Monday, November 18, 2013

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (John Cassavetes, 1976)

This article is part of a year-long feature - watching and blogging about twenty acclaimed, cult, challenging and rare films over the course of 2013. The full list of films (and links to other completed posts) can be found here. Seventeen: Ben Gazzara becomes involved in The Killing of a Chinese Bookie.


The Killing of a Chinese Bookie's title precedes it. For many years, every time I stumbled across such an incredibly distinctive name, I found myself endlessly intrigued by by it. More than any other film on this list of twenty, it had been occupying a high position on my 'to watch' list for the longest time, based on the name almost alone (that, and several filmmakers I admire cite Cassavetes as a major influence). But, for whatever reason, it was not a film easily accessible here in Ireland without importing, and general laziness meant I never bothered to throw it into a shopping cart whenever I was ordering films from overseas. Thankfully, the BFI were decent enough to re-release a generous Blu-Ray package a few months ago, affording this one viewer the chance to finally easily procure a high quality copy of this relatively elusive film

(FYI: I watched it in its original longer form, although the debate over which cut is superior is deeply intriguing, and I will endeavour to view the notably remixed alternate version)

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Nashville (Robert Altman, 1975)

This article is part of a year-long feature - watching and blogging about twenty acclaimed, cult, challenging and rare films over the course of 2013. The full list of films (and links to other completed posts) can be found here. Sixteen: now, after years in the making, it's Robert Altman's Nashville!


As far as credit sequences go, they don't come any more electrifying than Nashville's. Taking the form of one of those irritatingly familiar infomercials for mail order musical complications, within barely a minute of the classic Paramount logo appearing on screen, we've been assaulted with a primer of how we need to watch Altman's utterly distinctive film. We get previews of the film's country music soundtrack, and we're briefly but loudly introduced to the film's dizzying ensemble. It, like the film that is to follow, is anarchic and overloaded with information, yet somehow remains crystal clear in its presentation.