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I've much to give thanks for this year. The programmers who create the screenings and series I'm grateful to follow, cover and attend, cats like Bruce Goldstein at Film Forum, David Schwartz at Museum of the Moving Image, and Caryn Coleman and Max Cavanaugh at the Nitehawk Cinema.
Today's pickin's be slim, but that sorta honors the whole notion of deprivation prior to feast, as this Wednesday before Thanksgiving traditionally & dietarily represents to some of us. Most of us. Okay me. I can never lie about film or roast turkey. I'm a glutton for both.
Today's lone series is the nearly-kaput Fassbinder: Romantic Anarchist (Part Two). Hey, it's the last week of the month, you expect your bread to be fresh too? The repertory rapscallionism be thus;
As of today, we've been privileged beneficiaries of nearly three-quarters of a century of Terry Gilliam. I can't wait to see what he's working on when he reaches the centennial mark. Happy Birthday, sir.
Today, to honor the memory of a particularly brilliant talent, one recently and unfairly departed, who graciously shone his high beams on virtually every aspect of the artistic universe as we know it, I will sip a few Bourgons. He'll get it.
Okay, I'm beginning to get a bit miffed by how free the 20th of the month feels in just showing up like it does. No courtesy call, no advance warning, just invites itself into my life and decides to stay. For an entire day, no less. What's worse, it's progeny, all the other twenties, and sometimes even a couple of thirties, are soon to follow. And I'm expected to pay them with my time! This works how exactly? I demand an explanation!