Volume 16 Issue 9
Whenever Lars von Trier debuts a major film, he does it at Cannes. He explains his new work thusly: “I’ve entered my anal phase. Antichrist is just poop smeared all over everything.”
Until the mid-1970s, British horror films tended to be camp, period rehashes of American horror classics in which hammy, top hat-wearing toffs would end up being killed by the big guys from the gore of yore.
Roy Andersson refused to follow up his commercially successful debut A Swedish Love Story and was, ironically enough, punished with a 25 year sentence of directing commercials.
Name another Brit filmmaker who cut pictures with Orson Welles, Marlon Brando, Burt Lancaster, Robert Duvall, Robert Mitchum and Sophia Loren. Struggling?
Television movies are rubbish, right? Well, if you were watching TV in Britain in the 1960s, the opposite would be the case.
Len Lye’s fascination with movement and experiments with film and celluloid were like nothing that had ever been seen before the 1900s and it’s a little known fact that he produced the first ever music video.
Jack Bond rolled with Warhol and Magritte in New York and drove Salvador Dali into a rage. These days, he’s making a film that the French intelligence services have warned him may cost him his life.
When Ingmar Bergman was 20 years old, he faced a fairly ordinary existential predicament: What’s a guy to do with a head full of thoughts he can neither comprehend nor control?
The life and career of Les Blank each deserve to have a book or three dedicated to them, not just a puny interview in one issue of one magazine.