L’Avventura, original Janus Films release poster
Pierre Etaix & Jacques Tati
For his third full-length film, Tati joins together around him the same crew of “Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot” or “Jour de fête”. Pierre Etaix joins the crew (age 27)
During all the preparation and the shooting of “Mon Oncle”, Pierre Etaix will make thousands of drawings for Tati. For 4½ years, he was involved in every stage of the filmmaking process. He drew for Tati and designed posters; he worked on decor and props. He was his assistant on the shoot, during the editing, and when the sound and the music were being worked on. The importance of sound, he says, was something he learnt from Tati. And it was a unique apprenticeship, he declares. ”No film school in the world could have taught me in this way.”
I went into a bad time on Flickr.
Firmly re-established itself as one of my all time favorite films. But I’m more at home with myself in 2014 than I was (Jesus Christ time flies) seven years ago when I first saw it, twice in two days, and cried my eyes out during the end credits. Tonight, I simply smiled the biggest smile ever. But one thing remains: it is as great an example of the dual nature of joy, both pain and pleasure, as Nietzsche defines it, as any film ever. Plus, it understands the (digital) image better than anything this side of the Atlantic from JLG.
Found the novel/novella I wrote when I dropped out of Berkeley and moved to New York. I thought I’d lost it. But here it is, complete with notes from my old friend Strenski, and a ton of my own margin scribbles. It’s about 100 pages. I’m going to re-type it, without edits, for digital posterity. To re-write would be foolish, and wrong. It’s embarrassing to read, sure, but at least I did it, once upon a time, and I’m going to guess the writing I do now is stronger for this effort. I’d like to think I’ve reigned in the wish fulfillment, and am closer to interpreting myself in more productive, everyday ways. Til the next one…
"May seemed to enjoy the minutiae of editing (in its way, a visual analogue to improvisation), although at times her habits became erratic. Some nights she would return to the editing bays after the editors had gone home, with Cassavetes in tow, and systematically undo everything the editors had done that day, then disappear for forty-eight hours. Cassavetes, Falk, and the writer Peter Feibleman were among the chosen few allowed to visit. At some point during postproduction, Jeannie Berlin also moved into the Sunset Marquis. May herself rarely ventured out, save to troll from her suite to the cutting room, her figure wraith-like, her face occasionally painted with intense mask like makeup. She had forbidden the maids from entering her private bedroom for ten months, and when she left the remaining production staff found rotting banana peels and apple cores strewn in her bed, the charred remains of TV dinners in the oven, the blackout curtains across all the windows. She’d written notes to herself in lipstick across all the mirrors. May seemed to lived primarily on pills and health food. At one point she even commanded an underling to bring her only pink food. "If you put any salt in the food," May told one waitress, "I will die right here."
From Rachel Abramowitz’ Is That a Gun in Your Pocket?
The kind of thing you’d rather not know, but enjoy knowing nonetheless, because, let’s face it, mania persists in creation.
Old man lazy boy
Alfred Hitchcock as seen and drawn by Pierre Etaix