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Archive for the ‘Films That Need a DVD Release’ Category

Denis Côté’s Boris sans Béatrice (2016)

Saturday, July 9th, 2016

Denis Côté’s new film Boris sans Béatrice (2016) is a stripped-down, sharp tale of moral redemption.

As Brendan Kelly writes in the Montreal Gazette, “Denis Côté’s films may not make bazillions at the box office, but the Montreal auteur’s original, highly stylized offerings travel the world as much as the work of almost any other Canadian director this side of David Cronenberg. [You can watch an interview with the director by clicking here, or on the image above.]

Côté’s ninth feature, Boris sans Béatrice, had its world première in official competition at the Berlin International Film Festival [in February 2016], and then opened the recent Rendez-vous du cinéma québécois. James Hyndman stars as a successful Quebec businessman who enters a moral crisis after his wife (Simone-Élise Girard), a federal cabinet minister, falls into a coma-like state. It opens in cinemas Friday, including a version with English subtitles. [I asked the filmmaker a few questions] . . .

Q: There has been a debate here for a while about whether we should be making popular films or more artsy films. What do you think of this whole discussion?

A: Look, I’m 42 years old. I’ve made nine features. At a certain moment, I’m allowed to get up in the morning and just be Denis Côté, no? I’m not capable of making a commercial film. It’s not that I don’t want to do it — I’m not able to do it. If you ask me to film a bank robbery, I’m sorry, but I’m allergic to conventional filmmaking. I can’t make a film for M. or Madame Tout le Monde. I’m a cinephile, I was a film critic, and I’ve seen loads of films. I’m a bit obsessed with being different and having my own signature. So by definition, you lose a certain audience because of that.

And I’ve been encouraged to keep my signature. People in the business said, ‘Wow, you made Carcasses [a strange, low-budget 2009 film about a man who has a bunch of burnt-out cars on his land] and you went to Cannes.’ They said, ‘Wow, you filmed animals in Bestiaire [a 2012 film shot at Parc Safari] and you went to 100 festivals around the world and it was sold in seven or eight countries. So at a certain moment you start to believe in Denis Côté. You don’t think of la madame in Verdun.

And the business continues to support me. I didn’t need to fight for four years to make Boris sans Béatrice. I had one meeting at [Canadian provincial film funding agency] SODEC, and it was supported right away by [federal film agency] Telefilm. The agencies are sensitive to two things: box office and international exposure. With me, everyone knows I’m the guy who represents Canada internationally. They like that and they need that. And they don’t expect me to blow up at the box office. So if you ask me if Boris sans Béatrice is an art-house film, I’d answer, ‘Yes it is, and I’m proud of it.’”

The film marks something of a departure, at least for me, from Côté’s other films, in that it’s much more human, and humane, and also about human fallibility, than some of his darker films, like Vic and Flo Saw A Bear, a minimalist masterpiece with a heavenly happy ending, but only after the characters in the film go through all sorts of earthly Hell.

In Boris sans Béatrice, the protagonist’s Hell is of his own making; neglecting his wife for his hyper-successful business, tumbling from one meaningless affair into the next, and most of all behaving with an overpowering sense of arrogant entitlement for most of the film, Boris is clearly headed straight for the wall, in one sense or another.

This all changes when he receives a mysterious summons in his mailbox from a mysterious, otherworldly judge, billed appropriately as “l’Inconnu” in the film’s credits, played superbly by Denis Lavant, who calls Boris to account for his hubris, neglect, and his failure to take care of his wife, his mother, or even his daughter, other than bailing her out of jail after she’s arrested during a protest action.

In a sense, Lavant’s character resembles a more severe version of the character Heurtebise (as played by François Périer) in Jean Cocteau’s Orphée (1950), who aids but also chastises the poet Orpheus (Jean Marais) when he similarly neglects his wife, Eurydice (Marie Déa).

Immaculately photographed, superbly acted, and entirely the work of someone who – for once – wants to please himself and no one else, Boris sans Béatrice gives us a indelible portrait of an utterly selfish, self-involved man who finally, through the agency of some supernatural guidance, is restored to the ones he truly loves, after realizing that the rest of his life, without love, is meaningless.

In this, the film is perhaps Côté’s most accessible work, despite his protestations to the contrary. Unlike the fashionably death-obsessed and self-conciously brutal allegories offered up by, for example, Michael Haneke, Boris sans Béatrice – which starts out with an unrelenting coldness – shifts gradually into a film that exudes a palpable sense of realistic hope, becoming a study of a life examined, found wanting, and reclaimed – a spectacle all too rare these days.

My thanks to Gwendolyn Audrey Foster for introducing me to this beautiful, thoughtful film.

Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet Retro at MoMA

Sunday, May 15th, 2016

Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet finally get a complete retrospective at The Museum of Modern Art.

As the program notes for the retrospective announce, “MoMA presents the first complete North American retrospective of the films of Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet, who together formed one of the most intense, challenging, and controversial collaborations in the history of cinema. Straub (French, b. 1933) and Huillet (French, 1936–2006) were inseparable partners from 1954 until Huillet’s death, working intimately on every aspect of film production, from script writing to direction to editing.

Straub-Huillet created highly personal film interpretations of profoundly ambitious art: stories by Böll, Kafka, Duras, and Pavese; poems by Dante, Mallarmé, and Hölderlin; a long-forgotten Corneille play, an essay by Montaigne, a film by D. W. Griffith, a painting by Cézanne, an unfinished opera by Schöenberg; and the biography of Johann Sebastian Bach as told through the (fictionalized) letters of his wife Anna Magdalena.

They sought to make what Straub called ‘an abstract-pictorial dream’ while remaining rigorously sensitive to the letter and spirit of the text, and to the relationship between sound and image. At the same time, all of Straub-Huillet’s films are political, whether obliquely, in reflecting on the lessons of history and advancing a Marxist analysis of capitalism and class struggle; or overtly, in considering ancient and contemporary forms of imperialism, militarism, and resistance, from Ancient Rome to colonial Egypt to wartime Germany. They aspire to nothing short of a revolution in political consciousness, especially among workers and peasants, the colonized and the exploited.

At 83, Straub continues to make films that never waver from his commitment to the subversion of all forms of cinematic convention, whether through the use of direct sound, disjunctive editing, amateur actors, and a foregrounding of the natural landscape; fragmentary and elliptical narratives spoken in various languages; Brechtian estrangement; on-location shooting of ancient texts in contemporary, anachronistic settings (for example, on the ground where the Circus Maximus once stood); and a privileging of musical and poetic rhythms and structures over the decorative, the spectacular, the psychological, and the satirical. Dialogue is shorn of emotion, and images are deliberately unflashy. ‘The work we have to do,’ Straub insists, ‘is to make films which radically eliminate art, so that there is no equivocation.’

Introductions by noted Straub-Huillet collaborators take place during the retrospective’s opening weekend. Unless they are listed as 35mm, films are presented in new digital preservations overseen by Straub, Olivier Boischot, and Barbara Ulrich. The series is organized by Joshua Siegel, Curator, Department of Film.” This once in a lifetime chance to see the work of these master filmmakers, most of which is unavailable on DVD, is simply not to be missed in one is in the New York area.

My own favorites of their work include The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach (1968), starring harpsichordist Gustav Leonhardt as Bach (whom I once had the pleasure of meeting and talking with about the making of the film, after he presented an organ concert in Amsterdam); the 16mm color feature History Lessons (1972), and the 35mm short The Bridegroom, The Comedienne and The Pimp (1968), featuring a young Rainer Werner Fassbinder as the pimp, but these are just a few of their many brilliant films. A chance to see these gorgeous, transcendent films should not be passed up if at all possible.

Click here, or on the image above, to see the entire schedule for the series.

Special Issue of Cinephile – Visions of the 60s

Sunday, May 15th, 2016

This came out in 2015, but somehow it slipped past my radar.

I have an essay in this issue of the excellent journal Cinephile on experimental cinema in the 1960s, Cinephile 11.1, “Visions of the Sixties.” As the journal’s website notes, “marking the tenth anniversary of the University of British Columbia’s Film Journal, this issue features articles by Wheeler Winston Dixon, David E. James, Victoria Kennedy, Andrew Marzoni, and Emma Pett, with an introduction by Timothy Scott Brown. For more information, please click here.”

It was a pleasure working with the editors of the journal, Molly Lewis and Angela Walsh, on the essay. I love the cover, which really captures the spirit of the era. As Timothy Scott Brown notes in an introductory essay for the issue, “if one theme or question emerges from the essays in this issue, it is about the status of popular culture as a field for the creation, elaboration, and consumption of the 1960s cultural revolution.

Wheeler Winston Dixon’s essay, ‘The End of the Real: 1960s Experimental Cinema, and The Loss of Cinema Culture,’ calls to mind the now (in some cases, literally) lost world of 1960s independent filmmaking, a world in which the notion of making art outside of normal channels of production and distribution was understood by its protagonists as its own form of radical praxis.

It is difficult to call to mind now, in an era of almost unlimited access to the cultural means of production—no further away than one’s laptop—the radical imperative at work in the artistic initiatives Dixon examines. Against the backdrop of our current and seemingly endless horizon of digital possibility, the technical inaccessibility of this earlier wave of underground art reads as particularly ironic.”

If you get a chance to pick up a copy, do so – it’s an excellent issue all around.

Still Not On DVD – “They Won’t Believe Me” (1947)

Friday, May 13th, 2016

Irving Pichel’s They Won’t Believe Me is a noir masterpiece that still doesn’t have a US DVD release.

As Steve Eifert wrote in part in his blog Noir of the Week way back in 2012, “Let’s get the bad news out of the way first. TCM for all the good it does for classic films – airs a butchered version of the RKO noir They Won’t Believe Me! Instead of the 95 minutes watching a man behave badly we’re stuck with a neutered lead not really doing anything all that wrong. The cut 80-minute one turns a top-shelf film noir into a watered-down flim flam. Cutting 15 minutes from a film can do that . . . the 80-minute cut should be shown before the full version to film students as a lesson on how a bad edit can ruin a film.

[The film] fits nicely with “A” pictures like Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice but retains that RKO look and feel (slightly cheap and gritty with familiar actors peppering the edges). That would include Out of the Past released 1/2 a year after They Won’t Believe Me! Robert Young plays Larry Ballentine — a young playboy who marries rich. He finds himself bored with is wife and begins an inappropriate relationship with one of his wife’s friends (Jane Greer). When we first are introduced to Larry and Janice it’s in a courtroom with Larry on trial for murder.

It quickly moves to a flashback showing the two on a Saturday afternoon meetup at a New York City bar. They drink crazy frozen drinks that you’d never think about ordering when you’re alone. They’re flirty and touchy – as they discuss their plans to build a boat together. Larry – after downing a few drinks – stumbles home to be confronted by his wife, her aunt, and some friends who think he’s a heel.

Things happen and the next week he tells her he’s leaving her for Janice. Greta (Rita Johnson) convinces him otherwise and Janice is out of the picture. Larry continues to work for his wife’s company. He’s only there because his wife owns a sizable share of it. He is lazy –as expected –and not liked by his partner Trenton (familiar face Tom Powers.)

Underling Verna Carlson (Susan Hayward) catches Larry’s eye one day. Before he can finish a voice over talking about how he’s been ‘too close to the flame and is now power shy when it comes to beautiful women’ he’s asking her what kind of perfume she likes.

I would guess you could credit camera man Harry J. Wild for most of the film’s look – he certainly shot his share of noir including Pitfall, Nocturne, Station West, The Threat, His Kind of Woman and many, many more. Director/actor Irving Pichel didn’t do anything remarkable in the film-noir world outside of this one (which is great), but turned out the enjoyable Quicksand in 1950.

The cast of They Won’t Believe Me! Is strong. Robert Young is remembered by those of a certain age as Marcus Welby, M.D. Here he’s quite good as the playboy with a wandering eye. Jane Greer is only months away before Out of the Past is released. She’s at the height of her beauty. Finally Susan Hayward is given some of the best lines. She’s quite something when she’s trying to reel in Larry by cutting down his rich wife and flashing a smile that is so suggestive it should be illegal – only Gilda’s hair flip is more powerful.”

That was four years ago, and as I wrote in the comments section when Steve’s article appeared, “this is one of the greatest noirs of all time, and you’re absolutely right — the 80 minute cut is a disaster. Luckily for me, I was able to see it uncut at the Thalia Theater in NYC many years ago in 35mm, and it made an indelible impression.

Irving Pichel’s direction is immaculate, and Robert Young is very interestingly cast against type as the ne’er do well husband. It’s sad that this isn’t available on DVD; and you’re right about the Italian DVD – it’s still cut. This truly is, from first frame to last, an absolutely superb film — not just an excellent noir, but a brilliant, tough piece of filmmaking, easily in the same class as Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past.

I can only hope that the WB Archive follows through with putting this out, even with potentially damaged footage. It’s a missing gem in American film history. If anyone out there has a decent copy of the uncut version, I sure would like to hear from them.”

This was when the WB Archive was considering releasing the film, but that came to nought – and so we have only a VHS, and two foreign versions, one of which is out of sync, and another with Castilian subtitles that you can’t turn off during viewing. Neither DVD does the film any sort of justice, to say nothing of the 80 minute cut down job; this deserves a Criterion version all the way, but why on earth isn’t it getting one? I just watched the butchered Spanish version this evening, poorly transferred and with unwanted subtitles, and it still knocked me out.

Another classic “lost in the cosmos” as Jean-Luc Godard would put it – see it uncut if you possibly can.

Lois Weber’s “Shoes” (1916) Saved by Eye Museum, Amsterdam

Friday, April 29th, 2016

The EYE Museum in Amsterdam has restored Shoes (1916), a nearly lost film by director Lois Weber.

As the EYE Museum’s YouTube site notes, “the film Shoes (1916, USA, Universal Bluebird Photoplays), directed by Lois Weber, starred Mary MacLaren, Harry Griffith, Jessie Arnold, and William Mong. The film is a social drama about the dime store clerk Eva Meyer (MacLaren), who desperately needs a new pair of shoes. However, because her father is unemployed, Eva’s weekly earnings go into the household budget, bringing a new pair of shoes completely out of her reach.”

As historian Shelley Stamp writes of Lois Weber on the Women Film Pioneers Project website, “Lois Weber was the leading female director-screenwriter in early Hollywood. She began her career alongside her husband, Phillips Smalley, after the two had worked together in the theatre. They began working in motion pictures around 1907, often billed under the collective title ‘The Smalleys.’

In their early years at studios like Gaumont and Reliance, they acted alongside one another on-screen and codirected scripts written by Weber. Indeed, their status as a married, middle-class couple was often used to enhance their reputation for highbrow, quality pictures.

In 1912, they were placed in charge of the Rex brand at the Universal Film Manufacturing Company, where they produced one or two one-reel films each week with a stock company of actors, quickly turning the brand into one of the studio’s most sophisticated.

The couple increasingly turned their attention to multireel films, completing a four-reel production of The Merchant of Venice in 1914, the first American feature directed by a woman. Later that year they moved from Universal to Hobart Bosworth Productions where they were given more freedom to make feature-length films, among them Hypocrites (1915).

By the time the couple arrived back at Universal in 1916, Weber had emerged as the dominant member of the husband and wife partnership and, indeed, as one of the top directors on the lot. She was the sole author of scripts the couple adapted for the screen, and marketing materials and reviews singled out her work on the productions. Reporters visiting the couple on set found Smalley repeatedly turning to his wife for important decisions.

During these years Weber made a series of high profile and often deeply controversial films on social issues of the day, including capital punishment in The People vs. John Doe (1916), drug abuse in Hop, the Devil’s Brew (1916), poverty and wage equity in Shoes (1916), and contraception in Where Are My Children? (1916) and The Hand That Rocks the Cradle (1917) [. . .]

Weber achieved the height of her renown during these years: her name was routinely mentioned alongside that of D. W. Griffith and Cecil B. DeMille as one of the top talents in Hollywood. In 1916, she was the first and only woman elected to the Motion Picture Directors Association, a solitary honor she would retain for decades.

While at Universal it is also likely that she helped to foster the careers of other actresses employed at the studio, many of whom she had directed, including Cleo Madison, Lule Warrenton, and Dorothy Davenport Reid, who would become directors or producers in their own right.”

Read Stamp’s complete essay on Lois Weber by clicking here – an essential figure in cinema history.

Complete Online Index – “A Short History of Film”

Thursday, April 28th, 2016

A scholar in Germany has created a complete online index to A Short History of Film, 2nd edition.

A scholar in Germany has compiled a complete list of all the films mentioned in A Short History of Film, 2nd edition (Rutgers University Press, 2013), written by Gwendolyn Audrey Foster and myself, with images of either the poster, or the DVD for each film, complete with links to reviews, purchase points, and other information on the film – as well as lots of opinions, of course – which seems like rather an amazing undertaking.

All told, the list covers more than 2,000 films, and runs to 21 webpages in the list, and can serve as a very useful way to access the films discussed in the volume. So if you’re reading A Short History of Film, 2nd edition, or using it for a class, and would like detail on access to some of the many films mentioned – the images here show just a few of the many titles covered in the volume – just consult this list, click on the title, and see what’s available.

A very useful guide – many thanks to the person who did so much work on this.

Andy Warhol at Work in The Factory, 1965

Wednesday, April 27th, 2016

This is the best footage I’ve ever seen of Warhol at work in The Silver Factory, E. 47th Street, NYC 1965.

UPDATE: Just turn off the right or left channel on your computer’s sound output, and the echo vanishes.

There’s just ONE track staggered on the left & right with a slight delay.

Just play ONE TRACK – left or right – and the sound is clear.

There is a fair amount of footage of Warhol taking during the mid 1960s, his most productive and influential period as an artist, where he created the signature works for which he would become internationally known. Marie Menken did some great stop motion footage of Warhol making his “Flower” paintings, and independent filmmaker Bruce Torbet did a short film – “Andy Warhol – Superartist,” which used some sync sound to capture one day in the artist’s life, but this footage from the Canadian Broadcasting System for a 1965 documentary is the most authentic sync sound documentation of Warhol’s non-stop work methods during this era.

As the CBC’s site says of this footage, “spend a day with artist Andy Warhol at his studio and you might watch him make a screen print of an electric chair or observe him stretching a canvas onto a frame. You might even end up in front of his Bolex as the subject of one of his screen tests, as Village Voice art critic Andrew Sarris does in this item for CBC’s Show on Shows. In this 1965 interview with Warhol and his agent, Ivan Karp, Warhol shares his thoughts on TV (it would be better if it was short bits of soap opera between many commercials), the subjects of his art (Jackie Kennedy, Elvis Presley and Elizabeth Taylor), and his experiments in film.”

In this raw footage, complete with clapper boards for later editing, you see Warhol and his assistant Gerard Malanga knocking out one silkscreen after another – here, a series of electric chair silkscreen prints – with almost complete indifference to Andrew Sarris, the famed film critic for the Village Voice, who lobs questions at Warhol which he answers with just a few enigmatic words, or passes off to art dealer Ivan Karp, who earnestly explains the “pop” aesthetic for Sarris, and for an implied television audience which at the time had no idea what “pop art” was.

As the footage continues, Warhol shoots a brief, 100′ screen test of Sarris, instructing him simply not to talk, with Malanga’s assistance in checking the exposure and focus – the only footage that I’ve seen in sync sound which documents an actual “screen test” – running roughly 2.47 minutes- shot with a Bolex with an electric motor, so the entire film is completed in one take. Warhol would soon expand this by the use of an Auricon camera, which could shoot 1200′ – or roughly 35 minutes – in one burst to create such films as Vinyl and My Hustler (both 1965).

The CBC has done something with the sound here which is rather annoying; adding a echo effect which makes the dialogue somewhat hard to understand, and distracts from the immediacy of the moment, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Also, it’s interesting to see how methodical and mechanical Warhol is as he creates one work of art after another, and how Malanga, normally a very loquacious person, says nothing as Andy directs the creation of both the screen test and the series of screen prints – it’s a Factory, all right, and this is just another typical work day. You also get a real sense of Warhol’s somewhat puckish sense of humor, in addition to his rather imperious control over what’s happening – he’s definitely a force to be reckoned with.

A fascinating document – runs about 10 minutes – really worth watching.

The Night Manager – Totally Addictive Television

Wednesday, April 20th, 2016

The Night Manager, from John le Carré’s 1993 novel, is a British drama ideal for non-stop binge watching.

Produced by the BBC, and already screened on British television, the six-part miniseries debuted on AMC on April 19, 2016, and I was hooked from the first moments on. Tom Hiddleston, who was so good in Jim Jarmusch’s post-modern vampire thriller Only Lovers Left Alive, and Hugh Laurie, who made a fortune from umpteen seasons of House, combine with Danish filmmaker Susanne Bier, who directed all six episodes, to create a rattling good yarn that keeps you enthralled from first frame to last.

Le Carré, who is now 84, is apparently even musing the idea of writing a sequel to his novel with the same characters, because he’s so pleased with the result as well, and the actors in the mini-series have made pact that if le Carré does, in fact, turn out another novel as a follow up, they’ll all line up to do it. The entire series is out on Region 2 DVD in the UK now, and after watching just one episode on AMC, I snapped up the DVD of the entire series immediately – commercial free, of course.

As Hiddleston told Debra Birnbaum of Variety, “It’s fascinating to hear that Le Carré himself is up for it and considering writing new material for characters he created 25 years ago.” As Birnbaum further reported, “Le Carré — now 84 and living and working in Cornwall, on the southwestern tip of England — was part of the creative process throughout, contributing extra scenes, answering spycraft questions, sitting through the table read and, yes, cringing at the changes to his book. But ultimately, he was satisfied.

‘It seems to me that this time ’round we may really have got it: Film doing its own job, opening up my novel in ways I didn’t think anyone had noticed. And what I like best of all is how Susanne Bier goes on chewing at the bone of the drama long after other directors would have given up.”

The series was filmed on location in four countries over the course of 75 days. Bier approached it like a very long feature, shooting scenes out of order. She gave the actors ample freedom to explore — beginning each day by allowing them to improvise in rehearsals to see how a scene might play out. Making sure she didn’t stray from the story, while still maintaining creative freedom, was ‘like having a number of chess games running at the same time,’ she notes.”

The plot is vintage le Carré, but brought up to date with a modern twist. During the midst of the Arab Spring of 2011, a mysterious and utterly unscrupulous arms dealer, Richard Roper (Laurie) –  repeatedly described as “the worst man in the world”  - who hides in plain sight as a supposedly legitimate businessman and philanthropist, tries to strike a deal with some militants for a massive shipment of weapons – enough to equip an entire army ten times over.

But his plans are derailed by former British soldier Jonathan Pine (Hiddleston), now the night manager at a Cairo hotel, who comes into possession of some incriminating documents, and leaks them to the British authorities. And that, of course, leads to absolute mayhem – and naturally all the governments involved are corrupt, intelligence agencies are underfunded, and no one can be trusted at all.

From there, I honestly have no idea what happens, and I’m just going to wait for the DVD to arrive, and then sit down and watch the entire series in one gulp, but I can tell you this much; it’s not Masterpiece Theater. This is sharp, smart filmmaking with a real bite, stylishly directed by Bier with real skill and feeling. Hiddleston and Laurie are both superb in their roles, and it’s clear that no expense was spared to bring the project to the screen. And although it’s television, one can’t help but imagine it on a theater screen – talk about impact.

So buy the DVD, or see it on AMC: The Night Manager is definitely worth a look!

Barbara Flueckiger on Restoring Color Films

Sunday, April 17th, 2016

Restoring color films – shot in a variety of processes – is painstaking, delicate, and essential work.

As Peter Monaghan writes in the absolutely essential online journal Moving Image Archive News, “Barbara Flueckiger has run a series of projects to figure out how best to determine the original colors of films, throughout cinema history. She is developing means to more accurately replicate the colors in digital restorations. It’s a huge technical challenge: to understand not just the chemical and physical properties of film colors, but their origin in complex cultural predilections for certain color palettes. Her work promises to provide new shading to film interpretation and film history.

A 2014 state-of-the-art restoration of The Cabinet of Dr Caligari has been doing the rounds of art-house film venues, the result of work performed at L’Immagine Ritrovata, in Bologna, under the supervision of Anke Wilkening, of the Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau Foundation, in Wiesbaden. It’s a model collaborative project, and among those who worked on it was Barbara Flueckiger, whose applied research promises to be particularly important to the future of film appreciation and study.

Efforts had been made regularly since 1984 to restore Robert Wiene’s classic German silent film from 1919, which portrays an insane hypnotist who provokes a somnambulist to commit murders. Restorers had faced a quandary; it’s one that restorers always confront: How could they replicate the colors of the original? That is far from a simple challenge.

Even when restoring black-and-white classics, technicians have to deal with color complications. Early films had visual qualities that depended not only on the lighting used during the filming, but also on what film technicians — directors, art directors, film processors – did to the original camera negatives: how they tinted and toned them, or in some cases colored them by hand.

During the course of film history, explains Barbara Flueckiger, a professor of film studies at the University of Zurich since 2007, hundreds of cinematic color processes have emerged, many with roots in nineteenth-century still photography. But figuring out what those original colors and visual qualities were is no easy task. Yet, no comprehensive guide has existed to connect each color’s technical inputs to its contemporary reception and aesthetic and narrative uses.

As Flueckiger says, ‘film color is an issue that few film viewers think about consciously even though the material of film and the nature of color information play a key role in how we perceive film.’” This is essential reading for all who want to understand the ephemeral nature of film, and why it needs constant, unceasing preservation. It’s work that must continue, or the entire visual history of the 20th century – much of it missing already due to archival neglect – will cease to exist entirely.

A fascinating article – absolutely worth reading by clicking here, or on the image above.

Lost “Masterwork” Found: Thomas White’s Who’s Crazy? (1966)

Friday, April 15th, 2016

A lost “beat” classic has been found and restored, featuring an epic soundtrack by Ornette Coleman.

As Peter Monaghan writes in Moving Image Archive News, “thanks to an overdue search of the filmmaker’s garage, a rarity from the experimental film ferment of the 1960s was just screened for the first time in almost 50 years, at Anthology Film Archives in New York. With that, Who’s Crazy?, in a restoration by Anthology’s John Klacsmann and distribution by Grand Motel Films, has reemerged as an emblem of its age.

In 1965, Thomas White, then a 33-year-old American living a bohemian life in Montparnasse, made the 73-minute feature in Heist-sur-Mer, Belgium, with a set of collaborators-of-the-moment. Those included members of New York’s Living Theater, playing a bus load of residents of an asylum for the insane, and a soundtrack by the jazz icon Ornette Coleman, who even recorded a cut for the film with singer Marianne Faithfull, then in her late teens and already embarked on a life course whose mayhem the inmates might have recognized.

The rediscovery of the film has made a splash, not only because, as Richard Brody put it in The New Yorker, in article entitled “A Lost Masterwork is Found,” the film “bursts the bonds of movie logic to unleash the primal ecstasy of the cinema,” but also because of its place in the history of truly independent filmmaking of that time.

It has, for instance, links to Shirley Clarke’s recently revived 1962 portrayal The Connection, which was made from a play mounted by Living Theater co-founders Judith Malina and Julian Beck . . . Who’s Crazy had been missing for decades, listed as lost by the Library of Congress.” And when the Library of Congress says that a film is lost, that’s usually the case. But here, we got lucky. Hopefully, as Brody notes in his essay, linked above, a DVD will soon be forthcoming.

Readers of this blog know that I hold a special place in my heart for such deeply personal works, made in an era before money was ruling factor in nearly all forms of social interaction, and what Brody referred to as “the primal ecstasy of the cinema” dominated filmmaking, which was then cheap, and within the range of nearly everyone- just pick up a camera and shoot.

At the same time, the standard rules of “three act narrative,” or any form of narrative for that matter, clearly went out the window, and what was valued above all was spontaneity, authenticity, and capturing the moment, rather than CGI ridden spectacles in which every movement is defined by green screen technology. Not everything has to be planned out in advance; in fact, sometimes nothing needs to be planned at all. Sometimes, if you get an enormously talented group of people together and give them free reign, the results can be remarkable.

Writing in The New York Times, Jim Hoberman agrees, noting that “an anarchic rave with a wacky new-wave flavor, “Who’s Crazy?” opens on a bus that breaks down in the middle of nowhere. The passengers are psychiatric patients who, eluding their keepers, take refuge in a deserted building, haphazardly creating a new society complete with rituals that include a trial and a wedding.

Mr. White, reached by phone this month at his home in Connecticut, said 10 hours of film were shot over 10 or 12 days. The scenario was based on the actors’ improvisation. ‘Nobody told them what to do,’ he said.

Left to their own devices, the performers engage in breathing exercises, dress up in funny hats, play instruments, mill around, stage group hugs, make a mess, cook food, play with candles, stare into one another’s eyes, break into primal screams and declaim poetry in beatnik rants that might have been recorded at an open mike at Cafe Wha? The polyrhythmic cascade of honks and squawks produced by Mr. Coleman, abetted by his sidemen — the bassist David Izenzon and the drummer Charles Moffett — imbue these activities with tremendous energy.”

Watch the trailer for the film by clicking here, or on the image above.

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

Wheeler Winston Dixon has been quoted by Fast Company, The New Yorker, The New York Times, the BBC, CNN, The Christian Science Monitor, US News and World Report, The Boston Globe, Entertainment Weekly, The Los Angeles Times, NPR, The PBS Newshour, USA Today and other national media outlets on digital cinema, film and related topics - see the UNL newsroom at http://news.unl.edu/news-releases/1/ for more details.

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