From 1974, Terry Gilliam explains the art and craft of creating his signature animations.
Filmmakers on Filmmakers: Paul Thomas Anderson on Max Ophuls’s mastery of the tracking shot, and The Earrings of Madame de….
Orson Welles: “What made it possible for me to make the picture is that I’ve had recurring nightmares of guilt all my life: I’m in prison and I don’t know why –- going to be tried and I don’t know why.
“It’s very personal for me. A very personal expression, and it’s not all true that I’m off in some foreign world that has no application to myself; it’s the most autobiographical movie that I’ve ever made, the only one that’s really close to me.
“And just because it doesn’t speak in a Middle Western accent doesn’t mean a damn thing. It’s much closer to my own feelings about everything than any other picture I’ve ever made.”
NARRATOR (at opening of film):
Before the law, there stands a guard.
A man comes from the country, begging admittance to the law.
But the guard cannot admit him.
May he hope to enter at a later time? That is possible, said the guard. The man tries to peer through the entrance.
He’d been taught that the law was to be accessible to every man.
“Do not attempt to enter without my permission”, says the guard. I am very powerful. Yet I am the least of all the guards. From hall to hall, door after door, each guard is more powerful than the last.”
By the guard’s permission, the man sits by the side of the door, and there he waits. For years, he waits.
Everything he has, he gives away in the hope of bribing the guard, who never fails to say to him “I take what you give me only so that you will not feel that you left something undone.”
Keeping his watch during the long years, the man has come to know even the fleas on the guard’s fur collar. Growing childish in old age, he begs the fleas to persuade the guard to change his mind and allow him to enter.
His sight has dimmed, but in the darkness he perceives a radiance streaming immortally from the door of the law.
And now, before he dies, all he’s experienced condenses into one question, a question he’s never asked. He beckons the guard. Says the guard, “You are insatiable! What is it now?” Says the man, “Every man strives to attain the law. How is it then that in all these years, no one else has ever come here, seeking admittance?”
His hearing has failed, so the guard yells into his ear. “Nobody else but you could ever have obtained admittance. No one else could enter this door!
This door was intended only for you! And now, I’m going to close it.”
This tale is told during the story called “The Trial”. It’s been said that the logic of this story is the logic of a dream… a nightmare.
As the stunning Kubrick exhibition prepares to depart Los Angeles, here is a quick tour (with some additional photos). Think of this as a prelude to a future perambulation through the Kubrickian maze….
“Essentially the film is a mythological statement. Its meaning has to be found on a sort of visceral, psychological level, rather than in a specific, literal explanation.” — Stanley Kubrick.
From Kubrick’s photos of New York life in the 1940s in Look magazine:
(More photos from Bert Stern’s legendary shoot can be found here).
One possible future of Man —
or another —
“My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But oh, my foes, and ah, my friends —
It gives a lovely light.”
What critic Michael Ciment calls “the return of the repressed”, a strand of behaviour that weaves throughout Kubrick’s work, becoming a murderous psychosis signalled by a telltale look:
Private Pyle (Full Metal Jacket):
In flagrante delecto — Masques of the Red Death….
Masks of marriage…..
“Who’s been sleeping in my bed…..?”
In the room the people come and go….
Talking of Michelangelo….