This blog is dedicated to a precursor of the French New Wave movement. It's a little diddy called Bob le Flambeur, or "Bob the Gambler". It's a CLASSIC. I insist you all pick this movie up, pop it into the DVD player and settle into your favorite movie viewing position. Prepare yourself for one of the most influential crime/heist/noir films ever made!
This film was, single-handedly, the main influence in Paul Thomas Anderson's Hard Eight. The influence is plainly evident in some major instances: the young man idolizing Bob, the whore of a girl that the young man loves, the bad gangster trying to steal away the young kid and other details that P.T.A. was compelled to derive inspiration from. He didn't lift direct scenes or anything, so don't go a cryin' THIEF! ye foul thing. But you'll see a lot of similar cinematographic techniques: iris, camera whips, constantly moving camera and things like that. It really adds to the beauty of this moving, and for being made in the last 50's, it really holds up to today's standards. This was the film that inspired Truffuat and Godard, as well as today's version of Truffuat and Godard: Paul Thomas Anderson and Quentin Tarantino.
I'm glad I was able to find this (note: at the library) as I'm not going to purchase it on Half.com for $16 bucks. A fair deal, if I don't say so myself, for it is a Criterion release; something that gets movie geeks moist in the mouth. This film is going to be my inspiration for finishing the abandoned Noir film I was working on since my last blog post. I've been abandoning scripts, and starting new ones, for way too long a time. I just need to go back to the old scripts and nurse them to the powerful cinematic time-testers that I know they have the potential to be, if I'd spend the proper amount of time, care and heart on them. My scripts are like a phoenix, I suppose. They'll come around, when I get my head off of other shit and back into the wonderful world of storytelling.
In other news: I found some potentially awesome reads at the local Buy N Sell bookstore, which added a fanciful coffeeshop, btw, so I can now stalk some intelligent prey over a cup of iced caramel machiatto. I sometimes leave my "screenplay writing for dummies" book out, in front of my notepad, so girls will think I'm uber hip and totally down to party. (note: it never works - don't try it at your local coffee hangout) Anyways, the books I found were:
Crime and Punishment ~ Fyodor Dostoevsky The Portable James Joyce ~ "someone" The Odyssey ~ Homer The Doctor & the Soul ~ Viktor Frankl Pyscopathology of Everyday Life ~ Ol' Sigmund Freud The Collective Works of Plato ~ "someone"
Looks like I've got some readin ta dooooo. And damn, am I ever excited about it. Going to the bookstore never, ever, ever gets old. It's almost as good as going to Goodwill. Speaking of which, I've found the most incredible winter coat in all of humankind. I don't have a pic yet, but I soon will and you'll all want my exuberant warmth when you see this thing. It's a plaid trenchcoat, made by London Fog, circa 1973. It is THE motherfucking shit. You know I mean it when I curse like that. Lined with faux fur and wool, this jacket represents all that is manly in the life of mere mortals. It exudes confidence, class and says "hey, I'm approachable, but you better damn well bring your A game, sister, or you'll be reduced to rubbish by my gusto!" I really couldn't ask for a better ladykiller jacket.
As Mr. Cruise says, in Magnolia: "Respect the cock, tame the cunt!"