So, today we wrap up The Week of The Dissolve. It’s been a fun, occasionally melancholy stroll down meta-memory lane. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.
As should be abundantly clear by now, The Dissolve meant a lot to me, and still does.
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The Week of The Dissolve soldiers on.
At this point, you may well wonder how much more I could possibly have to say. It’s not an unreasonable thing to wonder, but you may be surprised — I’ve actually been pretty moderate in my gushing praise so far.
Yesterday, we kicked off The Week of The Dissolve with what the site itself, in one of its “Movie of the Week” features, might’ve called a Keynote. Today, continuing this meta-One Year Later appreciation thread, we move on to some Essentials.
Quick! Free association game. I’ll go first: Maximilian Schell, Peter Ustinov, Melina Mercouri! Did you answer: Topkapi?
Probably not. (Though congrats if you did.)
These are huge names, but Topkapi is not. Between the three leads, they amassed 86 prestigious awards and nominations, including Oscars, Emmys, Grammys, Cannes triumphs, and whatever a CableACE award is.
The title of this post is a lie in at least two ways: Girl Walk // All Day is neither new nor on Netflix.
But I only just came across Girl Walk (so it’s new to me). It’s readily available for your viewing pleasure (free on Vimeo and YouTube, so that’s even better than a paid streaming service for our purposes here).
In 1928, following the one-two punch of his celebrated U.S.-made releases Faust and Sunrise, and four years after he made The Last Laugh for UFA, the great German director F.W. Murnau predicted that the “films of the future will use more and more of these camera angles, or, as I prefer to call them, these dramatic angles.
A crumbling city wall runs along the hillside above the Dai estate, a once-great residence in similar disrepair. Through its cracks, we see the empty skyline stretching forever, and stones are scattered among the weeds. It’s an image of loneliness, faded glory, and nostalgia, and it forms the metaphorical centerpiece of Fei Mu’s 1948 masterpiece Spring In A Small Town.
The winner of last year’s Academy Award for Documentary (Short), Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy’s A Girl In The River is a 40-minute gut-punch. As cinema, it’s not particularly groundbreaking. As a bracing call to arms against the institution of honor-killing, specifically in Pakistan, it’s entirely effective.
In their mission statement, the Ovarian Psychos succinctly explain what they’re about:
We are an all womxn of color bicycling brigade cycling for the purpose of healing our communities physically, emotionally and spiritually by addressing pertinent issues. We envision a world where women are change agents who create and maintain holistic health in themselves and their respective communities for present and future generations.
James White, currently streaming on Netflix, announces its focus right away, in its title. Probably, prospective audiences might rightfully imagine, this will be a film about a guy called “James White”. There’s something vaguely old-fashioned about it, Victorian. Not even “The Sorrows of James White” or “The Continuing Adventures of James White.”