New York City's premiere resource for classic film screenings in the metropolitan area. Offering reviews, recommendations, venues and a host of links keeping classic film and the silver screens alive.
The rep menu is slimmer, but no less inviting this brisk December day. Or is it May? I'll listen to anyone's best guess. Anybody? Anyone at all? March? October? Is anyone still alive out there???
It's a weird September lull on the movie scene, for both the first-run and rep circuits. Michaël R. Roskam's THE DROP, released last Friday, is among the more exceptional films I've seen all year, and a new Terry Gilliam, coming this weekend, is always cause for joyous anticipation. Beyond that the pickin's be slim. Thank god the repertory programmers are the busy bees they are, ensuring some semblance of attendance-worthy cinema graces our city's screens. Today's sked may be slim, but it's also golden.
In the wee small hours of September 11th, 2001, I returned home after catching a screening of Kevin Smith's JAY AND SILENT BOB STRIKE BACK, stepped out of a cab on the corner of Bleecker Street and La Guardia Place. And, as was my wont, as I'd spent my childhood dreaming of living in Manhattan and had, at that point, been the realizer of said dream for 7 years, paused at the corner, looked down West Broadway at my perfect view of the Twin Towers, and reminded myself that I'd been trying to learn to whistle. So I practiced a few feeble attempts, gazed at the old boys, and took note once more how lucky I was to be in NYC. Since then I've managed to master a very rudimentary version of Whistle While You Work. I never perform it without a specific set of listeners in mind.
Just re-watched Tim Burton's last great film, perhaps his best film, for the first time in over 10 years; 1994's ED WOOD, in advance of Anthology Film Archives' looming retrospective of the man's infamy. Which left me with two residual emotions: 1. It almost makes me love Oyster Boy all over again, the fact that he used this opportunity to tell his mad scientist tale, in the guise of a fellow misfit director no less, and in so doing granted both Bela Lugosi and Wood a mortality rewrite, as well as a mortal re-evaluation, and 2. I'm actually considering revisiting these beloved works of emulsified madness even though I've borne witness in communal darkness numerous times prior. Wood is just that potentially infectious, something Burton not only learned but communicated most eloquently 20 years ago. Those future events will affect you in the future, though, can your heart stand the shocking details of today's rep film sked?
Tough choices to be made on NYC's rep film circuit today. Two of 'em, to be exact. A last grab for greatness, or at the very least relevance, by one of Hollywood's greatest filmmakers, and a canny and caustic tale of a soldier's desertion during WWI. Dear god, it is NFL season, isn't it?