Mike Flores, a photographer and filmmaker from North County, San Diego, sets his state-of-the-art HD camera on a dolly that scoots it along at a snail’s pace, shooting time lapse imagery. The resulting footage –particularly that of natural desert landscapes and skies– is stunningly beautiful.
Soundtrack supplied by Hans Zimmer’s bombastic (and highly effective) Inception score. Visit Flores’ Vimeo account for more videos. Be sure to watch them all full screen.
The ambitious, online highly atmospheric video for “Devil of Mine” from The Moulettes self titled album resembles nothing less than a Baroque fairy tale “creepshow” and/or meandering hallucinatory dream told through a “pioneering technique utilizing live action, stuff stop motion, and motion GFX”.
A twisty track that is at turns sinister, playful and cleverly, unexpectedly catchy – at 2:06, for example: the juxtaposition of Hannah Miller in a puritanically prim ruffled night dress and cap surrounded a ghoulishly jazzy, finger snapping beat crowd – this is a delightfully decadent, debauched, yet danceable “cacophony of sound”. A real toe (bone) tapper!
Bonus! Here is some sneaky backstage footage of the video.
Malcolm Sutherland’s strange sci-fi short Umbra: the tale of a space man who finds himself on a strange, yet seemingly familiar, planet. Sutherland uses his chosen medium to great effect, achieving a complex range of emotions using rather simplistic characters. Combined with a sparse, haunting soundtrack by Alison Melville and Ben Grossman, it makes for a great five minutes.
Herzog’s rescue of the troublesome actor took place within days, maybe weeks of a freakish incident that occurred on Herzog’s balcony during the middle of an interview with film journalist Mark Kermode: “A sniper opened fire with an air rifle … Herzog, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, said, ‘Oh, someone is shooting at us. We must go.’ He had a bruise the size of a snooker ball, with a hole in. He just carried on with the interview while bleeding quietly in his boxer shorts.”
Responding to Kermode’s incredulity, Herzog stated, smiling, “It was not a significant bullet. I am not afraid.”
Sascha, if you’re reading, please consider making an animation of that.
An animated short of MAXIMUM MEMEWORTHY ADORABLENESS, directed by Dean Fleischer-Camp. (“I am a director and an editor. And I literally got a college degree in making movies! You believe that? A COLLEGE DEGREE. College for movies? Hah! Can you beat it? I don’t think so– movies are the best!”) He is made of awesome. Go check out his website RITE NAO.
Marcel the Shell is voiced (“untreated and unenhanced”) by Jenny Slate– yes, the very same Jenny who dropped an F-Bomb during the live taping of her SNL debut. Prepare to squee your pants.
Bird Box presents one family’s day at the playground in a way that almost resembles a Rube Goldberg invention. At less than a minute long this short more than makes up for its brevity with a spectacular sense of timing.
All hail the caterwauling Carmen Orange. Venerated demigod of public broadcasting, mesmeric and disturbing in equal measure, she haunts the collective memory of multiple generations of Sesame Street-watching children. According to a couple of unconfirmed reports online, she was animated by Jim Henson himself.
In memory of Satoshi Kon, The FAM presents Katsuhiro Otomo’s Memories (1995), specifically the first episode of three entitled Metallic Rose, directed by Koji Morimoto and written by the late Mr. Kon. Metallic Rose tells the story of a space-faring salvage team who respond to a distress signal (in the form of a recording of Puccinni’s opera Madame Butterfly) emanating from a giant space station in a particularly dangerous area of the galaxy known as Area RZ-3005 or Sargasso. The ship’s two engineers, Heintz and Miguel, are deployed to investigate. Inside they find an opulent, rococo interior and a woman claiming to be an opera singer named Eva Friedal.
The true nature of Eva is something I won’t spoil, but it is safe to say that she is not exactly who she appears to be. Magnetic Rose then, in sci-fi shorthand, is a mash-up of the used, dingy, space-trucker aesthetics of Alien and the psychological mindfuckery of Solaris; and it succeeds admirably. And while it was based on a story by Otomo, it contains many of the themes that would define Kon’s work: the interest in the protagonist’s mental state and subjective reality. Two years later he would go on to write and direct his first feature film, Perfect Blue, and a brilliant career; but the seeds were sown here in the span of 40 minutes. If only that career could have lasted a little longer.
Very sad news out of Japan yesterday as it was confirmed that visionary director Satoshi Kon had indeed passed away, after a long battle with pancreatic cancer. He was 46.
Kon began his career as a manga artist, working with Akira creator Katsuhiro Otomo. He wrote a section of Otomo’s anthology film Memories entitled “Magnetic Rose” and in 1997 he made his directorial debut with Perfect Blue. This was followed by Millennium Actress in 2001, Tokyo Godfathers in 2003, the television show Paranoia Agent in 2004 (featured previously on Coilhouse), and finally Paprika in 2006. At the time of his death he was working on the film The Dream Machine which may be released posthumously.
Close on the heels of the announcement that filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki may be preparing a sequel to his 1992 animated film Porco Rosso, Roger Ebert posts some well-deserved, effusive praise of Miyazaki and his first masterpiece, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind:
Much of anime in the past 20 years has concentrated on a utopian future, filled with technological wizardry and innovation, which is abundant in Japanese culture. But Miyazaki tends to look back instead of looking forward, inward instead of outward, looking at treasures of futures past that might have been. Like most of his films, his timeline here isn’t technological, but pastoral, with people relying more on each other and the Earth. He favors gorgeous green panoramas usually near blue bodies of water. He is in love with flight with his heroes soaring through the sky, representing our dreams of breaking through our limitations. We sense his hope in women more than men, believing them to be the key to humanity’s progress as opposed to man’s history of violence. These creeds and themes are held dearly and instinctively by the young and hopeful, and its Miyazaki’s ability to convey these naturalistic ideas through his visual imagination, which makes him unique.
Only Pixar has been able to rival Miyazaki’s creative energies in forming entirely new sights, sounds, and stories with each subsequent film. But Pixar is a collection of talent (all of whom pretty much worship him), while Miyazaki is a singular force. While even the greatest of directors have to rely on cast and crew to carry out their visions, Miyazaki pretty much IS the film. He might be the closest thing to the idea of an “auteur” which filmdom has.
Ebert has pointed his readership in the direction of Google Video to watch Nausicaa for free –and apparently guilt free– online. Hooray!
