A few months back, I got word that my friend – and in some ways mentor and inspiration – the filmmaker C.S. Leigh – passed away in 2016. For Christian to be out of touch for long periods of time was not unusual (he always protested against suggestions that he had once “vanished” by saying that this was merely ex-directory before mobile technology became commonplace) but when I emailed him letting him know I’d been to the Seoul MMCA’s Jonas Mekas exhibition and complementary sprawling retrospective, and didn’t hear back, I felt a pang of worry. Christian hated talking about himself and his work (at least to me), but he loved to talk about films. Continue reading
A Theraflu addled episode; scorn poured on the notion of an Anglia of the mind; Romanian and French listeners saluted; a film-centric discussion of John le Carre; The Russia House; Connery and Pfieffer’s performances evaluated; dubious Connery impersonations; some mutterings about Highlander; the next episode’s film is chosen.
Hosts: J. Riley, J. Cosgrove
Music: Theme from Timm Thaler by Christian Bruhn
Coming soon: The Scientific Anglian podcast. An irreverent take on cult films of all kinds featuring John A. Riley and co-host Joe Cosgrove.
Like my fascination with folk horror, I can trace my interest in Terence Fisher to my early teens, when I stayed up late to watch a TV screening of Curse of the Werewolf. Hoping for something lurid and fast-paced, I both did and didn’t get what I bargained for, as a slow-burning film – that seemed less a horror and more a sadistic tragedy – unfolded. Continue reading
Folk horror is like obscenity in Potter Stewart’s famous definition: you know it when you see it. Characterised by eerie rural landscapes, malevolent forces that work through ancient objects unearthed by hapless farmhands, and bloodthirsty cults that flourish in secret behind a peculiarly British veneer of village green propriety. Closely associated with the 60s and 70s, it’s the sort of stuff that was a mainstay of late-night television during my adolescence. Does folk horror then refer to a style of horror past – to once-chilling fireside ghost stories that are now occasionally disinterred for a nostalgia rush or for camp value? Continue reading
NB. This is a cannibalised, barely-recognisable version of an article originally written in 2010 for a now-offline website. The original article holds the rare distinction of being a piece I was actually paid to write.
To the long-suffering near-masochists known as Zappa fans, the unmistakeable work of Bruce Bickford is a familiar sight. Easily the best thing about Baby Snakes, his fascinating animated sequences mitigate against the longeurs of Roy Estrada and that doll. But Bickford has had a long career independently of Zappa’s patronage, and is perhaps the only outsider artist to work in the medium of animation. A personal appearance at London’s Horse Hospital in 2010 – along with a screening of the documentary portrait Monster Road and of his film Cas’l – still seemingly a work in progress at that time – offered a chance to find out more. Continue reading
NB. This piece was written in 2010 for a project that never quite got off the ground due to a convergence of unhappy circumstances. However, meeting and talking with the instigators of said project was a happy occasion. What you’re about to read was written immediately after Panahi was sentenced. It is presented here with minimal tinkering, and consequently doesn’t deal with his more recent films. A planned companion piece about Mohammed Rasoulouf’s work never materialised.
Jafar Panahi and Mohammed Rasoulof’s prison sentences and creative silencing will no doubt be a source of little surprise to those familiar with Iran’s present regime. Nor will it shock those old enough to remember past, perhaps analogous situations, such as the repeated attempts by the Soviet authorities to imprison and silence Sergei Paradzhanov. Cinema’s ability to tie wide-ranging social, psychological and – ultimately – human abstractions into tightly bound knots, and the medium’s capacity to be widely distributed and easily understood, has rarely gone unnoticed by bureaucrats, theocrats and other authoritarians. Continue reading
NB. The Open City Documentary Festival is having a special focus on the documentary maker Vitaly Mansky. It fell to The Scientific Anglian to write programme notes for two of the screenings. Patria O Muerte screens at the Regent Street Cinema in London on Sunday, 10th September at 2:00 pm. For tickets go here.
As the critic Guiliano Vivaldi has claimed of Vitaly Mansky’s work: “Form is less important than content for Mansky as he attempts to capture the spirit of a time and place.” Perhaps the opening of Patria O Muerte – a montage of young women shimmying enthusiastically – is therefore an attempt to capture the youthful spirit of modern Cuba. Or perhaps the intention is to establish Cuba as a place of contrasts – the sheer vivacity of the dancers contrasts with the next sequence: unsettling yet quotidian scenes of graves being exhumed due to lack of space. Finally, the opening scenes work to posit a clash of generations. Preparing for the film, Mansky noted that the generation that came to fruition with the Cuban revolution was now beginning to die off, and another inchoate generation was preparing to take its place. Continue reading
NB. The Open City Documentary Festival is having a special focus on the documentary maker Vitaly Mansky. It fell to The Scientific Anglian to write programme notes for two of the screenings. Broadway, The Black Sea screens at the Regent Street Cinema in London on Friday, 8th September at 8:15 pm. For tickets go here.
“Carnival is a pageant without footlights and without a division into performers and spectators” said Mikhail Bakhtin. The Russian philosopher had in mind not only a literary genre, but a whole way of approaching the world; non-hierarchical, egalitarian, but unruly. Vitaly Mansky’s Broadway, The Black Sea would embody Bakhtin’s ideas about carnival perfectly were it not for us, the audience, safely seated in the comfort of the Regent Street Cinema. Otherwise, it valorises carnival as powerful creative and communal event, rather than mere licentious spectacle. Continue reading
Flames, the first album by singer-songwriter Emily Daniels, combines an unabashed pop sensibility with direct, emotional lyrics, and does so with an assurance that belies the fact that this is a debut recording. The 18 songs collected here catch like wildfire but their deeper lyrical meanings are revealed only upon repeat listening. Continue reading