Café Lumière the most recent film by Hou Hsiao-Hsien (actually he already has a new one set to premier at Cannes) finally got its, supposedly, first west coast screening at UCLA last night, although it’s already out on DVD in Japan (but w/o English subtitles). Originally filmed as a 100th anniversary tribute to Yasujiro Ozu, the film takes his famous minimalism & reticence to new extremes. In fact, as near as I can remember Café Lumière only has two significant exchanges of dialog throughout the whole film. If there’s any important action taking place, we aren’t shown it. And actually we have no way of knowing if the one piece of news that the whole story pivots on is even supposed to be true. The movie hardly feels like a movie. It actually most often feels like a love letter to Japan Railways - with perhaps a third of the scenes featuring trains! The limited dialog has hardly any importance - instead the ambient noise in each scene takes the lead - the impeccably recorded sounds of small trains in motion, the whisper of crickets and birds and street noise echoing through quiet rooms - as if one of the films central points is to illustrate how there is no such thing as silence - and (like Cage) to force us to slow down and listen to the world spinning through endless space. Beautifully filmed and lighted, with many scenes set in the suburban outskirts of Tokyo and staged in obvious tribute to Ozu’s approach, I was never bored, despite occasionally wishing the film had a little more bite. Like many of Ozu’s works, the picture, to some extent, also examines the relationship between parents and their independent daughter, and her relationship to her lover (if said individual actually exists) and her perhaps more compatible friend (and possible lover). We see the daughter wandering the streets, collecting information on a long gone pianist for a book she is writing. We see her sitting in her apartment. We see her visiting her parents. We see her visiting her friend in his bookstore. We see her drinking coffee. And most often, we see her riding trains across town, or looking at trains rolling by. Her bookstore friend (lover?) is even more into the trains, recording their sounds obsessively for his own personal collection. Is there a connection between his activities and hers? We do see them once on separate trains heading in the same direction, then later - meeting (coincidentally?) on the same train - she asleep - he recording the sounds. It may add up to nothing much more than pretty pictures - but perhaps that’s the idea - could life at its most ideal be just comfortable, pretty pictures? One way or another, everything will work out - no use making a scene. 2:20 PM >>> 0 comments

Finally available on an English subtitled DVD (R2 PAL) is Jean-Luc Godard’s 1966 film, Two or Three Things I Know About Her... a bare bones DVD, but it’s better than nothing. Perhaps this movie is most famous for its long shot of coffee twirling in its cup, but it’s actually sort of a day in the life of a suburban housewife / prostitute. In tone I thought it was actually something like the middle ground between Tati’s Playtime and Bresson’s The Devil, Probably, (both later films). There’s definitely an early blank generation feel to the proceedings, as well as some satire of an overly modern convenience society drowning in capitalism gone atomic. Yet - the cinematography (by Raoul Coutard, of course) is especially amazing. I love those primary colors, abundant signage, and luscious, excessive use of the close-up. The story itself is typically loose - really more of an excuse to philosophize, wander the streets of Paris and look at people and things. The movies penultimate scene, which suggests there’s probably nothing more to life than going to sleep, waking up, going to sleep, waking up and then dying, but maybe that’s not so bad - oh well - comes off quite magically. I’m really glad to have finally seen this long missing semi-abstract classic again after probably at least fifteen years! 10:58 PM >>> 0 comments

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Left last night’s b-movie double feature of Johnny Stool Pigeon (1949) and Larceny (1948) wondering what it is about watching hacked out crap from the 40’s and 50’s that’s almost always fun, while later (mainstream) films rarely interest me in the least. I mean, I’d rather watch b-movies (or worse) from the 40’s than the so called a-pictures of today. There’s definitely some kind of energy from those years (an innocence of imagery?) that we’ve lost.

Johnny Stoll Pigeon, directed by William Castle, focuses on a crook and a cop who team up and go undercover to bust up a Canadian / American drug ring. The stone faced cop, Howard Duff, with the acting skills to match his mug was nonetheless a good foil for slick con Dan Duryea, and a mostly restrained (for her) Shelly Winters.

Larceny, directed by George Sherman, again featured Duryea and Winters, plus John Payne, was considerably more over the top, and for that reason, considerably more fun to watch. The goofy plot actually features a gang of slickster crooks trying to hustle a naive goody two shoes war widow out of a hundred thousand dollars to build a fake war memorial! But things get a bit mucked up when the swindler falls for the widow. Oh - and that his boss’s crazy girlfriend (she admits to having killed her mother!) is obsessed with him, and that his boss is obsessed with keeping his girl for himself. Classic stuff, that works despite what must have been an amazing low budget and a typically barely put together plot. Again, perhaps its best quality was some especially snappy dialog - some surprisingly funny (sharp) business for such a poverty row flick. 10:35 PM >>> 0 comments

Another busy day! In the morning I finished reading David Markson’s Vanishing Point and started re-reading Philip K. Dick’s Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said. Watched For All Mankind, a great, beautiful, and inspiring movie about the first mission to land on the moon (that we know of). Rode the bus out to Westwood to hear some Bulgarian music at The Hammer - a few different groups and styles - from a loose wedding band, to a more folky duo, and even a twenty-plus member woman’s choir (that was amazing). Then caught two more b-movies at The Aero...

The common thread between tonight’s movies were that they both starred Ida Lupino. I definitely preferred 1946’s The Man I Love, directed by Raoul Walsh. The dialog was especially snappy, and it had a few great scenes - especially the only “fight” scene in the movie which featured Lupino hilariously beating a man up (well, slapping him into submission). The picture also had a good understanding of music - more so than your typical movie - it seemed like the characters who were into music (Lupino played a torch singer) actually really loved music. It’s nice when there’s more to a movie than just plot. Deep Valley, directed by Jean Negulesco in 1946, was all plot - some interesting ideas were floating around in there somewhere, but for me it played really flat. Here, Lupino lives a sheltered life with her mother and father, off in an out of the way, run down house. She’s the oppressed, stuttering go-between for her parents, who haven’t talked to each other in seven years. Lupino falls for a convict who is working on a road building crew. On the same night he escapes from lock-down (thanks to a massive mudslide) she (coincidentally) runs away from home. They fall hard for each other when they end up hiding out in the same cabin, but the dragnet is closing in. Eventually she hides him from her parents and the law, Anne Frank style, in the second floor of her garage, waiting for their chance to escape together to San Francisco (the big city! where they can get lost in the crowd). One of the goofier elements of the story has her parents constantly and harshly deriding her for her stutter, but then, miraculously, her speech impediment vanishes completely through the magic of love with the murderer who never meant to murder. Almost every second of Deep Valley seemed as if the people who made the picture couldn’t have cared less... including a typically tacked on happy-ish ending that made things even worse than if they just let it end on a more natural downbeat. Oh well. 1:34 AM >>> 0 comments

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Tonight began another four day weekend worth of film noirs. It’s nice that even though I missed most of them at the Egyptian a few weeks back, I’m now getting a second chance at the Aero in Santa Monica. Both of tonight’s films were directed by Anthony Mann, Border Incident from 1949 and Side Street from 1950, and I really enjoyed them (and both for different reasons).

I found Border Incident to be slightly weaker, with its more drifting story - a look into the world of Mexican’s crossing the border for work in the fields and the crooked guys on both side of the line taking advantage of ‘em - although most of the story was from the perspective of two cops, one from Mexico and one from the U.S., and their efforts to save the workers. It had its great moments (especially the shoot outs towards the end), but the piture’s overall force was somewhat diluted because it tried to slip in a little too much “message.”

On the other hand, Side Street, was just a flat out classic film noir, all forward motion. Filmed on the streets of New York & with that special energy only “New York” films seem to have. Regular folks that actually seem like regular folks - not just Hollywood dreamers. The minimal plot has any every day Joe, part-time postman who to his own regret, thinks he’s stealing a couple hundred dollars, but ends up with a cool thirty-thousand. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t just steal the money from a legitimate target, but from a couple of real tough guys who’d just earned the money the hard way - through an extortion scheme and murder. And they’d like their money back. And the cops would like to solve the murder as well. And another murder. And another. So we got out regular Joe on the run now (while his wife gives birth to their first son)! On the run from the good guys and bad guys. And another thing - is our regular Joe really a good guy or a bad guy? While his wife is still in the hospital is he really out in a bar picking up a torch singer (gangster’s moll)? Etcetera! Side Street delivers, hits all the classic beats, and is lots of fun. 2:03 AM >>> 0 comments

A very nice night at LACMA listening to the Artemis Quartet play some Mozart, Bartók and Schumann. It was kind of interesting to hear the works of three different composers from three very different eras played back to back to back. I must admit, Bartók’s String Quartet No. 2 Op. 17, the most modern piece played, was also my favorite piece. Even though it’s also almost ninety years old, it still seemed very fresh to my ears - the most challenging and the most moving. I have all his string quartets on CD played by the Takács Quartet and will be giving them a much closer listen in the coming weeks. I also really enjoyed Schumann’s Quartet in A Major Op. 41, No. 3 which I’d never heard before and will be trying to track down a good CD of in the next few days. I especially loved the second and fourth movements with their large, playful, and excitingly repeated themes. The Mozart Quartet in F Major, the last of the twenty-three string quartets he wrote was nice, but I was somehow less into it. To my ears, it sounded too polite and like too much other stuff I’ve heard. Fortunately it was the first piece played, so the night quickly grew more interesting. I think it might be yet another case where something is so familiar, it gets a little ruined.

This was actually my first time going to LACMA to hear music. Usually I just go there to see movies. I was surprised by the modest size of the crowd. The theater is fairly large, but was only maybe 1/4 full. For me though it was just the perfect, kind of laid back atmosphere for a relaxing Tuesday night, and I’ll definitely be catching more shows there in the future (sooner rather than later). I’ve been meaning to go for a while and am damn glad I finally did. It’s amazing to me that after over six years in this town, I’m still constantly finding new, good things I want to do. 12:23 AM >>> 0 comments

Here's a hilarious thirty minute interview with Gilbert Sorrentino on writing from November 10th, 2004. Actually I just discovered this site and browsing through their archives I can see they have tons of interesting looking author interviews (and readings) available there in real audio. Do check it out. 3:11 PM >>> 0 comments

There’s so many things I want to do every day, so much more than can be possibly done in a day (or even a week). I feel like I’m missing out on a ton of great stuff - so much has been going on around town of late - it’s harder than ever to choose what to spend my limited time doing. I also honestly love just spending time in my apartment (so much to do if I just stayed right here it’s not even funny).

I did find time to make it out to Westwood this afternoon to catch a performance of some classical Indian music. I have a few CDs of this kind of stuff, but have actually never heard tablas or sitars played live. It was pretty cool. The group started out playing a long piece with two sitar and two tabla players (pictured above). Then the second half of the set was all tabla (drums) - four players, but usually working solo. The few pieces that featured all four going at it full blast was some amazing sounds. Would love to go to more shows with this music and maybe gain a better understanding of the patterns and emotions created by this extremely technical music. 5:56 PM >>> 0 comments

A visually impressive selection of movement & travel themed new comics by a variety of authors is available for browsing here. Some strips are wordless, most are in French, but some are in English too. So many new pages have been posted in the last week that it’s actually overwhelming - too much stuff to read - yet I want to read it all. You can also browse the site by author. 10:22 PM >>> 0 comments

I’ve been up in San Francisco for the last handful of days, mostly doing comic book stuff (which went well), but I did find time to see one pretty interesting concert Saturday night. This was at the SomArts Gallery, where as part of the Just Intonation Festival, Ellen Fullman and her compatriots performed a rather unique work (mostly) on her extremely unique “Long String Instrument.” Actually the long string instrument is a series of strings (12? 14? 20?) stretched seventy feet across the gallery. Fullman played it by sliding her fingers along the strings as she walked back and forth along their length (at different speeds - but usually slowly). Most of the sounds explored were long and drone like - the pamphlet passed out at the show describes the tones as organ like, and I wouldn’t disagree. At times, two other people were also playing along the instrument, creating a generally louder series of hums. They also did some segments with gliss glass (sort of like wine glasses (with water) that could be tuned up or down - played along the edges of or thumped with a stick), saw, autoharp and French horn interacting somewhat with the LSI. Apparently all the works were composed although if somebody told me all the works were instant improvisations I would have believed them just as easily. One way or the other, it made for an evening of some rather original listening experiences. I’m not exactly rushing out to pick up any Fullman CDs, but if she was putting on a show down here, I definitely wouldn’t pass up the chance to hear more of her seventy-foot long string craziness music. 6:16 PM >>> 0 comments

The Tate has finally updated their archives! The most valuable additions have to be the programs on photographer Robert Frank. About four and a half hours of talks on his work are now available in 256k and 56k real video streams here. 9:24 PM >>> 0 comments

What it all boils down to is, there’s simply no other sound I’d rather hear than a saxophone blown at full blast. In that regard, this evening’s show featuring Wally Shoup on alto certainly didn’t disappoint. Combine that with the ferocious guitar talents of Nels Cline and the dynamic drum work by Chris Carsano and yes, a very good evening was had.

Actually this was my first time catching a set at linespaceline’s new downtown location - mainly because it’s just that extra bit farther from my apartment to make me think three times before spending a tired Monday night in no man’s land. Nonetheless, linespaceline continues to present probably the most consistently interesting and adventurous music available to ears trapped in Los Angeles. I miss to my own regret.

Yes - I was very glad to finally hear Shoup, especially after the recent feature in The Wire woke me up to his music for real (after seeing his name around for years). Seems like I’ve seen Nels Cline a hundred times - but there’s no other living guitarist I’d rather see again and again - actually there’s only a very few other guitarists out there (Ribot, Bailey and ???) who seem worth one’s very limited time. Corsano, the youngest member of the group by at least twenty years was perfectly capable of playing up to his elder’s demanding levels. I suspect he’s a drummer we’ll be hearing a lot more of in the future (and I’ve recently been digging the Cold Bleak Heat CD he plays on too).

The three lengthy improvs played moved the distance between full-on skronk to the quieter sounds - but was always one-hundred percent compelling. I’m really hoping these three guys will be releasing some CDs together - because the music made this night, was pretty much as good as music can possibly get. 1:00 AM >>> 0 comments

For me, Palm Beach Story, a screwball comedy written and directed by the great Preston Sturges, is just about as close to perfect as movies can get. Originally released in 1942 and out now in an inexpensive bare bones DVD (only about ten bucks!) of acceptable quality, it’s not to be missed, especially if you like the laughs. Along with Sullivan’s Travels and the Lady Eve, it’s why people still talk about Preston Sturges today. I can’t think of many films that have even come close to matching the relentlessly exciting pacing, inventiveness and damn bright comedy at work in this amazing trio of American films. Palm Beach Story is a picture that rarely stops to catch it’s breath. Its one hour and twenty-eight minutes flash by so fast I’d swear it was more like forty-five. Grumpy Joel McCrea is hilarious and sparkplug Claudette Colbert is even better. Colbert, apparently tired of being flat broke and of being married and to McCrea splits to Palm Beach for a quickie divorce and hoping to meet somebody rich. McCrea, wisely, doesn’t want to see her go and with a loan from the “weenie-king” (don’t ask) sets of to Florida in hopes of dragging her back home. The extended sequence between Colbert and the Ale and Quail club on the train south is especially fantastic. If you haven’t seen this one before, you’re missing out, or if like me, you’ve been lucky enough to see this before, by all means, I think it’s time to give it another spin.

By the way, news on the street is that Criterion has scheduled one of Sturges’s later flicks, 1948’s Unfaithfully Yours for R1 DVD release this July. 12:06 AM >>> 0 comments

Some movies are rarely screened because they’re so shit that’s all they deserve. This year’s film noir festival at the Egyptian Theater, in their effort to for the most part avoid the obvious selections, it’s the seventh annual festival after all, seems to be scraping the bottom of the barrel more than ever. Lasts night’s (mostly) worthless features included 1951’s The Whip Hand and 1954’s Wicked as the Come. Both were seemingly classified as “noirs” simply because they were filmed in black and white, and one suspects it’s harder to get people to come to the theater to see D-movies instead of “film-noirs.”

Wicked as the Come tells the story of a poor girl from Brooklyn sleeping her way out of the slums and straight to the top. She can’t love because of being “attacked” by four guys in her youth, but she can look beautiful, and use a succession of men to get what she wants - which is apparently being married to a really rich dude & living in France. Unfortunately one of the men she has fucked over eventually comes calling, looking for revenge. She steals her rich husbands gun intending to defend herself, but ends up killing her husband (who she mistakes for her prowling ex-lover in a fit of hysteria). Convicted of murdering her husband to get his money, she’s sentenced to die at the guillotine, but is saved when the man who “really” loves her, tracks down the prowling ex-lover who confesses he actually existed, which leads to her conviction being commuted to manslaughter (and a three months sentence instead of off with her head).

The horrible titled The Whip Hand (there is no whip or hand involved in the film as far as I could tell - over even really “a position of dominance” as the phrase is described as meaning in the dictionaries) was so ridiculously awful that it made Wicked as the Come appear as a quality entertainment. It did feature some moments of competent cinematography, but with rotten acting (but it’s amazing the actors could even keep straight faces dealing with such garbage) and an even worse, honestly embarrassingly bad plot - this is one film I’d cry no tears over if it were to be lost for good. The laughable story, seeped in the anti-communist fervor that was gaining momentum in the USA of the time, features a cell of American communists settled in a small town, developing (along with the help of an ex-Nazi scientist) germ cultures that they intend to use (under orders from Moscow, seen pointing at a US map in the first scene & speaking gibberish Russian) to wipe out America. Luckily our hero, a magazine writer on vacation, stumbles into town after bumping his head while trying to fish in the local watering hole. His suspicions are slowly aroused by the strange way everyone is acting and their efforts to get him to split. Also that all the fish have died after being mysteriously poisoned. In twenty-four hours he also manages to “fall in love” with the local beauty, who happens to be the sister of one of the doctors developing the germ warfare project. When the bad guys get sick of the reporter poking around, they decide to bump him off, he attempts to escape with the girl (in one hilarious scene they sneak through the town at night carrying a canoe, hiding behind a building with the tip of the canoe pointing around the corner (unnoticed!). Of course they are eventually captured, and the villains explain all their plans as they are about to inject the lovers with hideous diseases. Fortunately, at the last moment, ten or twelve machine-gun wielding FBI men called in by the reporter’s colleagues storm the communist’s compound and just manage to save the day. A close escape!

It’s interesting to think of the hundreds, or more likely thousands of movies that were made like this. Low budget, no real thought to quality or merit, other than their ability to fill up time on a movie screen and make a few dollars from gullible or exhausted suckers who might have nothing better to do than watch whatever was put in front of them. Or worse, you think of the effect these films could have possibly had on the not fully formed minds of younger viewers of the times. Harmless entertainment, or pro-war and anti-women brainwashing? 11:49 AM >>> 0 comments

You can view a quicktime trailer for the new Hal Hartley SF film(!?!), The Girl From Monday, here. If you live in Chicago, Seattle, San Francisco or New York, you can see the actual film when it screens later this month. 1:55 PM >>> 0 comments

The complete schedule for this year's Vision Festival (in NYC of course) has been posted here. Looks like they've gone all out for the tenth year - way too much music! Lots I'm looking forward to & I will try to make as much as I can. I wonder what shows will be going on at the Tonic (which has made enough dollars to stay in business after all) and The Stone over those same days? Some tough choices may have to be made. June 14th-19th should be good on these old ears. 8:37 AM >>> 0 comments