The Screengrab : david byrne

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Andrew Osborne — Sun, 31 May 2009 14:12:00 GMT

Andrew Osborne Reviews T.V. Party: The Documentary

Phil Nugent's "Don't Forget The Flaming Arrows!"

Paul Clark Promises Famous Last Words To Return!

Scott Von Doviak Reviews Sons Of A Gun

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Screengrab's Favorite Movies About Music: Fiction Edition (Part Three)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 21:00:00 GMT

TRUE STORIES (1986)

In a recent interview on The Colbert Report, David Byrne admitted that edgy artists like himself often fear being normal and that while he’s “getting over it” now, there was a time when he was neurotic about enjoying ordinary things or being like everyone else. This brainy misfit’s ambivalence about the straight world enlivens the companion film of the 1986 Talking Heads album True Stories...or maybe the album was the companion to Byrne’s directorial debut about a small Texas town’s sesquicentennial “Celebration of Special-ness,” where the inhabitants (played by John Goodman, Swoosie Kurtz and fellow misfit Spalding Gray, among others) are viewed from a bemused, extraterrestrial distance by Byrne’s Our Town-ish narrator, who may or may not find the “common folk” around him fascinating, ridiculous, contemptible, endearing, inspiring and/or weirder than himself. It perhaps speaks to Byrne’s singular creative vision that I’ve never really seen another movie quite like True Stories, what with its largely plotless structure, catchy musical numbers (including the anthemic “Wild, Wild Life”) and dreamy visuals of late-night traffic stops, avant-garde fashions and a big stage in the middle of the desert where everyone, ultimately, seems welcome to fret and strut...unless the whole thing is really just an elaborate performance art put-on, full of sound and irony, signifying nothing.

THE HARDER THEY COME (1972)

The first feature made in Jamaica (by the late director Perry Henzell) stars Jimmy Cliff as an aspiring pop star who winds up on the run with a gun in his hand, which turns out to be an excellent career move. This movie didn't attract much attention at first when it opened in the States, but when it hit as a long-running midnight movie, its influence turned out to be lasting and deep, especially when its soundtrack album, featuring classics by the Maytals, the Melodians, and Desmond Dekker as well as four new songs by Cliff, instantly became everybody's favorite compact reggae sampler. The film itself captures a world never before seen on film: a sun-baked lanscape where people who dress in bright Pop-Art colors live in squalid poverty row landscapes, so that it makes a kind of sense that someone could cross over from aspiring singer to public enemy number one as easily as crossing the street.

PAYDAY (1973)

Rip Torn makes the most of his rare starring role as Maury Dann, a country music celebrity crossing the country one low-rent concert date at a time in a two-car caravan. Directed by Daryl Duke from an original script by the novelist Don Carpenter, this movie doesn't exactly celebrate music or the musician's life: nobody would have bought the soundtrack album, if the studio had bothered to release one. But it's just about peerless as a snapshot of the second- or third-tier musician's life at its least rewarding. The expert supporting cast includes one of the long-lost great character actresses of the '70s, Ahna Capri, perfectly cast as the one mistress likely to not only stand up to Torn but finally push him too far.

SONGWRITER (1984)

Bud Shrake, the sportswriter and journalist who later co-wrote Willie Nelson's autobiography, cooked up this script for Nelson and Kris Kristofferson to star in; a comic celebration of the sagacity and self-preservation skills of a uniquely self-reliant and unstable race of people, it looks as if Shrake and his buds had read one too many references in the music press to country music "outlaws" and thought, You want outlaws, I'll give you outlaws. The film is also graced with one of the funniest of Rip Torn's wild man turns as a bearded music promoter who is not above armed robbery when his attempts to collect all the money in the surrounding area through less threatening means of persuasion prove unsuccessful. The only way this movie could be more entertaining would be if Torn's character had been able to face off against his character from Payday in a steel cage death match.

BANDWAGON (1996)

Ah, to be young and naive and forming a band for the first time! John Schultz, who has made nothing but bottom-feeding Hollywood dreck ever since, directed this film about young people who are a little naive and the band they form and take on the road. Kevin "If I'm In It, It Debuted At Sundance" Corrigan and Doug "Lead Singer of the Connells" MacMillan are about as close as this movie gets to having name actors. It has the common problems of many a little debut indie film, such as amateurish actors and an occasional loss of focus. These are all forgiveable sins. The way that Schultz captures the feeling of the road is inspired and obviously the result of hard-earned wisdom. There's the initial thrill, then the frustration of playing gigs for not quite enough people to call your audience a "handful," the sheer pleasure of making music, the growing realization that you can't stand some of the people you make music with, the tedium, the smell, the damn van that keeps breaking down, the poverty, the ashtrays, floors, dirty clothes, and filthy jokes. Makes one grow nostalgic, is what it does. Schultz was the original drummer of The Connells, and I realize that I should explain that The Connells were (or are? Are they still a going concern?) a North Carolina-based indie rock band who produced a fine string of power pop albums throughout the '80s and into the '90s. I don't think it's a stretch to say that Bandwagon is the result of his time on the road with his band. Anyway, the plot is simple: Tony has written some songs about a girl named Ann. Tony and some acquaintances put a band together and go on tour. A record label is interested in them, but they are a little dubious. There's some lovely details along the way, such as Tony's stage fright, which leads him to play with his back to the audience. When Corrigan's character Wynn gets upset, he wants to go fishing, anywhere and now. The purely symbolic act of placing a guitar on train tracks has the sudden and obvious conclusion. When Ann shows up, she likes Tony's most obnoxious bandmate more than him. Great stuff, and sadly hard-to-find at the moment.

Click Here For Part One, Two, Four & Five

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Phil Nugent, Hayden Childs

Screengrab's Favorite Movies About Music: Non-Fiction Edition (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 20:00:00 GMT

A few weeks back, I claimed the period from New Year's to Oscar Night was the most wonderful time of the year for movie geeks, what with all the Best-Of Lists and awards season festivities...but for movie AND music geeks (not to mention the small but powerful barbecue geek lobby), there is no better place or time than mid-March in sunny Austin, when the South-By-Southwest Festival unleashes 1,800 bands from around the world on the capital of Texas, along with several zillion filmmakers, wannabes, hucksters, tourists, web designers, Industry sleazeballs and bloggers (including yours truly, my esteemed colleagues Scott Von Doviak, Hayden Childs, Leonard Pierce and, heck, maybe half the Nerve.com staff for all I know...see you at the Yard Dog, guys)!

Thus, in celebration of SXSW’s yearly combo of films & fretboards, your pals here at the Screengrab are launching a two-week tribute to OUR ALL-TIME FAVORITE MOVIES ABOUT MUSIC!

Andrew Osborne’s Favorites:

IMAGINE (1988)

As far as I can remember, the first pop song I ever knew by heart was “Yellow Submarine” -- well, the chorus, anyway, which my brother and me would sing endlessly to the delight (and eventually, I’m sure, to the ear-piercing annoyance of) my parents on numerous long car trips throughout the early ‘70s. So I guess that would make the Beatles my first favorite band...and brilliant, heroic, sarcastic, acerbic, mean, funny, shit-stirring, peace-loving John was always my favorite Beatle (even if he didn’t lend his voice to his cartoon incarnation in the film version of Submarine...a deeply disillusioning trivia fact I’ve been trying to erase from my brain through strategic drinking ever since I learned it). My hipster college roommate cried conspicuously on the fifth anniversary of Lennon’s death (and possibly every year since), whereas I save my tears over the Smart One’s tragically premature and sinfully meaningless demise for periodic viewings of Andrew Solt’s warts-and-all (but ultimately loving) tribute, Imagine (allegedly released in part to counteract the warts-and-nothing-else Lennon biography published by icky toad Albert Goldman the same year). Narrated by Lennon himself, the film chronicles the life and times (and music and feuds and love affairs and political activism) of its subject while evoking the spirit of the 1960s and 1970s far more effectively than a certain reverse-aging button enthusiast I could mention...I only wish Solt's documentary had a better ending.

BIG TIME (1988)

I may have started off loving the Beatles, but after that my tastes wandered from the pop and rock aisles to the musical theater section. Thankfully, my cooler friends were kind enough to broaden my horizons just in time for adolescence with an endless series of mix-tapes, bringing me up to speed on punk, New Wave and, eventually, the one-man genre known as Tom Waits. As it happened, I became a fan smack dab in the midst of Waits' Island years, when he was recording the game-changing trilogy of albums (Swordfishtrombones, Rain Dogs & Frank’s Wild Years) considered by many to be the high-water mark of the singer/songwriter/Conundrummer’s more or less consistently brilliant career...and so I was in exactly the right place at exactly the right moment to catch the Boston stop of the tour captured (or, more specifically, reimagined) in Chris Blum’s barking, bantering concert film Big Time, which depicts Waits both onstage and wandering the periphery as Frank, the mysterious, muttering song character who infamously doused his house in gasoline and torched it, then got on the Hollywood Freeway headed North (and some time later, apparently, wound up working as an usher in a creepy old vaudeville house). Unfortunately, I had to leave that long-ago Boston concert halfway through to get to a stupid play rehearsal (...stupid! ...stupid! ...stupid!), little knowing I wouldn’t get to see Waits in the flesh again for 20+ years (and counting): in the ‘90s, I kept leaving cities just before Waits’ tour arrived in them, and here in the oughts, his infrequent tour stops always seem to be far, far away. So until I finally manage to track the man down again, Big Time will have to do.

STOP MAKING SENSE (1984)

The first time Talking Heads entered my consciousness was on the soundtrack of Risky Business, growling the dirty stomp of “Swamp” over scenes of teen sex in Tom Cruise’s suburban bordello. Shortly thereafter but around the same period, I put a face to the distinctive voice...specifically David Byrne’s weird moony face projected on the side of a house and the dotted white line of a highway in the wicked pissa video for “Burning Down The House” (back when videos were wicked pissa and MTV wasn’t a 24/7 suck-fest). Then, a year later, Jonathan Demme's Stop Making Sense finally gave me a full dose of Talking Heads (thus hooking me on the band for a lot longer than the band stayed hooked on each other). I never got a chance to see David, Tina, Chris & Jerry play live -- not all at the same time, anyway -- but dancing in the aisles with dozens of fellow Head-heads during the classic concert film’s theatrical run was the next best thing...kinda like Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience without the special glasses and shitty music. Indeed, Demme makes his subjects pop off the screen without 3D technology, pyrotechnics or any of the usual rock-doc clichés: all he needed was a lamp, a big suit, a good shot list and one of the best rock bands of all time.

WOODSTOCK (1970)

In the 1971 film The Omega Man, not-quite-last-man-alive Charlton Heston spends his lonely days in a post-apocalyptic Los Angeles watching Michael Wadleigh’s super-size documentary of the mother of all concerts again and again...and, frankly, if I wind up being the sole survivor when the world ends in 2012, I’d be pretty psyched to find Woodstock in the projector of my local movie house. For one thing, it’s 184 minutes long (or roughly one hour for each of the three days of peace and music it chronicles)...and the special director’s cut released in 1994 contains an additional 40 minutes of still yet more peace, music and damn, dirty hippies. But what makes Woodstock perfect for repeat viewings is how much Wadleigh and his editors (including Martin Scorsese and BFF Thelma Schoonmaker) pack into the running time, using split-screen sensory overload to capture every conceivable angle of the epochal event, from the iconic onstage performances by Jimi, Joan, Joe, Country Joe, Richie, Arlo and the surprisingly awesome Sha Na Na (among many, many others) to the brown acid, Porta-Potty maintenance and holy-shit meltdowns of the poor bastards trying to keep the whole event from spiraling into the sort of madness and catastrophe captured by the Maysles Brothers and Charlotte Zwerin in 1970’s other notable concert documentary, Gimme Shelter, the yang to Woodstock’s yin and definitely not the sort of movie likely to cheer you up in an empty theater surrounded by killer mutants.

Click Here For Part Two, Three, Four, Five, Six & Seven

Contributor: Andrew Osborne

OST: "Stop Making Sense"

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 22:30:00 GMT

There's one great problem with making a concert film: if the audience doesn't respond positively to the music, no amount of great filmmaking is going to save it. Documentaries about bands are one thing; if there's a good story to tell, an audience might just forgive the band in the spotlight for making music they dont' particularly care for. But in a concert film, with very little to contemplate but the action on stage, if the moviegoers aren't compelled by the music that's being made, that's pretty much all she wrote. With some concert films, such as Woodstock, there's enough historical portent to the whole affair that it gets carried along; that film also had the benefit of multiple bands to take the pressure off. With other films, such as the Maysles Brothers' Gimme Shelter, there's the power of a compelling story to alleviate the fact that you might not especially dig the Rolling Stones at their stage in their career: what was going on all around them was more than enough to compensate for any distaste you might have for the music coming out of the speakers. With Jonathan Demme's beautiful, moving, nearly perfect 1984 concert film Stop Making Sense, though, Demme was taking a huge risk: he presented no story, no history, no audience, no variance, no nothing: just the pure experience of watching the Talking Heads play.

It could have been a disaster. Although they were one of the most successful of the bands to come out of the New York punk scene (they even raised the money to shoot the film themselves), Talking Heads were, then as now, not to everyone's taste. Their nervy, edgy blend of no wave, funk, and ice-cold electronic pop turned off a lot of people, as did lead singer David Byrne's otherworldly geekiness, which made him come across as even more alien than David Bowie, but with none of Bowie's cool. And although the band, touring behind their then-new album Speaking in Tongues, went on to have a number of high-profile hits, at the time it was a big risk, both for them and for their record label, to sink so much money and time into a full-length concert documentary with no guaranteed audience. But it wasn't a disaster: Stop Making Sense was, and is, quite simply the greatest concert film ever made, the purest and simplest evocation imaginable of the sheer joy of watching a band at the top of their game play an amazing show in a live setting. It's that rare exception to the rule: even those who weren't particular fans of the Talking Heads found themselves instantly swept away by the sheer charisma and intensity of the performers. The movie that Jonathan Demme made at such risk became the gold standard to which all concert films are held.

How did he do it? Partly through redefining the rules of concert films, and partly through sheer technical innovation. The movie is structually brilliant, most notably in the device of having David Byrne come out alone for the first track and having him joined on each subsequent number by another band member until the whole outfit is powerfully lockstepped on stage. Demme also uses an all-digital soundtrack -- unheard of at the time -- and a number of innovative lighting techniques to showcase the band and fulfill Byrne's request that the standard array of colored lights not be used. Finally, he wisely chooses to show the audience as little as possible and reduce the crowd noise on the skillfully mixed soundtrack; this replicates to an uncanny degree the experience of actually being at a show, and the movie's choice of long shots over quick takes emulates the visual experience of live music for most people. But, of course, he couldn't have done it without the cooperation of a band at the peak of their powers; Byrne worked with him all the way, and Talking Heads were at their creative peak and their chops had been honed by constant touring. They even tossed in a few ringers -- especially Parliament/Funkadelic sidement Bernie Worrell and Steve Scales -- to fill out the sound. Byrne provided the movie with its visual hook by donning a Joseph-Beuys-influenced white suit about five sizes too big, and the band plays as if there's nothing in the whole wide world they'd rather be doing. It all adds up to a singularly transcendent experience, almost entirely without peer in the history of musical cinema.

BEST TRACKS: There simply isn't a bad track here, and whether you pick up the original or the expanded version of the soundtrack to Stop Making Sense, you're going to get an album full of winners. Even divorced from the wonderful visuals, this is one of the finest live music documents you can buy, and it's crammed with great songs from beginning to end. To name three favorites, though, I'd mention the opening rendition of "Psycho Killer" with Byrne, alone on an acoustic guitar, accompanied by an off-state Roland 808 synthesizer which he cleverly disguises as a battery-operated boom box; an edgy, high-energy rendition of "Girlfriend is Better" which lends the film its name; and the glorious version of "Once in a Lifetime" which may be the single greatest bit of concert footage ever recorded on film.

Related Posts:

OST: Krush Groove

OST: Repo Man

Set Your DVR!: November 3 - 10, 2008

Hayden Childs — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 16:00:00 GMT

Whew! I'm happy that the Halloween season is over! I watched a ton of great movies, but I have horror fatigue. Let's see what the next week has to offer. There's some world-class movies on TV this week!

Mon, Nov 3:

10:30/11:30 am: The Man From Laramie on TCM. Anthony Mann Western with James Stewart. Not the best Mann Western, but it’ll do.

4:15/5:15 pm: I Am David on IFC. Paul “Freaks & Geeks” Feig directs a completely unfunny and somewhat mawkish film about a boy who escapes a Stalinist concentration camp and learns to love. Feig is awesome, but this movie is not. Consider this a warning.

7/8 pm: True Stories on VH1CL. David Byrne’s labor of love, a deliberately quirky look at America from one of its deliberately quirky pop culture figures.

8/9 pm: Me and You and Everyone We Know on IFC (repeat 11/4 at 12/1 am). Miranda July is cute and a little alienating. John Hawkes learned from Deadwood the fine art of saying everything he has to say with his eyebrows. Somehow, despite the nearly lethal levels of kookiness, July has made a movie with an enormous amount of heart.

Tues, Nov 4:

UPDATED!

9:05/10:05 am: The F Word on IFC (repeat at 4:05/5:05 pm). Catch the Screengrab's own Andrew Osborne as the character mysteriously named "Andrew!" Thanks to Scott Von D for the hat tip.

10:30/11:30 am: Grand Theft Parsons on IFC (repeat at 5:30/6:30 pm and on 11/5 at 4:55/5:55 am). Not a great movie, but it's about the untimely demise of Gram Parsons and what happened thereafter.

7/8 pm Decision at Sundown on TCM. Budd Boetticher and Randolph Scott in a taut little no-budget Western. Not the best of their collaborations, but it's decent.

Wed, Nov 5:

9/10 am: The Straight Story on FX. David Lynch's G-rated film about an aging man who travels via lawnmower to make amends with his long-estranged brother. It's utterly fantastic.

11:30 am/12:30 pm: Burden of Dream on IFC. Les Blank's documentary about Werner Herzog's maddening attempts to make Fitzcarraldo. This is the rare film where the making-of documentary is better than the fiction. If you haven't seen it, this is essential viewing. You will reach the other side in greater awe of Herzog, nature, Kinski, madness, and the folly of human ambition.

12:30/1:30 pm: The Blue Gardenia on TCM. A scalding film noir by Fritz Lang.

8/9 pm: 24 Hour Party People on IFC (repeat on 11/6 at 12/1 am). Some of the Factory Records bands are stunning, and some (The Happy Mondays in particular) are dull and overrated. But Tony Wilson was mesmerizing, and Michael Winterbottom's postmodern bio makes the case for his greatness.

10/11 pm: The Filth and the Fury on IFC (repeat on 11/6 at 2/3 am). If you're curious about the Sex Pistols, this is the definitive documentary.

Thurs, Nov 6:

1:45/2:45 pm: The Awful Truth on TCM. Pretty much the greatest screwball comedy.

5:05/6:05 pm: Ride with the Devil on IFC (repeat on 11/7 at 4:40/5:40 am). Ang Lee's odd Civil War drama where everybody's on the wrong side of history.

Fri, Nov 7:

8/9 am: Heavenly Creatures on LOGO. Before the Lord of the Rings, Peter Jackson directed this movie about the intensity of fantasy in a teenage friendship and the lengths to which two girls actually went (this is based on a true story) to keep themselves together.

Sat, Nov 8:

12:15/1:15 am: La Jetee on TCM. This is the best movie I've recommended yet, and it's only 28 minutes long. I recommend watching it twice in a row, then waiting two weeks and watching it again. See what you remember about it. Watch Vertigo again in the meantime.

1/2 am: The Trip on TCM. This is, like, whoa. And then you'll be all what? And then, man, like, you know, then, you'll get it. And you'll be all really? But you'll know.

7/8 am: Sanshiro Sugata II on IFC. Kurosawa's third film, the sequel to his first. The climactic scene is scarred pretty badly, but Kurosawa's eye is as sharp as ever.

9:30/10:30 am: Picnic at Hanging Rock on IFC (repeat at 4:15/5:15 pm and on 11/9 at 4/5 am). Peter Weir's second feature film, this is an existential horror film. Several girls and a teacher disappear on an outing to Hanging Rock. One girl turns up mysteriously days later. The disparity between the proper Victorian British and the great untamed Australian Outback serves to heighten the oddness of this movie.

Sun, Nov 9:

7/8 am: Amarcord on IFC. The most felliniesque of Fellini films. One of his last major films. I have never thought it was as good as 8 1/2, but it still packs a punch.

9:05/10:05 am: Umberto D on IFC. De Sica's neorealist classic about an old man cast aside by society. Prepare for tears and a greater awareness of the plight of the elderly. You'll never be able to name a dog "Flike."

9:15/10:15 am: The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek on TCM. What a conundrum! Umberto D and The Miracle of Morgan's Creek playing at the same time! This is a fantastic, censor-baiting Preston Sturges comedy. Eddie Bracken may not be the greatest male lead ever, but the jokes come hard and fast.

1:15/2:15 pm: The Cars That Ate Paris on IFC. Peter Weir's first feature film. I've never seen it, but it's bound to be interesting.

8/9 pm: Wild at Heart on IFC (repeat on 11/10 at 2/3 am). This may be David Lynch's worst film. Or maybe it's the one with Sting. Hard to say, but there's still something worthwhile in each.

Mon, Nov 10:

8:20/9:20 am: The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years on IFC (repeat at 3/4 pm). Don't let too many years pass without watching Ozzy make breakfast.

2:45/3:45 pm: Becket on TCM. It's Oscar-bait, sure, but not a bad movie.

Set Your DVR!: October 27 - November 3, 2008

Hayden Childs — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Halloween week means more vintage horror! TCM in particular is even exceeding their own high standards this week, shoehorning in a night of Billy Wilder on Tuesday (nothing is recommended because everything is fairly well-known) and a few film noir classics on Wednesday before cranking up the scary on Thursday. As always, let me know in comments if you see something I shouldn’t have missed!

Mon, Oct 27:

11 am/12 pm: An American Werewolf in London on AMC. As I said last week, it’s not a great movie, but it has a few iconic scenes.

Tues, Oct 28:

5/6 am: The Invisible Man on AMC. Based on Ralph Ellison’s classic novel of race in America... whoops, that’s not right. No one’s ever made that movie. This is James Whale’s classic horror film starring Claude Rains.

6:45/7:45 am: Bride of Frankenstein on AMC. And this is James Whale’s frankenlady movie.

7/8 am: The Desperate Hours on TCM. Neat little thriller about convicts on the lam starring Humphrey Bogart.

11 pm/12 am: An American Werewolf in London on AMC. Repeat.

Wed, Oct 29:

1/2 pm: An American Werewolf in London on AMC. Repeat. Last time I’m going to mention it, in fact.

7/8 pm: Murder, My Sweet on TCM. Killer adaptation of Raymond Chandler’s Farewell, My Lovely.

10:45/11:45 pm: Out of the Past on TCM. Film noir classic with Robert Mitchum and Kirk Douglas. Directed by Jacques Tourneur, who also made three of the Val Lewton-produced no-budget horror films we’re recommending this week.

Thurs, Oct 30:

12:30/1:30 am: They Live By Night on TCM. Earlier movie based on the same source material as Robert Altman’s Thieves Like Us, which is one of his most underappreciated movies.

3/4 am: House of Wax on CHILLER. Vincent Price’s classic. Note: You will not see Paris Hilton in this movie.

3:45/4:45 am: The Thing From Another World on TCM. Howard Hawks directing an early sci-fi/horror movie. The John Carpenter movie The Thing was a remake.

6:30/7:30 am: The Beast with Five Fingers on TCM. FIVE WHOLE FINGERS! YAAAAAARGH!

7:30/8:30 am: 8 Women on LOGO. Francois Ozon assembles every major French actress of our time for a half-musical/half-murder mystery.

8/9 am: I Walked With A Zombie on TCM. Jacques Tourneur doing horror on a Val Lewton production.

9:15/10:15 am: Curse of the Demon on TCM. Recut version of the horror film Night of the Demon. Directed by Jacques Tourneur applying what he has learned from doing horror on Val Lewton productions.

10:45/11:45 am: Gerry on IFC (repeat at 4/5 pm and on 11/31 at 4:10/5:10 am). I just keep recommending it!

5:30/6:30 pm: House of Usher on TCM. Roger Corman! Vincent Price! Edgar Allan Poe! You might be surprised to learn that this is a tender romantic comedy.

7/8 pm: Dead of Night on TCM. Creepy little horror anthology from Ealing Studios. And no Sir Alec Guinness to be found!

Fri, Oct 31:

A quick note: TCM owns Halloween programming. You can’t go wrong with anything they’re showing all day.

1/2 am: Kwaidan on TCM. A beloved Japanese horror anthology.

3:45/4:45: Spirits of the Dead on TCM. A triptych of short films from Roger Vadim, Louis Malle, and Federico Fellini (which of these names is not like the others?). I’ve never seen it, but the cast of Jane Fonda, Brigitte Bardot, Terence Stamp, and Alain Delon sounds promising.

6:30/7:30 am: Cat People on TCM. More Lewton & Tourneur!

7/8 am: The Honeymoon Killers on IFC. Still brilliant, still vile.

8/9 am: Freaks on TCM.

8:30/9:30 am: Halloween on AMC. Halloween? Hasn’t everyone seen this? I suspect that some people have forgotten how effective it is with almost no budget and no special effects.

9:15/10:15 am: The Devil Doll on TCM. How many ways can I say “creepy”? This one’s directed by the creator of Freaks, Tod Browning.

2:30/3:30 pm: The Body Snatcher on TCM. More Val Lewton! With Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi!

4/5 pm: Bedlam on TCM. And even more Val Lewton! This one’s with just Karloff.

7/8 pm: The Host on G4. Korean horror movie with great special effects and a cruel sense of humor.

Sat, Nov 1:

1/2 am: The Host on G4 (repeats at 11/12 am).

1:30/2:30 am: Blood Feast on TCM. Things start getting ugly overnight at TCM. This is a challenger to Plan 9 From Outer Space for the coveted Worst Movie Ever award. Highly recommended! Directed by Herschell Gordon Lewis, whom you can read more about in our very own Scott Von Doviak’s excellent book Hick Flicks, which is a perfect stocking-stuffer for the film geek in your family.

2:45/3:45 am: 2,000 Maniacs on TCM. A follow-up to Blood Feast. I understand that the name is misleading, as Lewis only had to budget for 1,986 maniacs.

3/4 am: The Blob on CHILLER (Repeat at 6:00 am/7:00 am). Steve McQueen in the no-budget flick that might just be a parable about the insidious effects of CREEPING COMMUNISM! BOOGA BOOGA! Starring Barack Obama’s tax policies as The Blob and Sarah Palin as the small-town mayor who knows how to stop it. If only the people will listen!

5:15/6:15 am: Forbidden Planet on TCM. Ah, the horror is starting to subside. What better way to recover than a movie that puts Shakespeare’s The Tempest in space?

7/8 am: My Darling Clementine on AMC. One of the finest classic Westerns of all time. Starring Henry Fonda and directed by John Ford.

7/8 am: Sanshiro Sugata on IFC. Akira Kurosawa’s first film, this is a standard issue wuxia film in terms of plot and progression, but with Kurosawa’s unerring eye behind the lens, there’s moments of stunning beauty to be found. Unreleased on DVD, and a must for Kurosawa fanatics.

9:30/10:30 am: The Last Wave on IFC (repeat at 2:45/3:45 pm). Richard Chamberlain’s most shocking role (in which discernible acting can be detected!) about apocalyptic aboriginal weirdness in Australia. Directed by Peter Weir.

Sun, Nov 2:

Happy birthday to my mom and my brother-in-law Jeff!

7/8 am: Solaris on IFC. This is the Tarkovsky original, not the Soderbergh remake. A deeply sad, meditative movie about love and self and Otherness. I’m being purposely vague, but this review is only two sentences, and this movie deserves much more than that.

8:30/9:30 am: Macbeth on TCM. Orson Welles’s Macbeth with the bad accents and great filmmaking.

5:35/6:35 pm: The New World on IFC. Terrence Malick’s film about how struggle defines all human relationships, despite the transcendental indifference of nature. Did I just write that? This is easily one of the best films of the last decade, so just watch it.

8/9 pm: The Proposition on IFC (repeat on 11/3 at 1:15/2:15 am). John Hillcoat’s Aussie Western written by Nick Cave. It wants to be a Peckinpah movie, but it’s not even a Boetticher. That’s not to say it’s worthless, but it bites off more than it can chew. Hillcoat’s the director of the upcoming adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, which I hope is better than this.

9:45/10:45 pm: The Year of Living Dangerously on TCM. Remember when Mel Gibson could act? Good times. Oh, ok. This is most definitely not a good time. Directed by Peter Weir.

11 pm/12 am (11/3): True Stories on VH1CL (repeat on 11/3 at 7/8 pm). It’s not a good movie, but it’s fun. This is David Byrne’s labor of love, a deliberately quirky look at America from one of its deliberately quirky pop culture figures. The Talking Heads songs aren’t their best, but they’re pretty good, and pretty good looks good from here.

Mon, Nov 3:

3/4 am: Isle of the Dead on CHILLER. Another Val Lewton production! Why is it on after Halloween? Apparently CHILLER has started the Halloween 2009 season early.

5:05/6:05 am: Tom Dowd & the Language of Music on IFC (repeat at 12:30/1:30 pm). Delightful documentary about the man with the golden ear who flawlessly recorded some of the greats of 20th century music.

10:05/11:05 am: The New World on IFC. Repeat.

10:30/11:30 am: The Man From Laramie on TCM. Anthony Mann Western with James Stewart. Not the best Mann Western, but it’ll do.

8/9 pm: Me and You and Everyone We Know on IFC (repeat 11/4 at 12/1 am). Miranda July is cute and a little alienating. John Hawkes learned from Deadwood the fine art of saying everything he has to say with his eyebrows. Somehow, despite the nearly lethal levels of quirk, July has made a movie with an enormous amount of heart.

The Rep Report, May 9-15

Phil Nugent — Thu, 08 May 2008 16:00:00 GMT

NEW YORK: One of America's finest cinematographers, and an artist notable both for his consistent record of excellence and a range so vast that he seems to have none of the overworked favorite tics that often make it easier for a cameraman to develop a reputation based on his easily identifiable "style", Ed Lachman gets his , running from May 9 through the 20th. The schedule, which includes Lachman's playful vision of downtown New York in the mid-1980s as a punk playground for Susan Seidelman's Desperately Seeking Susan, his harder-edged view of the city in Paul Schrader's nocturnal Light Sleeper, David Byrne's tour of the malls of middle America True Stories, and the Dylan kaleidoscope I'm Not There, kicks off with a screening of one of Lachman's rare directing jobs (in collaboration with Larry Clark), the controversial 2002 Ken Park, which has never been picked up for distribution.

The 24th Annual Boston Gay and Lesbian Film Festival opened last night and runs through May 18 at the Museum of Fine Arts. Among the most buzzed-about films included in the 24 programs include Dominique Cardona and Laurie Albert’s Finn' Girl, the documentary Black, White + Grey, which profiles the photography buff and Robert Mapplethorpe patron Sam Wagstaff, and Russell Marleu's The Curiosity of Chance.

“There Will Be Blood” Under the Marfa Lights

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 15:00:00 GMT

For as long as anyone can remember, Marfa, Texas has been known for two things. It’s the home of the Marfa Lights, those mysterious glowing blobs that could be paranormal entities, swamp gas or car headlights, depending on who you ask. And it’s the little town where George Stevens, James Dean and Elizabeth Taylor made Giant more than fifty years ago.

In the last year or so, however, Marfa has enhanced its cinematic pedigree considerably. Both No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood were shot there, accounting for 40 percent of your 2007 Best Picture nominees, 16 nominations total, and six Oscars between them. Yet Marfa doesn’t even have its own movie theater.

Starting May 1st, however, it does have its own film festival. The first annual Marfa Film Festival will open with a screening of There Will Be Blood on the set where it was made, “just south of Marfa on the McGuire Ranch. Though some small parts of the set will remain after the event, the town (where we will screen) will soon be torn down, as the West Texas winds are already taking their toll on the scenic construction.” The closing night film on May 5th will be The Last Movie, Dennis Hopper’s notorious follow-up to Easy Rider, which Hopper will present in person. This will apparently be his first return to Marfa since shooting Giant.

The rest of the festival selections range from Texas-shot documentaries recently screened at SXSW (including Crawford and Tulia, Texas) to David Byrne’s Texas-lensed 1986 feature True Stories to films with no Texas connection at all, like the 1961 British horror classic The Innocents. The festival will also feature the world premiere to what may be the least likely sequel of all-time: Okie Noodling 2, the follow-up to the 2001 documentary about hillbillies who pull giant catfish out of holes with their hands. Apparently there’s even more to learn about this bizarre tradition, and I, for one, am intrigued.

You can check out the rest of the schedule and buy tickets here.