Been thinking about “Keep On Pushing” since it played after Barack Obama’s speech. Luckily, Repsher unloaded an Impressions collection (not this one) on me years ago and it is getting heavy rotation.
How long until someone thought of this caption themselves? As a reminder. . .
Who isn’t excited about Barack Obama?
I’d like to upload more photos — I’ve got 2 nice batches to select some choice ones from (and I hope you are all aware that I do a LOT of editing before uploading) but the Democratic National Convention is going into full swing and I must watch C-Span.
Roomies Max Tabatt and Gabriella “Goober” Tabatt-Farrell hang out on the stairs waiting for the humidity to go away.
With his head behind one curtain, his tail behind the other, he becomes the Log of Goober.
and why does she keep following me?
Bryan is feted at Planet Thailand in Williamsburg.
Beth Cooper came just in time for tempura.
Matt Evans was there and cool as always. Alex Riss was there and insulted the waitstaff.
A chance meeting with Noah Vivekanand Timan before we all split for Italian Cheesecake in Greenpoint.
John R. Schmit set everything up. He is, to quote the man himself, the best at every thing.
Found on the front porch in Casa de Hoffman in New Jersey.
Call me the Christopher Hitchens of movie fanatics. I wish not to spit in your eye, beloved cineaste pantheon, but I must state: Zzzzzzzz. “L’Atalante” made me and my parents (neither of ‘em slouches either in the film buff category) antsy and squirm for the end. Not that it was altogether bad. . . just not that great. I argued that anything made in 1934 deserved some slack — mom then started to list the great films of the era that didn’t make us scratch our heads. The Papa Jules character was entertaining, but not enough to save this. I give this a gentleman’s “C” and now will take angry emails from the audience.
Hoffman dug deep into the closet of his old bedroom this weekend. Best were his middle school term papers. If I have the time I’ll scan in and upload a pdf of my brilliant treatise on The Vikings written in 1988.
The Last Metro meets The Cat’s Meow meets Those Who Love Me Can Take The Train meets Titanic with plenty of Italian opera, Serbian dancing and a sick, fetid rhinoceros to boot. This movie is absolutely fantastic and, I think, is the best of Feliini’s post-8 1/2 movies I’ve seen.
Fatty’s Cafe, despite the dumb name (it’s appropriate for a Jackson Hole Burger joint, but not this) continues to be my new favorite hangout. The backyard garden is quiet and lovely and there’s nothing on the menu over twelve dollars and the Scottish bartender is named Ziggy and her serves mojitos and Anchor Steam. What more could anyone want?
A boy. A racoon. An oil derrick. Obviously a recipe for a meaningful ethnographic film. Great shots of nature and industry. Acting, not so much.
Among the stranger movies I’ve ever seen, Gumnaan is part Agatha Christie murder mystery, part Bollywood musical comedy, part mid-60s LSD freak-out. The musical sequences are great fun (this is what Enid was watching at the beginning of Ghost World) and the alleged drama is fun for camp (Raja Nawathe never saw a reaction shot he didn’t like.) Mehmood, the comic actor in the delightful Padosan and 9 million other Hindi films, as the Rowan Atkinson-esque wacky butler, while completely out of place, is nonetheless welcome.
I success of Will Smith’s movie has inspired me to dig deep in the vault and play this one over and over again.
The choir was preached to well tonight at the Film Forum. Chuckles, snorts, gasps and self-righteous applause were heard throughout. That and the 145 minute running time (which seemed much longer) made me wish I’d done what I thought I was going to do — wait for the DVD. Still, a well made movie that makes many good points and cries out desperately for an ombudsman at others. Michael Moore is here acting as comic relief (the man may’ve had a more lucrative career in standup and sitcoms) as is a bunch of other top shelf lefties any reader of “The Nation” is well familiar with. Which brings me to a point: this movie really lays out the overwhelming power cinema has, as well as its flaws. Nearly everything in The Corporation has been written about in the aforementioned Nation magazine and Harper’s (and no doubt other lefty journals; I only read those two.) To actually see images, to hear voices talking about it, to experience the miracle of montage and sound effects and music drives a story home in a way that no muckraking five pages of print can. However, in those five pages lies a depth of inquiry and (in many cases) an understanding of all sides surrounding an issue. I left The Corporation all pumped up in a way I rarely am when I put down a magazine, but I also felt bombarded, spun around and, ultimately, asking more questions.
I just finished watching Season 2 of “The West Wing.” They killed off Mrs. Landingham which is good ’cause she was kinda redundant. But if I wanted to read into it (and “The West Wing” is, for the most part, good enough to want to read into) her death represents President Bartlett’s final severence with his New Hampshire past and his Clinton-esque legal troubles represent his wholehearted acceptance of Washington politics. I’m only 4 seasons behind, but I can’t wait for Season 3 to be released on DVD.
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