#Unorthodox/Homage

[kilolojenkinsinsl]

Are You Ready for Me?

Date night…are you ready? *winks* Kilo DEETS Clothing & Accessories Outfit: .Q. Bold -FATPACK- [Reborn,Waifu,LaraX,Legacy,Kupra] Earrings: RAWR! Orestes HUMAN FEMALE EvoX Earrings Bracelet: RAWR! Infinitely Bracelets Rings: RAWR! Infinitely Rings Purse: (O&N) Studs Purse (Fat Pack) Body & Makeup Hairbase: Unorthodox Scalpz LELUTKA (Low Complexity- Single) v2.3 – Briannon Hair: Unorthodox Ora…

[third-generation-female-warrior]

(Click for better quality!)

Mox / Stak / Deke/ Omega

Last in my installment of character sheets for the Havoc Squadron, a rebel who needs no introduction, but is getting one anyways because I said so.

Leader of the Havoc Squadron, Commander Omega Karr carries her clone brothers and sister with her wherever she goes.

Her "Rebellion" look, I thought it would be apt for her to have part of the pilot's uniform, but I also thought it would be good to merge that with some of her Pabu look but also adding in my own elements as in, Tech and Hunter's vambraces, as well as Tech's goggles. In her "No Order 66" AU look, she does have the pauldron and kamas that typically denote a clone of command, the kamas themselves being a homage to Echo. Her helmet was Hunters, but modified with a rangefinder.

Jack of all trades and master of them all, Omega serves as the squad's primary pilot, medic, droid and demolitions expert, as well as the leader. She's a compassionate heart, but also a fierce fighter, who will take a stand for anyone in need. She will defer her decisions to her team and knows when to delegate and utilize her brother's strengths. Known for her "unorthodox" methods on the field, when the cavalry arrives, you hope it's Omega leading them.

Trained in multiple forms of combat, Omega's weapon kit is as extensive as her repertoire. One DC-17 hand-blaster as her backup weapon, one immaculately kept vibroknife for close-range combat, and, in times of need, one commandeered Firepuncher to serve as the team's sniper.

[kunosiu]

My top 10 favorite Arashi's Music Videos

To celebrate the 25th anniversary and the fact that MV are now available on YouTube (what a time to be alive...) I wanted to compile a top 10 list of my favourite Arashi's MVs. And it turned out to be quite hard. My last cut from the list ("truth") was painful. 😭 But I did it.

Just couple of things before we start.

This is my very subjective list. If your favourite MV isn't here, I'm sorry, we just have different taste.

I'm choosing basted on the MV itself. For example, I love "I seek" as a song; it's my go to karaoke song, but MV for it is... Not my cup of tea to say the least. In other cases, like "Bittersweet", live performances outshines MV itself.

MVs are in chronological order. Don't make me rank them, I can't 😭

And now, without further ado...

1. A･RA･SHI

What can I say? It's their first MV, it's their debut song... It's iconic. It's also nice to see how far they've come. They are still babies here. 😭

2. Kitto Daijoubu

I honestly forgot about this until I was watching all MVs on November 3rd. And omg, it's so fun! The bad green screen, 4th wall breaks, rainbows, Arashi acting silly... it has it all!

3. Happiness

Let's be honest: you knew this was coming. If someone held a gun to my head I asked me to choose one of Arashi's MV as my favourite, I'd choose "Happiness". Aeons ago, someone said that this MV is 100% Arashi in Arashi and I can't disagree. You have it all: Arashi acting silly, pure chaos, Ohmiya... A LOT OF OHMIYA. And some small moments for other pairings too. xD

And it was also the first MV of them I saw.

4. Crazy Moon~kimi wa muteki~

This maybe an unorthodox choice because it's a very simple dance MV... And that's the reason I chose it. Arashi don't have any other video like this. Just them dancing to the song in an empty hall. Without any backdrop or outfit change. They had to sell it to us by just dancing. And I think they succeeded. The choreography is interesting and bravo to the stylist because I think they all look so good here.

5. My Girl

Story MVs are rare in Arashi videography. Practically just "Aozora pedal" and "My Girl". And since my best friend hates MV to "Aozora pedal", I have to choose "My girl" xD

But in all seriousness, it's really cute story where Arashi play siblings who are moving out of their family home after the death of their mother. Their mom is Photoshop monstrosity made of different parts of members' faces xD But MV it's cute nonetheless.

I remember all the fan fiction this video inspired... Good times... xD

6. Troublemaker

This is the first MV I remember waiting for. And I don't wanna say it is here just because of nostalgia. I think it's just really good video on its' own merits. I like stop-motion sequences, I think those suits are impeccable outfits and... there's a lot of Ohmiya. xD Look, I'm a simple gal, if Ohno and Nino are acting cute together, I'm putting the video on this list. xD

7. Aozora no shita, kimi no tonari

I think this maybe another unexpected entry. It's not a very popular MV. It's very simple. And maybe that's why I like it. It was shoot in outdoor locations; stylists again done wonderful job - they all look so good. I love their individual shoots, especially Aiba sitting on the edge a platform looks angelic. And the bbq at the end... ♥ This MV just feels cosy.

8. Fukkatsu Love

It's just good, I don't know what else to tell you guys. I love the parts they shoot in those long takes... Touma is there! It's just so good!

9. Don't You Get it

Another obvious entry I think. They all look good here, they all acting goofy, Sho and Nino do magic tricks, Ohno has hilarious face expressions whenever you pause the video, there's a doggie and Ohmiya dance (I've told you, guys xD)

10. Do you...?

We started with the their first MV, it's appropriate to end at their last. (AT THIS MOMENT! I HOPE 😭) "Do you..." if wonderful homage to Arashi's journey, full of easter eggs to all the previous MVs. And it might be its' only flaw - that it doesn't work so well in a vacuum. But if you were on November 3rd 2020 when this MV and Arashi's last album dropped, you were feeling it. You were crying, you were smiling and you tried to notice all the references to previous MVs. Maybe even at the same time. xD

And that's all. 😊 Thank you if you made it here. Please let me know your favourite MVs! As I've said, this is very subjective list and I had to cut off a lot of MV I love to make it just 10 videos T_T.

[daynascullys]

ideas/opinions?

*alternatively “moments with the #otprecinct” - obsessed with this term/homage to the legendary castlegc. basically, moments with any combination of characters from the otprecinct

**I have castle and beckett and #favcs that I might rework into an official “favorite castle scenes” series. Trying to think of one that includes everyone

Basically want to have some love for the other dynamics I love so much in this show 🩵

(tagging some friends who will probably be tagged in a million of these gifsets lmfao but this is a poll for anyone who cares 🩵 @singinprincess @useryoumna @useragarfield @userlaylivia @unorthodox-oblivion @elphabasthropp @iwonderifyouwonderaboutme @renegadesstuff @sculien @scullysconstant @scullay @emilybluntt @spencereid )

[cloverskentwells]

random snippet of a 73rd Games Victor Cato AU that probably wont see the light of day. For context: Cato is the D2M Tribute in Catching Fire instead of Brutus, and Katniss has vivid memories of his Games.

---

The Recap then transitions to District 2. Onstage stands the typical Victors I would expect from a Career District. To the right is Enobaria Salinas: obsidian hair cascading down her back in perfectly styled waves, baring her sharpened teeth to the world, dark eyes glowing embers of an emotion I would describe as excitement. A Two Victor being thrilled to reenter the Arena - no surprises there.

Next to her is a younger yet much larger man, eyebrows raised at the crowd as if arrogantly challenging them, jaw clenched tight, cold blue eyes looking directly at the camera with the obvious desire to intimidate. I know him because he's a recent Victor - Cato Hadley, from the Games before mine and Peeta's.

He was infamous for his terrifying brutality and unhinged nature, for how the necks of his fellow Tributes were little more than twigs in his unforgiving grip. What set him apart from his peers, however, was his unorthodox reaction to his District partner's death - Careers are no stranger to violence, and the Packs typically fight amongst themselves for the right to the crown once everyone else is gone.

Although I try to forget the Games after the mandatory watching as soon as they are over, for some reason his stayed with me, probably because it was so unusual. Watching him kneel beside his fallen partner and gently brush her bloodstained hair away from her face, hands shaky, begging her to stay with him, almost made him appear normal, like the rest of us.

Of course, he quickly returned to violence afterwards, and thankfully any misplaced feelings of sympathy I had faded. The Tribute who had killed Cato's partner was subjected to a more intense aggression than any of the others, but otherwise Cato might as well have been just like any other Two Victor. Even now, separated by a TV screen, I feel the fearful effects of his gaze locked on me, promising a sadistic end.

"He's one to watch out for," Haymitch seems to agree, but something in his voice softens.

"What was that girl's name? The one he went in with, who died?" Peeta's curiosity spreads to me, and I wait for an answer. The train speeds across the rails in a soothing glide motion, designed to prevent motion sickness, but acrid bile rises in my throat nonetheless.

"Clove," I whisper as I recall the name. He screamed it back to her when she called for his help, desperation making his voice crack. Also, I remember he did an interview with Caesar last year to promote his own Tributes, and the conversation somehow derailed to the swirl of dark ink across his chest that was made visible by the V neckline of his shirt. His face went completely white when Caesar commented on how his tattoo, evidently of her name, was "such a sweet way to pay homage to a dead partner."

Needless to say, he wasn't interviewed again. Why exactly I noticed any of this, I'm not sure.

"He and Clove had a history," is all the information Haymitch gives us. "And now he's going back in. Young, fresh from his previous Victory, and still as strong and Trained. A little crazier too. Stay as far away from him as you can, probably for your safety."

"I was planning on it," I mutter. Nothing good ever came from extended contact with a Career. Still, now I can't shake the image of him and that girl dying in his arms from my mind.

[alfdefolf]

Eeyore, nicknamed "Iowa" - Inspired by Slipknot's Iowa.

Eeyore grew up in a secluded, depopulated region of Iowa. Suffice to say he absolutely despised it. He spent decades providing for himself with very little social connection, only the sounds of the wind cutting through the cornfields and harsh spring rainfall kept him company. He became a hermit and never properly self-reflected, opting instead to take his pent up anger out on himself and his surroundings. Living the same painfully silent day over and over again drove Eeyore absolutely mad beyond repair. Longing for some kind of prolonged contact, Eeyore began luring and murdering anybody who crossed his path. To Eeyore, a body was a brand new member of a twisted family. To Eeyore, a body was more of a friend than any beating heart ever could be. He would share meals with them, perform unorthodox mix-and-match surgery on their corpses, and have conversations lasting several hours. A carcass was a toy to Eeyore, now taking on the name "Iowa," a spiteful homage to the place he hates most.

Despite all of this brutality, stench, and sickness - "Iowa" will never reach true fulfillment, and his deranged game of operation will continue on.

"You are mine, you will always be mine! I can tear you apart, I can recombine you!"

[mobymartin]

Adventures on the set of Werner Herzog’s ‘Nosferatu’

By Beverly Walker, Sight & Sound, Autumn 1978

The scene is recollected like a dream: I am standing barefoot in the middle of a poor Czechoslovak farmer’s hut, dressed in a nun’s robe of white silk, surrounded by gypsies. Next to me is Dominique, the very serious make-up assistant, playing a doctor and next to him is a real actor, Bruno Ganz, perspiring and ashen. He is supposedly ill, having fallen from Count Dracula’s castle while escaping, and indeed he looks rather ill. Across from us are the farmer and his wife, looking like a portrait by Thomas Hart Benton, and in my mind are passing images already committed to celluloid: Klaus Kinski running across a square, his emerald green cape fluttering behind him like the wings of a primeval insect; Isabelle Adjani staring sadly from a window; Jacques Dufilho, strapped to the wheel of his death-boat, floating mysteriously into harbour.

A cathedral-like silence has seized the room, and the lights are so bright and definitive that I feel caught in space and time. Activity outside the illuminated rectangle is barely perceptible: everyone moves very slowly, as if under water; the faces are opaque and grave.

This pre-shooting preparation was eerily like the rushes I had seen of the film we were finishing, Werner Herzog’s Nosferatu, and the ensuing day’s work provided more insights into the creation of this dark fairy tale than all the preceding weeks of watching this unorthodox production unfold from behind the camera.

A new reading of the Dracula legend, Herzog’s film is both an homage to and loosely based upon F. W. Murnau’s 1922 silent classic, Nosferatu, a Symphony of Horror, the film which began the vampire genre. Both in turn draw on Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel, Dracula. But except for the plot skeleton and a preoccupation with the wages of fear, Herzog’s film is quite different from Murnau’s and, indeed, from all those in between. Calling it ‘a new version of the subject,’ to be seen, ‘in the same respect as various works about Jeanne d’Arc and Jesus Christ,’ he continues the dissection of bourgeois complacency begun in earnest with The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser (1974). The basic story line has been used countless times: a real estate agent sends his employee to Transylvania to sell Count Dracula a house. Imprisoned by the ‘undead’ monster (‘nosferatu’ is a Romanian word meaning ‘undead’), he finally escapes, but arrives back home too late to prevent catastrophe. His wife, in an ultimate act of sacrificial love, destroys the vampire.

Starring Klaus Kinski as the count, and Isabelle Adjani and Bruno Ganz as the couple destroyed by him, Nosferatu is something of a turning point for the 36-year-old director. For the first time, Herzog has an adequate budget and the backing of the film establishment. Made in English (and, secondarily, German), the film will be distributed by 20th Century Fox, currently America’s most adventurous studio. Herzog is producing it himself and has complete artistic control and production autonomy, a rare if not unprecedented privilege for a director whose austere vision has yet to connect with the broad-based (American) public. But Fox is well aware of his standing in Europe, and with critics and many young filmgoers everywhere, and agreed to participate in the project under his precise conditions. They did not even see a script until two weeks before filming began in the Netherlands.

The scene in which I took part was taking place in the High Tatra, the mountain terrain on Czechoslovakia’s Polish border, serving the film as the Carpathian Mountains. We are nearing completion after two tortuous months in Delft (Holland), Lubeck (West Germany), Pernstein and Telc (Czechoslovakia). Kinski and Adjani have left, and the remaining scenes involve Bruno Ganz, a former German stage star who became a major cinema actor with his fifth film in four years, Wim Wenders’ The American Friend. I am here to assist with the English dialogue, and like almost everyone else on the ‘team’ – one rarely hears the word ‘crew’ – I now find myself in front of the camera.

These cameos are ‘treats’ awarded to Herzog’s helpers like the Toblerone chocolate he proffers at special moments, a small but telling manifestation of his genius for bringing everyone into his particular universe. They also provide his work with a singular continuity and, at least for himself and those involved, blur the distinction between process and result. The roles are eagerly sought as a sign of his approval, and each one seems uncannily apt because Herzog relies almost entirely upon a performer’s persona in casting. He says he first became interested in Isabelle Adjani from the poster – not the film – of The Story of Adele H. (1975), and he cast several roles in Nosferatu from photographs. (He cast himself as a monk.)

Herzog’s repetitive – and conscious – use of the same actors in different films has often been noted. Walter Ladengast and Clemens Scheitz, the two elderly gentlemen from Kaspar Hauser, are in this film (Scheitz was also in Stroszek, 1977); Klaus Kinski was, of course, the volatile star of Aguirre, Wrath of God (1972) and also of Woyzeck (1979), the film Herzog began on the heels of Nosferatu. The current scenario of Fitzcarraldo, his next project, includes roles for many major performers in previous films; but of equal significance is the utilisation of his highly individual team. After watching the filming at Pernstein Castle, a young Czech woman said, ‘I think they make this film for just themselves.’ It was an astute observation.

Though the Nosferatu group included French, Dutch and Czech technicians in the respective locations, as required by co-production and other legalities, the core of Herzog’s unit are young Germans who have worked with him for some time. Jorg Schmidt-Reitwein, the cinematographer of La Soufriere (1977), Kaspar Hauser and Heart of Glass (1976), among other films, has known him for ten years and actually lived with the Herzogs for three of those; executive producer Walter Saxer has managed all his productions since Aguirre. Others, notably Henning von Gierke and Gisela Storch, the production and costume designers, and their assistants, have been with him since Kaspar Hauser and have never worked on anyone else’s films. Von Gierke is a successful painter and Storch works at Schaubühne Berlin, the theatre where Bruno Ganz reached his apogee as an actor. Their assistants included a professor of political science, another of rarefied mathematics and a painter/collagist who has a workshop for children in Munich.

It is a unique and gifted group whom one would never find on a ‘normal’ production because of union regulations. (Germany has no film unions except for actors.) They are Herzog’s collaborators in the most profound meaning of the term; indeed, it is obvious that they have definitively influenced the look – if not the theme – of his films. Kaspar Hauser, Heart of Glass, Nosferatu and Woyzeck are of a piece, reflecting the refined and painterly sensibilities of the Schmidt-Reitwein/von Gierke/Storch triumvirate – very different from Aguirre and Stroszek, shot by Thomas Mauch. They are a kind of ‘family’; protective of Herzog and of their relationship to him; fiercely loyal to each other; convinced of their importance to his work and monumentally uninterested in the exigencies of film as an industry. ‘We do not like stars and we do not like these press people because they only come for the stars,’ one of them said adamantly, and she was merely echoing prevailing sentiments. They were openly sceptical about the film’s American connection, and the reception to anyone perceived as representing those interests could be quite frosty.

Additionally, it was almost impossible for an ‘outsider’ to apprehend either the interior creative dynamics or the production logistics. Communication was largely in German – even to Adjani, who speaks the language fluently – and decisions also tended to be made via private asides, oblique signals and tacit understandings. An example of this ‘sign language’ was given by Jorg. He is filming Nosferatu in shimmering pastels and does not want any bright, ‘pop’ colours – not even one red flower sticking in a window box. When he tried to remove one for a certain scene, Herzog objected and put it back. Jorg then spotted Henning von Gierke, nodded very slightly towards the offending blossom and, when Herzog’s back was turned, von Gierke replaced it with a yellow one. Like loyal but independent cardinals to Herzog’s Pope, Jorg, Henning and Gisela are constantly consulting each other and making critical visual decisions without reference to Herzog.

Obviously Herzog likes what he gets, for taking suggestions is not one of his strong points and he is genuinely devoted to these people. But for those trying equally hard to assist him, it could be an exceedingly difficult situation. Like Nosferatu’s theme, the production always seemed to be teetering on the brink between tyranny and chaos—except before the camera, which was sacred territory. There, the atmosphere became intensely pure and intimate, a phenomenon I never really perceived or appreciated until I experienced it myself.

As we waited within the illuminated rectangle for lighting refinements, Herzog began bringing the players under his spell. He does not speak privately with anyone nor does he play director’s tricks, but he does create an extraordinary ambience, aided and abetted by his filmmaking family’s intuitive grasp of the moment. His own belief in the sliver of life he is shaping is so complete that those participating simply follow. After a brief explanation to the gypsies through a translator, in front of my own eyes they take on the countenance of dark angels – sombre, guarded, inaccessible. True to his penchant for people scarred by society’s neglect, Herzog had become fascinated by the gypsies upon his arrival in the Tatra, and had himself fetched them from their village especially for this scene. In the days to come, he increasingly incorporated them into the fabric of the film. And expressed no sympathy for those complaining of bites from the army of fleas leaping off them. ‘It’s the justice of the flea! ’ he said, immediately placing his loyalties on the side not only of the gypsy, but also of the flea.

We rehearse twice. Herzog’s comments are simple but exactly to the point. When he says urgently, ‘take your time��, I realise that my movement is sharp and therefore out of synchronisation with the pace and mood of the film. Like the activity I observed outside the playing area, life within this film is dreamy and somehow distanced, as if the characters had long ago taken leave of their bodies and are now merely watching themselves, like puppets, from another place. It is perhaps not paradoxical that the film is an attack upon precisely this kind of unthinking mummification and blind obedience.

Though the last rehearsal was full of dialogue mistakes, Herzog assures us that it will be just fine and steps before the camera with the clapboard. He always holds it, believing that he alone should be the last person within the performers’ magic arena before the scene begins. He crouches under the camera as we do the scene, twice fully, twice in close-up. His faith is rewarded: we do it right… somehow. After a break for lighting adjustments, we do another brief scene – ‘quickly, so it will be spontaneous’ – because he has given some lines to a gypsy. Bruno Ganz, an actor with a rare sense of truth, seems extraordinarily good as he departs this last haven before catastrophe with the warning, ‘Evil is on the way.’ Later, he tells me it is his favourite line.

Far from being a detached observer, Herzog is so completely ‘with’ the performers that one feels an enormous responsibility to meet the challenge, and one also feels that the effort is just for him. I remember watching Adjani rise majestically through a trap-door into a room full of two thousand rats. Some were falling over the edge, into her hair, down her dress – but she never flinched. Kinski never lost his composure although he was coping with the most difficult make-up imaginable – false ears, false teeth, four-inch long fingernails and elevated boots. An actor who could not swim none the less plunged into the stormy North Sea waters in the dead of night because Herzog assured him that he’d be right behind him – and was, though the two nearly drowned because the currents swept the boat a half-hour’s distance away.

The intensity in Herzog’s films emanates from the power of his personality and his pristine sense of truth, and its extraordinary force is not explainable or really comprehensible even when one is watching – or participating in – its creation. Sometimes I wondered if this gift was a blessing or a curse. Herzog is by now aware of his ‘visionary’ impact upon audiences, but there was never any evidence during the making of Nosferatu that he consciously tries to achieve this effect. The contrary. He violently refuses interpretation, and his creative triumvirate each told me separately that any type of psychologically or metaphysically charged discussion is strictly forbidden. ‘We must not talk about this,’ he will say, and wander off. The process has mystery even to them. ‘We don’t talk about style or atmosphere,’ says Jorg, ‘but we’re on the same wavelength. Sometimes there must be a dictator to bring about this fusion; we accept it.’ Whether in front of the camera or behind it, one has no choice but to surrender to Herzog’s vision, and though this is sometimes infuriating, it also has a dangerous appeal.

As we returned to our lodgings after filming, I reflected upon the whole experience on Nosferatu. The obstacles had been so enormous that I had sometimes felt the film was cursed – and yet Herzog somehow prevailed. A comment made by Isabelle Adjani some weeks earlier in Delft came to mind. We were discussing the many internal problems which were complicated by the refusal of the city to provide even a modicum of co-operation. Adjani, a perspicacious realist, finally shook her head. ‘But the film won’t be touched,’ she said. ‘It’s like a benediction. You can feel it, pulling the film forward.’

A benediction. Herzog himself had set the tone at a dinner before the start of shooting. Taking the floor, one of the many times he would lecture with righteous fervour, he said, ‘We do not make Nosferatu just for ourselves. We have a responsibility. We have the blessings of Lotte Eisner, a woman who was chased out of Germany during the time of barbarism; she is some sort of spiritual guide for us, and because she has given her blessing, we have legitimacy.’

Legitimacy is a term of import to Herzog. At an early press conference, one of the many held throughout the Delft location to prevent the city withholding all permissions, he said, ‘Before the war, we had great, and what I call “legitimate”, German culture. But this was broken. That is an historical fact.’ Identifying Lotte Eisner, the film historian who has known nearly every great filmmaker of the century, as the first person to call the New German Cinema a ‘renaissance’, he continued: ‘My challenge in doing a new version of Nosferatu is to link the great epoch of Expressionist filmmaking with this renaissance… to create a bridge over this historical gap.’ Finally, he drew upon the memory of ‘Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau, a man who died too soon.’ When Lotte Eisner visited the set, she said, ‘I never thought I could be friends with a German again. But here I am… Werner is somehow like Murnau brought back to life.’

For a man who endorses his own line, ‘I only believe what I see with my own eyes,’ Herzog seems to be touched by an amazing grace. Though the ‘fusion’ referred to by Schmidt-Reitwein works brilliantly on a creative level, Herzog’s working methods in combination with his theme came very close to undoing him in the simple matter of surviving and getting the film made.

The catastrophe wrought by the malevolent Count is the unleashing of plague-infested rats into a serene bourgeois city. The provincial 17th century town of Delft was a perfect choice. Though it had some importance three hundred years ago, it has slowly evolved – one might even say ‘atrophied’ – into a museum piece, albeit an exquisite one. Flowers blossom in profusion; the cobbled streets carry as many bicyclists as motorists; the windows of every dwelling are framed by sparkling white curtains. And there are the canals lined by blossoming lime trees, perfectly described in Herzog’s screenplay as ‘going no place but back on themselves.’ Delft’s New Church, in whose shadow Herzog shot many scenes, is the official burial place for kings and queens of the Netherlands. Queen Wilhelmina reportedly used to say, ‘I do not go to Delft because eventually I have to go there.’

Herzog, who often displays a kind of naive candour, told the Dutch press his reasons for selecting Delft. ‘It’s so well ordered, so neat and beautiful, so bourgeois… I don’t mean that in disrespectful terms, for bourgeois culture has made some great achievements. But just because it’s so well organised, it’s interesting for me as a filmmaker to show the disintegration of order, the collapse of public morale.’ He was equally candid about the necessity of filming with rats, the creature which was to become his bete noire. ‘My film is about a community invaded by fear, by an anonymous terror that can hardly be named. The rats are a decisive element because they signify this invasion of fear. I ask this town with all my heart to allow me to make a few shots, in controllable areas, with the rats.’ But a city that provided Johannes Vermeer with a proper tombstone only two years ago would certainly turn its back on Werner Herzog.

The picture of a large rat accompanied the Dutch newspaper’s bold headline: ‘PESTEPIDEMIE OP OUDE DELFT.’ Translated, it said ‘The plague has come to old Delft’, and the accompanying article clarified the hateful metaphor. Werner Herzog, his young and predominantly German team, and ten thousand white rodents from a Hungarian laboratory had dared enter Delft to make a movie. Like a caravan of old-time artisans, they came by truck, van and modest cars sagging with the weight of material and equipment. Settling communal style into a large house in the old section of the city, they went about their work. Coffins must be built; museums altered; properties constructed; costumes dyed and sewn. This was not like the Lana Turner-Clark Gable movie made in Delft thirty years ago, nor like Joe Levine’s luxuriantly budgeted A Bridge Too Far which had just left. No one could accuse the group of laziness or impropriety, but they were German, free-spirited and passionate – and they were up to something with a lot of rats.

The newspaper headline had the effect of a battle cry. Lines of resistance went up almost overnight; channels of communication were suspended. The Netherlands is renowned for its hospitality and devotion to democratic principles, and Herzog had not anticipated such resistance. True, the local officials had always hedged about the rats, but Herzog was confident he could bring them round – and why not? To a man who has braved the jungles of Peru, the Sahara, a churning volcano, Delft looked like child’s play.

‘We have a serious and dignified project,’ he told a gathering of government officials and journalists. ‘The Murnau film is the most exciting and probably the best film in German history. It was an important film, courageous, and the first to predict the barbarism which came later.’ His eloquence captured the local film enthusiasts, who showed a retrospective of his work, circulated petitions and arranged a series of meetings with the Mayor and officials. ‘We do not come as an invading army,’ he said, mindful of the Netherlands’ long occupation by Germany. ‘I am a guest here, and a guest has some sort of natural right, but a very limited one. Therefore, I ask for clemency.’

The effort was exhaustive, but largely unrewarded. An incident on the first day’s shooting proved a portent: a small graveyard Herzog had himself created on a sand dune the night before was, by six o’clock that morning, destroyed. The sound of ‘Führer’ rang out more than once, and Delft’s Mayor never gave an inch. A ‘safety’ deposit of one hundred thousand dollars was demanded, and the company was further taxed just to film the streets. Extremely limited amounts of time were set for all exterior locations – and permission to film the rats was never given. The company was besieged by Dutch journalists and photographers; a day never passed without an article appearing about the film, always focusing on the rodent. The fear and paranoia of the citizenry mounted in the same way as in the film, through innuendo and rumour. A slow panic set in.

While all this was going on, Herzog continued making the film, altering his needs as necessary. When Kinski returned a few days late because no one had informed him of the schedule, Herzog shot something else. When Bruno Ganz was badly bruised falling off his horse, he shot with a double. If it rained, he bundled everyone into vans and said, ‘We wait for sun,’ and when it was so bitterly cold that everyone was nearly paralysed, he stripped to the waist – and kept filming.

Internally, morale was disintegrating. Delft is an extremely expensive city with few hotels, and a decision was made to rent a large house, put pads on the floor, hire some local girls to cook and live like monks. But this house was also the production centre and there was little privacy. Anyone off the street with nerve could walk through it day or night; hundreds of extras had to be dressed, fed and allowed access to the single toilet. The flying dog, bats, flies and other live exotica needed for the film were stored there; coffins were built in the courtyard flanking the bedrooms, and a huge pig was slaughtered there for use in a scene. After filming at four o’clock one morning, Herzog spent the remainder of the day cleaning the toilet and soothing fractured nerves.

In the midst of all this came news that Gaumont was withdrawing its support. It seemed that the Centre Nationale had to give permission for all co-productions and papers had been filed late. I asked Herzog what he was going to do. ‘I will continue discussions and make the film,’ he said, and left for the location.

It all culminated in a violent scene three days before the completion of filming in Delft. The ten thousand rats had been stored in a barn outside the town, where they were cared for by two young women biologists. But the farmer who owned the barn had not been feeding them properly and they were dying. When the girls reproached him, he kicked them off the farm and then refused to allow the production access to the animals – this at exactly the time Herzog had finally found a means of filming them. Herzog, accompanied by a few members of his team and the two women, went to retrieve them. They were met head-on by the farmer and a dozen workmen wielding all manner of farming tools as weapons. A large van was placed horizontally in the driveway to block their exit, and a truly nightmarish fight followed. Windscreens were smashed, cars were damaged, everyone was badly beaten, scratched and bruised. Herzog himself was almost killed when a workman drove a huge crane straight at him.

However, the rats were retrieved, filmed and later sold to laboratories, and the company moved on to Czechoslovakia. There, bruises and wounds healed; Kinski did work so brilliant that this non-star-loving team applauded him; the Centre Nationale and Gaumont finally sent the money – and Nosferatu at last reached completion. To me, it seemed miraculous, But I had seen the rushes and I knew Adjani was right: the film had not been touched. Something had pulled it forward.

[sloshed-cinema]

Longlegs (2024)

Osgood Perkins is a director who wears his influences on his sleeve. Reference points are tattooed onto Longlegs. But while Silence of the Lambs gets tossed around as a point here due to the young FBI agent and her pas de deux with a crazed killer, "Twin Peaks" seems a much more apt comparison. While Agent Lee Harker is a dedicated and intuitive investigator, the film itself isn't terribly interested in the nitty-gritty of a procedural. Much like Dale Cooper, Lee's methods are somewhat unorthodox and arbitrary, revelations drawn as if by magic from the air due to her connection to the case. She's given a clue in the Longlegs cipher, but many of her observations seem to merely materialize. Perkins and the film are fare more interested in using these trappings as the backdrop to an atmosphere both wonderful and strange. But while I point to the Lynch and Frost television series in defense of this, the film still stands on its own. There are parallels to those antecedents--hell, this is like the darkest episode of "Gravity Falls" ever in its surrealism inflected with dark humor--but Longlegs commands its own visual language. Static, wide shots often define the frame, and obstruction of view due to elements like a door frame confining horror to the audience's darkest thoughts as it withholds direct depiction. The film jumps between 16mm recorded memories and the present, showing flashbacks as flawed recollections or fairy tales which bleed into the present experience of Lee. Yet overt darkness lurks too: the shadowy presence of Baphomet draws ever closer as Longlegs' unholy work comes closer to fruition. The glowing eyes of the demonic dolls evoke the likes of Rosemary's Baby, but the silhouette is unique to this film. Where the recent giallo homage MaXXXine suggests that Ti West has little more than genre pastiche available to him, images aping off earlier creators who did it better, Perkins, certainly in his visual presence, commands his own attention.

Horror in its odd way goes hand in hand well with humor. The seeds of this are planted early on, Lee clearly uncomfortable and overly serious when visiting her boss' family and shown his daughter's room. The Longlegs character leans all the way into the pearl-clutching notions of Satanism, all Alice Cooper posters and 666 iconography in Dale Kobble's abode. But, as the FBI puts it, his right to practice Satanism is protected in the Constitution, a statement delivered so seriously it would have made any "SNL" guest host crack if they had to say it under the circumstances. Between the deadly serious stakes of the story and the cheeky Ari Aster style needle drop that closes out the credits, this was meant to be taken about as seriously as a Tipper Gore rock music congressional hearing.

As much as I've praised the film, I do have to temper things and note that Perkins still needs to work on his writing. Tropes and such can be useful shorthand, but this film falters in navigating between beats. We know that Lee has a troubled relationship with her mother, for instance: she hesitates to call her and is badgered by uncomfortable questions about prayer. When Lee goes to her mother's home, it's clear she's a hoarder. So why does mom have to say she never gets rid of stuff? Context clues make that readily apparent! Fortunately, any weakness from the script is overcome by bravura performances from the central duo, Maika Monroe's multilayered catatonia played off against Nic Cage's psychosis.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says 'Longlegs' or 'doll'.

You spot a subliminal background Baphomet.

Snake imagery.

Jump scare noise sting.

BIG DRINK

Nic Cage does a crazy metal vocalization.

Someone names a calendar date.

[kiigan]

@shisui-uchiha-anon

ㅤIf every day should ideally start with a hearty meal, then a birthday deserves it more than any other. And the extremes of the argument might touch, on whether one man is awake too early or instead it's the other who's oversleeping, but that hardly matters - in fact, it has been accounted for. Because the only thing better than a hearty breakfast during a birthday is a hearty breakfast during a birthday that is served on bed.

«Careful that you don't spill it all over yourself.»

ㅤA valid concern, given that Shisui indeed is still very much getting his sleep-addled brain to function, but it is also said for the sake of teasing [of course it is!], as Itachi sits down by the edge of the bed and carefully places the tray on his lover's lap.

«Hopefully, it's to your liking.»

ㅤWhich is also a way of saying that, should Shisui wish for something more or for anything else at all, it will be taken care of. Again, it is a very special day and deserving of very special treatment. Deserving also of something else, the mandatory gift that is symbolic more than anything else. Neatly packed inside a small jewelry box, which in turn is wrapped in golden paper with a red bow on top. Colors so often associated with Amaterasu-no-Mikoto, and so is the present itself.

ㅤ«Since She brought you back to me and allowed for these celebrations to happen again, I figured it would be rude to not pay Her homage through at least one of your gifts.»

ㅤOne of, yes. There is another. Far less expensive, as far as material value is concerned, and far more personal. It's one of those... gifts that probably only Itachi would come up with, because only his brain and memory would manage to get it done to such detail and only his mind and perspective on the world would think of it as something meaningful. It is, to him, and hopefully it will be to Shisui, as well. Reaching inside his pocket, he brings out a small scroll that he then hands over.

ㅤ«It's a summary of your day of birth, during every year that we spent apart. For each year, I wrote down where I was, what I was doing, anything of importance that happened, what I did to remember the day, and what I've said to you - either out loud or to myself. And I am aware this is an unorthodox thing to offer and going through it might make you upset or uncomfortable, so please don't feel pressured to actually read it. If you don't like it, even, just drop it in the trash - make sure it's the paper bin, though, so it can be recycled. I just wanted to write it down and make sure you know the date has never once gone unnoticed.»

[illimitablespaces]

Dear Reader, I must confess I am sorely disappointed I don't have any recording nor the graphical score for my piece I wrote as an homage to my cats.

This piece dates back to 2015, and I wrote it for a clarinetist while in university. A character piece, each of the four movements depicts (liberally) the character for each cat. I titled it, Four Fragments for Four Felines.

The graphic score was my first and only real venture into that medium, and it was an entertaining experience. I came to understand the workings of the clarinet better as well as understand the importance of musical phrases as likened to a sentence or physical gesture. Despite the unorthodox method, it was more scaling back to basics, in a way.

After this excursion, my writing (music, that is) has been simpler, more open-ended, and also, composed with less frequency. I can't recall the last time I actually put pen to paper, despite ideas coming to mind every now and again. I certainly miss the act of composing music, and perhaps I will resume one day. For now, simply being alive has been a task enough for me, and my musical score editing work over the past several years has been the priority. I've not had occasion to "work on myself," in a manner of speaking.

Poetry, too, has been absent from my life, in the sense that I don't compose or read much these days. It pains me, and of course, one could argue I simply need to make time for these crucial elements of my being, yet, as has been my theme for longer than I care to admit, simply "getting the job done" has taken over my work and the very act of living day to day. Wretched, to be sure.

But here's to hoping--and striving--for better days.

Take care, and be well--M

[kilolojenkinsinsl]

Dinner for One? YES!

I wish I could get mad at my love for not being in the suite when I arrived. But what was left for me more than made up for it.  A gift, flowers, letters of our time together and a scrumptious dinner for one freshly delivered right after I got my shoes off?? YES, PLEASE! I think I’ll have dessert first while I read this little note.  I’ll open my gift later… maybe 😛 ❤ Kilo DEETS Clothing &…

[third-generation-female-warrior]

(Click for better quality!)

My submission for May the Fourth:

A portrait of The Havoc Squadron - One of the most brash and efficient squads in the entire Rebel Alliance; known for being comprised entirely of clones (and Gonky), as well as their compassion, unparalleled efficiency, and their.... "unorthodox" tactics in battle.

AKA, Rebel Commander Omega Karr, with her brothers: Mox, Stak, and Deke, just before they left Pabu to join the rebellion.

Listen, I know Omega got taller, but...... yeah.

Unfiltered version + Fun facts below!

So, the notes I had for designing what I think the boys would look like,

Mox - His appearance plays a homage to Hunter, who I think became his great mentor. The bandana and grown out hair specifically. Warm tones.

Stak, Omega's primary co-pilot - I took inspiration from Cal Kestis's Survivor outfits. He's more eager for a fight than the others. But, he has the "standard trooper cut" in terms of hair. Cool tones.

Deke - Pabu clothes, Pabu style, with the notes "Give him that Howzer-level fade" as I was conceptualizing appearances. Earthy tones.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 190(?)

Slumber Party/The Snowmen

“Slumber Party”

Plot Description: The brothers call in IT expert Charlie to help them track fallen angels, and they all join forces with Dorothy to stop the Wicked Witch’s evil plans

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died, and it was a flashback to like…the 40s maybe?

I have to ask, is this basically gonna be a bottle episode at the bunker??? I’m kinda hoping so

Crowley, babes, you have basically no leverage

I LOVE when Dean just decides he’s going to get into the nitty gritty of a machine

What is THAT?!?!

He’s so done with being around nerds (despite being one himself)

Charliiiiie “they’re in a top secret place I call Amazon” re: the spn books

Charlie, baby…you are so much better off if you don’t have a destiny or quest. In THIS show???

Gross. Did the witch from the 50s reincarnate or something??

Uh…what now?? Why’d they have to make the woman hunting the “wicked” witch named Dorothy?? And she bound her soul to the witch?

Wait. No. It’s THE Dorothy?? From THE OZ BOOKS?!?!

I cannot take this episode seriously…it’s THE Dorothy and THE Wicked Witch and a game of keep away from the witch so she can’t get back to Oz… come on

COME ON!!! She got the key??? And Charlie may have sacrificed herself for Dean? She Last-Agni-Kai-Zuko-ed for him.

They’re trying to girlbossify Dorothy and…..no……no I can’t do this

There a subplot about Sam not making this place his home and I swear to Chuck if either he or Dean say “there’s no place like home” at the end, I’m not watching any more (me when I lie, but I will be annoyed)

Scrubs did the Wizard of Oz homage episode so much better

Keep the shoes, Charlie

After everything, I can’t believe I’m still feeling bad about Crowley’s situation

Omg, Charlie gets to go to Oz. THAT is not a disappointment

Of course they said it…it wasn’t in the context I THOUGHT it would be, but they still said it…and since it wasn’t in the context I thought it would be, I GUESS I’ll continue watching

“The Snowmen”

Plot Description: Christmas Eve 1892, and the fall of snow is the stuff of fairy tales. When the fairy tale becomes a nightmare and a chilling menace threatens earth, an unorthodox young governess, Clara, calls on the Doctor for help

Oh! And I know we get Definitely-Not-Named-Vriska and Jenny back this episode!!(I think)

Child, why are you actually talking to that not yet fully made snowman??

Rude. Why does snow need to feed on people??

Doctor. What on earth are you wearing?? You have…atrocious taste in headwear

Ugh, stop doing this. Stop traveling alone. Everyone tells you not to, you’ve SEEN what it does to you but you NEVER LISTEN

VASTRA! (One of these days I’ll remember her name on my own)

“Winter is coming” shouldn’t produce such a “ah ha! I see what you did there” response in me anymore…it’s a basic phrase especially in a Christmas special

I really hope Clara grows on me this time. She’s around for a while, but she’s…a little too manic pixie dream girl and everything’s a little TOO mystical around her.

I knew I recognized the voice behind the Snowmen. I knew it was a famous old wizard. But I think Moffat missed the opportunity to give the snowmen big naturals

Why is Clara only allowed to speak in one word answers?? That is……..quite the odd requirement

Omg he’s wearing Amy’s glasses still 😭

I’m thankful they didn’t make Sherlock Holmes a real person in this. Though given this was 2012, this is just cruel…putting the Doctor in the getup (this was just 7 months after Reichenbach)

Omg. There’s too much cheesiness in these episodes today. I can abide by the Doctor not realizing he put on his bow tie but I can’t take Clara saying “it’s cooler” after, even if she’s literally talking about the temperature

They’re just too alike. They’re too….I really can’t explain it. No. It’s that they’re both so clever in the exact same way. There is no “I got the bronze in gymnastics” there’s no actively studying medicine, no deep knowledge of how office life works. All of which covers the Doctor’s blindspots

I don’t like the TARDIS’s interior renovation. The lighting is too cool. I liked the warm lighting it used to have. But a 1200 year old alien didn’t consult ME

Girl, that is the quickest you’ve ever given someone a TARDIS key wtf

It’s gotta be weirdly traumatic to watch your NEW companion be dragged off by a grayish humanoid creature in a dress when we just watched Amy get zapped by the Weeping Angels last time

It’s 2012, you can’t just have your villain yell “winter is coming” over and over

Clara repeatedly dying just doesn’t pack the same punch as when it was Rory

STOP BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL. THE INSURANCE WONT PAY NEXT TIME

[sirichaiaat]

Best Japanese Restaurant Sukhumvit

Yankii Robatayaki Grill and Bar offers a fresh take on Japanese fireside grilling,serving authentic yet unorthodox dishes prepared with high-quality ingredients characterized by bold and unique flavors.Mouthwatering Robata style food, prepared & served in time-honored fashion.Paying homage to the old fashioned candy stores (Dagashi-ya) of the 90’s in Japan, join us on the first floor of Yankii for craft cocktails.

Best Japanese Restaurant Sukhumvit

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (#183):

2 by new director Shane Atkinson:

🍿 LaRoy, Texas is an excellent new homage to 'No country for old men', and to the dry, desolated land of all the forgotten small Texas towns. It's populated with loafers and small-time losers who dream about a different life. It's Coen-Brothers-Lite - That's a compliment. Down to the yellow camera filter, the twang guitar on the radio, the oddly-meandering characters, cheating wives, dirty strip joints, and a sad-sack cuckold husband who gets into serious trouble, not knowing any better. And there's this poignant melancholy overshadowing everybody's actions.

Dylan Baker is not as menacing as Anton Chigurh, but he's still terrific as a cold-blooded contract killer. There's even a good 'Where's the money, Lebowski' head-in-the-toilet scene. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes. (Thanks, Schlomo). 9/10.

🍿 "They all wear the same uniform! That's why it's called 'Uniform'..."

His first black comedy, Penny Dreadful (2013), likewise dealt with similar bumbling small-time crooks, who are tasked with the simple kidnapping of a Wednesday-Addams-type little girl, and fail spectacularly at it. Cute.

🍿

Limite is considered by many to be the greatest of all Brazilian films. The silent, experimental cult-drama from 1931 was considered 'Lost' until 1978, but was eventually discovered and restored. A man and two women are lost at sea in a leaky rowboat, and they think about their divergent pasts. The flashbacks are from tiny, isolated towns, and empty countryside roads. It's historically important with opaque symbolism and rich, arresting visuals. I found it quite impenetrable.

🍿

My first 2 by Czech comedy master Oldřich Lipský:

🍿 How come I never heard of the innovative Happy end (1967) and its successful director before? This is a wild, Dadaist black comedy which is told in real reverse-chronology. The protagonist, a butcher named Bedřich, starts by describing the circumstances of his birth, while his head rolls on the ground after being chopped by a guillotine. He then explains how he came to be accused of the murder of his wife and her lover. And from there, his life proceeds backward until his beginning/death. Long before 'Momento' and '5 X 2' and 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button', it's the first film that used this unorthodox approach (I think). It's weird and brilliant and funny and highly enjoyable. (Screenshot Above).

🍿 Lemonade Joe was another wild & inventive parody, one of the top films in Czechoslovakia in the '60s. Ten years before 'Blazing Saddles' (but without the beans), it's an early European-style Spaghetti Western fun-ride, and it includes a musical, satire and ridiculous adventures. Richard Lester inspired, with tinted stock, silent film pratfalls, and un-serious production. The story is of a 'Clean-living' singing gunslinger who cleans up an Arizona town run by drunks, fights with his archenemy Hogofogo and wins the love of a Brigitte Bardot lookalike love-interest. All the cliches from American Western spoofs are mixed into silly craziness about the son of the owner of the Colaloca lemonade brand. It even uses an early catchphrase like Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwarzenegger: When the bad guy dies by having a corkscrew stuck in his back, our hero, 'Lemonade Joe', comments: "You screwed up!"

🍿

4 unexpected gems by Neo Sora:

🍿 Ryuichi Sakamoto: Opus is a closed studio concert that the iconic Japanese instrumentalist held just a few short months before his death. The austere black & white setting of the man and his piano in an empty hall are intimate and meditative. He played 20 numbers from his long career and ended it with the soft score to 'Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence'. Another with 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes. (The director, Neo Sora, is Sakamoto's son). The trailer.

🍿 The chicken (2020) is an understated poem about a young Japanese man visiting his cousin on a hot NYC day. The focus of the story moves from one object to another, all the while Danza Filipina plays in the background. There's a "one good-looking chicken" [as Charles Grodin said in 'Midnight Run'] playing her part. Wistful. Recommended! 8/10.

🍿 Sugar Glass bottle (2022) is wild and mature neo-noir about 2 friends who prank each other. Like 'The Chicken', it moves from one mood to another unexpectedly and with great finesse. Absolutely mesmerizing 20 minutes and highly-recommended. The best film of the week!

I want to see everything this man will ever do! 9/10!

🍿 Three Daughters (2016) is a short, powerful documentary about 3 Ethiopian single mothers, who are poor, stricken with HIV, and who still exude inner strength and positive vibes. Terrific film-making! 9/10.

🍿

2 by Israeli Hagar Ben-Asher:

🍿 In her short student film Pathways (2007), she directed herself as an oversexed young woman, a promiscuous nymphomaniac, who isn't ashamed, or afraid, of her needs. She returns to the small village of her childhood, and is compulsively driven to have sex with any man who will have her. It's raw and provocative. But it includes one sexually-explicit encounter, and it ends with a brutal rape scene.

🍿"It's the last time I fix your bike"...

Four years later, she expanded that short film into a full feature, The slut. Same village, same character, same actress, same erotic dynamics (There's even a similar scene where she sits on the stairs after a bad experience, and stuffs her face with cream cakes, which she eats mechanically as compensation for some inner void!).

Here she's a reticent single mom to two small girls, and sleeps around with 3 different men, without any attachments. It seems that she in not in control of her desires, as she gives herself to anybody who wants her. When she falls in love with a forth man, a veterinarian, her boundaries get tested. It opens with a symbolic scene of a wild horse getting hit by a car, and ends with a shocking, truly unexpected twist. But on the whole, it was shallow, and un-revelatory. [*Female Director*]

🍿

Baal is a didactic filmed stage production of Bertold Brecht's first play, with David Bowie starring as the amoral anti-hero poet-scoundrel. Made by the BBC in 1982, during Bowie's experimental avant-garde period, he plays the rebellious 'Artiste' as a dirty, nasty, anti-social, banjo-playing "genius", with an ugly mouth full of decaying teeth, and no redeeming qualities. It has a selfish Nietzsche against the bourgeoisie written all over it, it's theatrical, mean-spirited and affectatious.

I was actually planning on watching Pabst's 'Threepenny Opera' from 1931 as well, but that's about all the Brecht I could take in one week.

🍿

The mortal storm (1940) is one of the few anti-Nazi Hollywood films released before America entered World War 2. It tells of a family of a Jewish professor after Hitler comes to power. But they are not called Jews, just "Non Aryans". A political thriller, that shows what happens when fascism arrives home. But it was cartoonish, syrupy and sentimental and glossed over any edgy discussion of Nazism. However, it had 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes.

Talking about creeping authoritarianism, it was horrifying to hear a Gestapo man in the movie says "I hope that the revolution will be bloodless". And on the same day, Fascist-American Kevin Roberts used the exact same quote to describe his vision of Amerika.

🍿

The 1956 version of Nineteen Eighty-Four, made only 6 years after Orwell's death, was "freely adapted" from the book, and partially-financed by the CIA. It was bad, and definitely worse than the later Richard Burton/John Hurt version from [1984...] Orwell's terrifying nightmare must have been too bleak and nuanced to adapt to the conformist 50's, so they had to simplify it into 'Communism Bad' language, and 'One guy against the system' trope. 2/10.

I wish someone would make it today, with today's political hindsight. (But not like Diana Ringo!).

🍿

The Man from Earth is a different science-fiction 'mystery' that came recommended from a friend. A young professor invites a group of friends for a drink before abruptly leaving town. In the little get-together he tells them that he's actually immortal, and that he had already lived for 14,000 years. The whole movie takes place in the cabin where he had been for 10 years, and them discussing if and how is it possible. Supposedly it is philosophical and deeply-intellectual. I liked the fact that it was a low-low-budget indie production, that it was all 'dialogue in a room', and that it was written by the author on his deathbed. But all that didn't help the lame, imbecile amateurism of the story. This is why I avoid SF movies, and why I never saw any 'Star Trek' episodes: A guy says 'Something in the physical world is not what we thought it was', and everybody discuss it. I struggled through 45 minutes before having to click it off.

🍿

The President’s Visit offers a fleeting glimpse of Lebanon. A meek young owner of a tiny soap shop, learns that the president of the republic intends to visit the sleepy, neglected coast town, and purchase some local soaps from him. For security reasons, he’s not to tell anyone about this secret visit.

🍿

2 silent films by early pioneer female directors:

🍿 Lois Weber was a central figure in of the 1910's movie history, who, together with Griffith, was "American cinema's first genuine auteur", the first woman to direct a full-length feature, and the first American woman to own a film studio.

Suspense (1913) is the first of her movies I saw, a truly suspenseful story about a home invasion, and a race to save a woman from a knife-wielding tramp. Possibly the first in the horror/slasher genre, it also featured an early split-screen for effect, an exciting car chase, innovative overhead shots, a-la Hitchcock. 9/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿 The Ocean Waif (1916), a story of a beautiful young woman, abused by her step-father, and rescued by a famous novelist. Another by the 'Mother of Cinema', Alice Guy-Blaché. This is a good time again for a shout-out to her Jodi Foster documentary Be Natural. [*Female Director*]

🍿

2 Eddie Murphy gigs for the first time:

🍿 After reading the new Eddie Murphy interview at the NYT, I realized that I never saw his 1987 stand-up Eddie Murphy: Raw. Even after 40 years, it's still the highest-grossing stand-up concert film, having made $50M. Good for him! It's raunchy, X-rated, politically-incorrect - and for the most part, fucking hilarious. It set the then-record for the highest "Fuck Count" at 223, surpassing 'Scarface' (207), but losing it 3 years later to 'Goodfellas' (300). 7/10.

🍿 The Nutty Professor on the other hand was not so fucking cute. This Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde story proved that Hollywood comedies in the '90s were gross, loud, dumb and inherently unfunny. The message it pretended to send was anti-fat-shaming, but the whole story was that he's extremely obese, so obese that he can't get into chairs. Also, that everybody of his fat family farts a lot. (The farting scenes were at least a parody of 'Blazing Saddles', so yeah.)

But this one-trick pony of 'Fat Man Farting' won an Oscar, made $274M, and probably inspired Obama to adapt his slogan 'Yes, We Can!' - 2/10.

🍿

"....Wouldn't have got the lettuce if I knew it wouldn't fit..."

Another original stand up performance Bo Burnham: Make Happy from 2016. I loved his 'Inside' Special, and his film 'Eighth Grade' very much. This one too is full of insightful and moving songs mixed with farts into the microphone and urging the audience to kill themselves. Genial, exuberant, funny, and highly creative, it's an easy 9/10.

🍿 

Re-watch of The Man Who Couldn’t Miss Screenings by mostly-obscure indie director Damon Packard. A.I. short from 2023 - Spread the word! ♻️.

(I still can't understand why my r/truefilm post from last month was deleted with ´out explanation).

🍿

I like cats and I like 'stones, so the adult animated show Stoner cats was exactly for me. 5 cats gets stoned when their old lady shares her medicinal delivery stuff with them.

The producers of this show were fined by the US-SEC because they sold unregistered NFTs as a means towards a pass to view the show. Cute.

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here).

[abigailhobbsgallobamaedu]

Are you a Cult member or the target or victim of one?

Not all cults have unorthodox religious, political, doomsday or sexual practices.

What is a cult?

A cult can also be any group of people who practice a common belief system. While most if not many cults pay homage to a single charismatic leader, many cults can practice somewhat of a hierarchy, not dissimilar to a military style chain of command.

Typically Cult Members are tasked with the recruiting of new members. This is almost universally true of all cults. Cult members may lie when unable to recruit a desired individual, making other members believe that they have succeeded in their task.

There may be an initiation period with specific tasks, not unlike those of the Greek System. Some cults will require an exchange of money, and the surrendering personal items.

Cult members are encouraged to dress in a similar manner, wear their hair in a certain way. Women may be told to dress plainly, in baggy clothing, cut their hair, wear littler no makeup. This is often true of religious cults, but could be true of any Cult. Conformity is essential.

Women are often assigned a "handler", a male figure who directs their behavior, accompanies them when they go out in public, monitors their contacts. He may be tasked with romancing her, as in a "Honey Pot" style scheme, gaining her trust in an effort to control her thoughts and behavior.

Youth is prized, especially in women and girls. Older people are not valued and seen as non-productive, and less important, at a lower level of status. Children and young adults are more easily manipulated, molded, and groomed.

Drugs and "forced drugging" are often a part of many cults, as are mind altering practices such as hypnosis, NLP, meditation and other less covert methods of control.

Basic needs are sometimes withheld as a punishment, including food, water, financial autonomy, contact with those outside the cult.

Cult members must refrain from contact with non-cult members including family and friends.

Cult members may meet and discuss strategies. Women and men often meet separately.

Cult members are "brainwashed" into thinking that they are smarter, better in every way, than non-cult members. All non-cult members are said to be stupid, mentally ill, useless.

There is almost always some sort of sexual agenda in every cult. Be it the buying and selling (trafficking) of women and girls, Older men having relations with underage girls, women forced to have sex against their will (various forms of sexual assault including rape).

There is always some sort of revenue stream, exchange of favors, barter, reward system for the desired behavior. Punishment is also administered for undesirable behavior.

Members have their safety threatened if they try to leave.

Woman are almost always targeted far more often than men.

Stay safe, know your rights. Speak up, seek legitimate help.