D.O.A. is a stone-cold noir classic, featuring the famous opening of a man stumbling into a police station to report his own murder. The story, told by him to homicide detectives, takes place entirely via flashback. Frank Bigelow recounts the tale of how on a trip to San Francisco, he gets poisoned, and decides to spend the rest of his ruined vacation getting shot at and searching for his killer. The narrator/victim is an accountant, and is only thrust into the role of hard-boiled detective by his circumstances. Read more »
Archive for July, 2011
Most of us know the story: Thierry Henry slaps the ball down with his left forearm, crosses for William Gallas to head home, and Ireland is eventually left fuming and out of the 2010 World Cup. There are calls for the summary execution of a whole host of people, from Sepp Blatter all the way down to the grounds crew. The most vitriol is, of course, reserved for the referee, a Swede named Martin Hansson.
Rättskiparen, directed by Mattias Löw, documents the year leading up to Hansson’s great mistake. It follows him in all of his endeavors on the field and is granted access to him in his home and behind-the-scenes at the stadium. For those interested in the world of high-level referees, there are scenes where he jokes with stadium guards, tours the field before kickoff, and has a post-match hug with his colleagues after a good match, but the meat of the film is him as a private citizen.
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Produced and Directed by Chris Bridger, Blind Ambition is the story of an Englishman who has risen to the top of the soccer world, but despite his serious talent is nowhere near being a household name. Simon Hill, who you’ve never heard of is, is blind. If it weren’t real, it’d be a great piece of comedy, but it is real and it is about the sightless playing the beautiful game.
The rules are different—a ball that makes noise, you have to verbally declare when you’re making tackles, the goalie can see—but the passion is the same and, truth be told, the skill levels are pretty high.
It’s a short, only 12 minutes long, and I would have liked it to be about a hundred times longer. Chris isn’t particularly compelling, but then again, we have so little time to get to know him that we’re left with a sort of cliché blind guy doing great things feeling. He plays for West Ham and England and we don’t have any idea what that means, really, other than it means there’s a lot left to be explored here.
I know very few blind people, truth be told. Some legally blind folks, yes, including a woman my brother dated for a few years, but no one who is blind blind. Like, would play blind football blind. Yet I still relate immediately to this movie because it’s not about being blind, it’s about playing a game and loving doing it. And at this point I’m pretty seriously considering giving it a try.
This post is written by Isaiah Cambron. It was originally published on http://www.barcelonafootballblog.com/9778/bfb-box-office-shorts/
Another Year, recently released on DVD, is Mike Leigh’s latest foray into British middle-class realism. While all the characters in Another Year feel fleshed out and authentic, their dramas and challenges don’t always resonate. The story centers around Tom and Gerri, a married couple whose domestic life is full of gardening and mildly disapproving looks. This stands in sharp relief against their sad sack friends, who keep coming over for dinner parties only to get sloshed and start crying. Read more »
120 minutes of soccer hardly does a game justice, especially not if it is witnessed by 2 billion people and is the crowning jewel of a month-long, quadrennial tournament. As the first to be held on the continent in tournament’s 80 year history and couple with today’s digital age, the FIFA World Cup inSouth Africawas bound to be both heavily celebrated highly scrutinized.
Match 64 deals primarily with the major players in behind the World Cup, such as Sepp Blatter and Danny Jordan, FIFA president and head of South Africa’s organizing committee respectively, but also takes time to focus scenes on the players, coaches, and refs in the match and winding down to the stewards, flag bearers, and even the owner of a bike rental shop. Read more »
For all its manic explosions, swishing asses, Shia LaBeouf having temper tantrums that appear all too real – like director Michael Bay can work him into such a state of anger LaBeouf barely has to act – and, of course, giant robots battling to the death only to repeatedly get shot down by another giant robot offscreen at the last minute, Transformers 3 (in 3D, of course) did not distract me.
So I would like to say this to you:
If you’re having troubles in your life – emotional or otherwise – don’t see the movie. Like me, you will spiral down into a dark hole during the first hour and a half. (Running time: 2 ½ hours) Your eyes will remain focused on the screen, but your mind will be elsewhere: somewhere ugly, somewhere bad. Read more »
Since I can’t get myself to pay any amount of money to see Transformers III, I’ll use this space to repost two interesting takes on the film.
It starts, maybe, with the moment Frances McDormand, as an NSA bigwig, declares that evil alien robot Decepticons should pass through customs. No–earlier, when noble alien robot Autobots infiltrate some nameless Arab state to murder Arabs. It might begin when fucking asshole Michael Bay does a long tracking shot following–in 3-D!–the toned, tanned ass of impossible-looking Carly (Victoria’s Secret model Rosie Huntington-Whiteley) as she climbs a flight of stairs to straddle her ugly mutt boyfriend Sam (Shia LaBeouf)–a pairing that at least in part explains the decades-long appeal of Ron Jeremy as a porn icon. Or maybe it’s the extended profanity (“dick, asshole, clusterfuck, bitch, shit” in a long-playing loop), the wholesale and semi-graphic murder of innocents by both sides, the way the robots bleed in crimson arterial sprays in this PG-13 movie, that instigates the realization that Transformers: Dark of the Moon (hereafter Transformers: Asshole) is a new low watermark for Bay and this naughty-little-boy franchise that highlights Bay’s misogyny, puerility, and imbecility for all the world to see. Better, it works as a fine illustration of how this industry of ours that I spend a lot of time defending is in bed completely with the Michael Bays of the world, who represent, I think, the money-making potential of any industry that consents to peddle vice and venality to children. Read more »
On this, America’s Independence Day, I’ll take a few moments to speak about Sin Nombre, the debut film by director Cary Fukunaga (Jane Eyre). It’s a story of a Honduran family and a teenage gang member whose paths cross as they cling to the roof of a train headed for the US border. While the film itself is beautiful, it paints a clear picture of the stifling existence these immigrants are trying to leave behind. Read more »