A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Showing posts with label Michael Pitt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Pitt. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Delirious (Tom DiCillo, 2006)

Steve Buscemi and Michael Pitt in Delirious
Cast: Steve Buscemi, Michael Pitt, Alison Lohman, Gina Gershon, Kevin Corrigan, Richard Short, Elvis Costello. Screenplay: Tom DiCillo. Cinematography: Frank G. DeMarco. Production design: Teresa Mastropierro. Film editing: Paul Zucker. Music: Anton Sanko. 

Celebrity is a broad target for satire, but writer-director Tom DiCillo finds the right weapon for hitting it: He makes his protagonist a paparazzo named Les Galantine, played by Steve Buscemi with his usual high-strung, terrier-like intensity and vulnerability. Trying one day to shove aside the other paparazzi and get the right picture of the latest pop music phenomenon, K'Harma (Alison Lohman), Les encounters a homeless kid named Toby (Michael Pitt), hanging around the fringes of the shoot. With his usual impulsive bark-is-worse-than-his-bite manner, Les at first abuses the kid, and then lets him crash in his apartment. Toby is sweet but a little dim: When Les explains that every paparazzo is in search of "the shot heard around the world," the photo that will make his reputation, Toby clearly doesn't know the origin of the phrase. Still, when he proves useful in capturing a shot of a celebrity who has just had surgery on his penis, Les empties a closet for Toby to use as a bedroom and makes him his unpaid assistant. But gradually the dynamic between the two shifts: K'Harma had noticed the good-looking Toby, who wants to be an actor, and so does a casting director (Gina Gershon) when he tags along with Les at a celebrity event. Before long, it's Toby whom the paparazzi are pursuing, much to Les's fury. DiCillo keeps the satire well within the confines of his story, and his actors never let it overwhelm the characterization of Les and Toby and K'Harma.   

Thursday, April 30, 2020

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (John Cameron Mitchell, 2001)

John Cameron Mitchell in Hedwig and the Angry Inch
Cast: John Cameron Mitchell, Miriam Shor, Michael Pitt, Andrea Martin, Maurice Dean Wint, Ben Mayer-Goodman, Alberta Watson, Stephen Trask, Theodore Liscinski, Rob Campbell, Michael Aronov, Gene Pyrz. Screenplay: John Cameron Mitchell, based on the musical by Mitchell and Stephen Trask. Cinematography: Frank G. DeMarco. Production design: Thérèse DePrez. Film editing: Andrew Marcus. Music: Stephen Trask.

If nothing else, Hedwig and the Angry Inch is a landmark in queer culture, a rock musical about a non-binary performer that moved from Off-Broadway to movies to a Broadway production with big-name stars like Neil Patrick Harris and Darren Criss. But is it anything else? Does it deserve to be celebrated as something other than a colorful anomaly in the usually gender-stable milieu of theater and film? Does it speak to anything enduring about humanity? I think it probably does, largely because it extended my sympathies to a portion of humanity of which I'm not a part, but that's fortunately not for me to decide. I enjoyed it, which may just be enough.