rather have the blues

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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna

PAMFIR

Dmytro Sukholykyy-Sobchuk (2022) by James Clark

Romania, never occured to me. But there it is, in our film today, presenting millions of troubles and a few joys. Its ravishing mountain scene could leave one to think of a happy place. But when last in Europe, happiness could not be expected to be found. There is a kind of drunkenness, looking for power in wild custody, in fact. Along that thought would be a strange passion. Most of them would find ways to have simple dignity. But a few would need much more. They would be the heights, those who fully see. 

    And then, the crime could discover something intense, powerful, keen, fine, fierce, ardent, burning, irresistible. The melodrama is steeped by these hopes. (“You're a mummy’s boy”… All through the saga, there are actions in boxing. A hopeless thought…“Come to Poland, it pays well.”)

    Blue light! Something different. All through this story, there are touches of the true…There is even a beautiful set of curtains. Breathtaking! And in the light bulb.  An old man: “I might only have one good eye, but come see that your father is back. Don’t forget to give my papers to the pastor.” The protagonist,Gazy: “I need a work permit… (And, smuggling has been used for cigarettes going into Romania.)

    Gazy caressing his wife… Seeing themselves in the mirror. "I’m going to stay, but only for two weeks…”/ “ He needs a father around. He doesn’t have a role model… He needs an iron hand. I can’t manage him. Order…  And we still haven’t paid off the house…”/“I want you to stay forever. Don’t leave again.” /“Stay here to work for peanuts?”/“I just love your voice…” (No Vision…)/ “Your money won’t make you a better dad… Leonid…Stay. Don’t go back… You don’t even know the brakes… religion program on the powers of God… ”(His wife: “My father took out one eye, but didn’t take the other. Stop your nonsense. What did you promise the priest?”)

    “To go better than others. Hey, watch your hands…” Real adventure. Glory to God! All scream! (Brought you my husband’s papers.) Nazar, the boy who burned the church. Your father never comes to church. He’s angry with God. He needs time to understand. God puts each of us to the test.Tell your father to come to church with your mother.“/"Don’t tell Mom, she’ll kill me.”/“You’re punished; no bicycle… Go to church, practise, and don’t miss a day../ (Try to pay for it…) I need 600 euros!” In the dark… 

    Smuggling, even the priest is in. On the first try, there is success and failure. The trupe carries large boxes on their backs. They march in a very stated movement, paced beautifully in their steep work. In fact the action seems to be a dance. The woods are beautified. This crime is magic. 

Riveting.

Lights.

Is there a moment which has not been touched. 

Finding the treasure.

Into the woods.

In mist… beauty.

Animal sounds… A call!

The beauties of the flowers. Amaryllis!

Can you see them… Over…

Pamfir.

Seeking.

A race…

Lights and noise.

All interacting.

Ancient.

Small light.

A time for the future.

It’s not so simple.

Beautiful and strange.

Hide!

A new life.

The cows, around to give birth…

Humility.

Finding. 

I’m coming to find you…

Hands.

Don’t worry, it’s an easy job.

The brave.

A monster.

Pictures of beauty; pictures of strangeness.

Currents.

Hold your hands in the air.

Brave.

Blue lights! The flights!

Dying planet.

Fires.

The skies within horror! 

The easy job kills Nazar! The latter knew. The latter wanted to die. Where is the zeal: passion, ardour, love, fervour, fire, avidity, devotion, enthousiast, radical, Young Turk, relish, gusto…

Such matters are true.

The skies rip the dying moments. Other places could be right.    

 PAMFIR

PAMFIR ;  Dmytro Sukholykyy-Sobchuk (2022)

by James Clark

Romania, never occured to me. But there it is, in our film today, presenting millions of troubles and a few joys. Its ravishing mountain scene could leave one to think of a happy place. But when last in Europe, happiness could not be expected to be found. There is a kind of drunkenness, looking for power in wild custody, in fact. Along that thought would be a strange passion. Most of them would find ways to have simple dignity. But a few would need much more. They would be the heights, those who fully see. 

    And then, the crime could discover something intense, powerful, keen, fine, fierce, ardent, burning, irresistible. The melodrama is steeped by these hopes. (“You're a mummy’s boy”… All through the saga, there are actions in boxing. A hopeless thought…“Come to Poland, it pays well.”)

    Blue light! Something different. All through this story, there are touches of the true…There is even a beautiful set of curtains. Breathtaking! And in the light bulb.  An old man: “I might only have one good eye, but come see that your father is back. Don’t forget to give my papers to the pastor.” The protagonist,Gazy: “I need a work permit… (And, smuggling has been used for cigarettes going into Romania.)

    Gazy caressing his wife… Seeing themselves in the mirror. "I’m going to stay, but only for two weeks…”/ “ He needs a father around. He doesn’t have a role model… He needs an iron hand. I can’t manage him. Order…  And we still haven’t paid off the house…”/“I want you to stay forever. Don’t leave again.” /“Stay here to work for peanuts?”/“I just love your voice…” (No Vision…)/ “Your money won’t make you a better dad… Leonid…Stay. Don’t go back… You don’t even know the brakes… religion program on the powers of God… ”(His wife: “My father took out one eye, but didn’t take the other. Stop your nonsense. What did you promise the priest?”)

    “To go better than others. Hey, watch your hands…” Real adventure. Glory to God! All scream! (Brought you my husband’s papers.) Nazar, the boy who burned the church. Your father never comes to church. He’s angry with God. He needs time to understand. God puts each of us to the test.Tell your father to come to church with your mother.“/"Don’t tell Mom, she’ll kill me.”/“You’re punished; no bicycle… Go to church, practise, and don’t miss a day../ (Try to pay for it…) I need 600 euros!” In the dark… 

    Smuggling, even the priest is in. On the first try, there is success and failure. The trupe carries large boxes on their backs. They march in a very stated movement, paced beautifully in their steep work. In fact the action seems to be a dance. The woods are beautified. This crime is magic. 

Riveting.

Lights.

Is there a moment which has not been touched. 

Finding the treasure.

Into the woods.

In mist… beauty.

Animal sounds… A call!

The beauties of the flowers. Amaryllis!

Can you see them… Over…

Pamfir.

Seeking.

A race…

Lights and noise.

All interacting.

Ancient.

Small light.

A time for the future.

It’s not so simple.

Beautiful and strange.

Hide!

A new life.

The cows, around to give birth…

Humility.

Finding. 

I’m coming to find you…

Hands.

Don’t worry, it’s an easy job.

The brave.

A monster.

Pictures of beauty; pictures of strangeness.

Currents.

Hold your hands in the air.

Brave.

Blue lights! The flights!

Dying planet.

Fires.

The skies within horror! 

The easy job kills Nazar! The latter knew. The latter wanted to die. Where is the zeal: passion, ardour, love, fervour, fire, avidity, devotion, enthousiast, radical, Young Turk, relish, gusto…

Such matters are true.

The skies rip the dying moments. Other places could be right.    

THE STARLING GIRL


Review of “The Starling Girl”


by James Clark

     The Niagara Falls Attraction, allows one to reach more than fun. Its geographic centre would be unfathomable. Our protagonist, Starling, would also be unfathomable. Before that, though, we have deliveries of the elements, with many colors and powers.

    Our protagonist is first seen within a Kentucky church, where she masters being skilled in a choreography dance of her own idea, at the age of seventeen. The girls seem to be excited about being involved there. Much gusto; dancing eyes, but also wit and grace. What could be better, for young sensibility?

    Although we have the markings of fresh power, there is a mountain of woe. And its augury has the name , starling. Starling is not only about dark cover, but morose ways, quagmires, swamps, bogs, marsh, mire, slough, muddle….

    The Niagara Falls Attraction, allows one to reach more than fun. Its geographic centre would be unfathomable. Our protagonist, Starling, would also be unfathomable. Before that, though, we have deliveries of the elements, with many colors and powers.

    Our protagonist is first seen within a Kentucky church, where she masters being skilled in a choreography dance of her own idea, at the age of seventeen. The girls seem to be excited about being involved there. Much gusto; dancing eyes, but also wit and grace. What could be better, for young sensibility?

    Although we have the markings of fresh power, there is a mountain of woe. And its augury has the name , Starling. Starling is not only about dark cover, but morose ways, quagmires, swamps, bogs, marsh, mire, slough, muddle,..

The Niagara Falls Attraction, allows one to reach more than fun. Its geographic centre would be unfathomable. Our protagonist, Starling, would also be unfathomable. Before that, though, we have deliveries of the elements, with many colors and powers.


Our protagonist is first seen within a Kentucky church, where she masters being skilled in a choreography dance of her own idea, at the age of seventeen. The girls seem to be excited about being involved there. Much gusto; dancing eyes, but also wit and grace. What could be better, for young sensibility?

    Although we have the markings of fresh power in the skies, there is a mountain of woe. And its augury has the name , starling. Starling is not only about dark cover, but morose ways, quagmires, swamps, bogs, marsh, mire, slough, muddle…

    The ways of the rebel, where deep motion lies. The rich green farms. Follow the currents.

    The randy in-second-power-loveliness,would find Starling that she had made a mistake. To fix, sort of, our protagonist would leave Kentucky and never see her family again. Her country music job did not do the trick.


    The flowing heart.

    Hands.

    The priest. It’s like a gun.

     Why did you come back from Costa Rica? (The randy second-power.) It was time.

    How much can this be expended?

    Starling, and her focus upon the motion.

    That was a mouthful.

    Her feeling, mystic.

    The skies.

    Two hands, into the sky.

    Cut to lying in the grass.

    Dream.

    To begin the path.

    Mom’s shock.

    Many colors.

    This fire would go all night.

    The night.

    She runs in the dark.

    A whissing sound in the dark.

    Face to face.

    Was falling…

    Ways of depths.

    Morose.

    Chickens in the back.

    Puerto Rico.

    Dance.

    Deep voice of nothing.

    Her car.

    Yellow flames which could berrer.

    The cosmos.

    Long kissing.

    Save my sins.

    Hands up, in the dance.

    But can she make real depth?

    All the way… sort of.

    In the dark.

    Spishing. (Irony.)


    The current.

    He: “I don’t seem to be a criminal.

    Big water going downwards. Like Niagara Falls.

    There are powers of dancing. Powers we can know and love.

    Jen (Starling), using her arms as a power…

    Jen, going very far.

    Jen, looking to the skies at dark. It’s power.

     We could go anywhere, out of Kentucky.

    Leaving the church.

    Like a jail.

    Lostness.

    Movement.

    Without a leap there is no hope…Like a bad dog.  Move, move…

    Hands trying to make a real move.

    Fingers… Arms…

    The boyfriend, and the Protagonist.

    Anxious.

    Philosophy.

    The dark and the beautiful.

    She driving.

    She believes in how to work.

    Her hands.

    Movement.


    Samual Johnson (1709-1775)

    Although Johnson became a giant in philosophy, there was in his powers a strain of disease, namely, Tourette Syndrome. As we begin this part, we need to deal with it as a giant failure. You must find the courage to be very strange.

A

    After we came out of the church, we stood talking of Bishop Berkeley’s ingenious sophistry to prove the non-existence of matter, and that everything in the universe is merely ideal. I observed that though we are satisfied his doctrine is merely ideal, it is impossible to refute it. I never shall forget the alacrity with such against his foot with mighty force against a large stone refoot, till he rebounded from it—“I refute thus.” This was a stout exemplification of the first truth of Pere Bouffier, or the original principles of Reid and Beattie; without admitting which, we can no more argue in metaphysics, than we argue  admitting which, we can no more argue in metaphysics, than we can argue in mathematics without axioms. To me it is not conceivable how Berkeley can be answered by pure reasoning; but I know that the nice and difficult task was to have been undertaken by one of the most luminous minds of the present age, had not politics “turned him  from calm philosophy aside.” What  an admirable display of subtlety, united with brilliance, might his contending with Berkeley have afforded us! How must we, when we, when we reflect on Berkeley, have afforded us! How must we, when we, when reflect on  the loss of such an intellectual feast, regret that on the loss of such  of such an intellectual feast that he should character as the man,

                                  “Who born for the universe narrowed his mind,

                                    And the party gave up what was meant for mankind?”

 B

    In our way, Johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast and ast in a post-chaise. “If (said he) I had no duties and know reference to the future, I would spend my life driving briskly in a post office with  a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me,” and would add something to the conversation.” I observed that we were this day to stop just  where the Highland army did in 1745. Johnson. “It was a noble attempt.” Boswell. “I wish we could have an authentic history of it.” Johnson. “If you are not an idle dog you might write it, collecting from everybody what they can tell, and putting down your authorities.”

C

     From grave to gay, from lively to severe,”— we were soon engaged in very different speculation; humbly and reverently considering and wondering at the universal mystery of all things, as our imperfect faculties can judge them.  “There are (said he) innumerable questions to which the inquisitive mind can in this state receive no answer: Why do  you and I exist? Why was this world created? Since it was to be created, why was’t it created sooner?”

D

    “Dear Sir.

         “It has pleased God, this morning, to deprive me of the of the powers of speech; and as I do not know but that it may be his further good pleasure to deprive me soon of  by my senses, I request you will on receipt of this of this note, come to me, and  act for me, as the exigencies of my require.

                                                                                   “I am sincerely Sam Johnson.”

E

    “Mr. Clark compares the obstinacy of those who disbelieve genuineness of Ossian to a blind man, who should dispute the reality of colours, and deny that the British troops are clothed in red. The blind man’s doubt, would be rational, if he did not know by experience that others have a power which he himself wants: but experience that others have a power which he himself wants: but what perspicacity has Mr. Clark which Nature has withheld from me or the rest of mankind?”

F

    … His maxims carries conviction; for they are founded on the of common sense, and a very attentive and minute survey of real life. His mind was so full of imagery, that he might have been perpetually a poet; yet it is remarkable, that however rich his prose is in this respect, his poetical pieces, in general, do not have much splender…

The Banshees of Inisherin; Martin Donagh  2022 Impasse “I just don’t like like you no more.”  by    James Clark   2023

            “He Remembers  Forgotten   Beauty” When my arms wrap you round I press+My heart upon the lovelinessThat has faded from the world;The jewelled crowns that kings have hurledIn shadowy pools, when armies fled;The love-tales wrought with silken threadBy dreaming ladies upon clothThat has made fat the murderous moth;The roses that of old time wereWoven by ladies in their hair,The dew-cold lilies ladies boreThrough many a sacred corridorWhere such grey clouds of incense rose:For that pale breast and lingering handCome from a more dream-heavy land,A more dream-heavy hour than this;And when you sigh from from kiss to kissI hear white Beauty sighing, too,For hours  fade when all must like dew,But flame on flame, and deep on deep,Thone over throne where in half sleep,Their swords upon their iron knees.Brood her high lonely mysteries.
The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats
   In a village, years ago, there was an Irishman, Padrac, who needed help to discover an understanding of the ways of life. He had a friend, Colm, a musician, a serious musician. Although Padrac had no skills in music, he insisted that Colm could do the trick, just by hanging around. After a while Colm came to the point, “I just don’t like you any more.”     The intensity of the protagonist, Padrac, slips into horror. Even more serious, the musician becomes driven to war, almost losing his touch for depth. (Ironically, the Irish Civil War of 1923 was about to end. An end that had no involvement in this little backwood.) However, the beauty all around must not be lost. In fact, it is our focus which drives this film. (We have another long moment of nonsense, for the money. [ripping off knuckles]; along with a brilliant tonality.)    Early on, if you see the real matter: shadow, over the countryside. Many directions. A rainbow! Seagulls. A rich green turf…Domain! Then there are sheep! Many sheep. Steeples… Sea and mountain… Into prodigious areias, and their actions. Their hearts, aglow.     Padrac encounters the kid, Barry, during Padrac’s lost for his friend. Colm’s attack had left the protagonist in shock. However, at another moment  there was an attack by way of Barry, upon baby birds, with a nasty club. (His thought was, “He’d be after you…I can’t stand him… Some fancy colleen… "What means a man?”/ “That means a man?”/ “And then it’s not possible… The kid had been seen as a fool.”    Padrac’s sister encounters Barry. He maintains that people go in a beautiful way… (Does that seem to be him?) How people go… It’s beautiful… (There is a moment of seeing the sea…)… Going to say… What I say… I was going to say something in common…/  "What do you mean? We don’t have anything in common.“/ Barry: "Don’t you think… Saying…that the shore is a treat… (So empty, but so needy.) A… was thinking of… in the future. Cut to the sister. She shakes her head. Cut to Barry: "Yeah… Yeah… Like the shore… sort of… (His body movement reaches for a true moment… There goes that dream… His body-language plays with his fingers…twisting…” I was going to build a place over there…“ (She smiles, "A good idea”.) He twists. She moves away. He looks around… takes off his hat. (Barry’s confusion brings to us the matter of needing others. For many, one can understand a horde. But a creature like the kid, who quickly hates the musician, and by way misses his real friend, there are great dangers. Many such careless blunders never reach wisdom. And yet it is there. Those who have the idea must do more. One’s needs might be from the past. One might be close. And currents to the rescue!)    Later, he looks around. Takes off his hat… Found dead in a ratty reservoir.    One has to ease-up the horror, in order to reach the authority. Padrac, at home, with his donkey.The donkey is fine in the house, when the sister isn’t. Jenny, the donkey, makes a fine friend to snuggle. During a stupid race, between the two haters of power, the stage was set for a race between Jenny and Calm’s horse, which resulted in the death of Jenny. Padrac shook it off in a day. And yet he still has much to offer!    The blue sea. Two birds by the sea. Laundry on the line. The third person, an old lady with a pipe. By the window. (Open your eyes. Open your heart. Magic is close.) Padrac lights the light. How the lights reflect on the window, as if a magical hope. (Light becomes a magical dance!) Fog… to be loved. The light becomes normal…   Once again the fire of the rock face. He feels hopelessness.     Back to the drinks (J.J. Devine). Peer into the window.  Seeming to be wrong… Colm, playing the violin. Waiting to be wonderful…     Along this way, a magnificent white goat and her beautiful young, in one. How an animal can be magic. Seagulls. Beautiful sunset. An ancient rock. Seagulls in the sky. Away they go. Discovery in many ways. Cut to the seas… A sad  song… A dance of joy. The three fiddles. An accordion. Now a drum… He looks at the rain… It was just the whisky, not serious.    Sunset, a memory… Snow… A lizard. Birds in flight. Brilliant. Caring. Try to find its range. In another language. Trists…the calms…A flash… Covering the compass. A new kind of flickering. How far it can change… Being carried by millions.    Cut to the black donkey. Padrac shows his vision. The sky is blue. (That was before.) The sea again. Pondering… Red sun. The sad… A great cloud, and its directions… Attentive… By hand…                                          

Martin Donagh

Martin McDonagh’s “The Banshees of Inisherin”: Impasse: ‘I just don’t like you no more.’

by James Clark   2023 

——–

image

    

“He Remembers  Forgotten   Beauty”When my arms wrap you round I pressMy heart upon the lovelinessThat has faded from the world;The jewelled crowns that kings have hurledIn shadowy pools, when armies fled;The love-tales wrought with silken threadBy dreaming ladies upon clothThat has made fat the murderous moth;The roses that of old time wereWoven by ladies in their hair,The dew-cold lilies ladies boreThrough many a sacred corridorWhere such grey clouds of incense rose:For that pale breast and lingering handCome from a more dream-heavy land,A more dream-heavy hour than this;And when you sigh from from kiss to kissI hear white Beauty sighing, too,For hours  fade when all must like dew,But flame on flame, and deep on deep,Thone over throne where in half sleep,Their swords upon their iron knees.Brood her high lonely mysteries.-The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats    In a village, years ago, there was an Irishman, Padrac, who needed help to discover an understanding of the ways of life. He had a friend, Colm, a musician, a serious musician. Although Padrac had no skills in music, he insisted that Colm could do the trick, just by hanging around. After a while Colm came to the point, “I just don’t like you any more.”

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Martin McDonagh

Martin McDonagh’s “The Banshees of Inisherin”: Impasse: ‘I just don’t like you no more.’

by James Clark   2023     


“He Remembers  Forgotten   Beauty”


When my arms wrap you round I pressMy heart upon the lovelinessThat has faded from the world;The jewelled crowns that kings have hurledIn shadowy pools, when armies fled;The love-tales wrought with silken threadBy dreaming ladies upon clothThat has made fat the murderous moth;The roses that of old time wereWoven by ladies in their hair,The dew-cold lilies ladies boreThrough many a sacred corridorWhere such grey clouds of incense rose:For that pale breast and lingering handCome from a more dream-heavy land,A more dream-heavy hour than this;And when you sigh from from kiss to kissI hear white Beauty sighing, too,For hours  fade when all must like dew,But flame on flame, and deep on deep,Thone over throne where in half sleep,Their swords upon their iron knees.Brood her high lonely mysteries.-The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats    In a village, years ago, there was an Irishman, Padrac, who needed help to discover an understanding of the ways of life. He had a friend, Colm, a musician, a serious musician. Although Padrac had no skills in music, he insisted that Colm could do the trick, just by hanging around. After a while Colm came to the point, “I just don’t like you any more.”

The intensity of the protagonist, Padrac, slips into horror. Even more serious, the musician becomes driven to war, almost losing his touch for depth. (Ironically, the Irish Civil War of 1923 was about to end. An end that had no involvement in this little backwood.) However, the beauty all around must not be lost. In fact, it is our focus which drives this film. (We have another long moment of nonsense, for the money. [ripping off knuckles]; along with a brilliant tonality.)     Early on, if you see the real matter: shadow, over the countryside. Many directions. A rainbow! Seagulls. A rich green turf…Domain! Then there are sheep! Many sheep. Steeples… Sea and mountain… Into prodigious areias, and their actions. Their hearts, aglow.    Padrac encounters the kid, Barry, during Padrac’s lost for his friend. Colm’s attack had left the protagonist in shock. However, at another moment  there was an attack by way of Barry, upon baby birds, with a nasty club. (His thought was, “He’d be after you…I can’t stand him… Some fancy colleen… “What means a man?”/ “That means a man?”/ “And then it’s not possible… The kid had been seen as a fool.”

   Padrac’s sister encounters Barry. He maintains that people go in a beautiful way… (Does that seem to be him?) How people go… It’s beautiful… (There is a moment of seeing the sea…)… Going to say… What I say… I was going to say something in common…/  “What do you mean? We don’t have anything in common.”/ Barry: “Don’t you think… Saying…that the shore is a treat… (So empty, but so needy.) A… was thinking of… in the future. Cut to the sister. She shakes her head. Cut to Barry: “Yeah… Yeah… Like the shore… sort of… (His body movement reaches for a true moment… There goes that dream… His body-language plays with his fingers…twisting…” I was going to build a place over there…”

(She smiles, “A good idea”.) He twists. She moves away. He looks around… takes off his hat. (Barry’s confusion brings to us the matter of needing others. For many, one can understand a horde. But a creature like the kid, who quickly hates the musician, and by way misses his real friend, there are great dangers. Many such careless blunders never reach wisdom. And yet it is there. Those who have the idea must do more. One’s needs might be from the past. One might be close. And currents to the rescue!)

Later, he looks around. Takes off his hat… Found dead in a ratty reservoir.One has to ease-up the horror, in order to reach the authority. Padrac, at home, with his donkey.The donkey is fine in the house, when the sister isn’t. Jenny, the donkey, makes a fine friend to snuggle. During a stupid race, between the two haters of power, the stage was set for a race between Jenny and Calm’s horse, which resulted in the death of Jenny. Padrac shook it off in a day. And yet he still has much to offer!The blue sea. Two birds by the sea. Laundry on the line. The third person, an old lady with a pipe. By the window. (Open your eyes. Open your heart. Magic is close.) Padrac lights the light. How the lights reflect on the window, as if a magical hope. (Light becomes a magical dance!) Fog… to be loved. The light becomes normal…   Once again the fire of the rock face. He feels hopelessness.

Back to the drinks (J.J. Devine). Peer into the window.  Seeming to be wrong… Colm, playing the violin. Waiting to be wonderful…    Along this way, a magnificent white goat

and her beautiful young,

in one. How an animal can be magic. Seagulls. Beautiful sunset. An ancient rock. Seagulls in the sky. Away they go. Discovery in many ways. Cut to the seas… A sad  song… A dance of joy. The three fiddles. An accordion. Now a drum… He looks at the rain… It was just the whisky, not serious.Sunset, a memory… Snow… A lizard. Birds in flight. Brilliant. Caring. Try to find its range. In another language. Trists…the calms…A flash… Covering the compass. A new kind of flickering. How far it can change… Being carried by millions.    Cut to the black donkey. Padrac shows his vision. The sky is blue. (That was before.) The sea again. Pondering… Red sun. The sad… A great cloud, and its directions… Attentive… By hand…

Davy Chou  RETURN TO SEOUL 2022

                                        SEEKERS  by James Clark 2023

    The film, Return to Seoul (2022), could be said to be both deep and cheap. The remarkable moments are nothing less but bewitching. A study of film technology and greatness. However, our filmic work does not even carry one percent of the load. That tells us where we’re going. But even so, we’re in for a treat. Chou has such a wit as to fire, that melancholy becomes a strange power.

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davy chou

Claire Denis’ STARS AT NOON: “I think maybe a big mistake…”

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by James Clark  2023

       At the conclusion of her brilliant career, filmmaker, Claire Denis, staged a couple of shocking films (far beyond her usual mayhem). The first entry, Both Sides of the Blade (2022), amounts to a protagonist-humanitarian, concluding that blacks in France are ruinous. The second film (with its second humanitarian), Stars at Noon (2022), chooses philosophy; but getting to the nub is a bugger; and a treasure. In fact, we must visit the precinct of Marcel Proust (1871-1922), in order to understand Denis’ venture, her disappointment and her glee. Proust and the landslide of advantage. His hopeless bid to break free from it. Finding in tiny moments what he meant.

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claire denis

CLAIRE DENIS: Nenette and Boni “I can feel it moving”

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by James Clark  2023

Falling apart has had its fortune. In the course of tending to complete the film, Nenette and Boni, I expected (as with the double parts in the proceedings in, Both Sides of the Blade) a happy result. The strictness of the Henri  Mouron dealing put an end to that hope (“all rights reserved”). All I can say is that the graphic artist, A.M.Cassandre, was a giant, his advertising work, touching those who could engage the lithographic magic. That he ended his life by suicide, must not be a way of demeaning the effort.

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claire denis