| | Current Music: | ben klock | | Security: | | | Subject: | выныриваем... | | Time: | 12:29 am |
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| ...and siphoning through the blowhole of rage!
будут наказаны:
- honore for "dans paris" - as suspected, striving for drama and cuteness and inventiveness; a pale shadow if not caricature for everything dear. there, there, you garrel baby-boy, let me caress that furrowed brow - daddy will take you back for another masterpiece - until then stay away from tedious bores that feed on dried corpses of pop culture. maybe i should not have watched chantal on chantal right before that; and come to think of it - i missed a (renewed) reading at 11th st bar for this!
- lpr for their atrocities against sound - i've been to a dozen shows, and i applaud their programming and booking dudes, but it pains me to have the sound slaughtered every single damn time! maybe i'll send them money but never actually come to the shows?
- these exalted young adoring women committing such atrocities against cinema in the name of philo-thrillaz - why, god, why?!
- medicine for melancholy - mumblecore transported to the west coast, rotting even further en route - it feeds on hipster signifiers and mounts a fnocking MESSAGE! tracey heggins is adorable though
- this - i thoughtfully lasted for half an hour watching - unfortunately it denied me the gratifying, joyous rage i was looking for - the kind that gives you energy for hours afterward and fuels posts like this. it was a non-event - a shape, a name, and nothing else
- klotz for quiet disappointment (since it had a potential) of la question humaine - meek, deliberate, wavering, unsure, confused
- bam's imperial theater - mendes on the loose, someone punch in his little snout to stop the atrocities. i stick to off-off theaters, where the signal to noise ratio is 30/70 (orly?)
- twitter for eating my brrrrain!!
- work and myself for spending too much of myself on it as opposed to productively raging against something more worthwhile
- myself for being too negative as opposed to ...
luckily, the good stuff is much more plentiful, but it remains in private confines, so as to avoid being spoiled by contact with the outside world (and my own poor treatment)
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| | Security: | | | Subject: | ltbdr | | Time: | 06:29 am |
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| | beijing is a weary aftermath of olympic madness; ethiopian olympic team going through security, the staff is picking their medals from the bags and sending them through xray - again; apparently no one cares about transit visa - one is free to walk out into the city; ulan bator was below freezing at night when the plane landed. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| * kode9 at love; not so impressed - a lot of dancefloor meat barely above the regular dancefloor fodder spiced up with some live MC and massive bass. his recorded live sets sounded a lot more interesting. still, there were a few sweet-sweet tracks that were so much fun to dance to.
blessed be those that come out to dance at this blasted 38C heat; but damn you sweating bastards for packing the freaking dancefloor like that. i noticed the tendency to oversell events in NY; i need to hose myself down before coming home. i took a walk though and then the subway. read dennett while listening to breakcore, basking in the coolness of the subway car at 4am - the treasured moment of feeling up the city's underbelly (groomed and pungent as it is).
* deupree, kirschner, jodi cave at issue project room. i think i sweated a puddle on the floor there. so this is the reason why i just simply could not connect with frail boy sparseness - here i am, cursed physical meatbag oozing into my chair, and here they are, eyes dreamy and faces long.
an amusing conversation on the stairs though - a doped-out hipster speciment perking up when his companions tell him about a hedge fund interview they've arranged for him. oh the hipster integrity, i admired you so much! | | comments: Leave a comment |
| * i've seen a sheltered bike rack in LIC - they are real!
* it is interesting how one's perception changes - even shoddy neighborhoods do not feel as bad anymore; you are not a pedestrian that is on the same level with the street, but something other, passing through, confined to the space of the bike
* road bike (as opposed to mountain bike) makes so much more sense in NY - it is lighter, faster, and still is manageable on gravel (exactly the opposite in moscow - my ass was saved many times by mighty shocks absorbing the tree roots, potholes and small dogs)
* i need a hat with a small bill (beak for furious beakage?) otherwise i have to keep my head way too high, which makes my neck muscles feel as if i am about to be struck dead for peeping too much
* oh the physical high when i shed my wheeling petals and feel the bow-legged freedom, clasping for my shashka!
* seductive nooks and crannies of greenpoint - i will be back for you (it's been quite a few months since i indulged in your blintzes served by polish blondes) - i just know i cannot stop and imbue, since i would not be able to continue after this sort of stop
* whereas running in a gym one feels one's mind expanding in the absence of any real stimulation, here, on the real road, one is blissfully empty, taking in the surroundings
* damn pedestrians! damn cars on a bike lane! damn trucks unloading on a bike lane! fellow bicyclists rushing with seamlessweb knapsacks (like sheep to the moon!) only to disappear in the waiting maw - i feel for you! damn you, dandies on a neutercycles and scooteristas!! damn your smugness, fixies!
* having suffered through some mean traffic jams in moscow, i am ever so grateful for bicycle paths on the roads - it is getting better each year, although it is far from perfect
* it is such an excellent way to discover a city, seek and grasp its err... spirit! really, jogging/walking does not last for more than a couple of hours and it kills my knees, cars are too cumbersome, anything smaller than a bike is not ubiquitous enough. and NY is quite good as a pedestrian city, and is getting better as a bike city (now we just need that congestion charge passed! and perhaps even see bike sharing)
* the flat paved road with no landscape changes around kills me - i need both the excitement of little turns and switches as well as long stretches where i can feel the muscles sing - as if pressing the bike into the city with each stroke, leaving an imprint
* i really need to learn a sustainable, transportation bicycling - so that i could go to a bar or a coffee shop, and then leave comfortable - not sweat and spit and wheeze. a proper bicycle goes a long way - not the turbo-charged road racer
* i keep thinking of bj nilsen's "viking north" as "biking north" (the track has been stuck in my head since may)
* when a man lets things go so far that he is half or more than half a bicycle, you will not see much because he spends a lot of his time leaning with one elbow on walls or standing propped by one foot at kerbstones. of course there are other things connected with ladies and ladies' bicycles that i will mention to you separately some time. but the man-charged bicycle is a phenomenon of great charm and intensity and a very dangerous article. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Subject: | gay bisons! | | Time: | 11:42 pm | | Current Mood: | tele-twitter style |
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| 
winnipeg!
invasion!
venetian snares on monday @ knitting factory; maddin's "my winnipeg" @ ifc today | | comments: Leave a comment |
| all of this minimal "stuff" that lanky folk insists on gyrating to in venues around big cities must stop. it has to be listening music. period. the only movement allowed is the the bob of the head and the twist of the knobby knee. the chair must be strict, but not too stiff. discipline. that's the way to do it. i always suspected it, but it took the minimal techno overdose at mutek06 to finalize it. no more concrete barracks and washed out youth that is determined to dance no matter what while the music feels like a dry wooden stick hitting you on the back of the head.
why this sudden outburst? excitement. this past week was uncharacteristically good in terms of live shows. years ago i vowed to stop attending, then stopped following, and finally almost stopped listening to the music altogether, but having moved to a big city i feel obligated to explore and tug at my limp live music appendage.
still, joyous moments are too few and too far apart. it is way too easy to spoil a live show (note, i am not talking about classical music here).
considering all that, i indignantly snored on the couch while alva noto & co played cherepashka holdout in bkln; but i showed up for "listening" set of alva noto + olaf bender (byetone) + frank bretschneider + all three as "signal" at issue project room on sunday night.
nevermind asthmatic wheezing hipsters gasping for air through their goatees, i was there to rock! i even neglected staunch prima donnas of 3-day "no fun fest" for this.
15+ speakers, wooden walls, no reverb; sound that cradles you in its grandmotherly bearish hug - perfect! i expected reluctant noodling of "insen" or "xerrox," but what i got instead was ultimate metal machine music - he played "unitxt" - immediately reminding me of celluloid mata or even pan sonic - joyously violent, relentlessly repetitive, but soft and fuzzy at the same time. i was startled by stern sampled voice of anne-james chaton - even more proto-industrial leanings (he also mentioned that there is more to come, and COH + cosey fanni tutti is an example).
i was wedged between the thick slabs of sound, unable to move freely, and yet the whole thing was so dynamic (perhaps slightly enhanced by a bottle of cheap white i downed all by myself). opening sets built up to it - frank bretschneider had excellent visuals, somewhat reminiscent of obsessively detailed skoltz kolgen that blew my mind at mutek06 and decibel06; olaf bender was an honest working man's set - direct and muscular. just the way we like it.
so there is hope after all - proper setting, proper mindset carefully built up to the show, and there is a chance of snatching that fleeting moment of joy. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Tags: | film | | Security: | | | Time: | 06:45 am |
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| the other weekend was spent hiking to the hot springs in the smokies, re-enacting "old joy" so to speak (which, in itself, as ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.2) fosca noted, feels like a re-enactment of "blissfully yours").
the biggest fear after watching wkw's latest is that it will kill the magic of earlier movies, because on the surface everything is in place, but it just does not work. it is like jacques demy's "model shop" - it just could not be transplanted to the states, which is even more obvious on the big screen. note that, mister wenders!
this is the ny i am after; as for americana, it is malick and bob rafaelson; and the best pie on screen goes with a cup'o'coffee ordered by agent cooper.
to curb the negativity, the night before wkw's fiasco a bottle of red and i watched "the postmodern life of my aunt", and we both liked it. at first it feels burlesque, just a scattered assortment of caricatures, but halfway through it starts to come together, sneaks in some social commentary, attains some weight, and the final episode even manages to give it a sense of scale. it is hard to stay so low-key and so delicate (take that, mister "blind fury" yang li). ed yang in a skirt?
of course it is all building up to hhh's latest, that i will swear i will see any day now. i finally managed to watch assayas' film on hhh at afa. the dude was a boozer and a street kid! | | comments: Leave a comment |
| i did not think much of it while watching it, but it keeps growing on me, damnit.
i think at first it seemed a bit too contrived - the conscious peddling of exotica, the unhurried placement of grave iconic items (kid - check, old man - check, sand - check; then add ocean, light, death to taste) and then fumbling with them reluctantly to see if meaning emerges.
sissako has a tendency to do some pretty damn creative things with color, pace and composition (i was so uneasy during the old-man-with-light-walking episode, it seemed to artificial, but now i cannot shake it off - it is burned in my mind, and gets more and more striking each day). in this sense it reminded me of "daratt" (turns out sissako was a producer), where similar we-shall-steamroll-you-with-salty-truth-of-life attitude employed bread, guns, and fathers to imprint your mind with its imagery. sissako's saving grace is aesthetization of the camera's eye, and decision to intentionally relax the storytelling side of things. add some longing on top of that and you are addicted for days after.
now, don't get me wrong - exotica is good, but if one does not take his meds and runs rampant, we will end up with "opera jawa" and then everyone will be ashamed and feel awkward.
i wanted a bit more transgression though, a side-step into surreal, a touch of surprise, a brief encounter outside of the film fabric, a spark of meta-meta-meta-something. perhaps i am too spoiled, and i cannot take the straight observing gaze anymore; perhaps it is the outlandish exoticism that prevents one from taking it in as a humble realistic portrayal.
still, the colors (purples! yellows! light blues!), the faces, the boy's tight shirts, the ships, billowing fabrics - such richness, and yet presented sparingly and tastefully (even only if in retrospect).
i should have watched "bamako" at sfiff instead of boozing around; also note his r-r-r-russian connection.
i must say that moma's "age of chevalier" festival is kicking some ass; i am pretty damn impressed, although i am not sure how long i can last - the schedule is pretty intense.
the arte directa with pascal ferran and mista chevalier himself droned on and on at the opening last week. i dozed on and off, lulled by the frenchies and geezers that frequent these moma screenings (although geezers are a fixture, i take notice and prepare to turn into them - eat chips loudly, snore at times, and pull from the flask cursing at damn tourists. and smell, yes, i will work on that too). surprisingly most of these screenings sell out, go figure. good thing i can dart out during lunch and grab my free ticket. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| such a perfect jolt of energy. of course i should have seen it 10+ yrs ago, it would have been very timely. high school coming of age/slacker comedy; heavy-handed plot, storyline gimmicks, and corny flashbacks - granted, all is here, but damn, these moments of pure physical joy and goofy teens running around throwing shit and making fun of those mid-seventies moody post-revolutionaries. come to think of it, it comes across as almost a spiteful jab in the direction of "sauvage innocence" (of course i cannot mention philippe garrel's name without my voice trembling with adoration; similar to a blonde behind me that was gushing about garrel-son, and how sexy he was, and how she went to check out "regular lovers" to see him making loooove and it was all shit and rubble and she walked out. sheeit, bitch... i cuts you!!)
it is strange that although these kids are not that likable, i still find it irresistible - it is so easy to have fun watching them and sort of follow along, giggling and laughing out loud. light-hearted joy that ignores any attempt to bring gravity into the picture (it mimics their own attitude towards anything serious in their lives).
apparently this movie also launched the career of romain duris, but all the previews of his recent pictures i've seen were so godawfully trite, that i refuse to give in.
http://moma.org/calendar/films.php?id=7356&ref=calendar | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| good stuff. i am pretty damn impressed. "the world" was a bit flimsy - revolving around an obvious symbol and a forced one at that; the rest was awkwardly attached to it, and seemed a bit too skittish, muddled.
"still life" is so much more. there is space and silence; there is gravity, and (surprise, surprise!) sensuality. the latter was unexpected. it is almost as if he went through a crash course on tsai ming-liang and pitched his sanming against lee kang-sheng. i was almost ready to add sanming to my pantheon of charismatic trolls - barrel-chested and bare-chested brutes that also include denis lavant in "beau travail"
camera lingers and the heat is palpable, the backdrop of nature is monumental and here's another reference - latest apichatpong with his roaming oneiric gaze. it must also be the sweet-sweet pop music that connects tsai, apichatpong, and jia zhangke. man, this stuff is impossible to get out of my head.
silent half-naked men, wandering through the landscape that will soon disappear, speeding up its demise with their sledgehammers. shell-shocked, displaced, lost, and yet on a quest for something.
and then the cinematic transgressions - the film fabric cracks ever so slightly and the statue lifts off, white-clad figures enter the landscape, and the silhouette balances on the tight rope between the two buildings soon to be demolished. this dislocation is so powerful - it elevates the whole thing to a wonderfully abstract level, the individuals disappear (sometimes literally, as the camera adjusts focus). of course, i am tempted to bring up "tale of cinema" that moment when the camera lingers for too long and lets its subject escape - the effect is stunning.
it is still a documentary, but these deviations from narrative (the story that strays off and returns) and realistic imagery add so much more.
all in all, there is more subtlety, more depth, and, finally, plenty of humor, even slapstick.
- sound/music (matched with the rhythmic sounds of hammers and rubble)
- "the world" and "still life" both referring to mammoth landscapes and symbols, heavy with social implications; with actual people crawling all over like ants
- a strange aesthetic moment when woman appears - explosion of colors, softness, sensuality, abstract details
- bike and one-armed man
- continuous backdrop of sound (voices that are never seen, demolition) reminds of "colossal youth" - texture
- nostalgia (tsai's "skywalk is gone")
- busy with people, detritus, motion, and yet space and time
- singing waif and ufo that appear for both characters in the stories
- escape and flight are only imagined/supernatural (ufo, statue, etc)
- division into chapters by consumerist tokens (all the more poignant against the grandeur of nature and destruction) | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| finished two seasons of "how do you want me" (i am a dylan moran fanboy, what can i do?), shamelessly finishing up a bottle of rioja (courtesy of _v_), winding down after thermo-nuclear-BANYA on friday, and pondering whether i should fall so low as to (shamelessly) embark on http://www.festival-kinetik.net/ (courtesy of quewhy).
aesthetic highlight of the week - terrence malick's "badlands". i meant to watch it for years, and finally got a chance to do that. on par with bob rafelson's finest that were done around the same time.
i should really lay off nicolas roeg from that period, dismiss the coen boys' attempts, and go after some good solid americana from that time.
speaking of the coens, the money-briefcase has not changed between "fargo" and "no country for old men"; also i realized that mike from "spaced" is john goodman's character from "the big lebowski".
music highlight of the past couple of weeks - margaret leng tam (a cage scholar, according to my copy of "ambient century") playing prepared piano. it was my first time seeing it so close (the space really is so cozy and intimate) - it is performance and music at the same time; there is something exhilaratingly indecent about reaching into the "sacred" space and tugging, pulling, scratching in there; fingers covered with gooey paste, inserting and removing little bits and pieces. i think i recognized a somei satoh piece she played during "mourning" butoh performance a couple of months ago - it is even more moving up close, and the second piano on tape adds a nice texture.
she also played stuff by tan dun, ge gan-ru and erik griswold which i was not familiar with at all.
speaking of the big "new music" names, here's today's bbc tribute to recently deceased stockhausen: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/hearandnow/pip/rrci9/ (skip until 19:04; did you know he passed away? i did not, but then i did not realize he was still alive).
and finally, an image that lodged itself in my head over a month ago and refuses to leave:
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| second lubitsch i've seen on the big screen, and damn, i am so impressed. from the very beginning that is so over the top, you do not know what to think, it is such a pile-up of gags, jokes, one-liners, and skits.
unapologetically fun - sexual innuendos in the best pre-hays code fashion. scenes that flash before your eyes - the sports coach, the russian-speaking trotskyite, the german dialogue, the italians at the beginning, when he toys with the audience' reaction (people looking for subs). deliciously cheesy, and so incredibly imaginative. the radio commercial, no potatoes, lily as a studious schoolgirl with glasses, art-deco interiors.
charmed and smitten!! | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| i have been really enjoying both seasons of "people like us" - it took me a couple of years to locate it (plus a radio series that were the basis for it).
it is a series of mockumentaries about "people like us" - real estate agent, a vicar, a headmaster at school, etc. the interviewer is never seen, and his narrative and questions are deliciously deadpan and low-key - from outrageous tv-gone-overboard intros, to sluggish naivety; and his interviewees are really "like him" - a bit odd, a bit slow, a bit delusional; there is always something wrong going on with them, and yet it never crosses the line to absolute absurdity.
there is a lot of stuff happening on the background, in passing; you are likely to miss it if you are not paying attention. being framed in documentary genre, it pushes it just enough to create a slightly off-kilter world that is still real enough.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/peoplelikeus/
on somewhat related note, here's a great post by marc andreessen (netscape/opsware/ning) - "Rebuilding Hollywood in Silicon Valley's image". | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| - fiery skies and purple haze at sunset on the appalachian trail - silence and emptiness save our footsteps. blotches of color above and hills that "turn on" as the setting sun illuminates them
- reading "men in the off hours" on the train
- fireplace + whiskey + pancakes (!) + francis dhomont on excellent speakers
- the attack of the falling mufflers
- cognac and old ladies trekking in
- oh and today i got a little tacky "welcome to usa" booklet with my green card inside (finally)! frrrreeedom, bitches!! | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Tags: | trivia | | Security: | | | Time: | 06:19 pm |
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| such a beautiful morning today. it takes a rainy gloomy day with empty streets to realize that you do have a home and it is cozy and thus being outside feels so nice. the streets actually looked so much smaller and somehow different, the park was quiet, barely a few people.
and i learned a couple of things - "zaftig research" borrows its name from yiddish "zaftig", which is pretty damn funny, consider the material the label produces; and gordon matta-clark's "fresh kills" actually borrows its name from a staten island landfill. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| woke up this morning with claudes channes' "mao mao" in my head. i've seen "la chinoise" last saturday at film forum - new print, such vivid colors, such a boisterous attitude - so much fun.
it's been a long time since i've seen it last, and seeing it again, with all the cultural references running through my head (from "les amants réguliers" to "a zed & two noughts" and groupe medvedkine/marker's "classe de lutte" with the writings on the wall), was such a different experience. thoroughly joyous, goofy, tongue-in-cheek precursor of events to come - revolutionaries in their parents apartment, little red book ("mao mao" means "kitty" in mandarin!), anne wiazemsky's sweater, juliet berto's hat, jean-pierre léaud next to a record player; the rhythm, the pacing! and of course the "mao mao" song that is so infectious.
oh and they lament rivette's film being prohibited! another name dropping - anne sits on a train with her real-life professor francis jeanson.
putting it in context of the time, it must have been such an exhilarating experience - fiction and documentary, so spontaneous, full of agitprop and music video-like, poster-like dynamics. what adds even more to it is the tinge of nostalgia one cannot avoid adding. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| listening to the threshold houseboys choir (kudos to you-know-who). his video(s) at brainwashed fest last year (together with coil's video) was one of the highlights. it somehow fit just right - sitting hunched in a chair in the old theater, tucked deeply in my coat; third day, quiet sunday daze, cold; and then on the big screen - mesmerizing slow-motion ritual with the music that is sweet, and simple, but with a slight menacing bent that draws you in through repetition. exquisitely outlandish and just slightly perverse - they way we like it. it was a strange weekend - mostly sober, determined to get through it, lots of music, cold gray weather - somehow all so memorable and ... well, good!
here's a bunch of observations, as i am treasuring the newcomer's perspective (all too soon to disappear as the weeks flash by):
- shocked, absolutely shocked by space in CT and princeton after spending a few months in manhattan - honest to god malls and wide-ass checkout lanes in the stores. i guess i got used to the cramped little delis and stores all too fast
- i like walking fast
- it was humid this july/august. i got used to the heat in several weeks, but at times it got so humid that when i got out on the street, my glasses fogged up. i had to take them off to see anything
- voyeur in me is rejoicing. i wonder how long it will take me to get used to the people. so far it is a feast
- i like brooklyn. seems like manhattan is drying up - everyone is in pursuit of entertainment - people dive in and do not relax ("i must have fun - i will get it no matter what"). it is not sustainable. i like weekend nights. seems like in brooklyn it is more lightweight, more laid-back. but i thrive on contrast. spent a few weekends around park slope, williambsburg, bkln heights - exploring the corners and little places
- where is coffee shops in manhattan? there are some in the village, yes. but i need more. those that are relaxed, cozy, wifi-enabled. perhaps i should check out the east village some more, besides occasional visits to the stone and afa
- i am convinced the authorities are determined to keep the subway as a charming artifact. i cannot believe how backward and retarded things are - at least they could improve communication when shit happens, or put those freakin timers that say "10 mins to next train" (on all stations! not just one or two). still i am glad i gots the green line closeby - express to BAM under half an hour, village under 20 minutes
- gaaaaah - the blackberries. everyone sports one. ugly fucking duckling things
- i cannot and should not and will not speak russian on professional topics at work. why, oh why it should be this way - the implied camaraderie where there should be none. in fact i feel like a retard, once again proving how crucial communication is. bitchslap them all and stop the bastardization of languages
- getting out to CT and floating in the salt water of long island sound. then natasha barrett (isostasie, track 7 i believe?) as a highlight on an excellent soundsystem (many thanks!)
- some theater. nothing to be excited about
- acid mothers tmple guru guru. so did not work out for me - completely against the mood, the weather, the people, etc, etc. bleak and uninteresting. i fled. another check mark
but so far it is going well, which i am glad to report.
new shows opening in chelsea starting.... today! i am out to explore and demand great things,.. or else! it is funny how all of a sudden the work that occupied me for past couple of years, the responsibility, the growth and all that stuff got pushed aside, and i am sort of glad now to an extent (or i keep telling myself) that it has been reduced to something quite peripheral.
and, finally, a quote (from a book dedicated to gordon lish ("stolid vludka" strikes again!):
"a withheld work of art is the only eloquence left" | | comments: Leave a comment |
| another night at ifc with filmmakers, this time it was bill shannon.
he point-n-clicked through a bunch of his videos and stills, showed a few 16mm movies as well as pieces from a documentary on him. small crowd, seemed like most of them knew him personally. very intimate. he does have a charisma, and he has done quite a lot - street performances, more formal dances, b-boy battles, multimedia stuff, costumes, etc, etc. too bad the presentation did not get into a lot of it.
still, somewhat of a continuation of the theme from last night. he is indeed in need of crutches, he has been on and off (mostly on) all his life, learned how to dance and skateboard, then started performing, developed his style and became this sort of a street performer with aspirations for a more "serious" artistry. sometimes it works out, sometimes not. it is the most appropriate when his personality comes through - this is not a gimmick, but a true story, and his life force and playfulness and a bit of posturing come through; he is in between - much closer to b-boys than to formal dance.
his smaller films with music (early autechre!) are damn nice - a bit reminiscent of twisted chris cunningham's videos for afx, but it is a real person, real crutches, real b-boy (his large black b-boy mates give him props). i wish there was more of that - miniatures, half-abstract pieces, surfing through the crowd - whimsical, affecting, moving, aggressive in a sense - in your face.
plus, it is nyc again - i recognize the streets, the neighborhood - not the glossy stuff, but the gritty everyday life through 16mm.
props are nice when it comes to dance, but especially moving since they are a part of his life - crutches and a skateboard. this is very urban image - twisted broken body, fractured music, straight lines and b-boy attitude. it would have been pretentious/offensive if it was not "his" to own and display.
thus he should stay as immediate and direct as possible - theorizing does not really suit him. and this is why his street pieces were most affecting.
which reminds me - one of the last evenings before i moved to nyc i ran across my capoeira people from few years back - they took it to the streets (as it should have been done! and as it was originally meant to be), and it was so moving to hear these makeshift instruments and see the folks i knew just doing their stuff in the middle of this gentrified townsquare. there is a lot to be said about it, and i keep coming back to jack smith (note the double territorial connection here!! and a triple one if you note rjd2 above) and his credo (and the documentary that turned me onto him).
( Read more... ) | | comments: Leave a comment |
| what a jolt (and i needed that!)
http://www.ifccenter.com/event?eventid=999831
i really avoided the mumblecore features peddled by ifc this past month (it was nice until you see throngs of these charmingly limp pensive cassavetes-wannabes all over brooklyn, incestuously breeding films); and korean festival was a shame (squealing girls and muscle boys).
"frownland" was a welcome break. such an intense confusing experience. i can really identify with this obsessive desire to create such a monster. there is so much energy in this inability to communicate, so much direct violence - this inarticulate brute shot in closeups - right in your face, all this pent-up energy - compressed; like a drawn-out train crash that is played over and over again - you cannot look away, you are drawn to it, you enjoy the violence, you want more, but you are ashamed and feel empathy, and sadness - all of it at the same time.
you find yourself sympathizing with him, but at the same time enjoying this escalation of violence against him. there is so much raw intensity - like francis bacon paintings, it shows you how it feels, not how it looks (both to be him and to interact with him). this is a peculiar brand of realism - the feelings ring true, but the technique is not a tedious reconstruction.
there is such a confusing array of associations. take dogme, for instance. it is not "idioterne" - "frownland" is darker, but also kinder, and funnier, and more direct than trier. at times it might remind you of harmony korine - "gummo" or "julien donkey-boy", but there is less pathological fascination and absurdity. the final 20 minutes - the mad dash through the city and a fantastic party scene reminded me of denis lavant a bit - a wordless brute dancing in clair denis' "beau travail" or running through the streets in early carax. it is a tempting comparison.
there is also, of course, lodge kerrigan (who introduced the screening tonight) and frederick wiseman (the director mentioned him affectionately).
there are also early buster keaton/chaplin silents with abuse of the main character and preoccupation with the city, the machines, the dehumanization. there is quite a bit of slapstick humor in "frownland", often crossing the line into the painfully cringetastic territory (and even years of british sitcoms failed to steel me for that).
in fact this is very much a nyc theme that went through the whole movie - yearning to connect, pining for human touch, and inability to attain it - for him, and for us when we encounter something like this on the subway, instinctively backing away from it, brushing it off.
or it's like that outcast kid in school that everyone loved to hate and pick on, and felt exhilaratingly guilty at the same time, which only intensified the pleasure of abuse.
yes, there are slip-ups - the caricature of the high-school girl character, the music, the title, a bit of a gimmick with the ending (although one cannot deny its emotional appeal). | | comments: Leave a comment |
| really enjoying new telepherique on forces of nature - was a bit skeptical at first, since it is not a collaboration, but it flows nicely, has a good drive and the usual combination of organic noises, found sounds, micro-glitchy stuff and heavy-ass bass.
found a perfect music for the workplace yesterday - grabbed latest artz+pfusch (available under creative commons license) - their peculiar brand of violence and goofiness is still very much alive. sickening, scathing, acidic, meaty, gritty fun. plus the artwork is consistently excellent.
i am sad to report that melomaniac in me has been suffering for past couple of years; perhaps a natural fluctuation of taste, somewhat induced by being overwhelmed with the amount of stuff, withdrawing from "the scene" and as a result not having enough people around to discuss stuff and in general be thoughtful and discerning. in any case, i am looking forward to "weekend listening" sessions at DACHA (or should we come up with a more appropriate name, like STAVKA, korovka lair.. wait, that's something else).
on an unrelated notice, i have been trying to infiltrate the geeky circles of nyc - the usual collection of users' groups for now (python/ruby/java/etc), looking for alpha geek bloggers (amit gupta, seth godin, etc), coworking places, and all sorts of other under-the-radar meetup-worthy activities. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Tags: | film, nyc | | Security: | | | Time: | 10:35 pm |
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| ignoring the elephant in the room for a little bit ("colossal youth" was as mind-blowing as i remember it after the first viewing).
- syndroms and a century a few months ago (right before i left). a nice folding of two stories onto each other reminded me of hong sang-soo, but then it becomes increasingly videoart-like (barney flashbacks!). more and more disconnected episodes (finally, an aerobics session). overall much clearer than his previous work, much simpler, down to earth and somewhat forced in its formal rigor
- although i intentionally missed most of the stuff at the asian action festival, i did end up watching aachi & ssipak at home (god bless KG!). eh, entertaining, but only after a few beers. perhaps i am a little out of it, but i do not get to see many unapologetically goofy and trash anime. bonus points for anal rings.
- "fallen angels" on a big screen at BAM. i did not like it much on a little computer screen years ago, so this was a completely different experience. after a week of austere pedro costa and straubs this was mind-blowing (curiously mr. costa did take a little jab against wkw one night).
- i do not want to sleep alone by tsai ming-liang at BAM. it was nice to see it on a big screen, and there were some very sensual moments, as well as a lot of quieter humor. it was more gentle, more subdued; taking place (finally!) in his own malaysia. the usual global disaster, the humor of masks and "human caterpillar" carrying a mattress, the homoerotic undertones, the heartbreaking fetishism of small things (reappearing little signs) - but cleaner, more humble. yes, i did want to see "umbrellas of cherbourg" set around the statue of generalissimo chiang, or at least the tension of "vive l'amour". in any case, it was quieter and more accessible, and still thoroughly enjoyable.
- cremaster2 once again at afa; on one of the pedro costa screenings i ran into jem cohen (and felt guilty for missing his talk at ifc a few weeks prior)
- i am missing nyc noir at filmforum - i really should go, otherwise all i will have to claim for myself is woody allen's "manhattan". what a shame
- really looking forward to johnnie to on big screen as well as other HK stuff (not to mention korean fest) - a bit poppy, but when did i shy away from that??
- toronto film fest. yes/no/maybe??
- need to do more music! and theater. it was nice seeing iszoloscope last week, a little tedious for a long set, but he had some excellent tracks - rock you like a hurricane. hella cool. noizecreator in a week! and then herbst9, land:fire, deutsch nepal announced for october. i guess i can live with that
- seems like i am missing roulette.org stuff again - http://www.roulette.org/events/2007_08.html
- ps1 warm up last week turned out to be surprisingly good (perhaps because i got out before the crowds hit). dance, listen, drink, wonder through the museum, repeat. some hella nice exhibits - i must go back! plus it's just a short trip from my place. surprisingly, i did not want to strangle hipsters and burn the artworks - am i getting too soft??
- took me a bit to realize that sacha vierny shot "a zed and two naughts" (watching it w/ director's commentary. slowly) | | comments: 7 comments or Leave a comment |
| aka god bless afa!
Saturday, Aug 4 @ 2:30pm "bones"
Saturday, Aug 4 @ 5pm "in vanda's room"
Sunday, Aug 5 @ 7:15pm "where does your hidden smile lie?"
Monday, Aug 6 @ 9pm "colossal youth" ('cause i cannot get enough)
Tuesday, Aug 7 @ 7pm "the blood"
Wednesday, Aug 8 @ 7pm straubs + pedro costa shorts
Thursday, Aug 9 @ 9:30pm "down to earth"
plus Sunday, Aug 5 @ 2pm "i do not want to sleep alone" - BAM (kudos to panarchist, otherwise i would have missed it). i watched opera jawa, daratt, and syndromes from the new hope series (SF and @ home right before i left). and only with "daratt" i had a few objections. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| although i am not all that busy, but somehow i just do not have that much time; perhaps it's the commute and the adjustment to the city and all the other small inefficiencies that add up.
reading in transport (besides the "book of kuz, 5:19") - "minor angels" by antoine volodine (props to panarchist); i like its omissions and tension of form - as he says himself, the book takes shape not during reading but in the dreams that follow, influenced by the book. i like how the stories interconnect and how easily they become phantasmagoric, but always overly emotional. reminds me of another recent reading-in-transport during my last nyc visit - anne carson's "autobiography of red" - very affecting and incredibly cinematic; the imagery draws in the sentiments from wkw's "happy together" or any other romantic south american utopia. i am a sucker for formal rigor, and she does it fantastically.
two greenaways on big screen last week - new prints of "zed and two naughts" and "draughtsman's contract". i've never seen them in this quality and it was overwhelmingly good. "zoo" was very much like nyc itself - the way i see it right now - dizzying, flamboyant, bursting with energy and references, with a pungent smell of decay and dog shit, shrill soundtrack, overabundance of everything.
i succumbed and watched woody allen's "manhattan" on the big screen - it's been a while and it seemed like a proper ny thing to do.
watched a minimal "americana" play at http://www.here.org/ - nice space, but the play itself was a bit transparent in its intentions and techniques, and ultimately failed to create a mood (although background white noise drone stuff was pretty good).
music-wise i fucked up the machinedrum show earlier this week because of the steam debacle, then i fucked up the orgue electronique/tlr tour thing, because... well, don't get me started, i blame the organizers and the snooty prissy cuntish venue pissheads. last week i stopped by galapagos for some rock and minimal stuff; needless to say it was shit and was instantly forgotten. authorities have been notified and organizers will be executed.
commute listening - almost done with acm queuecasts and they are pretty piss poor compared to jon udell's stuff - very generic questions by the host, only amazon cto shined, but then i knew it already.
so here i am consuming things quietly, looking for some response inside, some sort of emotional work. so far the process itself is quite an experience. we'll see how it goes. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | finally moved my ass into the aptmnt; 1tb of readynas space was the heaviest item to carry. bought a sixpack to sing me to sleep and realized i had nothing to open it with. rsa secureid to the rescue! finally its tamper-resistant strength is put to good use. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Tags: | ltdbr | | Security: | | | Time: | 08:08 pm |
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| despite my sabbatical on all sorts of consumerism while i am adjusting to the city, it is hard to stay away from stuff. i promised myself that there will be more non-cinema stuff, specifically theater and dance.
it seems like theater is everywhere - all sorts of venues, parks, and even on the streets. so far i only got out to "universal robots" from brooklyn's 31down theater company. this summer they are presenting their stuff at "ontological-hysteric theater" at st. marks church (my first association was nitsch's "orgien mysterien theater"). this was the sort of stuff i was after - indie theater that can take risks and do something interesting. these guys have a yearning for modernism (20s and 30s, robots, technology, well-developed low-fi fetish) - through the re-enactment of the brothers' capek play, then a running (and increasingly symbolic/abstract) commentary of the real world with the events leading up to wwII. the tech (and the ambient sound) was quite prominent; also stuff was in place to jolt the audience (we sat on both sides of the naked man, for instance); and at times multitude of perspectives was dizzying. it suffered a bit from a tangible amateurish feel (lo-fi fetish gone bad), but altogether was something to chew on in your head while stumbling to the subway stop.
my music aspirations are somewhat underdeveloped - couple of weeks back i danced to carl craig for a few hours; i am not a big techno fan, but he did some hella nice stuff throughout the night, and there were moments of pure joy. last time i've seen him it was ~5 yrs ago, and it was not nearly as much fun. small town syndrom again - i ran into some folks i've known back then at this show.
there was also an amused presence at galapagos; a lampo-worthy series of new media/technology/music stuff at roulette.org (presented at greene20) - i've only attended one and fucked up all the others, which i do regret, given that my only music alternative this week was 77777777 bored drummers at dumbo (i've seen boredoms, yes, thank you). there is also stuff at the stone, but i am not ready for immersive geekery on unknown terrain - i am still insecure, so i crave familiar "freaky gay disco" or "nazi fauns climbing evergrowing air statues" (to borrow eismann's terminology). similar, ps1 and luna lounge and all other places that have skinny boys with watery eyes, limp hands, and wet lips dancing to minimal beats do not sound all that appealing, when it is close to 100 degrees farenheit and all this new and unknown stuff is pumping outside.
moma is just a block from work, and yet i only got out there this weekend. i know serra, serra, serra - and he did important stuff, but a lot of things are exploration of form and function and gesture and self reflection - important, but not so affecting. yet, i was right to stop by the exhibit - you enter the room and there is a single sheet of metal on the floor - nothing else; this feeling of intense, compressed violence and weight - this single work that has to be displayed in isolation - this is the way art should be - a freaking metal sheet on the floor and nothing else - like a slap on the face, a compressed slab of violence, twisted and shaped into a rigid form; bursting with energy and yet constrained; vibrating with force. purely orgasmic experience. much recommended.
new perspectives on painting was also damn nice - i love the medium (photography be damned) - i want texture, things on canvas; better yet things splattered all over, spilling out, protruding and attacking the viewer - this explains my fascination with kiefer.
my only encounter with japanese film festival so far was quite disastrous - yubari fest samples were eye-gouging awful, i was pining for quiet joys of next "guitar wolf" or at least "964 pinocchio" or "ginipiggu", but what i got was educational "tron" without any redeeming value (and it was a dvd projection!).
quiet joys - melville's "le doulos" at film forum ("bob le flambeur" meets "le samouraï") - i adore his characters - peaceful gangster bourgeoisie - smoking, eating, drinking, riding cars, lounging in beds, and at the same time all the noir gimmiks - he does it so perfectly, and his moods have such a lasting effect on me.
kaurismaki's latest at ifc was quite poor - it seems like he reduced himself to a set of cliches that through overuse became hollow and meaningless. very sad. "sehnsucht" at afa was quite good - although a usual dogme romp through the down and under oppressed and small, it had moments of raw sensuality that was overpowering, incredibly endearing (recall "italian for beginners"); and what redeems the ending is that lapse into fiction, or sort of reflection/fable at the end - especially considering dogme's bent on making these kids retell the story that they probably just heard from the crew themselves.
walking is nice so far, i welcome it, but i need to invest in better gear. i hope it will assist in reducing unwelcome curvature that has accumulated in past few months. at the same time i am always on guard - fishing for the moment when the newness wears off, it will become a dreaded routine. but change is good - it is amazing the amount of purely practical crap i've done in past month that i have been putting off for years. not to mention the desire to actually do something at work, learn stuff and grow.
now these fuken movers better get my shit to me or there will be hell to pay! | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Tags: | nyc | | Security: | | | Time: | 09:09 am |
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| it's a small city:
- the next tenant moving into our apartment back there apparently comes from nyc; and, as it turns out, his place in nyc was just two blocks away from our current place here. in fact, i was passing by his door twice a day on the way to work
- the other day, walking out of the subway i ran into a guy that i worked with last year - just like that; he noticed me on the subway and we happened to get off on the same station | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| - so far commute is just the right size - one podcast in one direction. jon udell still kicks ass, and i think i am actually finally capable of catching up with him, at which point i need to branch out some more and find some other stuff to listen to (itconversations, acm, channel9 *shudder*, maybe even music!)
- first honest-to-god blackout today, although i only learned about it from corporate communication crisis awareness enterprise alert thing. and it just happened to be exactly where i live now; seems like the media made it much worse than it was - i took subway home and it was fine
- work - well, i set my expectations, and so far it matches them. there are sharp people out there, it is a matter of chewing through the muck to get to them. whether it is worth it or not, we will see, but for now i will just concentrate on learning as much as i can instead of setting out to change the world. it is interesting to note that even the most appalling stuff that would have me roll my eyes and spew obscenities just a few weeks before now just causes me to politely raise my eyebrow and keep quiet
- it is easy to burn through the money here, so i need to adjust and be careful; at the same time there are so many tempting events, so i need to pace myself, figure out the routine and then cautiously consume... consume... CONSUME!!! *panting in excitement*
- all in all it still seems like a game - i am posing, pretending to be someone, and we'll see if it sticks. at the same time it could be a chance to take up something new and make it work. yes? maybe? | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
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latest kiyoshi kurosawa was a disappointment - crude and downright cheesy at times, although music (or rather ambience with occasional music) for the most part was excellent, reminding of takefumi haketa's work on "pulse". it did not help that director's megalomaniac "world is coming to an end and nation is doomed" symbolism ran rampant. he seems to borrow directly from his earlier works not to mention genre staples.
but, this is just a side note. the trivia revelation of the week goes to the following: i have been listening to an album by all sides for past few weeks - really enjoying its take on the analog drone genre - at times reminiscent of troum, at times of labradford/pan american on kranky. i never really put it all together until now, when i realized that the person behind it was nina kernicke, and latest troum was indeed a work with her, and it was her that was on stage with troum at brainwashed festival last november. a fantastic performance, one of the top highlights in 2006. intense and gripping. needless to say, i am madly in love with her now. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| one of the strongest experiences these past couple of weeks was chris marker's photography exhibit spanning 40 years of his film/journalism ("staring back").
as he points out himself, most of these were "just girls' faces and cats", but they did wonders to me. just like "la jetée", the images burn into your brain; and his small poignant passages here and there add context; they create almost a storyline, magically brining all of the surrounding seemingly scattered photos together.
frankly, i have never really viewed photography by itself as an art form that has strong claims to authorship/auteur-ship (thus i tend to favor those works that embrace chance); and i am really, really suspicious of journalism that is all too willing to embrace exploitative/sensationalist nature of the medium ("a fucking vulture, waiting to take a picture" - bonus for those that guess the quote).
as for marker, he is humble (calling himself a "pickpocket"; out for the images to steal), humorous; he manages to insert the personality and melancholy in his work (futility of struggle? and yet the only way he can participate).
i recognized stills from his movies (and even the ones i recently saw and did not like as much) - it is amazing how much more powerful they were as framed stills - on the wall, faces - the human spirit distilled, without any ulterior/practical motifs that surface in a documentary (wittgenstein's distance at work?). why is that? being a semi-abstract image, i can attach so much more to it; it is staged, amplified, and ultimately engages the viewer so much more (bela tarr/tsai ming-liang/tarkovsky - set it up and let the viewer do the work). this is why i am hesitant to trust the documentaries - where is me, where is the creative work of the author?
also, i really do not believe in "image by itself" - there is no such thing anymore - marker's little poetic vignettes are a great illustration - i take them in context of his life, in context of politics, in context of his movies.
going back to fragmented imagery and voice-over narrative, i find this far more seductive and affecting - is it effectively annulling all the cinema has to offer, or simply a yearning for space and reflection? (cue in fascination with minimalism and tension of formal rigor). | | comments: Leave a comment |
| while i am struggling to absorb all the stuff i've seen at SF film fest, i might as well get some stuff out of the way that i've seen since then:
- "vers mathilde" (claire denis; big screen) - eh, i know i am nurturing my unsatisfied interest in dance (no good visits this year, but local scene has a few things; i am even going to graduating class performance tomorrow), but damn - i'd rather watch "dracula: pages from a virgin's diary" over and over again (i know - an unfair comparison), but even dancing denis lavant at the end of "beau travail"; no that's unfair too - it is a hermetic artform, one has to know more, etc, etc, and there were some memorable pieces (marching korean army; white-clad figure on a square in the shadows) - but altogether it was so dry, so devoid of emotion, or personality. in a sense it is similar to her rivette documentary, but there he was overwhelming by himself
- "sixième face du pentagone" (chris marker) - sympathetic, humorous, but... still, interesting in context, on a big screen. don't get me wrong - i am a big marker fan, but i am yet to warm up to some of his movies
- "la solitude du chanteur de fond" (chris marker) - some memorable quotes, insights into creative process, but not my cup of tea for everything else. still - marker (check), big screen (check), context (check)
- a bunch of peter tscherkassky shorts - as i was squirming in my seat at SF film fest, sitting through some of the shorts programs there, chewing through the program leaflet to refrain from grinding my teeth in pain - i kept reminding myself of how damn memorable tscherkassky stuff was (after-images, those burnt-out halos, frantic, kinetic density) - so there was truth and solace in short films after all
- "la belle noiseuse" (rivette) - a wonderfully crafted mystery/suspense story, and the most blatant manifestation of his ideas about actors (each must find a transgressive moment, push/break oneself, leave oneself), art in general (art is an offense, it is dangerous, it should not be contained, assimilated, institutionalized), creative process (improvisation) - see claire denis' documentary | | comments: Leave a comment |
| the day started with the following sms, "boys, boys, boys... slapping each other again!", and it ended with guy maddin himself introducing a delightful pairing - "blood money" followed by the "day of wrath".
it is always a pleasure to see him speak in person - he lights up and starts gesticulating, bubbling about cinema and his personal life, spicing it up with stories - soon enough his hands are flying, he is smirking and the audience is taken, enchanted. much like his writing, he is full of exclamation marks, detours, lengthy run-in sentences and exaggerations. this is the way cinema writing should be - a wild bumpy ride with fiery eyes and sweaty palms; its passion should be contagious.
i have only heard of "blood money" before, this was my first viewing (and on a large screen!). pre-code hollywood at its best - a fantastic ink-dripping-on-the-bedsheets opening, a seedy underworld in between (complete with cross-dressing bar patrons), and biting-your-nails finale with klepto- nymphomaniac masochist starlet asking for a thorough thrashing. note the double-layered dialog, and some pretty damn cool editing/visual details.
of course the main course was dreyer on a big screen - in this case dvd version pales in comparison (cue flashbacks to brainwashed festival in boston - who used it as visuals?). the witch is mesmerizing, the board-like stiffness of the old man, the shadows, the intricate sound, the long takes and the final confession. boisterous lutheran comedy, as maddin called it. sexy, sensual, ambiguous, easily elevated to the symbolic/fable-like quality, lending itself to many readings.
but returning to maddin - "brand..." is still firmly implanted in my visual memory - it is amazing the range of emotions it brought up; delicate, touching, beautiful and also lurid, seedy, slapstick - a truly filling joyous experience. the live component was just that - an addition of something that reacts to the film and the audience, adding a dimension of chance, craft, show - really one should experience that as a whole, then go back and just view the movie as it is - those two are different, and should be viewed as such. | | comments: Leave a comment |
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live orchestra + singing castrato + foley artists + lou reed reading + restored old theater.
possibly his best since "heart of the world"; i am still shell-shocked - "brand upon the brain" indeed | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Tags: | film, sf | | Security: | | | Time: | 02:07 pm |
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| the festival business is a tricky one for me - there is always a ghost of consumerism floating nearby - the obsessive-compulsive quest to see everything, without time to reflect and absorb. usually i cannot take more than one movie a day, but i promised myself i will try the festival thing at least a few times ("consume now, reflect later").
i also feel wrong justifying the need for watching mediocre stuff with the need to report it later, thus perpetuating the vicious cycle of crap; one can always end up making up morsels of worth from the debris, but it is not worth the amount of shit you have to put up with.
one of the concessions made is the tolerance threshold - so far i walked out of three movies, and it's only been one day (i've seen five, where two were collections of shorts).
highlights so far:
- "the denazification of mh" (part of the short films collection http://fest07.sffs.org/films/film_details.php?id=15). the music was so strangely familiar, but i could not place it, so i just enjoyed the imagery - grainy b&w stock, schwarzwald, often deteriorating into shadows; ghostly voice of heidegger on the background. when the credits rolled, i realized it was kammarheit's stuff off "asleep and well hidden" (love his stuff, love the label). perfect - a dark ambient wet dream with an intellectual flare and provocateur bent, how one can resist that? almost a year ago to this date i saw anselm kiefer's exhibit in montreal, and his fascination with schwarzwald, heidegger and the nazi legacy was something that came up in my mind while watching this. http://www.sf360.org/features/2006/12/james_t_hong.html
- bill morrison (the dude that did "decasia") - grudgingly (very grudgingly!) enjoyed the third piece of his "highwater trilogy" (part of above mentioned http://fest07.sffs.org/films/film_details.php?id=15) - the usual fascination with archive stock, sepia/b&w, drony roaring soundtrack, repetition, humans, water. i wanted to kick something during the first two chapters, since he was ruining beautiful stuff with poor editing and poor music. in retrospect it stays with you - affecting stuff.
- rob nillson - knew nothing about him, and although some of his clips were a bit cringetastic out of context, it was great to hear him (and his troopers) talk about their work - citizen action theater, real people, real situations; cassavetes and such. thought-provoking and enjoyable. note the encounter - one of the women that was helping with organization (donning headset and badges) used to be usher/ticket girl at our art center a few years ago; and i've seen her around the city as well. damn!
that's it for highlights. now for violently un-highlights:
- "amour-legende" if it were not so ambitious, it could be fun. but damn! i was squirming in my seat, pulling my hat over my eyes, feeling the audience' collective nails driving against the chalkboard - over, and over, and over again. suicide squirrels, cute actors, mix of spanish/english/japanese, kings in underground palaces, suicidal squirrels, expensive cars, occasional montage epiphany that makes me look away - a pretentious exotica-pop migamix reminiscent of medem's "sex and lucia" taken to the previously unknown syrupy heights. done with a mind of a 13yr old. i bolted out after 45 minutes and walked around for an hour, trying to get rid of the aftertaste with a whisky flask. just thinking about it makes me reach out for the flask.
- "ghost train" well, i did not expect much and i drank aplenty. still, noting director's affiliation with my favorite kiyoshi kurosawa movies, i was hoping for at least a glimpse of atmospheric murky depths of "kairo" or "cure"; instead it was the usual "flash", "bang" - jolt of scare in your seat - the stuff i cannot stand. all the recent genre staples were in place with an added teeth-shattering tackiness of teen girl character development. left halfway into it. the only highlight - a guy with a mohawk, tattoos, and a wife-beater next to me practicing karate movements with his hands. all the time during the movie.
finally, the non-highlight:
- glawogger's "slumming" - houellebecq for the big screen - rich spoiled capitalist brats, women that have the soul and will save all, likable boozers, dash of exotica to spice up the senses (thai midget dance group as a transgressive highlight). much tickling of entertainment glands with jokes and gags, but instantly forgettable afterwards. sehr schade - i have expected much more, given his documentaries.
resolution - careful about full-format movies; spend time on stuff that i cannot see otherwise - meta, talks, shorts, etc. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | still under the impression from "l'amour fou" this weekend; i was waiting for this ultimate moment throughout the whole retrospective, and it finally hit - when you stumble out, dazed and shell shocked, and the sun is still out, and the whole experience starts turning over and over in your head and you fall under the spell. i keep trying to internalize the whole thing, but i enjoy so much this feeling of spotting something so new to me, something so fascinatingly out of place, that i am almost afraid to pick it apart any further. | | comments: 5 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Subject: | nyc | | Time: | 12:56 pm | | Current Mood: | переносица в мозг переносится |
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| so far the cultural discovery of the week is "silicon dream":
(props to eismann) | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| the spirit is weak, the red is aplenty, the night is still
- "green mind, metal bats" (weak, but lovable; need to watch his first one)
- "the king of marving gardens" (loved, loved, loved his "5 easy pieces" - gradually liking it more and more; if not for this comparison... atmosphere is what stays - exaltation vs. calm winter days vs. loneliness; what happened to the director?? is he new borowczyk?)
- "ptu" (oh, christ)
- "breaking news" (my spirit is weak...)
- "the mission" (his later "exiled" seems to be its sequel... still, a few glasses/cups/mugs is a prerequisite)
- "innocence" (outstanding; photography + dread/suspense reminded me of rivette; camera movement; i wish they kept up the mystery and cut the ending)
- "la bande des quatre" (suspense, outrageous fashions, twisting and torturing the concept of storytelling, until you, as a viewer, plead for mercy - my two companions did - i giggled, but felt guilty)
- "le monde vivant" (outstanding; bresson meets monty python; ostentatious and touching, affecting, inventive, playful, absurd; it puts me in a trance of sorts - the rhythm of images/words is mesmerizing) | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | listening to vig mihály's "filmzenék" and "ciganydalok"; i forgot how amazing the music was for "damnation"; i did not like the movie as much as "werkmeister harmonies", but listening to the music divorced from the factual events of the plot, the effect is truly haunting. i probably would have never enjoyed it by itself, but luckily now it is inseparable from the tarr's images. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
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recently watched "drawing restraint 9" as well as a documentary on it ("matthew barney: no restraint") - both in the theater.
the documentary itself was pretty useless - a bunch of talking heads and behind-the-scenes footage of what already looked like behind the scenes footage. the only good moments were parts of earlier "drawing restraints..." (pre-cremaster), and vladislav delay used for background as credits rolled (track off "four quarters") - it sounded fantastic.
"cremaster" is still the best - baroque, self-indulgent, overwhelming with symbolism, sensual and perverse, haunting (insides of those blimps!), inventive; its imagery just sticks in your head. "cremasters" are so far above compared to "de lama lamina" (which i also got to see in the theatre) and "drawing restraing 9"; i wonder how much of it is a result of barbara gladstone's money, which brings us to the laments of the guy that wrote all those yet-to-be-carefully-read volumes of "critical cinema" - shirin neshat and barney got the money, what if some of the other filmmakers got some funding too? but then filmmaking is just a part of what he does; wait, wait - do you know where the demolition derby in cremaster3 comes from? could it be gordon matta-clark's "fresh kill"?
i also was struck by the eerie resemblance of barbara gladstone and our own curator of exhibitions - both are scary hags with irritating flamboyance of faux refinement (i remember the chills down my spine when she was fingering duchamp's "wedge of chastity" during an exhibition tour); guggenheim's nancy spector on the other hand, looked perfectly human.
what disturbs me about barney's approach to process art is the notion of mechanically following all the symptoms of art-making, hoping that at some point, somewhere, the substance, the soul, the meaning - whatever you call it - actually emerges. in "cremasters..." he lucks out, in early "restraints..." he lucks out as well turning them into a remarkable commentary from the football field... and then what?
perhaps it troubles me because i see this such an easy mode to fall into myself; or perhaps a link between performance art/process art - when any ritualized/contextualized movement becomes an object, a creation (or perhaps it just reminds me too much of braindead symbolic AI).
the back of the sho player and her hair with pearls in "drawing restraint 9" was worth the time; and some of the stills/framed photos were quite beautiful as well. so perhaps i will stick with my couple of "drawing restraint" books, despite the fact that one of them is in korean. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | now that it is -20C outside, and the dry snow squeaks as you walk, and your nostrils freeze together, it is particularly appropriate to recall how just a few weeks ago we were driving around at night on the nameless curvy roads in the mountains around sarchi and heredia outside of san jose, listening to kode 9 (starting to speak spanish like spaceape). it seemed perfectly out of place then, and the memory itself is perfectly out of place now. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| "junebug" - i have a weak stomach for this sort of character clashes that the director enjoys so much at first; it is almost impossible to watch it at home, since i am unconsciously pausing it every few minutes. i do like the locals - they seem to be over the top, but then i remember that i actually know a woman like that; the way they clash with the tight-lipped city woman (outsider art dealer courting darger-like character in north carolina) is a little too gleefully portrayed. it is an indie production that is just slightly outside of the "mainstream" indie (that staple formula of seedy violence or dysfunctional families as conventional outsiders portrayed as caricature). it is interesting how atmospheric it feels without people - these shots of rooms, driveways, staircases - pauses that bring in space and allow for reflection.
i guess i am still yearning for that perfect southern experience, since i have never been there and my only exposure are things like early jarmush and books like walker percy's "lancelot" or flannery o'connor (and perhaps music by dead hollywood stars - in fact, i am really looking for this enthusiastic adaptation of western motifs in electronica/ambient/experimental - something that is poppy, yet subversive; something with an atmospheric feel and yet with tension that makes your pinkies tingle with anticipation).
the week, however, was all about johnny to. i broke down and watched "exiled", "election" and "election 2". "elections..." were excellent - long moody stretches where you get to absorb the characters interrupted by brief streaks of violence; "exiled" was a lot more stylized, going for comedy and camp, with a lot of recognizable and twisted western homages. the shootout scenes were damn nice - colorful, stylish. granted, i barely watch yakuza/gangster/action stuff these days, so this could be my lack of exposure to the genre, but i recall how much i disliked "internal affairs" for its hollywood "tightness" and manipulative uses of cliches. i think for now i will watch "the mission" and "ptu", and we'll go from there. still, nothing beats an intelligent muscle man aka "running on karma". | | comments: Leave a comment |
| - the only good thing about "pan's labyrinth" was the child-killing monster (reminiscent of blade2 i suppose). at some point the story line reminded me of "mysterious skin" and i wished that the whole setup was more ambiguous (you never know whether the child is making the whole thing up or not). prerequisite - half a bottle of nicaragua rum
- "life of oharu" at the theater - i have very weak stomach for the type of the movies that essentially constitute dragging a baby seal out on the stage and then proceeding to club it to death for two hours to the audience's teary exaltation
- "secret defense" - atmosphere of suspense, doubling-up of characters (or morphing them into each other), use of time and non-factual episodes; a simple story line that through formal/stylistic means grows to be so much more (as usual, it is not at all about just telling the story). pastel colors, space, murkiness, even certain drowsy feel when the reality starts to slip, and the immediate plot becomes not as important
- "volver" - not as garish and vulgar as some of its immediate predecessors, but i still have problems with it - pulp fiction sensationalism that comes across as being told by a prude. there is no seduction - perhaps due to the nonchalant narration, or the obviousness of inversion used to arrive to evil. compare that to "secret defense" mentioned above; also note the mystical undertones (cue in "labyrinth" and "mysterious skin"). disclaimer - watched with half a bottle of panama rum
- "le film avenir" (ruiz) - there has been for 7 years a strange philanthropic secret society. its members, philokinetes, devote their energy and money to studying and promoting a fragment of film [...] the fragment runs only for 23 seconds and is in a loop. thus projected, it can last for hours, days, even years. [...] there is nothing exceptional in it unless - things are never simple - you practice daily what they call enlightened screenings. meaning a deep hypnotic state brought about by over-repetition of the revealing fragment. once you reach this state, you can see, so they say.
- "fidelite" (zulawski) - hysterical, trashy, megalomaniac (but not good enough to be worthy of "carax syndrom" diagnose). sadly, there are a few ideas that could have been interesting if developed properly
- "la vie nouvelle" (grandrieux) - perhaps watching it on a small screen did not do it justice, but its atmosphere was too brittle, too incomplete, too fragmented - failing to become engaging. occasional moments were worthy of mentioning (music, dance, etc), but overall it failed to impress - too many signs scattered around (and perhaps my lack of knowledge of his visual language). i do like the intention - the desire to find a new language, based on image and senses (unlike theatre/literature); perhaps it is more appropriate to view it as videoart, and this is the perspective i am intending to take for his debut movie (http://www.svoboda.org/programs/cicles/cinema/23/07.asp and http://rouge.com.au/1/grandrieux.html courtesy of panarchist)
- "little miss sunshine" - feelgood low-calorie tickling of entertainment glands. liberating dance was lovely
- "les astronautes" (marker, borowczyk) - first random association - "le bunker de la dernière rafale" (now imagine :w: doing an album around that!)
- "colloque de chiens" (ruiz) - in an orgy of random associations i want to bring up marker's "la jetée" (i know, i know...) and with the circular narrative and morphing of characters "secret defense" mentioned above | | comments: Leave a comment |
| finally got the time for myself and spent this new year's day properly - woke up at 1PM and watched garrel's "les amants réguliers" in headphones on a laptop screen, accompanied by a bottle of red.
i was waiting for a proper moment to watch this for almost a year. outstanding.
it was a little surprising how literal the first part of the film was (usually anything of this sort was left outside). the rest of the story is perceived against this literal backdrop. the fantastic series of cuts - she is offered NYC, she is crying, she wakes him up on the other side of town as she is descending the stairs. as usual the mood - the faces, the dance, the music that steps in just in time to distance the scene from the banal.
an excellent read: http://fosca.livejournal.com/170881.html (and i must say that i did find it peculiar how it reflected on bertolucci ("dreamers" popped up even before his name was mentioned)) | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | the festival is over and i hope i will have more thoughts on it later, but for now the highlights: people were remarkable (almost to the point of awkwardness in their kindness), organization was damn nice, and troum was the absolute highlight. many thanks to jon and to my kind hosts. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| finally found something thoroughly enjoyable - meet garth marenghi - writer, visionary, dreamweaver, plus actor.
only six episodes, but such a great imitation of over-the-top 80s super low-fi horror show, complete with pompous commentaries by garth himself and his co-star dean lerner. they got everything right - from the camerawork that at times looks like argento or carpenter to the music that could have been written by goblin or early badalamenti (or carpenter himself for that matter); not to mention titles like "the ooze (can water die?)," "afterbirth (a mutated placenta attacks bristol)," etc.
they have such a fine feel for the atmosphere of these shows, and they push them over the edge ever so lovingly. it is interesting to compare it to, say, "the mighty boosh" that is just plain annoying (so far i could barely watch three episodes from two seasons).
perhaps some of it is due to the things they are preying on - horror genre and tv is a winning combination, and there are plenty of conventions built up (just think mst3k). i think it is more likable than "brass eye" as far as tv satire goes, which despite a few moments of brilliance ("drugs" and "animals" episodes) was a little too vicious to be enjoyed.
i have not really seen anything good after "black books", "human remains", "spaced", and "jam", so i stopped for a while. every one of those was brilliant in its own right, and nothing really came close (many thanks to jill killjoy and destruktobot). stuff like "peep show" was pretty good, as well as "the office", although i cannot watch them alone due to the high cringing factor. "it crowd" was tolerable - just a filler, really (although it was nice to see chris morris). original "ali g" was ok, but i liked hbo's take on it better. "extras" had its moments, but too similar to "the office" in its effect. "look around you" was a one-off oddity that was fun in small doses. "big train" was just a promise of things to come in "spaced" (i only lasted a few episodes).
father ted, little britain, marion and geoff, i'm alan partridge - i did not watch more than a few episodes before i gave up.
"nathan barley" deserves a special mention. although a cunt that gets himself into situations that make one cringe, his world is quite addictive - perhaps due to chris morris' very accurate feel for the underbelly of that nostalgic dotcom boom of 2000 that felt the same in nathan's soho and nyc/la/austin (dotcom bubble places i've been to at the time). i can see why our sonorous media bon vivant feels so compelled to defend "self-propelled creative mogul." chris morris managed to show both the allure and the cuntish phoniness of these high-tech hipsters, and this is the main merit of the show. since it is pushed over the top, it defuses the repulsion and instead one marvels at all the creations like a watch that doubles up as an mp3 scratching deck, or a roommate working on his media suit that sounds remarkably like jason forrest aka donna summer. the interesting thing is that nathan became such an easy way to easily reference anything remotely hipster in its many forms (web2.0 anyone?) - a proof of how sensitive chris morris really is and how he is able to bring these things out.
of course i have to mention the classics - seasons two and three of "black adder" (i even got a book with all the scripts) that i watched at least a couple of times last year.
it seems like all the young and talented in UK do sitcoms as opposed to the movies. although i see it as an inferior genre, and i feel guilty when i succumb to this ADD-friendly entertainment. it also proved a wonderful common-ground entertainment for groups of people (organizing movie nights never worked out). plus it is always a lot easier to gulp down an episode or two when i am supposed to be doing something else, while film watching needs a more serious investment.
speaking of chris morris, i really like his "blue jam" radio series compilation (which i actually received way back in the day as a promo, but did not acknowledge it until recently); however his short film debut on warp was quite disappointing. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
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