From the The Wikipedia entry :

The film's combination of religious themes and imagery combined with violent and sexual content was a test for the British Board of Film Censors that at the time was being pressured by socially conservative interest groups.

In order to earn an "X" certificate, Russell made minor cuts to the more explicit nudity (mainly in the cathedral sequences) and removed some violent detail (notably the crushing of Grandier's legs). However, the biggest cuts were made by the studio itself, prior to submission to the BBFC, removing two scenes in their entirety, notably a two-and-a-half-minute sequence of crazed naked nuns sexually assaulting a statue of Christ and about of half of a latter scene with Sister Jeanne masturbating with the charred tibia of Grandier after self-administering an enema. However, even in it's released form, the film was considerably stronger in detail than most films released prior to that point.

Its fate in the United States was even more stringent, with a further set of cuts made to even more of the nudity with some key scenes (including Sister Jeanne's crazed visions, exorcism and the climactic burning) shorn of the more explicit detail.

All of this material was presumed lost or destroyed until critic Mark Kermode found the complete "Rape of Christ" sequence and several other deleted scenes in 2002. The artist Adam Chodzko made a video work in which traced and interviewed many of the actresses who had played the nuns during the orgy scene. Although some material may have been lost forever, the NFT was able to show The Devils in the fullest possible state in 2004. This uncut version premiered at the Brussels International Festival of Fantasy Film in March 2006.

The British version remains the most complete one in circulation, although there are long promised plans to release the uncut version on mass-market DVD. On April 25, 2007, The Devils was shown for a second time in its fullest possible state to a group of students and staff at the University of Southampton, followed by a question and answer session with the director, moderated by Mark Kermode. It was the first significant event to take place during Russell's tenure as a visiting fellow at the University of Southampton in the English and film departments, April 2007 to March 2008.

An NTSC-format DVD edition on the Angel Digital label appeared in 2005, with the so-called "Rape of Christ" scene and other censored footage restored, and featuring a documentary by Mark Kermode about the film, as well as interviews with Russell, some of the surviving cast members, and a member of the BBFC who participated in the original censorship of the film.

DVDActive.com announced on February 28, 2008 that The Devils would finally be released on DVD by Warner Home Video in the U.S. on May 20, 2008, in the uncut (111 min) version, but without additional material. However, a day later, a DVDActive forum post asserted that the release had been dropped from Warner's schedule.

Now I own the aforementioned 'Angel Digital' release of the film and honestly it's not too bad looking, it seems as if it's a direct transfer from PAL tapes, but I believe they were broadcast quality tapes so it's not as poor looking as a regular VHS transfer... Unfortunately as of yet, the Warner home video release still is MIA with no word on it ever returning, so if anyone is interested I'd recommend just biting the bullet and picking up the 'Angel Digital' copy. It even contains the aforementioned documentary about the making/banning of the film that originally aired on the BBC.

Find it, rent it, watch it…

Some clips for your viewing pleasure:

Sister Jeanne dreams of her Grandier/Christ coming down off the cross to get down:

That Catholic repression and the exorcist arrives:

The rape of Christ:

Grandier's trial

Bergan lists some directors, noting some as Oscar winners, some as simply significant.

The Americans.

Barry Levinson - nominated a bunch, last for Bugsy, won director for Rain Man. Levinson's pretty easy to figure out what happened--he went super-mainstream in the 1990s with Crichton adaptations and even Disclosure being successful at the time doesn't mean it's remembered as such. Wag the Dog--filmed during Sphere, I think--didn't win anything, even though it should have. Liberty Heights, which is excellent, bombed. I haven't seen a thing he did since Bandits, which suffered from an atrocious script. The rest of the 2000s seem to be one misstep after another, as he can't even get TV shows off the ground anymore. I'd held out hope for What Just Happened? but it sounds like more Jimmy Hollywood than it should.

Paul Mazursky - I know he got a lot of 1970s noms, but Willie & Phil is unwatchable malarky. He commercially peaked in the 1980s with Down and Out in Beverly Hills... and then Enemies and Moon Over Parador probably bombed and I know Scenes from a Mall certainly did. No big loss, regardless of what happened.

Peter Bogdanovich - When The Thing Called Love bombed--today's Warner would have re-released it to capitalize on River Phoenix's death, of course--Bogdanovich went straight to TV. But he'd been debasing himself for years (Illegally Yours and Texasville standing out). The world would be better served with him as a film historian, not a competent director on awful projects.

Arthur Penn - Who knows? One of the most significant directors of the 1970s becomes one of the most quizzical of the 1980s? I understand him doing Target with Gene Hackman (I guess), but the Penn & Teller Get Killed? No sir. Unless he thought it was like Alice's Restaurant for the 1990s... But given the lack of any ambitions--The Missouri Breaks being the last--projects, it seems like Penn gave up more than anyone giving up on him.

Robert Benton - Penn's Bonnie and Clyde screenwriter no less. I've always assumed he just got older and slowed down. His Ice Harvest script was solid enough work, though his lack of real directing projects (Twilight being the last one I'd consider acceptable) is unfortunate. But really? Benton was never particularly prolific.

Bob Rafelson - He barely worked in the 1980s, only popping in for Black Widow after 1981's Postman Always Rings Twice fiasco. The Dorff killed Blood and Wine and Man Trouble a few years earlier didn't help (Nicholson took a while to shed his Batman turn). One last reunion would be nice. 

Blake Edwards - Oh, come on. Blind Date, Sunset and Skin Deep--oh, and Switch? Edwards hasn't been interesting since 1971... though I do need to see 10 again.

John G Avildsen - Blame Ralph Macchio and Stallone. The one-two punch of Karate Kid III and Rocky V--two sequels that couldn't fail--failing. 8 Seconds was supposed to be Luke Perry's hit and wasn't. Avildsen's directed a Jean-Claude Van Damme DTV. I mean, if Avildsen was so bad with his money he needed to do it, I guess it's excusable. But I haven't read about him being destitute since--so he didn't do it for the money; he doesn't belong on any list of significant filmmakers.

Monte Hellman - Maybe Quentin Tarantino is sorry Hellman isn't working anymore, but it kind of looks--from his filmography--Hellman just made a bunch of crap. Some of it was pretentious, some of it might not have been. But it was still crap.

John Badham - Badham stumbled out of theaters in the 1990s--I even remember this--when Wesley Snipes and Johnny Depp didn't pay off, in Drop Zone and Nick of Time, respectively. Remember when Johnny Depp wanted to be a post-Speed Keanu Reeves? Nick of Time, right there. Strangely, I remember Badham's last theatrical release--Incognito--being good. But is he significant or good? He made some okay, enjoyable movies. Just nothing great. Well, maybe his episode of "The Shield" was great.

Michael Cimeno - My friend tells me The Deer Hunter is great. I told him we'd watch it together and see. To date, he's been too busy. I think he's scared. Cimeno sucks.

The British.

Richard Lester - his best friend died during a shoot and Lester quit. Simple as that. I guess Bergan doesn't get IMDb on his internet.

Ken Russell - Crimes of Passion made Russell a punch line over twenty years ago. Moving on.

Clive Donner - Huh? I mean, he did good work in the 1960s I suppose, but he directed the original Get Smart movie. And he's had a long career of high profile TV movies.

Peter Yates - He did a Tom Selleck movie. All Tom Selleck movies kill careers. Some of his later stuff has been good, it just wasn't popular.

Bill Forsyth - Being Human was a Robin Williams hit, ending Forsyth's Hollywood career. And I guess Gregory's Two Girls was just embarrassing. No idea why he can't get some UK money though.

Hugh Hudson - Bergan writes about film and has never heard of Revolution?

      Es evidente que a los inventores del cine, a los hermanos Lumière, les traía sin cuidado que su invento fuera o no fuera un arte. Tampoco le importaba nada en absoluto ni a Griffith, ni a Dreyer, ni a Keaton, ni a Hitchcock, ni a ninguno de los grandes directores de la etapa del mudo. Lo que querían era ganar dinero lo más dignamente posible. Pero una vez ganado el dinero, era inevitable proceder al ennoblecimiento de la mercancía. Exactamente el mismo proceso transformó los talleres artesanales del gótico en estudios para artistas filósofos a partir del Renacimiento.

      La mercancía cinematográfica, ennoblecida y con blasón de arte severa, decayó de inmediato, como decaen los díscolos retoños de la tercera generación especializados en dilapidar las grandes fortunas amasadas por abuelos corsarios y padres ennoblecidos. Así, de la extraordinaria belleza no artística de Murnau se descendió en menos de cincuenta años a la vulgaridad masiva actual (pasando por eslabones de la tercera generación decididamente hermafroditas como Eisenstein o Lang) la cual, en el sentir general, es sin embargo enteramente artística.

      No todo el mundo opina igual. Por ejemplo Jean-Luc Godard, el hombre que más ha hecho por el cine en la etapa de su destrucción, nunca consideró que el cine fuera un arte, sino más bien un "arte primitivo" o una "etapa infantil del arte", como máxima concesión al lenguaje del periodismo.

      "Con lo cual pretendo afirmar que el cine nunca ha sido un arte, y menos todavía una técnica [...] Ni una técnica, ni un arte. Un arte sin futuro, como de inmediato advirtieron los hermanos (Lumière) alegremente. Cien años después comprobamos cuánta razón llevaban. Y si la televisión ha realizado el sueño de Léon Gaumont, a saber, introducir los mayores espectáculos del mundo en los más míseros dormitorios, sólo lo ha conseguido reduciendo el gigantesco cielo de los pastores a la escala de Pulgarcito."

      Casi ningún auténtico director de cine ha considerado que su trabajo debiera archivarse junto a otros productos de las artes en general; hay algo perverso en la idea de un museo del cine, como si propusiéramos un museo de la tertulia. Cuando le decían a Huston o a Ford, a Renoir o a Rossellini, a Ray (Satyajit) o a Ray (Nicholas) que estaban produciendo "obras de arte", se morían de la risa. Sólo algunos farsantes como Fellini o Ken Russell han podido jamás creerse "artistas". Que la pintura pertenezca al arte es una pesada herencia, pero nada se puede contra ella. Querer introducir al cine en la familia de las artes, cuando tiene la fortuna de haberse librado de ellas, es una cursilería. Sobre todo si nos referimos al cine masivo, el cual Guy Debord dice que es

      "Una insensata imitación de la vida insensata, una ingeniosa representación que no dice nada, capaz de disimular hábilmente el aburrimiento durante una hora mediante la exposición de ese mismo aburrimiento; una imitación cobarde, un sucedáneo del presente y un falso testigo del futuro."

      Otro de los hombres que ha rodado maravillosas películas en la época de la destrucción del cine, François Truffaut, explica con precisión lo que es el cine en su primera carta a Hitchcock, la del 2 de junio de 1962:

      "Estimado señor Hitchcock: comenzaré recordándole quién soy yo. Hace unos años trabajaba como periodista cinematográfico y acudí con mi amigo Claude Chabrol a entrevistarle a usted a finales de 1954, en el estudio Saint-Maurice, donde usted terminaba de sincronizar To Catch A Thief. Nos rogó que le esperáramos en el bar del estudio, y entonces, transidos de emoción tras haber visto quince veces seguidas un boucle en el que se ve a Brigitte Auber y Cary Grant en una canoa, nos caímos, Chabrol y yo, en la gélida piscina del estudio. Muy amablemente usted aceptó retrasar la entrevista, de modo que pudimos mantenerla en su hotel aquella misma noche."

      Eso es el cine: poder ver quince veces seguidas un fragmento fílmico de apenas treinta segundos con la misma emoción con la que el aficionado contempla decenas de veces un Beckmann o escucha medio centenar de versiones del Sacre, o lee por cuarta vez Demonios. Si luego uno puede caerse en una piscina, tanto mejor. Ahora bien, ¿por qué suelen asociarse estas obsesiones con la palabra "arte"? ¿No es también la misma obsesión del explorador que quiere encontrarle al Nilo una fuente, o la del deportista que repite terca y agotadoramente un revés o un saque con el único fin de jugar al tenis lo mejor posible? Pero no suele hablarse del arte de la exploración, aunque cada vez se habla más del arte del tenis.

      Desde el punto de vista psicológico, la pasión hace de todas las prácticas humanas un arte. Y el ánimo de perfeccionamiento es el más antiguo y digno de los sentidos que podemos atribuir a la palabra arte: el arte del carterista consiste en robar carteras con mucho arte. De ahí que Bresson eligiera a un carterista para encarnar a Raskólnikov, en aquella suprema versión de Crimen y Castigo que se llamaba, en francés, Pickpockett. Pero de eso a ampliar el catálogo de las artes cuando el catálogo se está vaciando, e introducir el cine para sustituir la danza o cualquier otra práctica artística agonizante, para que de ese modo subsista un número de artes constante, va un abismo.

      Muy al contrario: mantengamos fuera de las artes a las prácticas modernas de la fotografía, las historietas, el cine, el vídeo, etc., de tal manera que si algún día acaba por admitirse que ya no hay ni arquitectura, ni escultura, ni pintura, ni música, ni poesía, podamos gritar a los cuatro vientos que nos hemos librado de la fortaleza de las artes construida por los filósofos alemanes. Y añadamos que cualquier cosa bien hecha, sea la pura acción de peinarse o la producción de una ciudad satélite, da mucho gusto y es cosa de artistas. Hacerlas y verlas.

-Félix de Azúa: Diccionario De Las Artes-

Na primeira, filmes de diretores como Jim Jarmusch (o ultracult "Down By Law", foto acima), Emir Kusturica, David Lynch, Wong Kar-wai e Werner Herzog. Na segunda, obras de Akira Kurosawa, Kenji Mizoguchi e Otto Preminger.

A Lume também busca os direitos de filmes importantes do cinema marginal, como "A Margem", de Ozualdo Candeias. Mas ainda é tudo negociação. A seguir, o cronograma de lançamento da nova distribuidora até o final deste ano.

Junho
"Felicidade" (Todd Solondz, 1998)
"Reconstrução de um Amor" (Christoffer Boe, 2003)

Julho
"Felizes Juntos" (Wong Kar-wai, 1997)
"Na Companhia de Homens" (Neil LaBute, 1997)

Setembro
"Exótica" (Atom Egoyan, 1994)
"Luna Papa" (Bakhtyar Khudojnazarov, 1999)
"Filhos de Hiroshima" (Kaneto Shindô, 1952, Lume Clássicos)
"Madre Joana dos Anjos" (Jerzy Kawalerowicz, 1961, Lume Clássicos)

Outubro
"Down by Law" (Jim Jarmusch, 1986)
"Gothic" (Ken Russell, 1986)

Novembro
"Underground" (Emir Kusturica, 1995)
"O Sucesso a Qualquer Preço" (James Foley, 1992)
"Mãe e Filha" (Yazujiro Ozu, 1949, Lume Clássicos)
"O Cardeal" (Otto Preminger, 1963, Lume Clássicos)

Dezembro
"Eraserhead" (David Lynch, 1977)
"Stroszek" (Werner Herzog, 1977)

Para o ano que vem, ficam grandes filmes como "Contos da Lua Vaga", de Mizoguchi, e "O Fundo do Coração", de Francis Ford Coppola.

Fonte: "Folha Online", 22/06/2007

A produtora Lume Filmes, responsável pela realização do Festival Internacional de Cinema do Maranhão, acaba de garantir os direitos de distribuição de filmes nunca antes vistos no mercado de DVD’s. O selo acaba de lançar os filmes “Felicidade” (foto) de Todd Solondz (1998) e “Reconstrução de um Amor”, de Christoffer Boe (2003), com mil cópias cada para vendas e locações.

Frederico Machado, proprietário da Lume Filmes diz que o seu foco “são filmes contemporâneos com aura cult, que não têm muito espaço no circuito comercial, vencedores de prêmios em festivais, além de clássicos”. Os cinéfilos já podem comemorar em dobro, afinal a distribuição se dará em duas frentes. A Coleção Lume trará produções contemporâneas enquanto a Coleção Lume Clássicos deve se concentrar em resgatar títulos mais antigos. A distribuidora já tem fitas de nomes como Wong Kar-wai, Jim Jarmusch, David Lynch e Werner Herzog.

Machado deve viajar por Festivais ao redor do mundo para trazer mais fitas para seu acervo, inclusive programando exibições cinematográficas de películas ainda inéditas no Brasil. Já tem lançamento garantido até o final do ano os filmes “Felizes Juntos” (Wong Kar-wai, 1997), “Na Companhia de Homens” (Neil LaBute, 1997), “Exótica” (Atom Egoyan, 1994), “Luna Papa” (Bakhtyar Khudojnazarov,1999), “Filhos de Hiroshima” (Kaneto Shindô, 1952), “Madre Joana dos Anjos” (Jerzy Kawalerowicz, 1961), “Down by Law” (Jim Jarmusch, 1986), “Gothic” (Ken Russell, 1986), “Underground” (Emir Kusturica, 1995), “O Sucesso a Qualquer Preço” (James Foley, 1992), “Mãe e Filha” (Yazujiro Ozu, 1949), “O Cardeal” (Otto Preminger, 1963), “Eraserhead” (David Lynch, 1977) e “Stroszek” (Werner Herzog, 1977).

Fonte: "Cinema com Rapadura", 26/06/2007

Dando uma olhada no site da Lume Filmes, parece que não lançaram tudo o que disseram que iriam lançar. O que é uma pena, pois eu não acho em lugar algum(nem na net) o filme Gothic(1986) de Ken Russell que, para quem não sabe, é o mesmo diretor do filme Tommy(1975), o qual foi baseado na "Ópera Rock" lançada pelo The Who em 1969...É um filme que já quero ver faz um tempo[o Gothic, pois o Tommy eu já assisti uns anos atrás]...

Vejamos a sinopse:

Em 1816, o poeta Percy Shelley visita seu amigo Lord Byron, também poeta, que vive auto-exilado na Suiça. Shelley leva consigo sua mulher Mary Godwin e a cunhada Claire. Byron incita os visitantes cultos a experimentarem a imaginação, estimulados por histórias de horror, a prática do amor livre e cultos que desafiam as amarras religiosas e os maiores temores de cada um.

COMENTÁRIO
Uma autêntico delírio audiovisual com a grife de Ken Russell inspirado num encontro real do casal Shelley com Byron. Sabe-se que esta "noitada no abismo" pagã deu origem a dois clássicos absolutos da literatura romântica e de horror: FRANKENSTEIN e o conto O VAMPIRO, que viria a inspirar Brian Stoker na criação de DRÁCULA.
A imagem símbolo do filme faz referência ao quadro "Gothic Nighmare" de Henri Fuselli, que serve de adereço à mansão de Byron no filme. O jornal "Variety" definiu Gothic como "um Pesadelo em Elm Street para intelectuais".

(Gothic Nightmare, Fuselli)

OPINIÕES

"Russell is in his element, revelling in the seething psycholdramas, the fetid atmosphere of sexual abandon, the gloops and decaying flesh."- Time Out Video Guide.

"A surreal, melancholy, and eccentric study of four tortured souls locked together for one very long evening."- Mondo Digital

"There's a good idea somewhere at the heart of Gothic, one that deals with the conjuration of the group's individual fears - Mary's grief over her lost child, Shelley's defiance of religion, Polidori's frustrated homosexual desire for Byron - and how each of these becomes a monster that influenced the great names that were present at the Villa Deodati. You could see the same idea making for a good play someday. But any serious airing it is going to get is hijacked from the start by Russell in lunatically OTT mode. Right from the first scene Russell lets go at it with dogs chasing maids around the garden and encroaching thunderstorms. He then goes on to pile on an amazing array of demonic imps, silver servers full of eels, nipples with eyes, ghosts in suits of armour with giant iron codpieces, menstrual blood-drinking scenes, and Miriam Cyr covered only in cobwebs eating rats. Synthesizer whiz kid Thomas Dolby's score shrieks and thumps in the rafters like a hyperactive thunderstorm. And most of the cast go like the clappers as though in a competition to exceed the other for the most eye-rolling performance. But it's a storm in a teacup that gets amazingly frenzied about not much at all."-The SF, Horror and Fantasy Film Review

(capa do filme - compare com o quadro de Fuselli)

Gothic
Inglaterra, 1986
Duração - 87 minutos
Diretor - Ken Russell
Roteiro - Stephen Volk
Produtor - Penny Corke
Fotografia - Mike Southon
Música - Thomas Dolby
Elenco
Natasha Richardson (Mary Godwin Shelley), Gabriel Byrne (Lord Byron), Julian Sands (Percy Shelley), Miriam Cyr (Claire Godwin), Timothy Spall (Dr John Polidori)

As informações sobre o filme foram retiradas daqui. Esse filme não tem lançamento Brasileiro. Os filmes que a gente encontra aqui, passando em cinemas alternativos ou coisa do gênero, geralmente são edições espanholas e tal(com legendas em espanhol). Uma merda. Aliás, o Brasil é um dos piores países do mundo para quem aprecia arte. Aqui não se encontra nada. Nos EUA você encontra a porra toda...tudo o que você quer. Aqui, quando aparece coisa boa, é geralmente por iniciativa independente...muitas dessas iniciativas são isoladas, de pessoas pequenas até. Eu mesmo já traduzi legendas de filmes que não tiveram uma edição brasileira. O Brasil geralmente só edita o que está no "mainstrein" e isso é realmente ruim. Precisamos de mais iniciativas como a da Lume e até mais poderosas. Não dá para apreciar arte nessa merda de país. Ainda farei uma lista dos filmes que não pude assistir por não encontrar em lugar algum. E isso também acontece com música e livros. Se eu fosse depender das gravadoras brasileiras para encontrar cds das bandas que gosto, estava fodido. E já deixei de ler dezenas de livros por não confiar suficientemente no meu inglês, porque as editoras Brasileiras traduzem só os livros estrangeiros muito famosos e nós não temos muitas iniciativas independentes aqui. Se não fosse a internet, eu e muitos outros estávamos fodidos. A internet foi a maior benção na minha vida...realmente é o meio informacional mais facilmente acessível, democrático e livre.

Também me resta ver Remando al Viento e Byron, sendo o primeiro uma trama fictício envolvendo Byron, Shelley e outros(o filme foi traduzido grotescamente como "A Verdadeira História de Frankenstein") e o segundo uma biografia do Lord e poeta romântico inglês. Mas esses dois últimos filmes são mais acessíveis que aquele outro, então não estou muito preocupado.

Pode parecer estranho que meu primeiro post sobre cinema neste blog tenha sido justamente sobre filmes que eu ainda não vi. Mas é que estava lendo relendo citações de Byron hoje.

De Toth, among many other things, was second unit director on LAWRENCE OF ARABIA (and Nicholas Roeg was his cameraman), during the later part of his career when he also produced BILLION DOLLAR BRAIN for Ken Russell and generally did things other than directing his own films. On LAWRENCE, most of his ideas were rejected ("Revolting!" Lean would say) but he was still very useful to the production.

When Sam Spiegel decided that Lean was never going to finish the film in Arabia and arranged to have the unit shifted to Almeria, Spain, it was decided that the production would have to buy some camels and import them. I think the figure was fifty camels, including ten silver racing camels.

(Stop me if you've heard this before.)

De Toth is presented with a problem. Several production personnel have visited the sheik, and arranged to buy these camels, but the deal never seems to go through -- the camels don't come. André is the muggins who must go and investigate.

The deal is agreed once again, over a banquet. Then, the sheep's eyeballs are brought in. A rare delicacy. De Toth shrewdly realises the problem. All the previous production emissaries have refused to partake of this treat -- a fatal insult to the sheik. To make sure the deal goes through, De Toth must chow down on ovine orb.

For a brief moment he imagines that the consumed eye will replace his own missing left eye. He pops the thing in his mouth. Not so bad. Yes it is. Worse! Unendurably repugnant. He swallows, the sheik is appeased, and De Toth will awaken gagging for many nights to come, re-experiencing the traumatic sweetmeat.

De Toth and the camels and their herders go to Spain.

One morning, he is awakened in his hotel suite by the smell of camel dung. The camel herders are standing round his bed. They have bad news. The camels have escaped. All of them. How has this happened? Nobody knows.

Imagining haveing to return to Arabia and eat another sheep eye, De Toth pulls out all the stops. Soon he has the Guardia Civil sifting the dunes for his fugitive ruminants. Partial success! All ten of the silver racing camels are recaptured, but only 37 of the regular ones.

Defeated, De Toth reports the camel shortfall to Lean's trusted assistant, an indefatigable and resourceful woman. "Mr. Lean specifically asked for 50 camels and I only have 47." She thinks. "We won't tell him," she decides.

Lean goes into battle with 47 camels and never notices the difference. Nobody thinks to count them.

As for the missing camels, De Toth reports that they were still living in the Spanish desert when he shot PLAY DIRTY there some years later, adding enormously to the conviction of his North African setting. "We could never have afforded them otherwise."

Almeria in those days was such a popular location that film shoots would actually collide -- De Toth's armoured vehicles would break into the background of Edward Dmytryk's western SHALAKO, while Dmytryk's cowboys and Indians rampaged across De Toth's WWII campaign.

Maurice Binder's titles for Ken Russell's THE BILLION DOLLAR BRAIN (the second sequel to THE IPCRESS FILE with Michael Caine).

Saul Bass gets a very good press, and rightly so, but maybe we should also talk more about Maurice Binder? While Bass is more consistently elegant and tasteful, Binder could be guilty of breathtaking kitsch (those later Bond titles!), as well as more classical work.

ARABESQUE is a film made by Stanley Donen, who told his cinematographer, the great Christopher Challis (TALES OF HOFFMAN) that the script was so bad their only hope was to try every crazy photographic trick in the book. It works! The presence of Sophia Loren and Alan Badel also help compensate for the fey script and the usual Gregory Peck drag-factor.

A similar contempt for the story enlivens THE IPCRESS FILE, where director Sid Furie started the shoot by tearing up and stamping on his script in front of the whole crew. "THAT'S what I think of THAT!"

Michael Caine supposes he must have had to borrow somebody else's copy for the rest of the film.

Anyhow, Binder certainly gets these films off to a groovy start. I once asked production designer Ken Adam about Binder. The two had worked on many of the same James Bond films. I made the mistake of pronouncing the name "Morris Bynd-er". But Binder was a German like Adam himself:

"Maw-reece Bin-der," he enunciated, "was a lovely man, who liked, very much, to photograph silhouetted naked ladies."

Well, yes.

Binder himself told the story of his struggle with a model's pubic hair, which stuck out in a censorable mohawk formation, visible as she turned in silhouette. 'She wouldn't shave, so I thought I'd smooth it down with vaseline. I was just patting it down when [producer] Cubby Broccoli walked in. He just looked at me, then said, "Maurice, I think maybe I am paying you too much."'

Maybe sometime I'll post the titles of Billy Wilder's THE PRIVATE LIFE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES, a favourite film of mine. Elegant and witty credits by Binder, with Miklos Rosza's finest and most melancholy score. 'Why is it so SAD?' asks Fiona. The violin theme started life as a concerto by Rosza, and Wilder listened to it while writing the script. The sadness seeped into the comedy, making for Wilder's most deeply-felt work since maybe THE APARTMENT. It's also Wilder's SCOTTISH FILM and makes better use of Robert Stephens' unique gifts than any other movie -- although working with Wilder was so stressful for Stephens, he attempted suicide partway through the shoot.

(While Mitchell Leisen would annoy Wilder by cutting his scripts to make things more comfortable for the actors, Wilder, it seems, never did ANYTHING for the comfort of his actors...)

My friend Roland suggests that you tend to find the best title sequences attached to the worst films, and there are certainly cases of that, but as long as there are films like TPLOSH around, I can't subscribe to that as a guiding principle.

Flash-forward decades, and schlockmeister Uwe Boll challenges an array of critics to a boxing match, and proceeds to WHALE ON THEIR ASSES, delivering an animalistic, fist-based drubbing that knocks each and every one of them for six. It looks as painful as watching one of Boll's movies.

Inbetweentimes, we have a notorious confrontation between director Ken Russell and Evening Standard critic Alexander Walker, on live T.V. (the clip appears not to have been preserved). Walker, slamming Russell's THE DEVILS, had listed all the violent and obscene moments in the film, charging "we see Oliver Reed's testicles crushed." "That must have been wishful thinking on his part," says Russell, "because they certainly weren't."

Viewing the film attentively, it is clear what actually goes down: Reed has his legs placed between slats and crushed by Michael Gothard, who drives wedges in between the slats with a big hammer. I'm sure Walker would have found that pretty offensive too, but it IS based on solid historical fact, and we never see the hammer connect. Also, Aldous Huxley's description of the scene in his source book, The Devils of Loudun, is explicit, matter-of-fact, and just as appalling. The censor had actually made Russell cut the hammer blows down to ONE blow, then said, "Oh no, that makes it WORSE," and made him put some back.

Russell raised the inaccuracy of the review in the television discussion, but Walker didn't acknowledge any error. Understandably frustrated, Mad Ken proceeded to swear violently and strike Walker over the head with a rolled-up copy of his own review. "Should have had an iron bar inside it, but I didn't have one to hand."

It's pretty clear that the critics have invective sewn up. Artists can't respond to criticism verbally without looking like buffoons. They stifle their hurt and grow ulcers. When James Cameron suggested that critic Kenneth Turan should be fired for not liking TITANIC -- since this proved Turan was out of step with public opinion -- he just looked like an arse.

But violence ALWAYS works! If Cameron had struck Turan in the face with a pie, like the Belgian "pastry terrorists" who creamed Godard and Bill Gates some years ago, a lot more people would have sympathised (though we knew in our hearts even then that TITANIC was basically manipulative piffle). This kind of thing satisfies our inner sensation-seeker, and makes us feel that a worm has turned, an underdog has had their day. A filmmaker writing to the papers feels like a worrying reversal of the natural order. A filmmaker throwing a ridiculous strop and shoving a dignified older gentleman into a fountain just seems right and proper.* Tony Richardson, once a critic himself, said that his former colleagues in that profession were "acidulated intellectual eunuchs hugging their prejudices like feather boas," and certainly in these bracing physical encounters it's the critics who tend to come out of it worst.

But it can't be right, all this FIGHTING. Isn't there an alternative?

The movie THEATRE OF BLOOD suggests one possibility. It's a whimsical fantasy in which a ham actor (Vincent Price, arguably typecast) murders his way through the critics' circle, appropriating his choice of weapons and methodology from the plays of Wm. Shakespeare. Much better to revel in IMAGINARY violence, which is, after all, what most filmmakers are used to doing. When director Quentin Tarantino and NATURAL BORN KILLERS producer Don Murphy got into a fight in a Hollywood restaurant, both claimed to have given the other a thorough thrashing, but a waiter who witnessed the scuffle observed, "It was obvious neither of these guys knew how to fight." One pictures a hysterical BRIDGET JONES-style slappy fight, unbecoming of such maestros of cinematic mayhem.

THEATRE OF BLOOD upset me as a kid, when I saw it one Hogmanay night. It was a shock to see sitcom star Arthur Lowe getting his head sawn off in bed (and being murdered IN BED was particularly upsetting to a child). I'm still not even sure which Shakespeare play that was meant to be. A loose reading of Macbeth? Robert Morley being force-fed his own poodles in a pie, a reworking of Titus Andronicus, put one acquaintance off chicken pie for life. The appalling sadism savagery was inexplicable to a child, even one such as I who had been weaned on a diet of Hammer horror. Only with an adult's experienced eye can we appreciate the satisfaction of slaying critics. It then becomes clear how the film was able to attract such an all-star cast: great names of British film, theatre and television were queuing up to be slaughtered wearing cravats: Jack Hawkins, Michael Hordern, Dennis Price, Harry Andrews, Robert Coote, with Diana Dors and Coral Browne providing female victims (Price seems to particularly relish electrcuting his real-life wife).

As someone who both sits in the director's chair, when asked, and sits in judgement, in this blog, I have divided loyalties on this issue, and naturally I don't want to see anybody get hurt. I would be doubly at risk. So the idea of slaughtering critics through the medium of film strikes me as the most civilized and balanced option. Reviewers can continue to vivisect film-makers on the page, as long as the movie people can retaliate by hacking up the hacks on the screen. The public, who have always loved a Roman circus, are likely to be the winners.

*Nobody has actually done this to a critic yet but I'm hoping for a copycat crime to boost my circulation.

One fun thing about this joint -- from MY point of view anyhow -- is that I can see in my Blog Stats exactly what kind of web searches people use to find the site. Yes, I am looking into your dark hearts as you navigate the murky waters of the web and come into dock in my cyber-harbour.

As a result, I have become aware that two of the personages I've mentioned in passing have attracted quite a lot of notice. They are '60s British character star Murray Melvin, and Greek mythological character Medusa.

So, whopping great whore that I am, I thought I'd prepare a special blog posting about Murray Melvin and Medusa. Oh, and I'll throw in this random mention of ST TRINIAN'S head girl Gemma Arterton too, since so many of you seem to find her so damn interesting.*

Medusa was head girl of the Gorgons. She had snakes for hair.

Murray Melvin has hair for hair. He starred in A TASTE OF HONEY and pops up in Ken Russell's epic film maudit THE DEVILS, and Kubrick's BARRY LYNDON (the litmus test film that hardcore Kubrickians admire most, and that nobody else likes all that much).

Medusa had a petrifying gaze.

Murray Melvin is a petrifying gay.

Actually, I have no private information about Mr. Melvin's sexuality at all, so I take that back. He was cast as gay in A TASTE OF HONEY and it kind of stuck. He played highly repressed characters in THE DEVILS and BARRY LYNDON, and is a sort of Poster Boy for British Sexual Ambivalence (B.S.A.). I find it interesting (and definitely regrettable) that British cinema has made so little use of him since the swinging 'sixties and 'seventies. My theory is that Melvin's camp quality is out of fashion in a world that either wishes to ignore homosexuality, or is eager to present images of gay men that don't fit the camp stereotype. But some gay men ARE camp, if you want to use that word, and Melvin is an excellent actor, so where's the problem?

It reminds me of the way Hollywood discovered racial sensitivity in the 'forties and slowly phased out most most of the actors who'd made a living playing "comedy negroes" and servants. Replacing them with...virtually nothing. There's an argument that flawed representation is better than NO representation.

The possibility also arises that M.M. was acting camp in films because the roles demanded it, and could just as easily play Dead Butch. It would be slightly surprising to me, but it's still possible. In which case his recent disuse by our national cinema is even sillier.

The last time I saw M.M. at the cinema was way back in Scots director Bill Douglas' COMRADES, which also featured Barbara Windsor and Robert Stephens, who likewise should have been in far more movies.

When Harry Hamlin Perseus lopped off Medusa's serpentine head, her stare maintained its terrible power after death. Still going strong in his seventies, Murray Melvin likewise maintains his momentous powers of dramaturgical dazzlement.

*"Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?" ~ Johnny Rotten.

And:

This isn't a theory! Russell has talked often about his love of Busby Berkeley's musical numbers (also: Fritz Lang's METROPOLIS; THE WIZARD OF OZ; THE BLUE ANGEL) and specifically homaged them in THE BOYFRIEND, but with a little squinting you can see their influence all over his work. Mad Ken correctly perceives them as nightmarish hallucinations (dreamed up by Busby in the bath under the malign influence of the dry martini, coincidentally Bunuel's favourite tipple) and uses their Vigorously Oneiric Qualities regularly in his own work. The skull that moves in on us during the credits of GOTHIC is an even closer match for Wini Shaw in GOLD DIGGERS OF 1935, whom I've always referred to as The Floating Head of Death. She freaks me out, drifting in on me like that! Only Arthur Frayn from ZARDOZ is allowed to pull a stunt like that in my household. And even then, only once a year, on his birthday.

Now I'm wondering if the Floating Head Woman against the star-scape at the end of THE ELEPHANT MAN ("Nothing will die"), who fades from view, morphs into Virginia Madsen (we LOVE Virginia Madsen!), slips on a ruff and comes back at the start of DUNE, is also a descendant of Wini Shaw?

Put another way: does David Lynch love Busby Berkeley?

He'd be CRAZY not to!

Este volumen reúne más de 1.000 películas y más de 300 secuencias de títulos, de más de 150 creadores. Una obra imprescindible para tener un conocimiento global de una de las especialidades gráficas más conocidas y menos reconocidas; el background de las tendencias actuales e, inevitablemente, futuras del diseño gráfico en movimiento. Además, el libro incluye un DVD con una selección de los títulos analizados en el libro, en formato QuickTime.

Uncredited is the first book to offer a general and historic insight into the role played by graphic design in films, from the dawn of cinema to the present day. It presents a critical analysis of the opening title sequences, thus throwing a light on the typographic work and composition of anonymous designers or of those rarely accredited. An analysis which, as well as revisiting the most well known artists such as Saul Bass, Pablo Ferro, Maurice Binder or Kyle Cooper; it uncovers the incursion of prestigious designers into this specialty such as Tibor Kalman, Milton Glaser, David Hillman, Juan Gatti or Simon Taylor.

This book includes over 1,000 films and over 300 sequences of opening titles, from more than 150 creators. A must for those in search of global knowledge about one the most recognized and unrecognized graphic specializations - the background for today's and inevitably, the future's trends in motion graphics design. The book also includes a DVD containing a selection of the titles analyzed within its pages, in QuickTime format.

Authors: Gemma Solana / Antonio Boneu
Includes DVD with the animated credits
Publisher: Index Book
Year: 2007
Pages: 320 pages
Format: 25x30 cm
Features: hardcover with jacket
Languages: Spanish

Algunos créditos memorables

Manhattan de Woody Allen, música de George Gershwin

The Dead Zone de David Cronenberg, títulos de Richard Greenberg

Blade Runner, de Ridley Scott, títulos de Intralink Film Graphic Design

Altered States, de Ken Russell, títulos de Richard Greenberg

Delicatessen, de Marc Caro y Jean-Pierre Jeunet, títulos de Marc Bruckert

Is a Mad mad mad mad world, de Stanley Kramer, títulos de Saul Bass

LISZTOMANIA (1975): Lisztomania is the very portrait of excess. Russell usually delights, astounds and offends with equal measure. Be prepared. Lisztomania is a (very loose) biography of composer/piano virtuoso Franz Liszt, but through a psychedelic pop art lens. It's awfully campy, and full of elaborate setpieces, musical numbers, and crazy visuals. And, like much of Ken Russell's work, there's a strong sexual component too. The tagline said this one "Out "Tommy"s Tommy" and that's not far off. From the jacket copy:

"The shaggy-maned idol rips into his song -- and the audience screams with excitement. Some ecstatic fans storm the stage, wanting simply to touch him. Some want to bear his child. One adoring woman announces she already has. And outside the hall, a horse-drawn carriage awaits to whisk the performer away. Meet Franz Liszt, rock star circa 1840. Courtesy of Ken Russell, British cinema's most excessive devotee of classical music (The Music Lovers, Mahler, Elgar, etc.) Lisztomania's story of the turbulent friendship between Liszt (The Who's Roger Daltrey) and Richard Wagner (Tommy's Paul Nicholas), otherwise a historical footnote, is writ large to include vampires, groupie superheroes, Charlie Chaplain, Nazis and the Frankenstein Monster... surprise after outlandish surprise! You've got to see it to believe it... and by then, you too will be in the thrall of Lisztomania!"

to be preceded by:

"Sombra Dolorosa" (2004): Though this short is by Guy Maddin and not Ken Russell, its blender-style dream logic juxtapositions and savviness of the pop-culture landscape make it an excellent pair with Lisztomania. The following description is from an IMDB user comment: "Widow Paramo has lost her husband, Don Paramo, to the plague. Their daughter Dolores is inconsolable. With death in the air, Dolores is considering suicide, with El Muerto (the eater of souls) preparing himself to welcome her into the darkness. To save her daughter, Widow Paramo must battle the great El Muerto and defeat him. This battle, as with all existential wars, happens in a Mexican boxing ring and takes the form of a wrestling match."

and

Ken Russell interview from BROTHERS OF THE HEAD (2006): Ken Russell talks about his method of making biography -- and eschewing documentary -- in this clip from the deleted scenes of Brothers of the Head, a pseudo-documentary based on the novel by science fiction writer Brian Aldiss about conjoined punk rock twins. In the film, Ken Russell is supposed to have directed an exploitation film based on the brothers called Two-Way Romeo.

Daniella Llyod, former Miss Great Britian 2006, was the second celebrity to enter.  Stripped of her title after being caught in a sex scandal with one of her judges.

Ken Russell, English film director, was the third celebrity to enter.  Director of movies such as “Tommy” and “Women of Love”, he is fascinated by this reality TV program.

Jo O’Mara, singer of S Club 7, was the fourth celebrity to enter.  She released her own single after the band split.

Leo Sawyer, grammy winner, was the fifth celebrity to enter.  In the states, his songs reached to the Number One Spot with “You make me feel like dancing”.

Shilpa Shetty, Bollywood actress, was the sixth celebrity to enter.  Shilpa has been dubbed “The Indian Angelina Jolie” and is one of the most famous Indian actresses in Bollywood because she is recognized everywhere she goes.

Carol Malone, famous journalist, was the seventh celebrity to enter.  Booed by the crowd before entering, she told Davina that the previous Celebrities on Big Brother were morons.

Donny Tourette, lead singer of Tower of London, was the eigth celebrity to enter.   Disgusting!  With the crowd taunting and booing him, he flipped off the crowd multiple times, and he entered the house shortly after speaking to an angry Davina.

Ian Watkins, former band member of Steps, was the ninth celebrity to enter.  Lately, Ian has been acting in musicals and plays, and he came out as gay this past week.

Cleo Rocos, co-star of The Kenny Everett show, was the tenth celebrity to enter.

Dirk Benedict, Battlestar Galactica star, was the last celebrity to enter the house.  After Battlestar Galactica, he starred in the TV show A-Team.  His first words upon entering the house were “Now begins the torture.”   He says that all his characters on TV are shallow, and he is hoping to meet someone in the house for love.