The geniuses over at 4chan have pointed out that turned on its side, the ESPN logo looks like Master Chief taking a shit.
Add this to the list of things that can’t be unseen, including the arrow in the FedEx logo, the bear in the Toblerone logo and Lisa Simpson Giving a Blowjob in the London 2012 logo.
Carl Sagan, astrophysicist and all-round nice guy once joked that ‘if you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.’ For his new film, The Tree of Life, Malick takes his traditional non-linear storytelling style to its illogical conclusion: If you wish to tell the ultimate non-linear story of a child growing up in the 1950s and his progression into adulthood, then you must first show the creation of the universe and the emergence of life on earth. And since you’ve already got the special effects artists going, why not throw why not throw in a couple of shots of the heat-death of the universe too, just for good measure?
Malick’s films are introspective, philosophical essays draped over a story. The Thin Red Line, for example, ostensibly told the story of the fighting in Guadalcanal, but spent a large part of its running time with Jim Caviezel and Ben Chaplin musing about the nature of being. The Tree of Life has the flimsiest story of any Malick film so far. For that matter, it also has the flimsiest philosophising. But this is no bad thing. At times, Malick has a tendency to bludgeon his audience with the point he is trying to make. ‘Right now, you should all be thinking about how life is fragile and life is precious. Once you are all thinking this exact thought, we can move onto the next point.’
Instead, what The Tree of Life gives us are suggestions. There’s very little action, and very little narration. At times, it’s almost Koyaanisqatsi-like in its refusal to present a direct point
I think Roger Ebert nails it when he compares the film to a prayer
Many films diminish us. They cheapen us, masturbate our senses, hammer us with shabby thrills, diminish the value of life. Some few films evoke the wonderment of life’s experience, and those I consider a form of prayer. Not prayer “to” anyone or anything, but prayer “about” everyone and everything. I believe prayer that makes requests is pointless. What will be, will be. But I value the kind of prayer when you stand at the edge of the sea, or beneath a tree, or smell a flower, or love someone, or do a good thing. Those prayers validate existence and snatch it away from meaningless routine.
At the end of the screening I attended, the credits began to roll and a single audience member started to clap. No-one joined in. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I didn’t clap because it didn’t feel right. Would you clap a deeply heartfelt prayer?
Inspired by Stephen Soderbergh’s apparent love of watching Raiders of the Lost Ark in black and white (three times in one week), Flavorwire’s Jason Bailey has put together a list of ten modern films that are better in black and white, mostly neo-noirs — The Last Seduction, Fargo and Out of Sight — that throw back to older films anyway. Still, it’s a great list and something I’m keen to try out myself. Incidentally, I’ve been playing a bit of Rockstar’s new game, L.A. Noire, which also includes an option to play the entire game in black and white, which really does make that game much more effective and atmospheric (via kottke).
The Sundays are the only band whose songs still manage to make me feel like a heartsick teenager.
I know I tweeted this a while back, but I’m still blown away by the Italian names for the characters in Star Wars (or, as it’s called here, Guerre Stellari). E.g. Ian Solo. IAN!
Geoff Keighley’s fantastic 15,000-word multimedia essay is finally available for those of us without iPads.
Father realises there are a lot of jokes about Chell in Portal 2 being adopted, flips out because his own daughter is adopted. The father says “I didn’t know what to do, I still don’t know what to do.” Translation: “Is there anyone I can sue for this? I need to make bank off of this somehow.”
This father probably wouldn’t have such a problem with the game if he’d just sit down with his adopted child and have The Conversation. He says it himself – “It throws the question, the most ultimate question that child is ever going to have for you, and it just throws it right in the living room.” In other words, he’s not ready or willing to talk to his child about her adoption, and until he does, anything that mentions adoption — especially if it portrays adoption in anything less than glowing terms and, as such, makes The Conversation more difficult for him — is unacceptable. I say: man the fuck up and talk to your child.
As a dyed-in-the-wool Unix nerd, this excites and scares me in equal measure.
This video-essay is so incredibly tragic and moving. I think I’ve got something in my eye.
Trailer for the Thundercats reboot, which is coming to Cartoon Network later this year. By the way, be real careful clicking through the ‘related videos’ on this one. Furries just love them some Thundercats.