FilmMattic

Greatness Lies Ahead       Stellar terrain is within grasp. We're moving from A New Hope to Empire Strikes Back, from Magic to MJ, from greatness to extreme greatness. We have officially touched down in the "Mere Mortals Do Not Reside Here" district, so take a good look at your neighbors, all fifty of 'em, and feel free to engage your inner Mr. Curious.

Keep On Filin', The Whole World's Filin' At You        And so my reconstruction of the AFI 100 continues with numbers 75-51 ...  

The Filed Bunch        One of my cherished cinematic endeavors, besides firing up the 81' DeLorean and cruising back through time to the Roaring Twenties, was watching every film from the American Film Institute's 100 Years...100 Movies list (both the 1998 and 2007 editions) . Well, I am pleased to announce—and yes, Dubya, this next statement is irrefutable: Mission Accomplished!        That euphoric acknowledgement meant that  I had to allocate time for 123 separate viewings. I breath film, so it was rather undemanding.        Mission number two concerned my evaluation of the AFI's two lists. I ranked the films according to my own criteria, a more personalized touch if you will. By the logic of numbers, twenty-three films missed the cut.        The AFI 100 celebrated the first century of American cinema; the 10th Anniversary Edition (2007) extended into the early aughts (well, n...

Silent Film Edition: Part III       D.W. Griffith and F.W. Murnau, two names featured prominently in my blog, are titans of cinema's past. The purpose of highlighting their work; therefore, is to underline their importance, to inspire an interest however mild in their exceptional work. Any film buff could comfortably laud their accomplishments. Such a statement presupposes that every consumer of film is desirous of the "buff" distinction. The box office receipts for films like Jack and Jill and New Year's Eve  confirm my suspicions that a voracious awareness of film history, for the average moviegoer, is unnecessary. Well, I am not the average moviegoer. And I'm here to tell you, loyal readers who frequent my blog, neither are you. My commentary presumes your attentiveness for, yes, cinema's history. Presumptuous as it may be, this Silent Film segment, which will continue in perpetuity, is designed to fulfill your curiosities. W...

Silent Film Edition: Part II       In Part II of my Silent Film Marathon, I discuss two groundbreaking German films, their style reflective of the highly influential German Expressionist movement and their function emblematic of the horror/surreal/fantasy genres. Enjoy. And please feel free to impart some wisdom below. I'm eager to engage discussion. 

Pain Don't Hurt              In the unlikely chance you were pining for some kind of bizarre visual illustration which illuminates the reasons for my blog's existence, then I ask you to look no further than the mash-up below. After all, the first two sentences in my blog's bio were born from inspiration provided by this clip (and more specifically, the aroma of badass).        As I stated on Twitter , after watching this clip, "palms will sweat, fists will clench, and you'll hardly be able to fight the urge to check for marks." I can say, as with any great apocryphal story, the clip's effects, gleamed from my unofficial study, are likely to include nausea, euphoria, phantasmagoria, and any combination therein. Now, behold the latest Internet phenomenon and FIGHT THE POWER!  Thank you, Red Letter Media!

Spider-Man's Coming To Dinner. Why is He A-May-Zingly Grace-Less?       Languid would be the adjective that properly encapsulates my expectation level for The Amazing Spider-Man. It is a reaction I can exaggeratedly equate to a convulsion: Neither violent nor humorous but a reaction wrought with uncertainty. For a visual manifestation, recall the look of disbelief on Spencer Tracy's face in Guess Who's Coming to Dinner,  when he realized his beloved daughter, Joanna (played by Katharine Houghton) fell in love with a black man (Remember: Stanley Kramer's film took place during the 1960's when race relations were routinely characterized by tumult) named Dr. John Prentice, a "perfect" man played by the legendary Sidney Poitier. As the news registered with a startled Mr. Drayton (Spencer), his iconic stone-cold face began to intimate a blinding incredulity. And then he uttered this famous refrain: "What the hell's goin' on ...