trailer tuesday

this week's entry is for philip kaufman's adaptation of milan kundera's the unbearable lightness of being (1988).


hardboiled starlite

the first starlite cinema series installment of this spring is now in the books.

we kicked off our two-part walk down raymond chandler's dark alleys with howard hawks' the big sleep (1946). bogie and bacall (in addition to ray miland, the marx brothers and others) also made cameo appearances in our opener, the looney tunes short, slick hare (1947). it was a beautiful night under the stars for classic film and lauren, as usual, made it that much better with her culinary contributions. first, she started with mounds of fresh fruit.

next, she took that action to the grill.

and, as if that weren't enough, she made whipped cream, drizzled it all with honey and topped it with mint fresh from her garden. hardboiled detective stories and fresh, fire-grilled fruit makes for a fine way to spend a spring evening with friends, new and old. fellow paramount theatre devotee, giraldo barraza, dropped by. he writes the excellent blog, the united states of cinemerica, which everyone should check out, especially if you love the paramount like i do. on top of that, my friend liz, whom i haven't seen in the flesh in years, made it out, which i hope is a regular occurrence now that she lives in austin again. more film, more food, more friends - our motto as we approach our third year of doing these screenings.

speaking of milestones, we celebrate our second starlite anniversary with next month's screening. i always like to make these special so we are going to conclude our first two-part program with a film that is in the running for the movie i have seen more times than any other, robert altman's the long goodbye (1973).

we pick up with chandler's knight-errant detective with elliott gould playing him as if he has been in hibernation since the big sleep, waking up in the sun-dappled, early seventies los angeles that is now populated by yoga enthusiasts and two-bit hoods who are armchair pop psychologists. the list of things i love about this movie is long, and one day i will write a vital-graph piece all about it, but until then, join us on saturday, 4.28.12, at 8:30 p.m. to celebrate our anniversary and catch an underrated american classic. here is the facebook event page. feel free to rsvp there or just send me a note and i will make sure you get all the pertinent information. come early, come late, bring food, don't bring food. as long as we get to see your face it's o.k. with me.



trailer tuesday

ok, so i am about thirty minutes late to qualify as tuesday. this week's entry is for victor salva's jeepers creepers (2001). happy first day of spring. hope it's not the 23rd one.


trailer tuesday

sxsw rolls on and today's entry celebrates the eternal desire to rock. at the age of 70 this beautiful woman decided to make music and now she can't stop, finding music in everything she touches. ladies and gentlemen, kristín björk, orri jonsson and ingibjorg birgisdóttir's grandma lo-fi: the basement tapes of sigrídur níelsdóttir (2012).

you still have a chance to see this on wednesday and thursday.


cinematic crimes of the eighties

yeah, i know. the eighties were "awesome".

right away we have an issue. the issue is we need a translator. or, to put it in a format you'll understand, "i don't think that word means what you think it means". see what i did there? right away we need to establish the difference between "i remember this fondly because it reminds me of a time when my happiness was looked after" and "i think this is a thing of quality". mainstream eighties culture, which is what most people mean when they refer to the time period, was a wasteland. i was there, i saw it. i think we're going to be waiting a long time before we see another decade that we should be as ashamed of. but, as gale snoats said in 1987, i'd rather light a candle than curse your darkness, so here i am in your little domicile to help shed light on the cinematic crimes of the eighties in hopes that this recurring feature can help us acknowledge them and, once our work is done here, leave them behind. forever.

the cineplexes did us no favors in those days, filling everyone's mushy brains with images of a hughesian utopia populated by geeks, sportos, motorheads, dweebs, dorks, sluts and buttheads. one character, though, worked overtime to single themselves out as the object of my scorn - the best friend.

one of the worst things that eighties cinema ever tried to teach us is that we should find the loudest, most obnoxious, attention-whore jackass in school that never shut up and align ourselves with them. in the eighties this was known as a "best friend" as opposed to a "total asshole". hey, you never know when you're going to need a tuxedo t-shirt, right? in the real world, this is the kid that got himself and you thrown in dumpsters. if it had stopped there it would be bad enough but our little wisecracker wasn't content to sit on the sidelines. anyone with a light like that is doing the world an injustice by letting it languish under the bushel of best friend status. like all of us, the character grew up, in this case maturing into the loudest, most obnoxious, attention-whore leading man that never shuts up.

nice work if you can get it. and if you're a douche.

you wouldn't let these characters in your house. if they worked with you, you would do anything to make sure your lunch hours didn't coincide, lest you were stuck with them in the break room, so why give them your ticket money or waste time remembering them fondly, letting nostalgia make a sap out of you all over again? you can let go. it will be alright. you can admit the eighties might not be quite as "awesome" as you remember. either that or walk the walk. and i don't see a whole lot of you lining up to buy fluorescent colored, knee-length sweatshirts.


trailer tuesday

the sxsw film festival starts friday and, as always, there are too many things to see and too little time. to get things off on the right foot, this week's entry is for one of my most anticipated festival films, poull brien's charles bradley: soul of america (2012). at some point this week i will be somewhere in austin, watching this, probably crying like a baby.