Today we hear from longtime Williamsburg resident and Les Savy Fav frontman Tim Harrington. Before you read any further, be sure to pick up your copy of the band's excellent new album,Root For Ruin.
“The samurai’s way no longer exists,” a character mourns in 1964’s Assassination. He’s premature—the samurai’s way will actually take a long, painful road towards death over the course of this film. A head flies off in slow motion, mouth frozen in a smile; a woman about to be raped freezes, first her shrieks and then her assailant’s chuckles filling the soundtrack. The joyful moments are more ephemeral. A group of rogue samurai celebrates an opponent’s murder, and then, both literally and figuratively, the film wipes their party away.
You might wonder, reading this, why you should sit through Assassination. It’s because the film is simply one of the most exhilarating that you will ever see.
The L: I understand that most of you came out of fine arts programs in Chicago. What attracted you to Brooklyn, as opposed to another city or staying in Chicago?
Regina Rex: Many of us attended graduate school in Chicago, but we also came out of fine art programs in Los Angeles, San Francisco, St. Louis and Brooklyn. There are probably thirteen different answers to why we all arrived in Brooklyn, but most of our reasons are probably along the same lines that any other artist moves to New York—there’s a community of people that you know that has moved here before you and maybe they’ve told you about an apartment for rent, studio space or job that made it seem manageable.
She didn't begin keeping the diaries until 1956, when she moved to Rochester to be near the Eastman House at the invitation of its director, so we shouldn't get our hopes up for too much sex. However, she appears to have used the journal, at least in part, as a screening log. Per Variety, here's some initial published excerpts concerning two of Hollywood's other most reclusive, iconic beauties:
Paul Schrader directed Blue Collar from a script he and his brother, Leonard, based on a story he “ripped off from a black screenwriter named Sydney A. Glass, who foolishly came to Schrader with his idea,” according to Peter Biskind’s Gods and Monsters. (“According to Cineaste Magazine, Schrader subsequently paid Glass off with $15,000, a screen credit, and 1 percent of the film,” Biskind adds.) The screenplay hammers home its points as hard as one of the machines in the Checker cab plant where the story is set, but the potentially deadening didacticism is brought to life by the raw realism of the lead performances (Richard Pryor in by far his best movie role as Zeke, Yaphet Kotto as Smokey, and Harvey Keitel as Jerry, the best friends at the heart of the story). The sets are just as resonant, from the actual factories where a lot of the footage was shot to the dive bar where the men drink after work to the plastic that covers the couches in Zeke’s living room.
You are an idiot. No one has the right to make false rape claims and…
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