Via Lady Bunny’s blog

Also, this. There are totems around us. All around us.

 
I first saw Leos Carax’s Pola X back when it first came out in ‘99 and barring one truly amazing scene it has pretty much slipped my mind. That is until I was reminded of it while watching the wonderful Scott Walker doc “30 Century Man” the other day. In the fury of hype over its “un-simulated” sex scene, something that seemed to be sort of in vogue at the time, I had completely forgotten about Walker’s heavy-duty score, which in watching it again makes the film. Don’t get me wrong, I love the depiction of the tortured artiste giving up his considerable wealth and comfort to pursue a dark, forbidden muse (a love affair with his estranged half-sister) but these 3 minutes of film are some of the most striking, vertigo-inducing I’ve seen. Yes, it’s ludicrous to have a factory-dwelling cult playing huge industrial noise symphonies on expensive gear conducted by a charismatic leader in an X-rated French soap opera, but I like it. Alot.

 
The Selvedge Yard has a humorous photo essay titled The Bird, The Finger, The Legend. See more images of famous folks flipping the bird here.

 

 
Here’s an odd collection of hand-drawn movie posters for temporary cinemas in Ghana. From This Blog Rules:

Temporary cinemas became common in Ghana in the 80s because of video cassette technology. When ?

 
I know the Star Wars mashups are getting a bit redundant. However, this one is pretty darn clever and amusing.
 
(via misterhonk)

 

 

 
Iconic mask illustrations by German artist Adrian Pavic
 
(via misterhonk)

“(Spliced From Alan Dean Foster’s Brilliant Novel)” (NSFW)

(“Thanks,” Marty Beckerman!)

 
Thank god she didn’t watch “Requiem for a Dream.”

My wife cries at the end of almost every movie. It’s really cute. I grabbed my camera to capture this moment right after we finished Return of the Jedi.

Note: I love my wife to death! She was okay after about 25 minutes. She laughed when she saw this video.

 
(via Arbroath)

John Patterson at the Guardian’s critical appreciation of The New World, one of my favorite movies from my favorite director, ever. Patterson calls it the best movie of the decade. I think he’s probably right. It’s the kind of movie that will help you breathe for weeks. John says:

This decade hasn’t been up to much, movie-wise, but I am more than ever convinced that when every other scrap of celluloid from 2000-2009 has crumbled to dust, one film will remain, like some Ozymandias-like remnant of transient vanished glory in the desert. And that film is The New World, Terrence Malick’s American foundation myth, which arrived just as the decade reached its dismal halfway point, in January 2006.

It’s been said that The New World doesn’t have fans: it has disciples and partisans and fanatics. I’m one of them, and my fanaticism burns undimmed 30 or more viewings later. The New World is a bottomless movie, almost unspeakably beautiful and formally harmonious. The movie came and went within a month, and its critical reception was characterised for the most part by bafflement, condescension, lazy ridicule and outright hostility. And, less often, by faintly hysterical accolades written too soon and in terms too overheated to convey understanding. I know, I wrote one of them.

I was lucky. I saw the movie at 10 in the morning, on 20 minutes’ notice. I knew only that it was about Pocahontas and Captain John Smith, and was directed by the man who made Badlands, Days of Heaven and The Thin Red Line. I saw it on a screen the size of a warehouse wall, boasting a state-of-the-art sound system that picked out every insect whirr and birdcall, every droplet of falling water, every muted sigh. Having been underwhelmed by The Thin Red Line (upon which critics had ?