Started by wilder, June 11, 2012, 07:53:06 PM
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Quote from: Letterboxd user SYUpon hearing about the Academy Award nom for Greek director Giorgos Lanthimos and his 2009 commercial and critical darling Dogtooth, Arturo Ripstein, possibly the greatest Mexican filmmaker working today, reportedly considered sending him a message saying "I hope we win." Frankly, I wish he would have sent him that message and many more given how blatantly Lantihmos ripped off not only the premise but also a number of other key screenplay elements from Ripstein's masterful The Castle of Purity. I'm sure Lanthimos would have been less bold if Ripstein's film had been available on DVD from Criterion or was simply better known. Ripstein has nothing to worry though. Dogtooth is not going to remain with us for a very long time, and I imagine the same will hold true for its maker. On the other hand, The Castle of Purity and its director will only gain in stature with time, though I realize that it's been far too long already. Maybe he has to die first. I don't know. You can't invent context, whether it's social, cultural or political. Allegorically, Ripstein's film works much better on those levels given its setting and period. And it's a much more rounded film, spending as much time with the perpetrator as it does with the victims of hypocrisy and totalitarianism.
QuoteOne of Alasdair Gray's most brilliant creations, Poor Things, is a postmodern revision of Frankenstein that replaces the traditional monster with Bella Baxter— a beautiful young erotomaniac brought back to life with the brain of an infant. Godwin Baxter's scientific ambition to create the perfect companion is realized when he finds the drowned body of Bella, but his dream is thwarted by Dr. Archibald McCandless's jealous love for Baxter's creation.The hilarious tale of love and scandal that ensues would be "the whole story" in the hands of a lesser author (which, in fact, it is, for this account is actually written by Dr. McCandless). For Gray, though, this is only half the story, after which Bella (a.k.a. Victoria McCandless) has her own say in the matter. Satirizing the classic Victorian novel, Poor Things is a hilarious political allegory and a thought-provoking duel between the desires of men and the independence of women, from one of Scotland's most accomplished authors.
Quote from: i-DBorne from a 2018 discussion, shot in early 2020, but only now seeing the light of day — and in very specific circumstances (more on that shortly) — Bleat is the product of Yorgos' collaboration with Neon, a Greek artistic non-profit, and the Greek National Opera. Yorgos was the guest here; what they made together forms a new chapter in Neon and the GNO's ongoing series that explores the relationship between visual art and opera, titled The Artist on the Composer.The film is silent; when it first starts to play, you hear only the whirr of the projector kicking into gear. It's at this point that the collaboration comes full circle: we are watching it with the accompaniment of the Greek National Orchestra, who have strung together several compositions from classical and contemporary composers to capture the spirit of what's shown on screen. The two are in perfect symphony. Sparing string plucks and the groan of violins, oboes and flutes carry their interpretation of Toshio Hosokawa's "Singing Garden"; the eery, striking notes of a cimbalom re-enact the same composer's "Nachtmusik"; and then, a full-bodied, heaven-summoning choir deliver "Immortal Bach, op. 153": a Bach reimagining by Knut Nystedt.The film and orchestra played for three nights over the weekend of 6-8 May, with three performances each night at the Stavros Niarchos Hall at the Greek National Opera. In total, that amounts to a few hundred shy of 12,000 witnessing Bleat; but the fascinating caveat comes with the manner in which it will always be presented.It is Yorgos' desire that the film be seen this way and this way only: on film with an orchestral accompaniment. It's the direct antidote to the streaming era of moviemaking, he points out, in which films are — either instantly or, after a few months, primed and ready to be downsized to a small screen if need be. A version of Bleat like that does not and — Yorgos' stance willing — will not exist.
Quote from: FRIEZETypically for the filmmaker, the baroque music is playfully counterpointed by what's on screen. In Bleat, Stone plays another of Lanthimos's lonely, grieving weirdoes. Shot on the Island of Tinos, it begins at a funeral (her husband's, played by Bonnard). The era is unspecified: it could be a century ago, though anachronistic technologies hint otherwise. Stone's nameless character enjoys an intimate moment with a reproduction of the Madonna. She then reanimates her deceased husband by sitting on his face. As a narrative, it's looser even than his other recent short, Nimic (2009), and, with no dialogue to contend with, has the feeling of an artist enjoying a different set of tools. 'I was inspired by a Greek documentary by [Takis] Kanellopoulos about wedding traditions in northern Greece and Macedonia,' he tells me. 'It's a remarkable film, absolutely beautiful, stunning.' Lanthimos filmed Bleat on Super 16 – black and white, warm and crackling – and insisted on analogue projection. While plans are in the works to tour the film, he is adamant that it only be viewed with all these trimmings.