mastersoflight:

Southern Gothic Noir Pt. II: Night of The Hunter (Charles Laughton, 1955)

Visually one of my favorite movies of all-time, this dark fairytale is set in the swamps of the American South and borrows the language of film noir. It’s a delicious combination, and the film has been highly influential for many prominent filmmakers.

Robert Mitchum (wonderfully creepy as always) plays an unscrupulous con-artist and self-appointed preacher, who memorably uses the tattoos of “good” and “evil” on his knuckles to narrate a parable about human nature. Shelly Winters appears as the (as usual) hapless wife who ends up collateral damage in Mitchum’s scheme to find the money hidden by her now-deceased convict husband, the location of which is only known by her children. In a truly brilliant casting decision, American’s Sweetheart, Lillian Gish, is the children’s savior - a tough old hymn-singing woman with a shotgun.

The whole film is told from the children’s point of view as an eerie fairytale with frogs, rabbits and spider webs appearing in the foreground and stark expressionist sets filled with shadows.

Reblogged from motionpicturesatarevolution with 781 notes / 19.07.14 / Permalink
Reblogged from oldfilmsflicker with 1,371 notes / 19.07.14 / Permalink
theniftyfifties:

Barbara Stanwyck and Wendell Corey in ‘The File on Thelma Jordan’, 1950/

theniftyfifties:

Barbara Stanwyck and Wendell Corey in ‘The File on Thelma Jordan’, 1950/

(Source: wehadfacesthen)

Reblogged from fridacinema with 400 notes / 19.07.14 / Permalink

Faye Dunaway touches up her make-up during the filming of Chinatown’s violent climax, 1974

Faye Dunaway touches up her make-up during the filming of Chinatown’s violent climax, 1974

(Source: filmsploitation)

Reblogged from innaudiblemelodiess with 1,927 notes / 19.07.14 / Permalink
Reblogged from julia-loves-bette-davis with 567 notes / 18.07.14 / Permalink /
brightwalldarkroom:

David Foster Wallace, on seeing Blue Velvet for the first time:

"The screen gets all fuzzy now as the viewer’s invited to imagine this. Coming out of an avant garde tradition, I get to this grad school and at the grad school, turns out all the teachers are realists. They’re not at all interested in post-modern avant garde stuff. Now, there’s an interesting delusion going on here — so they don’t like my stuff. I believe that it’s not because my stuff isn’t good, but because they just don’t happen to like this kind of esthetic. In fact, known to them but unknown to me, the stuff was bad, was indeed bad. So in the middle of all this, hating the teachers, but hating them for exactly the wrong reason — this was spring of 1986 — I remember — I remember who I went to see the movie with — “Blue Velvet” comes out. “Blue Velvet” comes out. “Blue Velvet” is a type of surrealism — it may have some — it may have debts. There’s a debt to Hitchcock somewhere. But it is an entirely new and original kind of surrealism. It no more comes out of a previous tradition or the post-modern thing. It is completely David Lynch. And I don’t know how well you or your viewers would remember the film, but there are some very odd — there’s a moment when a guy named “the yellow man” is shot in an apartment and then Jeffrey, the main character, runs into the apartment and the guy’s dead, but he’s still standing there. And there’s no explanation. You know, he’s just standing there. And it is — it’s almost classically French — Francophilistically surreal, and yet it seems absolutely true and absolutely appropriate. And there was this — I know I’m taking a long time to answer your question. There was this way in which I all of a sudden realized that the point of being post-modern or being avant garde or whatever wasn’t to follow in a certain kind of tradition, that all that stuff is B.S. imposed by critics and camp followers afterwards, that what the really great artists do — and it sounds very trite to say it out loud, but what the really great artists do is they’re entirely themselves. They’re entirely themselves. They’ve got their own vision, their own way of fracturing reality, and that if it’s authentic and true, you will feel it in your nerve endings. And this is what “Blue Velvet” did for me. I’m not suggesting it would do it for any other viewer, but I — Lynch very much helped snap me out of a kind of adolescent delusion that I was in about what sort of avant garde art could be. And it’s very odd because film and books are very different media. But I remember — I remember going with two poets and one other student fiction writer to go see this and then all of us going to the coffee shop afterwards and just, you know, slapping ourselves on the forehead. And it was this truly epiphantic experience.”

brightwalldarkroom:

David Foster Wallace, on seeing Blue Velvet for the first time:

"The screen gets all fuzzy now as the viewer’s invited to imagine this. Coming out of an avant garde tradition, I get to this grad school and at the grad school, turns out all the teachers are realists. They’re not at all interested in post-modern avant garde stuff. Now, there’s an interesting delusion going on here — so they don’t like my stuff. I believe that it’s not because my stuff isn’t good, but because they just don’t happen to like this kind of esthetic.

In fact, known to them but unknown to me, the stuff was bad, was indeed bad. So in the middle of all this, hating the teachers, but hating them for exactly the wrong reason — this was spring of 1986 — I remember — I remember who I went to see the movie with — “Blue Velvet” comes out. “Blue Velvet” comes out.

“Blue Velvet” is a type of surrealism — it may have some — it may have debts. There’s a debt to Hitchcock somewhere. But it is an entirely new and original kind of surrealism. It no more comes out of a previous tradition or the post-modern thing. It is completely David Lynch. And I don’t know how well you or your viewers would remember the film, but there are some very odd — there’s a moment when a guy named “the yellow man” is shot in an apartment and then Jeffrey, the main character, runs into the apartment and the guy’s dead, but he’s still standing there. And there’s no explanation. You know, he’s just standing there. And it is — it’s almost classically French — Francophilistically surreal, and yet it seems absolutely true and absolutely appropriate.

And there was this — I know I’m taking a long time to answer your question. There was this way in which I all of a sudden realized that the point of being post-modern or being avant garde or whatever wasn’t to follow in a certain kind of tradition, that all that stuff is B.S. imposed by critics and camp followers afterwards, that what the really great artists do — and it sounds very trite to say it out loud, but what the really great artists do is they’re entirely themselves. They’re entirely themselves. They’ve got their own vision, their own way of fracturing reality, and that if it’s authentic and true, you will feel it in your nerve endings. And this is what “Blue Velvet” did for me.

I’m not suggesting it would do it for any other viewer, but I — Lynch very much helped snap me out of a kind of adolescent delusion that I was in about what sort of avant garde art could be. And it’s very odd because film and books are very different media. But I remember — I remember going with two poets and one other student fiction writer to go see this and then all of us going to the coffee shop afterwards and just, you know, slapping ourselves on the forehead. And it was this truly epiphantic experience.”

Reblogged from brightwalldarkroom with 378 notes / 16.07.14 / Permalink
thedissolve:


Whenever actors venture into politics, their performances become fodder for the dirt-digging that happens in any campaign, though the information it yields tends to range from irrelevant to unctuous. (On the latter front, Ashley Judd’s recent toe-dipping in Kentucky’s toxic political waters had Republican media hacks dashing to Mr. Skin for smearing purposes.) But the Gipper speech in Knute Rockne and the chimp comedy of Bedtime For Bonzo are nonetheless cultural touchstones for the 40th president, and consistent with the overall scope of Reagan’s career: He always played the good guy. For 25 years, as if his own Marty McFly travelled back in time to stage-manage his eventual political career, Reagan cultivated an image of bland, uncomplicated affability. 
And then he smacked Angie Dickinson in the chops on the way out the door.  

In this month’s Departures, Scott Tobias looks at the first—and last—time Ronald Reagan played a villain onscreen, in Don Siegel’s The Killers. [Read more…]

thedissolve:

Whenever actors venture into politics, their performances become fodder for the dirt-digging that happens in any campaign, though the information it yields tends to range from irrelevant to unctuous. (On the latter front, Ashley Judd’s recent toe-dipping in Kentucky’s toxic political waters had Republican media hacks dashing to Mr. Skin for smearing purposes.) But the Gipper speech in Knute Rockne and the chimp comedy of Bedtime For Bonzo are nonetheless cultural touchstones for the 40th president, and consistent with the overall scope of Reagan’s career: He always played the good guy. For 25 years, as if his own Marty McFly travelled back in time to stage-manage his eventual political career, Reagan cultivated an image of bland, uncomplicated affability. 

And then he smacked Angie Dickinson in the chops on the way out the door.  

In this month’s Departures, Scott Tobias looks at the first—and last—time Ronald Reagan played a villain onscreen, in Don Siegel’s The Killers. [Read more…]

Reblogged from thedissolve with 33 notes / 16.07.14 / Permalink

fuckindiva:

You shouldn’t kiss a girl when you’re wearing that gun… it leaves a bruise.

Murder, My Sweet (1944)

Reblogged from fuckindiva with 88 notes / 12.07.14 / Permalink /
Noirvember 5 is coming…

(Source: obligeme)

Reblogged from errolflynns with 724 notes / 10.07.14 / Permalink