Word: cinema
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...disposed of right away. Auteurist orthodoxy is so much a part of the serious movie-goer's mental baggage that the idea of a good film being produced by an awful director seems a contradiction in terms. And Allen has compounded the problem by acting like some Cahiers du Cinema reader's idea of a Big Bad Hollywood Producer. Allen told the august Arts and Leisure Section of the New York Times that he made The Towering Inferno for the money and nothing else and threatened us with 19 follow-ups, a string of Sons of Towering Inferno...
...original Alexander Throttlebottom in Of Thee I Sing) when he made this movie and his appeal is immediately self-evident. The next night at the Welles, if you're not dehydrated, you can find Wuthering Heights. I took a course last year on the Novel and the Cinema, one of those hybrid classes which inevitably slights both sets of contributing genes--all three of the heavies teaching the course hated the movie, and if you're a Bronte purist you will too. But of all the romances to hit this festival, this movie by a long shot is the best...
...loud, silly disaster (one may remember John Bookman's Zardoz) by a minor (the microscope please) talent gives itself out to months of laughter and derisions simply on the basis of its dopiness. But a major director's failure demands hatchets around the table by the protectors of the cinema...
...were a levied quota of movies which one could froth happily at the mouth about (punishment for exceeding quota: a month at Judith Crist's movie camp with continuous showings of At Long Last Love) M. would be a picture to stand by. Fritz Lang's direction turns the cinema into images which fuse with one's own societal paranoia. There are a whole list of things which you may never do again after seeing M and a few of them are: whistle the Peer Gynt Suite, allow a kid to walk to school without an armed guard...
...Zhivago. Now we're back to the Russian Revolution again. If this mammoth, loud, soppy dinosaur was shrunk down to its value as cinema (not cinerama) it would fit in Eisenstein's left nostril, who would no doubt, blow it out as quickly as he could...