Image of the day, 12/12/08, and apology for light posting
Harry Carey and Elmer Booth, The Musketeers of Pig Alley, directed by D.W. Griffith, shot by G.W. "Billy" Bitzer, 1912
The above image never ceases to startle me. I mean, just look at it. And of course it also works like mad in its context, the thrilling D.W. Griffith Biograph short that's often cited as the very first gangster picture.
But this shot. WIth its sliced-off face. The negative space. The attitude. It could have come out of Breathless. Which, of course, is entirely the point. Of Breathless. And a whole lot of other things. In a sense, that is. And to think this picture is almost 100 years old. Of course, Marcel Duchamp's Fountain is almost 100 years old as well, and it's still, um, pissing people off.
About the light posting: Been rather busy. Tending to the exigencies of making a living—said living, as many of you might have inferred by now, not being made in film criticism—and such. Some writing projects, too: an essay on White Light/White Heat for a forthcoming coffee-table book on The Velvet Underground—yes, yes, I too, chuckle at the irony...although it's an irony that dissipates upon close examination—and a remembrance of David Foster Wallace for The Sonora Review. Also compiling and weighing choices for the inevitable best-of-year surveys I may be contributing to. And also, I've been picking a fight with Scott Foundas. Okay, actually, I'm probably gonna not pursue that last thing too much because, you know, what's the point, and also because My Lovely Wife doesn't much cotton to my picking fights (although she didn't mind my swipe at a certain strain of derrierism last week).