recentpopularlog in

robertogreco : filmmaking   187

« earlier  
SpeculativeEdu | Superflux: Tools and methods for making change
"Anab Jain and Jon Ardern of Superflux (“a studio for the rapidly changing world”) talk to James Auger about their approach, their recent projects, and their educational activities.

Superflux create worlds, stories, and tools that provoke and inspire us to engage with the precarity of our rapidly changing world. Founded by Anab Jain and Jon Ardern in 2009, the Anglo-Indian studio has brought critical design, futures and foresight approaches to new audiences while working for some of the world’s biggest organisations like Microsoft Research, Sony, Samsung and Nokia, and exhibiting work at MoMA New York, the National Museum of China, and the V&A in London. Over the last ten years, the studio has gained critical acclaim for producing work that navigates the entangled wilderness of our technology, politics, culture, and environment to imagine new ways of seeing, being, and acting. The studio’s partners and clients currently include Government of UAE, Innovate UK, Cabinet Office UK, Red Cross, UNDP, Mozilla and Forum for the Future. Anab is also Professor at Design Investigations, University of Applied Arts, Vienna.

[Q] You practice across numerous and diverse fields (education, commercial, gallery). Does your idea of speculative design change for each of these contexts? How do you balance the different expectations of each?

We don’t tend to strictly define our work as “Speculative Design”. Usually we say we are designers or artists or filmmakers. Speculative Design is gaining traction lately, and we might have a client of two who knows the term and might even hire us for that, but usually they come to us because they want to explore a possible future or a different narrative, or investigate a technology. We think our work investigates a potential rather than speculating on a future. Speculation is an undeniable part of the process but it is not the primary motivation behind our work. Our work is an open-ended process of enquiry, whilst speculation can at times feel like a closed loop.

[Q] There is a tendency, in many speculative design works, towards dystopian futures. It seems that as with science fiction, apocalyptic futures are easier to imagine and tell as stories. Focusing on your CCCB installation, Mitigation of Shock, how would you describe this project in terms of its value connotation? What is the purpose of such a project?

For us, Mitigation of Shock is actually not apocalyptic at all, but instead a pragmatic vision of hope, emerging from a dystopian future ravaged by climate change. On a personal level, it can be difficult for people to imagine how an issue like global warming might affect everyday life for our future selves, or generations to come. Our immersive simulation merges the macabre and the mundane as the social and economic consequences of climate change infiltrate the domestic space.

The installation transports people decades into the future (or perhaps even closer on the horizon), into an apartment in London which has been drastically adapted for living with the consequences of climate catastrophe. Familiar, yet alien. A domestic space alive with multispecies inhabitants, surviving and thriving together in an indoor microcosm. Climate projections from the beginning of the century have unfurled into reality, their consequences reverberating across the globe. Climate catastrophes shatter global supply chains. Economic and political fragility, social fragmentation, and food insecurity destabilise society.

Rather than optimistically stick our heads in the sand, or become overwhelmed with fear, we decided to catapult ourselves and others directly into a specific geographical and cultural context to experience the ripple effects of extreme weather conditions. Hope often works best alongside tools for proactively tackling future challenges. Which is why, in this year-long experimental research project, we explored, designed and built an apartment located in a future no one wants, but that may be on the horizon. Not to scare, or overwhelm, but to help people critically reflect upon their actions in the present, and introduce them to potential solutions for living in such a future. The evidence in the apartment may reflect a different future, but all the food apparatus was in fully working condition, no speculation there. We wanted to demonstrate that we have the tools and methods we need to make the change today.

[Q] We are living in complicated times – politically, environmentally, culturally. After several years of speculative and critical design evolution, do you think that it can have a more influential role in shaping futures/alternatives beyond the discussions that typically take place in the design community?

We wrote a little bit about this here: https://medium.com/superfluxstudio/stop-shouting-future-start-doing-it-e036dba17cdc.

[Q] Could it adopt more political or activist role? If so, how could this aspect be incorporated into education?

Yes definitely. Our latest project Trigger Warning explores this very space: https://mod.org.au/exhibits/trigger-warning. And then a completely different project: http://superflux.in/index.php/work/future-of-democracy-algorithmic-power/#temp.

[Anab] Also my students at the Angewandte will be exploring the theme of “futures of democracy” in the upcoming semester.

[Q] Coming from India but educated at the RCA, what was your take on the “privilege” discussion via Design and Violence? More specifically, what can we learn from this debate? How can it push speculative design forwards?

[Anab] I sensed an underlying assumption in that debate that anybody from the West was seen as “privileged” and anyone from any other colonised country is not. Whilst there is a long and troubling history to colonisation in India, I do bear in mind that India was always a battleground for clans and dynasties from other countries long before the West came and colonised it. These issues are very complex, and I think the only way we can attempt to understand them is by avoiding accusations and flamewars, but instead opening up space for everyone’s voice to be heard.

As things stands today, even though I come from India, a lot of people would argue that, within India, I am privileged because I had the opportunity to choose my education path and the person I want to marry. On the other hand, I know lots and lots of people in the West (white/male even) who are disempowered because of systemic privilege within the West. So discussions of race, gender expression and privilege are much more granular than simplistic accusations, and I strongly believe that designers who address complex issues, whilst battling student loans and rents, should be applauded, not condemned.

[Q] How can we resist or overcome the situation where avant-garde design practices, established as a resistance to the dominant system, ultimately become appropriated by the system?

If we successfully overturn capitalism, the rest will follow."
superflux  2019  anabjain  jonardern  jamesauger  design  designfiction  speculativefiction  speculativedesign  capitalism  democracy  climatechange  education  marrtive  film  filmmaking  art  artists  potential  inquiry  open-ended  openendedness  hope  globalwarming  future  politics  activism  india  colonialism  colonization  complexity  privilege 
27 days ago by robertogreco
INCITE » Anti-100 Years of Cinema Manifesto, by Jonas Mekas
"As you well know it was God who created this Earth and everything on it. And he thought it was all great. All painters and poets and musicians sang and celebrated the creation and that was all OK. But not for real. Something was missing. So about 100 years ago God decided to create the motion picture camera. And he did so. And then he created a filmmaker and said, “Now here is an instrument called the motion picture camera. Go and film and celebrate the beauty of the creation and the dreams of human spirit, and have fun with it.”

But the devil did not like that. So he placed a money bag in front of the camera and said to the filmmakers, ‘Why do you want to celebrate the beauty of the world and the spirit of it if you can make money with this instrument?” And, believe it or not, all the filmmakers ran after the money bag. The Lord realized he had made a mistake. So, some 25 years later, to correct his mistake, God created independent avant-garde filmmakers and said, “Here is the camera. Take it and go into the world and sing the beauty of all creation, and have fun with it. But you will have a difficult time doing it, and you will never make any money with this instrument.”

Thus spoke the Lord to Viking Eggeling, Germaine Dulac, Jean Epstein, Fernand Leger, Dmitri Kirsanoff, Marcel Duchamp, Hans Richter, Luis Bunuel, Man Ray, Cavalcanti, Jean Cocteau, and Maya Deren, and Sidney Peterson, and Kenneth Anger, Gregory Markopoulos, Stan Brakhage, Marie Menken, Bruce Baillie, Francis Lee, Harry Smith and Jack Smith and Ken Jacobs, Ernie Gehr, Ron Rice, Michael Snow, Joseph Cornell, Peter Kubelka, Hollis Frampton and Barbara Rubin, Paul Sharits, Robert Beavers, Christopher McLaine, and Kurt Kren, Robert Breer, Dore O, Isidore Isou, Antonio De Bernardi, Maurice Lemaitre, and Bruce Conner, and Klaus Wyborny, Boris Lehman, Bruce Elder, Taka Iimura, Abigail Child, Andrew Noren and too many others. Many others all over the world. And they took their Bolexs and their little 8mm and Super 8 cameras and began filming the beauty of this world, and the complex adventures of the human spirit, and they're having great fun doing it. And the films bring no money and do not do what's called useful.

And the museums all over the world are celebrating the one-hundredth anniversary of cinema, costing them millions of dollars the cinema makes, all going gaga about their Hollywoods. But there is no mention of the avant-garde or the independents of our cinema.

I have seen the brochures, the programs of the museums and archives and cinematheques around the world. But these say, “we don't care about your cinema.” In the times of bigness, spectaculars, one hundred million dollar movie productions, I want to speak for the small, invisible acts of human spirit: so subtle, so small, that they die when brought out under the Klieg lights. I want to celebrate the small forms of cinema: the lyrical form, the poem, the watercolor, etude, sketch, portrait, arabesque, and bagatelle, and little 8mm songs. In the times when everybody wants to succeed and sell, I want to celebrate those who embrace social and daily failure to pursue the invisible, the personal things that bring no money and no bread and make no contemporary history, art history or any other history. I am for art which we do for each other, as friends.

I am standing in the middle of the information highway and laughing, because a butterfly on a little flower somewhere in China just fluttered its wings, and I know that the entire history, culture will drastically change because of that fluttering. A Super 8mm camera just made a little soft buzz somewhere, somewhere on the lower east side of New York, and the world will never be the same.

The real history of cinema is invisible history: history of friends getting together, doing the thing they love. For us, the cinema is beginning with every new buzz of the projector, with every new buzz of our cameras. With every new buzz of our cameras, our hearts jump forward my friends."
manifestos  jonasmekas  1996  cinema  film  filmmaking  archives  museums  small 
6 weeks ago by robertogreco
The Creative Independent: Jonas Mekas on documenting your life
"Were you ever interested in writing a straightforward memoir about your life?

I don’t have time for that. There are fragments of that in this book, but I think my films are my biography. There are bits and fragments of my personal life in all of my films, so maybe someday I’ll put them together and that will be my autobiography."



"People talk a lot about your films, but you have a poetry practice as well.

Occasionally I still write poems. It comes from a different part of me. When you write, of course it comes from your mind, into your fingers, and finally reaches the paper. With a camera, of course there is also the mind but it’s in front of the lens, what the lens can catch. It’s got nothing to do with the past, but only the image itself. It’s there right now. When you write, you could write about what you thought 30 years ago, where you went yesterday, or what you want for the future. Not so with the film. Film is now.

Are most of your decisions intuitive? Is it a question of just feeling when something is right or when it isn’t?

I don’t feel it necessarily, but it’s like I am forced—like I have to take my camera and film, though I don’t know why. It’s not me who decides. I feel that I have to take the camera and film. That is what’s happening. It’s not a calculated kind of thing. The same when I write. It’s not calculated. Not planned at all. It just happens. My filmmaking doesn’t cost money and doesn’t take time. Because one can always afford to film 10 seconds in one day or shoot one roll of film in a month. It’s not that complicated. I always had a job of one kind of other to support myself because I had to live, I had to eat, and I had to film.

How do you feel about art schools? Is being an artist something that can be taught?

I never wanted to make art. I would not listen to anybody telling me how to do it. No, nobody can teach you to do it your way. You have to discover by doing it. That’s the only way. It’s only by doing that you discover what you still need, what you don’t know, and what you still have to learn. Maybe some technical things you have to learn for what you really want to do, but you don’t know when you begin. You don’t know what you want to do. Only when you begin doing do you discover which direction you’re going and what you may need on the journey that you’re traveling. But you don’t know at the beginning.

That’s why I omitted film schools. Why learn everything? You may not need any of it. Or while you begin the travel of the filmmaker’s journey, maybe you discover that you need to know more about lighting, for instance. Maybe what you are doing needs lighting. You want to do something more artificial, kind of made up, so then you study lights, you study lenses, you study whatever you feel you don’t know and you need. When you make a narrative film, a big movie with actors and scripts, you need all that, but when you just try to sing, you don’t need anything. You just sing by yourself with your camera or with your voice or you dance. On one side it is being a part of the Balanchine, on the other side it is someone dancing in the street for money. I’m the one who dances in the street for money and nobody throws me pennies. Actually, I get a few pennies… but that’s about it.

You’ve made lots of different kinds of films over many years. Did you always feel like you were still learning, still figuring it out as your went along?

Not necessarily. I would act stupid sometimes when people used to see me with my Bolex recording some random moment. They’d say, “What is this?” I’d say, “Oh nothing, it’s not serious.” I would hide from Maya Deren. I never wanted her to see me filming because she would say, “But this is not serious. You need a script!” Then I’d say, “Oh, I’m just fooling. I’m just starting to learn,” but it was just an excuse that I was giving, that I’m trying to learn. I always knew that this was more or less the materials I’d always be using. I was actually filming. There is not much to learn in this kind of cinema, other than how to turn on a camera. What you learn, you discover as you go. What you are really learning is how to open yourself to all the possibilities. How to be very, very, very open to the moment and permitting the muse to come in and dictate. In other words, the real work you are doing is on yourself."



"You are a kind of master archivist. I’m looking around this space—which is packed with stuff, but it all appears to be pretty meticulously organized. How important is it to not only document your work, but to also be a steward of your own archives.

You have to. For me there is constantly somebody who wants to see something in the archives, so I have to deal with it. I cannot neglect them. These are my babies. I have to take care of them. I learned very early that it’s very important to keep careful indexes of everything so that it helps you to find things easily when it’s needed. For example, I have thousands of audio cassettes, in addition to all the visual materials. I have a very careful index of every cassette. I know what’s on it. You tell me the name of the person or the period and I will immediately, within two or three minutes, be able to retrieve it. People come here and look around and say, “Oh, how can you find anything in this place?” No, I find it very easily.

I always carry a camera with me in order to capture or record a couple images and sometimes conversations. Evenings, parties, dinners, meetings, friends. Now, it’s all on video, but back when I was using the Bolex camera, I always had a Sony tape recorder in my pocket—a tiny Sony and that picked up sounds. I have a lot of those from the ’60s, ’70s, ’80s. Hundreds and hundreds. I have books which are numbered, each page has written down what’s on each numbered cassette. I don’t index everything, that would be impossible, but approximation is enough. I advise everyone to do this. Record things. Keep an index. It’s very important."



"Aside from all of those projects, do you still have a sort of day-to-day creative practice?

I never needed a creative practice. I don’t believe in creativity. I just do things. I grew up on a farm where we made things, grew things. They just grow and you plant the seeds and then they grow. I just keep making things, doing things. Has nothing to do with creativity. I don’t need creativity."



"And the last remaining company that still made VCRs recently went out of business.

So, all of this new technology, it’s okay for now… but it’s very temporary. You could almost look at it from a spiritual angle. All technology is temporary. Everything falls to dust anyway. And yet, you keep making things."
jonasmekas  2017  film  filmmaking  poetry  documentation  archives  collage  books  writing  creativity  howwewrite  biography  autobiography  art  work  labor  technology  video  vcrs  temporary  ephemeral  ephemerality  making  howwework  howwemake  journals  email  everyday 
6 weeks ago by robertogreco
Making the Ordinary Visible: Interview with Yasar Adanali : Making Futures
"Yaşar Adanalı defines his work over the past decade as being that of a “part time academic researcher and part time activist”. He is one of the founders of the Center for Spatial Justice in Istanbul, an urban institute that focuses on issues of spatial justice in Istanbul and beyond. In this interview, he reflects upon “continuance” as a tool of engagement, the power of attending to the ordinary within the production of space, and the different types of public that this works seeks to address.

What led to the founding of the Center for Spatial for Justice and how does its work relate to the worlds of academia, activism and urbanism?

I’m interested in questions regarding spatial production in general and more specifically justice – the injustices that derive from spatial processes or the spatial aspect of social injustices. The Center for Spatial Justice takes the acronym MAD in Turkish – a MAD organisation against mad projects, that’s our founding moto. We bring together people from different disciplines such as architects, urban planners, artists, journalists, filmmakers, lawyers and geographers to produce work in relation to what’s going here: grassroots struggles in the city and in the countryside. The Center for Spatial Justice believes in the interconnectedness of urban and rural processes.

As educator and an activist, you work both within and outside an institutional setting. Have you been able to take the latter experience back into the academy and if so, what in particular? How do these two roles inform each other?

Since 2014 I have been teaching a masters design studio at TU Darmstadt. It’s a participatory planning course that both follows and supports a cooperative housing project in Düzce, Turkey, produced for and by the tenants who were badly affected by the 1999 earthquake. Over the course of the past five years, the master students have been developing a 4000 sq m housing project from scratch. The students from Darmstadt come to Istanbul as interns, working partly on the project. The result is a long-lasting relationship with the neighbourhoods in question and with the organisations we have been working with.

Apart from that, through MAD and Beyond Istanbul we develop summer and winter schools – non-academic experiences that similarly bridge the gap between the alternative universe and the mainstream universe. When you start to put critical questions into the minds of the students, these linger and they then take them back to the university, so their friends and professors also become exposed to that. We prefer to develop this approach outside of the university so that we are freed from bureaucracy and rigid structures but we keep it open to enrolled students and professors.

What are some particular strategies and methodologies that you adopt to engender this approach to urban practice? How do you involve local residents, for example?

That building of long-term relationships with communities is why we do a lot of walking. Our research questions are informed by the community and the site we arrive at – we do not predetermine hypotheses in advance. We remain in direct contact with different groups in the city and walk through these territories – with the neighbourhood association – not just once but every week. We listen to a lot of stories and record them. Oral histories are an important part of the ethnographic enquiry.

We also use mapping, a tool commonly used to exert power but that nature can be reversed. Through mapping we reclaim territories that have perhaps been “erased” – that is, transformed by injustice. We also map informal areas and then give those maps to the communities there because the way they appear on official plans often doesn’t reflect how things look on the ground. What looks like a carpark in the plan might be someone’s house; what’s represented as a commercial development might currently be a neighbourhood park or some other form of already existing social infrastructure.

In addition, we try to embed journalistic means within our academic interests, which is why we work with documentary journalists and photographers on each of our projects. We broadcast spatial justice news videos, in depth films that offer 8-10 minutes of reporting on a particular issue, giving it context and also pointing towards possible solutions. Solution journalism, which doesn’t just focus on crisis, is very important in the work we do.

As part of its work making spatial injustices visible, MAD publishes a wide range of materials. Which are the publics you try to communicate with through this?

Research has to be coupled with a conscious effort to communicate because you want to make change. We don’t want to make research for the sake of research or produce publications for the sake of publishing. We want to create those publics you allude to – and to influence them. We are addressing people involved in the discipline in its broadest sense: planners, architects, sociologists, activists, but perhaps most especially students who are interested in spatial issues, urban questions and environmental concerns. They are our main target. We want them to understand that their discipline has much more potential than what they are learning at university. I’m not saying the entire education system is wrong but there is much larger perspective beyond it and great potential for collaboration with other disciplines and engagement with different publics as well.

Another important public is the one directly involved with our work, i.e. the community that is being threatened by renewal projects. These groups are not only our public but also our patrons – we are obliged to be at their service and offer technical support, whether that’s recording a meeting with the mayor or analysing a plan together. Then there is the larger audience of broader society, who we hope to encourage to think of and engage with these issues of inequality and spatial justice.

I found an interesting quote on your webpage that says that the founding of MAD “is an invitation to understand the ordinary in an extraordinary global city context”. Can you talk a little about the urban context of Istanbul, Turkey and why the focus on the ordinary?

Everything about Istanbul is extraordinary: transformation, speed, scale. We are interested in making the ordinary visible because when we focus so much on the mega-projects, on the idea of the global city, then the rest of the city is made invisible. We look beyond the city centre – the façade – and beyond the mainstream, dominant discourse. This “ordinary” is the neighbourhood, nature and that which lies beyond the spectacle – other Turkish cities, for example. This approach can entail initiatives that range from historical urban gardening practices, working with informal neighbourhoods subject to eviction and relocation processes, or rural communities on the very eastern border currently threatened by new mine projects.

More specifically, today we live in an extraordinary state. The public arena is in a deep crisis and the democratic institutions and their processes do not really deserve our direct involvement right now. Having said that, there are different pockets within these systems, municipal authorities that operate differently, for example, and when we find these we work with them, but we remain realistic with regards to our limits. The “now” in Turkey has been lost in the sense that its relevance is not linked to the future beyond or to the next generation. That is a deep loss. But if you have the vision and the production means, if you set up a strong system, build the capacity first of yourself and then of the groups your work with, then when the right moment comes, all of these elements will flourish."
urban  urbanism  urbanplanning  cities  maps  mapping  neighborhoods  unschooling  deschooling  education  independence  lcproject  openstudioproject  justice  visibility  istanbul  turkey  ethnography  inquiry  erasure  injustice  infrastructure  socialinfrastructure  2018  rosariotalevi  speed  scale  transformation  walking  community  yasaradanali  space  placemaking  interconnectedness  interconnected  geography  interdisciplinary  crossdisciplinary  socialjustice  architecture  design  film  law  legal  filmmaking  journalism  rural  engagement 
11 weeks ago by robertogreco
The Spoils of Love - Believer Magazine
"In the warmer sections of the Tibetan Plateau and some tropical Asian forests, the Cordyceps—a type of fungus—grows and survives in a very unusual way. In the winter, its spores lodge into the bodies of an insect host, spreading into its digestive tract and later its head. As the spores mature, they take control of the infected body and begin re-modulating its brain activity. By the spring, when the fungus has reached maturity, the hosting body is all but a shell, obedient, docile, inert, available as a food supply, fully colonized.

The slowness of the process belies its violence. By snatching the body first, then altering its vital functions, its perception of the world, the fungus turns the host into a mere receptacle for the younger spores which will then spread and disseminate in their turn. Violent as it may be, however, the cycle is somewhat painless. It realizes itself by keeping the host alive, plunging it into disorientation and confusion and, ultimately, a slow erasure.

Early on in his life, Mexican film director Alfonso Cuarón wanted to become a pilot or an astronaut. In more ways than one, he has succeeded with his latest project, Roma. In the film, produced by Netflix with limited theatrical release, Cuarón becomes the pilot of his former nanny’s gaze. The quasi-autobiography of the director’s childhood during the year his father left the family is rendered through the eyes of Cleo, a teenage Mixtec woman charged with the children’s care. Cleo’s character is based on Liboria “Libo” Rodríguez, an indigenous woman who in 1962, at 17 or 18 years of age, joined the Cuarón family as a full-time nanny. The “Roma” of the title is a reference to “Colonia Roma,” the upper-class Mexico City neighborhood where Cuarón’s family lived during the sixties and seventies.

“When Cuarón started the filmmaking process,” reads a lengthy cover feature on the Mexican director in a recent issue of Variety magazine, “there were three elemental aspects that came to him that he refused to question: Roma would be centered on Rodríguez; it would be taken from his own memories; and it would be filmed in black and white.”

Cuarón made the decision to lead his film with an indigenous woman. It is an important one: non-white, non-Western protagonists are a rare presence in Hollywood. But what was the need to impose his gaze, his own memories, on her? When Cuarón decided to show Roma as a referential film, close to an autobiography, he was making a narrative choice. But when he imposed his gaze on an indigenous, migrant woman, his choice became both moral and political.

Cleo’s perspective, Roma viewers may expect, should line up with that of a 17-year-old Mixtec migrant. Newly arrived in Mexico City from her native Tepelmeme, she enters the urban labor market the only way she can: as an invisible domestic worker. As the West and its cities push out into rural, indigenous land, displacing its communities, indigenous people start moving into urban centers. But their visibility as ambulant workers creates conflicts with authorities, which is why most of them end up working for cheap in upper class households, Séverine Durine and Rebeca Moreno Zúñiga discuss in their 2008 study of the migratory flows into Monterrey. As a statistical perversity of Mexico in the 1970s, most of the indigenous speaking population thus becomes concentrated in the wealthier areas of the wealthiest cities."



"Through his nanny’s eyes, Cuarón presents Cleo and Sofía as parallels and equivalents in their womanhood. The loss of Sofía’s marriage due to her husband’s betrayal and the miscarriage of Cleo’s baby bring the two women closer, as they share the care and upbringing of Sofía’s children. What Cuarón’s device conceals is the dispossession and suffering that has been imposed on the native Mixtec woman, deterritorialized in a city two hundred miles away from her home, family and potential partners. Mixtec indigenous people built Mexico City’s subway system in the sixties and seventies, and were part of the Bracero program, which shared day laborers across the U.S. border. They were the most important migrants among the indigenous communities in Mexico, and ranked also among the poorest and the most discriminated against. To this day, the percentage of indigenous people who live in poverty in Mexico is nearly double that of the general population, according to the National Council for the Evaluation of Social Development Policy (CONEVAL)—76.8 percent versus 43 percent, respectively. In the film, we hear that Cleo’s mother is about to lose her land to developers encroaching on her town. But pregnant Cleo decides not to visit her mother because “she wouldn’t understand.” We are told that Cleo’s mother considers her daughter a traitor, but neither that accusation of betrayal against the Mixtec nation and her community, nor the reasons for her own migration, find space in Cuarón’s imposed gaze.

Narratively there is nothing wrong with a director investing a character with his or her own point of view. It is, however, disingenuous to vest a character with a point of view while obscuring the process through which that gaze was construed. And it is plainly dishonest to present as a testimonio a mostly hegemonic, Western, colonial point of view, as representative of an oppressed, indigenous, female minority. Indigenous women in Mexico’s seventies were forced into semi-slavery in urban homes by the same white, upper and upper-middle classes who were also forcing the indigenous people out of their land. In Roma, however, Cuarón’s memories are conflated with the partial recollections he elicits from his former nanny, a conflation that allows the class and racial struggles in the original context to not only recede into the background, but to be actively replaced by a new, positive narrative that says more about the white family than about the central character. Cleo is, ultimately, a whitewashing device.

Roma, the shell, is extraordinarily beautiful. Black and white, smooth and elegant. Gleaming with natural light, airliners in flight reflected in water puddles, forest fires and lavish Christmas dinners. Sofía’s family is also beautiful and likable, just like Cuarón may remember his own. But brimming with an emotion that is dislocated from its true source (dispossession, poverty, oppression, colonialism) and reattached to a new spurious one (the love for her white employers), Cleo’s point of view becomes alien and, as such, disturbing. In order to make the tensions in Cuarón’s childhood more tolerable, and the colonial process less evident, “Roma” must present “indigenous” while showing a portion of Mexican history from a neutral, apolitical perspective.

Roma can pass as a beautiful story about Cuaron’s nanny, but only to those who relate to his upbringing or to those characters who embody the family’s American land-owning friends and equals. For most other Latin Americans, Roma is a horror film, a muzzle, which resonates close to Jordan Peele’s Get Out. Sofia is the Mexican incarnation of Missy Armitage, Get Out’s head hypnotizer. But for Cleo, there is no hope of getting out, as confirmed by the film’s unhappy conclusion.

To Cuarón’s credit, he’s an impeccable strategist. The same skill that helped him successfully negotiate an unprecedented theatrical release with Netflix and that has already garnered his low-budget art film Oscar buzz, has also allowed him to dazzle some American critics and audiences who are sophisticated enough to know the differences between an L, a G a B, a T and a Q, but still can’t distinguish between working class and elite Latin Americans, indigenous or not.

Roma spelled backward is “amor,” Spanish for love. Cuarón’s film may be based on the same building blocks of love but, as mirror image, it can certainly leave transposed emotions."
alfonsocuarón  2018  roma  film  filmmaking  inequality  malegaze  pablocalvi  perspective  storytelling 
11 weeks ago by robertogreco
Hay que reconciliar al cine mexicano con su público: Fernanda Solórzano - El Sol de México
"ENCONTRAR VIRTUD EN LO COMPLEJO

Otro tema que para ella es importante a la hora de dignificar las películas que se hacen aquí es revisar la idea de que el cine es sólo una forma de entretenimiento, útil nada más para el escapismo y la evasión, sin dar oportunidad a las producciones que no tienen un mensaje cerrado y que apelan a que el espectador abra su inteligencia a distintas posibilidades de mensaje.

“A mí me gustaría que en las escuelas mismas se promoviera entre los niños la idea de que no todos tenemos que entender de inmediato los relatos sino que entre más preguntas puedan provocar más pueden enriquecer. Que seas capaz de salir de una película y la puedas comentar con alguien que quizá tenga un punto de vista distinto al tuyo, justamente porque no se les dio un mensaje definido…”

Reconoce que es un trabajo lento y que puede durar varias generaciones, pero que no hay nada como encontrarle virtud a lo complejo y entender que una película que te permite tener varias lecturas puede resultarte quizá más satisfactoria que una que no va a permitir que alguien te cambie tu propio punto de vista.

Y remarca: “El cine que más disfruto es el que me saca de mis certezas; el que me hace pensar y repensar mi realidad. Me choca darme cuenta de que me están manipulando. Me gusta que confíen en mi inteligencia. A mí me gusta que los directores también confíen en la inteligencia del público y el público en su propia inteligencia”.

LA COMEDIA ROMÁNTICA

Y de todo ese panorama destaca algo con lo que no está de acuerdo, la temática con la que se están haciendo algunas comedias mexicanas actuales, ya que le parece que refuerzan valores a los que como sociedad estamos tratando de oponernos, como el machismo o la homofobia, y que en este género suelen ser abordados como algo gracioso y normal.

“Voy a poner como ejemplo la cinta Qué culpa tiene el niño, cuya historia versa sobre una chica que en una fiesta queda embarazada, no sabe de quién porque estaba alcoholizada y entonces eso es presentado como chistoso, sin importar que es irresponsable que un hombre se aproveche de una mujer en esas condiciones”.

No ve que este tipo de producciones sean tan terribles y bajas como las sexy comedias de los años 80, donde los hombres literalmente violaban a las mujeres y nadie decía nada y todos se reían, pero asumen los mismos valores. “Obviamente son más sofisticadas estas comedias, son más pulidas, pero los chistes son los mismos, apelan al mismo tipo de moral, lo que me parece triste”.

LA ERA DIGITAL

Con respecto a los nuevos formatos de filmación y las modalidades de exhibición más allá de las salas cinematográficas, Fernanda percibe que ciertamente plantean nuevos problemas estéticos y económicos, lo cual también puede ser una oportunidad para que se abaraten las posibilidades de acceso para producir cine a quien actualmente no tiene los recursos para hacerlo.

“Al final lo importante es contar bien una historia y hacerlo estéticamente. Incluso hay historias que se pueden contar mejor en uno u otro formato. Por ejemplo, hay un director que filmó su primera película en iPhone, Tangerine, de Sean Baker, que fue muy premiada, y después decidió que su segunda producción se hiciera en 35 mm porque consideró que esa cinta no aguantaba lo digital y requería cierta profundidad. O sea hay narrativas para todo tipo de formato”.

Sobre el formato de miniseries, predominante en los servicios de streaming on line, la crítica de cine también los califica de oportunidad interesante. “A mí me gustan muchísimo, yo no las veo como un producto menor. Creo que muchos directores de cine, ante la imposibilidad de tener un presupuesto tan alto, están experimentando. Y pongo cono ejemplo la serie Un extraño enemigo de Gabriel Ripstein, que me pareció muy buena, bien contada, bien narrada y muy acentuada, a pesar de que era muy difícil que una serie más sobre el 68 tuviera impacto”."
fernandasolórzano  conemexicano  education  schools  stories  film  filmmaking  storytelling  linearity  ambiguity  certainty  complexity  howwethink  conversation  interviews  race  racism  homophobia  digital  2018  literature  children  medialiteracy  literacy  teaching  howweteach  unschooling  deschooling  criticalthinking 
december 2018 by robertogreco
Director Andrea Arnold on the cross-country party that produced American Honey | The Verge
"How did you end up with the 4:3 aspect ratio?

It's an artistic decision. I've done my last three films with the same ratio. It's a ratio I much love. My films are usually about one person and their experiences of the world. So I'm mainly following them around, filming them quite closely. And it's a very beautiful frame for one person. It frames them with a huge amount of respect. It gives them kind of honors, the human in that frame. I was very attracted to it when I first started making films, but I wasn't able to articulate it and understand why I was doing it until later. But now I understand, that respect is what it's about."
4:3  aspectratio  andreaarnold  2016  film  framing  srg  filmmaking  focus 
october 2018 by robertogreco
Carol Black on Twitter: "I'm sorry, but this is delusional. If you don't read the book the first time for rhythm and flow, just *read* it, you haven't read the book. You have dissected it. This is like the vivisection of literature. There is no author ali
"I'm sorry, but this is delusional. If you don't read the book the first time for rhythm and flow, just *read* it, you haven't read the book. You have dissected it. This is like the vivisection of literature. There is no author alive who would want their book read this way."



"Look, the reality is that most people do not want to analyze literature. It's a specialty interest, a niche thing. There is absolutely no reason all people should have to do this. By forcing it we just create an aversion to books.

[@SOLEatHome "Would you consider someone re-reading a book they love and noticing things they missed the first time analysis? It at least fits what has come to be known as "close reading""]

Kids who become writers (or filmmakers, or musicians) re-read, re-watch, re-listen to their favorite things repetitively, obsessively. They internalize structure, rhythm, characterization, language, vocabulary, dialogue, intuitively, instinctively.

Close reading & analysis is a separate activity, it requires a whole different stance / attitude toward the book. It can enhance this deeper intuitive understanding or it can shut it down, turn it into something mechanical & disengaged.

I think it's a huge mistake to push this analytical stance on children when they are too young. I was an English major, & I don't think I benefited from it until college. Younger kids should just find things they love & process them in ways that make sense to them.

This is one of the many delusional things about the way literature is taught in HS. The reality is you have to read a book at the *bare minimum* twice in order to do meaningful analysis. But there is never time for this. So we just club the thing to death on the first reading.

One of the principal things a writer does is to work incredibly hard at refining the way one sentence flows into the next, one chapter springboards off the last. To experience this as a reader you have to immerse yourself, turn off the analytical brain, just *read* the damn book.

To insert analysis into this process on a first reading is like watching a film by pausing every couple of minutes to make notes before continuing. It's fine to do that in later study, but if you do it the first time through you've destroyed everything the filmmaker worked for."

[@irasocol: How a teacher destroys not just reading but culture. Can we let kids experience an author's work without dissection? How I tried to address this in 2012... http://speedchange.blogspot.com/2012/11/why-do-we-read-why-do-we-write.html "]



[This was in repsonse to a thread that began with:
https://twitter.com/SOLEatHome/status/1053338882496958465

"This thread details a real school assignment that was asked of a high school student to do while reading a book they hadn't read before. I assure you this is is not something isolated to one school:

Annotate.

Inside front cover: major character with space for...

...character summaries, page reference for key scenes or moments of character development. Evidently these are enormous books.

Inside Back Cover: list of themes, allusions, images, motifs, key scenes, plot line, epiphanies, etc. Add pg. references or notes. List vocab words...

...if there's still room. (big books or small writing?)

Start of each chapter: do a quick summary of the chapter. Title each chapter as soon as you finish it, esp. if the chapters don't have titles.

Top margins: plot notes/words phrases that summarize. Then go back...

...and mark the chapter carefully (more on these marks to come)

Bottom and side margins: interpretive notes, questions, remarks that refer to the meaning of the page (???). Notes to tie in w/ notes on inside back cover

Header: Interpretive notes and symbols to be used...

...underline or highlight key words, phrases, sentences that are important to understanding the work
questions/comments in the margins--your conversation with the text
bracket important ideas/passages
use vertical lines at the margin to emphasize what's been already marked...

...connect ideas with lines or arrows
use numbers in the margin to indicate the sequence of points the author makes in developing a single argument
use a star, asterisk, or other doo-dad at the margin--use a consistent symbol--(presumably to not mix up your doo-dads?) to...

...be used sparingly to emphasize the ten or twenty most important statements in the book.
Use ???for sections/ideas you don't understand
circle words you don't know. Define them in the margins (How many margins does a page have?)
A checkmark means "I understand"...

...use !!! when you come across something new, interesting or surprising
And other literary devices (see below)

You may want to mark:
Use and S for Symbols: a symbol is a literal thing that stands for something else which help to discover new layers of thinking...

Use an I for Imagery, which includes words that appeal to the five senses. Imagery is important for understanding an authors message and attitudes
Use an F for Figurative Language like similes, metaphors, etc., which often reveal deeper layers of meaning...

Use a T for Tone, which is the overall mood of the piece. Tone can carry as much meaning as the plot does.
Use a Th for Theme: timeless universal ideas or a message about life, society, etc.
Plot elements (setting, mood, conflict)
Diction (word choice)

The end. ::sighs::"]
carolblack  irasocol  howweread  reading  literature  closereading  2018  school  schooliness  education  absurdity  literaryanalysis  writers  writing  howwewrite  filmmaking  howwelearn  academia  academics  schools  unschooling  deschooling  analysis  understanding  repetition  experience  structure  rhythm  characterization  language  vocabulary  dialogue  noticing  intuition  instinct  film  flow 
october 2018 by robertogreco
How to Use Aspect Ratio as a Creative Tool; Rediscover the Value of 4:3
"The Academy Ratio, or 4:3 aspect ratio was the standard in the early days of cinema and television today we look at why contemporary filmmakers are returning to it today."

[video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ct9C3pMm9mc ]



"4:3 Aspect Ration Can Help Focus on Character"



"Those 4:3 Aspect Ratio Aesthetics

Canvases of different sizes and shapes are able to communicate differently with those that view them; film is no different. While widescreen formats give filmmakers a chance to supercharge the aesthetics of horizontal lines, 4:3 aspect ratio does the opposite. Instead of capturing sweeping landscapes, the square aspect ratio draws our eyes to verticle lines, characters' bodies, and faces. This allows you to, again, focus on your characters in a narrative sense, but it also allows you to capture the beautiful, evocative landscape of the human face to a degree you don't really achieve with widescreen.

Using Aspect Ratio to Evoke Emotions
If you grew up watching primarily widescreen content, both on the big screen and on TV (and on the internet), then this format can feel...a bit odd. 4:3 aspect ratio is boxy. Many would say it's stifling, claustrophobic, and makes them feel as though they're trapped or confined. This can be used to your benefit when making a film, especially if you want to create more tension because the square frame literally leaves your subject with "nowhere to run."

There isn't an empty right or left third of the frame for them to see an escape route. It's just them, there, filling up the entire frame and unaware of what dangers and horrible things lurk just beyond its borders.

Choose an Aspect Ratio That Will Stand Out

Though the 4:3 aspect ratio has made a resurgence in recent years, it's still relatively rare to see—even in independent films and especially in Hollywood films. So, if you want your film to stand out from the crowd, using 4:3 will definitely help you accomplish that.

The Big Picture on Aspect Ratio

Let's all say this together: there is no such thing as "the perfect aspect ratio." Formats must be chosen based solely on the unique needs of a film, so don't think I'm bashing widescreen while putting 4:3 apect ratio up on a pedestal. I'm totally not. All I'm saying is that there are so many cool things aspect ratios alone can do to make your film an even better experience for your audience, and hopefully, now you have a better idea of what those things are and how you can implement them in your future projects. "
film  aspectratio  4:3  video  cinematography  filmmaking 
october 2018 by robertogreco
“Minding the Gap,” Reviewed: A Self-Questioning Documentary About What Happened to a Group of Young Skaters | The New Yorker
[Carol Black: https://twitter.com/cblack__/status/1052995478583836672

2-step lesson for teachers:

1. Watch this documentary about the kids who will NEVER adapt well to authoritarian environments like school. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5Vm_Awe3bw

2. Read how this skater kid learned to make brilliant films through self-directed learning, mentorships, discovery.

Through a slow process of experimentation, improvisation, exploration, director Bing Liu evolved from a skater kid with a video camera into a deep, accomplished filmmaker. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-front-row/minding-the-gap-reviewed-a-self-questioning-documentary-about-what-happened-to-a-group-of-young-skaters
As a teen-ager, a decade ago, in the small city of Rockford, Illinois, Bing Liu filmed himself and his friends skateboarding. He shot much of his footage while skating alongside them, and, as a result, the skating sequences of his documentary “Minding the Gap” (which opens today in theatres and streams on Hulu) have a surging, gliding, soaring, joyously speedy energy that offers a hypnotic whirl and rush. Those images of skating, however, are merely the background and context for the film, and the diverting thrill that they offer is crucial to the film’s substance. That substance—domestic trauma, systemic racism, and economic dislocation—is also the very stuff of society, and the near-at-hand intimacy gives rise to a film of vast scope and political depth.

Allowing his film to unfold over years of shooting and editing and re-editing, Liu uncovered the hidden depth and dimension in his subject matter.
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-front-row/minding-the-gap-reviewed-a-self-questioning-documentary-about-what-happened-to-a-group-of-young-skaters
“Minding the Gap” builds Liu’s investigations, and the personal and ethical considerations that they entail, into the film. What he discovers—and films—of his friends’ present-day lives disturbs him, and Liu grapples with his own conflicts even while filming himself grappling with them. The details of the film make for an exemplary work of reporting. Liu’s clear revelation of specific yet complex events brings out psychological causality and logical connections but doesn’t impose a narrative; rather, the drama crystallizes as the events unfold. It’s a documentary in which the very nature of investigation is established—intellectually, aesthetically, and morally—by way of the personal implication of the filmmaker in the subject, of the filmmaker’s own need to make the images, to talk with the participants, to get beyond the surfaces of the settings. “Minding the Gap” is a personal documentary of the highest sort, in which the film’s necessity to the filmmaker—and its obstacles, its resistances, its emotional and moral demands on him—are part of its very existence.

Learning technical skills from online forums and by emulating filmmakers who inspired him, Liu was then able to allow the personal, emotional story to emerge. https://filmmakermagazine.com/105737-i-had-a-moral-crisis-bing-liu-on-minding-the-gap-personal-doc-voiceovers-and-cycles-of-abuse/#.W8i8by-ZMWo
Filmmaker: I had seen part of a cut that you had about a year ago. What I remember is, there was a lot more voiceover and the structure was different. There was a scene in the first ten minutes where you’re going to meet your mom to do the interview about you being abused by your stepfather, and you’re being interviewed in the car on the way: “So how do you feel about this?” At a certain point, obviously a lot of those things changed. Documentary editing processes are inherently long and complicated, but I’d love it if you could talk about thinking through some of those changes.

Liu: I didn’t begin the film wanting to be in the film. My background is, I got a camera to make videos when I was 14. I watched movies that inspired me, like Waking Life, Kids and Gummo. Some of my first shorts when I was a teen were this sort of Slacker plot where I follow people around Rockford as they interact with each other. The structure is based off of hand-offs, to give you a slice of community and the people in it. Anyway, I learned cinematography and editing through going to forums. There’s this website called Skate Perception that was kind of the Reddit for skate media makers all over the country. This was in the 2000s, when the internet was still finding its identity in many ways. It no longer exists; forums aren’t really a thing, for the most part.

“I didn’t go to film school, because everybody that I worked with in film was like: if you go to school, don’t go to school for film.” https://nofilmschool.com/2018/08/minding-gap-bing-liu-interview
NFS: How did you develop your unconventional aesthetics over time, starting from such a young age?

Liu: It was a mix of just emulating other creators and films that I was watching and also just going online and learning. By the time I was 16, I had a camera that I could set exposure and color temperature and with ND filters on it. By the time I was 17, I had a 24p camera and I was building my own dollies, so it was sort of just like exploring and emulation of what was happening at the time, which was a mix of the internet connecting more people, and also the DIY-style filmmaking that was growing with the advent of DSLR shooting video. I never really saw a career in film as a viable thing. I thought making films was just what I did.
"The Glidecam was freeing because you can run down stairs when you get good enough at it, and even jump over things with the cameras."

NFS: How did you transition to realizing that you could actually do this professionally?

Liu: It was when I got a job as a PA when I was 19 and I was like, “Oh, I can get paid $50 a day to like fetch coffee and carry heavy camera cases around for 14 hours.” It was less about the $50 and more about the “Oh, you can do this.”

NFS: That's what we're always telling people who want to break into the business: just get on set.

Liu: Yeah, I didn't go to film school, because everybody that I worked with in film was like: if you go to school. don't go to school for film, and so I went to school for literature.
]
bingliu  mindingthegap  film  filmmaking  documentary  srg  unschooling  deschooling  authority  authoritarianism  school  schooling  schools  learning  skating  skateboarding  self-directed  self-directedlearning  howwelearn  canon  video  domesticviolence  2018  carolblack  teaching  howweteach  schooliness  online  internet  web  domestictrauma  economics  rustbelt  society  childabuse  children  teens  youth  streetculture  illinois  rockford  friendship  parenting  dropouts  aesthetics  filmschool  emulation  cinematography 
october 2018 by robertogreco
'Minding the Gap': How Bing Liu Turned 12 Years of Skate Footage into the Year's Most Heartfelt Doc
[Carol Black: https://twitter.com/cblack__/status/1052995478583836672

2-step lesson for teachers:

1. Watch this documentary about the kids who will NEVER adapt well to authoritarian environments like school. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5Vm_Awe3bw

2. Read how this skater kid learned to make brilliant films through self-directed learning, mentorships, discovery.

Through a slow process of experimentation, improvisation, exploration, director Bing Liu evolved from a skater kid with a video camera into a deep, accomplished filmmaker. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-front-row/minding-the-gap-reviewed-a-self-questioning-documentary-about-what-happened-to-a-group-of-young-skaters
As a teen-ager, a decade ago, in the small city of Rockford, Illinois, Bing Liu filmed himself and his friends skateboarding. He shot much of his footage while skating alongside them, and, as a result, the skating sequences of his documentary “Minding the Gap” (which opens today in theatres and streams on Hulu) have a surging, gliding, soaring, joyously speedy energy that offers a hypnotic whirl and rush. Those images of skating, however, are merely the background and context for the film, and the diverting thrill that they offer is crucial to the film’s substance. That substance—domestic trauma, systemic racism, and economic dislocation—is also the very stuff of society, and the near-at-hand intimacy gives rise to a film of vast scope and political depth.

Allowing his film to unfold over years of shooting and editing and re-editing, Liu uncovered the hidden depth and dimension in his subject matter.
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-front-row/minding-the-gap-reviewed-a-self-questioning-documentary-about-what-happened-to-a-group-of-young-skaters
“Minding the Gap” builds Liu’s investigations, and the personal and ethical considerations that they entail, into the film. What he discovers—and films—of his friends’ present-day lives disturbs him, and Liu grapples with his own conflicts even while filming himself grappling with them. The details of the film make for an exemplary work of reporting. Liu’s clear revelation of specific yet complex events brings out psychological causality and logical connections but doesn’t impose a narrative; rather, the drama crystallizes as the events unfold. It’s a documentary in which the very nature of investigation is established—intellectually, aesthetically, and morally—by way of the personal implication of the filmmaker in the subject, of the filmmaker’s own need to make the images, to talk with the participants, to get beyond the surfaces of the settings. “Minding the Gap” is a personal documentary of the highest sort, in which the film’s necessity to the filmmaker—and its obstacles, its resistances, its emotional and moral demands on him—are part of its very existence.

Learning technical skills from online forums and by emulating filmmakers who inspired him, Liu was then able to allow the personal, emotional story to emerge. https://filmmakermagazine.com/105737-i-had-a-moral-crisis-bing-liu-on-minding-the-gap-personal-doc-voiceovers-and-cycles-of-abuse/#.W8i8by-ZMWo
Filmmaker: I had seen part of a cut that you had about a year ago. What I remember is, there was a lot more voiceover and the structure was different. There was a scene in the first ten minutes where you’re going to meet your mom to do the interview about you being abused by your stepfather, and you’re being interviewed in the car on the way: “So how do you feel about this?” At a certain point, obviously a lot of those things changed. Documentary editing processes are inherently long and complicated, but I’d love it if you could talk about thinking through some of those changes.

Liu: I didn’t begin the film wanting to be in the film. My background is, I got a camera to make videos when I was 14. I watched movies that inspired me, like Waking Life, Kids and Gummo. Some of my first shorts when I was a teen were this sort of Slacker plot where I follow people around Rockford as they interact with each other. The structure is based off of hand-offs, to give you a slice of community and the people in it. Anyway, I learned cinematography and editing through going to forums. There’s this website called Skate Perception that was kind of the Reddit for skate media makers all over the country. This was in the 2000s, when the internet was still finding its identity in many ways. It no longer exists; forums aren’t really a thing, for the most part.

“I didn’t go to film school, because everybody that I worked with in film was like: if you go to school, don’t go to school for film.” https://nofilmschool.com/2018/08/minding-gap-bing-liu-interview
NFS: How did you develop your unconventional aesthetics over time, starting from such a young age?

Liu: It was a mix of just emulating other creators and films that I was watching and also just going online and learning. By the time I was 16, I had a camera that I could set exposure and color temperature and with ND filters on it. By the time I was 17, I had a 24p camera and I was building my own dollies, so it was sort of just like exploring and emulation of what was happening at the time, which was a mix of the internet connecting more people, and also the DIY-style filmmaking that was growing with the advent of DSLR shooting video. I never really saw a career in film as a viable thing. I thought making films was just what I did.
"The Glidecam was freeing because you can run down stairs when you get good enough at it, and even jump over things with the cameras."

NFS: How did you transition to realizing that you could actually do this professionally?

Liu: It was when I got a job as a PA when I was 19 and I was like, “Oh, I can get paid $50 a day to like fetch coffee and carry heavy camera cases around for 14 hours.” It was less about the $50 and more about the “Oh, you can do this.”

NFS: That's what we're always telling people who want to break into the business: just get on set.

Liu: Yeah, I didn't go to film school, because everybody that I worked with in film was like: if you go to school. don't go to school for film, and so I went to school for literature.
]
bingliu  mindingthegap  film  filmmaking  documentary  srg  unschooling  deschooling  authority  authoritarianism  school  schooling  schools  learning  skating  skateboarding  self-directed  self-directedlearning  howwelearn  canon  video  domesticviolence  2018  carolblack  teaching  howweteach  schooliness  online  internet  webapps  domestictrauma  economics  rustbelt  society  childabuse  children  teens  youth  streetculture  illinois  rockford  friendship  parenting  dropouts  aesthetics  filmschool  emulation  cinematography 
october 2018 by robertogreco
“I Had a Moral Crisis”: Bing Liu on Minding the Gap, Personal Doc Voiceovers and Cycles of Abuse | Filmmaker Magazine
[Carol Black: https://twitter.com/cblack__/status/1052995478583836672

2-step lesson for teachers:

1. Watch this documentary about the kids who will NEVER adapt well to authoritarian environments like school. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n5Vm_Awe3bw

2. Read how this skater kid learned to make brilliant films through self-directed learning, mentorships, discovery.

Through a slow process of experimentation, improvisation, exploration, director Bing Liu evolved from a skater kid with a video camera into a deep, accomplished filmmaker. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-front-row/minding-the-gap-reviewed-a-self-questioning-documentary-about-what-happened-to-a-group-of-young-skaters
As a teen-ager, a decade ago, in the small city of Rockford, Illinois, Bing Liu filmed himself and his friends skateboarding. He shot much of his footage while skating alongside them, and, as a result, the skating sequences of his documentary “Minding the Gap” (which opens today in theatres and streams on Hulu) have a surging, gliding, soaring, joyously speedy energy that offers a hypnotic whirl and rush. Those images of skating, however, are merely the background and context for the film, and the diverting thrill that they offer is crucial to the film’s substance. That substance—domestic trauma, systemic racism, and economic dislocation—is also the very stuff of society, and the near-at-hand intimacy gives rise to a film of vast scope and political depth.

Allowing his film to unfold over years of shooting and editing and re-editing, Liu uncovered the hidden depth and dimension in his subject matter.
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-front-row/minding-the-gap-reviewed-a-self-questioning-documentary-about-what-happened-to-a-group-of-young-skaters
“Minding the Gap” builds Liu’s investigations, and the personal and ethical considerations that they entail, into the film. What he discovers—and films—of his friends’ present-day lives disturbs him, and Liu grapples with his own conflicts even while filming himself grappling with them. The details of the film make for an exemplary work of reporting. Liu’s clear revelation of specific yet complex events brings out psychological causality and logical connections but doesn’t impose a narrative; rather, the drama crystallizes as the events unfold. It’s a documentary in which the very nature of investigation is established—intellectually, aesthetically, and morally—by way of the personal implication of the filmmaker in the subject, of the filmmaker’s own need to make the images, to talk with the participants, to get beyond the surfaces of the settings. “Minding the Gap” is a personal documentary of the highest sort, in which the film’s necessity to the filmmaker—and its obstacles, its resistances, its emotional and moral demands on him—are part of its very existence.

Learning technical skills from online forums and by emulating filmmakers who inspired him, Liu was then able to allow the personal, emotional story to emerge. https://filmmakermagazine.com/105737-i-had-a-moral-crisis-bing-liu-on-minding-the-gap-personal-doc-voiceovers-and-cycles-of-abuse/#.W8i8by-ZMWo
Filmmaker: I had seen part of a cut that you had about a year ago. What I remember is, there was a lot more voiceover and the structure was different. There was a scene in the first ten minutes where you’re going to meet your mom to do the interview about you being abused by your stepfather, and you’re being interviewed in the car on the way: “So how do you feel about this?” At a certain point, obviously a lot of those things changed. Documentary editing processes are inherently long and complicated, but I’d love it if you could talk about thinking through some of those changes.

Liu: I didn’t begin the film wanting to be in the film. My background is, I got a camera to make videos when I was 14. I watched movies that inspired me, like Waking Life, Kids and Gummo. Some of my first shorts when I was a teen were this sort of Slacker plot where I follow people around Rockford as they interact with each other. The structure is based off of hand-offs, to give you a slice of community and the people in it. Anyway, I learned cinematography and editing through going to forums. There’s this website called Skate Perception that was kind of the Reddit for skate media makers all over the country. This was in the 2000s, when the internet was still finding its identity in many ways. It no longer exists; forums aren’t really a thing, for the most part.

“I didn’t go to film school, because everybody that I worked with in film was like: if you go to school, don’t go to school for film.” https://nofilmschool.com/2018/08/minding-gap-bing-liu-interview
NFS: How did you develop your unconventional aesthetics over time, starting from such a young age?

Liu: It was a mix of just emulating other creators and films that I was watching and also just going online and learning. By the time I was 16, I had a camera that I could set exposure and color temperature and with ND filters on it. By the time I was 17, I had a 24p camera and I was building my own dollies, so it was sort of just like exploring and emulation of what was happening at the time, which was a mix of the internet connecting more people, and also the DIY-style filmmaking that was growing with the advent of DSLR shooting video. I never really saw a career in film as a viable thing. I thought making films was just what I did.
"The Glidecam was freeing because you can run down stairs when you get good enough at it, and even jump over things with the cameras."

NFS: How did you transition to realizing that you could actually do this professionally?

Liu: It was when I got a job as a PA when I was 19 and I was like, “Oh, I can get paid $50 a day to like fetch coffee and carry heavy camera cases around for 14 hours.” It was less about the $50 and more about the “Oh, you can do this.”

NFS: That's what we're always telling people who want to break into the business: just get on set.

Liu: Yeah, I didn't go to film school, because everybody that I worked with in film was like: if you go to school. don't go to school for film, and so I went to school for literature.
]
bingliu  mindingthegap  film  filmmaking  documentary  srg  unschooling  deschooling  authority  authoritarianism  school  schooling  schools  learning  skating  skateboarding  self-directed  self-directedlearning  howwelearn  canon  video  domesticviolence  2018  carolblack  teaching  howweteach  schooliness  online  internet  web  domestictrauma  economics  rustbelt  society  childabuse  children  teens  youth  streetculture  illinois  rockford  friendship  parenting  dropouts  aesthetics  filmschool  emulation  cinematography 
october 2018 by robertogreco
Scratching the Surface — 86. Anab Jain
"Anab Jain is a designer, futurist, filmmaker and educator. As Co-founder and Director of Superflux, she hopes to realise the vision of the Studio as a new kind of design practice, responsive to the challenges and opportunities of the twenty-first century. She also teaches at the University Applied Arts in Vienna and gave a TED Talk last year on design’s role in imagining new futures. In this episode, Anab and I talk about Superflux’s blend of client and speculative work, her background in filmmaking, and pushing up against disciplinary boundaries."
anabjain  jarrettfuller  2018  jamescscott  simonedebeauvoir  superfluc  speculativefiction  speculativedesign  design  andreitarkovsky  film  filmmaking  education  teaching  transdisciplinary  crossdisciplinary  jean-lucgodard  criticaldesign  designeducation  kellereasterling  infrastructure  lcproject  openstudioproject  camerontonkinwise  scratchingthesurface 
august 2018 by robertogreco
Véréna Paravel and Lucien Castaing-Taylor - documenta 14
"Few filmmakers in recent years have managed to combine formal innovation with a programmatic stance toward filmmaking quite like Véréna Paravel and Lucien Castaing-Taylor. In the process of reinventing the relationship between their two fields of inquiry, anthropology and cinema, they have established an experimental laboratory and school at Harvard University, the Sensory Ethnography Lab. The films coming out of the lab take a decentered, nonanthropocentric approach to the visual practice of the moving image. Their camera does not focus primarily on humans as privileged actors in the world but rather on the fabric of affective relations among the natural elements, animals, technology, and our physical lifeworlds.

Their “nonnarrative epics” are meditative, trance-like journeys into unseen and alien aspects of our environments; they unearth a different order for the principles of knowledge and cinematographic language, one that is nonsignifying and nonhierarchical. Paravel and Castaing-Taylor’s Leviathan (2012), for instance, is a vertigo-inducing study of the human relationship to the sea, filmed by equipping a fishing boat with numerous cameras and devices. The decentering achieved in the film evokes mythologies of the sea, while also addressing urgent contemporary concerns regarding the place of the human in the cosmos and within a future ecology.

Paravel and Castaing-Taylor, born in 1971 in Neuchâtel, Switzerland, and in 1966, in Liverpool, respectively, are premiering two new film installations at documenta 14. In Somniloquies (2017), their camera moves over sleeping, unguarded naked bodies while a soundtrack relays the sleep talk, nocturnal speculations, and orated dreams of Dion McGregor, a gay American songwriter whose hallucinatory, salacious, and sadistic dreams were recorded by his New York roommate over a seven-year period in the 1960s. Their second installation focuses on the controversial figure of Issei Sagawa, who gained notoriety in 1981 when, as a graduate student in Paris, he murdered a fellow student and engaged in acts of cannibalism. After his release from a mental institution, Sagawa returned to Japan, and later appeared in innumerable documentaries and sexploitation films. In contrast to earlier journalistic documentaries on Sagawa, the film by Paravel and Castaing-Taylor suspends moral judgment and explores a realm that eludes classification as either “documentary” or “pure fiction,” to instead chart the ambiguous territory between crime, fantasy, and social realities, between an individual and the economy of his public persona. Theirs is a filmmaking that ultimately renders the elements of nature and culture …

—Hila Peleg"
vérénaparavel  luciencastaing-taylor  film  cinema  sensoryethnography  documenta14  hilapeleg  filmmaking  ethnography  anthropology  documentary  isseisagawa  sagawa  dionmcgregor  senses  visualethnography  somniloquies  narrative  nature  animals  multispecies  bodies  non-narrative  sensoryethnographylab  body 
may 2018 by robertogreco
Library Genesis: Anna Grimshaw - The Ethnographer's Eye: Ways of Seeing in Anthropology
"Grimshaw sets a new agenda for visual anthropology, attempting to transcend the old division between image and text-based ethnography. She argues for the use of vision as a critical tool with which anthropologists can address issues of knowledge and technique. The first part of the book critically examines anthropology's history, focusing on the work of key individuals--Rivers, Malinowski and Radcliffe-Brown--in the context of early modern art and cinema. In the book's second part, Grimshaw considers the anthropological films of Jean Rouch, David and Judith MacDougall and Melissa Llewelyn-Davies."
annagrimshaw  ethnography  visualanthropology  anthropology  jeanrouch  davidmacdougall  judithmacdougall  melissallewelyn-davies  cinema  film  filmmaking  seeing  waysofseeing  visualethnography  senses  sensoryethnography 
may 2018 by robertogreco
Love is the Message: An Evening with Arthur Jafa - YouTube
"Artist, director, and award-wining cinematographer Arthur Jafa has spent three decades creating dynamic, multidisciplinary work that challenges cultural identity and race politics with the power of music and film.

On the eve of the opening of “The Message: New Media Works,” and for the first time in a public forum, Jafa was joined by renowned jazz musician Steve Coleman to discuss the intersections of their practices over the last 30 years. Coleman is among a selection of musicians participating in Listening Session, an experimental performance series presented in conjunction with Jafa’s Serpentine Gallery exhibition, “A Series of Utterly Improbable, Yet Extraordinary Renditions.”

Jafa’s seminal video work “Love is the Message, The Message is Death,” is on view in “The Message,” Nov. 18, 2017- April 22, 2018.

Surprise performance by Kokayi"
arthurjafa  art  film  cinematography  2018  race  music  filmmaking  stevecoleman  jazz  wildworldofsports  wildkingdom  mutualofomaha'swildkingdom  memory  memories  practice  work  labor 
april 2018 by robertogreco
Metrograph Celebrates the Inventive Truth-Telling of St. Clair Bourne | Village Voice
"Let the Church is so free of form and spirit that, presented without context, it could easily be seen as a fictional piece. It is not clear how much the scenes are staged, or, indeed, whether they are staged at all. Right from the first interaction, in which what seems to be a religious teacher laboriously explains the purpose of a sermon, there is a distance with the people filmed (broken on occasion by extreme zooming and direct address), as well as a writtenness and theatricality in the dialogue that can be delightfully confusing. What one learns while watching Bourne is that there are many ways to enter a subject, and one mustn’t refrain from exploring them, especially not in the name of nonfiction convention."



"Bourne conveys the collective through the individual: What do these voices reveal of the state of mind of the subject, and how do they mirror that of an entire community?"



"There are individuals who have been burdened with what Frantz Fanon has described, in Black Skin White Masks, as the “colossal task to make an inventory of the real.” Fanon was of course one of them, and so was Bourne.

The task is even more herculean when the reality has been so intensely erased and distorted, including by the very medium in which Bourne decided to express himself. Hence the extreme sensitivity and curiosity that animates his body of work, which belongs — right next to the early literature of enslaved Africans, the films of Oscar Micheaux, the novels and essays of Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, and Zora Neale Hurston — on the shelves of every Black family, its images ornating the minds and memories of every Black child. Much like the Martinican psychiatrist did with philosophy, poetry, and psychoanalysis, St. Clair Bourne utilized the tools of television and cinema to uncover the multitudinous facts of Blackness — and to send his people many love letters."
fantasylla  2018  stclairbourne  film  documentary  blackness  filmmaking  frantzfanon  zoranealehurston  jamesbaldwin  tonimorrison  realism  dialogue  breakingform  form 
february 2018 by robertogreco
about — alsolikelife
[See also: https://vimeo.com/kevinblee ]

"Kevin B. Lee is a filmmaker and critic who has made over 300 video essays exploring film and media. 

His award-winning Transformers: The Premake was named one of the best documentaries of 2014 by Sight & Sound Magazine and played in several festivals including the Berlin Film Festival Critics Week. 

In 2017 he is the first-ever Artist in Residence of the Harun Farocki Institute in Berlin. 

He was named one of the Chicago New City Film 50 in 2013, 2014 and 2016.

He initiated Young Critics Programs at the 2015 Hawaii International Film Festival and the 2016 Cairo International Film Festival. 

He is Chief Video Essayist at Fandor, was supervising producer at Roger Ebert Presents At the Movies, and has written for The New York Times, Sight & Sound, Slate and Indiewire.

He teaches film and media studies at universities, including the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, the University of Illinois at Chicago, and the Goethe Universitat Frankfurt."

[via: https://tinyletter.com/jomc/letters/more-questions-from-the-hullchester-wine-mum-s-saturday-read-club ]
film  mediastudies  kevinblee  videoessays  video  filmmaking  srg 
december 2017 by robertogreco
Aaron Stewart-Ahn on Twitter: "Our media literacy about movies tends to prioritize text over subtext, emotion, and sound vision & time, and it has sadly sunk into audience… https://t.co/pdGb93PJqL"
"Our media literacy about movies tends to prioritize text over subtext, emotion, and sound vision & time, and it has sadly sunk into audiences' minds. I'd say some movies are even worth a handful of shots / sounds they build up to."

[in response to (the starred part of this thread):
https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/933796336683515904
https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/933797652914872321
https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/933798079618105345
https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/933798628635709440
https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/933800708960174080 [****]
https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/933801838733701121
https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/933802333053501440
https://twitter.com/RealGDT/status/933808111663513600

"13 Tweets on why I am interviewing Michael Mann and George Miller (2 weeks each) about their films this Sabbatical year.

I sometimes feel that great films are made / shown at a pace that does not allow them to "land" in their proper weight or formal / artisitic importance...
18 replies 172 retweets 763 likes

As a result, often, these films get discussed in "all aspects" at once. But mostly, plot and character- anecdote and flow, become the point of discussion. Formal appreciation and technique become secondary and the specifics of narrative technique only passingly address

(adressed, I mean).

I want to do it because I want to know. I want to read their words, their reasons and I want to review their films as I would revisit a painting or a dance piece or a music number- I want to discuss lens choices and the vital difference between a dolly, techno crane or mini jib.

I would love to commemorate their technical choices and their audiovisual tools. I would love to dissect the narrative importance and impact of color, light, movement, wardrobe and set design. As Mann once put it: "Everything tells you something"

[****] I think we owe it to these (and a handful of filmmakers) to have their formal choices commemorated, the way one can appreciatethe voigour and thickness and precision of a brushtroke when you stand in front of an original painting.

A travelling shot IS a moral choice- but also a narrative one, that goes beyond style when applied by a master. I remember that epic moment in which Max steps out of the interceptor in Mad Max and removes his sunglasses- the wide lens pushes in and jibs up- underlining emotion

Uh- it's not quite 13 tweets yet but you catch my drift- and I have brussel sprouts in the frying pan- gotta go. But, there- that's the idea behind those 4 weeks of visit to two masters. Hugs to all.

I had my caramelized brussel sprouts. Nice.

Anyway, my hope is that we can dissect the importance of audiovisual tools delivering/reinforcing theme and character in a film. If these interviews / dialogues are useful I would keep having them. Filmmakers to filmmaker."]

[My response:

https://twitter.com/rogre/status/933806291461423105
"Our education system prioritizes text. Deviation from text is discouraged."

https://twitter.com/rogre/status/933808601608552448
"“To use the language well, says the voice of literacy, cherish its classic form. Do not choose the offbeat at the cost of clarity.” http://some-velvet-morning.tumblr.com/post/166694371846/shinjimoon-nothing-could-be-more-normative [from “Commitment from the Mirror-Writing Box,” Trinh T. Minh-Ha, Woman, Native, Other]

https://twitter.com/rogre/status/933808729937526784
"Clarity is a means of subjection, a quality both of official, taught language and of correct writing, two old mates of power; together they flow, together they flower, vertically, to impose an order."]
medialiteracy  aaronstewart-ahn  2017  guillermodeltoro  michaelmann  georgemiller  multiliteracies  text  film  filmmaking  plit  character  necdote  flow  dance  color  light  movement  wardrobe  trinhminh-ha  audiovisual  emotion  madmax  technique  canon 
november 2017 by robertogreco
internet derica
"CS Julie Dash does something that no one else does: she makes people in her films look beautiful. Black women, in particular, in her films are stunningly gorgeous.

LH Why is that so important?

CS Because it never happens. In the short film that she made at UCLA, Illusions (1982), she has this close-up of a beautiful brown-skinned girl singing, and there’s an eye light—it’s a technique you use in film to make sure there’s a sparkle in the eye, you put in a kicker to do it. She’s fully separated from the background. There’s a diffused key light so her skin is soft and dewy. The framing flatters the shape of her face. I’ll never forget that frame. When I saw it I thought, A filmmaker has never asked me to look for this long at a black girl, has never applied this much attention to her appearance. I see Daughters of the Dust (1991), 12 black women lit with the setting sun in white dresses on the beach looking like goddesses and I think, That’s how we should look in movies all the time. I don’t want to see us look any other way—not until it becomes normal. I need this image in my everyday life. In cinema, the icon is everything. It’s the portal through which empathy is produced. And the more seductive you make that, the more care you put into its construction, the easier it is for people to enter and identify with that image."

—Cauleen Smith by Leslie Hewitt, BOMB Magazine
[https://bombmagazine.org/articles/cauleen-smith/ ]
caullensmith  lesliehewitt  interviews  juliedash  blackness  film  identity  beauty  filmmaking 
november 2017 by robertogreco
internet derica
“If you think about film in the bare sense it is nothing but space and light. It is the placement of people inside these two illusions, space and light. You have to think about the freedom to move people through space and light in ways that make a statement about who they are out of the raw material of film, not first out of language. Language is to some degree, not that it’s secondary, but that it has to come out of a respect for the geography of cinema, which is these two dynamics. So language shouldn’t be the starting tool for developing characters. Language should finally just happen.”

— Kathleen Collins’s Masterclass, 1984 
[https://vimeo.com/203379245 ]
kathleencollins  film  1984  space  light  language  cinema  geography  filmmaking 
november 2017 by robertogreco
Impakt Festival 2017 - Performance: ANAB JAIN. HQ - YouTube
[Embedded here: http://impakt.nl/festival/reports/impakt-festival-2017/impakt-festival-2017-anab-jain/ ]

"'Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts': @anab_jain's expansive keynote @impaktfestival weaves threads through death, transcience, uncertainty, growthism, technological determinism, precarity, imagination and truths. Thanks to @jonardern for masterful advise on 'modelling reality', and @tobias_revell and @ndkane for the invitation."
https://www.instagram.com/p/BbctTcRFlFI/ ]
anabjain  2017  superflux  death  aging  transience  time  temporary  abundance  scarcity  future  futurism  prototyping  speculativedesign  predictions  life  living  uncertainty  film  filmmaking  design  speculativefiction  experimentation  counternarratives  designfiction  futuremaking  climatechange  food  homegrowing  smarthomes  iot  internetofthings  capitalism  hope  futures  hopefulness  data  dataviz  datavisualization  visualization  williamplayfair  society  economics  wonder  williamstanleyjevons  explanation  statistics  wiiliambernstein  prosperity  growth  latecapitalism  propertyrights  jamescscott  objectivity  technocrats  democracy  probability  scale  measurement  observation  policy  ai  artificialintelligence  deeplearning  algorithms  technology  control  agency  bias  biases  neoliberalism  communism  present  past  worldview  change  ideas  reality  lucagatti  alextaylor  unknown  possibility  stability  annalowenhaupttsing  imagination  ursulaleguin  truth  storytelling  paradigmshifts  optimism  annegalloway  miyamotomusashi  annatsing 
november 2017 by robertogreco
Interview: Mati Diop (Simon Killer) on Vimeo
"Interview with actress Mati Diop star of Simon Killer - 2012 Sundance Film Festival. Written and directed by Antonio Campos. Cinematographer: Joe Anderson. Editor: Antonio Campos, Babak Jalali, Zac Stuart Pontier. Producer: Sean Durkin, Josh Mond, Matt Palmieri. Co- producer: Melody Roscher. Also starring: Brady Corbet, Michael Abiteboul, Solo, Constance Rousseau, Lila Salet. Interview conducted by Eric Lavallee. IONCINEMA.com"
matidiop  film  filmmaking  2012  interdisciplinary  multidisciplinary  crossdisciplinary  transdisciplinary  music  dance  imagery  photography 
november 2017 by robertogreco
Fazeelat Aslam
"Fazeelat Aslam is a documentary filmmaker, correspondent and journalist. She was a co-producer for the documentary short, "Saving Face,” which won the 2012 Academy Award and 2013 Emmy for “Best Documentary". She is also the co-producer on "Tomorrow We Disappear," a documentary which premiered in competition at the 2014 Tribeca and Hot Docs Film Festival. She Fazeelat has produced for international organizations such as The New York Times, Channel 4 UK, and Al Jazeera. Her work in the United States spans from BuzzFeed to AJ+, The Intercept's Field of Vision, HBO, PBS Frontline, and Dan Rather. She worked as a producer and correspondent for the second season of VICE on HBO and VICE News.

Born in Lahore, Pakistan, Fazeelat attended Wellesley College where she double majored in Media Studies and Gender Studies. "
srg  fazeelataslam  film  documentary  journalism  filmmaking 
july 2017 by robertogreco
I’m Still Here: A Conversation with Agnès Varda - From the Current - The Criterion Collection
"At eighty-eight years old, Agnès Varda is still blossoming as an artist. Long known primarily as a filmmaker, a vocation she took up more than half a century ago, the French iconoclast is now in what she gleefully describes as her “third life,” a period in which her photography, video installation, and sculpture have finally gained international recognition. Last month, Varda visited New York for a revelatory new show at Blum & Poe gallery that spans over sixty years of her creative expression. The works on view highlight both her aesthetic versatility and her affinity for excavating the past to breathe new life into the present.

While in town for the opening of the exhibition, Varda visited us at Criterion for lunch and chatted about how her gallery art exists in the context of her career.

Q: Featured in the exhibition is a series of photographs that you first displayed in your courtyard over fifty years ago. What was your original experience of showing them like?

A: I made these photographs in 1953 and 1954 and printed them myself in my lab. At that time, I had done fifty, seventy—I don’t remember how many images—and I glued them to a woodlike material. I presented them in my courtyard, hanging them on the walls and the shutters. I was impressed to see them on a clean wall in a beautiful gallery in New York, when originally they were outside for two weeks, whatever the weather. Back then, I didn’t know anybody, and I didn’t ask any papers or journalists to come. I put up papers at the grocery and bakery on the two or three streets around me. People in my neighborhood came to visit, and some were name artists, like Brassaï, who lived next door. Now, fifty years later, the photographs are on a gallery wall and they’re called “vintages”—valuable things—and I feel very odd about that.

Q: Can you tell me about some of the other works on view?

A: Blum & Poe asked that the exhibition span from my early works in 1953 to what I’ve done in the last ten years. In the time in between, I have been inventing other ways of sharing images and sound in cinema, and I went from being an old filmmaker to a young visual artist. I especially love the triptych, a form of art used in sixteenth-century Flemish paintings. I try to bring together three images at the same time. In cinema, when someone goes out of frame, you don’t know where that person has gone. I always try to think about this when I see an image; my imagination is bigger than the screen. In my own triptychs, surrounding the central image, I like to be able to open side panels of what would have been off-screen.

I did something similar with a photo I took in Marseille in 1956. I was sent to do documentary images of a Le Corbusier building for a magazine, and I went to the terrace and took a snapshot. Every snapshot questions who these people are who happen to be there at that time: Did they know each other? Did they come here together? This inspired a short screenplay I wrote and shot years later, Les gens de la terrasse (2007). I took people I met, who weren’t even actors, and my friend, a set designer, built a wall like the terrace in the photo. Then I asked the people to act out the screenplay as if they were two families having a meeting. Maybe in real life these people didn’t know each other, but I made the screenplay work. In the gallery, on the same wall, the still image is near the video, at the same size.

Q: What is the inspiration behind the maquettes, which are miniature re-creations of larger shacks you’ve built using film stock?

A: I’m very into gleaners, recycling things. And as you know, film screenings have changed so much that now they no longer need film prints—they have DCP. And people watch films on little computers and even on smartphones, which I feel sad about. I feel sorry for all these cans full of 35 mm prints, which inspired me to build shacks out of real film stock. I made one with The Creatures and one with Lions Love (. . . and Lies). It’s funny to think about these films becoming shacks and transparent walls. People can enter and look at the walls and recognize the images. I was careful to put parts of Catherine Deneuve and Michel Piccoli at a good height, so people could recognize them. We all love shacks; as kids, we would make them with fabric in the woods, so it’s like an old childish desire to make them out of leftover abandoned prints. The gallery presents the miniatures, which I made by reshooting the films in Super 8.

Q: You seem to be creating a dialogue with the past, reimagining your own installations and photographs. Is this about reclaiming memory for you?

A: My point is not to remember but to revive the past, to make it now. My favorite landscape is the seaside, which I captured in a piece that mixes photography, film, and sand [Bord de mer]. I try to reinvent the photos I’ve taken, turn them into triptychs. The gallery also has three self-portraits: one from when I was twenty, one from when I was forty, and one from when I was eighty. It’s like me saying I’m still here. They show my long life as an artist.

I was mostly doing photography in my first life, then mostly making films in my second life, and now I’m mostly making installations—though I just completed a documentary with the artist JR, so I haven’t completely left filmmaking. An audience in a theater is different from the audience coming into a museum or a gallery. I had a big, big exhibition in Paris at the Fondation Cartier, and I also had one where I was born in a neighborhood in Brussels called Ixelles. I’m very happy that people want to show my stuff. It’s an extension of my sides, my arms, my body.

Q: How is your non-film visual art informed by your fifty-year career as a filmmaker?

A: I like to reconcile silver prints with digital, the past with the present. Sometimes I make my work with 35 mm negatives and video, mixing black-and-white and color, still images and movement. At the end of my life, I don’t want to say cinema is against video. I want to use all of these things and play with them and keep my wish to touch people. Not to make them cry, but to touch their sensibility. I’m putting together elements that touch your memory of your own life. I want people to get back to themselves; I don’t want to impose anything.

Q: How do you feel looking back on those photographs from your courtyard?

A: I feel old; I’ve learned a lot, suffered a lot, enjoyed a lot. But I think I’m blessed in the last part of my life to get so much understanding and so much love for my work. I think I’m spoiled, in a way, because I could just be home waiting for my children to visit me and watching TV and sleeping half the time. I’m almost eighty-nine, and I have an incredible, exciting life, so I feel very lucky. I’m most touched when I meet people in the streets who say, “Thank you, you gave me a lot of happiness.” More than when they say “Bravo.” I think it’s more touching to get a “Thank you,” no?"
agnèsvarda  hillaryweston  2017  film  filmmaking  learning  photography  1953  1954  recycling  smartphones  super8  memory  history  jr 
may 2017 by robertogreco
Time is Part of the Work: An Interview with Agnes Varda — Bright Wall/Dark Room
"For a while she sold DVDs of her movies to visitors from around the world through the window, living out a daydream, she says, of being a shopkeeper."



"I like to reconciliate black and white and color, the past and the present, the digital and the authentic. It’s like trying to make everything simple for me. It’s not ‘that time’ or ‘this time’. It’s mixing time and technique.”"



"This is a recurring idea in her work, that beyond the representational space of a film frame, an edit, a single image, a gallery space, there is an outside world only implied or imagined or rendered as unknown history."



"All images are questions. if you look at everything, a painting, an image, you can question… The way you look at it, what it brings to your mind, if it reminds you of something. My god. It does something. You could get that from one image, and there are so many. So you have to choose.

A snapshot is a real mystery. Because you do them in the street somewhere and really each time when I look at them I say who are they? From where are they coming? Why are they together? Maybe they hate each other, maybe they love each other. It’s even - in a magazine when they show all these things about war, about peace, about people in the streets, even you see them in demonstrations, I am always questioning: who are they?"



[Q: "A lot of the art you’re making asks the viewer’s imagination to be a participant…"]

"Well I ask people to participate, because an image you know… If you close the light, and you all go out, an image is nothing. It’s nothing. If nobody looks at an image it’s a dead piece of paper.

One viewer is enough. Somebody looks at the image, one viewer is enough. Two or three is fine. A thousand is, you know, in a film if you run the film in an empty theater, it’s nothing. But one spectator is enough."



[Q: "So what about our modern culture of photographs and videos? Last night at your art opening everyone was taking photos constantly of everything."]

"Well that’s interesting, cause you know when I was young it meant something to have a camera. It changed so much that now not only people start to have cheap cameras, but they all have smartphones and people do photos all the time. And it’s interesting because most, when they do selfies, they want to prove to themselves they were there.

It’s interesting because it’s saying “I need proof in my life”. When I am traveling, or I meet someone, people say “can I take a picture with you” like this [she mimes standing next to her and making a selfie]. And it has been studied by sociologists and historians because it’s something very new in civilization, that not only images are everywhere and easy to make, but we want to have memories of ourselves. So people do that.

When at the time, when I was young, people would bring a child to a photographer. And the child would be on a shiny pedestal, and the baby lying on its belly, or sitting, very posed, and it was an act, you know?

I even made a short film about it called Ydessa. And at the time, in Germany, before the war, they would always take a teddy bear with them and go into the studio with the teddy bear. The child or the couple would pose. It was like an art that would last for their whole life, they would have a photo. But the questions in this film are everywhere eight years later.

It’s very democratic in a way but still, some people now think of photos differently. And a lot of people are on Instagram and they put a lot of images, beautiful images, private images. They're beautiful. I look at a lot of Instagram pictures of people I don’t know. And I say, “Oooh he went there and did that, or she did this?” A woman that I knew, but I lost for years, and suddenly there are images of Mexico - she must have been traveling there. She’s in Mexico! Oh! And then she is back.

So it’s like in a way it becomes transparent. Like you leave information about yourself. Like all this Twitter and Facebook. Do you use them?"



"Sometimes I think in a selfish way, you know, we cannot grab all the misery and carry it in our bags.

Sometimes I feel we have to do what I feel I have to do as an artist. To do things. Maybe sharing with people. Sharing emotion, sharing information. But, I am just, too… I cannot change the world. I can only change some relation between some people in the cinema. It’s a very modest work. Touching very few people. I mean it’s, we have no possibility to do much more than the very modest work of artists. That’s the way I feel."



"I like to make films about people who aren’t spoken about.

What I think is because I know… The way you are involved in what’s happening in the world is relative. Because I cannot make a change about the desires of millions of people that want to move.

I’ve been hurt, in the heart, just by watching these images when they are on a boat and they die in the ocean and sometimes they are saved. But we cannot save them. We cannot go and take another boat and save three people and give them food and bring them home.

So we are assisting as a terrible spectacle all the hunger and migration in the world.

So I say, as artists, you can only do what we know how to do, which includes friendship, sharing, transmission."



"I have a formula: I switched from old filmmaker to young visual artist. Because people want definition. You are this or that. And I like to feel that I’m everything. I’ve had three lives: as a photographer, a filmmaker, and as a visual artist.

I am in time. I’m old. I’ve been crossing time for years. I love the idea that even with a bad memory I can pick something which is years ago or someone I met years ago and I am here, and I enjoy it."



[Q: "I ask her one final question: In all your work as a photographer, as a filmmaker, as an artist, what have you come to discover is the difference between media and memory?"]

"I don’t know, because you can see in your own life and use your memory to remember what you have. That’s not my point. My point is to get a piece of the past and bring it into my life of today.

So I don’t have the feeling that I wish to tell you my memories. I’ve done that in some of my films. What I do now, is always: make it alive now. I’ve been loving the seaside since I’m young. And it’s set where I did my first film, La Pointe Courte. By bringing the sea into a new medium, into the art world, it makes it alive. It’s not my past. I don’t care so much. I’ve been through a lot of things in my life. What I love is to make the now and here very important. That’s how I stand life.

It’s sharing what I do with people. My work is to propose, to propose the notion, to propose surprises, my view. That’s life. That’s what we call… The artist."
agnèsvarda  2017  aaronstewart-ahn  interviews  time  memory  memories  film  filmmaking  photography  audiencesofone  instagram  twitter  facebook  socialmedia  digital 
april 2017 by robertogreco
How the BBC makes Planet Earth look like a Hollywood movie - YouTube
"The technology behind the cinematic style of the BBC's Planet Earth II.

Check back next Monday for the next episode in this mini-series."
planetearth  bbc  filmmaking  cinematography  wildlife  nature  documentary  2017  cameras  stabilization  history 
february 2017 by robertogreco
Cinema in Black | Pioneer Works
"Cinema in Black
Taught by: Derica Shields Fanta Sylla
Mar 04 — Apr 22
8 Sessions
Saturdays, 3 - 6:00pm
First class, free RSVP
Entire class, $180

“But I think this underrepresentation also an amazing opportunity for us. It’s almost like Silicon Valley in the 80s and 90s: the black community is where all the great ideas are, it’s where the next generation of filmmakers are going to come from, it’s what’s going to save movies. Once we start making movies in the same way that we make music, it’ll be undeniable. Once we’re able to represent ourselves—not even represent ourselves but to express ourselves—in the way that we feel and we think, then I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know what that’s gonna look like!”

— Kahlil Joseph (music video director and filmmaker)

What is missing from the screens? Is Kendrick Lamar’s Good Kid M.a.a.d City an album or a short film? Does WorldStarHipHop create better representations of Blackness than Hollywood?

Cinema in Black explores representations of Blackness on screen and in text through films and related writing. The class will create an unconventional Black film canon through the appreciation of Black auteurs, including a focus on independent video artists and filmmakers and an exploration of alternative forms such as short online videos and music videos. Via the reading of seminal critical texts and discussions with guests and screenings, students will be asked to think about their own vision of cinema, their style and singular authorship. Students will be asked to experiment with tools they use in their everyday life (smartphones, Instagram and Snapchat Stories) and to write an augmented script. We hope to create a space in which we all can subvert hegemonic images and ways of thinking about Blackness, cinema and art and give birth to new images and new worlds.

This first meeting of this class is offered for free with an RSVP; the entire class requires registration after the first meeting.

Image from good kid, m.A.A.d city, directed by Kahlil Joseph.

Teacher(s)

Derica Shields is a writer, film programmer, and co-founder of The Future Weird.

Fanta Sylla is a critic (Reverse Shot, TIFF, Indiewire, Variety) and author of The Black Film Critic Syllabus. She’s based in Paris."
fantasylla  dericashields  2017  film  filmmaking  blackness  pioneerworks  kahiljoseph  smartphones  cinema  art  snapchat  instagram  storytelling  expression  kendricklamar  worldstarhiphop  hollywood  internet  online  web  mobile  phones  musicvideos  video 
february 2017 by robertogreco
Storytelling advice (video) | Khan Academy
[via: "Now you can take Pixar’s ‘The Art of Storytelling’ course for free"
http://blog.sfgate.com/techchron/2017/02/16/now-you-can-take-pixars-the-art-of-storytelling-course-for-free/

"Have you always wanted to be Pixar animator? Now that process is a tiny bit easier. The animation studio recently made a number of courses available on the Khan Academy website to help you start your journey — and they’re free.

The group of courses are called “Pixar in a Box” and include short lessons on everything from character modeling and animation to using virtual cameras. Today, it added a new course into the mix: The Art of Storytelling.

The free course is an exploration into the storytelling process at Pixar. From the course description:

“What makes someone a good storyteller? Storytelling is something we all do naturally, starting at a young age, but there’s a difference between good storytelling and great storytelling. In this lesson you’ll hear from Pixar directors and story artists about how they got their start, what stories inspire them, and you’ll begin to think about what kinds of stories you might want to tell.”

Throughout the course, you’ll learn what Pixar creators do to help build their own stories, complete activities, and get advice from Pixar storytellers on how to tell your own stories.

The courses are made up of text and short videos and are designed so that anyone at any skill level can start at the beginning and dive right in. They’re not quite as comprehensive as what you might learn in a college course but can give you a really good overview of a topic to help you decide if you might want to enroll in a course down the line.

Who knows? The next “Toy Story” might even be your idea."]

[Also available from Pixar:
https://www.khanacademy.org/partner-content/pixar ]
khanacademy  pixar  storytelling  classideas  animation  filmmaking  2017 
february 2017 by robertogreco
Sandberg Instituut: Shadow Channel
"Course
A new temporary two-year master programme in film, design and propaganda.

In recent years, high-definition video has democratised as a medium. Online platforms have lowered the cost of uploading and distributing films to zero. Social media are dominated by streaming video. Today, anyone with a smartphone has a movie camera at their disposal. It is now completely natural to think, sketch, and communicate in video. HD is the new A4.

Tutors and students at the Sandberg Instituut’s Design department have, since the department’s inception in the 1990s, been at the forefront of this development. The department’s new and radical approaches to moving image began to eat away at the edges of film and cinema. Many experimental graphic designers—including Shadow Channel tutors Rob Schröder and Daniel van der Velden—started to present their ideas via moving image installations, online videos, and, eventually, feature films.

To channel the momentum of an emerging movement of makers who embrace new approaches to filmmaking, we will launch the temporary two-year master SHADOW CHANNEL in September 2017. It is an independent master programme with close ties to the Design department. We are looking for applicants with specific interest in, experience with, and ambition for making radical forms of moving image, design and film.

SHADOW CHANNEL is a utopian platform commissioning, streaming, and distributing counter information created by underrepresented voices in response to platform capitalism, post-truth politics and the rise of neo-fascism. Participants will operate as a renegade production studio, running a ghost channel that streams short-and-long-form documentaries, music videos, and live feeds across multiple platforms. Responding in real-time to real-world issues, revealing and reflecting on the dominance of design and video in shaping the human condition.

The curriculum will be divided into backend and frontend. The backend will dissect the technological apparatus of ubiquitous video, updating skills and creating a deep understanding of the infrastructure. The frontend will amplify visual direction and critical storytelling, opening up a landscape of languages for maximum impact.

During the two-year programme, the channel will travel to cinemas, galleries, clubs, and festivals across Europe. Participants of SHADOW CHANNEL will curate, promote, and present (at) radical events that hack public discourse around journalism, politics, and the role of art."
film  design  propaganda  sandberginstituut  education  altgdp  socialmedia  video  hd  robschröder  danielvandervelden  filmmaking  edg  srg  technology  storytelling  juhavan'tzelfde 
january 2017 by robertogreco
What is to be done ? | Diagonal Thoughts
[via: http://stml.tumblr.com/post/155290210410 ]

"By Jean-Luc Godard

Written in January 1970 at the request of Simon Field and Peter Sainsbury for the magazine Afterimage, produced by Peter Whitehead. Published in Afterimage n°1, April 1970. Translated from French by Mo Teitelbaum.

1. We must make political films.

2. We must make films politically.

3. 1 and 2 are antagonist to each other and belong to two opposing conceptions of the world.

4. 1 belongs to the idealistic and metaphysical conception of the world.

5. 2 belongs to the Marxist and dialectical conception of the world.

6. Marxism struggles against idealism and the dialectical against the metaphysical.

7. This struggle is the struggle between the old and the new, between new ideas and old ones.

8. The social existence of men determines their thought.

9. The struggle between the old and the new is the struggle of classes.

10. To carry out 1 is to remain a being of the bourgeois class.

11. To carry out 2 is to take up a proletarian class position.

12. To carry out 1 is to make descriptions of situations.

13. To carry out 2 is to make concrete analysis of a concrete situation.

14. To carry out 1 is to make BRITISH SOUNDS.

15. To carry out 2 is to struggle for the showing of BRITISH SOUNDS on English television.

16. To carry out 1 is to understand the law of the objective world in order to explain the world.

17. To carry out 2 is to understand the law of the objective world in order to actively transform that world.

18. To carry out 1 is to describe the wretchedness of the world.

19. To carry out 2 is to show the people in struggle.

20. To carry out 2 is to destroy 1 with the weapons of criticism and self-criticism.

21. To carry out 1 is to give a complete view of events in the name of truth in itself.

22. To carry out 2 is not to fabricate over-complete images of the world in the name of relative truth.

23. To carry out 1 is to say how things are real. (Brecht)

24. To carry out 2 is to say how things really are. (Brecht)

25. To carry out 2 is to edit a film before shooting it, to make it during filming and to make it after the filming. (Dziga Vertov)

26. To carry out 1 is to distribute a film before producing it.

27. To carry out 2 is to produce a film before distributing it, to learn to produce it following the principle that:
it is production which commands distribution
it is politics which commands economy.

28. To carry out 1 is to film students who write: Unity – Students – Workers.

29. To carry out 2 is to know that unity is a struggle of opposites (Lenin) to know that two are in one.

30. To carry out 2 is to study the contradictions between the classes with images and sounds.

31. To carry out 2 is to study the contradictions between the relationships of production and the productive forces.

32. To carry out 2 is to dare to know where one is, and where one has come from, to know one’s place in the process of production in order then to change it.

33. To carry out 2 is to know the history of revolution struggles and be determined by them.

34. To carry out 2 is to produce scientific knowledge of revolution struggles and of their history.

35. To carry out 2 is to know that film making is a secondary activity, a small screw in the revolution.

36. To carry out 2 is to use images and sounds as teeth and lips to bite with.

37. To carry out 1 is only to open the eyes and the ears.

38. To carry out 2 is to read the reports of comrade Kiang Tsing.

39. To carry out 2 is to be militant.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
Notes

14/15 British Sounds, Dziga Vertov Group’s third film, came out in 1969. The transcript of the film is available here.
23/24: “Realism doesn’t mean showing real things, but showing how things really are.” Godard also quoted this dictum by Brecht in the scenario of Les Carabiniers (1963).
25: A reference to Vertov’s text “Provisional Instructions to Kino-Eye Groups” (1926).
29: According to Lenin, “dialectics can be defined as the doctrine of the unity of opposites” (1961).
38: Kiang Tsing (or Jiang Qing) was Mao Zedong’s last wife, well known for her role in the Cultural Revolution (1966–76) and for forming the political alliance known as the “Gang of Four”. During the Cultural revolution, Joang Qing, who used to be a Shanghai movie star in the 1940s, created the “internal screenings” (or “internal reference material film”) system which allowed for some filmmakers and elite intellectuals to watch Western films in screenings that were closed to the general public. Godard pays homage to her in Vent d’Est (1970), refering to her text “Summary of the Forum on the Work in Literature And Art in the Armed Forces With Which Comrade Lm Piao Entrusted Comrade Chiang Ching”."
jean-lucgodard  manifestos  1970  politics  resistance  activism  simonfield  petersainsbury  filmmaking  idealism  marxism  metaphysical  bourgeoisie  proletariat  understanding  bertoltbrecht  production  kiangtsing  militantism  jiangqing  realism 
january 2017 by robertogreco
Is Children of Men 2016’s Most Relevant Film? -- Vulture
"Now, in 2016, Children of Men is having a remarkable resurgence — not just because of its tenth anniversary but because of its unsettling relevance at the conclusion of this annus horribilis. There have been glowing reappraisals on grounds both sociopolitical (Children of Men is “obviously something that should be on people’s minds after Brexit and after the rise of Donald Trump,” political scientist Francis Fukuyama declared in September) and artistic (“Children of Men, like no other film this century, and perhaps no other movie ever, solves the meaning of life,” wrote Vanity Fair columnist Richard Lawson in August). It’s getting the kind of online attention it sorely lacked ten years ago, generating recent headlines like “The Syrian Refugee Crisis Is Our Children of Men Moment” and “Are We Living in the Dawning of Alfonso Cuarón’s Children of Men?” As critic David Ehrlich put it in November, “Children of Men may be set in 2027,” but in 2016, “it suddenly became clear that its time had come.”

Cuarón, however, is not feeling like taking an overdue victory lap. Curled over a table in an upscale Mexico City restaurant recently, the 55-year-old director gets a little irritated when I laud the film’s imaginative prescience. “This thing was not imagination,” he says, jabbing his index finger into the tablecloth. By Cuarón’s estimation, anyone surprised at the accuracy of his movie’s predictions was either uninformed or willfully ignorant about the way the world already was by 2006. “People were talking about those things, just not in the mainstream!” he says. He was reading about refugees, know-nothing reactionaries, and eerie disruptions in biological processes during the early '00s. If Children of Men can be said to have a message, Cuarón encapsulates it: “What’s really relevant now,” he tells me, “is to stop being complacent.”"



"Action. Owen ran, Richmond followed, and astoundingly, all was going smoothly. They got to a hollowed-out bus filled with people, through which Theo is supposed to scamper. Suddenly, one of the squibs misfired and, horror of horrors, a squirt of fake blood landed on the lens. Cuarón, watching on a monitor, felt his world collapse. “I yell, ‘Cut!’ ” he says, recounting the moment like a ghost story. “But an explosion happens at the same time, so nobody hears me.” The camera kept rolling, and Cuarón realized he had no choice but to let it play through, even though he was sure the shot was ruined and had no idea how he would proceed. “When we said, ‘Cut,’ Chivo starts dancing like crazy,” he says. “And I was like, ‘No, it didn’t work! There’s blood!’ And Chivo turns to me and says, ‘You stupid! That was a miracle!’ ” Chivo was right. One of the film’s enduring strengths is how it uses hyper-minute details to lull you into accepting the plausibility of this dire reality: bus advertisements that hawk trendy clothes for dogs (kids may be gone, but capitalism isn’t, so wouldn’t the Gap push you to dress your pets?); Theo casually asking Julian if her parents were “in New York when it happened” and never explaining what terrifying event “it” might have been; or the elderly, white, German refugee using her native tongue to indignantly weep about being herded alongside Schwarzen. The blood-squib shot encapsulates this aesthetic, and has since become famous — an eerie moment that, once seen, can’t be shaken, even ten years later. This dystopia doesn’t feel like a metaphor or a cautionary tale; it feels like a revelation of deeper truth. As one of Children of Men’s biggest fans, Slovenian philosopher and cultural critic Slavoj Žižek, put it in a documentary featurette that accompanied the DVD release, “A good portrait is more you than you are, yourself, and I think this is what the film does with our reality … It simply makes reality more what it already is.”"



"I saw Children of Men by accident on January 1, 2007, after finding that the movie I’d intended to see — Clint Eastwood’s Letters From Iwo Jima, if I recall correctly — was sold out. I picked Children of Men despite knowing absolutely nothing about it, and seeing it was one of the most profound experiences of my life. I came back to the theater to see Children of Men at least a half-dozen times over the following weeks. Then, a strange thing started to happen at night. I would dream about the final scene, in which Theo and Kee sit in the rowboat, awaiting the ship whose existence Theo won’t live to confirm. Upon waking, I’d find myself sobbing uncontrollably, soaking my pillow and heaving my gut.

Only after speaking with Cuarón did I realize why I wept: not with sorrow, but with hope for my own future. Children of Men imagines a fallen world, yes, but it also imagines a once-cynical person being reborn with purpose and clarity. It’s a story about how people like me, those who have the luxury of tuning out, need to awaken. This has been a brutal year, but we were already suffering from a kind of spiritual infertility: The old ideologies long ago stopped working. In a period where the philosophical pillars supporting the global left, right, and center are crumbling, the film’s desperate plea for the creation and protection of new ideas feels bracingly relevant.

Even though that lesson eluded me for a decade, I retained a passionate affection for Children of Men, long ago losing count of the number of times I’ve watched it. So it’s been deeply satisfying to see its robust second life among critics: It was particularly gratifying to see that, when the BBC polled 177 critics for a master list of the greatest films of the 21st century, Children of Men clocked in at number 13, beating out canonical flicks like 12 Years a Slave, Brokeback Mountain, Lost in Translation, and The Master.

Oddly enough, Cuarón doesn’t seem interested in talking about the film’s critical reappraisal, nor in agreeing that it is more relevant now than it was in 2006. We met up 12 days after Trump’s victory, and I expected him to be in full end-is-nigh mode, but he was relentlessly pleasant. He said he was not surprised that the atavistic rage of the Brexiters and Trumpists had overcome the weakening forces of centrist democracy. But most important, Cuarón was, against all odds, confident that better days lie ahead. “I used to think that any solution would come from the paradigms that I know,” he says. “Now I think that the only thing is to think of the unimaginable. For the new generation, the unimaginable is not as unimaginable.”

But, I counter, thanks to climate change, won’t we all be underwater pretty soon? Sure, he says, climate change could decimate humanity, but that’s no excuse to give in to fatalism. “There would be, still, pockets of populations that will scatter around the world,” he says. “What’s at stake is the culture as we know it.” Humans will continue to exist — and we have a responsibility to build a culture of respect and mutual assistance. It seems so dreadfully unlikely, but we are obligated to hope.

Cuarón is very specific about what he means by that word. For him, it is not a passive thing. It is not a messianic thing, either — he speaks derisively of the idea that you could vote for Barack Obama, then sit back passively and feel disappointed. “The hope is something that you create,” he says. “You live by hoping and then you create that change. Hope is trying to change your present for a better world. It’s pretty much up to you.” The gap between our world and that of Children of Men is closing rapidly, but he refuses to give up his faith in our wayward species. There are dark days ahead, to be sure, but perhaps they will also be days of transformation. “Look, I’m absolutely pessimistic about the present,” Cuarón says. “But I’m very optimistic about the future.”"
alfonsocuarón  childrenofmen  2016  2006  film  movies  abrahamriesman  climatechange  optimism  hope  refugees  francisfukuyama  richardlawson  complacency  dystopia  emmanuellubezki  filmmaking 
january 2017 by robertogreco
The Future of Cities – Medium
[video (embedded): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOOWk5yCMMs ]

"Organic Filmmaking and City Re-Imagining

What does “the future of cities” mean? To much of the developing world, it might be as simple as aspiring to having your own toilet, rather than sharing one with over 100 people. To a family in Detroit, it could mean having non-toxic drinking water. For planners and mayors, it’s about a lot of things — sustainability, economy, inclusivity, and resilience. Most of us can hope we can spend a little less time on our commutes to work and a little more time with our families. For a rich white dude up in a 50th floor penthouse, “the future of cities” might mean zipping around in a flying car while a robot jerks you off and a drone delivers your pizza. For many companies, the future of cities is simply about business and money, presented to us as buzzwords like “smart city” and “the city of tomorrow.”

I started shooting the “The Future of a Cities” as a collaboration with the The Nantucket Project, but it really took shape when hundreds of people around the world responded to a scrappy video I made asking for help.

Folks of all ages, from over 75 countries, volunteered their time, thoughts, work, and footage so that I could expand the scope of the piece and connect with more people in more cities. This strategy saved me time and money, but it also clarified the video’s purpose, which inspired me to put more energy into the project in order to get it right. I was reading Jan Gehl, Jane Jacobs, Edward Glaeser, etc. and getting excited about their ideas — after seeing what mattered to the people I met in person and watching contributions from those I didn’t, the video gained focus and perspective.

If I hired a production services outfit to help me film Mumbai, it would actually be a point of professional pride for the employees to deliver the Mumbai they think I want to see. If some young filmmakers offer to show me around their city and shoot with me for a day, we’re operating on another level, and a very different portrait of a city emerges. In the first scenario, my local collaborators get paid and I do my best to squeeze as much work out of the time period paid for as possible. In the second, the crew accepts more responsibility but gains ownership, hopefully leaving the experience feeling more empowered.

Architect and former mayor of Curitiba Jaime Lerner famously said “if you want creativity, take a zero off your budget. If you want sustainability, take off two zeros.” It’s been my experience that this sustainability often goes hand-in-hand with humanity, and part of what I love about working with less resources and money is that it forces you to treat people like human beings. Asking someone to work with less support or equipment, or to contribute more time for less money, requires a mutual understanding between two people. If each person can empathize for the other, it’s been my experience that we’ll feel it in the work — both in the process and on screen.

Organic filmmaking requires you to keep your crew small and your footprint light. You start filming with one idea in mind, but the idea changes each day as elements you could never have anticipated inform the bigger picture. You make adjustments and pursue new storylines. You edit a few scenes, see what’s working and what’s not, then write new scenes. Shoot those, cut them in, then go back and write more. Each part of the process talks to the other. The movie teaches itself to be a better movie. Because organic is complicated, it can be tricky to defend and difficult to scale up, but because it’s cheap and low-resource, it’s easier to experiment. Learning about the self-organizing, living cities that I did on this project informed how we made the video. And looking at poorly planned urban projects reminded me of the broken yet prevailing model for making independent film in the U.S., where so many films are bound to fail — often in a way a filmmaker doesn’t recover from — before they even begin.

Jane Jacobs said that “cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody.” I’ve worked on videos for companies, for the guy in the penthouse, for nobody in particular, in the developing world, with rich people and poor people, for me, for my friends, and for artists. I’m so thankful for everybody who allowed me to make this film the way we did, and I hope the parallels between filmmaking and city building — where the stakes are so much higher — aren’t lost on anyone trying to make their city a better place. We should all be involved. The most sustainable future is a future that includes us all.

“The Future of Cities” Reading List

(There’s a longer list I discovered recently from Planetizen HERE but these are the ones I got into on this project — I’m excited to read many more)

The Death and Life of American Cities by Jane Jacobs
The Triumph of the City: How Our Greatest Invention Makes Us Richer, Smarter, Greener, Healthier, and Happier by Edward Glaeser
Cities for People and Life Between Buildings by Jan Gehl
The Well-Tempered City: What Modern Science, Ancient Civilizations, and Human Nature Teach Us About the Future of Urban Life by Jonathan Rose(just came out — incredible)
Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America, One Step at a Time by Jeff Speck
The City of Tomorrow: Sensors, Networks, Hackers, and the Future of Urban Life by Carlo Ratti and Matthew Claudel
Happy City: Transforming Our Lives Through Urban Design by Charles Montgomery
Dream Cities: Seven Urban Ideas That Shape the World by Wade Graham
Connectography: Mapping The Future of Global Civilization by Parag Khanna
Delirious New York by Rem Koolhaas
Low Life and The Other Paris by Luc Sante
A History of Future Cities by Daniel Brook
Streetfight: Handbook for the Urban Revolution by Janette Sadik-Khan and Seth Solomonow
Tactical Urbanism: Short-term Action for Long-Term Change by Mike Lydon & Anthony Garcia
Living In The Endless City, edited by Ricky Burdett and Deyan Sudjic

“The Future of Cities” Select Interviewees:
David Hertz & Sky Source
Vicky Chan & Avoid Obvious Architects
Carlo Ratti: Director, MIT Senseable City Lab Founding Partner, Carlo Ratti Associati
Edward Glaeser: Fred and Eleanor Glimp Professor of Economics, Harvard University Author of The Triumph of the City
Helle Søholt: Founding Parner & CEO, Gehl Architects
Ricky Burdett: Director, LSE Cities/Urban Age
Lauren Lockwood, Chief Digital Officer, City of Boston
Pablo Viejo: Smart Cities Expert & CTO V&V Innovations, Singapore
Matias Echanove & Urbz, Mumbai
Janette Sadik-Khan: Author, Advisor, & Former NYC DOT Commissioner
Abess Makki: CEO, City Insight
Dr. Parag Khanna: Author of Connectography
Stan Gale: CEO of Gale International, Developer of Songdo IBD
Dr. Jockin Arputham: President, Slum Dwellers International
Morton Kabell: Mayor for Technical & Environmental Affairs, Copenhagen
cities  urban  urbanplanning  urbanism  bikes  biking  cars  singapore  nyc  losangeles  janejacobs  jangehl  edwardglaeser  mumbai  tokyo  regulation  jaimelerner  curitiba  nantucketproject  carloratti  vickchan  davidhertz  hellesøholt  rickyburdett  laurenlockwood  pabloviejo  matiasechanove  urbz  janettesadik-khan  abessmakki  paragkhanna  stangale  jockinarputham  slumdwellersinternational  slums  mortonkabell  urbanization  future  planning  oscarboyson  mikelydon  anthonygarcia  danielbrook  lucsante  remkoolhaas  dayansudjic  rickyburdettsethsolomonow  wadegraham  charlesmontgomery  matthewclaudeljeffspeck  jonathanrose  transportation  publictransit  transit  housing  construction  development  local  small  grassroots  technology  internet  web  online  communications  infrastructure  services  copenhagen  sidewalks  pedestrians  sharing  filmmaking  film  video  taipei  seoul  santiago  aukland  songdo  sydney  london  nairobi  venice  shenzhen  2016  sustainability  environment  population  detroit  making  manufacturing  buildings  economics  commutes  commuting 
december 2016 by robertogreco
William Kentridge Interview: How We Make Sense of the World - YouTube
""There is a desperation in al certainty. The category of political uncertainty, philosophical uncertainty, uncertainty of images is much closer to how the world is", says South African artist William Kentridge in this video presenting his work.

"The films come out of a need to make an image, an impulse to make a film, and the meaning emerges over the months of the making of the film. The only meaning they have in advance is the need for the film to exist".

William Kentridge (b. 1955) is South Africa's most important contemporary artist, best known for his prints, drawings and animated films. In this video he presents his work, his way of working and his philosophy.

He tells the story of how he failed to be an artist:

"I failed at painting, I failed at acting, I failed at film making, so I discovered at the age of 30 I was back making drawings". It was not until he told himself he was an artist with all he wanted to included in the term - that he felt he was on the right track. "It took me a long time to unlearn the advice I had been giving. For for me the only hope was the cross fertilization between the different medias and genres."

William Kentridge talks about the origin of his animated films with drawing in front of the camera. "I was interested in seeing how a drawing would come into being". "It was from the charcoal drawing that the process of animation expanded". With charcoal "you can change a drawing as quickly as you can think".

"I am interested in showing the process of thinking. The way that one constructs a film out of these fragments that one reinterprets retrospectively - and changes the time of - is my sense of how we make sense of the world. And so the animated films can be a demonstration of how we make sense of the world rather than an instruction about what the world means."

"Uncertainty is an essential category. As soon as one gets certain their voice gets louder, more authoritarian and authoritative and to defend themselves they will bring an army and guns to stand next to them to hold. There is a desperation in al certainty. The category of political uncertainty, philosophical uncertainty, uncertainty of images is much closer to how the world is. That is also related to provisionality, to the fact that you can see the world as a series of facts or photographs or you can see it as a process of unfolding. Where the same thing in a different context has a very different meaning or very different form."

"I learned much more from the theatre school in Paris, Jacques Lecoq, a school of movement and mime, than I ever did from the art lessons. It is about understanding the way of thinking through the body. Making art is a practical activity. It is not sitting at a computer. It is embodying an idea in a physical material, paper, charcoal, steal, wood."

William Kentridge will work on a piece not knowing if it will come out as a dead end or a piece of art, giving it the benefit of the doubt, not judging it in advance, he says.

The artist has been compared to Buster Keaton and Gerorge Méliès. He mentions Hogarth, Francis Bacon, Manet, Philip Guston, Picasso, the Dadaists, Samuel Beckett and Mayakovski as inspirations.

"I am considered a political artist by some people and as a non-political artist by other political artists. I am interested in the politics of certainty and the demagoguery of certainty and the fragility of making sense of the world", William Kentridge states.

This video shows different excerpts from the work: 'The Journey to the Moon' (2003), 'The Refusal of Time' (2012) 'What Will Come (has already come)' (2007).

William Kentridge was interviewed by Christian Lund at the Deutsche Staatstheater in Hamburg in January 2014 in connection with the performance of the stage version of 'The Refusal of Time', called 'Refuse The Hour'."
williamkentridge  art  thinking  uncertainty  certainty  artists  provisionality  busterkeaton  georgeméliès  christianlund  therefusaloftime  accretion  process  making  filmmaking  philosophy  sensemaking  makingsense  unlearning  howework  howwethink  authoritarianism  chance  fortune  unschooling  deschooling  unknowing  hogarth  francisbacon  manet  philipguston  picasso  samuelbeckett  mayakovski 
december 2016 by robertogreco
Eyeo 2016 – Sarah Hendren on Vimeo
"Design for Know-Nothings, Dilettantes, and Melancholy Interlopers – Translators, impresarios, believers, and the heartbroken—this is a talk about design outside of authorship and ownership, IP or copyright, and even outside of research and collaboration. When and where do ideas come to life? What counts as design? Sara talks about some of her own "not a real designer" work, but mostly she talks about the creative work of others: in marine biology, architecture, politics, education. Lots of nerdy history, folks."
sarahendren  eyeo2016  2016  eyeo  dilettantes  interlopers  translation  ownership  copyright  collaboration  education  marinebiology  architecture  design  research  learning  howwelearn  authorship  socialengagement  criticaldesign  thehow  thewhy  traction  meaning  place  placefulness  interconnectedness  cause  purpose  jacquescousteau  invention  dabbling  amateurs  amateurism  exploration  thinking  filmmaking  toolmaking  conviviality  convivialtools  ivanillich  impresarios  titles  names  naming  language  edges  liminalspaces  outsiders  insiders  dabblers  janeaddams  technology  interdependence  community  hullhouse  generalists  radicalgeneralists  audrelorde  vaclavhavel  expertise  pointofview  disability  adaptability  caseygollan  caitrinlynch  ingenuity  hacks  alinceshepherd  inclinedplanes  dance  pedagogy  liminality  toolsforconviviality  disabilities  interconnected  interconnectivity 
august 2016 by robertogreco
Werner Herzog on the future of film school, critical connectivity, and Pokémon Go | The Verge
"EY: Have you seen any changes or shifts in the work and in the submissions over the past seven years?

WH: There are always surprises. All of a sudden there is a film that is not really accomplished, but in the film there is a minute of utterly new unseen stuff that just makes you sit down and take a deep breath. Those are the [filmmakers] I would invite [to Rogue Film School], those who are not following on the trodden path. The MasterClass speaks to you in the same way. Find your own voice, do not just stupidly and blindly follow the so-called rules of storytelling in terms of screenplays, the three-act theory, all these things. Find your voice, find your own identity, don't be afraid just to step into it.

Because today it's fairly easy; you can make a film with a very high caliber camera that's not expensive anymore. You can record sound on your cell phone if you add a good microphone and you can edit your film on your laptop. In other words, you can make a feature film for $10,000 or under. And that's what I keep telling the students or those who watch the MasterClass: don't wait for the system to accept you. You create your own system, create your own [budget] and make your own first feature film or your first own documentary.

EY: More and more that DIY spirit is the dominant attitude of young filmmakers, especially those putting their work directly online. Do you think traditional film school will ever go extinct?

WH: No, unfortunately they are not going to go completely extinct; I wish they would. I wish everybody would come out of nowhere and be self-taught by life itself, by the world itself. No, [film school is] going to stay because there is a general demand for content, let's say, on television. And the film industry has some sort of a permanent demand for content. Let it be like that. I do not want to challenge it. But when you look into my MasterClass you better be out for something else."



"WH: No, you shouldn't watch it [the MasterClass] all at once. That would be completely mad. And be careful with the assignments, because sometimes I would say you do not need to follow them. Create your own assignments, be intelligent. Giving assignments, it reeks of high school and getting homework.

EY: Some people respond to that though, some people like that.

WH: Yes, but I always was reluctant to give any assignments. But it's fine. Let it be as it is. It's part of the format and it's part of the charm of it. When it comes to assignment I'm not the one who should be a high school principal.

EY: Right.

WH: I'd rather jump from Golden Gate Bridge if that happens.

EY: I asked about film school because I graduated from a film program less than a decade ago, and already many of the technical skills I learned are outdated. And it seems the things that remain are very personal lessons that usually don't come from the curriculum itself.

WH: Yeah, certain things you can neither learn in film school nor let's say the MasterClass nor in the Rogue Film School. It's just life, raw life as it is has to give you insight and has to allow you to make the right decisions and ask the right questions and gathering enough courage to do something."



"WH: If you are too much into the internet, yes, because it's a parallel surrogate life. It has nothing to do with the real world or examination of the real world, if you delegate too much to your cell phone and applications."



"WH: You see, I come from a world where you touch things, like a roll of celluloid. But I have to get better accustomed to the virtual world."



EY: Lo and Behold is officially being released in August, but in the meantime you've had the chance to screen it several times. What kinds of reactions have you gotten, especially from people who are perhaps more embedded in the "connected world" than you are?

WH: Well, everybody has been enthusiastic so far and the buzz is enormous. I never expected it, because in the beginning I was to do some YouTube tips on texting and driving. The financiers of the film, NETSCOUT, understood there was something much, much bigger and they supported me with that. The response has been totally unprecedented for me. What is also remarkable I get a lot of emails nowadays [from] 12, 14, 15-year-olds. And that's something really surprising because they speak a different language, the language of their age group. And yet [they are] making some very intelligent remarks."
wernerherzog  masterclass  education  filmmaking  2016  interviews  emilyyoshida  experience  unschooling  deschooling  internet  virtualreality  pokémongo  pokémon  pokemon  making  observation  roguefilmschool  diy  film  documentary  assignments  howweteach  howwelearn  learning  teaching  pokemongo  edg  srg  vr 
july 2016 by robertogreco
Winds From The East: Sensei and I- Kiarostami meets Kurosawa
"Kurosawa had written a favorable commentary in the publicity leaflet that accompanies the public screening in Tokyo of Where is the friend’s Home? And Life Goes On..., “I believe the films of Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami are extraordinary. Words cannot relate my feelings. I suggest you his films; and then you will see what I mean. Satyajit Ray passed away and I got very upset. But having watched Kiarostami’s films, I thank god because now we have a good substitute for him. Recently, in the face of the decline of cinema in developed countries, nations with little experience in the area of filmmaking have produced valuable works; and I have to think about this more seriously after seeing Kiarostami’s films. “An unprecedented comment by Kurosawa who seldom talks about other director’s films. In fact, during the past 43 years he has only about the works of Andrei Tarkvosky, John Cassavetes, Satyajit Ray and now Abbas Kiarostami.

Late in September 1993, Abbas Kiarostami and I held a two and a half hour long meeting with the renowned Japanese maestro Akira Kurosawa in Tokyo. Kurosawa’s daughter opens the door and we see a tall and strong Kurosawa approaching in pink and beige. Later on we find out that on the occasion of his meeting with Kiarostami the Japanese master has forget about his beloved colorful T-shirts and consented to put on a more formal pink blouse. All of us seem to be overwhelmed by Kurosawa’s grandeur when he shows us to the second floor study with its black leather furniture, mild lighting and an Oscar statue. Other decorations in the room are some Iranian copper-ware, a photo of Kurosawa’s wife and Japanese painting on the wall.

“I was in Cannes when you too, were there” it is Kurosawa who opens the discussion, “of course, I had not seen your films then. “And Kiarostami continues, “I had the chance to see your Madadayo in Cannes and you were sitting two rows ahead of me. It was a great opportunity to see you and your film at once. You may not know how popular you are in my country. Both the intellectuals and ordinary people like your works. In fact, you and the late Alfred Hitchcock are the most popular foreign filmmakers in Iran. Once one of the officials at the Iranian film industry said that you and Tarkvosky were the only foreign filmmakers whose film compiled with the value system of Iranian arts. I wish I could share the joy of meeting you with others in Iran”.

Kurosawa said, “I was a friend of Tarkvosky. Our friendship started during a visit to Moscow. I was twice invited to Iran more than a decade ago to join the jury of the Tehran International film festival. But I don’t like to judge the films. It’s too difficult a job for me. I understand you were a member of the jury in Yamagata, wasn’t it difficult?”

“Yes, it is always difficult particularly when there are no certain criteria. Every time I act as a juror, I tell myself that I would never do that again. But any new invitation creates a new temptation…and it’s always impossible to resist when you are tempted to set out for a trip. It is always nice to do something contrary to what you used to; and I won’t miss any opportunity,” says Kiarostami

Kurosawa says, “I agree with you, but it is really difficult for me to embark on any trip. My legs are aching and official trips impose limitation on you. You have to accept anything that has been planned for you. In fact you do not travel. They take you from one place to another”, says Kurosawa, but Kiarostami promises to plan his visit to Iran the way he likes it, if he ever sets out for the trip; which is quite unlikely. Yet he is curious about Iran. “I’m sure there are other good filmmakers in Iran. However, what I like about your films is their simplicity and fluency, although it is really hard to describe them. One has to see them. It is strange how you work with non-professional actors. How do you work particularly with children?” asks Kurosawa. “The best answer to your question would be that I simply don’t know”, says Kiarostami, I learned this from you and I use it more easily since I first listened to you saying this at last year’s Tokyo film festival. Sometimes, non-professional actors’ performance surprises me. Of course there are certain rules for everything, but what you gain is not always necessarily the outcome of rules.

Kurosawa believes it is very interesting and at the same time difficult. “Although working with professionals, too, is not so easy. You have to crush them with every film and build them anew. That is why working with professional actors is difficult”. - he says. Kiarostami says that he has heard how Kurosawa has treated the veteran actor who played in his latest film. “Everyone was obviously worried about the old man’s health,” he says.

Kurosawa laughs, “I had no other way but to do that, you have to trim an actor’s personality if you expect an excellent performance. To do that, I have to be a little bit violent and exert pressure on them. Have you ever worked with professionals? ”

“I’ve had a fresh experience with a professional actor in my latest film. As you said, they stick to their previous roles. A peril that threatens us, too. Sometimes, we tend use an idea that we have had for our previous films but failed to actualize. As someone has said, one wouldn’t get old if s/he could forget her or his experiences. If we could forget our experience our film may not be flawless, but they will certainly be fresh. Veteran actors are powerfully experienced, but alas, they are no longer fresh; and it is difficult to make them return to their credo human feelings,” reasons Abbas Kiarostami.

Akira Kurosawa confirms that he too, has to face the same problem. “In order to grasp this feeling of integrity I use long takes using a theatrical style even when what I really want is a brief piece of action. What makes it difficult in the movies is cutting. Sometimes the problem comes from the fact that two actors cannot act in collaboration with each other. When one of them acts really well, this adversely affects the others performance. And when the latter improves, the former is too tired. The most serious problem with an actor is that he does not really listen to the person acting in front of him. He is in fact preparing himself for the next line. You usually see no reaction in an actor’s face of what he is seeing or hearing. So I take long takes with several cameras. Actors usually do not know which camera is filming them, so they lose their sensitivity to the camera that is taking a close up. This makes their acting more natural, “says Kurosawa.

Kiarostami on the other than exclaims that many of his films have been harshly criticized for being natural. “Critics believe that the stage and the screen are sacred, so no one should commit anything ordinary there. In their eyes naturalism is commonplace. They say everything must be exaggerated, as they believe your films are.”

Kurosawa laughs in surprise, “Maybe my actors’ behavior look exaggerated in your country, but they are definitely natural here. Cultural differences must not be taken for exaggeration. I have to say that I honestly enjoyed watching your films. They include appreciation for your working style. How do you work with children, in particular? They do not feel at home in my films and keep watching me in a discreet way”.

Kiarostami explains “Maybe that’s because you are Kurosawa. The children that work for me hardly know me. During the actual filming I try to pretend that I’m not the governor. Usually I ask the crew to judge about their acting. Of course, every needs a special trick, sometimes it is another story.”

“This is the cinema that must be supported and taken seriously. My children and grandchildren never see American films. They have their own boycotting system which rules out violent films. I wish this humanistic cinema could stand against all vulgarity,” says Kurosawa. He adds, “I’m sure good films are being made everywhere. But filmmaking in Europe and the States is going backwards while good films are being made in Asia and finding their way to International film festivals. The global screen is not for the films of only one country. Films make their viewers familiar with the cultural settings of their country of origins. If they are made according to a national culture then they will be welcomed abroad. My grandchildren and I made ourselves familiar with Iran and her people with your films.”

“You have said that films must be made with hearts and seen with hearts,” says Kiarostami. And Kurosawa admits that “ Yes, I did; unfortunately most Japanese people see films with brains and try to find flaws in it . Sometimes, critics ask questions for which I have no answer, because I have not thought about the matter when I was making the film. Films must be rather felt, but there are little feelings in recent films. “ Kiarostami says that maybe filmmakers have built up a kind of bad taste among viewers.” They have misled their tastes, “he says, and Kurosawa believes that maybe the offering of old films on laser disks could make viewers familiar with more healthy cinema.

Kurosawa then talks about the similarity between the opening scene of Madadyo and Kiarostami’s Where is the friend’s Home? “Apparently we have many things in common, “he observes; and Kiarostami once again stressed that Kurosawa is far more famous. And Kurosawa modestly tells Kiarostami that how he painted the shadows of things in Dodeskaden because he was not financially capable of waiting for a brighter day. “Both of us tend to be attached to our locations even after the end of filming our movies,” says Kurosawa. “Every time it is so sad to say goodbye to the protagonists of a film that’s finished.”

Both of the filmmakers agree that those who look for flaws in films deprives themselves the joy watching a film, “ My painting teacher used to tell me to look at the … [more]
akirakurosawa  abbaskiarostami  1993  film  filmmaking  andreitarkovsky  johncassavetes  satyajitray  shorehgolparian 
july 2016 by robertogreco
Akira Kurosawa to Ingmar Bergman: “A Human Is Not Really Capable of Creating Really Good Works Until He Reaches 80” | Open Culture
"Dear Mr. Bergman,

Please let me congratulate you upon your seventieth birthday.

Your work deeply touches my heart every time I see it and I have learned a lot from your works and have been encouraged by them. I would like you to stay in good health to create more wonderful movies for us.

In Japan, there was a great artist called Tessai Tomioka who lived in the Meiji Era (the late 19th century). This artist painted many excellent pictures while he was still young, and when he reached the age of eighty, he suddenly started painting pictures which were much superior to the previous ones, as if he were in magnificent bloom. Every time I see his paintings, I fully realize that a human is not really capable of creating really good works until he reaches eighty.

A human is born a baby, becomes a boy, goes through youth, the prime of life and finally returns to being a baby before he closes his life. This is, in my opinion, the most ideal way of life.

I believe you would agree that a human becomes capable of producing pure works, without any restrictions, in the days of his second babyhood.

I am now seventy-seven (77) years old and am convinced that my real work is just beginning.

Let us hold out together for the sake of movies.

With the warmest regards,

Akira Kurosawa"
akirakurosawa  ingmarbergman  age  aging  appreciation  1988  creativity  film  filmmaking  tessaitomioka 
july 2016 by robertogreco
[Watch]: Viggo Mortensen & Matt Ross On ‘Captain Fantastic’: Sundance | Deadline
"“Being a father.” That was director Matt Ross’s biggest influence in bringing Captain Fantastic to the screen. Best known as an actor who plays steely types such as tech exec Gavin Belson on HBO’s Silicon Valley and corrupt Mormon sect leader Alby Grant on Big Love, Ross was at the Sundance Film Festival with his sophomore directorial effort, this one about a counterculture dad of six who wrestles with returning to everyday society following his wife’s suicide. Viggo Mortensen, who knows a thing or two about playing dads in perplexing circumstances after A History of Violence and The Road, plays the title character here. In this clip from Deadline’s Sundance hub at the Samsung Studio, both Ross and Mortensen reflect on how fatherhood shaped the film. eOne acquired Captain Fantastic‘s U.K., Canada and Australia/New Zealand territories back in August. Bleecker Street will release the film this summer in the U.S. Today is the final day of the Sundance Film Festival."
viggomortensen  mattross  parenting  fatherhood  film  filmmaking  2016  captainfantastic  unschooling  education  schools  homeschool 
july 2016 by robertogreco
The Art Of Picture Taking — Vantage — Medium
"Q: A lot of artists still struggle with their creative process in terms of what comes first — the imagery or the concept. Can you describe your creative process for us? Which comes first for you?

A: Usually it’s a feeling or an atmosphere I want to express and I try to build a story around that. So I don’t remember if it’s the image or the idea first. But I like to have a free process and to discover things as I go along.

Q: You use the word “discover” to describe your creative process and your short film “The Art of Picture Taking” features a protagonist that you’ve described as “a wandering young man.” The idea of the “wanderer” is quite a prominent one in the image-making world. How much of your own image making is done through wandering?

A: Yes, most of it has to do with wandering and I like to film when I travel because the places are still new and untouched for the eyes. That’s what happened when I shot The Art Of Picture Taking in Seoul, I was only there for a few months. Often I will see a place I like and then I’ll plan to come back to it, or even write a scene that could take place in that location so I can film there.

Q: We noticed the “wandering young man” in the short film is using a Lomo LC-A+! Have you used LC-A+ yourself? Do you have a favorite Lomography product?

A: Yes, it was my own Lomo camera! It’s my favorite product too. I think it’s a great camera, a classic and it’s brought me a lot of joy. Unfortunately I’ve lost it a year ago in Paris. Perhaps someone else found it and is happy with it now.. Also, I’ve never tried it, but I’m very intrigued by the LomoKino.

Q: The LomoKino has a very unique photographic point of view on cinematics. And undoubtedly, there have been films with a photographic quality and photographs with a cinematic quality. What is your take on the interwoven nature of still and moving images? Do you apply photographic concepts and theories in your image making?

A: Film can do things that photography can’t do and the opposite is just as true. I’ve never really thought of this but I guess I enjoy street photography a lot, seeing people caught unaware in their everyday life, minute details that reveal themselves in the photographic instant, and there is no staging in this kind of photography, just the framing. But somehow “ordinary” reality can be even more dramatic. And when you have no money to make a film, it’s empowering to think this way, to realize that you don’t need an expensive set to make a good movie because there’s already a lot of dramatic potential out there.

Q: Indeed, this way of thinking is quite an empowering one — not allowing your creativity to dwindle due to lack of a blockbuster budget is certainly sage advice! Do you have any other advice for young and eager filmmakers and photographers out there?

A: Don’t listen to anyone. Just go and make your art.

Q: What are some projects that we can expect in the near future?

A: I’ve just finished two short documentaries, one called Who is Albert Fallen?, following friends of mine who have an electro band in Paris and are trying to make it. The other is called Memory, about an ex-factory-worker in Luxembourg who comes back to see the steel factory he worked at for 40 years that has now been turned into a creative hub. Other than that, I’m writing a play and I’m working on my first feature film!

Q: And last but not least, we’d love to hear where you draw your inspiration from! Are there any artists whom inspire you in your filmmaking practice?

A: Right now I love Patti Smith, Agnès Varda and Miranda July. I’ve spent almost a decade being taught about male artists, I’m trying to make up for lost time."
catherinedauphin  srg  photography  azinteimoori  lomography  lomo  2016  filmmaking  mumblecore  discovery  creativity  wandering 
february 2016 by robertogreco
Re-thinking reading on the Web — Truth Labs — Medium
"People have been reading and scrolling on the web longer than just about anything else! And at this point reading and scrolling (and the back button) should be respected as inherent attributes of the web (read: please stop scroll-jacking my websites).

Very early in the project we decided to preserve the natural document scroll and reading flow. We also established a small set of design principles that supported reading as the key tenet:

• Graphics should enhance, not displace the article text.
• Let readers read at their own pace.
• Use familiar design patterns for links and navigation.

Throughout the design process we found ourselves coming back to these principles often, both with the client and internally. There was a tendency to keep layering up the visuals so the reader could scan the article without actually reading it. We didn’t want to encourage that behavior so we focused on treating the graphics as supplements to rather than replacements for the copy."



"Putting it all together

After many rounds of iteration, finessing the details, and handful of fire drills, we’re proud to see our work out in the wild. In retrospect, we walked away with some key learnings:

Promote reading

The scroll interaction was something we prototyped meticulously upfront, and our test users found it to be intuitive.

We learned that in a situation where reading is the primary task, it’s best to let the user’s natural reading pace drive the visuals (as opposed to having the visuals drive the reading).

Use cinematic techniques

Designing for the web is a relatively new landscape. Because there are infinite approaches to solving a visual problem, it’s common to overlook tried and true techniques from more established mediums. We found that applying classic cinematic techniques enabled us to craft solid narratives.

Leverage real data

It was somewhat painful to find, massage and prep data for use in WebGL. We tried to “fake it” to save time, but ultimately came to terms with the fact that leveraging real data, no matter how tedious, always resulted in a better, weighty, respectable graphic. In the end, we learned it’s wise to start with the raw data rather than waste time trying to simulate it."
erikklimczak  reading  howweread  scrolling  2016  storyboarding  film  filmmaking  pacing  illustrations  matchcut  data  design  webdev  webgl  webdesign 
february 2016 by robertogreco
auteur theory filmmaking cinema
"Chris compares filmmaking to JAZZ,where the give and take of the collaborators takes a work beyond the individual’s intent, where the dance between the camera and the actors focuses each individual’s energy into something unanticipated and unique.

As Chris notes, many of his films like CHUNGKING EXPRESS (dir. Wong Kar-Wai) or PARANOID PARK (dir. Gus Van Sant):“There is little or no formal script: we take people we trust, put them in a safe space, and we shoot.”

In this HONG KONG TRILOGY, we used a process of finding the film by asking real people questions… a less AUTEUR way of looking at the world, and hopefully a more REAL and DEMOCRATIC one."
auteurtheory  film  filmmaking  christopherdoyle  chingkingexpress  wongkar-wai  paranoidpark  gusvansant  hongkongtrilogy  auteur 
february 2016 by robertogreco
MALIK on Vimeo
"part of the tribute series for mainline

dazeddigital.com/tribute

MALIK
director: abteen
producer: kay
cinematographer: isaac
editor: sergei
music: dj koze
shot entirely on GoPro"
gopro  documentary  abteenbagheri  youth  children  filmmaking  srg  edg  classidea  projectideas  lcproject  openstudioproject  film  video  sfsh 
february 2016 by robertogreco
Fanon 1 trailer on Vimeo
"'Finding Fanon' is the first part in a series of works by artists Larry Achiampong and David Blandy; inspired by the lost plays of Frantz Fanon, (1925-1961) a politically radical humanist whose practice dealt with the psychopathology of colonisation and the social and cultural consequences of decolonisation.

In the film, the two artists negotiate Fanon’s ideas, examining the politics of race, racism and the post-colonial, and how these societal issues affect their relationship.

Their conflict is played out through a script that melds found texts and personal testimony, transposing their drama to a junkyard houseboat at an unspecified time in the future. Navigating the past, present and future, Achiampong and Blandy question the promise of globalisation, recognising its impact on their own heritage.

'Finding Fanon' is supported by Arts Council England. With thanks to Hamish Mckenzie."

[Fanon 2
https://vimeo.com/138951543

"Finding Fanon 2, made by Larry Achiampong and David Blandy, uses the Grand Theft Auto 5 in-game video editor.

Finding Fanon 2 was commissioned by Brighton Digital Festival 2015, supported by Arts Council England.

The Finding Fanon series is inspired by the lost plays of Frantz Fanon, (1925-1961) a politically radical humanist whose practice dealt with the psychopathology of colonisation and the social and cultural consequences of decolonisation."]
frantzfanon  film  larryachiampong  davidblandy  gta  gta5  filmmaking  decolonization  colonization  postcolonialism  globalization  grandtheftauto 
december 2015 by robertogreco
Apple and Star Wars together explain why much of the world around you looks the way it does - Quartz
"One of the most effective critiques of the totalizing approach to urban design—the Darth-design of cities, if you will—was architecture critic, activist, and theorist Jane Jacobs. Towards the end of her bestselling 1962 critique of mid-century urban design, The Death and Life of Great American Cities, Jacobs recounts the number and diversity of the neighbors in the building where she worked. She reports:
“The floor of the building in which this book is being written is occupied also by a health club with a gym, a firm of ecclesiastical decorators, an insurgent Democratic party reform club, a Liberal party political club, a music society, an accordionists’ association, a retired importer who sells maté by mail, a man who sells paper and who also takes care of shipping the maté, a dental laboratory, a studio for watercolor lessons, and a maker of costume jewelry. Among the tenants who were here and gone shortly before I came in, were a man who rented out tuxedos, a union local and a Haitian dance troupe. There is no place for the likes of us in new construction. And the last thing we need is new construction.”

And added, in a forceful footnote: “No, the last thing we need is some paternalist weighing whether we are sufficiently noncontroversial to be admitted to subsidized quarters in a Utopian dream city.”

That there is little room for controversy or discord in the Death Star—amongst its legion of same-suited stormtroopers, say—may go without saying. But what of Apple?

It is clear, first of all, that the company’s success—for all the apparent imperiousness of Jobs—relied, and likely relies still, on discussion, disagreement, and diversity. Jobs himself was famously a stickler for regular “no-holds-barred” meetings in which, while his own leadership had to remain unchallenged, no other presumptions or suppositions were sacred. (Pixar’s irrepressible Alvy Ray Smith would be one of the only employees to challenge Jobs’ control of a whiteboard, part of a duel with Jobs in which dry-erase markers, presumably, stood in for sabers.)

Like the products themselves, however, Apple’s core identity relies on keeping disagreement and discord behind a tightly controlled façade. And sometimes even a tightly controlled interior; one of Jobs’ least successful management interventions on his return to Apple was a short-lived attempt to have all his many thousand employees wear the same, black, custom Issey Miyake clothing. To Jobs’ credit, he quickly withdrew the proposal—but it lived on in the many hundred black turtlenecks Miyake crafted for Jobs’ own, resulting use.

No, if there is something disturbing in the design of Apple’s own apparent Death Star, it is not so much in the company’s clearly successful internal operations, nor in its beautifully singular product range. Rather, it lies in the runaway result of this success; the way in which so many of our interactions with the world, and with each other, are now filtered through the efforts of a single, well-designed and Apple-authored interface.

And beyond well-intentioned, we might even say essential. Particularly given the disorder and predictable unpredictability of complex technological systems, we all crave, and need order. The first Star Wars shoot was so plagued with technical difficulties (and the related derision of the unionized British workforce on the Pinewood Studio lot) that more than one cast member observed that George Lucas appeared far more sympathetic to the authority and order of the Empire than the ragtag Rebel Alliance. Apple has thrived above all in the last two decades by offering the particular beauty that lies in order, organization, and simplicity, and in the predictable delight that results when something technical, unexpectedly, just works."



"We might start inside. A recent profile of Sir Jony Ive in the New Yorker by Ian Parker, “The Shape of Things to Come,” shifts seamlessly from the discussion of consumer objects to that of architecture. Ive, it is suggested, sees himself as an architect too. He finds it, he says, “a curious thing” that in design “we tend to compartmentalize, based on physical scale.” He is reported to assert that he has (in Parker’s words) “taught Foster’s architects something about the geometry of corners,” introducing a seamless, curved detail between wall and floor that now runs throughout the building’s interior.
Yet this detail, and its future life, points to what is in fact one of the main differences between design at the scale of consumer electronics, and that at the scale of architecture and the city.

Apple’s great success as a consumer-focused company is rooted in the one power a consumer has above all: choice. Apple’s products are ubiquitous, above all, because they are far better than what they compete with, a quality that comes precisely from the tight control that Apple exerts on them and their design. But, at the point we don’t like our device, we can—and will—buy a different and better one—from Apple, or from some as-yet-unimaginable competitor.

Yet it is in the nature of architecture that it offers no such choice—the more so the bigger it gets. We can, if we are lucky, sell a house we don’t like. But we can’t sell or dispose of the terrible building across the road. And architecture involves many more people than those who design it, or even pay for it. Myself, I keep thinking of the cleaning staff of the new Apple headquarters; it is for these people, above all, that the usual, clunky detail of wall-meeting-floor exists, with a skirting board to hide the edge of the floor-wax, and catch and disguise the dirt that escapes the polishers. One hopes a special, super-functional polishing device has been designed for them, that will seamlessly clean and feather the floor-wax as it slowly curves into the wall—but one fears that it has not. One thinks as well of Apple’s desk-bound employees, who, so as to preserve the clean lines of the building’s exterior, will not be able to open windows in their offices—despite the Bay Area’s preposterously perfect climate. (“That would just allow people to screw things up,” Jobs apparently declared.)

But here is where the design of products and buildings is most different. The particular conundrum solved by the best teams of architects and city-builders (including all of us as citizens) is how to balance a whole set of competing demands, physical, environmental, and social, against each other—including the demands of the powerful against the needs, and rights, of the powerless.

As we attempt to design 21st-century cities for an increasing landscape of uncertainty, this is an important lesson to remember. Instead of single, grand projects, the staying-power of a city depends on a million connections between its inhabitants, and the natural and technological systems that sustain them. Cities designed tabula rasa, as Jane Jacobs cogently characterized it a generation ago, lack this robust resilience. Instead, their monumental visions of order turn out to hide brittleness, fragility, and frequent catastrophe. Even the most seemingly ordered long-lived city-grid—Manhattan, Barcelona, even San Francisco—simply allows us to better negotiate what is, in reality, a riot of real-world diversity.

It is in this light, perhaps, that one might also examine Apple’s greatest points of corporate difficulty: the interface between the company’s tightly designed and integrated products, and the public software ecosystems it has developed in service of them, the App Store and the Mac App Store. To this architect, these places read a bit like a modernist cityscape; beautiful, elegant, even nice to visit—but very difficult to live in. Like such cities they are also—at least in the case of the Mac App Store—increasingly abandoned, as is usual, by those who can afford to leave.

And yet it is not really Apple that is entirely to blame. The revolution in architecture today—one where the world of screens and devices and the common infrastructure of our cities merge, overlap and combine—is much larger than even the enormous, careful company.

In an awkwardly received, hauntingly prescient diatribe while presenting the Oscar for Best Director in 1979, Francis Ford Coppola declared, “We’re on the eve of something that’s going to make the Industrial Revolution look like a small out-of-town tryout.” What Coppola saw was our world today: “a communications revolution that’s about movies and art and music and digital electronics and satellites, but above all, human talent.”

Steve Jobs’ Apple set out to help create this world—and has succeeded beyond our wildest dreams of the future. George Lucas hired Pixar’s founders, originally, to use technology to make the production of culture easier for himself and a cadre of directors. But Lucas’s digital editing system was quickly eclipsed by Apple’s own, far cheaper, Final Cut Pro—and then, of course, by the iPhones that put high-quality filmmaking and editing into all of our hands. In this, and much else, Apple has helped author a world much like that of Lucas’s far-off galaxy; where all of us are connected, and can tap into vast reserves of invisible power through the device we hold in our hands.

But as Apple’s reach extends into the city and world, into the public sphere as well as the private screen, we should do well to remember these hard-learned lessons of control and openness, hardness and softness, brittleness and resilience. After all, the only thing one can say for certain about a Death Star is that it unexpectedly explodes right before the ending."
apple  starwars  georgelucas  architecture  cities  design  stevejobs  nicholasdemonchaux  history  siliconvalley  filmmaking  urbanism  urbanplanning  control  predicatability  fragility  resilience  unpredicatability  hackers  hackability  jonyive  janejacobs  discussion  disagreement  friction  discord  serendipity  authority  cupertino  pixar  canon  openness  hardness  softness  brittleness  isolation  uncertainty 
december 2015 by robertogreco
The Department of the 4th Dimension
"The Department of the 4th Dimension is an award winning company that's dedicated to fostering a more inspired humanity through storytelling.

We partner with our clients to craft branded content and digital media experiences that are meaningful to their business and grow audiences.

Methodology

We innovate and engage audiences across a wide range of media: from local brands to Fortune 500 companies, from the size of a cell phone to the side of a skyscraper, and online branded content that has earned over a million plays with zero media dollars spent."
film  losangeles  storytelling  studios  lcproject  openstudioproject  media  filmmaking  digitalarts 
december 2015 by robertogreco
Three Popular Films by Jean-Pierre Gorin - From the Current - The Criterion Collection
"Jean-Pierre Gorin’s three Southern California movies are so militantly unclassifiable that terms like documentary or essay film seem as hopelessly out of sync with the recalcitrant and frequently exhilarating works themselves as a Marxist harangue in a Burger King. Movie criticism is ill equipped to deal with these ecstatic operations, which get high on their own cunning strategies.

How on earth did this Sorbonne-educated son of Jewish Trotskyites, onetime student of Althusser, Lacan, and Foucault, pre-1968 Marxist firebrand and partner in crime of Jean-Luc Godard wind up in Greater San Diego making these peculiarly all-American movies? Let’s just say that he followed his desire. “Many political people have self-conscious and proclaimed interests that they call revolutionary,” he explained to Danish filmmaker and critic Christian Braad Thomsen in a 1974 Jump Cut interview. “But they also have unconscious interests that can be completely reactionary, even if they are linked to the revolutionary interests. There comes the point when I say: ‘Man, blow your mind, try to dig into your own unconscious, try to find where your investment and your interest is.’” During their misunderstood Dziga Vertov Group period, Godard and Gorin were struggling to find a new, living definition of the political: over the years, Godard went increasingly macro, enlarging his sense of his own consciousness to the point where it covered the entire expanse of Western civilization; Gorin went micro, allowing his films and the people and places and contradictions that nourished them to speak in their own idiosyncratic voices. Poto and Cabengo (1980), Routine Pleasures (1986), and My Crasy Life (1992) are, on one level, vastly different experiences, each with its own peculiar frame of reference and line of aesthetic attack. Taken together, they represent an unofficial “language” trilogy, in which varying styles and modes of American speech ravish and are ravished in turn.

Gorin was invited to Southern California by painter, film critic, and teacher Manny Farber, when Farber was in the process of building a visual arts department at the University of California, San Diego. As Gorin put it to writer Lynne Tillman in 1988, “The meeting with Farber was a determining one. As determining, in a sense, as my encounter with Godard years ago. The reading of his film criticism gave me a very different key to American cinema than the one I used in France, a way to ground it in the culture and its language, to pry it away from its own mythology. But more importantly, it’s from reflecting on his painting, his main activity for years by the time I met him, that I learned the most.”

While he was scrutinizing a new landscape through new eyes, Gorin found the story of Grace and Virginia Kennedy, a pair of twins from nearby Point Loma who, according to the press, spoke in their own private language. “The Loch Ness monster had been nowhere in sight that year, and I suspect the journalists felt the twins would be a good substitute,” Gorin told Tillman. “They built up a case which reeked of Wild Child mystique.” Gorin realized instantly that there was no private language but rather “a patchwork of southern lingo spoken by their father and of the deformations imposed on the English language by their German-born mother.” His newfound American friend the producer–star programmer–California gentleman Tom Luddy suggested filmmaker Les Blank as a cameraman, and Gorin began his inquiry into something that “had been so completely misconstrued. It seemed like an eminently dramatic premise: two kids who moved and sounded like hummingbirds, who for years had been privately deciphering the world for each other, who did not know why they had suddenly become the object of so much attention.” Poto and Cabengo (the names by which the twins sometimes called each other) is not a “portrait” of Ginny and Grace and their family, or a “probing look at the strange phenomenon of idioglossia,” but a rhapsodic layering of elements and relations, filmed by Blank in singingly lyrical motion and color. The film can be examined from multiple angles, each as valid, not to mention exciting, as the next.

“Does anyone else use sound as a totally filmic weapon?” wrote Farber of Godard. The same could be said of Gorin’s fix on the spoken word in Poto and Cabengo, and throughout the trilogy, a matter of tireless ethnographic curiosity, slaphappy connoisseurship, and an immigrant intellectual’s ironically tinged boosterism of his new culture—in fact, the title of one of Godard’s finest and least-known works nicely sums up this side of Gorin’s cinematic enterprise: Puissance de la parole. In Poto and Cabengo, you can practically taste the filmmaker’s joy as he circles around the katzenjammerian speech patterns of Chris Kennedy, the raunchy vulgarity of her Hispanic neighbors, and Tom Kennedy’s depressed Georgia drawl, and then contrasts those voices with the squeaky-clean cadences of the speech therapists and linguists, perfectly enunciating every syllable of their expert opinions.

All three films are conversations—conversations between people and between those people and the unlikely landscapes in which they dwell, between cliché and reality, inside and outside, difference and repetition, sound and image, filmmaker and subject, body language and verbal language, and, supremely, between Gorin and himself as he continually revises his own position relative to both the movie and his adopted country. They are explorations and self-explorations, pinpointing and opening up all the inconvenient details and exceptions that short-circuit any final judgments. At first glance, we sophisticates may feel like we have the Kennedy household, Routine Pleasures’ Pacific Beach & Western railway crew, and My Crasy Life’s West Side S.O.S., Sons of Samoa, 32nd Street gangbangers all figured out. We are disabused of such notions almost instantaneously. Every rhetorical move is either jarred or knocked out of place by a countermove, and we are left with a cinematic organism in which nothing is frozen and everything is in ceaseless motion. I honestly can’t think of another movie that keeps tunneling through its own foundation as relentlessly as these three do, each stopping just short of a complete cave-in.

In Poto and Cabengo (and Routine Pleasures as well), the filmmaker’s voice-over squeezes some comedy out of the spectacle of an “ex-Marxist” immigrant fretting over the degree to which he is still French or already American. It’s easy, and slightly misleading, to become fixated on Gorin’s deadpan delivery of his stylized and allusive commentary, in which he borrows Farber’s wisecracking deflations and turns them on the film in general and himself in particular. In his writing, Farber found a language that was scintillating, thrillingly dense with metaphors, and utterly precise, disarming both the reader and any conventionally authoritative voices, be they academic, moralistic, corporate, or political. Gorin adapts Farber’s strategy to his own purposes in order to maintain a one-to-one relationship with his subjects and his audience. While the voice-over scores a few comic points here and there and maintains a nice surface tension, its principal purpose is utilitarian: to steer the film up, down, and sideways, and finally guide us to the more unsettling seriocomic state of affairs deep within the material. The gap between Tom and Chris Kennedy’s vision of their economic situation and the gruesome reality is terrifyingly wide, a real-life version of early movie comedy’s fixation on the gulf between aspiration and achievement. The only reasonable response to the strange sight of this “close-knit” family sitting around their cardboard hearth is to laugh, as they might just do were they to wander into a theater and get a load of themselves. This is not the comedy of cruelty but of extreme identification.

Gorin’s American movies are handmade productions that now speak to us in two tenses. Three decades and a “digital revolution” later, they are among the most provocative artifacts of the last moment when movies really were made by hand, and when, for a precious few (Gorin, Godard, Glauber Rocha, Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet, Robert Frank, Yvonne Rainer, Chantal Akerman), process was on an equal footing with product. As immediate, present-tense experiences, they are endlessly self-revealing, an array of clear aesthetic choices, made from a limited set of cinematic elements, combined, layered, pulled apart and put back together in different configurations to build a rich, winningly active surface texture in the mind of the viewer. They are rude and lovably inelegant movies, resisting any drift into sophistication or severity, and resembling nothing so much as the earliest sound productions of Walsh or Wellman as reimagined by a political firebrand who has just escaped from the prison house of his own theories.

But above all else, these are “popular” films, in the French sense of the term—populaire, or “of the people.” In other words, they begin and end at ground level, where life is lived out from instant to instant. Gorin wrote, “My Crasy Life has at its core a commitment, radical in its simplicity: to respect the voice of its ‘subjects’”—the voice and, by extension, the worldview and experiential horizon line. This can be said of all three movies.

In the cinema of Jean-Pierre Gorin, there is no such thing as a case study or a type. Just us, all in the same boat, whether we care to know it or not."
jean-pierregorin  film  potoandcabengo  2012  kentjones  sandiego  california  mannyfarber  jean-lucgodard  filmmaking  srg  mycrasylife  routinepleasures  1986  1992  1980  lacan  foucault  louisalthusser  michelfoucault  althusser  lesblank  tomluddy  lynnetillman  longbeach  ucsd  glauberrocha  jean-mariestraub  danièlehuillet  robertfrank  yvonnerainer  chantalakerman  babettemangolte  raymonddurgnat  sonsofsomoa  ethnography  samoa  gangs  margaretmead  losangeles 
november 2015 by robertogreco
BUREAU of CREATIVE WORKS by Mike Ambs — Kickstarter
[See also: http://www.bureauofcreative.works/ ]

"A year-long short film collective. Each month a new filmmaker will release a fully original short film exclusively to supporters."



"WHAT YOU'RE FUNDING

You're helping 12 different filmmakers create 12 original short films over the following year.

80% of the funds go directly towards the production budgets, the other 20% is split between Kickstarter / Amazon / VHX fees, and then operating cost, ie, The BUREAU helping to promote and distribute these films to you, the supporters!

THE FILMS & ALL THAT COMES WITH THEM

As a backer, you might be most excited about the 12 short films — which we can understand — but!, your support also gives you access to materials created throughout each film’s production, things like: storyboards, scripts, behind the scenes footage, insight into a range of low-budget filmmaking techniques, etc.

WHY THE BUREAU IS IMPORTANT

“Artists shouldn’t be making art on the side, it should be their job. We need to re-train audiences who’ve grown used to the free YouTube model that shorts are worth paying for.”

The above quote is from the immensely talented Don Hertzfeldt, director of ‘World of Tomorrow’ and 'It's Such a Beautiful Day', and we’re sharing it here because it so perfectly articulates the sentiment and ambitions behind The BUREAU.

From an audience perspective: we’re bringing together a highly engaged community of people who love unique stories, and, most importantly, a community that doesn't simply curate the hard-work of other artists after-the-fact, but instead, a community that directly contributes to the earliest stages of creative work.

From a filmmaker perspective: we’re creating a consistent and flexible platform that supports unique short films. Short films that otherwise might never exist. Not only is this platform ongoing, it directly connects filmmakers with their audience."



"WHAT THE BUREAU DOES

The BUREAU has long list of responsibilities, all of which we take quite seriously - this project connects audiences with filmmakers, and we’ve gone to great lengths to ensure that relationship is a healthy and exciting one for everyone involved.

Seek out talented filmmakers. Bring together a highly engaged audience. Provide financial support for filmmakers to produce original short films. Distribute these films directly to supporters (subscribers). Highlight the importance and value in supporting creative work. Provide 'a safe place to build' for filmmakers. In other words, we aren't giving notes, we aren’t tweaking ideas. We provide the financial means and the creative-cover for filmmakers to make truly original and unique short films. Helping filmmakers take risk they might not otherwise be able to take. "
film  funding  filmmaking  bureauofcreativeworks 
october 2015 by robertogreco
Hayao Miyazaki - The Essence of Humanity - YouTube
[via: http://kottke.org/15/10/what-makes-a-miyazaki-film-a-miyazaki-film

"Lewis Bond takes a look at the work of master filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki and what sets him apart from other makers of animated movies, including his work's realism and empathy."]
animation  hayaomiyazaki  humanism  humanity  filmmaking  storytelling  lewisbond  empathy  realism  emotions  reality  unpredicatablity  subtlety  anime  manga  expressiveness  expressions 
october 2015 by robertogreco
Manny Farber: In memory | Interviews | Roger Ebert
"Manny Farber has died. The great iconoclast of American film criticism was 91. He coined the term "underground film," contrasted "termite art" with "white elephant art" in a way that started you thinking about movies in such terms, and once described the auteur theory thusly (I quote from memory): "A bunch of guys standing around trying to catch some director pushing art up into the crevices of dreck."

Never known to the great masses of filmgoers, he started reviewed movies in The New Republic in the 1940s, The Nation in the 1950s, many other magazines in the 1960s, and finally settled at Artforum magazine in 1967, where he referred to the film I wrote as "Beyond the Volleyballs." He published one collection of his reviews, first titled Negative Space, later expanded with Manny Farber on the Movies.

He was an advocate of smaller, tougher, moxier movies. "White elephant art," he said, referred to vast and vacuous studio productions that look big and can't be ignored, but contain little of real interest. In contrast, Wikipedia quotes him: "Termite-tapeworm- fungus-moss art goes always forward eating its own boundaries, and, like as not, leaves nothing in its path other than the signs of eager, industrious, unkempt activity."

He appreciated that. He liked movies that forged ahead in their own obsessive way, looking to neither side, intent at arriving at no place more grandiose than their endings. Even before the auteur critics of France, he championed such muscular American directors as Howard Hawks. Once when Russ Meyer and I were in San Diego, working on a screenplay, we had lunch with Manny and the love of his life, Patricia Patterson. He regarded the King of the Nudies with a quizzical, not unfriendly, grin, and said "So you make the whole movie yourself, by hand?"

Although many film critics read and loved Farber, most of us knew only vaguely of the other side of his work. He was a highly-regarded painter, once referred to by the New York Times as the finest still life painter of his time. I went to one of his exhibitions, and thought I saw Termite Art in practice. He often took an overhead view of an assortment of odd little objects, seen against a semi-abstract field. There was wit and playfulness in everything he painted.

I met Manny and Patricia for the first time at the 1972 Venice Film Festival, where, typically for Manny, he had arrived not having bothered to tell anyone he was coming, or obtaining any credentials. There they were, getting off the vaporetto at the Lido pier, and looking around for the festival. How did we know one another? We may have been introduced by Michael Kutza, director of the Chicago festival. I took him to the press office, and announced, "You must give this man a pass because he is the most important film critic in America." My word carried no weight, other than getting the Farber name passed along to the festival director, who knew of Farber and came bustling out apologizing for "misplacing" his application.

At Venice, we spent a lot of time with John Gillet of London's National Film Theater, sitting in beach cafes talking about nothing I can now remember, other than Bobby Fischer and the world chess championship then being played. We had a little portable set and once or twice played through the games from the daily paper. I remember one expedition into Venice along with the Yugoslavian director Dusan Makavejev and his wife. We landed at a pizzeria in Piazza San Giacomo, where it became clear that Makavejev fit safely in the termite category.

Manny and Patricia went at Telluride one year, where I had been asked to interview James Stewart onstage about his Anthony Mann Westerns. I told Telluride directors Tom Luddy and Bill Pence that this was a mistake, because Farber had all but put the Stewart/Mann films on the map of critical praise. Manny took my place. I wish I had a transcript. My memory is that his oblique, idiosyncratic questions were unlike anything Stewart had ever been asked before by anyone, and he was greatly amused, even challenged, in replying to them. Farber created a mood in which the two men, within a decade of the same age, were conspirators.

In addition to films, Farber was a critic of art, books, music, anything. Ken Tucker at ew.com says he has this Farber quote taped to his wall: from "I get a great laugh from artists who ridicule the critics as parasites and artists manqués — such a horrible joke. I can't imagine a more perfect art form, a more perfect career than criticism. I can't imagine anything more valuable to do."

Farber (born 1917) died Aug. 17 in San Diego, where for many years he was a professor at the University of California at San Diego. If you have never read Farber, as many have not, Negative Space is in print, and it is never too late to start."
mannyfarber  2008  rogerebert  film  filmmaking  criticism  aureurtheory 
august 2015 by robertogreco
Aaron Stewart-Ahn Talks His 25-Year Relationship with Wim Wenders’ Until the End of the World | The Talkhouse Film
"It’s the kind of filmmaking endeavor one only tries when one has made two back-to-back masterpieces such as Paris, Texas and Wings of Desire and one has just enough leverage to even try realizing a film that’s unprecedented, batshit crazy and in love of its pursuit of the epic as much as the possibilities of cinema.

But, for me, that grand vision wasn’t fulfilled in the movie I saw. Something was missing, clumsy, off-key. My love for the movie was qualified, something I kept private. I was certain there was more there, but the Internet that existed then couldn’t fulfill my curiosity about a narrative larger than the film itself, about how it came into being and what happened along the way. This other movie became a dream, something to pursue, a key to a door I couldn’t open. And sometimes I wonder if this isn’t responsible for the profound, unceasing love I had for something so imperfect.

As an example of how information about films used to move: it wasn’t until the next millennium that I discovered there was a director’s cut of Until the End of the World. At some point, I was given an Italian DVD of the director’s cut, this version of the film I’d always dreamed about, but could not bring myself to watch it. It didn’t seem fair to the movie’s spirit to do it that way. I had to hold out, wait for the day to see it projected in a movie theater, turn it into some sort of pilgrimage. For more than half of my life, I lived with this movie only in my head, with no copy, no way of watching it. Only as I write this do I realize how strongly it affected me. It was something more than a movie: a séance, vision, prophecy, a call of longing that, I can admit, changed my life. And somehow decades went by with that faint hope, but no opportunity to see it in a theater.

Twenty-four years later I have finally seen the director’s cut of Until the End of the World. I’m now certain it’s a kind of a masterpiece. It has redrawn this map I have of life running parallel with movies. I can see how we got from film prints to live-streaming cellphones. At five hours in length, it is overwhelmingly audacious to the point of leaving you with an exasperated, exhausted grin. Nothing else has ever been made like it, and cinema is now old enough that nothing will ever be made like it again. The whole world is inside it, a broken ladder leading to who we are today."



"It’s a funny thing to admit that a film can change your life, maybe because more of them ought to and that’s what we’re truly fearful of admitting. A few days ago, on a different sleepless night, here in the future, I watched Alejandro Jodorowsky on a digital video direct from a hotel room in Santiago, Chile pleading that, at 86 years old, he was doing everything he could to fight against the death of auteur cinema, despite the pain in his bones, and how movies ought to change someone’s life. It’s a terrifying thought, one that leaves me ashamed, because I don’t think I’m brave enough to believe that filmmaking can do that, and most of these days I am convinced auteurism is dead, that this film was one of the last great auteurist movies.

But a few years after watching Until the End of the World, trapped in a small U.S. town next to a military base, working as a teenage dishwasher in a Chinese restaurant with no college prospects, I read an interview with Wim Wenders in which his advice to the young people of America was to get a passport. A few months later, I left the U.S. and didn’t return for eight years.

I admit now that a music video I directed in 2008 was essentially my attempt to reverse engineer or shamelessly rip off Until the End of the World. Our small film crew traveled circled the globe in two weeks. I had to comprehend in my own small way if filmmaking was that limitless.

I know these things are directly related, and I don’t want to admit it. But yeah, a movie can change your life, and I left that small town, went everywhere, my world opened up, and I met people all over the world, heard their stories, even once saw kangaroos outside an abandoned video store in Western Australia, and I’m so goddamn grateful for it."
aaronstewart-ahn  2015  film  wimwenders  untiltheendioftheworld  1999  digital  solveigdommartin  sciencefiction  scifi  filmmaking  1991  auteurism  auteurtheory 
august 2015 by robertogreco
Gopro Cinema | booktwo.org
"Because like everyone but the really good people I don’t blog enough anymore, here is an honest-to-god blog post about an idea that’s not really there yet, but I keep thinking about.

Three takes on non-human photography, on a spectrum"



"As wiser people have pointed out, human-animal relationships provide an interesting viewpoint on human-technological relationships. What happens when we free the camera from the eye, and thus from anthropocentrism?"
jamesbridle  gopro  cameras  animals  multispecies  aesthetics  pov  video  film  filmmaking  leviathan  newaesthetic  jacquestati  playtime  streetview  googlestreetview  photography  videography  cinematography  sweetgrass  sensoryethnographylab  human-animalrelations  human-animalrelationships  pets  farms  luciencastaing-taylor  vérénaparavel 
july 2015 by robertogreco
Four Lessons About Pan-Africanism Today from Cecile Emeke's #Strolling -
"Cecile Emeke is taking the world by storm. A UK-based filmmaker, she has been capturing the attention of many through videos such as, “Fake Deep” and her web series, “Ackee & Saltfish,” which, in my opinion, is the best thing to hit YouTube since Issa Rae’s “Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl.” But her mini-documentary series #Strolling is not one to miss. From the UK to France and onward to other countries, Cecile has been using her camera to capture the unfiltered musings of Black millennials to connect “the scattered and untold stories of the Black/African diaspora.”

Here are four things #Strolling shows about diasporic reconnection today.

1. We are going to learn to listen and speak in MULTIPLE languages.

Cecile’s series began in the UK, but she’s on the move. Right now she’s highlighting the voices of our Francophone siblings in France, and that means we’re going to use the French term for these instances of uninhibited streams of black consciousness: flâner.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3h3-sOFnLYY

Because here’s the thing: People of African descent are EVERYWHERE, and each place carries nuances and subtleties that do not translate exactly from one language to another. Even if our experiences are similar, they’re not the same. That’s where our magic lies. So sometimes that means we can’t use the same terms. Have you ever heard of “Fatou”? Learn a lesson from Gaëlle and Christelle [https://twitter.com/crystallmess ].

2. We will make room for all of our stories.

Diaspora isn’t just displacement. It also showcases dual (or multiple) rooted-ness. There are many reasons why we’ve each ended up where we are. Each one of those routes has its history, and each matters. We’re going to talk about slavery, colonialism, immigration, etc. as we navigate home in more than one way. We can’t always just privilege the African American slavery narrative, and the American experience cannot always adequately capture the experience of our siblings, as Fanta [https://twitter.com/littleglissant ] lays out.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fy0Uid9afM8

We’re also not going to ignore some of our elephants in the room, one of them being mental health. Listen to Simone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWmsZf4bBXo

3. We will be free and our freedom doesn’t have to be “respectable.”

Respectability politics is a real thing. Depending on who you are or where you’re at, that might be the hustle. Do you. But “respectability” is not the end goal. Our end goal is to create the space to become the most free version of ourselves. We are a constellation of dispersed dreamers, each of us connected by our inherent right to define ourselves in any number of ways and for any number of reasons that we, as respective individuals and as broader collectives, desire. Our gaze is and will be our own. If you don’t believe me, check Rianna‘s [https://twitter.com/xaymacans ] meditations.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okAofXZppTE

And if you’re still not convinced, Kevin [https://twitter.com/Kevinmorosky ] will remind you why your addiction to boxes won’t work in your interest.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d0k9pCdPK4Q

4. We will tolerate absolutely no f*ckboys!

Yep, that’s right. Just watch Anne [https://twitter.com/FrenchHeaux ] lay it out below.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5qyXZ46qBw

Today’s Pan-Africanism is going to be unabashedly feminist. Bringing the global diaspora together is not just about Black representation. We’re also going to unlearn the mechanisms we’ve inherited that separated us in the first place. Does that include racism? Yes. But we’re also going to address patriarchy. Strolling showcases how truly effortless it is to highlight the stories Black women, such as Vanessa [https://twitter.com/scarlet_voice ], tell in order to talk about ourselves as women and as Black people.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnUYUczAhAM

But strolling also highlights how Black men must hold themselves to that same standard. You better be bout that bell hooks life for Black liberation for more than just the booty. Abe [https://twitter.com/abefeels ] gets it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7aAIAhHH1U "
cecileemeke  2015  pan-africanism  strolling  diversity  colonialism  migration  immigration  diaspora  africandiaspora  sexuality  respectabilitypolitics  bellhooks  feminism  patricarchy  blackness  blackwomen  gender  film  filmmaking 
june 2015 by robertogreco
INTERVIEWS - Black Girls Talking
"Creating a space to show films which document the future from a non-western, non-white and queer perspective, that was the desire behind THE FUTURE WEIRD a film screening series co-founded by Derica Shields and Megan Eardley that explores experimental, speculative and sci-fi films from Africa, the Global South or directed by people of color. We discussed this project with Derica Shields, as well as the concept of what is weird, and whether the future should be saved. — interviewed by Fanta"



"SHIELDS: Weird means unruly, uncontained, and situated outside of the mainstream, or at an awkward angle to it. Weird is the creative invention of the marginalised majority. It’s like, people from populations who are exposed to destitution and premature death and organised abandonment are making things. I’m not trying to say that every black, brown, woman or queer filmmaker is from an abject social position, but currently our systems of recognition still fail to register black, brown, queer, trans work as work, or art as art, or thinking as thinking. With The Future Weird I want people to get in a room and talk about the work itself, not just to “celebrate” it in this liberal way which is like a pat on the head, but to say “hey we recognise your art/work/thinking and we are here to talk and think about it.”

The word weird also invites invention and reimagination rather than acceptance of the terms already on offer. Weird means an end to bargaining for inclusion on other people’s terms, and in turn, struggling towards your own terms for art, thought, politics, prosperity…. As a younger person I was definitely weird, but I as I got older I increasingly caved to the discipline of fancy universities, I stopped being weird, which meant that I stopped demanding what seemed impossible. But imagining and then demanding what seems impossible is so powerful, especially when our world is so inadequate and deadly."
dericashields  futurism  scifi  sciencefiction  2014  afrofuturism  futureweird  weird  film  filmmaking 
may 2015 by robertogreco
Black Women Directors
"Black Women Directors was created in 2015 by photographer and cultural producer Danielle A. Scruggs as an online resource dedicated to highlighting and celebrating the work of self-identified women filmmakers of Black/African descent across the Diaspora."
film  women  daniellescruggs  tumblr  filmmaking  blackness 
may 2015 by robertogreco
"Girlhood" Film review - Black Girls Talking
"In Sciamma’s film there is a constant battle between the director’s desire to fictionalize and fantasize (which gives us the best scenes) and her desire to document, to be realistic and authentic, which trumps the other impulse and gives us the clichéd, rehashed tropes, images and dialogue. The greatest scenes are those where the director stops controlling the way the characters talk, lets the camera roll and observes the actresses improvising, so that the characters come to life as they interact with each other. These girls who are unable to live their girlhood publicly (because men! because society!) take refuge in a hotel room to drink, sing loudly to Rihanna and talk. The most radical move would have been to stay in that hotel room. I would watch a 3-hour movie that was a succession of static shots showing black girls talking shit, drinking, sleeping, and talking again until exhaustion. There is so much to explore, so much to say and imagine. It would be vertiginous and formally daring.

I do believe that only a black woman can direct this film, because it requires a certain empathy and therefore knowledge, which most people don’t have when it comes to telling stories about black women. Empathy demands patience, a listening ear and attentive eye. Though I was really moved by Sciamma’s desire to center the lives of black girls because she had also observed the violent absence of black female characters in French cinema, Girlhood is not enough."

[via: http://cecileemeke.tumblr.com/post/119623802527/abderrahmane-sissako-in-sciammas-film-there-is

Also noting that Cecile Emeke’s Stolling series and Ackee & Saltfish are very much what is solicited above.]
célinesciamma  film  girlhood  carefreeblackgirls  2014  power  improvisation  cecileemeke  women  gender  blackness  filmmaking  fanta  fantasylla 
may 2015 by robertogreco
Uganda’s Tarantino and his $200 action movies - BBC News
"A Ugandan film company that makes low-budget action movies in the slums has found a cult following online - one US fan liked their films so much, he abandoned New York to become an action movie star in Kampala."



"Isaac Nabwana, the film director and brains behind Ramon Productions, was not fazed by the unexpected arrival. "I asked him, why didn't he call me? He said: 'I am a friend, I had to reach you.' That's when I realised that he's a true friend," he says. Nabwana offered his visitor some tea, and they spoke for five hours.

"I thought I was going to meet someone like myself - a little crazy with a camera and some friends - and very quickly I realised this is the real deal," says Hofmanis.

He had arrived in "Wakaliwood", where over the past decade, self-taught film maker Nabwana has shot more than 40 low-budget action films. He is not sure how much each one costs to make, but guesses it might be around $200 (£130). "It is passion that really makes a movie here," Nabwana says.

The volunteer cast and crew source props wherever they can. The green screen is a piece of cloth bought at the market, draped over a wall. The camera crane is made from spare tractor parts - Dauda Bissaso, one of the regular actors, is a mechanic and builds all the heavy gear and weapons. "He's just a genius with a blowtorch, he makes everything," says Hofmanis. Another key member of the team is Bruce U, a Bruce Lee fan who choreographs the fight scenes and runs a kung fu school for the children of Wakaliga.

To recreate gunshot injuries, they use free condoms from the local health clinic, filled with fake blood - they burst quite realistically. They used to be filled with real animal blood, but when one of the actors got sick with brucellosis, a disease passed on from cows, they switched to food colouring.

Fake blood is needed in vast quantities because the films are violent - but in a cartoonish way, and quite unlike the real violence Nabwana witnessed growing up during Uganda's 1981-86 civil war. "I don't put that in my movies, what I saw in the past," he says. "I include comedy - there was no comedy in the violence which I witnessed."

His cinematic hero is Chuck Norris, although he also likes Rambo and The Expendables. Hofmanis, on the other hand, compares him to directors like Guillermo del Toro, Robert Rodriguez and Martin Scorsese - "in terms of creativity and what they're contributing to cinema"."



"Unable to find a distributor, Nabwana came up with an ingenious solution: the actors and crew work for nothing, but get to keep half the profits from any DVDs they sell. "We do man-to-man, door-to-door all over the country to sell them," he says. The films can sell for up to 3,000 shillings - about $1 - but the team only has a window of about a week before they are pirated. They sometimes wear full costume to maximise sales."

[See also:
http://wakaliwood.com/

“WAKALIWOOD : Home of Ramon Film Productions”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfvXLtZtLrQ

“Who Killed Captain Alex: Uganda's First Action Movie (English Subtitles & Video Joker) - Wakaliwood”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEoGrbKAyKE

“The New Wave of Ultra-Violent Ugandan DIY Action Cinema: Wakaliwood” (Vice)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sy0OOVTmsJI ]
isaacnabwana  uganda  film  filmmaking  2015  vibekevenema  africa  alanhofmanis  entertainment  kampala  ramonfilmproductions  wakaliga  wakaliwood  ramonproductions  lcproject  openstudioproject  classideas  projectideas 
may 2015 by robertogreco
What Hollywood Can Teach Us About the Future of Work - NYTimes.com
"I was there as a “technical adviser”: The movie involved some financial events that I’ve reported on, and the filmmakers wanted to ask me questions as they set up their scenes. But I spent much of the day asking questions of my own, trying to figure out something that mystified me as the day went on: Why was this process so smooth? The team had never worked together before, and the scenes they were shooting that day required many different complex tasks to happen in harmony: lighting, makeup, hair, costumes, sets, props, acting. And yet there was no transition time; everybody worked together seamlessly, instantly. The set designer told me about the shade of off-­white that he chose for the walls, how it supported the feel of the scene. The costume designer had agonized over precisely which sandals the lead actor should wear. They told me all this, but they didn’t need to tell one another. They just got to work, and somehow it all fit together.

This approach to business is sometimes called the “Hollywood model.” A project is identified; a team is assembled; it works together for precisely as long as is needed to complete the task; then the team disbands. This short-­term, project-­based business structure is an alternative to the corporate model, in which capital is spent up front to build a business, which then hires workers for long-­term, open-­ended jobs that can last for years, even a lifetime. It’s also distinct from the Uber-­style “gig economy,” which is designed to take care of extremely short-­term tasks, manageable by one person, typically in less than a day.

With the Hollywood model, ad hoc teams carry out projects that are large and complex, requiring many different people with complementary skills. The Hollywood model is now used to build bridges, design apps or start restaurants. Many cosmetics companies assemble a temporary team of aestheticians and technical experts to develop new products, then hand off the actual production to a factory, which does have long-­term employees. (The big studios, actually, work the same way: While the production of the movie is done by temps, marketing and distribution are typically handled by professionals with long-­term jobs.)

Our economy is in the midst of a grand shift toward the Hollywood model. More of us will see our working lives structured around short-­term, project-­based teams rather than long-­term, open­-ended jobs. There are many reasons this change is happening right now, but perhaps the best way to understand it is that we have reached the end of a hundred-­year fluke, an odd moment in economic history that was dominated by big businesses offering essentially identical products. Competition came largely by focusing on the cost side, through making production cheaper and more efficient; this process required businesses to invest tremendous amounts in physical capital — machines and factories — and then to populate those factories with workers who performed routine activities. Nonmanufacturing corporations followed a similar model: Think of all those office towers filled with clerical staff or accountants or lawyers. That system began to fray in the United States during the 1960s, first in manufacturing, with the economic rise of Germany and Japan. It was then ripped apart by Chinese competition during the 2000s. Enter the Hollywood model, which is far more adaptable. Each new team can be assembled based on the specific needs of that moment and with a limited financial commitment."

[Compare to: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/29/business/yourmoney/29pixar.html?pagewanted=all
and http://www.cityofsound.com/blog/2013/10/departments-to-studios.html

This comparison noted here:
https://twitter.com/rogre/status/597978757912137731
https://twitter.com/rogre/status/597979986910322689 ]
2015  hollywoodmodel  projects  teams  work  howwework  adamdavidson  multidisciplinary  interdisciplinary  transdisciplinary  film  filmmaking  hollywood 
may 2015 by robertogreco
Soy Cuba, O Mamute Siberiano - YouTube
"Documentário sobre o excelente filme "Soy Cuba".

No início dos anos 60, o famoso diretor soviético Mikhail Kalatozov, junto com uma equipe de 200 pessoas, filmou em Cuba a superprodução "Soy Cuba". Este filme que pretendia ser uma poderosa arma de propaganda para divulgar a revolução cubana foi ignorado logo após sua estréia em Havana e Moscou e, conseqüentemente, ficou desconhecido pelo publico no Ocidente até sua redescoberta nos anos 90 pelos produtores norte-americanos Martin Scorsese e Francis Ford Coppola. O documentário revela um momento chave na história mundial e na história do cinema através dos depoimentos dos atores e técnicos."

[See also: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0436784/
"This film examines the creation and exhibition of the propaganda film I Am Cuba, a Soviet/Cuban collaboration unknown in the West until the 1990s." ]

[via: https://twitter.com/johnny_ripper/status/580960283079868417 ]

[See also: https://pinboard.in/u:robertogreco/b:fc763748c8fd ]
cuba  documentary  filmmaking  towatch  2005  vicenteferraz  soycuba 
march 2015 by robertogreco
'White God' Director on Unleashing 250 Dogs on Budapest a | Indiewire
"Q: Can you tell me about the logistics of working with the dogs? There were 200, correct?

A: 250. It was a huge process. On the one hand, everybody thought, Kornél, you can't do this movie without CGI. And I thought no, my main conception was no CGI, no pure breed dogs. Just mixed breeds, mostly from the dog pound. Because I believe in equality, I didn't want to illustrate it as a human. I wanted to show what an animal feels without drawing that through a computer. It's really against the soul of this movie. Then I found two amazing people, Teresa Miller and Árpád Halász, the two lead trainers. Teresa was the trainer for the hero dogs, and Árpád was for the crowd, the bunch. And what they do is amazing. They used a totally new method for that, I can't remember what it's called....

Q: Positive reinforcement?

A: Exactly, yes. That's so great, and easily forgotten. The dogs felt they were playing. It's a dramatized nature movie, somehow. We gave lots of freedom for the animals. I don't like most animal movies because the animals [feel] dead. They follow orders with lots of fear of the trainer. What were are doing was just the opposite. Logistically, we had half a year of training time. We had a very special method for shooting: one week shooting, one week rehearsing. We built a kind of town in the countryside where we could rehearse, because you cannot block locations in the city. And for me, personally, it was like therapy. I forgot how it was to be close to animals. How much patience and how much time you need, and concentration and curiosity. I have an adult control freak attitude. The dogs taught me a lot.

Q: What did they teach you, exactly?

A: Curiosity, patience, and to change perspective. Not just using my perspective as the truth. It also taught me a lot of positive things as a father. I started to use positive reinforcement with my children, which is much better."

[via: http://morethanhumanlab.tumblr.com/post/114538083685/white-god-director-on-unleashing-250-dogs-on ]
dogs  animals  film  filmmaking  unpredictablity  messiness  whitegod  kornélmundruczó  interviews  multispecies  human-animalrelations  human-animalrelationships  perspective  pov  truth  behavior  mutts  authenticity 
march 2015 by robertogreco
First and Final Frames on Vimeo
"What can we learn by examining only the first and final shot of a film? This video plays the opening and closing shots of 55 films side-by-side. Some of the opening shots are strikingly similar to the final shots, while others are vastly different--both serving a purpose in communicating various themes. Some show progress, some show decline, and some are simply impactful images used to begin and end a film.
MUSIC: "Any Other Name" by Thomas Newman
Films used (in order of appearance):
The Tree of Life 00:00
The Master 00:09
Brokeback Mountain 00:15
No Country for Old Men 00:23
Her 00:27
Blue Valentine 00:30
Birdman 00:34
Black Swan 00:41
Gone Girl 00:47
Kill Bill Vol. 2 00:53
Punch-Drunk Love 00:59
Silver Linings Playbook 01:06
Taxi Driver 01:11
Shutter Island 01:20
Children of Men 01:27
We Need to Talk About Kevin 01:33
Funny Games (2007) 01:41
Fight Club 01:47
12 Years a Slave 01:54
There Will be Blood 01:59
The Godfather Part II 02:05
Shame 02:10
Never Let Me Go 02:17
The Road 02:21
Hunger 02:27
Raging Bull 02:31
Cabaret 02:36
Before Sunrise 02:42
Nebraska 02:47
Frank 02:54
Cast Away 03:01
Somewhere 03:06
Melancholia 03:11
Morvern Callar 03:18
Take this Waltz 03:21
Buried 03:25
Lord of War 03:32
Cape Fear 03:38
12 Monkeys 03:45
The World According to Garp 03:50
Saving Private Ryan 03:57
Poetry 04:02
Solaris (1972) 04:05
Dr. Strangelove 04:11
The Astronaut Farmer 04:16
The Piano 04:21
Inception 04:26
Boyhood 04:31
Whiplash 04:37
Cloud Atlas 04:43
Under the Skin 04:47
2001: A Space Odyssey 04:51
Gravity 04:57
The Searchers 05:03
The Usual Suspects 05:23
Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use."
beginnings  ends  film  video  sidebyside  via:frankchimero  editing  filmmaking 
march 2015 by robertogreco
How Adam Curtis' film "Bitter Lake" will change everything you believe about news - Boing Boing
"The acclaimed British documentary filmmaker has released his latest film in unusual, forward-thinking circumstances."



"A new type of understanding emerges as a result of the form itself, an emotional, existential sensation of being present in the effects of the West's foreign affairs. There are also jokes, and audacious music choices, history underscored by Nine Inch Nails, Kanye West, Burial, and droning synth film scores by Clint Mansell. The implications are astonishing, the effect verges on the surreal: vivid, banal, beautiful, and constantly giving rise to elusive new connections in your mind between sound and image. Although any history book can give you some of the same information that’s not the point. What I came away with watching the film was a haunted sensation, a novelistic reality, one in which I couldn’t forget its images, in which suddenly I saw an aspect to war that is often obscured in news; an emotional dimension.

We do little examination of the filmmaking techniques and formalism that constitutes television news, one of the dominant global experiences for nearly a century. Media examination of how news is made tends to focus on institutions and individuals, as the Brian Williams and Bill O'Reilly scandals demonstrate. The focus of analysis is personality, celebrity, and memory; which isn’t all that different from a network anchor’s stated role.


But this means we never engage in discourse about the expectations of the aesthetics and form taken of how we watch news. The editing techniques embraced by news corporations are themselves a kind of power structure that prioritizes inattention. We prioritize the celebrity of Williams or O'Reilly instead of the collective failures of corporate news media, whose compliance with lies planted by the Bush administration contributed to our involvement in Iraq.

While it’s common knowledge that television news prioritizes soundbites, this same editorial process also reduces footage into optical bites. An image must be watched at length to be understood, but the very form of TV news requires it's cut down to its most reductive. As a result, the montage that dominates the cliched, internationally adopted television news format maximalizes the most shocking images of conflict and drama. It’s the geopolitical equivalent of reality tv producers getting their performers drunk and letting the cameras roll, more Real World: Road Rules than The March of Time.

What ends up on the cutting room floor (or at least deleted from the digital bin) is understanding and narrative. Explaining in this great interview, Curtis offers the idea that “…television is really one long construction of a giant story out of fragments of recorded reality from all over the world that is constantly added to every day.”"



"Curtis’ work is often criticized on the basis of how reductive his history is or how he’s retreading conspiracy theories. As can be seen in the interactions on his exceptional blog, conspiracy theorists comprise a segment of his viewership, but tend to be infatuated with correcting his histories and informing him of what he left out.

But conspiracies do not govern his theses. If anything Curtis’ work is about how unreckoned our relationship with power is. It’s an overarching history of the 20th century giving birth to new systems to disseminate and control power. Since we have no working narrative or politics to concede with power, unintended consequences prevail. The stories of his films are almost always a history of how those in power create plans to change the world, and those plans go completely awry."



"Curtis’ work may not be infallible, but it often asks why we have become stagnant and regressive, why we are running out of visions for the future. At the very least, his films have provided a new vision: of how we still have work to do in the form of filmmaking that will help us understand our world. I hope BITTER LAKE most of all raises questions of how news organizations appropriate the imagery that is shot, often at great cost to the lives of journalists, in a way that has narrowed the possible dimensionality of its truth. Even more troublesome, the exploitation of footage created by terrorists has resulted in a horrifying feedback loop where corporate news entities earn profits off of their existence.

In the far future, the real impact of BITTER LAKE will most likely be the filmmakers inspired by it. They may not need to wait for a collection of discarded videotapes, for lurking out there on the Internet is a nearly infinite archive of footage. Over 100,000 hours are uploaded to YouTube each day. It is just out there waiting for artists, journalists and storytellers to help us make sense of it all."
aaronstewart-ahn  adamcurtis  media  film  documentary  culture  aesthetics  news  emotions  afghanistan  iraq  war  filmmaking  brianwilliams  billo'reilly  power  editing  celebrity  soundbites  understanding  narrative  archives  youtube  journalism  storytelling  bbc  bitterlake 
march 2015 by robertogreco
« earlier      
per page:    204080120160

Copy this bookmark:





to read