My new film is a silent one about wet, foggy colors. It was raining in December and the roses looked droopy under the weight of the water droplets. Then the camera started going in and out of focus and I thought it made a good color show so I started to learn how to make it happen more and how to make the focus flutter. So I think that what is out of focus in the film is more important than what's in focus.
Here’s a new film for the film fans who happen to stumble by. It’s a film about memory shifts, searching, losing something, trying to find the old image, trying to regain an old feeling or impression, capturing a season of life or the mind. As if one were thinking, “I can almost remember how it was and what we did that day so long ago. Where were we again? North somewhere? It was dark? No, the sun was out… wait, it was cold… I think.
My latest is a landscape really. This one is a very straightforward abstraction. It's a view sort of seen in miniature - as if through a small aperture. The way you move by the same view over and over again without ever really seeing much. Blind on blind.
My latest little film. It's actually a cinegram. The subject is trains. Time. Memory. The present doesn't exist. You can't find it with measurement. You can't even define it. The future is not there yet. You cannot see it. The only thing that really exists is the past. I say that because we can all see the past - some more clearly than others. But we can most certainly see it.
Here's the poem from inside the movie:
Lunch With Bardot
Trains run on time With passengers asleep Temporarily forgotten Between observation points Colliding lines Of fictional transport
Philips has a new super-widescreen television coming out that is in true cinema proportions. This 'freeze-frame' film is their advertisement for it. It's a beautifully produced police shootout with a gang of clowns at a hospital. It's got obvious Joker overtones and is just so damn creepy and weird. Adam Berg is the filmmaker. As I watch it I wonder how they did it. You can go over to an interactive version and move through the film slowly. The techniques used become more clear that way. It's really one giant stitched-together image with some CG inserts. It really works.
DeK at No fat clips!!! has posted my latest film, Kingdom of Moderate Sunshine! I'm very proud of that because I think DeK runs the best cinema site on the internet. DeK finds films, understands them, finds excellent quotes to go along with them, and posts them in all sorts of formats for viewers to enjoy.
I go to No fat clips!!! all the time to see what filmmakers are up to around the world. This is the first time I've been included in the list of films there. Thank you to DeK at No fat clips!!!
You should make sure to press the 'HD' button to get the best image in the player if your connection can support the large file size.
I wanted to make the kind of film that might play on Winston Smith's telescreen in his Oceana home from George Orwell's novel, 'Nineteen Eighty-Four.' This thought was not in my mind at the start of making my film, but as I worked on it I began rereading the Orwell novel and realized that my instincts were following right along the lines of his thinking. The concepts of 'doublethink' and 'newspeak' came naturally to me as I began to assemble my film. I'm interested in the techniques and mind-control efforts of fascism. The use of expressions that are at once meaningless and obvious fascinates me. Orwell uses phrases like 'Ignorance is Strength' for his language of the Party. Once you start thinking along fascist lines and trying to create according to fascist mythology and will to power, it's pretty easy to come up with strange phrases like, 'True History Refurbishment.' That's one of mine from the film. The combining of this kind of language with images that play against each other in the same way creates an almost frighteningly fascist work.
I had originally set out to make a film that criticized the use of fascist art techniques for political purposes in the U.S. The primary example of this currently is the famous picture of Barack Obama by artist Shepard Fairey. The poster is powerful but strikes me as bizarrely fascist in its technique and focus on the hero personality gazing upward toward some grand future above all our heads. Pretty damned terrifying if you ask me. But I'm obsessed with the whole idea of it and what drives people to start using this kind of imagery. So I had wanted to make a short film that objected to this kind of thing. But as I worked, I realized that I had made a weak choice. Far better to make an actual fascist film from some mythological totalitarian state that had mastered all the methods of population and mind-control through sound and image. So that's what I did.
The dense layering of images that I used to create new compositions and emotions incorporates many different elements. I used original HD footage that I shot recently, artwork I created in Photoshop, computer-generated voices, machinima footage that I shot directly off of a plasma television screen while manipulating the game characters with an Xbox 360 controller, public domain government films, documentary footage, corporate films, images of graffiti, training films, porno films and old western films. I found that the wealth of footage freely available from Archive.org was my most valuable asset. It required many hours of searching and scanning for just the right shots for the impressions and meanings that I was interested in for my film.
So, yes, I have created a truly despicable bit of fascist totalitarian social training that tries very hard to convince the viewer to be a good working member of the 'Collective.' But the great thing about working this way is that the humor and unwitting self-criticism leaks out through every shot of the film. It's almost as if the repressive state trying so hard to convince everyone of its strength and noble cause, just can't help but make fun of itself without knowing it.
Since the film uses text so closely related to the images I've classified this as both a film and a cinegram.
Sita Sings the Blues is a feature animation by Nina Paley. It is based in part on the ancient Indian Ramayana, but combines this with stories from the animator's life. The film incorporates some 80-year old jazz music by Annette Hanshaw. Those recordings are public domain but the compositions are not and the owners will not allow Ms. Paley to sell the movie containing the copyrighted compositions. So public television, which operates under unique rules concerning copyright, broadcast the movie and offered it in full on their web site. Now, the animator has offered the film for free with a Creative Commons license in many formats, including HD.
It's a wonderful film that is bursting with color, enthusiasm and sheer raving talent. Enjoy it.
In film, we ignore our great thinkers and practitioners at great peril to ourselves. For my entire life, I rejected any consideration of Jean-Luc Godard. I dismissed him as a pretentious, dull intellectual who threw text around on the screen to hide bad filmmaking. I had seen 'Breathless' and had a memory of two people in vivid and somehow ultra-modern black & white climbing on top of each other and walking on a bed in a tiny apartment room. But I dismissed the director as a one-film-wonder and refused to see anything more by him.
Until one year ago.
I have been reading a good book about Jean-Luc Godard and watching as many of his films as I can find on DVD. He's still working. He's still there. I'm glad I managed to find him while he's still working.
I enter a room in mid-afternoon knowing that my camera is only a few feet away. The light comes through the kitchen window and makes shadows of potted plants on the white porcelain tile. The trees outside sway and it seems like rain is coming. I know that there are scenes I could film here. They are all around me in this room with its strange light. I could grab my camera and with the proper attitude make an incredible film. Right now. Immediately. But it's hard to do. It's a battle to persuade one's self to attempt it. I begin to feel foolish. I struggle with myself and laugh at myself for imagining that out of the great universal pile of YouTube videos a single film taken in my kitchen could possibly amount to anything at all in the mind of a single viewer. Nietzsche, in 'Thus Spake Zarathustra,' writes about how one's self is one's greatest enemy and will begin to doubt and mock one's own thoughts and noble efforts.
I view Godard as someone who has spent a lifetime leaping fully into this battle and winning it. He would look around my kitchen, pull out his video camera, turn a gas burner on and film it without a pot to heat. He might talk about holding his palm to the fire and then pressing it against his lover's cheek to burn her. He might briefly show a scalded and blistering hand, a palm print on a cheek, a car bomb exploding next to a busy marketplace. And he would have a film. I think he has fought consistently to make film a nearly mental act. As much a mental act as writing a novel or a poem. I think he is perhaps closer to this achievement than anyone else in the history of cinema. He appears to be willing to put himself into his work the way a writer might. Not a screenwriter. A real writer. I don't think Godard gives one tiny bit of a damn about screenplays. He uses a camera to write. Like Brakhage scratching celluloid with his fingernails.
Last night I watched 'Contempt.' I've read that Godard was unhappy during this shoot and couldn't stand working with Brigitte Bardot. But it's one of the greatest films about marriage that I've ever seen. She is magnificent in it. Mysterious and irrational and like a curse to all foolish and driven men. Once again, I come from a Godard film with a vivid memory of a man and a woman stalking each other in an apartment. Climbing over one another and scrambling across a bed. Almost like a prizefight. The film is forty-six years old and looks like it was shot just last week. Godard is the most modern of artists. I look at his work and I suddenly know what the word 'modern' means. It has nothing to do with being recent. I think it might be something to do with light and the way people behave in it and react to it. How they gaze at or through windows and engage with structures and how they move into or out of the light. Modern. Microsoft didn't name its operating system 'Windows' for nothing.
Here's a short film called 'Une catastrophe' that Godard made for the 2008 Viennale film festival.
Here's is a piece of his enormous 10-hour 'Histoir(s) du cinema.'
Well I certainly want to see all the rest of that. It's spellbinding. I like the way he talks about how Italy was the only country that could resist the domination by American film in the 1940s. How he says the language of Dante made its way into the image and made Italian cinema great. I believe him because the images make me believe him. I want DVDs of this history of cinema. I want them badly.
I got into a big fight in a movie theater this past Saturday night after seeing a Swedish film called 'Let the Right One In.' At the end, a friend of mine said, 'Boy! The pace of that was just unbearable.' I snapped, 'Forget every stupid thing you've ever heard about Hollywood films. It's a disease I recognize. The disease of timing. Timing. You think films need to blast along on a railroad track, gaining speed until the big crash at the end... don't you?'
I'm just that kind of asshole. Three of use made our way up Fairfax Avenue yelling at each other like several idiots. But I meant it and I'd say it again.
But see, Godard doesn't even think the railroad tracks exist. There's no train and there's no end.
So Godard now works in his studio with video equipment. I wonder if secretly, under some indecipherable username, Jean-Luc Godard might be uploading work everyday onto YouTube. Would he do that? Wouldn't it make sense? Perhaps he's shooting video in his kitchen everyday and making something magnificent for us to see. I want the link if it exists!
Are we mistaken in assuming that the whole vocabulary of abuse which is exhausted every week in the journals of our red and pink-complexioned comrades - the sneers against a man's talent, the bitter denials that his work has any substance, sincerity, truth, or reality whatever - is really what it seems to be? No doubt we are mistaken. It would be more charitable to believe that these pure spirits of the present day are what they say they are - collective, selfless, consecrated - and that the words they use do not mean what they seem to mean, and do not betray the romantic and deluded passions that seem to animate them, but are really words used coldly, without passion, for the purposes of collective propaganda - in operations completely surgical, whereby the language of the present day, with all its overtones of superstition, prejudice, and false knowledge, is employed clinically, scientifically, simply to further the Idea of the Future State!
No more, no more! Of what avail to crush these vermin beneath our heavy boot? The locusts have no king, and the lice will multiply forever. The poet must be born, and live, and sweat, and suffer, and change, and grow, yet somehow maintain the changeless selfhood of his soul's integrity among all the crawling fashions of this world of lice. The poet lives, and dies, and is immortal; but the eternal trifler of all complexions never dies. The eternal trifler comes and goes, sucks blood of living men, is filled and emptied with the surfeit of each changing fashion. He gorges and disgorges, and is never fed. There is no nurture in him, and he draws no nurture from the food he feeds on. There is no heart, no soul, no blood, no living faith in him: the eternal trifler simply swallows and remains.
And we? Made of our father's earth, blood of his blood, bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh - born like our father here to live and strive, here to win through or be defeated - here, like all the other men who went before us, not too nice or dainty for the uses of this earth - here to live, to suffer, and to die - O brothers, like our fathers in their time, we are burning, burning, burning in the night.
Thomas Wolfe ('You Can't Go Home Again' published in 1934)
Look at this. It's ragingly brilliant. It's a film called 'La Vida Nueva' by Kaymen Barber at the Echo Park Film Center in Los Angeles.
I love the shots going down the streets while shooting out of a car. Just wonderful. This film grabs attention and does not let go. It keeps hitting you with people who want to tell their stories to the filmmaker. You know, it's not easy to get people to want to tell you their story. Not easy at all. This Kaymen Barber has some serious talent and better not stop making movies because he's going to waltz himself straight into a professional filmmaking career and blow a few directors I know clear out of the pond.
It looks like the film is shot with a silent camera and then sound is recorded later. Frankly, I think the technique is totally captivating and it is something I never would have thought of. It's so good in fact that I want to steal it. That's how good it is.
Here's another film. It's called 'Thick Strings and Shredded Cheese,' by Carla Orendorff.
This is a young filmmaker learning fearlessly. She's good. This film is moving in a very simple and direct way. I love the shots of the photos and the spools of thread. The way the filmmaker animates them on the table. I've never seen that before. It's something new. To do that in the middle of a documentary with a voice telling a story is a very unique and wonderful approach.
Here's yet another. It's called 'Spray Cans and Stencils.' It's by John Tavares. It's about artists and what they do.
I think what you have here are three artists showing their respect for each other. The two spray can and stencil artists are doing their thing for the film artist and the sense of mutual understanding that comes through this film is very subtle but unmistakable. I love the quick shot of the painter taking a digital photo of his work on the wall. He is serious and proud. As he should be. This is a fascinating documentary that I wish lasted at least an hour because I want to see more.
I once had a big conversation with friends about how best to find real intelligence in kids aside from IQ tests and things like that. I said that if you want to find intelligence you go and hand cameras to kids and see what they make. That's one way you can find someone's mind. But I never had the will to prove it. It looks to me like someone down at the Echo Park Film Center is doing this and it's paying off. I haven't been down there yet, but I think it's a great place anyway. I can tell from the films.
If you like photographs, stay the hell out of the United Kingdom. The straggling Western nation appears to have not noticed that the unconstitutional Bush junta is no longer in power in the United States and persists with its little-partner notion of a totalitarian security apparatus defending itself against... well... defending itself against civilization. The thug nation has decided to give police the authority to stop people who are photographing police in public. They are already doing this to an alarming degree, but now it will be an offense punishable by 10 years in jail.
The logic is that someone might be trying to elicit information about a police officer that is likely to be useful in an act of terrorism.
It would be useful to have a photograph of a police officer's shiny round face because then we would know exactly how to shoot something directly into the officer's mouth. Is that what the new law protects against?
I would not under even the remotest of possible circumstances ever travel to the UK. It has become utterly barbaric and is a total surveillance police state. Also a helpful British gent in a hurry once dropped an entire ice cream cone onto my ex-wife's blouse in the West End. But if I did go there, would it be acceptable to pull out my camera and imagine inside my private little mind that my Nikon was an AK 47? Nikon. AK 47. If I aimed it at a fat Brit cop and imagined pulling the trigger and sending a hot lead bullet through his unsuspecting head, would I be committing a thought crime that might lead to an act of terrorism? If I imagined his undersized head exploding in a spray of scarlet and dull gray puffballs of brain against the 'No Littering' sign, would I be committing an imagination offense? If I thought of my shoes all sticky and dripping with his blown off face as I tried to scrape it onto the curb, would I be offending and likely to commit an act of terrorism? What if I took a picture and then Photoshopped the cop into a smashed and broken body on a London sidewalk and hung it in a fancy gallery? What if I used thick red paint to write giant letters across my photograph that said, 'Clean Up Your Dead Cops Or Else.'
Perhaps I will enter Great Britain on a sly low-flying radar-proof night flight and disembark all in black with a knapsack full of James Bond terror and make my way to the GPS point of my imaginary crime. I will pull my Nikon AK 47 and pull press the button trigger and fire take a shot at of an imaginary police officer with a tin pot on his head that will pop off into the air and clatter to the ground as his cranium swells into a horizontal mushroom and bursts shards of bone in a perfect exit circle to stipple the display window before his body curls to the sidewalk in a lazy gelatinous slump.
How about that, Great Britain? Are you listening, home of Shakespeare? Wistfully remembering when you were a civilized nation? Are you reading my mind? Are you angry? Frightened? Suspicious? Taking all this seriously? Analyzing? Storing? Registering? Confident you've got me figured out?
Hey, what if I shot Shakespeare and blew his brains all over the Prime Minister? Words. Words. Words. All over his shirt. Red words. Black words. White words. Spraying out like a water cannon shooting gasoline.
Remember, poets don't teach. They destroy.
Read the poem, k*nt It was written specifically for the poor fallen UK. It totally pissed off the moderators at BoingBoing.net really bad because I slapped it into their comments area and when they censored it I told them they were a bunch of hypocrites pretending to defend freedom of expression. But I play nice with them and read their posts, but still they're pasty super-duper white cream goofballs. I mean, if you can't print 'k*nt' in your blog, what's the fucking point?
Filmmaker Peter Mettler shot 'Away' on his cell phone camera in Costa Rica. His subject matter is how disconnecting from technology or the modern world can sometimes lead to a better use of technology. In this case, he lets technology lead him toward artistic expression. This fellow is a real camouflage lens. The film is beautiful and it has ended up in the catalog of the National Film Board of Canada.
I'm very happy and also very ornery about what I'm about to say. Firstly, Wong Kar Wai is one of my favorite directors. He's the Hong Kong filmmaker who's made Chungking Express, In the Mood for Love, and 2046, among others. His films are fantastic swirls of color and he totally loves to film womens' feet. I don't know if it's the feet or the shoes he's in love with, but I think whatever he chooses to photograph ends up looking like he went shopping on another planet and came back with an entire film. He's incredible and he is a light-artist.
Well, he's gone off and made what might turn out to be my favorite science fiction film of the past five years. It's a ten-minute short called There is Only One Sun. But he shot it as a commercial for Phillips televisions. That's really too damned bad. A fucking commercial. I guess he took the money and was fascinated with the television company's fixation on bright vivid colors and crystalline picture quality. Whatever. Phillips can go take a dump. Pioneer makes much better television screens anyway. Wong Kar Wai wins the exchange and leaves us another masterpiece. I'm sure he ripped Phillips off in some clever way. I would. A gigantic multinational corporation asks me to make them a big juicy commercial. Well, I'm damn sure going to bamboozle them right on down the road and slip a little artistic time-bomb right under their nose. That's what this film is.
Director Juan Delcan of Nola Pictures made this short animation of a poem by Gabor Barabas. Apparently, the spider animations are inspired by the work of sculptor Louise Bourgeois. I like the ever-flowing background and the way the lines transform so smoothly from one shape to another. I like the poem also.
'9' is a short computer animated film by Shane Acker, produced while he was an animation student. It is being made into a feature film by producer Tim Burton. The original short sets a fascinating apocalyptic mood and builds to its climax with expert precision. The little burlap sack character holds my attention as he or she deals with spare parts from old machines and fights off a life-sucking metal insect creature. The character appears to be fighting to preserve something - perhaps the life force itself.
This is the speech that Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered on the Washington, D.C. Mall in 1963. It is quite possibly the greatest speech delivered in the United States since Abraham Lincoln's 'Gettysburg Address' and 'Second Inaugural Adress.'
It is possible that the past eight years of terror and bigotry from an American presidential administration can be overcome. That's my dream.
The sun is low and cold when Christmas time comes. The lights flicker and dark boxes are slowly opened. Trees spin round faster and faster until the light explodes.
The film uses two movements from Respighi's 'Pines of Rome.' The music and film start slowly, quietly, as if conserving or gathering their resources. Then the music builds to a martial crescendo and the film images begin to fragment.
This film took me the better part of two months to make. It uses footage taken during December and some older footage that fit the subject matter. Last night when the moon was full and apparently showing at its largest for the year, I went out and took some video of it and decided that the shots were the missing element that I had been puzzling over for the past several days while editing my film. The editing took me about a week to complete. There are many connections to draw between the images that appear. Some of them are very quick, but the overall impression should be a little bit on the mystical side.
I've been very impressed lately by the work of Kenneth Anger. His underlying mystical concerns and his total lack of fear in his image-making are extremely important. He makes me think that it is the intent behind an image that determines whether it will become a part of memory or not. If you see a cup in a coffee commercial, you don't remember it five years later. If you see one in a Kenneth Anger film, you remember it forever. The intent behind an image functions a bit like magic.
I don't necessarily completely like everything Anger has made, but I admire his willingness to film beauty that frightens people. There are many very tough and hardcore underground filmmakers, but I think there are very few who are unafraid of actual, shocking, terrifying beauty.
I found a film about Duchamp. I've always liked his playfulness that never overpowers his keen eye for beautiful forms. He created art objects that he called 'ready-mades.' Films are sort of 'ready-mades,' aren't they? Watching people like Duchamp gets the brain working in a different way. Suddenly the lamp on your desk becomes more interested and full of unique possibilities. What if I lit the lamp and balanced a leg on top of it? Or a pair of eyeglasses glued onto a gun as a sighting mechanism?
That's the kind of thing Duchamp does to me. He plays with notions of art. But he plays seriously.
I am ready to post my new film. It's called 'Christmas Black.' Then, after that, I think I'm going to make a very nasty, blunt film that will combine real world photography with some video game footage. Like machinima, a technique I've used before. The story will be simple: an off-duty police officer stands in his apartment. He leaves. He walks several blocks and approaches a passerby from behind. He shoots the passerby dead and is suddenly standing in his apartment again. He leaves. Walks. Shoots another person. And so on and on... It will be two things - an interesting point of view on what video games do best and a loaded cinematic gun aimed directly at the cop who killed the subway rider on January 1, 2009. It's my little way of helping to metaphorically get rid of him. Art is anger, baby. Put it in someone's face and pull the trigger. Then just hope for the best.
This is what you get when a police officer is filmed shooting a helpless individual in the back:
Oakland protests turned violent last night over the killing of an unarmed man who was lying face-down on a subway platform by a uniformed BART officer. The killing was performed in front of onlookers with cameras rolling.
And still we must all ask: Why has the cop not been arrested on suspicion of murder?
The photos above say plenty. But here is an iReport from CNN with Oakland youths explaining why they are so angry. One of them calls the killing 'a modern day lynching.'
Subway riders in Oakland, California shot videos on their cellphone cameras of a group of police officers handcuffing several young men on a subway platform. A couple of the officers throw a man face-first onto the ground, sit on him with their knees and then one shoots him to death.
There's lots of video of this horrific killing.
Here's one angle on the homicide. The killing happens at the 1 minute 15 second point in the video. Watch the officer in the back pull his gun, aim it and fire it into the man's back.
Here's another angle from which you can clearly see the officer drawing his weapon and aiming it down at the victim:
This alleged police officer shoots a totally helpless man in front of dozens of onlookers while being filmed!
The alleged officer's name has been released. He is apparently Johannes Mehserle of the BART Police Department in Oakland, California. So, there are news reports that this man is being moved from place to place in order to protect him from harm because he has received death threats.
People with cameras filmed this police action starting well before the seeming execution. Why would they do that? Possibly because they knew there was something suspect in the police activity. Watch the video of the moments just after the killing. Look at the other police officers. They're just standing there. A man has been shot in the back and these other jackasses are standing around as if someone's received a parking ticket. Do these officers have Nazi regalia in their homes? Are they skinheads? Are they Ku Klux Klan?
Cities burn for stuff like this. Rodney King. Remember? The cops only beat that guy with sticks and Los Angeles went up in riots and flames. This man was shot to death in public in Oakland. Looks like murder.
Protests are forming.
BART officials have made statements urging calm until the facts are known. BART can put the facts up its ass. The facts are on video.
Questions:
Why wasn't the killing officer arrested immediately on suspicion of murder? Why do the other cops stand around looking bored after the killing? Why are the bystanders already filming from so many angles well before the killing?
This is a notebook stuffed with cinegrams, videos, poems, opinions, reviews and scraps.
A cinegram is a short motion picture that uses images and text that are packed with meaning and suggestion. It's my new word for things I once referred to as film poems.
Adjust contrast of a pdf free
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Made in the Shade
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*by Steve Dollar*
[image: I Used to Be Darker]
*[Editor's note: due to budget cuts and internal restructuring, Steve's
review will likely be my final po...
Vimeo Autoembed Fixed
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The mood is a harsh mistress Just noticed that the Vimeo autoembedding
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Jagged Line Blog Moves to CandlelightStories.com
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The Jagged Line posts are being moved to their mother-ship,
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