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Posts Tagged ‘Life’

Aldous Huxley on Reality and Illusion

Wednesday, April 13th, 2016

In his very last essay, Aldous Huxley was still on point.

As he wrote, “the world is an illusion, but it is an illusion which we must take seriously, because it is real as far as it goes, and in those aspects of the reality which we are capable of apprehending. Our business is to wake up.

We have to find ways in which to detect the whole of reality in the one illusory part which our self-centered consciousness permits us to see. We must not live thoughtlessly, taking our illusion for the complete reality, but at the same time we must not live too thoughtfully in the sense of trying to escape from the dream state.

We must continually be on our watch for ways in which we may enlarge our consciousness. We must not attempt to live outside the world, which is given us, but we must somehow learn how to transform it and transfigure it. Too much ‘wisdom’ is as bad as too little wisdom, and there must be no magic tricks.

We must learn to come to reality without the enchanter’s wand and his book of the words. One must find a way of being in this world while not being of it. A way of living in time without being completely swallowed up in time.” – Aldous Huxley

This was dictated on his deathbed, and published in 1964 in the now defunct Show Magazine under the title “Shakespeare and Religion.” As always, and despite the numerous problems that Huxley had in his later years, especially with his eyesight, he still had his intellectual vision fixed firmly on the horizon, and was as suspicious of spectacle as he had been when he wrote Brave New World in 1931.

“Our business is to wake up” – words to live by.

Martin Chilton: Fifty Great Quotes About Acting

Thursday, March 24th, 2016

From Roger Moore to Eddie Murphy to Meryl Streep, click here for 50 thoughts on the craft of acting.

Writing in The Guardian, Martin Chilton has compiled a photo gallery – some of the images are above – of really sharp thoughts on an actor’s life and work from the most famous film and theater actors who’ve ever graced the screen or stage. Some of the comments are centered entirely on money; some on the trials and tribulations of fame; others on how to appear natural on screen; still other actors chafe at the demands of directors they’ve worked with, or actors they didn’t get along with.

Whatever the comment, it makes fascinating reading, and you can read through all 50 quotes by clicking on the image above, and then the next, and the next, and so on – it’s a remarkable and revealing cross section of what makes actors tick, how they feel about themselves, and how they regard their public. Some of these actors are working today, while others are giants of the past – whatever the era they worked in, they have some really perceptive insights on what they do for a living. Performances, auditions – it’s all grist for the mill.

Most are grateful for the opportunities they’ve had, and of the entire group, George Clooney perhaps sums it up best when he notes that “I cut tobacco for a living in Kentucky. That was hard work. I sold insurance door-to-door. That’s hard work. Acting is not hard work. If you’re lucky enough to be sitting at a table like this, you’ve been very lucky in your life. You caught the brass ring somewhere along the way.”

Or, as Sir Michael Caine put it, “first of all, I choose the great roles, and if none of these come, I choose the mediocre ones, and if they don’t come, I choose the ones that pay the rent,” commenting further on his appearance in the film Jaws: The Revenge (1987) that “I have never seen it, but by all accounts it is terrible. However, I have seen the house that it built, and it is terrific.” And that, folks, is what acting is all about – taking the work when you can get it, and shining even in a film, or a play, that doesn’t work at all.

Fascinating reading, and a great set of personal insights – check it out.

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.

Hollywood’s Last Survivors

Thursday, December 17th, 2015

Here is a superb piece, from The Hollywood Reporter, on the industry’s last Holocaust survivors.

Produced by Peter Flax, the series of video testimonies opens with these simple words: “Seventy years ago, the Holocaust ended. Only 11 people who lived through it remain from the world of entertainment. Now, in gripping video testimonials, Oscar winners, actors, Dr. Ruth and even Judy Garland’s hairstylist tell their personal stories, filled with hope and horror, one last time as their themes of genocide, displacement and discrimination continue to resonate today.”

The videos, and the accompanying text that follows, are absolutely shattering. Let this never be forgotten.

Black-and-White is Dead. Long Live Black-and-White!

Monday, August 31st, 2015

Peter Monaghan has very kindly interviewed me on my new book, Black & White Cinema: A Short History.

Writing in Moving Image Archive News, Monaghan notes that “set to appear in November 2015 from Rutgers University Press, Black and White Cinema: A Short History describes a range of styles of black-and-white film art, and how they arose to create the distinctive looks of Hollywood romances, gangster dramas, films noirs, and other styles.

But Dixon, a film historian and theoretician at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln, where he coordinates the film studies program, is also a seasoned filmmaker, and that provides him with a keen eye for how black-and-white film was made. He is the author or editor of numerous books, including A Short History of Film (2nd edition 2013; with Gwendolyn Audrey Foster); Streaming: Movies, Media, and Instant Access (2013); and Death of the Moguls: The End of Classical Hollywood (2012).

In this interview, he explains why black-and-white cinematography will not return, not just because black-and-white film stock is near impossible to acquire, but moreover because the skills and techniques needed to film with it are almost irreversibly moribund.

Why do you quote this, from Jonathan Carroll’s The Ghost in Love, as an epigraph to your book? The angel said, “I like black-and-white films more than color because they’re more artificial. You have to work harder to overcome your disbelief. It’s sort of like prayer.”

To me black and white is more sensuous. It’s such a transformative act to make a black-and-white film. You are entering an entirely different world, right from the start. It’s so much more of a leap into another universe. Color films and particularly color 3-D films attempt to mimic some sort of spectacular reality, whereas black-and-white films are really a meditation on the image.

It’s a medium that dominated film production up until 1966, as the normative medium in which films were created. Cameramen had the ability to look through the camera and see the world in black-and-white even though what they were seeing on the set was color. As a viewer, you have to accept its completely artificial world, so it requires a bit more of you. I think that’s what the Carroll quotation is about.

And in the 1940s you’d go to a film already willing to be transported, wouldn’t you?

Absolutely, but I don’t think audiences in the 1940s even thought about it, or the ’50s. Or even the ’60s. They just went to the movies, and expected black and white — it was the way movies looked. A black and white world.”

You can read the entire interview by clicking here, or on the image above. Thanks, Peter!

The Mostly Lost Film Festival

Sunday, August 9th, 2015

Here’s a great story on an essential cultural event for cinema buffs – the Mostly Lost Film Festival.

As Noah Bierman wrote in The Los Angeles Times, “beneath glimmering chandeliers at an Art Deco movie house built into the side of a mountain, 150 silent-movie buffs sat wide-eyed as snippets from films lost decades ago lighted up the screen. Their quest: Name the film, or at least spot details that will advance the cause.

The fans shouted clues as a piano player wearing an old-time parlor vest and a thick period mustache improvised jaunty scores. They scoured vintage magazines on their laptops, checked film databases on their tablets, and scrubbed their brains for odd bits of early 20th century cultural history. Every frame had the potential to unlock a secret.

‘East Coast vegetation!’ someone yelled, shortly after a brief segment of a Western began. A locomotive flashed, and someone deduced that a scene had been filmed in France, given the placement of the boiler. When dialogue titles popped up on another clip, a viewer guessed that it was produced by Thomas Edison’s studio because of the distinctive font.

And then there was the lucky glimpse of a calendar with a key nugget — the date April 1 falling on a Saturday. That movie was probably shot in 1922, a fan surmised, based on a quick online search of old calendars.

This was the Mostly Lost Film Festival, which has become a pilgrimage for a subset of movie fans who revere the era long before the advent of computer-enhanced animatronic dinosaurs.

For four years, the event at the State Theatre on the Library of Congress’ Packard Campus has attracted historians with advanced degrees, old men with stacks of even older film tins in their basements and self-taught aficionados who can quickly determine a car’s model year or identify a never-famous actor by the shape of his posterior.

This year, an 11-year-old boy, who has appeared on Turner Classic Movies to introduce Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times, missed two days of school to be here. What they all had in common was an obsession with a time when movies were made without color, sound or social media campaigns.

The Packard Campus, about 90 minutes from Washington, D.C., near the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, houses the largest and most comprehensive film collection in the world. The 125 films screened over three days in June were mere fragments — five- to 10-minute clips — mostly from movies so obscure that even top film archivists could not decipher the titles, name the actors, or determine the year they were made.

The clue from the 1922 calendar turned out to be a clincher. It matched the film to a publicity photograph — found in an online database called Lantern — from a film called Small Town Hero, which involved a woman who works alongside a chimpanzee at a general store. (Chimpanzees show up often in silent movies, as do men in bowler hats.)

Movies like this are unlikely to be revered alongside Chaplin classics, even after they are identified. Many, after all, were forgotten for a reason. ‘Very few of them will ever make it to an audience,’ said Serge Bromberg, a 54-year-old Parisian who owns Lobster Films, a company that restores, sells and shows old films and who regularly screens movies here. ‘We are the unique animals who will watch these films.’”

This may be true, but this work is absolutely essential if we are to have real understanding of our cinematic past. Click on the link here, or the image above, to read the rest of this fascinating article; the site also includes a number of excellent videos detailing the sorry state of film preservation today, just how few silent films still actually exist, how archives go about restoring a film, and numerous other related topics.

This is an excellent idea – and helps us to put together the history of cinema, as a group effort.

Robert Downey Jr. on Growing Up With This Father

Tuesday, July 28th, 2015

Sam Jones has a great web series entitled Off Camera – and here’s an interview with Robert Downey Jr.

As readers of this blog will hopefully know, I am a longtime friend and fan of the work of Robert Downey Sr. - Robert Jr’s father – who made such brilliant films as Putney Swope, Too Much Sun and Chafed Elbows. In this intimate, warm chat with Sam Jones, Downey Jr. describes what it was like to grow up in the Downey household, where his mother and father were constantly making one film after another, “spitballing” ideas for new projects, and trying to top each other with one liners, especially after Downey Sr.’s film Putney Swope came out. It’s a fascinating and contemplative chat session, well worth watching, which gives you some idea of what it was like to grow up in the 1960s in the world of experimental cinema – a world now lost forever, but not lost to authentic recall.

View the clip by clicking here, or on the image above.

Ruby Dee – Actor and Activist – Dies at 91

Friday, June 12th, 2015

Here’s a superb tribute to the great Ruby Dee by Sarah Halzack of The Washington Post.

As Ms. Halzack wrote, in part, “Ruby Dee, an actress who defied segregation-era stereotypes by landing lead roles in movies and on Broadway while maintaining a second high-profile career as a civil rights advocate, including emceeing the 1963 March on Washington, died June 11 at her home in New Rochelle, N.Y. She was 91. In a career spanning seven decades, Ms. Dee was known for a quietly commanding presence opposite powerful leading men, including Sidney Poitier, Denzel Washington and James Earl Jones.

As a young woman, she won acclaim as a chauffeur’s steadfast wife in the Broadway and film versions of A Raisin in the Sun, starring Poitier, and then earned an Academy Award nomination for her supporting role as the mother of a drug kingpin played by Washington in American Gangster (2007).

In 1965, Ms. Dee became the first black actress to perform lead roles at the American Shakespeare Festival in Stratford, Conn., playing Kate in The Taming of the Shrew and Cordelia in King Lear. Moreover, critics consistently praised Ms. Dee’s ability to make the most demanding roles seem effortless. Off-Broadway in 1970, in Athol Fugard’s Boesman and Lena, she was commended for her searing portrayal of a South African woman beaten down by society and physically abused by her husband, played by Jones.

Ms. Dee’s marriage to actor and playwright Ossie Davis was widely regarded as one of Hollywood’s most enduring and romantic, lasting 56 years, until his death in 2005. The couple’s careers were deeply intertwined as they co-starred in films such as Do the Right Thing (1989) and Jungle Fever (1991), both directed by Spike Lee; collaborated on the comedic play Purlie Victorious, which Davis wrote and in which Ms. Dee starred on Broadway in 1961; and even partnered on a memoir, With Ossie and Ruby: In This Life Together.

When Ms. Dee and Davis received Kennedy Center Honors in 2004, it was said that they opened ‘many a door previously shut tight to African American artists and planted the seed for the flowering of America’s multicultural humanity.’ In 2008, Ms. Dee described the epitaph to Jet magazine: ‘If I leave any thought behind, it is that. We were in this thing together, so let’s love each other right now. Let’s make sense of things right now. Let’s make it count somehow right now, because we are in this thing together.’”

Ruby Dee – one of the most unforgettable actors in the history of the cinema.

Sir Christopher Lee Dies

Thursday, June 11th, 2015

The great British actor Sir Christopher Lee has died at the age of 93.

As Benjamin Lee wrote in perhaps the best of a host of tributes being offered this morning on Lee’s life and work, in The Guardian, “Sir Christopher Lee has died at the age of 93 after being hospitalised for respiratory problems and heart failure. The veteran actor, best known for a variety of films from Dracula to The Wicker Man through to the Lord of the Rings trilogy, passed away on Sunday morning at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital in London, according to sources. The decision to release the news days after was based on his wife’s desire to inform family members first. The couple had been married for over 50 years.

As well as his career in film, Lee also released a series of heavy metal albums, including Charlemagne: The Omens of Death. He was knighted in 2009 for services to drama and charity and was awarded the Bafta fellowship in 2011. His film career started in 1947 with a role in Gothic romance Corridor of Mirrors but it wasn’t until the late 50s, when Lee worked with Hammer, that he started gaining fame.

His first role with the studio was The Curse of Frankenstein and it was the first of 20 films that he made with Peter Cushing, who also became a close friend. ‘Hammer was an important part of my life, and generally speaking, we all had a lot of fun,’ he said in a 2001 interview.

Lee’s most famous role for Hammer was playing Dracula, a role which became one of his most widely recognized although the actor wasn’t pleased with how the character was treated. ‘They gave me nothing to do!’ he told Total Film in 2005. ‘I pleaded with Hammer to let me use some of the lines that Bram Stoker had written. Occasionally, I sneaked one in. Eventually I told them that I wasn’t going to play Dracula any more. All hell broke loose.’

In the 70s, Lee continued to gain fame in the horror genre with a role in The Wicker Man, a film which he considered to be his best. ‘Wonderful film… had a hell of a time getting it made,’ he said. ‘Its power lies in the fact that you never expect what eventually happens, because everyone is so nice.’ He went on to play a Bond villain in 1974’s The Man with the Golden Gun and turned down a role in Halloween, which he later said was one of biggest career regrets. In his career, he also turned down a role in Airplane!, something he also regretted.

His concern over being typecast in horror films led him to Hollywood and roles in Airport ‘77 and Steven Spielberg’s 1941. His career saw a resurgence in 2001 with a role as Saruman in the Lord of the Rings trilogy and then as Count Dooku in Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones and Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. He also became a regular collaborator with Tim Burton, who cast him in Sleepy Hollow, Corpse Bride, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Alice in Wonderland and Dark Shadows. Burton went on to award him with a Bafta fellowship.

In 2011, he returned to Hammer with a role in the Hilary Swank thriller The Resident although he generally tried to avoid the horror genre in later years. ‘There have been some absolutely ghastly films recently, physically repellent,’ he said. ‘What we did was fantasy, fairy tales – no real person can copy what we did. But they can do what Hannibal Lecter does, if they’re so inclined, people like Jeffrey Dahmer and Dennis Nilsen, and for that reason, I think such films are dangerous.’

After dabbling with music throughout much of his career, including a song on The Wicker Man soundtrack, Lee released his first full-length album Charlemagne: By the Sword and the Cross in 2010. It was well-received by the heavy metal community and won him the spirit of metal award at the 2010 Metal Hammer Golden Gods ceremony. His 2013 single Jingle Hell entered the Billboard Hot 100 at number 22, which made him the oldest living artist to ever enter the charts.

Lee still has one film yet to be released, the fantasy film Angels in Notting Hill, where he plays a godly figure who looks after the universe. He was also set to star in 9/11 drama The 11th opposite Uma Thurman but it’s believed that the film hadn’t yet started production. In an interview in 2013, Lee spoke about his love of acting. ‘Making films has never just been a job to me, it is my life,’ he said. ‘I have some interests outside of acting – I sing and I’ve written books, for instance – but acting is what keeps me going, it’s what I do, it gives life purpose.’”

Lee had a few thoughts about the film business and life in general, which are fairly acidic: on the film industry: “There are many vampires in the world today – you only have to think of the film business;” on fame: “In Britain, any degree of success is met with envy and resentment;” on Hammer Horror:”They gave me this great opportunity, made me a well-known face all over the world for which I am profoundly grateful;” on his craft: “I think acting is a mixture of instinct, imagination and inventiveness. All you can learn as an actor is basic technique.” And this final thought on acting: “Every actor has to make terrible films from time to time, but the trick is never to be terrible in them.”

Patton Oswalt’s Silver Screen Fiend – An Absolutely Brilliant Book

Monday, January 12th, 2015

Patton Oswalt’s new memoir about four years of incessant movie watching is an amazing book.

Silver Screen Fiend: Learning About Life from An Addiction to Film is one of the most astonishingly erudite, unpretentious, and accessible volumes on the history and lure of the cinema ever written. It reminds me very much of Geoffrey O’Brien’s equally brilliant, and equally whacked-out book The Phantom Empire: Movies in the Mind of the 20th Century, which traced the history of movies from the beginning to the end of the “film” era, before the advent of digital cinema. But Oswalt’s book really has two tracks; his manic devotion to films being screened at The New Beverly Theater (in particular), a rep house in Los Angeles which up until recently ran some of the most adventurous programming around – sort of like The Thalia in the New York in the 1980s – and his struggle to establish own career as a writer, stand up comedian, and actor.

Essentially a memoir of four years of binge movie watching, running the gamut from everything from Mr. Sardonicus to The Garden of the Finzi Continis with every imaginable stop in-between, from Spaghetti westerns to Hammer horror to Billy Wilder’s early films to Jean Cocteau’s luminous masterpiece Beauty and The Beast, Oswalt uses his manic consumption of images in the service of a larger consideration of what the true nature of cinephilia is, how it can become a religion, how most people have no idea what intense labor making a film is, and how they also don’t particularly like to pull films apart analytically, because it spoils the illusory nature of the spectacle they’ve just witnessed.

Along the way, there are considerations of Vincent Van Gogh, the craft of comedy and how it pays to hang around with people who are smarter than you are – all through your life – so you can pick up some real response to your material, as well an almost elegiac sense of time past and irrecoverable, along with the experience of watching a film in a theater, when now it’s so much easier -as this blog as pointed out time and time again – to watch them at home.

I’ve only recently come to know Oswalt’s work as a comedian, as in his recent stand up routine “Selling Out,” in which he describes playing a gig at a casino for an obscene amount of money during which he doesn’t even have to tell a single joke to earn his paycheck – all the audience wants to do is yell “King of Queens!” and “Ratatouille!” at him in a drunken stupor – King of Queens being a blue collar sitcom that Oswalt co-starred in for nine years, which simultaneously made him a small fortune, and also established his mainstream career.

But he’s really doing most of his interesting work on the margins, as all artists do, and his standup material is both dangerous and sharply observed – like the best of Louis C.K. – and Oswalt’s skills as a writer are formidable, a sort of gonzo endless riffing that simply won’t shut up, reeling off factoid after factoid, one film after another, in an endless genre mashup that eventually pushes him over the edge and back into the light, and out of the darkness of the movie theater, having learned what he needed to know from the movies before getting on with his life.

In the first pages of Silver Screen Fiend, Oswalt tells the reader that she or he doesn’t “have to follow me into the darkness” of the movie theater, but by the end, having come off a four-year run of nonstop film viewing, he reiterates the opening with a slight variation: “listen – you don’t have to follow me into the sunshine. Is this your first time seeing Sunset Boulevard and Ace in the Hole? By all means sit and see ‘em. They’re great. I envy your getting to watch them with new eyes. But take what you need from them  and get out of the dark once in a while. You’re going to have more of the dark than you can handle, sooner than you think. The thing about the dark is, it can never get enough of you.”

So in the end it’s a cautionary tale, just like O’Brien’s brilliant book, in which binge viewing films provides “minimal proof that you’re still alive.” And yet the dazzling brilliance of classic cinema – both high and low art, as if such distinctions really exist -  comes through in the pages of this volume full force, a world which seems to be vanishing into the realms of streaming and isolated viewing, and the cinematic community along with it.

I never expected someone like Oswalt to come along and write a book like this – it’s smart, assured, and as he would probably say, “it absolutely kills.” It jumps off the page, and I read it straight through in one sitting, and then bought some copies for friends. For people in their 20s, this would be a great place to start seriously thinking about films. It’s also the document of a personal voyage that’s both harrowing and illuminating. By the way, the front cover is a still from The Colossus of New York – another really odd, really fascinating piece of work – so this volume is full of surprises from beginning to end.

Patton Oswalt’s Silver Screen Fiend: Learning About Life from An Addiction to Film - check it out!

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 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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