Independent films
fromThe Independent
4 days agoSteven Spielberg shares huge admission about Christopher Nolan film Interstellar
Interstellar was originally intended to be directed by Steven Spielberg before Christopher Nolan took over the project.
I knew he was a legendary director and he was giving me a list of his movies like Raging Bull, Taxi Driver. Then he was like, 'You probably can't watch any of those quite yet, but there is this one movie I directed called Hugo.' A couple days later, in the mail, I received a copy of Hugo on Blu-ray from his office, which is really crazy.
Memento provides a Rosetta Stone to decode deeper meaning within his larger-scale efforts, offering a window into the complex paradoxes that add thematic weight to his intricately plotted stories. Nolan's films often jump from a familiar genre archetype. In Memento, Guy Pearce's Leonard Shelby recalls the weary antiheroes of film noir, but his filmography is full of familiar figures ranging from superheroes to great men of history.
They've done some wonderful brick work. There are some brick steps with inset lights leading down to a new pool in the back yard. The late actor's pool on another part of the 2.5-acre property has been filled with concrete, and the statuary he had installed has been sold.
Cinematography isn't about beautiful images. It's about producing a whole series of images that serve a story. If I come out of a premiere and somebody says, 'Oh, I love the shot when such and such ...' I know I've made a mistake.
Rosanna Arquette spoke about her time on the film in an interview with the Sunday Times in which she said she's "over" the "use of the N-word," adding that she cannot stand that Tarantino "has been given a hall pass. It's not art, it's just racist and creepy."
During a junket interview with OutNow, Gyllenhaal explained that the punctuation mark was included to represent the "whole lot of energy" that comes out when the historically muted Bride of Frankenstein is finally allowed to speak. That's all well and good, but to viewers the titular exclamation point is less of a metaphor and more of a golden arrow saying, "This movie is going to be crazy."
George Lucas should have died. It was 1962; the 17-year-old had just crashed his yellow Autobianchi convertible into a walnut tree, in Modesto, California. The car rolled, bounced and came to rest - it was "beyond mangled, flipped upside down and twisted like a crushed Coke can against the tree". When the teenager woke in hospital two weeks later, his heart having nearly stopped, he had a new philosophy: "Maybe there's a reason I survived this accident that nobody should have survived."
Starring Brad Pitt as the titular Cliff Booth along with Elizabeth Debicki, Scott Caan, Carla Gugino, and more, the trailer depicts Booth after the events of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. "So you helped rick subdue those hippie intruders, huh?," he's asked before replying "Something like that." The teaser then shows various scenes and scenarios from the film, but with minimal dialogue; though each time a character cusses or flips someone off, it's bleeped and censored.
In fact, I've made a conscious habit of seeking out successful individuals so I can learn from their experiences. But the man often nicknamed the "King of the Hollywood Blockbuster" continues to elude me. And yet, despite never meeting face to face, Spielberg taught me one of the most important lessons of my entire career. It's a lesson I've learned through engaging with his work.
The esteemed film-maker was licking his wounds: his most recent picture, Far from the Madding Crowd, which imbued its 19th-century rural characters with an anachronistic King's Road style and panache, had flopped stateside. Childers approached the date with mixed feelings. He adored Schlesinger's previous movie, the jazzy Darling, starring Julie Christie as a model on the make, and had seen it three times.
Even in an era of CGI and AI, nothing is more vivid than the intimacy and imagination of radio or more direct than the connection radio has with listeners. I remember when the legendary Stan Freberg drained Lake Michigan and filled it with hot chocolate, a 700-foot mountain of whipped cream, and a 10-ton maraschino cherry. We didn't have to see it. We heard it on the radio. It was Freberg's demonstration of what radio can do better than television.
It's nice that you are asking about props, because they're not really acknowledged, says Jode Mann, a TV prop master in Los Angeles. When Mann worked on the children's comedy show Pee-wee's Playhouse in the 1980s, she got a call from its star, Paul Reubens, who said he was nominating her for an Emmy. It was only after Mann told her mother and promised to thank her if she won that Reubens called back to say he couldn't nominate her because there's no category for you.
" The film was shot in Ultra Panavision 70 with lenses that yielded an aspect ratio of 2.76 to 1, and it was breathtaking," Scorsese said. "But it wasn't just the size of the image, it was the imprint of the man behind the camera who knew how to fill that frame, how to compose it. And composer seems like the right word to describe George Stevens and the extraordinary level of artistry he reached at that point in his life and career."
A quarter-century later, it's safe to say that those days have come to an end. Not only does the streaming-only Netflix of the twenty-twenties no longer transmit movies on DVD through the mail (a service its younger users have trouble even imagining), it ranks approximately nowhere as a preferred cinephile destination. That has to do with a selection much diminished since the DVD days