Olympia 52: Like even most Chris Marker die-hards, I haven't had the opportunity properly to see this documentary about the 1952 Olympics, his first film. But just two weeks ago, a terribly transferred (but more or less audible) copy appeared in Youtube:
More edifying is @JulienFaraut's documentary about the documentary, A New Look at Olympia 52. Based in part on correspondence with the man himself, it gets into Marker's reasons for never re-releasing the film, and the challenges he faced in production.
A "Cold War Olympics" proved a suitable subject for the young Marker to exercise his already-present impatience with ideology, at least implicitly, as well as his penchant for turning limitations to his advantage by making unconventional choices about what material to include.
Without a permit to shoot on the field, for instance, he had to do so from the stands. But this let him capture the spectator's perspective, then encouraged him to turn the spectators into the main attraction. (It also prompted him to learn the Finnish imperative for "sit down.")
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It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown: To the best of my recollection, I only watched this once or twice in childhood in America. Yet in adulthood in Korea, it's become a required element of my Halloween viewing, and each time I watch it I grow more aware of its artistic merits.
Broadcast in 1966, it was the third animated Peanuts special — the first being A Charlie Brown Christmas, which immediately became an institution unto itself. On first viewing, the Great Pumpkin seems comparatively incoherent, less a story than a collection of standard vignettes.
"In the office in which I work there are five people of whom I am afraid. Each of these five people is afraid of four people (excluding overlaps), for a total of twenty, and each of these twenty people is afraid of six people...
making a total of one hundred and twenty people who are feared by at least one person. Each of these one hundred and twenty people is afraid of the other one hundred and nineteen...
and all of these one hundred and forty-five people are afraid of the twelve men at the top who helped found and build the company and now own and direct it." — Joseph Heller, Something Happened
"What one is invited to consider here is the notion of artists whose work mattered supremely at the moment and in the place it was first performed, and depended largely on the physical presence of the artists themselves." nybooks.com/articles/2020/…
"In 2020, we are not only atomized, but we know we are atomized. We are aware that romance, especially, has become a hideous, empty shell." americanmind.org/essays/worse-t…
“You can't have Bach, Mozart and Beethoven as your favorite composers," Michael Tilson Thomas once said. "They simply define what music is." On another plane, the same is true of the Beatle, whose super-canonical status means I've never felt the need to actively like them.
Saying you "like" or "don't like" the Beatles has only as much force as saying you "like" or "don't like' the Bible: the sheer depth and breadth of cultural influence involved obviates all personal judgment. Even avowedly non-believing modern Westerners have a Biblical worldview.