Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains: Macroinformation.org &
Knatz.com / Personal / Chat / Favorites / Art / Movies /
2017 11 27 One day I was walking from 52nd Street toward Time Square. On 7th Avenue in the 40s a burst of laughter stopped me. There was a ghostly silence, then another burst of laughter. I loked around. Apart from a uniformed doorman, there was no one around. I was in the space in front of a theater, day time, mid day. Another peel of laughter made me notice the sandwich board by a pair of speakers near the curb. The sandwich board read “The mike is ‘live, the laugher you hear is going on inside right now.” Another gasping silence, another peel of laughter. I followed the speaker cord to the curb, I looked up. There was animated mannikin of a man hanging from a clock. The marquee read Harold Lloyd Festival.
It would have been the early 1960s. Maybe I was in the army, stationed downtown at Whitehall Street, living uptown, Morningside Heights with my girl friend. Or maybe I was in graduate school: should be home, studying. But I bought a ticket, entered the theater. The laughter from the speakers blended seamlessly with live laughter. I looked at the screen and found myself laughing in perfect rhythm with the living audience.. I couple of hours later I joined the spill from the theater,exhausted, purged, by laughter.
As a kind I saw Charlie Chaplin again and again. I saw plenty of the Marx Brothers too. In the mid 1950s a feature made the rounds, silent comedy: plenty more Chaplin, Marx, Buster Keaton, a but if WC Fields, Ben Turpin … Fatty Arbuckle, Mack Sennet’s Keystone cops: laugh myself sick. But I’d barely heard of Harold Lloyd. Now there he was, I’d seen a couple of hours of him.
Now all you need is to go to YouTube, request Safety Last, and laugh to exhaustion.
2017 11 20 Masterpiece! Full of things to discover, genius, inspiration engulphment. I’d never seen or heard of Seraphine Louis: here we meet her and her many overlapping talents: painter, paint chemist chef. Her compositions evoke ideas about the cosmos and its structures way ahead of classical physics, anticipating chaos, fractals … The actress who plays her is a treasure. It’s also wonderful to meet her discoverer, her paytron, developer, manager, fan. And she wasn’t his only discovery: Rousseau I’ve known and loved since the mid 1950s. There’s great art and important history galore, the movies many types of makers head over heels with their subject.
How come so many early Twentieth-Century artists were institutionalized? VanGopgh, Claudel … Now I have to see Claudel 1915 again.
Arthur Penn Again
2017 11 13 The Chase, 1966: Marton Brando, Robert Redford, Jane Fonda, EG Marshall … and a whole bunch of Texas white party tush. It missed me altogether in 1966, I caught it last night for the first time, now I have to watch it again if I hope to follow the plot with anything like accuracy. My impression first time araoune, aided by my beloved Jan, holding her hand making it all bearable:
Robert Redford breaks out of jail, accompanied by a bad guy. The bad guy mugs some guy for his cash and his car, killing him. As the movie progresses it seems that Redford was serving his sentence for somebody else’s crime entirely. So: we have two types of convict: the innocent (or only slightly guilty) and the guilty. Redford tells his accomplice to take it easy on the victim: too late, he’s already killed him. Redfored gets fingerprints all over the fresh corpse. (Is that possible? Finger prints on belts and bucks, sure, on corneas, bot “all over”?)
Before I proceed let me assure K. visitors, reminding repeat visitors, that pk does not believe in human laws or human courts or human judgments: where guys are in jail it’s always society that’s the villain.
Notice, Hollywood in its automatic value systems is very like pk, all anarchist, but only for the belly of the movie, for climax, we’re all fascists, Nazis.
This movie is worth visiting for its cast: all these hippy, fat-bottomed women.
Redford and associate escape, associate kills driver, drives off, leaving Redford, “Bubber”, without money, transportation: an American Robinson Cruso.
Meantime, it’s Arthur Penn’s universe: the white people “own” everything, none of the ownership legitimate, none of it visibly endorsed by God. The blacks have clearly been pushed down, hard: so too the Mexicans. The society is conqueror, and conquered: conquered last year, conquered this year: and forever. (Except to watch Hollywood / TV revisions of culture: the remake will have to show Everybody’s best friend is a black couple: oh, and spics too.)
Everybody is very rich, about to get very much richer, or very poor, about to lose everything.
Redford’s wife is Jane Fonda, she’s having an affair with Redford’s best friend. Redford’s other best friend is a black guy: and we get the full panoply of racist sabotage from the very rich, about to get richer, kleptocrats. But dig it: maybe Redford’s “crime” was actually committed by his black friend? See? he’s no racist! The black guy, lives in a junk yard: lots of ald wrecks, nothing runs.
I’ll breathe for a moment, and return. Meantime, remember, this is Penn: Bonny and Clyde …
And meantime, anticipate this question: who pays for the destroyed junk yard? All the drunken orgying white kleptocrats invade the black guy’s junk yard: it’s junk, but it’s his home: and he’s one of the heroes here. They sabotage the place, burn and destroy. How is the bill presented?
Or, like everything else, will it have to wait till Judgment?
When God presents all the bills, will God also see that they get paid?
Shit on the Menu
2017 11 09 I’m watching an offensively vulgar teen flick, Jennifer’s Body. Mothers of teens say “shit” obsessively: ditto “fuck”. The lead girl, a demon apparently, dismisses the creep with the pierced lip slirting with her, aside to her friend, “My dick is bigger than his”. Fortunately I didn’t pay money to attend a theater, I’m just watching it on the Mac: therefore I can bailout at any time. And I have, more than twice; but thus far I keep going back. I like the friend, played by Amanda Seyfried: there are moments when the girl, Megan Fox, is attractive, sexy …
Meantime, I reminded oof an episode I had in a restaurant in the early 1970s. Manhattan, evening, Chinese cuisine probably. I was dining solo, three women were there, presumably as friends, and everyother word out of their mouths was “shit”: I’m tring to eat, and these girls are going “shit,” “shit,” “shit,” “shit,” “shit,” “shit” … “shit”. Liberated? or just plain filthy?
The trouble with liberation is how it enslaves passers bye.
After a while I said, “You say shit so often: is it on the menu? It should be the only dish served to girl-unrestrained by courtesy.:
Who else was discomoded? Maybe no one, just a buhch of Chinese waiters in the backc, English alien to them.
Something else I watch on the Mac is a series called Life Below Zero. I’ve been sampling it an episode at a time, in order, for months: I really like it. There’s a guy, Andy” building a greenhouse above the arctic circle with his long-suffering wife, Kate. Andy says they’re free: they don’t have to ask anyone’s permssion to build: they don’t need to ask for guidance: no one is within hundreds of miles. Right.
Freedom isn’t a matter of politics; it’s a matter of population. If Andy and Kate of the only ones around they won’t need nukes very often.
2017 10 29 I rented the DVD for The Fellowship of the Ring thinking I’d be seeing it for the second time. I didn’t much like the Tolkien novels; still I presumed I would have seen the leading movie sometime within a decade of its release. No: I’d never seen a foot of Fellowship, I bet I’d avoided all of them. There’s a telling moment in Fellowship I choose as a cornerstone for the whole schmear:
Our heroes are laboring to transport the ring to Mt Doom, there to destroy it, as a key blow against evil. They’re all armed, wear armor, carry shields: feudal military preparation: there are broad swords, a bow, an ax … chain mail … Understand please: the broad sword is for severing limbs at a blow: decapitation, amputation. The broadsword is not a foil: not a quick light stabbing weapon; neither is it an epee: a quick stabbing weapon: pierce the guy’s wrist, I guarantee you’ll slow him down, make him think twice.
Understand further, feudal militaries typically carried their own seapons to battle: if you had a broadsword, it was your father’s, your grandfather’s. If your father didn’t have a family weapon, then you cut a tree from the wood, fashioned a pole: use it as a spear, as a club, as a staff: ward off attacks.
So our Ring fellows are practicing the broad-sword. But they’re handling the broad-swords, 1) as though they were quick, light slashing weapons: a saber; 2) as though they were mass-prduced, replaceable. No, no: it took your family generations, centuries to acquire a broad-sword: your farmer-neighbors were arming with a ploughing stick, with a tree root.
Anyway, there’s a slip with one of the broad-swords-being-used-as-an-epee, somebody’s finger gets scratched: Ow, that hurts! All mock hostilities instantly sease. Oh, I’m so sorry, Gee, I didn’t know anyone could get hurt.
Christ, no: the broadsword is for separating a target from half his shoulder and all of his right arm: anything less doesn’t count, not so much as a scratch.
Soon the fellows find themselves amid an army of armoured, broad-sword-weilding arcs, an infinitude of them: clones, clearly mass created, with pointy teeth, snot-saturated nosey faces.
Sean Bean looks like he could fight with a broad-sword, maybe Viggo Mortensen could too, a little; but not the old wizard, not the elvin princesses, and certainly not the hobbits, who seem to be born middle-aged and over-weight.
The Fellowship‘s cavalier attitude toward heavy-weight weaponry reminds me of a terrifying casualness about armaments I grew up with but hadn’t encountered so much in recent decades: a dance friend and her husband invited me to one of their Tea Party meetings. I went cause I like her and hope we’ll socialize more once my Jan returned from Nova Scotia: I’m getting to like her husband too a bit. Anyway, I attended a meeting with them, the North Korans had recently been acting up, throwing weight around, trying a little rhetorical terror. One Tea Partier spoke up: “It’s simple! Nuke ’em!” We certainly have plenty of nukes, have for three-quarters of a century: it’s ineplicable how come we haven’t nuked the whole world yet: it’s simple!
What I have never understood, is, has, at least two faces: Americans seem to think that God gave us nukes because we’re special, God wants us to thrive, to prevail. Somehow “therefore” no one else could invent or build nukes: nukes are a “secret”. Einstein saw whet they could be, Einstein tried to convince Roosevelt that he should think about developing nukes to defeat Germany, give the Jews a cance, and make billions for the armorers.
The government bureaucrats who believe that treason and theft are the only possible ways for nukes to proliferate show that what we’re up against is a stupidity that may as well be infinite: intelligence is what cannot be replicated.: there’s no place for imaginative caution. That Tea Party guy imagined himself and his allies to be safe from consequences; I see broad consequences: broad and deep.
2017 10 02 Issued 1975, I only just saw it. Well, some of it was good: to very good; but overall … Actuall no, the cast is good, the females fabulous.
2017 08 15 Last night I watched The Quiet Man. The Irish setting had me instantly near tears. We associate Ford with his mythic western landscape, Monument Valley. But Oh, is he a wonderful painter of Ireland. I don’t like Ford’s patriotism: belligerent bullies. Then again, there’s something about Wayne: he so gorgeous, my eyes are misting.
He overdid it, for way too long. By the end he was a fat old man, abusing livestock by riding a horse. But oh, my god, from Stagecoach to The Quiet Man so was so gorgious: himself and his phis, the best propaganda.
I ordered the movie to resee it, after many decades of not having seen it; but I soon realized I’d never seen this movie. All the cast is great.
I catch things I don’t know when I would have first noticed them had I seen this mobvie in the 1950s: the John Wayne character is reluctant to fight his brother-in-law “because” a ring opponent is supposed to have died; but he too “quiet” a man to say so! Similarly his woman, boy oh boy, Irish redheads! gets away with murder on his hearth: he could break her like a twig, but he does’t: and when he’s perceived as being ready to it’s neighboring women who deliver whipping switches to him, with instructions, for its use and her improvement.
I was watching, at home, alone, but even had Jan been here, the whip might have slid by unremarked on.
Meantime, one other thing very interesting: This is a Hollywood movie wherever it was filmed.: and symbolically it’s Irish. But what Irish? Northern Irish? Norman Irish? Protestant Irish? or standard Irish, Roman Catholic Irish, a thorn in England’s side Irish.
If the Irish, the RC Irish, were marching on Charlottesville to honor lynch culture, would there be any ambiguity about what they meant?
Apparently Ford’s own life is ambiguous on the point: he was raised RC, but his wife was a divorced Protestant.
Note, these Irish priests in this fictitious Inisree, are married! That’s Church of England! That’s English Catholic; not English Protestant.
We all know John Wayne was called Duke. What I didn’t know till browsing wikipedia last night is that the young Wayne was inseparable from a large firehouse dog, an airedale terrier, called “Duke”. Wayne himself, soon to be 6’4″, was called “Little Duke”. I think that’s hilarious.
The Wayne character was born in Inisfree but raised in Pittsburgh: goes back to Inisfree as Home!
Ford was born in Maine: but I can see him going “back” to Ireland: both RC & P!
Shane Kung Fu
2017 08 07 I’ve now sampled the first five minutes of a kung fu chick flick. The girls battle on the roof of a Hong Kong skyscraper. They were beautiful, skilled, acrobatic, fine. Then we see one of the pair arm wrestling some guy: she pins him. But it’s fiction! So what? anything can happen in fiction: Alan Ladd can beat up all the bad guys in the bar, Alan Ladd can outdraw Jack Palance.
There are rules of course. and the studio has to guess what they are. Whether the investors earn or lose depends on those guesses: one year the chink can get a lick in, another year there better not be any chink at all! (And if it’s a North Korean, how could we tell?
I’ll suspend my disbelief this month, but don’t assume it next month. And don’t think it’s conscious. We “know” some of what we believe, we’re at least partly aware of all the propaganda we’ve been fed. This month we seem oh so liberal, but don’t bet the farm. And if you get away with it once, don’t try for twice.
Me? I’ve had enough of these chix fights for the time being.
Homer on the Half Shell: Hollywood Atheism
2017 07 23 Just wrote theMarcus: Think with me:
The Ware That Killed Achilles made me itch to see Troy again, however ridiculous some of the stars looked, Bama, Bloom, Brad Pitt looked and moved or seemed to move fabulous. But by the time Paris fights Menalaus something was bothering the hell out of me:
Hollywood showed Achilles by showing Brad Pitt in costume, Hollywood showed Helen by dressing Kruger in a role, Hollywood showed Troy by building a model on Crete or somwehre, but when it comes to Zeus reasoning with Hera or Poseidon planning this or that, atheist Hollywood showed nothing.
Achilles visits with his mother at the shore, she’s a nymph, immortal, but when Aphrodite whisks Paris home to bed in the middle of his fight, misting men’s eyes as Homer is so fond of doing, Hollywood shows Nothing!
Hollywood is hilarious, Jews tiptoeing around Christian toes. Why? How do they make their diceisions? are the bankers present at every decision? I wish Homer were.
How come you can cast a nymph with a human actress but can’t cast the gods and goddesses at all?
Let’s film the Passion again, but next time without Jesus!
2017 07 22 Reading Caroline Alexander’s The War That Killed Achilles whetted my appetite to see Troy again. I’d liked a number of things about it when it came out, especially Brad Pitt as Achilles. So I ordered Troy from Netflix. Now I’m still watching it, bits at a time, liking it, enjoying the hell out of the casting for the most part, but also hating aspects I’d swallowed last time. Hollywood here has plenty of gall but no nerve for Homeric theology. For instance, the gods play active roles in the Iliad, but not in the Brad Pitt Troy. Paris, the fairy, challenges Menelaus: females both diving and human are suckers for Paris, Paris is snatched from his battle, Aphrodite befuddling Menelaus’ senses, and deposits Paris in bed back in Troy amid all his damn women, bathing him, stroking him, tending to his wounds and his ego. Homer shows the goddes interfering, why won’t Hollywood show it? The gods are “half” of the epic.
At least they showed Thetis in dialogue with Achilles. His mother is not a goddess but an immortal nymph. At least they cast Julie Chrisie!
Hollywood doesn’t scruple to show an immortal, but balks at a divine immortal.
For decades, at least six or seven decades, I’ve ranted against Hollywood unfamiliarity with war, with weapons: the combatants fail to harm each other with swords, say 36″ long, and never connect, never inflict hamr; so they punch each other in the jaw, with no extention but the fist, and always connect. In Hollywood prepubescent girls can shoot the bow, can be accurate; male archers always drop their bow-holding hand befor releasing the arrow: they would never hit anything, but they all live to make the same mistake tomorrow, and the next day … In Ivanhoe they drop their bow hand, in Troy: always, the bow-hand drops. They shoot themselves in the foot.
2017 08 19 I was just watching The Hunger Games, Mockingjay. Jennifer Lawrence plays a girl who’s supposed to have proved that she’s lethal with the bow. She’s introduced, takes aim, holds the pose: and, just as she lets fly, her expression dedicated, stoic, she drops her bow hand!
No, the stupid movie does not show her shooting herself in the foot.
You know, some of the movie toughies, Errol Flynn, Russell Crowe, really were tough, really could fight: but can any of them shoot an arrow on a true course? There’s be an army worth of them if bows were still in use. As is, it’s all fantasies, for feminist females.
Jennifer Lawrence’s ass is from here to there. Her boson is always on hand, stentorian. And if she’s no on hand, Milana Vayntrub is. So bless us all.
2017 07 19 I’m watching Creation: Charles Darwin fathering his beloved ten year old daughter Anne, while she’s still alive, bless her. Jennifer Connelly plays Mama. Now tell me, how can Jennifer Connelly be so heartbreakingly beautiful in so many brilliant people roles? Charles Darwin’s wife? Wife to maths geniuses … She’s not the genus, but it’s clear that she belongs: even if she sabotages the men’s work.
They love her: and we love her too. Extraordinary.
2017 08 08 Watching BBC’s Middlemarch I see Juliet Aubrey embodying similar talents.
The Devil’s Advocate
2017 06 24 The other day Jan didn’t recognize Charlize Theron: so I named a few of her titles: still no recognition: so I ordered The Devil’s Advocate: quality from multiple sources: and we saw it last evening: she for her first, me for at least the third time: wonderful casting, funny script … But there’s at least one thing I hate about it. No, not them duplicating a plot twist of mine from a story of 1969 or so; no: their lame brained indulgence in the illiterate confusion between lawyers as stadning up for the law and lawyers as disgustingly paid knights errant. A trial is supposed to establish facts: that’s a goal separate from whethr or not the facts are repugnant. This flick establishes a straw man and palms it as a heroic struggle. The math teacher appears to be an abuser of underage girls: the school fed the pervert a stream of victims. It’s our young-lawyer-hero’s first case: and he’s suffering a non-existent crisis / whether to deend the skumball. No, no, no, no: the law requires the scumball to be defended: that one of the most basic delusions of state-based government, centralized power.
Humans know that they’re not very good at determining truth and that truth-telling is punished, not rewarded: a Jesus needs an outside source of energy. Simultaneously humans fall for the same state/church trick every time: if the people doubt that the church has a special relation to truth, then the king does: if this king doesn’t then that king does: revolution, revolution, revolution, with nothing important every changing for long. And if we put Newon in the palace then Newton’s son will be an idiot, or his daughter, his friends. If the republicans have about as much integrity as a Mississippi gambler, then oust them and enthrone democracy: or believe in communism instead: the early Christians did.
The early Christians believed a lot of balderdash, just like the later Christians.
Anyway, the current imbecility believes in rituals of law: if the communists and the royalists are similarly stupid then our survival will be entirely the result of luck: bad luck, we survivce.
Well this flick has Al Pacino as a Satan, Satan has a son, the lawyer, Satan steers resources to his son and heir: he wins case after case as prosecutor, then wins case after case as defense attorney, Satan always seeing that the guilty win, the guilty get off, the no-good lawyers live in the pentshouse.
That’s funny: Satan up top; just the reverse of usual theo-cosmology.
Anyway, our bed of delusions preaches that “fair trials” are a constitutional right, descended from all those churches, palaces, political parties. Satan’s son is good at it, his wife isn’t so sure, and … never mind; the accused’s defense attorney is still supposed to work to see that certain core rituals are observed: stack the jury, then declare the schmuck guilty: or innocent.
So what’s duplicated from my story? I had a solipsist being driven crazy by the noise of civilization: a neighbor is dragging boxes, the solipsist freaks out: “I know how to stop you!” And he blows his own brains out.
Steven King used the same gag: decades after I did.
Note: civilization doesn’t know what’s what if it allows the liars and the cheaters control over the “facts”.
We say we tried this and that: we don’t know what we tried: the media, the Times, the Library … something sould have to be truthful. Infallible.
But never mind: Charlize Theron is gorgeous, so is Satan’s daughter, the lawyer’s sister, Connie Nielsen. Jan loved it.
Inter-Species Intra-Tribal Warfare
The Jungle Book (2016 film)
2017 05 26 Disney’s Jungle Book is something else, great voice acting, great everything: but best of all for me today is the coincidence of watching it climax within hours of reading Chapter II ff. of Jared Diamond’s The World Until Yesterday. In traditional warfare groups form alliances, change alliances … States form, and war continues with alliances, betrayals … In this Kipling-based movie the wolves ally with the bear and the panther allies against the tiger, against the orangutang, the monkeys … Absurdly anthropomorphic? Sure, but not obnoxiously so. The deep symbolism is profound.
2017 06 21 Last evening I showed E.T. to Jan, she seeing it for the first time. Menacing federally organized, key-bearing adults scare the ets among California forest and hills: the aliens take off in their ship, our ET is left behind: he hides in the toolshed of our particular family, doesn’t hide too well, is found by our Elliott. Children and aliens are shown as natural allies, war is shown as natural between divorced families and federally organized adults: no fair play but lots of Terry Gilliam technology, nonsense ducts, tubes, plastic. But it’s all ET’s fault anyway: what an oaf to get separated from his group. Why didn’t the aliens nuke the adult feds? Why didn’t they burn everything, then study it?
Why? ’cause it’s Hollywood.
I grew up believing war could be fixed, racism could be transcended, ignorance overcome. I was deeply offended to notice that Hitler believed that war is inevitable, why not try to win it? to profit from it? Now I agree with Hitler, but don’t expect anyone can “win” anything for long. “Profit” from destroying the environment? Absurd.
This is a famously loveable movie, but it sure breaks a bunch of standards for stupidity.
Steven Spielberg references Peter Pan in parallel throughout. Faith-based magic, healing powers: no consequences that can’t be overcome: so long as morons run society.
ET sure does cast for adorable children: the blond girl in the frog-dissection class is world-class female: the one Elliot climbs on a human ladder to kiss. So I looked her up! Damn if this Erika Eleniak didn’t become a Playboy model! But she was totally beautiful in ET, twelve or thirteen years old!
Now there’s a fuss about some kid going to North Korea, getter mashed, railroaded: who before dumb Americans would have thought cultural trespassers should be safe?!
Download Diamond’s Yesterday: Check out the photograph of the first encounter:
That‘s what ET would look like! realizing he‘s for dinner!
Once upon a time people were wary to venture from their hearth to their yard. Go back far enough and you didn’t dare to have a yard. You cowered in the cave, there were no yards. The were extremely wary to venture through their style to the neighbors. If your neighbor didn’t have you for dinner yesterday does not mean that he won’t have you for dinner today. It helps if you saw him in church last month. Maybe you were an usher at his daughter’s wedding. It doesn’t matter: watch your back, watch your front, watch your sides. Recognize that you’re a hypocrite. It stands to reason that you’re a hypocrite. It helps to believe that you control your God, that God forgives you, no matter what you do, even if you crucify and torture his own son. He wants to forgive you, the fool.
If you don’t trust him you can always trust Hitler.
|Older entries get moved to the Movie Scrapbook Archive:||Movie Scrapbook
Movie Scrapbook Archive
|Movies Menu A — L||Movies Menu M — Z|