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  • NYFF: I’m Not There

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    Todd Haynes’ I’m Not There is a postmortem–but of what, exactly? It opens with the examination of a corpse, played by Cate Blanchett; the press notes tell us we’re supposed to connect this image to Bob Dylan’s 1968 motorcycle accident, in which he almost died but didn’t, and after which he was allegedly never the same. So on some level, it’s a love letter to a dead man whose body is still with us-–although, at the press conference following the New York Film Festival screening of the film yesterday, Haynes kept referring to Dylan in the past tense, as though his own private Dylan was long gone and never to return–but it’s also a catalogue of various shards of the dead culture of the 1960s. It’s as vital as it sounds: like so many of Haynes’ films, it’s based on a provocative concept that plays in practice like a museum piece.

    It’s a collage of personality impressions and visual styles. Grainy, fluttering black and white gives way to a bottle green landscape, spotted with the second best psychedelic lens flares of the NYFF thus far. The film’s hallucinatory logic seems at first to defy any kind of stricture, until the references start to stack up: visual quotations from Dylan album covers, The Beatles doing silent comedy, La Strada; actual, scripted quotations from at least two Godard films. Each of the six protagonists is a walking (though hardly living or breathing) quotation, a riff on a Dylan phase or personality thread. A young ruffian who uses poetry to deliver uncomfortable truths to The Man. A prepubescent compulsive liar. A misunderstood prophet who finds his true calling by turning to God. An aging cowboy in hiding, laying low in a town obsessed with Halloween. A bad actor who becomes a big star and neglects the woman he loves. A put-opon speed freak who uses pop music to deliver uncomfortable truths to The Man.

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  • Masters of Horror May Face Network Horror

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    Remember Masters of Horror? The name-brand horror directors anthology series on Showtime that gave birth to Valerie on the Stairs, as well as Joe Dante’s inimitable Homecoming, in which zombie veterans rise from their graves to storm the voting booths? Although Showtime has declined to pick it up for a third season, Masters executive producer Mick Garris and his team have signed a new deal to produce a similar show for NBC. This definitely means the show will attract more eyeballs, and it probably means the producers will have higher budgets, both of which will make luring talent easier. So this is good news for horror fans, right?

    Wrong. Film Junk’s Sean writes: “The problem is that a network environment will be extremely limiting for a horror series — blood and gore will have to be borderline non-existent. I suppose there would always be the option for unrated DVD releases afterwards, but I find it hard to believe that the content wouldn’t suffer because of it.”

    He may have a point. Take a look at the Homecoming trailer above. It’s a total sanitization of the movie, and I still can’t imagine ever seeing that shot of the guy on the table with the missing legs network TV. For more on Dante’s Homecoming, you must read Grady Hendrix’s Slate piece from December 2005, here.


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  • Sofia Minis. Clip of the Day.

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    The Shamus points to five silent microshorts starring Sofia Coppola, designed to promote her line of canned sparkling wine. I bet this is the kind of thing that will really infuriate those who hated Marie Antoinette on the grounds that Daddy’s Little Girl was getting away with self-indulgent murder. I loved Marie Antoinette, and as far as alcoholic beverages distributed in Red Bull canisters go, I think Sofia is pretty good. I’ve embedded my favorite of the clips above; you’ll find the rest here.


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  • Window Dressings By Miranda July

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    rear_miranda_july.jpgThe Thing is a new project out of the Bay Area, through which four filmmakers, artists and musicians a year will create art works, which will then distributed to subscribers on a quarterly basis. The artists are held to two rules: each piece must be based on an “every day object”, and each art work must incorporate text. Each project is reproduced by hand, and then mailed to subscribers, who pay $160/year for all four works, including shipping.

    The first Thing, a set of window shades emblazoned with hand-painted disclaimers and pleas, comes from the mind of filmmaker/performance artist . There’s photo documentation of the Thing crew painting and preparing the shades for shipping here, and for more information on subscriptions, go here.

    [Via The Underwire]


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  • Worst Asian Characters

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    roonlg.jpg“When a “gong” sound announces your arrival on the scene, the odds are fairly high that you’re not a great asian character.” Thoughts on Long Duck Dong, Mickey Rooney as Mr. Yunioshi, and the rest of the 9 Worst Asian Characters of All Time, at Suicide Girls.


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  • Dancing With The Stars: Mark Cuban’s Hobo Show

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    Apologies for the poor quality video, but above you’ll find evidence of sometime-movie mogul Mark Cuban’s debut on Dancing With the Stars. The Magnolia Pictures chief/simultaneous distribution evangelist/financier and distributor of Brian DePalma’s Redacted performed last night; his fate as a reality TV star will be decided by “America” tonight.

    What you don’t see above is the prologue, which you can allegedly watch on ABC.com (I’m still waiting for the video to load). In a segment designed to introduce the audience to Cuban and his partner, Kym, Cuban revealed that he had hip replacement surgery just seven weeks before rehearsals began for Dancing With the Stars. “Most people are still on crutches,” Cuban says, lifting up his practice shorts to reveal a massive scar. Kym’s voiceover commends Cuban for working through the pain while we watch footage of him practicing with a tortured expression on his face. Cut to Cuban, interview style: “I’m not going through all this pain and agony just because. I’m there to win.”

    It strikes me that, whether it’s his doing or that of Dancing’s producers, Cuban has managed to hit on a magic combination of about 100 winning reality TV cliches: rich fish out of water, an American Idol’s beginner’s enthusiasm for competitive performance, Extreme Makeover-branded physical struggle, non-household name reifying his stardom by going on a show mostly staffed by declining B-listers united in the deception that they’re so famous they don’t need to be there. On a show like this, it seems like a brilliant strategy: the audience, it seems, unfailingly rewards not those who perform well, but those who perform *surprisingly* well.

    More on the dance itself after the jump.

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