Homage or remake, Hateful Eight has grandmaster Tarantino in a reductionist frame of mind, somewhere between Sleuth and Deathtrap rather than the film he's consciously trying to ape (also another film set in 70mm on release), John Carpenter's The Thing. The plot is mercenary whodunit, the patron saint of the spoiler, that fumes into projectile bloodbath. Framed in the insanity of Ultra Panavision (the only anamorphic boost of widescreen), this dark chamber pot has all the pieces but not the connectionist constructions Tarantino used to be known for. Despite the airtight plan for the takeover of Minnie's, visually built out of brilliant touches like the door missing its latch, the candle Tim Roth's Oswaldo Mobray lights to set the stage, plot leaks sprout up everywhere. Maybe we'd excuse Major Warren's late remembrance of Minnie's anti-Mexican maxim that sets off the whole explosive ending, but impossible to ignore is the Daisy Domergue backstory hide-and-seek that's played with the audience. It's meant to be a sleight of hand rendered real by sexism in an overarching framework of racial fear, but we're in 2016. We know women can be dangerous, and anyone with a 10K beheading fee takeaway has got to be a little dangerous. We're supposed to believe two hard-nosed bounty hunters let their guards down long enough to miss clues that lead to their demise. Hiding her and her gang's history from us amidst all the bullshitting that's going on is a poor play for interference. And that's how the film tailspins. We're conscious to the mechanical distraction once the big reveal happens, we can tell the magician is working too hard to call our attention away from the lady in question just to hide the Domergue Gang's history. Sure it's got the misidentified villain, the only death before the intermission curtain is the one 'innocent': the sole survivor of the slaughter at Minnie's (a fair distraction from the real danger). But that's just like the 'ignoring miss Daisy' routine we've been spoonfed, just like all the lies and deceptions these boys practice. Lincoln-penned letters, hangman milleu, diaries of a cowpoke, etc. all are bags of tricks we've become accustomed to. Props for a play within a filmed play. Compare it to the razor-edge fears of The Thing, where anyone can be anything, and the reveal of Blair as infected let's us backdate his clues as coming not from a human, but from an alien planting effective tools to tear apart the remaining humans: his diary, his warning about Clarke, his booze-soaked destruction of the base's radio; even his 'post-mortem' lecture about the remains keep us confused as to who is and who isn't. We need another point of ruse from Tarantino, not this same old/same old. A pity this chance for an optical high point was abused for filming a 3 hour Playhouse 90 remake of the far more cinematic Resevoir Dogs. Note to Robert Richardson: please stop beaming miraculous skylight onto tables because you're too lazy to create realistic fill.
Goodbyes to the Ziegfeld, the east coast's great cultural beacon of cinematic language, 1969-2016. From the G-rated/1975 pot scent filtering from the loge's smoking section (yes, there used to be smoking sections in movies) during semi-perennial re-release Fantasia, to the might-have-been closing film Hateful Eight (a fitting end: taken over by Disney's Force Awakens), this post-roadshow movie palace transported moviegoers to the best alternate realities: Close Encounters, Cabaret, Barry Lyndon, Apocalypse Now, Inglorious Basterds, Episodes I-III all premiered here. Raiders, Episodes IV-VI Sp. Ed., Vertigo, Lawrence of Arabia, 2001, Blade Runner, even Jaws and On Her Majesty's Secret Service all revived here for brief moments. All in a 60's faux 1920's gilded box covered in red velvet. Anyone needing a largescale optical fix will have to visit their local Imax.
The sit-com seems to descend from this key screwball comedy, a comedy of errors and manners, with switched identities and classes, with a chorus of domestics who provide the narrative mortar. Writer-on-a-fishing trip Aherne shows up looking for a phone to use and is lured into becoming the chauffeur for a daffy, wealthy family who happens to have a senator arriving for dinner. Hal Roach, whose early Our-Gang series provided filler for TV's early open scehdule, delivers a powerhouse comedy to MGM, leading to laughs, box-office and Academy Awards nominations.
Twitter's best attribute is its 'newsgroupthink,' which lets the user DJ as many services as possible, unearthing what would be highly stable research individually, and combining it with other sources, even fields. These two articles below both deal with differing ideas of Norse mythology and statistics. One is from a past, histories that actually unfolded (like the Illiad) and was then encrypted into mythology. A recent statistical study deciphered these ancient myth's social structure of its characters and found them to be realistic. The research suggests the myth evolved from real events and real participants whose tales were structured into posterity and have lasted time until now.
The other is from a highly technological present, the on-line game EVE, which was designed by Icelanders and offers a tabla rasa galaxy as a playing realm where users create their own saga against the vastness of space. Statistics are evidenced at every level of EVE and help users to become leaders and warriors of any number of types and qualities. Mythic events take shape as players evolve the game beyond the basic rules of diplomacy and subterfuge is employed. Both articles have numerous crossovers.
Viking sagas decrypted through stats: http://nautil.us/blog/vikingstheyre-just-like-us-social-networks-in-norse-sagas?
Stats help build online game Eve: http://www.polygon.com/features/2014/2/24/5419788/eve-online-thrilling-boring
If this translation is accurate, then we're witnessing the evolving of children's minds.
Anomaly may become a plurality.
What will adults do when children form political parties?
How fast will the rules change?
Children will join adults at the table, their revolution is coming.
The internet saw to that.
There are no completely paved roads to or in Lajamanu; in the rainy season, December to May, it can be hard or impossible to travel.. An airplane, one of seven owned by Lajamanu Air, a community-managed airline, lands on the village’s dirt airstrip twice a week carrying mail from Katherine, and once a week a truck brings food and supplies sold in the village’s only store. A diesel generator and asolar energy plant supply electricity. The development of the language was a two-step process. It began with parents using baby talk with their children in a combination of the three languages. But then the children took that language as their native tongue by adding radical innovations to the syntax, especially the use of verb structures, that are not present in any of the source languages.