Cinema Director Quotes

I look at the world and I see absurdity all around me. People do strange things constantly, to the point that, for the most part, we manage not to see it.

Make films that purify the soul with the flow of rational, vigorous and compassionate thinking.

Use filmmaking for a greater purpose, than to just entertain some drowsy minds. Wake the whole world up with your movies. It has been sleeping for long. Its eternal sleep has become its darkest nemesis. Now is the time to wake it up.

A Film has the potential to kindle such a spark of inspiration in an individual that it can alter the course of human progress.

Entertain, but also, give the viewer something to think about.

Kenji Mizoguchi is to the cinema what Bach is to music, Cervantes is to literature, Shakespeare is to theatre, Titian is to painting: the very greatest.

Give people films, they will forget after a few weeks, but give people ideas, they will assimilate them into their consciousness.

fiction writers are the writer-directors of the cinema of inner consciousness,

I'm not really a director. I'm a man who believes in the validity of a person's inner desires. And I think those inner desires, whether they're ugly or beautiful, are pertinent to each of us and are probably the only things worth a damn. I want to put those inner dreams on the screen so we can all look and think and feel and marvel at them.

Nature is a cinema. God, the cinematographer.

Take the clapper and become the alarm that the world so desperately needs.

Whatever genre you deem suitable for your taste – romance, comedy, action, mystery, sci-fi or anything else, make sure it has the plain everyday human kindness.

Filmmaking has the power to fortify the feeble, unify the divided, raise the abandoned and inspire the ignorant.

Use filmmaking to eliminate racism – use to it terminate misogyny – use it to destroy homophobia and all other primitiveness.

New York city wasn't yet the post-Giuliani, Bloomberg forever, Disneyland tourist attraction of today, trade-marked and policed to protect the visitors and tourism industry. It was still a place of diversity, where people lived their lives in vibrant communities and intact cultures. Young people could still move to New York City after or instead of high school or college and invent an identity, an art, a life. Times Square was still a bustling center of excitement, with sex work, "adult" movies, a variety of sins on sale, ways to make money for those down on their luck".

But reading is different, reading is something you do. With TV, and cinema for that matter, everything’s handed to you on a plate, nothing has to be worked at, they just spoon-feed you. The picture, the sound, the scenery, the atmospheric music in case you haven’t understood what the director’s on about… The creaking door that tells you to be stiff. You have to imagine it all when you’re reading.

La Historia (que, a semejanza de cierto director cinematográfico, procede por imágenes discontinuas) propone ahora la de una arriesgada taberna, que está en el todopoderoso desierto igual que en alta mar.

...What I have to say is very simple and very short: [Jean-Pierre Melville]'s the greatest director I've had the good fortune, pleasure and honor to work with up to this point. It'd take too long to explain. He's wonderful. He knows more about cinema than anyone. He's the greatest director I know, the greatest cameraman, the best at framing and lighting, the best at everything. He's a living encyclopedia of cinema.

And eventually in that house where everyone, even the fugitive hiding in the cellar from his faceless enemies, finds his tongue cleaving dryly to the roof of his mouth, where even the sons of the house have to go into the cornfield with the rickshaw boy to joke about whores and compare the length of their members and whisper furtively about dreams of being film directors (Hanif's dream, which horrifies his dream-invading mother, who believes the cinema to be an extension of the brothel business), where life has been transmuted into grotesquery by the irruption into it of history, eventually in the murkiness of the underworld he cannot help himself, he finds his eyes straying upwards, up along delicate sandals and baggy pajamas and past loose kurta and above the dupatta, the cloth of modesty, until eyes meet eyes, and then

There are two kinds of directors; those who have the public in mind when they conceive and make their films and those who don't consider the public at all. For the former, cinema is an art of spectacle; for the latter, it is an individual adventure. There is nothing intrinsically better about one or the other; it's simply a matter of different approaches. For Hitchcock as for Renoir, as for that matter almost all American directors, a film has not succeeded unless it is a success, that is, unless it touches the public that one has had in mind right from the moment of choosing the subject matter to the end of production. While Bresson, Tati, Rossellini, Ray make films their own way and then invite the public to join the "game," Renoir, Clouzot, Hitchcock and Hawks make movies for the public, and ask themselves all the questions they think will interest their audience. Alfred Hitchcock, who is a remarkably intelligent man, formed the habit early--right from the start of his career in England--of predicting each aspect of his films. All his life he has worked to make his own tastes coincide with the public', emphasizing humor in his English period and suspense in his American period. This dosage of humor and suspense has made Hitchcock one of the most commercial directors in the world (his films regularly bring in four times what they cost). It is the strict demands he makes on himself and on his art that have made him a great director.

Filmmaking isn’t if you can just strap on a camera onto an actor, and steadicam, and point it at their face, and follow them through the movie, that is not what moviemaking is, that is not what it’s about. It’s not just about getting a performance. It’s also about the psychology of the cinematic moment, and the psychology of the presentation of that, of that window.

Copying culture. Another, rather different approach to unsatisfactory culture is to imitate it, replacing the offensive bits with more palatable ones. A subculture within American society might decide that the best solution to the desultory state of the film industry is to start their own movie industry, complete with producers, directors, writers, actors and even theaters, and create a kind of parallel film industry that will fix the apparent problems in mainstream cinema. The new movies created and distributed by this system would certainly be cultural goods, of a sort. But if they were never shown in mainstream movie theaters—if, indeed, they were created and consumed entirely by members of a particular subculture—they would have no influence on the culture of mainstream movies at all.

La única comunicación adecuada con el espectador es ésta: permanecer fiel a sí mismo. Sin concesión alguna a ese ochenta por ciento de espectadores de cine que, por motivos indescifrables, exigen de nosotros, los directores, que les entretengamos. A la vez, nosotros los directores hemos empezado a despreciar tanto ese ochenta por ciento de espectadores, que estamos dispuestos a entretenerles, puesto que de ellos depende la financiación de la próxima película: una situación sin salida.

When it comes to the selections, I heard several observers claim that the Academy was embracing “nostalgia” by honoring The Artist and Hugo. Give me a break! Hugo represents cutting-edge storytelling by a world-class director—in 3-D, no less. The Artist dares to revisit a form of cinema that was abandoned in the late 1920s. The Academy members admired these films for making the past seem immediate and relevant. That has nothing to do with nostalgia; it has everything to do with great moviemaking, which is what the Academy Awards are all about.

Tony Williams: You’ve often mentioned that Tales of Hoffmann (1951) has been a major influence on you. George Romero: It was the first film I got completely involved with. An aunt and uncle took me to see it in downtown Manhattan when it first played. And that was an event for me since I was about eleven at the time. The imagery just blew me away completely. I wanted to go and see a Tarzan movie but my aunt and uncle said, “No! Come and see a bit of culture here.” So I thought I was missing out. But I really fell in love with the film. There used to be a television show in New York called Million Dollar Movie. They would show the same film twice a day on weekdays, three times on Saturday, and three-to-four times on Sunday. Tales of Hoffmann appeared on it one week. I missed the first couple of days because I wasn’t aware that it was on. But the moment I found it was on, I watched virtually every telecast. This was before the days of video so, naturally, I couldn’t tape it. Those were the days you had to rent 16mm prints of any film. Most cities of any size had rental services and you could rent a surprising number of films. So once I started to look at Tales of Hoffmann I realized how much stuff Michael Powell did in the camera. Powell was so innovative in his technique. But it was also transparent so I could see how he achieved certain effects such as his use of an overprint in the scene of the ballet dancer on the lily ponds. I was beginning to understand how adept a director can be. But, aside from that, the imagery was superb. Robert Helpmann is the greatest Dracula that ever was. Those eyes were compelling. I was impressed by the way Powell shot Helpmann sweeping around in his cape and craning down over the balcony in the tavern. I felt the film was so unique compared to most of the things we were seeing in American cinema such as the westerns and other dreadful stuff I used to watch. Tales of Hoffmann just took me into another world in terms of its innovative cinematic technique. So it really got me going. Tony Williams: A really beautiful print exists on laserdisc with commentary by Martin Scorsese and others. George Romero: I was invited to collaborate on the commentary by Marty. Pat Buba (Tony’s brother) knew Thelma Schoonmaker and I got to meet Powell in later years. We had a wonderful dinner with him one evening. What an amazing guy! Eventually I got to see more of his movies that I’d never seen before such as I Know Where I’m Going and A Canterbury Tale. Anyway, I couldn’t do the commentary on Tales of Hoffmann with Marty. But, back in the old days in New York, Marty and I were the only two people who would rent a 16mm copy of the film. Every time I found it was out I knew that he had it and each time he wanted it he knew who had it! So that made us buddies.

It is madness, by the way, that every director does not do whatever it takes—financially, spiritually, erotically—to put Nicolas Cage in everything they make. He is the only person who ever does anything interesting in any movie. Yeah, I said it! Do I mean it? I don’t know. But I do know that sometimes I forget about Nicolas Cage for weeks or even years at a time, and then I watch a Nicolas Cage movie again and it feels like coming home—to a house where your dad is cocaine and your mom licks your face if you’ve been good AND if you’ve been bad. I’m happy there!

During his time at VGIK, Tarkovsky and his fellow students studied all aspects of filmmaking, watching the classics of Soviet cinema and taking part in workshops in which they would demonstrate their technical ability. This even included acting; Tarkovsky’s fellow student and friend, Alexander Gordon, remembers him giving a superb performance as the aging Prince Bolkonsky when Romm got the students to perform scenes from War and Peace during their third year at VGIK. Tarkovsky saw many classics from outside the Soviet Union, including Citizen Kane, the films of John Ford and William Wyler, and the works of the fathers of the French New Wave, Jean Renoir and Jean Vigo. Tarkovsky developed a personal pantheon that included Bergman, Bunuel, Mizoguchi and Kurosawa, Fellini and Antonioni. The only Soviet director who made it into his pantheon was Dovzhenko, although he was good friends with the Georgian director Sergei Parajanov, whom he regarded as ‘a genius in everything’. He also spoke highly of Iosseliani, and, on occasion, of Boris Barnet. But above them all was the towering figure of Robert Bresson, whom Tarkovsky regarded as the ultimate film artist.

A number of Chinese filmmakers, including Chen Kaige and Li Shaohong, imitated Zhang's visual style in the early 1990s by multiplying various erotic images of the oriental Other for global consumption. Consequently, these films, usually sponsored by multinational corporations and catering to the tastes of global audiences, can be perceived as following the same model -- the Zhang Yimou model. To a great degree, this model also marks the end of formal experiment for the Fifth Generation directors because they must adopt a much more conventional way of filmmaking in order to meed the demand of the global market.

There is no one way of seeing. Nor is there a right way of seeing. Yet simply to accept the notion that both the male and the female gaze are equally valid and equally to be valued in cinema (and in life) is to welcome with relief the rise of women directors. Needless to say, there are whole aspects of human experience that women are much better positioned to explore, including friendship between women, anxieties about women’s careers, women’s parenting and aging, women’s social concerns and, as in the work of Kathryn Bigelow, men as seen through women’s eyes. Likewise, though romance may be of equal concern to both sexes, a woman’s perspective will inevitably be different.

I haven’t said it yet, but it seemed implied, that cinema for me was the American one, current Hollywood productions. “My” period goes roughly from The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (Henry Hathaway, 1935) with Gary Cooper and Mutiny on the Bounty (Frank Lloyd, 1935) with Charles Laughton and Clark Gable, to the death of Jean Harlow (which I relived many years later like the death of Marilyn Monroe, in an era more aware of the neurotic power of every symbol), with lots of comedies in between, the mystery-romances with Myrna Loy and William Powell and the dog Asta, the musicals of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, the crime pictures of Chinese detective Charlie Chan and the horror films of Boris Karloff. I didn’t remember the names of the directors as well as the names of the actors, except for a few like Frank Capra, Gregory La Cava, and Frank Borzage, who represented the poor rather than the millionaires, usually with Spencer Tracy: they were the good-natured directors from the Roosevelt era; I learned this later; back then I consumed everything without distinguishing between them too much. American cinema in that moment consisted of a collection of actors’ faces without equal before or after (at least it seemed that way to me) and the adventures were simple mechanisms to get these faces together (sweethearts, character actors, extras) in different combinations.

Sí, cabe reconocer, con respecto a las primeras obras de Dante, que en el tratamiento de la violencia prevalece una asepsia, una suavidad usual en tantas producciones Amblin: cuando los criminales asaltan los laboratorios haciéndose pasar por reparadores de teléfonos (sic), atacan con gas y no con pistolas; armas de fuego y explosiones escasean en la película. Sin embargo, esta gestión de la violencia responde, en paralelo, a la personalidad del director: Dante puede triturar a un soldado en Pequeños guerreros, explotar a un gremlin en un microondas, recrearse en el cadáver de Igoe corroído por el ácido en El chip prodigioso o en cómo niños son devorados por pirañas; en cambio, a la hora de exhibir armas de fuego objeta contra la proliferación de disparos, revólveres y ametralladoras. La banalización del efecto destructivo de la munición despoja de su significado a artilugios con una función homicida, que se convierten en meras imágenes sin sentido. Todo el metraje de Pequeños guerreros patentizará la postura del director, que en El chip prodigioso refrenda el pasmo del niño ataviado a lo Rambo ante el disparo (real) que hiere a Ozzie.

The lack of distinction between the real and the virtual is the obsession of our age. Everything in our current affairs attests to this, not to mention the big cinematic productions: The Truman Show, Total Recall, Existenz, Matrix, etc. This question has always been there behind literature and philosophy, but it has been present metaphorically, as it were, implicitly, through the filter of discourse. The 'encoding/decoding' of reality was done by discourse, that is to say, by a highly complex medium, never leaving room for a head-on truth. The encoding/decoding of our reality is done by technology. Only what is produced by this technical effect acquires visible reality. And it does so at the cost of a simplification that no longer has anything to do with language or with the slightest ambivalence and which, therefore, puts an end to this subtle lack of distinction between the real and the virtual, as subtle as the lack of distinction between good and evil. Through special effects, everything acquires an operational self-evidence, a spectacular reality that is, properly speaking, the reign of simulation. What the directors of these films have not realized (any more than the simulationist artists of New York in the eighties) is that simulation is a hypothesis, a game that turns reality itself into one eventuality among others.

THIS IS A BOOK ABOUT FRENCH CINEMA, specifically the women of today’s French cinema—a subject as vital as life and as irresistible as movies. Yet many Americans, unfamiliar with French film, will hear “women of today’s French cinema” and immediately imagine something forbidding or austere. Other more refined cineastes may know and appreciate the French movies that play at art houses and arrive on DVD in this country, but they can’t know the full story. They are not in a position to know that what they are seeing is just a hint of something vast and extraordinary. The full story is that for the last two decades France has been in the midst of an explosion of female talent. What is happening in France today is a blossoming of female brilliance and originality of a kind that has never happened anywhere or at any period of film history, with but one glorious exception—in the Hollywood of the 1930s. Indeed, today’s Hepburns, Davises, Crawfords, Garbos, and Stanwycks are not American. They’re French. They are working constantly, appearing up to three or four times each year in films geared to their star personalities and moral meaning. These films, often intelligent, personal, and insightful investigations into what it means to be human in the twenty-first century, are the kinds of films that many Americans want to see. And they wonder why no one is making them. But people are making them, just not in the United States. Moreover, women are not only working in front of the camera in France but behind it, too. Important actresses are writing and directing films, and many of the country’s biggest and most acclaimed directors are women. Truly, this is a halcyon period, happening as we speak, and to miss this moment would be like living in 1920 and never seeing a silent comedy, or like living in 1950 and never seeing a film noir. It would be to miss one of the most enriching cinematic movements of your time. Yet most Americans, virtually all Americans, have been missing it.

Despite these supposedly stringent controls, however, the system was hampered by one major factor: during the mid to late 1950s, the Soviet film industry began expanding at an almost exponential rate, epitomised by the international success of Mikhail Kalatozov’s The Cranes are Flying, which won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1957. This resurgence owed a lot to the 20th Party Congress in 1956, at which Khrushchev denounced Stalinism, thereby precipitating the ‘Thaw’ that initiated the most liberal cultural climate in the Soviet Union for 30 years. The film industry thrived as a result. In 1955, 65 features were produced; by the early 1960s, this had risen to over 100 per year. Cinemas likewise doubled in number, from 59,000 in 1955 to 118,000 in 1965. Aside from Kalatozov, other directors rose to prominence between the late fifties and mid sixties, such as Elem Klimov, Larissa Shepitko and Andrei Mikhalkov-Konchalovsky, and the only two Soviet directors Tarkovsky professed to admire, Otar Iosseliani and Sergei Parajanov.

One of the greatest films ever made by a director who, almost forty years after his death, is still an intimidating and disturbing figure in the history of cinema. Visconti’s films stand outside the borders of the medium, by their ambition, by their scope, uniting past and present, individuals and history, both deeply human and transcendent. The Leopard, his most translucent, towering achievement, embodies everything the best filmmaking can be, grand, profound, entertaining, physical and metaphysical, sharp as a blade and melodramatic. It stays with you, forever.

Ifukube’s music was rarely tampered with or shortened by Honda after it had been recorded and the director gave his composer total freedom in writing whatever music he deemed appropriate.

We live in the Movie Age. We should make a list of the movies we’ve loved and hated, the ones that bored us, inspired us, made us laugh or cry, sick or elated. Then we need to compare those movies with our own life. Would anyone else want to watch the movie of our life? Would we want to watch it ourselves? Maybe we’d be the only person in the cinema even though admission was free. Maybe even we would walk out. And if it was that bad, shouldn’t we be doing something about it? When Hollywood movies really stink, the directors want their names removed from the credits. “Alan Smithee” is the name that gets used instead. How many of us are in Alan Smithee movies? If we could avoid using our real name, we would.

Rose meant that while horror films proffered suspense, in reality every fan knows the accepted “rules” of the genre. He argued that, in general, horror movies are actually “one of the safest spaces in cinema” since a fan’s knowledge of what to expect provides them with a “flashlight” for the darkest corners a director might lead them to.

*I’ve always had an alternative reading of the Body Snatchers movies (Siegel’s, Kaufman’s, and Ferrara’s). Each movie presents the Pod People in a sinister light. Yet really, almost nothing they do on screen really bears out this sinister interpretation. If you’re one who believes that your soul is what makes you you, then I suppose the Pod People are murdering the Earthlings they duplicate and replace. However, if you’re more of the mind that it is your intellect and your consciousness that make you who you are, then the Pod People transformation is closer to a rebirth than a murder. You’re reborn as straight intellect, with a complete possession of your past and your abilities, but unburdened by messy human emotions. You also possess a complete fidelity to your fellow beings and a total commitment to the survival of your species. Are they inhuman? Of course, they’re vegetables. But the movies try to present their lack of humanity (they don’t have a sense of humor, they’re unmoved when a dog is hit by a car) as evidence of some deep-seated sinisterness. That’s a rather species-centric point of view. As human beings it may be our emotions that make us human, but it’s a stretch to say it’s what makes us great. Along with those positive emotions—love, joy, happiness, amusement—come negative emotions—hate, selfishness, racism, depression, violence, and rage. For instance, with all the havoc that Donald Sutherland causes in the Kaufman version, including the murder of various Pod People, there never is a thought of punishment or vengeance on the Pod People’s part, even though he’s obviously proven himself to be a threat. They just want him to become one of them. Imagine in the fifties, when the Siegel film was made, that instead of some little town in Northern California (Santa Mira) that the aliens took root in, it was a horribly racist, segregated Ku Klux Klan stronghold in the heart of Mississippi. Within weeks the color lines would disappear. Blacks and whites would be working together (in genuine brotherhood) towards a common goal. And humanity would be represented by one of the racist Kluxers whose investigative gaze notices formerly like-minded white folks seemingly enter into a conspiracy with some members of the county’s black community. Now picture his hysterical reaction to it (“Those people are coming after me! They’re not human! You’re next! You’re next!”). *Solving the problems, both large and small, of your actors—lead actors especially—is the job of a film director.

In 2014, former Deputy Counsel or Acting General Counsel of the CIA, John Rizzo, wrote, ‘The CIA has long had a special relationship with the entertainment industry, devoting considerable attention to fostering relationships with Hollywood movers and shakers—studio executives, producers, directors, big-name actors.

In 2014, former Deputy Counsel or Acting General Counsel of the CIA, John Rizzo, wrote, ‘The CIA has long had a special relationship with the entertainment industry, devoting considerable attention to fostering relationships with Hollywood movers and shakers—studio executives, producers, directors, big-name actors.

Swedish Match Corporation was just one part of Ivar’s empire. He controlled ten other businesses through his public “holding” company, Kreuger & Toll, another Swedish corporation. In addition to its stake in Swedish Match, Kreuger & Toll also invested in banking, real estate, and the film industry. Ivar formed separate real estate companies to hold his properties,14 and he used separate subsidiaries for each business, in order to avoid registration fees applicable to larger companies.15 One of his property holdings was Kvasten 6 Biblioteksgatan, where the well-known Stockholm cinema Röda Kvarn was located.16 This purchase led Ivar to become involved in the film industry, and to meet prominent directors and actors, include a leading director in Sweden, Mauritz Stiller. Ivar formed Svenska Filmindustri, a company that dominated Swedish cinema and brought him great pleasure, though little money. SF, as the company was known, was at the center of the golden age of Swedish film, and made critically acclaimed movies based on novels by the country’s leading writers.

He makes a run for it and Bond follows, giving us one of the greatest moments in cinema history. During the editing of this sequence, a shot was required of Bond peering from behind a rock as Fekkesh makes his escape from Jaws. The problem was that they’d not filmed it, so director Lewis Gilbert asked the art department to help solve the problem. They sourced a photo of Roger that suited their needs then blew it up to size, created a painting of him leaning against a rock and inserted it into the shot. Problem solved. For many, many years I didn’t notice it was there, but once it’s noticed, it’s all you can see – and the same goes for the audience watching the pyramid show as Bond makes his way to his seat – look closely and you’ll notice they are all a painting, too. Movie magic.

An official Taliban gazette published a week before the September 11 attacks clarified the following list of items formally banned in the Islamic Emirate: “The pig itself; pork; pig fat; objects made of human hair; natural human hair; dish antennas; sets for cinematography and sound recording projectors; sets for microphotography, in case it is used in the cinema; all instruments which themselves produce music, such as the piano, the harmonium, the flute, the tabla, the tanbour, the sarangi; billiard tables and their accessories; chess boards; carom boards; playing cards; masks; any alcoholic beverage; all audio cassettes, video cassettes, computers and television which include sex and music; centipedes; lobsters (a kind of sea animal); nail polish; firecrackers; fireworks (for children); all kinds of cinematographic films, even though they may be sent abroad; all statues of animate beings in general; all sewing catalogues which have photos of animate beings; published tableaus (photos); Christmas cards; greeting cards bearing images of living things; neckties; bows (the thing which strengthens the necktie); necktie pins.

Working on a shoestring, which in my case is more often a matter of circumstance than of choice, never appeared to me as a cornerstone for aesthetics, and Dogme-type stuff just bores me. So it’s rather in order to bring some comfort to young filmmakers in need that I mention these few technical details: The material for La Jetee was created with a Pentax 24x36, and the only “cinema” part (the blinking of the eyes) with an Arriflex 35mm film camera, borrowed for one hour. Sans Soleil was entirely shot with a 16mm Beaulieu silent film camera (not one sync take within the whole film), with 100-foot reels – 2'44" autonomy! –and a small cassette recorder (not even a Walkman; they didn’t exist yet). The only “sophisticated” device – given the time – was the spectre image synthesizer, also borrowed for a few days. This is to say that the basic tools for these two films were literally available to anyone. No silly boasting here, just the conviction that today, with the advent of computer and small DV cameras (unintentional homage to Dziga Vertov), would-be directors need no longer submit their fate to the unpredictability of producers or the arthritis of televisions, and that by following their whims or passions, they perhaps see one day their tinkering elevated to DVD status by honorable men.

According to the annual Hollywood Diversity Report from UCLA’s Division of Social Sciences, in 2019, only 5.5% of the directors and 5.6% of the writers of theatrical releases were Black,

In my experience as a cameraman, it was quite exceptional to have to light up a surface and volumes that were so immense as those in the Berlin library. I was both very impressed and also worried when the decision was made to shoot in that location. My general philosophy is never to argue with the director. I have only done so very rarely. I can't remember ever refusing to shoot any given scene - as certain of my colleagues had. Whatever difficulties were involved, I told myself: "Actually, I'm here to try to effectuate the thought of the director. So let's try to acquiesce to his vision." And Wim wanted this fabulous decor. But with respect to technical matters, it required a lot of equipment. And it was my good fortune to be working for a company that could finance my own needs, which were enormous. Since there was a lot of current needed, a lot of lights, a lot of gaffers to do the installations. Since everything had to be hidden. And in fact, you don't see a single light, despite the fact that there were scores of them set up at the location. And it was difficult because we filmed in the daytime - but since it was winter, at three or four o'clock in the afternoon, it looks light night - we had to take whatever measures we could to prolong the day, even if we continued filming in the same direction as at the start. It was then decided - and this is one of the nice things about working with Wim - that as long as the daylight lasted, we would film in one direction, and when night came, we would change direction, and return a week later (since we could only film there one day a week: on Sunday). So there were in fact immense difficulties. And in the end, I found that these were beneficial constraints, because something good always comes from having constraints. The same is true of painting. Painters who have no constraints don't produce anything extraordinary. I think that in all the arts, these constraints are present. And there are plenty of them in the art of cinema. So I acquiesced to these difficult conditions for shooting, and in the end I was rather happy with the situation.

So since this generation of genre directors were forced to make what at the end of the day they considered silly stories about cowboys and cops and robbers, in order to make those sill stories mean something to them, they based them in metaphors that pertained to their own lives.

Lesser is back in New York. He’d been in Paris for two months working as a gofer for the film director Maurice Barraque. To Lesser and his fellow Francophile cineastes, every one of Barraque’s films is a revelation. Beginning in the late sixties Barraque had directed and starred in his own films, all made for nothing, in circumstances that were as haphazard as they were abject. His best works were bolts of genius quickly written, hastily shot and never revised. He was a beautiful drug addict, a poet and painter of light and sound. Onscreen, he was as luminous a presence as the great beauties of European cinema who played opposite him. They worked for nothing, they expected nothing - half of his films were never finished. It was a career famous for disappointment and disaster: Cinema is haunted. We do not watch it, it watches us. But suddenly, late in life he’d had an improbable, unexpected renaissance and began churning out, year after year, small-scale diary-like films. He became almost respectable. All he required was a 16-mm camera, a handful of actors, a few rooms for them to move about in. And, of course, the streets of Paris.

I saw it as a movie about this uncontrolled, individualistic, do-it-your-way form of life—our way of life—which defeated those dictatorial sons-a-bitches.” -- director John Sturges

I cut a forlorn figure as I tramp through the streets of Ginza in the pouring rain, killing time before the 7 p.m. showing of director Kiju Yoshida's 1973 film Kaigenrei at the National Film Center.

THERE WAS ONE MAN in the movie business immune to the usual pressures of dealing with actors, directors, set design, and union contractors. He created stars who never aged, never complained, never walked off the job, and never demanded salaries. By 1937 Walt Disney was already a dominant parallel force to the studio system, “the Horatio Alger hero of Cinema.” He did need distribution, but his company’s work had such a strong draw at the box office that the distribution arms needed Disney more than the other way around. He controlled the biggest star in the world, Mickey Mouse, who had debuted in a short seven-minute cartoon Steamboat Willie in 1928. Even better, Mickey was a commercial phenomenon away from the box office.

The reason why we can’t see our eyes moving with our own eyes is because our brains edit out the bits between the saccades—a process called saccadic suppression. Without it, we’d look at an object and it would be a blurry mess. What we perceive as vision is the director’s cut of a film, with your brain as the director, seamlessly stitching together the raw footage to make a coherent reality. Perception is the brain’s best guess at what the world actually looks like. Immense though the computing power of that fleshy mass sitting in the darkness of our skulls is, if we were to take in all the information in front of our eyes, our brains would surely explode.** Instead, our eyes sample bits and pieces of the world, and we fill in the blanks in our heads. This fact is fundamental to the way that cinema works. A film is typically 24 static images run together every second, which our brain sees as continuous fluid movement—that’s why it’s called a movie. The illusion of movement actually happens at more like 16 frames per second. At that speed, a film projection is indistinguishable from the real world, at least to us. It was the introduction of sound that set the standard of 24 frames per second with The Jazz Singer in 1927, the first film to have synchronized dialogue. The company

But as they say, beggars can't be choosers; I was a young father of two children with a third on the way, and I was already in debt due to my dream of being an independent filmmaker of small art films. George Lucas, my young protégé and cofounder of our struggling company, American Zoetrope, emphatically told me: 'You have to accept this job; we have no money and the sheriff is coming to chain up the front door.' And so I accepted the offer to direct The Godfsther, which surprisingly had been turned down by the best directors of the time, including Elia Kazan- probably the best director of acting in the entire history of cinema.

Healthy entertainment does not evoke raw emotions in the mind of a viewer only to make them wreak havoc, rather it guides those emotions in a healthy direction.

Healthy entertainment is a beautiful blend of stimuli that can connect with the viewer at a sentimental level, then sow the seeds of a certain idea or feed the mind with inspiration and courage. In short, healthy entertainment does not evoke raw emotions in the mind of a viewer only to make them wreak havoc, rather it guides those emotions in a healthy direction. This leads to not only an entertained viewer, but also an inspired soul. And that should be the purpose of film-making, and indeed the entire entertainment industry, rather than feeding the general population with garbage.

The secret is just to not give up hope. It’s very hard not to, because if you’re really doing something worthwhile I think you will be pushed to the brink of hopelessness before you come through the other side. And you just have to hang in through that.” ~ George Lucas

Director: Sripriya Producer: Rajkumar Sethupathy Screenplay: Aashiq Abu Story: Abhilash Kumar,Shyam Pushkaran Starring: Nithya Menen,Krish J. Sathaar,Naresh Music: Aravind-Shankar Cinematography: Manoj Pillai Editing: Bavan Sreekumar Studio: Rajkumar Theatres Pvt Ltd Sri Priya is back with her new venture titled ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ with actor Krish, son of Malayalam actors Sathar and Jayabharathi. Actor Krish was ready for the negative shades of ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’, remake of malayalam film ‘22 Female Kottayam’ when none were ready to play the role with adverse shades. To make a mark in 40th year of Sripriya's venture in Tamil industry, she has come up with a theme carrying crime against women and to reveal the social issues in present scenario through ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ Tamil movie. ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ Tamil film is directed by Sripriya. The revenge thriller movie is produced by Rajkumar Theatres Pvt.ltd. ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ movie casting Nithya Menon, Vidyulekha Raman, Krish J Sathaar and Kota Srinivasa Rao was initially set to release on 13 December, 2013 along with ‘Madha Yaanai Kootam’ and ‘Ivan Vera Mathiri’. However, due to several issues the films release was postponed. Producer Rajkumar Sethupathy’s ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ film is directed and written by his wife Sripriya. ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ Tamil movie has music composed by Aravind-Shankar. Confident producer Rajkumar Sethupathy who has complete faith on his wife Sripriya stated – “My wife has decades of experience in cinema and I myself have starred in several films. While I immersed myself in business, she has remained in touch with the industry taking a brief break to take care of our children. However, with the kids old enough to take care of themselves now, she has the time to get back to the other thing she loves: cinema. She’s already directed a couple of films, but this one is different because of the theme. She watched the original and she asked me to watch it too. I knew right away that if we were going to start our own home productions, this movie was the best way to begin.” Sripriya expressing her thoughts about the film said, ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ was the huff that she had bounded within herself. ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ portrays the exploitation against women and revenge from the gender. However, the revenge thriller flick ‘Malini 22 Palayamkottai’ is set to release on 24 January, 2014.

Director: Saravana Rajan Producer: Dayanidhi Azhagiri Written : Saravana Rajan Starring: Jai,Swati Reddy Music: Yuvan Shankar Raja Cinematography: Venkatesh S. Release Date: Jan 24, 2014 Editing: Praveen K. L, N. B. Srikanth Director Saravana Rajan’s debut comedy thriller ‘Vadacurry’ features actors Swati Reddy and Jai in lead role. ‘Vadacurry’ is produced by Dhayanidhi Alagiri with Yuvan Shankar Raja’s music. Bollywood actress Sunny Leone has shaken her legs for ‘Vadacurry’ Tamil film’s dream song with actor Jai in Bangkok. The shooting of the song was held in December 2013. It’s a dream sequence of Jai’s character in the ‘Vadacurry’ where, Sunny will be grooving with him. Sunny was given half-sari, bangles and anklets to portray a typical south Indian look in this song. However, the hot diva loved trying these accessories to shake her legs for her debut film in Kollywood ‘Vadacurry’. ‘Vadacurry’ Tamil movie’s cinematography is handled by Venkatesh. ‘Vadacurry’ team started rolling on floors from August 19, 2013. Interestingly, ‘Vadacurry’ Tamil movie’s music composer Yuvan Shankar Raja is cousin of director Saravana Rajan. Director Saravana Rajan has followed the steps of his tutor Venkat Prabhu in coining food names as title for his movie ‘Vadacurry’ that matched with Venkat Prabhu’s recent release ‘Biriyani’. The charming beauty Anusha Dhayanidhi has made a debut as costume designer in ‘Vadacurry’. Anusha Dhayanidhi has transformed the looks of female lead Swathi in ‘Vadacurry’ Tamil film. It should be noted that ‘Subramaniyapuram’ pairs, who had portrayed good chemistry have joined this comedy entertainer ‘Vadacurry’. However, ‘Vadacurry’ Tamil film is ready to be served on 24January, 2014 to give a punch of full-on comedy with its taste and essence.

Udhayanidhi Stalin, Nayantara, Chaya Singh, Santhanam latest Tamil movie Idhu Kathirvelan Kadhal - Movie Review, Movie Rating, Movie News, Cast and Crew Details and much more @ iluvcinema.in Movie Name : Idhu Kathirvelan Kadhal Director : S.R.Prabhakaran Producer : Udhayanidhi Stalin Music Director : Harris Jayaraj Cast & Crew : Udhayanidhi Stalin, Nayantara, Chaya Singh, Santhanam

They are underrepresented as directors of state companies and in administrative positions. • Except for the music and sport sectors and the armed forces, they rarely assume leadership positions of national and international projection. • The presence of blacks and mulattos in mass media is still feeble, especially in television and cinema. • According to statistics, black and racially mixed people occupy labor and social positions that do not correspond with the educational levels that they have attained.

In cinema the director has to breathe life into the actor, not make of him a mouthpiece for his own ideas.

চলো ছায়ার পানে, চলো ছবি ও গানে!

The job of the film director is to tell the story through the juxtaposition of uninflected images—because that is the essential nature of the medium.

HEROPANTI MOVIE REVIEW & RATING Movie Name: Heropanti Director: Sabbir Khan Producer: Sajid Nadiadwala Music Director: Sajid-Wajid, Manj Musik Cast: Tiger Shroff, Kirti Sanon, Sandeepa Dhar ‘Heropanti’, a love story is directed by Sabbir Khan and produced by Sajid Nadiadwala. It is the debut movie of Tiger Shroff (son of superstar Jackie Shroff) and Kirti Sanon, both starring in lead roles alongside Sandeepa Dhar featuring in a pivotal role. Overall it is a remake of Telugu movie ‘Parugu’ starring Allu Arjun. ‘Heropanti’ is all about another new gem in Bollywood industry. Big launch with hit songs. New faces- heroine as well as hero. Does it work? Let’s go through to know it… ‘Heropanti’ borrows half of its title from Sr. Shroff’s breakout film and is also having the signature tune from ‘Hero’ (1983) which is being played in the background repeatedly. The action movie is not as terrible as Salman and Akshay films. The newcomer Tiger Shroff has done amazing stunts in the film. The story is set in the land of Jattland in Harayana where Chaudhary (Prakash Raj), the Haryanvi goon is completely against love marriages. He has two daughters- Renu (Sandeepa Dhar) and Dimpi (Kirti Sanon). Chaudharyji’s elder daughter Renu’s marriage is held, but on the wedding night she elopes with her boyfriend Rakesh. Her step results in a frantic search for her across the village. Chaudharyji launches a manhunt to track them down and eliminate them. Now Haryanvi goon’s men suspects Rakesh’s friends and thinks that they may know where Renu is. So the goon decides to kidnap the buddies of his daughter’s lover. Bablu (Tiger Shroff) turns to be one of the buddies with ultra muscular head and shoulders model who falls in love with Chaudharyji’s younger daughter Dimpy (Kirti Sanon). The goons manage to trace Bablu who has actually helped Rakesh and Renu in escaping. Bablu, meanwhile in captivity, shares with his pals about his love interest. Bablu falls in love at first sight with the pretty younger daughter of Chaudharyji’s, Dimpy. He comes to know quite early that it is none other than the Harynavi goon Chaudharyji’s daughter. The movie tries to end up in a ‘Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge’ style where Bablu uses his superpowers and figures out to be with his love but without offending her father. launch pad for Shroff to show his acting and dancing skills. Plan to watch it, if nothing left to do. Tiger Shoff is a great action hero. When it comes to action, he is a star but comparatively his acting skills are zero. Kirti Sanon requires a little brushing up on her acting skills she reminds us somewhere of young Deepika Padukone who is surely going to have a good run in the industry someday. Verdict: It’s the most masala-less movie of this year with more action and less drama. But the movie is a perfect

Certain directors and actors were constantly preoccupied by one problem, and apparently, one only. This was connected with the so-called German greeting, which was the method of hailing a friend by raising the right arm straight out with the hand extended at, or slightly above, the level of the shoulder. This greeting had very definite political implications; it was employed daily by millions; and the directors and actors saw no reason why it should not be one on the films in a simple and life-like fashion. They failed. Even when shown in the rushes the effect on the select and professional audience was simply to produce uncontrollable hilarity. The cinema can do a great deal. It can entrance, t can tell fairy tales, it can be realistic or surrealistic -- but it cannot portray a gesture that is false without underlining the most brutal way its basic falseness. The German cinema could not reproduce the German greeting; it was the greeting that was to blame, not the cinema.

The art of filmmaking is the most influential form of art that has ever existed throughout the history of human artistic endeavors.

A movie is not a movie, it is a potential nuclear furnace of inspiration, courage and conscience.

Make movies my friend – make nice, inspiring and bold movies that will penetrate the darkest corners of the human mind and illuminate the soul.

I have no problem with film music. I do not take it upon myself to judge what sort of music one should have–whether symphonic, electronic, twelve-tone, or whether music has altogether gone out of fashion in the cinema. I really don’t know the answer. I have not given it any thought. Shostakovich’s music is another matter. There is no point in my thinking about it. I would not be able to make a Shakespearean film without it just as I would not be able to do without Pasternak’s translation. What do I think is the main point about it–the feeling of tragedy? This is an important quality. But not just tragedy…philosophy, and a general concept of the whole world? Yes of course, how could you have Lear without philosophy?…But all the same it is another feature which is most important. A quality about which it is difficult to write. Goodness. Kindness. Mercy. However, it is a special kind of goodness. Russian has an excellent word–‘lyuty’–or, fierce. In Russian art, goodness does not exist without a fierce hatred of everything which destroys a man. In Shostakovich’s music I can hear a ferocious hatred of cruelty, the cult of power and the oppression of justice. This is a special goodness: a fearless goodness which has a threatening quality.

Mani Ratnam is by no stretch of the imagination an expressive person. He does not show much emotion, except in his stories. But that does not mean he doesn’t feel it in real life. ‘I was stunned that day,’ he says, some twenty-five years later. ‘I could not believe what I was hearing. The music he played for me that day, it was fabulous.’ AR thought, at the time, that Mani Ratnam hated his music. ‘I didn’t think he would ever come back,’ he says.2 But a few days later, the director got in touch with AR and told him that he’d like to sign him on for his next film—as music director. ‘I love a lot of stuff,’ he said. ‘Let’s meet and I’ll tell you what will work for me.’3 It was a decision that would end up altering the course of AR’s life, as well as Tamil, Indian and world music and cinema.

Nothing happens in Ladri di Biciclette that might just as well not have happened. The worker could have chanced upon his bicycle in the middle of the film, the lights in the auditorium would have gone up and De Sica would have apologized for having disturbed us, but after all, we would be happy for the worker’s sake. The marvelous aesthetic paradox of this film is that it has the relentless quality of tragedy while nothing happens in it except by chance. But it is precisely from the dialectical synthesis of contrary values, namely artistic order and the amorphous disorder of reality, that it derives its originality. There is not one image that is not charged with meaning, that does not drive home into the mind the sharp end of an unforgettable moral truth, and not one that to this end is false to the ontological ambiguity of reality. Not one gesture, not one incident, not a single object in the film is given a prior significance derived from the ideology of the director.

The most important part of making a film is the script. It's not the actual shooting the film. The technicians know their jobs, the cameraman knows his job, the director knows his job. It's what he is going to shoot, and whether or not a company is successful depends on what they choose to shoot, and that's all there is to it.

Manzarek and Jim Morrison were film students at UCLA when they met. They both had an abiding interest in film and the past masters as well as creating a new cinema. Through The Doors they did create cinema. At first, one strictly of The Doors, but as their influence and legend spread through culture they, in turn, inspired those that were creating movies.   The Doors Film Feast of Friends Late in March 1968 (the exact date is unknown) The Doors decided to film a documentary of their forthcoming tour. The idea may have come about because Bobby Neuwirth, who was hired to hang out with Jim and try to direct his energies to more productive pursuits than drinking, produced a film Not to Touch the Earth that utilized behind the scenes film of The Doors. The band set up an initial budget of $20,000 for the project. Former UCLA film students Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek hired film school friends Paul Ferrara as director of photography, Frank Lisciandro as editor, and Morrison friend Babe Hill as the sound recorder.

The growing interest in medieval-period reconstruction is vividly legible in the music, cinema listings and television schedules of the late 1960s and early 70s. Besides the BBC Tudor series mentioned earlier – which led to a spin-off cinema version, Henry VIII and his Six Wives, in 1972 – there was Anne of the Thousand Days (1969), centred on Henry’s first wife Anne Boleyn, starring Richard Burton and Geneviève Bujold; the Thomas More biopic A Man for All Seasons (1966); Peter O’Toole as Henry II in Anthony Harvey’s The Lion in Winter (1968); David Hemmings as Alfred the Great (1969); the hysterical convent of Russell’s The Devils (1971); and future singer Murray Head in a melodramatic retelling of Gawain and the Green Knight (1973). In the same period HTV West made a series of often repeated mud-and-guts episodes of Arthur of the Britons (1972–3), and visionary Italian director Pier Paolo Pasolini unveiled his earthy adapations of the Decameron (1970) and The Canterbury Tales (1971). From the time of the English Civil War, Ken Hughes cast Richard Harris in his erratic portrait of Cromwell (1970); and the twenty-three-year-old doomed genius Michael Reeves made his Witchfinder General in 1968, in which the East Anglian farmland becomes a transfigured backdrop to a tale of superstition and violent religious persecution in 1645. Period reconstruction, whether in film, television or music, has been a staple of British culture, innate to a mindset that always finds its identity in the grain of the past.