celluloid image offers a different, warmer, and some would argue superior set of visual values, resulting in a new countermovement within the industry, which challenges the conventional wisdom that “film is dead” and digital rules.

I would argue that film is more alive than ever, and that the headlong rush to digital is something that has its benefits and drawbacks, and there are many within the industry – as noted in this video -  who feel actual film stock is an indispensable part of the cinema. To date, the list of new movies shot on film includes J.J. Abrams’ Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens, Quentin Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight, Sam Mendes’ latest installment of the Bond franchise, Spectre, David O. Russell’s Joy and Zack Snyder’s Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. More films – shot on film – are in the pipeline.

Thanks again to Curt Bright for creating this video; see you in 2016!

Video: The Theatrical Experience

Thursday, December 17th, 2015

If you’re going to watch a movie, you should see it on the big screen if at all possible.

Here, in another episode of Frame by Frame, I discuss the decline in theatrical film viewing in favor of at home video on demand streaming, as used in platforms like Netflix, Hulu, Amazon and others, as DVDs fade into the distance, and theatrical screenings become a more and more rare experience. This is unfortunate, because the only way you can really see a film – and see all the detail within each shot, is on a big screen, which is the size that 90% of all films were originally made to be seen in, before the advent of television.

Now, of course, TV is fading away, as more and more people are content to watch films in their living room, and given the relative convenience and safety of seeing a film at home – as I note – who can blame them? But nevertheless, the fact remains that, as my late friend the director Roy Ward Baker once told me – and I never forgot it – “on a DVD or television, you can inspect a film, but you can’t experience it.” And it’s absolutely true, which is why seeing a film in a theater remains – after all these years – the optimal way to really see a film.

Check out the video above to find out why.

About the Author

Wheeler Winston Dixon

Wheeler Winston Dixon, Ryan Professor of Film Studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, is an internationally recognized scholar and writer of film history, theory and criticism. He is the author of thirty books and more than 100 articles on film, and appears regularly in national media outlets discussing film and culture trends. Frame by Frame is a collection of his thoughts on a number of those topics. All comments by Dixon on this blog are his own opinions.

In The National News

National media outlets featured and cited Wheeler Winston Dixon on a number of film, media and other topics in the past month - http://newsroom.unl.edu/inthenews/

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