Columbia Movie Quotes

Over the decade that movie producer Menahem Golan had retained the rights for Spider-Man, he’d managed to involve half a dozen different corporate entities. Golan had originally bought the Spider-Man rights for his Cannon Films; after leaving Cannon, he transferred them to 21st Century Films. Next, he raised money by preselling television rights to Viacom, and home video rights to Columbia Tri-Star; then he signed a $5 million deal with Carolco that guaranteed his role as producer. But after Carolco assigned the film to James Cameron, Cameron refused to give Golan the producer credit, and the lawsuits began. By the end of 1994, Carolco was suing Viacom and Tri-Star; Viacom and Tri-Star were countersuing Carolco, 21st Century, and Marvel; and MGM—which had swallowed Cannon—was suing Viacom, Tri-Star, 21st Century, and Marvel.

Given the FEC’s previous refusal to grant Citizens United a media exception to disseminate its John Kerry movie, there was a high probability that Hillary: The Movie would meet a similar fate in 2008. Citizens United probably knew that the FEC was likely to claim that considering its exclusively negative tone and laser-like focus on Senator Clinton, Hillary: The Movie amounted to a 90-minute campaign commercial well within the BCRA definitions of “electioneering,” and as such could neither be aired on broadcast outlets nor advertised over the airways within the applicable time limits. This presented an obvious marketing challenge. Were it limited to only movie theater screenings and online DVD sales, the film’s audience would be considerably narrower than intended. Citizens United surely realized that the only way to proceed with its plans to market political documentaries was to change the rules of the game. In December 2007, Citizens United brought suit against the FEC in the United States District Court for the District of Columbia. The purpose of the suit was to secure an injunction prohibiting the FEC from enforcing the electioneering provisions of the BCRA with regard to Hillary: The Movie. To that end, Citizens United made a First Amendment challenge, claiming that the BRCA’s bans on electioneering communications amounted to an unconstitutional infringement on its members’ freedom of speech. Moreover, the group alleged that because in its view its electioneering activities could not be banned, the disclosure requirements of the BCRA were also unconstitutional. First Amendment speech protections have long clashed with the restrictions imposed by campaign finance regulations. The general conflict in American campaign finance case law is that restrictions on contribution and/or spending are viewed by some as unreasonable restrictions on political speech, which has traditionally garnered significant protection (for an excellent summary, see: La Raja 2008, Ch. 3).

Take just one well-known event: The Beatles' 1964 appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show. This has been depicted with astonishing regularity as a pivotal cultural moment; in fact an entire movie -- I Wanna Hold Your Hand -- was built around it. And that Sullivan episode was indeed a major event in popular culture. But did you know that in 1961, 26 million people watched a CBS live broadcast of the first performance of a new symphony by classical composer Aaron Copland? Moreover, with all the attention that sixties rock groups receive, it may come as a surprise to learn that My Fair Lady was Columbia Records' biggest-selling album before the 1970s, beating out those of sixties icons Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin and The Byrds.

Saul took a deep breath. He had lectured at Columbia and other universities on the peculiar and perverse strain of modern violence in such books and movies as The Exorcist, The Omen, and innumerable imitations, going back to Rosemary’s Baby. Saul had seen the rash of demonic-children entertainments as a symptom of deeper underlying fears and hatreds; the “me-generation’s” inability to shift into the role of responsible parenthood at the cost of losing their own interminable childhood, the transference of guilt from divorce—the child is not really a child, but an older, evil thing, capable of deserving any abuse resulting from the adult’s selfish actions—and the anger of an entire society revolting after two decades of a culture dominated by and devoted to youthful looks, youth-oriented music, juvenile movies, and the television and movie myth of the adult-child inevitably wiser, calmer, and more “with-it” than the childish adults in the house hold. So Saul had lectured that the child-fear and child-hatred becoming visible in popular shows and books had its irrational roots in common guilts, shared anxieties, and the universal angst of the age. He had warned that the national wave of abuse, neglect, and callousness toward children had its historical antecedents and that it would run its course, but that everything possible must be done to avoid and eliminate that brand of violence before it poisoned America.

for Dunaway, constantly kneeling or sprawling to take photographs, her legs, especially her thighs, are far more important to her performance than her eyes; her flesh gives off heat. Tommy Lee Jones is the police lieutenant who represents old-fashioned morality, and when the neurotically vulnerable Laura, who has become telepathic about violence, falls in love with him, they’re a very creepy pair. With the help of the editor, Michael Kahn, Kershner glides over the gaps in the very uneven script (by John Carpenter and David Z. Goodman, with an assist from Julian Barry). The cast includes Raul Julia, Rose Gregorio, Meg Mundy, and Bill Boggs (as himself). Columbia. color (See When the Lights Go Down.)

If Columbia Pictures had not succumbed to Richard’s demands, and if I were a cocky, son-of-a-bitch movie star, and if Sidney Poitier had not held in his rage, there would have been no Stir Crazy. For the sake of my psychological health, I should have let out my anger at the time that I was angry. From the point of view of getting the picture made—I’m glad I didn’t. The picture was a great success.

Another Terry film was Paid to Dance (1937), an exposé of a dance-hall racket of the type beloved by low-budget scenarists. The feminine lead was Jacqueline Wells, later Julie Bishop; third in the credits was Rita Hayworth, as yet just a starlet, but getting plenty of screen time with her steady appearances in Columbia pictures. Miss Hayworth, nee Cansino, had become an adequate actress along the way. Her Latin good looks enabled her to play villainesses if need be, or the ingénue.

But film sometimes flinches at the expertise of actresses, and the sympathetic viewer may come to realize that there was a mute honesty in Novak: she did not conceal the fact that she had been drawn into a world capable of exploiting her. Filming seemed an ordeal for her; it was as if the camera hurt her. But while many hostile to the movies rose in defense of the devastation of Marilyn Monroe—whether or not she was a sentient victim—Novak was stoical, obdurate, or sullen. She allowed very few barriers between that raw self and the audience and now looks dignified, reflective, and responsive to feeling where Monroe appears haphazard and oblivious. Novak is the epitome of every small-town waitress or beauty contest winner who thought of being in the movies. Despite a thorough attempt by Columbia to glamorize her, she never lost the desperate attentiveness of someone out of her depth but refusing to give in. Her performances improve with time so that ordinary films come to center on her; even Vertigo, Hitchcock’s masterpiece, owes some of its power to Novak’s harrowing suspension between tranquility and anxiety.