Festival is a documentary in the truest sense of the word: a document of a something that once existed. It’s an artifact of a moment in time when Peter, Paul & Mary, Pete Seeger, and Donavan where thought more entertaining and worthy of screen minutes than Son House, John Lee Hurt, the Georgia Sea Island Singers, and Hobart Smith.
I was genuinely moved by this love letter to the analog, though I feel wrong expressing my thoughts using on a laptop. It’s like producing a CGI tribute to a famous stuntman. This enchanting documentary kindled a determination to track down a Hermes 2000 or Smith-Corona Silent, commission personalized letterpress stationary on hearty rag cotton, and make a habit of sending typewritten notes to those I care about or who have shown me kindness or service. Not to be a…
About 40 minutes into Psycho, Norman removes a print hanging on his wall of “Susannah and the Elders,” a story from the Book of Daniel of two men spying on a naked bathing woman. Norman then spies through a peephole at Marion undressing to bathe. There’s an extreme close-up of his eye in the darkness lit by a beam of light from the peephole. Here we have the ultimate metaphor for moviegoing, the audience-as-voyeur, sitting in the dark spying on…
“When you can assume that your audience holds the same beliefs you do, you can relax and use more normal means of talking to it; when you have to assume that it does not, then you have to make your vision apparent by shock -- to the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures.”
― Flannery O'Connor
Spike Lee’s fine genre pictures (25th Hour, Inside Man) are masterclasses in finesse and unsurpassed…