Isaach De Bankole plays a hermetic assassin who is able to resist Paz de la Huerta, shown above sprawled naked on his bed. That is one limit of control that Jim Jarmusch’s film refers to. What I just said was absolute rubbish (maybe not) but here’s another picture of the wonderful Paz.
The film takes certain cues from Melville’s Le Samourai, not unlike Jarmusch’s earlier Ghost Dog: The Way Of The Samurai. Again, it’s a lone man killer story. The opening sequence also had a ride in a taxi cab that had me wondering why I felt like I was watching a Wong Kar Wai film almost. One bit had the taxi coming head on and fading into blur, then shifting and morphing back into focus to displace the idea of time and space. Then I did my homework and realised Christopher Doyle was responsible for the cinematography. Duh.
It’s a shockingly beautiful film. One with a plot that’s paper thin and completely unimportant. The characters aren’t parts of a story. They’re merely pieces of a painting, each one carrying their own subtext about a certain existentialist yearning threaded throughout the film. There’s plenty of big stars in the film, most of them only appearing very briefly, from John Hurt to Joe Strummer to Tilda Swinton to Gael Garcia Bernal and Bill Murray just to name a few. Of course there’s plenty of Paz. And she gets real naked. Which is real nice. Very nice. I think Paz made up 50% of the film for me. Of which 49% belonged to her chesticular region and the other 1% was the glasses. Oh the glasses!
Anyway, right existentialist crap, cultural references yadda yadda yadda. It doesn’t really matter. The film is about form. Well, not quite aesthetic identity in film but it’s a film that’s a concept, an idea. You might watch it and wonder what all the preening and posing and the slo-mo walking and phase shifting and pretentious dialogue is all about. It’s about nothing. It’s unimportant. As the film itself quotes, “La vida no vale nada.”. Life is worth nothing. It’s one of those journey films? No. It’s a film that would have ideally been unframed by space and time. It’s more of a concept played out as an assassin story that’s inhibited by the fact that we require limitations in order to understand something, like an anchor with which to feel secure, in control.
Despite the film being a non film, it’s actually pretty good. It’s slow pace is addled by the drony sounds of Sunn O))) and Boris interspersed with Schubert and some very pretty flamenco. Visually, it’s quite stunning, from floating countrysides to squared on shots in museums and just people walking through streets. It kinda celebrates the unseen beauty that’s always around you but you never care to see.
Melville’s Le Samourai had Alain Delon running around staircases and rooftops and alleys as he navigated Paris. De Bankole in this film navigates things in a similar fashion, only he stays in an apartment complex full of curves. Because of the peculiar interior of the building, it sort of obfuscates the position of the character. You’re not quite sure where he is or what’s going on. Too many times, he’s also framed cut off, at a tight angle, camera slowing moving in to reveal. This isn’t an annoying thing but a cinematographic idea that tries to hint at a more than meets the eye kinda scenario. You also get to see a black man doing Tai Chi, which is classic Jarmusch cultural melding.
Watching this film made me really wanna go to Spain because it looks so beautiful, whether its the cobblestone streets or the countryside or the modernist buildings or the old world charm. It would be too easy to dismiss the film as full of cool shit but plenty of nothing. Because it ain’t. I don’t think it’s the most amazing film I’ve ever seen but it certainly challenges perceptions and limitations.
Watched a trailer in the cinema about a new movie by Rob Marshall. Wondered why it looked like a musical 81/2, Fellini’s film. So checked wikipedia and learned that you’re gonna see this below, played by Fergie.
Just for the record, I find Fergie hugely unattractive. Man jaws and all dat. The film is actually based on a musical that’s been around since 1982 which came from a play inspired by 81/2. Also, Daniel Day Lewis is gonna be Marcello Mastrioanni. I’m trying to be really snide as well if you can’t quite read that through the soullessness of the internet.
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Augh, why do cute little girls grow up? I mean, uh. Man, Chris Bailey cuts a trench like the best huh? Yea um. Dat.
How divine would it be to be able to dine on prized delicacies from another era? Tudor style Frog Blancmange? Alice in Wonderland inspired 5 flavor drinks? Medieval style Bull’s testes? Absolutely mar-vellous darling.
At least that’s what celebs on Heston Blumenthal’s latest telly show on UK’s Channel 4, Heston’s Feasts would have had. Beyond the outrageous unfood-food that he puts on the menu, is his very logical and methodical approach. The feast is a reimagining of what people would have eaten way back in the day during Tudor/Roman/Medieval/Victorian times. His research is based on facts, actually reading through dusty old tomes and then reconstructing the dishes in his own way. Some of the dishes, like the 5 flavored drink, are completely original but he brings this magical, fairytale esque idea into the mix. Combined with his mad scientist presentation, it all falls into place. This guy’s mind is brill.
Just so you know, real bulls (probably post mortem but I’m no expert) had their testes cut off, which were then cooked sousvide before sliced open and restuffed and made to look like a plum. A bull’s plum pretending to be a plum is a plum tart in my book.
*Disclaimer* Not for the squeamish or males. Highly recommended if your idol is Lorena Bobbitt.
I liking gurl singers right now. Not sewing machines mind. Blonde Redhead, Asobi Seksu, Bat For Lashes, Camera Obscura, Fever Ray, Ladyhawke, Metric, YYY’s… heck, even Royksopp put out an album fulla chicks putting hot air in a mic.
We shud celebrate this with some videos!
Poor Natasha Khan gets molested by people wearing black boobie shaped balloons on their heads in what looks like Maarten Baas’ studio. At least this time she dumps the bike and gets to drive. This indie chick is clearly moving up the social ladder. This track is actually dedicated to The Karate Kid. I kid you not.
Next up is Kazu Makino’s ode to the 23 enigma set to some dreamy swarthescapes. The Redhead have a new LP coming out soonish.
Now we have Tracyanne Campbell going on about some fella from the French Navy. Its got like 2 chords and the verse and the chorus is like the same but its hella breezy.
Karin Dreijer Andersson scares me when she sings but her amazing “hipster shaman chick who ran through a forest in the fall and got attacked by wolves” look really enamours. I also would like to state my disappointment after waiting 4 minutes to find that she doesn’t get into the pool in that vid.
Welcome back 1980s. I missed you. Phillipa Brown talks about Paris burning as she vamps along looking slightly awkward in a Snoopy tee as she gets variously assaulted by feathers, a drunk, sparks and silver flaky stuff. There’s also a wolf! Probably the one that got Karin from before.
Here’s another Japanese babe in a band. Yuki Chikudate alternating between her mother tongue and mine. Um. I meant English.
I tink Sydneyside needs moar gurls lyk deez.
Its probably best to sit through Alejandro Jodorowsky’s films and not think too much, but that’s something that I just can’t seem to do. Watching The Holy Mountain had my mind racing through every scene, bewildered at the subject and absurdity of it all but also marveling at the visual aesthetic beauty before my eyes. It didn’t make any sense and probably wasn’t supposed to anyway but its a mindfuck nonetheless. I can see why John Lennon was so up on this shit he had Allen Klein fund Jodorowsky for this. Epic is one way to think of Holy Mountain.
The Alchemist as the film opens.
The film is sort of based on a book by Rene Daumal, Mount Analogue and takes the basic framework of a pseudo spiritual ascension up a mountain and the travails that follow it. The start of the show plays out like some sort of psuedo allegory to the last days of Christ almost. It focuses on a single, barely dressed man (The Thief) who befriends a limbless dwarf and proceeds to try to make a living in the city, presumably somewhere in South America. Because he looks like the stereotypical image of Christ, some fat dudes dressed like romans decide to get him drunk and proceed to make a mould out of him to make Christ figurines for profit. The Thief wakes up mad, smashes some fake Christs and then goes on some kind of last walk, carrying one fake Christ like a cross as he gets followed by a bunch of prostitutes, one of them with a monkey in tow. He then gets into a quarrel of sorts with a priest and gets chased away. Respondent, he then turns to eating the wax figurine he had been carrying, before he floats up on balloons that appeared outta nowhere.
After his ascension, The Thief spots a huge tower and gets inside, intent on finding its secrets. There he meets The Alchemist, played by Jodorowsky himself in some Shinto X frute swag attire. They fight but The Alchemist keeps winning. He then decides to take The Thief on as a disciple and introduces him to 7 other people, with whom they would ascend the titular Holy Mountain in order to ascertain the secrets of the gods. Each one of the 7 is a certified asshole, including war mongerers, moguls and politicians. They train together in preparation for the ascension, going through trial after trial, in the hope of achieving immortality.
The Alchemist & The Thief: Not a Stereophonics song.
Eventually, they leave for Holy Mountain on a boat, get sidetracked by a mad place called the Pantheon Bar, which is filled with people who got distracted from the ultimate goal of climbing to the mountain’s peak, where it is said, a group of 9 wise men reside. The group’s plan is to usurp the power the wise men have and they get the fuck out of the bar, proceeding through more trials and tribulations, both mental and physical until they finally get to the summit.
By this point, my eyes were slapped by a myriad of unbelievable images. One sideshow has geckos dressed in traditional Aztec garb getting attacked by frogs, representing the conquistadors. They fight in a scale model city before everything gets blown to bits. Another scene has got policemen in gas masks dancing with commoners. There’s also a scene where The Thief defecates into a container and The Alchemist turns it into gold. Yet, Jodorowsky keeps even more up his sleeve by the time the film reaches its conclusion.
A naked woman stimulating a robot with a phallus until it experiences an orgasm of noise and movement.
Compared to El Topo, The Holy Mountain is similar in that both films are allegorical, symbolical, pseudo religious, trippy hippy films. Yet, El Topo could respectfully contain a narrative almost. The Holy Mountain has such a loose narrative, with each portion of the film almost seemingly its own story almost. Its supposed to be one complete journey but you end up going everywhere else instead. Which I suppose ultimately relates to what Jodorowsky was getting at towards the end.
Maybe there is a Holy Mountain. If I could find and ascend it, I might attain some kind of immortality or superpower. Or maybe there isn’t and there’s nothing to gain in the first place. Maybe all I’ll gain is knowledge, that I was a fool to begin with but the journey was still a beautiful, memorable one.
I haf to say, Miranda Kerr is hawt fiyah, just the right mix of elegance, girlishness and sex. This fansite has the bees knees on Sydney’s pride and joy.
On all the fashion forums, there’s always the what are you wearing today thread, where you post your own fits and check out everybody else’s. Lookbook.nu is all about encapsulating that idea and making it in a clean, searchable index sort of format, where registrants can log in and rep people. Another nice feature is the ability to link the items in your fit in a clean manner on the pic itself.
Its a pretty good resource/style guide and I’d say a lot of the fits are quite good. Most people on the site seem pretty fashionable but you can easily pick out the gems. Some of the photography is excellent and also most importantly, at the end of the day, there’s some hot chicks there hehehe.
Mmm… soft white buns and bunnies. I like how there’s like a hole where they inject the sesame into the bunnies and it looks like a nipple. And how the buns have that little tip that looks like tone on tone nipple.
The last time Sofia Coppola got together with Kirsten Dunst, it was Virgin Suicides. Which happened to be a really wonderful, beautiful little film about girls killing themselves. They got back together for the biographical film on the famously beheaded former empress of France, Marie Antoinette. Which happens to be really languid and rather boring, almost facile. I guess it was more of a “oh look, here’s a poor little rich girl trying hard to find herself” story. It seemed to really empathize with the supposedly decadent side of the empress and hardly bothered about the trivialities like her spending away the country’s money.
The movie was really slow and seemed disconnected with all this wonderful post punk/new wave stuff that was on the soundtrack. It all sounds great but doesn’t seem to move in tandem, even if particular themes are similar. It just felt very poseur almost, like hey, let’s throw in some really good music to distract people from the shitty script.
But I’m not too bothered. I just spent my time staring at the wonderful costumes and cleavage. And this lovely shot of Ms. Dunst without the silly costume. Which begs the question why Jason Schwarztmann took like a few years to bone her.
