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lettertojane:

OPEN LETTER TO JOHN CASSAVETES 

by Jim Jarmusch.
 
There’s a particular feeling I get when I’m about to see one of your films – an anticipation. It doesn’t matter if I’ve seen the film before or not (by now I think I’ve seen them all at least several times) I still get that feeling. I’m expecting something I seem to crave, a kind of cinematic enlightenment. As a film fan or as a filmmaker (there isn’t really a clear dividing line for me anymore) I’m anticipating a blast of inspiration. I want formal enlightenment. I need the secret consequences of a jump-cut to be revealed to me. I want to know how the rawness of the camera angles or the grain of the film material figures into the emotional equation. I want to learn about acting from the performances, about atmosphere from the light and locations. I’m ready, fully prepared to absorb “truth at twenty-four-frames-per-second.”
But the thing is this: as soon as the film begins, introduces its world to me, I’m lost. The expectation of that particular enlightenment evaporates. It leaves me there in the dark, alone. Human beings now inhabit that world inside the screen. They also seem lost, alone. I watch them. I observe every detail of their movements, their expressions, their reactions. I listen carefully to what each one is saying, to the frayed edges of someone’s tone of voice, the concealed mischief in the rhythm of another’s speech. I’m no longer thinking about acting. I’m oblivious to “dialogue.” I’ve forgotten the camera.
The enlightenment I anticipated from you is being replaced by another. This one doesn’t invite analysis or dissection, only observation and intuition. Instead of insights into, say, the construction of a scene, I’m becoming enlightened by the sly nuances of human nature.  
Your films are about love, about trust and mistrust, about isolation, joy, sadness, ecstasy and stupidity. They’re about restlessness, drunkenness, resilience and lust, about humor, stubbornness, miscommunication and fear. But mostly they’re about love and they take one to a far deeper place than any study of “narrative form.” Yeah, you are a great filmmaker, one of my favorites. But what your films illuminate most poignantly is that celluloid is one thing and the beauty, strangeness and complexity of human experience is another.
John Cassavetes, my hat is off to you. I’m holding it over my heart.


(from the book “John Casavetes: Lifeworks” by Tom Charity.)

lettertojane:

OPEN LETTER TO JOHN CASSAVETES 

by Jim Jarmusch.

 

There’s a particular feeling I get when I’m about to see one of your films – an anticipation. It doesn’t matter if I’ve seen the film before or not (by now I think I’ve seen them all at least several times) I still get that feeling. I’m expecting something I seem to crave, a kind of cinematic enlightenment. As a film fan or as a filmmaker (there isn’t really a clear dividing line for me anymore) I’m anticipating a blast of inspiration. I want formal enlightenment. I need the secret consequences of a jump-cut to be revealed to me. I want to know how the rawness of the camera angles or the grain of the film material figures into the emotional equation. I want to learn about acting from the performances, about atmosphere from the light and locations. I’m ready, fully prepared to absorb “truth at twenty-four-frames-per-second.”

But the thing is this: as soon as the film begins, introduces its world to me, I’m lost. The expectation of that particular enlightenment evaporates. It leaves me there in the dark, alone. Human beings now inhabit that world inside the screen. They also seem lost, alone. I watch them. I observe every detail of their movements, their expressions, their reactions. I listen carefully to what each one is saying, to the frayed edges of someone’s tone of voice, the concealed mischief in the rhythm of another’s speech. I’m no longer thinking about acting. I’m oblivious to “dialogue.” I’ve forgotten the camera.

The enlightenment I anticipated from you is being replaced by another. This one doesn’t invite analysis or dissection, only observation and intuition. Instead of insights into, say, the construction of a scene, I’m becoming enlightened by the sly nuances of human nature.  

Your films are about love, about trust and mistrust, about isolation, joy, sadness, ecstasy and stupidity. They’re about restlessness, drunkenness, resilience and lust, about humor, stubbornness, miscommunication and fear. But mostly they’re about love and they take one to a far deeper place than any study of “narrative form.” Yeah, you are a great filmmaker, one of my favorites. But what your films illuminate most poignantly is that celluloid is one thing and the beauty, strangeness and complexity of human experience is another.

John Cassavetes, my hat is off to you. I’m holding it over my heart.

(from the book “John Casavetes: Lifeworks” by Tom Charity.)

Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in Howard Hawks’s His girl Friday
Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in Howard Hawks’s His girl Friday
Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in Howard Hawks’s His girl Friday

Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in Howard Hawks’s His girl Friday

Orson Welles - The Lady From Shanghai, 1947
Orson Welles - The Lady From Shanghai, 1947
Orson Welles - The Lady From Shanghai, 1947
Orson Welles - The Lady From Shanghai, 1947
Orson Welles - The Lady From Shanghai, 1947

Orson Welles - The Lady From Shanghai, 1947

Robert Mitchum in Cape Fear, 1962
Robert Mitchum in Cape Fear, 1962

Robert Mitchum in Cape Fear, 1962

Closely Watched Trains, 1966
Closely Watched Trains, 1966
Closely Watched Trains, 1966

Closely Watched Trains, 1966

Stefania Sandrelli, Io la conoscevo bene (I knew her well)
Stefania Sandrelli, Io la conoscevo bene (I knew her well)
Stefania Sandrelli, Io la conoscevo bene (I knew her well)
Stefania Sandrelli, Io la conoscevo bene (I knew her well)
Stefania Sandrelli, Io la conoscevo bene (I knew her well)

Stefania Sandrelli, Io la conoscevo bene (I knew her well)

nickdrake:

Rare images of the Dr Strangelove custard pie fight

A special glimpse at the famous custard pie fight finale that was shot but cut out of Stanley Kubrick’s cold war masterpiece Dr Strangelove.
nickdrake:

Rare images of the Dr Strangelove custard pie fight

A special glimpse at the famous custard pie fight finale that was shot but cut out of Stanley Kubrick’s cold war masterpiece Dr Strangelove.
nickdrake:

Rare images of the Dr Strangelove custard pie fight

A special glimpse at the famous custard pie fight finale that was shot but cut out of Stanley Kubrick’s cold war masterpiece Dr Strangelove.
nickdrake:

Rare images of the Dr Strangelove custard pie fight

A special glimpse at the famous custard pie fight finale that was shot but cut out of Stanley Kubrick’s cold war masterpiece Dr Strangelove.
nickdrake:

Rare images of the Dr Strangelove custard pie fight

A special glimpse at the famous custard pie fight finale that was shot but cut out of Stanley Kubrick’s cold war masterpiece Dr Strangelove.

nickdrake:

Rare images of the Dr Strangelove custard pie fight

A special glimpse at the famous custard pie fight finale that was shot but cut out of Stanley Kubrick’s cold war masterpiece Dr Strangelove.

Faces (John Cassavetes, 1968)
Faces (John Cassavetes, 1968)
Faces (John Cassavetes, 1968)
Faces (John Cassavetes, 1968)
Faces (John Cassavetes, 1968)

Faces (John Cassavetes, 1968)