Archive for the ‘ see this film ’ Category

WIZARD PEOPLE, DEAR READER

This is one of my absolute favorite pieces of media from the past half decade. I’ve synced/watched it at least four times, and have listened to the audio twice as many as that (most of those being flights, which I highly recommend after having watched it once). Quite simply, I think this is one of the best written pieces of modern comedy I’ve encountered.

Wizard People, Dear Reader is Brad Neely’s re-recording of the entirety of the dialogue from 2001′s ugly “Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone.” Neely is also one of the premier brick-layers at what used to be www.SuperDeluxe.com, where he produced a shit ton of stellar animated shorts

extensions of the style developed in Creased Comics

God, I’m so tempted to just start quoting lines, but I can’t rob any new-viewers the pleasure of going in uninformed. Just, trust me; this thing is brilliant. On the extra-omnibus, this thing would be riding first class.

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WIZARD PEOPLE, DEAR READER (mp3′s)

Read this Book, See this Film: Kobo Abe’s “Woman in the Dunes”

Both are outstanding, and exhibit one of those rare instances where a given piece of media is not superior over the other (book > film); instead, each piece is imbued with the meanings and the underlying notions of the work, while exemplifying the strengths of the form it inhabits (Abe wrote both novel and screenplay, with longtime collaborator Hiroshi Teshigahara at the helm of the picture).

Both novel and film are an exercise in modern existentialism, to be sure, but not the contrived “triumphs” of a Sartre protagonist (smug motherfuckers they be – “The tree – C’est Existence!”). This smacks of the kind of abject terror of Camus, the railing against the fates amidst a kind of unceasing helplessness. The good shit.

At times, both can drag on the senses (the book more than the film, understandably – you’ll start to think in sand, rolling down the sides of your temples), but definitely worth a gander. Particularly if you enjoy the silent shrieks that strike the chord of night, hollow against the meaningless construct of the self.

BONUS: The Myth of Sisyphus essay by Albert Camus, for all my nyerds. One has to work a Sisyphean reference when discussing Woman in the Dunes, one way or another!