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District B13 is sort of a French Escape from New York. The ending is a little soft but this chase scene is not too shabby.
Arthur C. Clarke, science fiction writer, prophesier of geosynchronous orbit, and all around visionary, passed away yesterday. He was 90 years old. Here's his wikipedia page.
And here are some interesting excerpts from his diary written during the filming of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
was cajoled into watching some chop socky nonsense, Five Deadly Venoms which is apparently a cult classic. didnt seem any better or worse than 100 others.
fortunately i had The Hidden Fortress which cleansed the palette afterwords.
if you've seen the incredibles, this is pretty funny
just watched Avenue Montaigne. light fare but pleasant and ultimately satisfying.
eastwoods Unforgiven last night. that is all.
afi updated its top 100 american films last year. interesting to see what rises and falls in their esteem. spielberg is a little overrepresented in my estimation. hard to see shindlers list cracking my top 100 much less the top 10. cant believe The Third Man, Giant and A Place in the Sun gets short shrift for the likes of The Shawshank Redemption Titanic The Sixth Sense and Toy Story. conversely nice to see Nashville, Sunrise The Last Picture Show and Swing Time crack the list.
just to maintain fealty to the log i will note that i watched Stage Door directed by gregory la cava starring kate hepburn and ginger rogers and Singin in the Rain with gene kelly, debbie reynolds and donald o'çonnor directed by stanley donen. also the previous day i absorbed the better part of two epics Fiddler on the Roof directed by norman (im not a jew) jewison and david leans Dr Zhivago with julie cristie omar sharif and alec guiness among others.
“CRIME AND PUNISHMENT” on skateboards — that was one of the early tag lines floating around the production of “Paranoid Park,” the new film by Gus Van Sant. Based on a novel by Blake Nelson, the story follows a teenage skateboarder in Portland, Ore., who accidentally kills a security guard and is then left to ponder his guilt in a void of suburban amorality.