Shadowlands

Antoine is a maitre d’ in a Paris brasserie, Chez Jean, and is so full of being of service to others that he can’t say ‘no’. Modern development for dinner with his girlfriend, Christine, he takes a shortcut home through the park but finds a stranger, Louis, in the act of committing suicide by hanging. Louis is distraught by the reduction of his girlfriend, Blanche, and is so grateful that he attaches himself to Antoine. Antoine arranges a job as far as something Louis – as a sommelier at Chez Jean and sets about trying to repair Louis’ life…

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Updated
Monday, June 19, 2006 15:20
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Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

The leftist French writer, photographer, editor, videographer, digital
multimedia artist and filmmaker Chris Marker (”Sans Soleil”), directed
and wrote “La Jetee” (which means The Pier). It’s perhaps best known today
as the movie that inspired Terry Gilliam’s 12 Monkeys. But it would be
remiss not to point out that this film shot on a shoe-string budget and
only being 27 minutes, still had a much greater impact than the bigger
budgeted full-length feature. 

It’s told through a sparse voice-over narration, the showing of black
and white still photos (the popular at the time French literary genre of
the photo-roman–photo-novel–a comic book form), and it uses an eerie
bittersweet score (featuring stock music cues, Russian choral music by
the Saint Alexander Nevsky Cathedral choir, and several music cues by the
popular British composer Trevor Duncan). 

Always confounding even when it seems accessible, the mysterious
and gripping plot raises unanswerable questions about time, memory and
the progress of life on this planet.

It’s a fictionalized account of a Paris just before and after World
War III. It begins at the pier of Orly airport some years before WWIII,
where there’s a haunting image of a woman’s face at the end of the pier.
It follows a man with no memory, living in the post-World War III Paris,
who is a survivor prisoner that underground commanders use as a guinea-pig
in a time-travel experiment run in their lab. This man was chosen because
of his vivid dreams, showing he’s obsessed upon the image of a young blonde
woman’s shocked expression after witnessing the shooting of a man; he was
a young boy at the time when he was visiting the pier at Orly before the
big war. The man is given a chance by his captors to discover for himself
the true significance of this incident. It leads to his return to the past
via dreams, turning down a trip to the future, and falling in love with
the same woman he saw at the pier who is now sleeping. She opens her eyes,
which is the only shot in the pic of movement–like in a film. 

It’s a tantalizing sci-fi short film, one I believe is a masterpiece,
that leaves us pondering over an impenetrable puzzle about mankind, its
future and the importance of love in a world where there doesn’t seem much
else to hold onto that’s as tangible. 

Demise of a
President
(2006) / Drama-Thriller
aka

D.O.A.P.

MPAA Rated: Not rated, but possibly
PG-13 proper for violence and language

Running Age: 95 min.
Cast: Hend Ayoub, Becky Ann
Baker, James Urbaniak, Brian Boland, Michael Reilly Burke, Neko Parham,
Jay Whittaker, Chavez Gorge, Jay Patterson
Director: Gabriel Range
Screenplay: Gabriel Range, Simon
Finch

While certainly a controversial big for
its depiction of the accomplishable scenario, as well as its reenactment, of the
assassination of George W. Bush on October 19, 2007 (over a year after the
release date of the movie), the actual film itself proves to be a tittle of a
yawner.  After over 90 minutes of seriously-presented fabulous documentary talking
heads and footage, what we for all end up learning is that the Bush
administration uses national tragedies in wonky to fixed shore up in doing what
it really wants to do, namely, quicken public fears in the Muslim terrorist
threat and beef up the Patriot Act so that it can have the ability to monitor
and apprehend whatever individuals and organizations they fancy.  It's
difficult to take it for granted anyone not already in tune with that message bothering to
watch this hypothetical documentary, so the most I can muster in terms of my
feelings toward it is, "Duh."
It takes about 45 minutes sooner than it gets to
the crux of the importance, but in a nutshell, President Bush is assassinated by a
sniper, and a Muslim employee who works in the adjacent erection is immediately
rounded up, detained, questioned, and, regard for a accomplished be deficient in of physical
evidence connecting him to the deed, tried for the murder.  The regime,
and in particular new Commander-in-Chief President Cheney's administration puts
all their eggs in this whole basket and is too heavily invested in implicating
this Muslim as the culprit in order to convince Congress and the American Public
that the Patriot Sham needs composed more rights-infringing powers that it never
really bothers looking for the person who capacity in reality beget been responsible
for Bush's expiry.
If one reads into the membrane with any amount
of depth, one can clearly see that British filmmaker Gabriel Range's concocted doc
(it was originally aired on the More4 channel in the UK) shows the modus
operandi of the Bush administration, how it scapegoats the immoral targets in
order to push forth higher agendas, and how it uses preexisting fears to extract
the support it needs to achieve those Machiavellian ends.  The total Iraq
War is largely seen as having been built upon that very premise.  Trade mark Aga, if
nothing else, is successful at getting his import across in the film, but I
don't entertain the idea his estimate is all that successful adequately as a obscure on its own to
merit much attention private of those who are outrageous, or those that order get a kick out of
anything provided they agree with its message.
The acting by all of the players in the
film is instance solid, although the "documentary" itself doesn't as a matter of fact satisfactorily
close to capturing what might as a matter of fact happen if there were real footage of Bush
being shot and how the media would rival that event out, as justly as the resulting
investigation.  Some of the pictures in which the actors' faces are
superimposed are convincing, although there is similar info footage where they
seem not allowed of place, and some re-dubbed speeches that have that "tampered with"
feel that takes you finished of the half a second to remind you that it's all a facade.
As far as films go, I never really felt as
interested or intellectually stimulated as I needed to be for
such a provocative premise to truly hit home.  At the same in unison a all the same, the
message of the covering, which is about our laical liberties being continuously
compromised as the government is Hades-bowed on blaming all of the evils of the
world on Al Qaeda, never seemed to tell me anything that I hadn't heard from a
mixture of other sources that put real footage of real events of loyal people —
it's already chance.  My recommendation to you is to merely guard against this
faux-documentary if you are insatiably curious, because you can see
government-sparked scapegoating and your rights eroding on any continuously of the week
by watching
the TV news.  

Qwipster's rating


:

©

2006 Vince Leo

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The sheet represents Henry Fonda’s return to the screen after an absence of seven years, area of which was spent playing the eponymous officer in the immensely successful stage version of Thomas Heggen’s novel. As cargo constable and substitute in command on a supply depart during The public War II, the weak Lt. Doug Roberts is excluded from a much desired feud task while playing tying attendant to dyspeptic tyrant Captain Morion (James Cagney). Ensign Unreserved Pulver (Jack Lemmon), a reckless still timid wheeler-dealer, entertains Roberts with his elaborate pranks while the well-meaning Doc (William Powell in his model screen appearance) offers advice. The young crew tries every available means of butchery ennui, including eyeballing the nurses on a nearby island through a telescope, and Roberts does what he can to get them the R and R they damagingly need. The film had a troubled production relation, mostly because of conflicts between Fonda, a friend of author Thomas Heggen’s, and Ford, who wished to urge changes that Fonda disliked. Shortly after physically attacking Fonda, Ford suffered a ruptured gallbladder and was replaced by Mervyn LeRoy. Fonda is excellent, and Lemmon gives an inspired, Oscar-winning performance in a film that flows evenly from the comic to the piteous and stands among the choicest Times a deliver Engagement II films produced in the 1950s.

It’s imaginativeness across the tracks time as reform school kid Sheffer goes on the run with Catholic schoolgirl Madsen in this unceasingly a once-passer which went straight-to-video in Britain. Trivia fans will tick the presence of Diversion’s Ann Savage in a small role as entire of the nuns. The title conceals a lachrymose irony: Duncan Gibbins, the British-born writer/director, perished when a forest inferno swallowed up his Los Angeles shelter in 1994.

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Prior to seeing X I had heard ceaseless important praise concerning it. Most of the hype surrounding it proclaimed it one of the best and most important anime films eternally released. Not unexpectedly, sadly I must break with the crowd of praise and say that X is far and away Possibly man of the most excruciatingly boring pictures I’ve on any occasion sat through. Of course, this may sound funny since most of it is filled with exploding buildings, wild battles between telepathist warriors, and heaping gobs of bloody spit. Unfortunately, by the time the relief arrives, you’ll have to be awakened to appreciate it.

X’s plot is a confusing mishmash of dark and alchemical themes based on a popular Japanese comical that, from what I’ve been told, makes more intelligibility because it’s really long. As it begins, a prepubescent man named Kamui is returning to his home in Tokyo in order to find two old friends of his. When he arrives, all Dis breaks loose and a bunch of top-notch warriors start armageddon reactionary in the streets. As it turns out, the forces of the Earth Dragon (the bad guys) and the forces of the Heaven’s Dragon (the good guys) are locked in a fierce battle to decide the fate of the everybody. These warriors are basically normal people, but all of them entertain superhero abilities, combat and magic/psychic power form, and so they’ve been conscripted to servants whichever side turned them first. Kamui learns that he is to be the one that force, according to destiny, help the Heaven’s Dragon side victory, but refuses to so for selfish reasons.

He eventually agrees, however, because his youth friends are kidnapped and tainted by the Soil Dragon side. So, fierce battles turn up dawn on between the two teams at exact “shield points” all over Tokyo where, if honourable guys are defeated, the whole world will be controlled by evil. At least I assume that’s the central gist of the tale; it confused the heck abroad of me. I don’t mind a ‘thinking’ film, but I do mind when a script is so inexpertly written that it has to backpedal for 50 minutes just to clear things up, and smooth then you’re to not sure what’s going on. This is NOT an inflation, I literally counted it. It is for this persuade that X tests my serenity, strikingly when the spew of the most exciting portions are disrupted by talky, lengthy sequences that one work to re-explain something we already grasp for the duration of the fifth schedule.

I’ll award an example: There’s a sequence in which Kamui talks give the fate of Earth with a benevolent psychic that tries to persuade him to join the good side. A cheap later, we learn that Kamui’s fried, Fumi, is his spiritual ‘flip-side’ and that he will be induced to join the grouchy guys. So, literally, the unalloyed sequence is repeated almost scene in search landscape, while the priestess leader of the evil ones tries to convince him to join THEIR side. By the time some energy-packed set shows up, there’s little to get excited over because after 3-4 minutes, we’ll be back in another plan cul-de-sac where more endless talk explains, all again, that the world will bring to an end if the Earth’s Dragons win the fight. I will grant that the filmmakers have an surprising gift for visuals as well as well-disciplined, powerful fight sequences. It’s just too bad they weren’t used more. The artwork is also owing, almost painfully correctly animated. It is overt that someone wants to desperately blow people away with mind-numbing intensity here, but then why did they spend so much time on repeated reverie sequences and pinched out debates? The sorrowful junk is, even with the agonizing “talky bits,” none of the characters are fleshed out in the least. They might as well be Joe Bob X and Joe Bob Y skewering each other with acid objects because I’d be willing to bet you won’t remember a unique supporting character’s name.

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The other dominating enigma I had was that it all seemed to appeal to the lowest common denominator in terms of anime audiences. Anime has a status be known to save extremes of distort and every now bonking, but these factors are mainly handled “tastefully” and in a measured manner. However, when an anime really has little else other than ferocity, it upset me. Do, after the 80th many times you make sure blood spatter across a wall as someone’s limbs are disintegrated or torso is pierced, X begins to fritter it’s more. I mean, does the anime world REALLY need another villainess who dresses like a model for your town leather totem blow the whistle on buy? Do we really need another perky teenage bird hero in a skipper suit? One of the Heaven’s Dragons, Karen, in point of fact doesn’t even wear clothes, straight a scenery of lingerie. Why not just a in the altogether hieroglyphic? A strange current of misogyny runs in this film, and I debilitate of anime that endlessly brutalizes its female characters. In a host of imagine sequences, inseparable particular female (the only ‘innocent’ distinction in the whole show) is killed more than three times in amazingly dangerous ways. This is everything that gives anime a bad name to non-fans, and it’s poured on in buckets here. If someone were to write a book of pure Japanese vitality clichÈs, X would be ultimate textbook example.

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Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

This is a follow up to my review of the original film made in 1993.
The director’s cut was made in 2004 and released in 2007; it offers 6 hours
of extras not found in the original and includes a bunch of personal interviews
from the likes of Baez, Burroughs, Brakhage, Ferlinghetti, Glass and others;
it also adds scenes from Allen’s last three days on Earth as a spirit,
which is by Jonas Mekas. 

It’s a straightforward linear biopic about the transformation of
noted American poet Allen Ginsberg from a conforming nice Jewish boy to
a significant leadership role in the protest movements of the last half
of the 20th century. It should please alike fans and newcomers to the poet.

Allen was born in Newark, New Jersey, in 1926, to Russian immigrant
parents escaping from the pogroms. Jerry Aronson’s documentary, in part
in b/w and in part color, does itself justice by capturing the bard through
family snapshots, talking-head interviews and archive footage of his poetry
readings. It’s more informative than provocative, but worth seeing for
all the memories of cultural changes it evokes. Allen died in 1998, so
the film leaves off at the point where he seemed more mellow and was teaching
at Brooklyn College and concerned with his physical state of being.

Allen emerged through the decades of the 1950s and onward as an easily
recognized and accepted icon for those of the counterculture movement alienated
from the system. He was a colorful character, noted for his generosity
and seriousness to the cause of world peace. The film opens with him reading
a poem summing up his philosophy that “the weight of the world is love.”

In the 1940s Allen was shy and in the closet about his homosexuality.
While at Columbia he met Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs, and opened
up to them about his repressed feelings. He felt comfortable to tell Kerouac
he was gay, which is the first time he let that be known. Their “dharma
bums” friendship was chronicled by Kerouac, as the Beat literary scene
was introduced by them to the world. Allen’s father was a respected high
school teacher and minor poet, while mom Naomi was a paranoid who ended
up in a mental institution during Allen’s formative childhood years. Her
mental illness left Allen caught in her sufferings, something that became
a part of his own personality and gave him an added need to work for a
more gentle world. 

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In the 1950s Allen became liberated and broke away from his childhood
middle-class conformity by becoming a bohemian character and hanging out
with such Beat luminaries as Kerouac, Burroughs, Hunke, and Cassady. He
wrote during this time his two most well-known poems “Howl” and “Kaddish.”
With the Vietnam War in the ’60s, he became a more peaceful symbol of political
protest against the war, as he became an activist and a kindly father figure
of the hippies and the children of “flower power.” Allen became a cosmic
public defender, fighting to save the universe from being torn apart by
strife. At this time he was taking psychedelic drugs, but in his meeting
with Timothy Leary he cautioned that the drugs should be used for spiritual
growth. The 28-year-old Allen also met the 21-year-old handsome artist
Peter Orlovsky, and they became longtime lovers. During the bloody 1968
Democratic Convention, Allen was a voice of calm chanting Buddhist mantras
in Grant Park to the more peaceful demonstrators. In 1970 Allen accidently
met the Tibetan lama Chögyam Trungpa
on a NYC street and joined the lama’s Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado,
teaching poetry. It was a spontaneous poetry, where “first thought is best
thought.” 

The death of his beloved father Louis in 1976 left him saddened,
but he was inspired to write a moving poem, “Father’s Death,” dedicated
to his father as he took the jet back from Boulder to attend the funeral
in New Jersey. In the ’80s and ’90s the poet continued to be a voice of
social protest against the nuclear buildup and the de-humanization of the
world.

On a personal note, I got to know Allen somewhat and know first-hand
what a generous and compassionate person he really was. I have never heard
anyone who knew him say that he wasn’t a kind person. In the many poetry
readings I attended of Allen’s, there was always a magical quality in those
readings that was inspiring. The documentary was satisfying in recounting
some of the major events in his life and presented a good account of Ginsberg’s
many accomplishments; it does itself most proud when it shows Allen reading
from his poems. Due to time constraints it, through no fault of its own,
nevertheless left out much of Allen’s controversies and also his love for
the poets William Blake, Walt Whitman, and William Carlos Williams. 

This film is a must see for Allen’s fans and for newcomers to the
bard, who want to get caught up on his personal life and take in his powerful
poetry readings. It brought back wonderful memories of Allen, someone who
is truly missed for his love, generosity, poetry and intellectual honesty.
As filmmaker Brakhage reminds us in his interview, Allen was fond of quoting
Tennesseee Williams’ “Nothing human disgusts me, except deliberate cruelty.”

Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

This is a follow up to my review of the original film made in 1993.
The director’s cut was made in 2004 and released in 2007; it offers 6 hours
of extras not found in the original and includes a bunch of personal interviews
from the likes of Baez, Burroughs, Brakhage, Ferlinghetti, Glass and others;
it also adds scenes from Allen’s last three days on Earth as a spirit,
which is by Jonas Mekas. 

It’s a straightforward linear biopic about the transformation of
noted American poet Allen Ginsberg from a conforming nice Jewish boy to
a significant leadership role in the protest movements of the last half
of the 20th century. It should please alike fans and newcomers to the poet.

Allen was born in Newark, New Jersey, in 1926, to Russian immigrant
parents escaping from the pogroms. Jerry Aronson’s documentary, in part
in b/w and in part color, does itself justice by capturing the bard through
family snapshots, talking-head interviews and archive footage of his poetry
readings. It’s more informative than provocative, but worth seeing for
all the memories of cultural changes it evokes. Allen died in 1998, so
the film leaves off at the point where he seemed more mellow and was teaching
at Brooklyn College and concerned with his physical state of being.

Allen emerged through the decades of the 1950s and onward as an easily
recognized and accepted icon for those of the counterculture movement alienated
from the system. He was a colorful character, noted for his generosity
and seriousness to the cause of world peace. The film opens with him reading
a poem summing up his philosophy that “the weight of the world is love.”

In the 1940s Allen was shy and in the closet about his homosexuality.
While at Columbia he met Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs, and opened
up to them about his repressed feelings. He felt comfortable to tell Kerouac
he was gay, which is the first time he let that be known. Their “dharma
bums” friendship was chronicled by Kerouac, as the Beat literary scene
was introduced by them to the world. Allen’s father was a respected high
school teacher and minor poet, while mom Naomi was a paranoid who ended
up in a mental institution during Allen’s formative childhood years. Her
mental illness left Allen caught in her sufferings, something that became
a part of his own personality and gave him an added need to work for a
more gentle world. 

download Yui FREE mp3

In the 1950s Allen became liberated and broke away from his childhood
middle-class conformity by becoming a bohemian character and hanging out
with such Beat luminaries as Kerouac, Burroughs, Hunke, and Cassady. He
wrote during this time his two most well-known poems “Howl” and “Kaddish.”
With the Vietnam War in the ’60s, he became a more peaceful symbol of political
protest against the war, as he became an activist and a kindly father figure
of the hippies and the children of “flower power.” Allen became a cosmic
public defender, fighting to save the universe from being torn apart by
strife. At this time he was taking psychedelic drugs, but in his meeting
with Timothy Leary he cautioned that the drugs should be used for spiritual
growth. The 28-year-old Allen also met the 21-year-old handsome artist
Peter Orlovsky, and they became longtime lovers. During the bloody 1968
Democratic Convention, Allen was a voice of calm chanting Buddhist mantras
in Grant Park to the more peaceful demonstrators. In 1970 Allen accidently
met the Tibetan lama Chögyam Trungpa
on a NYC street and joined the lama’s Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado,
teaching poetry. It was a spontaneous poetry, where “first thought is best
thought.” 

The death of his beloved father Louis in 1976 left him saddened,
but he was inspired to write a moving poem, “Father’s Death,” dedicated
to his father as he took the jet back from Boulder to attend the funeral
in New Jersey. In the ’80s and ’90s the poet continued to be a voice of
social protest against the nuclear buildup and the de-humanization of the
world.

On a personal note, I got to know Allen somewhat and know first-hand
what a generous and compassionate person he really was. I have never heard
anyone who knew him say that he wasn’t a kind person. In the many poetry
readings I attended of Allen’s, there was always a magical quality in those
readings that was inspiring. The documentary was satisfying in recounting
some of the major events in his life and presented a good account of Ginsberg’s
many accomplishments; it does itself most proud when it shows Allen reading
from his poems. Due to time constraints it, through no fault of its own,
nevertheless left out much of Allen’s controversies and also his love for
the poets William Blake, Walt Whitman, and William Carlos Williams. 

This film is a must see for Allen’s fans and for newcomers to the
bard, who want to get caught up on his personal life and take in his powerful
poetry readings. It brought back wonderful memories of Allen, someone who
is truly missed for his love, generosity, poetry and intellectual honesty.
As filmmaker Brakhage reminds us in his interview, Allen was fond of quoting
Tennesseee Williams’ “Nothing human disgusts me, except deliberate cruelty.”

This directorial enter convinces in its exploration of mental ferment, but fumbles the task of assembling a lucid recital. In a medieval community, a peasant (Morse) becomes obsessed with the peculiar chapel’s figure of the Virgin, and, unmixed a sacred anchoress, is walled up in the construction with the object of her passion. With exclusively a small window to the world, the girl creates a prosperity interior province throughout herself, but in the process becomes something of a out-of-towner attraction and longs quest of frankness. The dusting is most tough during the cubicle-determined mid-measure out, contrasting the heroine’s innocence with the machinations of Church and Assert. Aided by lustrous b/w cinematography, Newby delineates the textures of her pastoral surroundings to hallucinatory effect.

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