There’s nothing quite like, or quite so special as, a theatrical double feature, especially one at my go-to cinema. The feeling that it isn’t over at intermission, that we’re all just stretching our legs together, standing in the concession together for coffee and snacks, standing in the bathroom line together reacting to the first film and anticipating the second, and a whole different phenomenology of seating when you return to your spot for the second half (it’s like a living…
Putting out the fire with kerosene…
A film born of the male id, coursing with masculine anxiety, with primal testosterone: a stripped-down setting, obsessed with survival (until it accepts the inevitable and pivots toward the annihilation of the unnameable other), an all-male cast constantly throwing literal fire at any threat, forcing and then watching each one cut himself, drinking whisky without ever drinking water or eating food, and the only sign of affection ever exhibited is directed toward dogs.
You know, The Thing!
Are you familiar or in love with the following:
Mastroianni's repartee with Anouk Aimée
Robert De Niro (w/ ponytail)
the Lumière brothers
the Cannes Film Festival
Gerard Depardieu's death scenes
Welles & Touch of Evil
Erich von Stroheim (in The Grand Illusion & Sunset Boulevard)
Agnès Varda (esp. Cleo, Le Bonheur, & Vagabond)
Jacques Demy (esp. Young Girls)
Then this is for you. Viewing this was…