To My Knowledge, I Have Only Seen Between Two And Five Films Released In 2011

Added on by Andrew Marzoni.

Yesterday, I decided to make a list of my ten favorite films of 2011. I thought about it for a while, and then realized that I couldn’t. These are the only films released in 2011 which I have seen (in no particular order):
  1. Midnight in Paris, dir. Woody Allen
  2. Weekend, dir. Andrew Haigh
  3. The Trip, dir. Michael Winterbottom
  4. Meek’s Cutoff, dir. Kelly Reichardt
  5. Cave of Forgotten Dreams, dir. Werner Herzog

Even worse: technically, The Trip, Meek’s Cutoff, and Cave of Forgotten Dreams came out in 2010, as they premiered at film festivals that fall and winter (they all had a limited run in the US in spring/summer 2011).

While I am not entirely embarrassed about this (I have certainly watched a large number of films in the past year, just not many new releases), I remember when I worked at a movie theater in college and would see an average of three to four films a week in a theater (even more during breaks from school), and this makes me sort of sad. On the other hand, I tend to think that the good ones will float to the top after a year or two: I may have lost the theatrical experience (which, don’t get me wrong, I adore), but the film itself won’t be lost. Or so I try to tell myself, a supposed film scholar behind on the most recent trends. 

With that said, here are a few films released in 2011 which I am sorry that I missed, but which I look forward to seeing in the future (again, in no particular order):

  1. Melancholia, dir. Lars von Trier
  2. The Skin I Live In, dir. Pedro Almodóvar
  3. Drive, dir. Nicolas Winding Refn
  4. A Dangerous Method, dir. David Cronenberg
  5. The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975, dir. Göran Olsson
  6. The Tree of Life, dir. Terrence Malick
  7. The Artist, dir. Michel Hazanavicius
  8. The Future, dir. Miranda July
  9. Pina, dir. Wim Wenders
  10. Contagion, dir. Steven Soderbergh

If there are others that I should not overlook, do let me know.

A Response To My Previous Post

Added on by Andrew Marzoni.

My friend Chris Maroulakos notes: 

This is the cover of the remastered Abbey Road: http://www.albumartexchange.com/gallery/images/public/be/beatle-abbeyr_24.jpg. As you can see, it’s the same picture (bare feet and all) as on the classic album. The picture you have on your iPhone must be an outtake, not the actual cover.

Chris is indeed correct: the photograph I earlier identified as the cover of the 2009 Abbey Road stereo remaster is an outtake (a fact I discovered here, where I will forever go to solve all future Beatles-related mysteries), and I’m not sure how it ended up as the album of art for my digital copy of the record. Which, of course, just gives me another question to answer.

In the course of doing some research (which I suppose I could have done before writing the previous post), I stumbled upon two things:

  1. This amazing website which claims in its masthead that “Paul McCartney was killed and replaced in 1966,” and which refers to the replicant McCartney as “Faul.”
  2. This very weirdly-edited interview with David Letterman in which Paul (or Faul, Plastic Macca suggests) explains the whole story.

While I am grateful to Chris and Google to putting some of my questions to rest, I am left unsatisfied. The question of why I care so much about all of this has yet to be answered. Further self-analysis required.

Added on by Andrew Marzoni.

Shortly after the beginning of 2012, I discovered that I am either an obsessive Beatles fan, or I am not an obsessive Beatles fan.

Let me explain. I went to a party on New Year’s Eve which was hosted by a friend of mine. Because it had been decided in advance that guests were to dress “appropriately” at this party, my friend (the host) was wearing a seersucker suit with a shirt and tie, but no shoes or socks. This, I thought, was an excellent choice. For a variety of reasons.

First of all, what better way to say, “Welcome to my house, motherfuckers!” than to combine formal dress and bare feet? It’s like, “Sure, look sharp—just don’t forget to take off your shoes!” Were I comfortable with not wearing shoes and socks for extended periods of time (which I am not) and in the habit of inviting numerous people into my home at the same time (which I am not), I would definitely adopt this technique in order to express genuine hospitality while simultaneously exercising soft power.

Second reason: my friend used to play drums in a metal band, a fact I was reminded of while engaged in a conversation—still at the party—about the various merits of seersucker, as a fabric. It was agreed upon that the seersucker suit sans footwear would be the appropriate costume for members of a heavy metal band made up of Southern Gentlemen. “But what ought such a formation to be called?” wondered my audience, to which I answered (not missing a beat), “As I Lay Daying,” implicitly acknowledging William Faulkner's noted admiration of seersucker. I have since learned that there is in existence, in fact, a heavy metal band (from San Diego, my hometown, of all places) with this name. Unfortunately, they do not appear to be in the habit of wearing seersucker suits while barefoot.

Finally and by far most significantly, at some point in the evening, I remarked that my friend resembled Paul McCartney in 1969, referencing (of course) the hugely famous cover of the Beatles’ hugely famous album, Abbey Road (first row, left).* Semi-drunkenly, I retrieved my iPhone from my pocket for photographic evidence of the stated comparison. Little did I know, pulling up Abbey Road in the music library, that my mind would be fucking blown.

You see, believing Phil Spector to be slightly more insane than he is genius/messianic,** I have the 2009 stereo remasters of the Beatles’ catalogue on my iPhone, and until New Year’s Eve, I had never noticed that with the remastered record comes a “remastered” album cover (first row, right). A number of minor elements of the two photographs are different: the automobile in the background, the position of the frame and the color of the sky (these may simply be due to the digital-ness of the photos), and the directions John and Paul are facing, especially. There is one enormous difference, however, which you can see me discovering—and pointing out to my friend—in the above photo (second row): Paul is not barefoot. He is wearing sandals. Flip-flops. Mandals. Fucking mandals.

Upon recognizing this phenomenon, I initially let the astonishment subside, not allowing it to ruin my evening, driving me into existential confusion. Yet, in the days since, I have not been able to stop thinking about this, or adequately answer the torrent of questions this discovery has unleashed in my mind. Photoshop? Was the photographer (or Paul) undecided as to whether sandals or bare feet would produce a better “look” for the photograph? Were the bare feet an improvisation? Why change the photograph? Is this some sort of subliminal dissuasion from going barefoot in public? Or is this merely a cheeky joke (see “remaster” above) intended for the most diehard of Beatles fans, overlooked by the more casual listener/viewer? Which of these am I? Does any of this really matter?

The answer to these questions—of course, and as always—is that I’m not really sure. I will continue thinking about this until either (a) I come up with answers, in which case I will post them here, or (b) I dismiss all of this as nonsense and promptly forget about it.

*See also Jack Whitman (Jason Schwartzman) in Wes Anderson’s The Darjeeling Limited (2007): obvious homage to Sir McCartney.

**I know, of course, that Phil Spector did not produce Abbey Road. This is clearly a “Back to Mono” reference—i.e., I am not a fucking idiot.

Fredric Jameson, "Realism and Utopia in The Wire" →

Added on by Andrew Marzoni.

I’m not always in agreement with Fred, but I really enjoyed this essay. At the very least, it helped me to further understand Frank Sobotka, who I’ve always seen as a sort of postmodern Willy Loman. I’m not sure where Jameson is going with the “post-racial” bit (that, in fact, makes me a little nervous), but aside from that, there are quite a few interesting ideas here.

Thanks to Robb to turning me on to this.