Between the newly inflated Best Picture category, the battle-of-the-sexes banter, the joy from fanboydom, the shenanigans of an over-zealous producer, and the feigned ex-spousal rivalry drummed up by the media, the Interweb has been all ablaze with Oscar-related stories at a rate that far exceeds previous years, or so it seems. (I guess it's a distraction from discussing economic genocide.)
Few of the films I cared about in 2009 are represented among the nominees, and those that are stand little chance of winning, at least if the terabytes of speculation discharged over the past months are any indicator.
That said, there's still part of me that looks forward to the event -- the tacky pageantry, the fake smiles, the caked-on veneer, and most of all the chance that somebody says something either terribly poignant or unbelievably stupid.
Which is why for the third year in a row I'll be participating in GreenCine's Oscar Live Blog this Sunday, along with some of the bestest and brightest voices from the world of cinematic musings, including festival darling Matt Singer, the recently recuperated Lisa Rosman, Eric Kohn, Josh Ralske, Steve Dollar (who outdoes me for curmudgeonliness), James Rocchi (a dooly appointed federal mahshall), and Jürgen Fauth & Marcy Demansky (the Nick and Nora Charles of online film criticism). The event is hosted by Greencine's own Craig Phillips and Aaron Hillis.
The fun begins at 7:30EST/4:30PST, and the best part is that you are all welcome to participate. Just login at this address and join in on the conversation. I'll be the one in the corner scowling about the lack of nominations for Julia and The Informant!
Well, it's not quite the long-promised return to blogging (which, as Buddha is my witness, will happen in the near future) but I did want to mention that besides my occasionalstint at TimeOutNewYork, or getting beat-up over at Salon.com, the fine folks at across the pond at Eye For Film have asked me to contribute to their fine site, and my first review for them, The Ghost Writer (directed by some Polish guy) has just been posted.
Inspired by my good friend Adrian Curry, whose Movie Posters of the Decade post over at The Auteurs led critic (and Twitter fiend) Roger Ebert to issue forth a "bleh" (and then respond with his own choices), I thought I'd join in on the fun and put together a post on posters as well.
Yet rather than "best" or "favorite" I decided to focus on films and/or posters that aren't as well known here in the States -- things I saw at film festivals, or in a Paris Metro station, a billboard in Shinjuku, etc. Others I simply stumbled upon online.
Not all of these are great films. Some are quite bad, in fact. Also, I'm not making any claims as to the design quality of these posters -- some might violate every rule or standard -- but each of them caught my attention (sometimes for embarrassingly simple reasons) and remained memorable enough for me to recall them for this little divertissement.
Where applicable, I've made some attempts at grouping them either by theme or style, but please don't read too much into that. It's simply an alternative from the numbered list approach.
Oh, one or two are NSFW so you might want to think twice before peeking below the fold. Then again, who has W anymore?
Les Plus Belles Femmes...
La Belle Personne (2008)
Another tale of l'amour fou from director Christophe Honoré, but this time set in high school. It's nowhere near as interesting as Love Songs or Dans Paris, but there's something about the poster -- is it the red background or simply the haunting Léa Seydoux and her disembodied head? Come to think of it, this might just be a bit of poor Photoshopping. Regardless, there was something about seeing this plastered all over Paris that left its mark. Bonus bit of trivia - actress Léa Seydoux can be seen, briefly, in Inglourious Basterds, playing one of the farmer's daughters in the opening sequence.
Hadewijch (2009) Speaking of Photoshop, there's a bit too much magic applied to Julie Sokolowski's skin (see comparison here), but I guess the designer wanted to give an angelic, ethereal look to the young actress who gets her Christ on in this magnificent film. Look -- she's staring right at you, but thinking of him...
Pas Douce (2007) Though not quite as inappropriate as the The Death of Mr. Lazarescu poster that Adrian referenced, this one for Jeanne Waltz's film is both extremely odd and misleading. A drama about the relationship between a young woman (Isild Le Besco) and the teenager she cripples during a failed suicide attempt is here marketed like....what...a magazine cover? A deodorant ad? The poster may say nothing about the film, but there's something spontaneous and natural about it that works. Bonus points for using a somewhat unflattering picture of Le Besco.
After a two month unplanned hiatus, Like Anna Karina's Sweater is back, and with a new look to boot. It was never my intention to stay away for so long, but matters both personal and professional consumed nearly all of my waking hours. Running a small business in this economic climate, and specifically a DVD business -- well, let's just say that the money isn't pouring in. Still, there are some very exciting developments with Benten/Watchmaker that will be announced in the coming weeks.
As a means of celebrating the blog's revival, I thought I'd offer a gift to all of you -- an unofficial (and unauthorized) soundtrack to the 2009 New York Film Festival, which is currently in its waning days. I'll have much more to say about the festival in future posts, which was quite a mixed bag this year, but not without a few genuine surprises (Hadewijch) as well as the inevitable "how-did-this-wind-up-here?" bombs (Precious: Based On The Novel Push By Sapphire).
Putting together the following compilation was a labor of love, and I spent what can only be described as an unhealthy amount of time tracking some of them down. It's certainly far from complete, and there are a few critical tracks I wanted to add but couldn't find information about them (namely, two songs from Hadewijch).
For those not in the know, the ingenue on the makeshift CD cover is Sylvia Miles, who's been in everything from Midnight Cowboy to Wall St. to Go Go Tales. She's been a staple at the NYFF press screenings for ages, and this year she made an unexpected appearance in a podcast I recorded with Aaron Hillis and Armond White.
Fifteen tracks that make up an eclectic mix, to say the least. I did my best to find a sequencing that isn't too schizophrenic, and I'm extremely proud of the Handel --> Bobby Brown segue. I'd like to give a special thanks to Gina Telaroli who helped me out with some of the tracks from films that played at Views From the Avant Garde. Download links are below. If you like it (or even if you hate it), please leave a comment. Enjoy!
Tracklisting:
20th Century Fox Fanfare (Wild Grass)
Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott (The White Ribbon)
Johnny Guitar - Jeanne Balibar (Ne Change Rien)
The Werewolf Song - Cat Power (Broken Embraces)
Ich hab Dich Lieb - Herbert Grönemeyer (Everyone Else)
The extra-long all-opening-credits round of the Filmbrain Screen Capture Quiz is finally over!
Regular contestant Max G. was the lone voice in the wind this week as he (somehow!) recognized the blue curtain and moon behind it from the opening of Francis Ford Coppola's One From the Heart, a desert-island movie if ever there was one.
This is the film that drove Coppola into bankruptcy, and forced him to take on studio fare such as the truly awful Jack. But you know what? It was worth it. Rebuilding Vegas on a soundstage allowed DP Vittorio Storaro to do unbelievable things with lights. And then of course there are the songs by Tom Waits and Crystal Gayle....sheer bliss.
Congratulations to Max for getting a perfect score -- I'm thoroughly impressed. I'd also like to thank everybody else who participated in what turned out to be the most successful round yet!
Check back next week (or maybe in two...three...) for an all new round!
Wednesday came and went, as did Thursday. It was only late last night that I found the time to tally up the entries for the round. It appears there are three people who managed to get all sixteen correct, and as a result a tie-breaker round (or rounds) will be needed.
I'll have to spend some time this weekend thinking and searching for additional interesting title sequences. Check back on Wednesday for the first tie-breaker.
[Update: Forgot to include the answer to last week's quiz. It was of course The Mouse that Roared, hence the rodent on the pedestal that frightened away the Columbia Torch Lady.]
A variation of the 20th Century Fox logo on a Los Angeles billboard appears at the beginning of Mel Brooks' triumphant experiment, Silent Movie, from 1976. There were some pretty far-out guesses (Aliens?) but most managed to work it out.
I wrote a primer of sorts this week on the films of Sion Sono (Love Exposure, Suicide Club) over at Greencine Daily. It was meant to be peppered with quotes, but my allotted interview time with him was cut severely short. Very frustrating. I also participated in an email exchange with Fin de Cinema's Joe Bowman about Love Exposure, which will appear on The Auteurs Notebook sometime this week. It's been a week of Sono on the brain-o. [Update:Click here to read the discussion.]
Well, here we are at the final quiz of this extended round. I had hoped to close it with something from an end credits sequence, but couldn't find anything interesting enough on short notice.
This week: Another bit of fun with an iconic studio logo. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
Not "3T" but a reversed French "ET", from the end credits that are the opening credits of bad boy Gaspar Noé's Irreversible. Only a few managed to identify it, but the range of answers was certainly interesting -- everything from Godard, to Hartley, to Miike and even Tom O'Horgan. Well spotted, fellow fans of rampant misanthropy.
The Smashing Pumpkins song referred to in the alt-text? The End is the Beginning is the End, of course.
This week: Where will you find this art-deco-ish version of the 20th Century Fox logo? Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
Yeah, yeah...my alt-text clues are way too easy. I thought artificial sweeteners were beyond passé, and therefore no longer part of the zeitgeist. Shows to go ya....
A Woody Allen credit sequence is a Woody Allen credit sequence...etc. and though Santo Loquasto has served as production designer on over 79 of the Woodmans' films, it was Sweet & Lowdown from whence the capture came.
Though my posts here (outside of the quiz) have dwindled to naught (as the song goes, a change is gonna come), I'm still spouting off on things cinematic and alcoholic on Twitter: Filmbrain in bite-size morsels. Stop by and say hello.
I was under the impression that this was the final quiz of this extended round, but only now did I realize that there's still two weeks more. Oh well.
This week: it's all about the alt-text clue. Have tried for new heights in vagueness. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
Here I was thinking that last week's quiz was too difficult. Not the case, apparently, as few of you had problems spotting Powell and Pressburger's 1945 romcom, I Know Where I'm Going. As mentioned last week, it's a remarkable credit sequence that doubles as a bit of back-story on our heroine Joan Webster (Wendy Hiller).
A quick plug: This Friday sees the start of the 2009 New York Asian Film Festival, and the Subway Cinema gang have truly outdone themselves this year. I've been trying to cram in as many titles as possible, and one of them, Sono Sion's Love Exposure is a must-not-miss. Don't let the four-hour running time frighten you -- there's not a dull minute in this complex psycho-drama that deals with religion, guilt, sin, voyeurism and, yes, love. At the moment it's the best undistributed film I've seen in 2009. I'll be writing about this film and (perhaps) others over at The Auteurs in the coming weeks.
This week's quiz: definitely unfair. Or is it? Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
Years before he directed Forrest Gump 2, David Fincher was up to much nastier things, like putting Gwyneth Paltrow's head in a box. A genuinely disturbing serial-killer film, Seven (or, Se7en, if you prefer) hasn't lost any of its punch fourteen years later. Kyle Cooper's opening credit sequence does a magnificent job of setting the tone, and it's full of freeze-frame treats, as last week's quiz revealed.
The alt-text clue was a reference to the fairly-unknown Soviet film Pyshka (Пышка), from 1934, a poster of which is shown hanging in Brad Pitt's apartment. (It's a detail that always bothered me -- I never bought that a none-too-bright detective would have own such a poster. Oh well.)
This week's quiz is significantly more difficult. It's somewhat unique in that the credits are buried within an expository sequence, as you can see a bit of on the side of the truck. Good luck! Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
1989 the number, another summer.... Can you believe it was nearly 20 years ago today (well, in about three weeks) that Spike Lee's controversial and groundbreaking Do The Right Thing was released? I was working in London at the time, where the film actually opened a week before the US release. The papers there were predicting riots, and there were calls from some sectors for a boycott. There was something almost surreal about seeing a film so specific to my home in an environment so far removed from what was on the screen. That the post-screening discussion with colleagues was, how shall I say, less than progressive only increased my desire to be back in NYC.
There were some questions about the Obama reference in the alt-text clue: on their first-ever date, Barack and Michelle went to see Spike's film. Not the greatest date film, but perhaps an inspiring one? Fight the power indeed.
This week -- an opening credit sequence that is even more unsettling than the film that follows. Too easy, but too good not to include. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
Just realized it's Wednesday.....three-day weekends really mess with my schedule.
Retro in more than just its title sequence, Peyton Reed's Down With Love was a PoMo twist on the Doris Day/Rock Hudson romantic comedies (Pillow Talk, Lover Come Back) of the early 60s. It's far from perfect, and I didn't actually catch up with it until a couple of years ago, but its charm supersedes its flaws. There were, perhaps unsurprisingly, only a handful of correct submissions. Congrats to those that got it.
To answer a question asked by more than a few people -- yes, I have every intention of bringing the blog back to life. The short reason for the delay -- not enough hours in the day. Between work on Benten's upcoming release The Good Times Kid, planning for Fish Eyes, writing the occasional review for Time Out New York, and finalizing the deals on some very exciting future projects, there's just been little time to write anything longer than 140 characters. Yes, I've been bitten by the Twitter bug. Horrifying.
This week's belated entry -- a reprieve after last week's challenging one. Everyone should know this film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
Those who know me best know that I have more than a slight problem with the films of Steven Spielberg. The mommy/daddy issues, his cheap overuse of child-in-peril moments, and his utter lack of subtlety. (But I don't wish to open that can of worms now.) Yet his 2002 biopic, Catch Me If You Can, hit all the right notes (even if it did have its fair share of mommy/daddy issues.) This was Spielberg working in a classic-Hollywood vein, and it begins with the opening credits, which are an homage to Saul Bass, brilliantly executed by Kuntzel & Deygas.
The noise this week in film-land is of course the Cannes Film Festival, and no other film has attracted even a tenth of the attention given to Lars von Trier's Antichrist, which left viewers shocked, angry, disgusted, etc. Naturally there were the old cries of "misogynist", which, as in the past, are terribly misguided. I've been searching for an article I read some years back that filters LvT's alleged misogyny through the philosophy of Luce Irigaray -- if I find it I'll post something about it. While it's true I haven't yet seen Antichrist, I'm confident Lars' ethos has remained the same.
This week -- something not dissimilar to Catch Me If You Can. But the question is -- original period piece, or throwback? Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
I'm not a huge fan of establishing shots, yet the credit sequence of Dog Day Afternoon, which is nothing but a montage (set to an Elton John song) that keys us in to place and temperature, works extremely well. It's a travelogue of the NYC of my youth, and it does succeed in setting the mood and tone of the film. The way Sonny and Sal suddenly appear towards the end is kind of wonderful.
The alt-text clue refers to the aforementioned Elton song, Amoreena, which comes after Love Song on Tumbleweed Connection.
I'd like to thank quiz regular JKM, who identified the film on the marquee as Linda Can't Stop aka The Big Thing, starring Tina Russell and Jamie Gillis. There was some behind-the-scenes discussion about which theater that is, yet nothing conclusive. It's proximity to an elevated subway rules out Manhattan, but that still leaves a handful possibilities in three other boroughs.
I appreciate the comments left re: film students in the 90s. Yes, this was the era when everybody wanted to be the next Tarantino, sign a deal with Harvey & Bob, etc. I do agree with Urko's assessment that things are improving, though I still feel many of today's young filmmakers could do with a bit more time spent in the dark with those that came before them.
This week -- back to the stylish credit sequence. This comes from a film that even I was surprised I liked. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
About ten or twelve years ago I was at a party with a handful of film students from a well-known, ridiculously expensive university in New York. We were discussing the history of American cinema, and what I found alarming was that quite a few of them spoke of Mean Streets (the source of last week's quiz) as the first truly important American film in all of history. Sure, they recognized the role played by a handful of earlier films (the obvious ones) but they considered Scorsese's 1973 masterpiece as the first American film that was an uncompromising personal vision, but also commercial. (It's influence on Reservoir Dogs was also noted.) I wish I was making this up.
The alt-text clue threw quite a few of you, with many guesses of one Robert Blake film or another. Of course the Blake in Mean Streets is William, he of "Tyger! Tyger! burning bright" fame, which of course is recited in the film.
This week -- another image from the same mean streets. This one's a bit harder, for it's not a credit sequence that typically jumps to mind, but it's damn good. There are a few visual clues to help date the film, but it's still a tough one. Oh...can anybody make sense of the line above A Star is Born? Looks like Tina (or Stina?) in The Big Thing -- but there's no such film that I can find. A porno perhaps? Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
It came as no surprise earlier this year when the Tribeca Film folks announced that the festival would be the victim of downsizing -- after all, it is a highly sponsored event, and in the current economic climate corporations clearly don't want to be handing over barrels of cash towards a film festival. (In related news, Volkswagen just announced they would no longer be sponsoring the Berlinale.) As a result, the festival's program was significantly reduced, with the number features not even reaching triple digits.
Yet was this necessarily a bad thing? In conversations with fellow critics and regular festival-goers, the consensus seems to be that this year's leaner, meaner festival was more solid, and had far fewer of the "what-the-heck-was-this-doing-here" kind of films.
It was an extremely good year for first fatures -- of course there was the magnificent Fish Eyes (which Benten acquired), Damien Chazelle's 16mm black & white musical Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench, Jake Goldberger's Don McKay, Darko Lungulov's Here and There, Omri Givon's Seven Minutes in Heaven, and Rune Denstad Langlo's North, which walked away with the prize for Best New Narrative Filmmaker.
Sadly, I didn't get to see nearly as many films as I would have liked, as the negotiations for Fish Eyes took the better part of five days and nights. Long, long nights. Fortunately, I'll be able to catch up with a handful of them via screeners.
I've written reviews of two debut features, Here and There and Seven Minutes in Heaven, and they can be found over at GreenCine.
The sepia-toned old-timey photo from last week's quiz is the first in a series of pictures shown in the title sequence of everybody's favorite alphabetically-sound outlaw couple, Bonnie and Clyde.
Sorry for the delay on this week's quiz. The Tribeca Film Festival is in full swing, and I've been busy working on the acquisition of Fish Eyes, which was just announced today. Yes, Benten Films has acquired their first Asian film, and what a film it is. A powerful, gorgeous Jia Zhang-ke-esque independent drama from newcomer Zheng Wei, who I am convinced is at the start of a long and successful career. Part of the new Beijing independent movement, Zheng's film is remarkably assured, particularly for a first film. (This certainly isn't mumblecore!) Danny Kasman wrote a nice review over at The Auteurs, and even The New York Post's V.A. Musetto had kind words.
This week -- time for them to start getting a bit more difficult. Name this iconic masterpiece that opens with a bit of 8mm film leader. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
If it's Peter Sellers in a T and Orson Welles in an A, it's got to be Casino Royale, the 1967 James Bond spoof that I've professed my love for on several occasions on this blog. Half-a-dozen directors, a mixed-bag cast, and a nonsensical screenplay notwithstanding, this movie is pure comfort food for me. Plus, I actually find it to be genuinely funny, and it features one of the top-ten soundtracks of all time.
There was talk a few years back about Quentin Tarantino possibly directing the remake. I'll be the first to say I'm glad that never came to fruition.
Well, after an extremely disappointing first quarter, 2009 is rapidly shaping up, and in the past few days I've seen two excellent films from American auteurs, and one indie-comedy (World's Greatest Dad) that is deliciously dark. I'm technically not allowed to speak about one of the auteurist titles, but let's just say it's the latest film from a cinematic godfather. The other, Jim Jarmusch's The Limits of Control, is one of the smartest films I've seen in quite some time. What's interesting is that both filmmakers are working in a very reflective vein, openly addressing other, classic films, and the art of cinema itself. More anon.
This week -- the opening shot of a simple, but somewhat iconic credit sequence. Name it. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
I took quite a beating over the last seven days for not being a fan of Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof, his entry in the Grindhouse double feature. I watched it again in preparation for the quiz, and I still stand by my original review. In fact, I think I liked it even less this time around. Sure, Kurt Russell gives a great performance, but the screenplay is beyond cloying. Let's just agree to disagree.
This week -- there was another film I had wanted to use, but after spending over an hour looking for the DVD (it has to be here somewhere), I decided I had to opt for something else. A shame, for I really had my heart set on it. Drats. Anyway, the consolation film is a personal favorite, though a total financial and critical flop. Name it. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
Bernardo Bertolucci's third feature, Partner, released just months after the legendary events of May 68, finds the Italian director at his most abstract and least narrative point of his career. The Pasolini influence that informed La Commare Secca and (to a lesser extent) Before the Revolution has here been replaced by post-Masculine, Feminine Godard.
Owing more than a slight debt to 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her, Partner touches on all the hot-button topics of the day, particularly in Euro art-cinema: politics (personal, social, sexual, ideological), Vietnam, psychology, philosophy, theater, cinema, and the nature of the self. A very loose adaptation of Dostoyevsky's The Double, Partner's non-narrative structure is primarily a showcase for its star Pierre Clémenti, who plays dual roles as a theater prof and his revolutionary doppelganger/antipode, both named Giacobbe. We're never quite sure which one is the genuine item, and the film plays out like a more cerebral, less humorous Fight Club.
Watching Partner makes one appreciate Godard that much more, for though it's easy to spot the references (Le Mepris' Cinemascope and lush score, Weekend's tracking shots, 2 or 3 Things' psychology/ideology), Bertolucci lacks both the puckishness and gravitas of his French counterpart. The ideas presented throughout Partner never reach convergence, and what we're left with are a series of vignettes -- some which work, while others don't. It's kind of like a variety show for the smart set.
However, there's still much to admire about the film. The Cinemascope is gorgeous, and the Hermann-esque score by Ennio Morricone amusingly alludes to tension and a sense of foreboding that never arives. There's a quasi-comical recreation of the Odessa Steps sequence from Battleship Potemkin, and a wonderful car scene with Clémenti and Stefania Sandrelli, in which a third character is providing the engine sounds for the stationary vehicle. And then of course there's the single best line in the film, which comes during a polemic about cinema -- "Distributors have no soul." I'm on the fence about Clémenti's performance, which though certainly fearless and reminiscent of his work with Garrel, Pasolini or Cavani, veers dangerously close at times to amateur theatrics. It's fascinating to watch, but feels as if Bertolucci didn't provide enough guidance.
Bertolucci never again ventured into such experimental waters, which is a good thing, as he happens to excel at narrative, yet never at the cost of art, ideas, ideals, politics, etc. Partner makes for an interesting companion to The Dreamers, if just to see the director's two extremely different takes on the events of 1968. But on it's own, Partner doesn't come close to the brilliance of The Conformist, 1900, or even Last Tango in Paris.
However, that said, there is a sequence in the film that is not only one of Bertolucci's greatest, but quite possibly one of the best from the cinema of the 1960s as a whole, and I've shared it below. It's a spoof of crass commercialism, specifically in the marketing of laundry detergent. Clémenti and the gorgeous Tina Aumont are a loving couple driven (at first) to sexual ecstasy by their suds, all set to a bit of chamber-pop perfection by Morricone (Splash!), with vocals by Peter Boom. The change of mood and tone within three minutes is both fascinating and more than a little bit disturbing. Borderline NSFW, perhaps. Check it out. (The silence in the first ten seconds is as it is in the film.)
One of my all-time favorite opening credit sequences -- Pablo Ferro's wonderful design combined with Noel Harrison's haunting rendition of Michel Legrand's The Windmills of Your Mind - what a perfect way to set the mood for Norman Jewison's The Thomas Crown Affair, that timeless romantic thriller from 1968 that hasn't lost any of its charm or style. I like to pretend that the John McTiernan/Sting remake is just a remnant of a bad dream.
Several people asked about the alt-text clue (Don Quixote on the brain), which was simply a rather lame reference to the film's theme song. You know, tilting at windmills and such....
As some of you may have seen on my Facebook status, I had lunch with Susan Ray last week, and as a result I've been watching her late husband's films for the past few days. I just now finished The Lusty Men, which I hadn't seen in many years, and I was completely blown away by the editing. Ray tends to cut on motion, and there's a fluidity to the film that is nothing short of spine tingling. I'm hoping to find the time to write something up about it in the near future. (Why this isn't on DVD is a complete mystery...)
This week -- a film that quickly goes downhill after the credit sequence. Yeah, yeah, many love it, but....no. Sorry. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
1962 saw the birth of a franchise that refuses to die...Bond, James Bond. One thing that has remained fairly consisted throughout the series is the memorable opening credit sequence, which usually contains silhouetted figures dancing to the soon-to-be-famous title song. The first film in the series, Dr. No, begins with some then-progressive electronic synth sounds which eventually give way to the now-iconic Monty Norman (not John Barry) Bond theme, while colored dots fill the screen in seemingly random patterns. Then the silhouettes appear. It must have seemed pretty wild back in '62.
That just about everybody managed to get it (save for a dozen or so who guessed Une femme est une femme) has led me to make one change -- I'm going to extend the round by four weeks, making it 16 quizzes in all. (Plus, there are a lot of credit sequences I'm dying to use.)
This week -- another easy one, I'm afraid, but such a great opening it is. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!
Paris, 1971. Early morning, disheveled flat. A young couple awakens. He immediately turns on the radio which is blaring news about Palestine. She'll have none of that. They argue. She puts the coffee on. He shaves. They shout. He splashes Schick over his visage. She loves the smell. All is calm. It's love all over again thanks to the healing power of aftershave.
This mini-drama buried in an advert (political overtones and all) was directed by none other than Jean-Luc Godard and Jean-Pierre Gorin, who at the time had signed a lucrative deal with the Dupuy-Compton ad agency. As long as they proposed one idea a month, and shot one of those ideas each year, they'd get paid. For the Schick ad, they requested a budget for about a week's worth of shooting, but completed the entire advert in half a day. Doesn't sound very Maoist (or Marxist) to me.....
Regardless, enjoy what is no doubt one of Godard's shortest works -- think Une Femme est une Femme meets Pierrot le Fou in just under sixty seconds.
