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Tuesday, Jul 15, 2014
In Alain Robbe-Grillet's cinema, one ought to be wary of men who play games.

One doesn’t watch a movie by Alain Robbe-Grillet to follow a story, but to follow a false story. Cobbled from various impulses and ideas, they form pseudo-narratives that either encourage or defy viewers to make sense of their patterns.


In the interview included as a bonus to his 1968 feature The Man Who Lies, Robbe-Grillet explains that he was invited to make a film in Slovakia with lots of resources, that he wanted to create a showcase for actor Jean-Louis Trintignant (presumably for his means his physicality, his capacity for mercurial shifts, his gift for enigma), that a nearby castle (which they could use) had a woman waiting for her brother who disappeared in the World War II Resistance, and that Communist monuments to dead heroes were fabricated to include all kinds of villains as well. From these ideas, and from his fondness for Franz Kafka’s The Castle and Alexander Pushkin’s Boris Godunov, Robbe-Grillet constructed the web of references that form this movie.


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Monday, Jul 14, 2014
As with much art, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes signposts situations we'd otherwise ignore or try to avoid, provides insights, and provokes questions. This film, like all great art, is alive, vital, and transcendent.

We live in troubling times. All around us our examples of our inability to adapt while using technology and its tainted perks as a means of further escape. We claim victories over social ills (racism, economic inequality) where no triumphs truly exist and celebrate those who ride such unrealities all the way to a position of power. In these dark and disturbing days, a film like Dawn of the Planet of the Apes speaks louder than any pundit’s proclamations. As with much art, it reflects the era in which it was made. As with all art, it signposts situations we’d otherwise ignore or try to avoid, provides insights, and provokes questions. This film, like all great art, is alive, vital, and transcendent.


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Monday, Jul 14, 2014
Despite the film’s hipster soundtrack and depiction of twenty-something malaise, it ultimately embraces the human spirit and all of the sentimentality that goes with it.

The year was 2004. I was a freshman in high school, and I was on the cusp of discovering my passion for cinema. I ditched class on a Tuesday and snuck into the local theater to see Zach Braff’s Garden State with a friend, not knowing that this would change my life and convert me to the church of cinephilia.


For those who haven’t seen the film, it’s about Andrew Largeman (Braff), an emotionally detached 26 year old who returns to his hometown of New Jersey for his mother’s funeral after living in Los Angeles for ten years. Andrew intends to visit for a few a days, and in the process reconnects with old friends, struggles to resolve issues with his distant father (Ian Holm), and forms a romantic relationship with Sam (Portman), a local young woman with problems of her own.


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Friday, Jul 11, 2014
When coming of age movies are measured years from now, Boyhood will be the benchmark for artistic achievement and cinematic scope.

Our lives are made up of individual moments, parsed out over individual minutes over individual seconds which, in the end, always seem too short and sadly succinct. There’s no great story arc, just lots of little ones, each playing out among the various personality pros and cons we develop and scatter like so many dandelion seeds into the wind.


By the time we are old enough to realize it, we only remember the epics, the instances where things changed radically for better and worse. Births, deaths, degrees, achievements, jobs, kids, diseases, divorces—these are the buzzwords we use as we spin our time into something more meaningful. In the end, though, those individual moments fade, failing to resonate as powerfully as a performance or a passing, a problem or an epiphany.


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Thursday, Jul 10, 2014
Ruthless reveals a message about capitalism that, if ubiquitous, rings true.

Ruthless is an Eagle-Lion production that must be the most lavish project ever directed by Edgar Ulmer, who spent most of his career working with budgets that seemed barely to include the camera. Thematically, it’s his Citizen Kane or Magnificent Amberson, here seen in a fine print showing off sinuous and ceiling-heavy photography from Bert Glennon and lavish design from Frank Sylos. Unlike the aforementioned films, Ruthless is not great; however, it’s hard to take one’s eyes off of.


Tagged as: edgar ulmer, ruthless
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