It's blaringly obvious that The Blog hibernates in the Winter. Sadly, I do not, and in a twist of fate, following an amazing Sundance, which followed being detained at the Colombian border, which preceded a few weeks in the Bahamas, and definitely some Less Than Zero nights in West Hollywood, I've somehow ended up in Paris, living in the 10th, curling moustaches, becoming frustrated by jeu de palme, speaking spanish instead of french, drinking red wine and enjoying the seasonal shift to tar tar, and working in an office all day.
so what else, beyond that. we sold ANOTHER EARTH to fox searchlight. brit became the it girl or whatever that means (and it's so convenient because there's already an -it in her name). mike signed with william morris. i started working for a rad company called memento films who are totally wonderful and beautifully amazing.
but to avoid the long wind, expect pictures of late mornings and early nights and empty bottles of rose.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Happy Holidays/ Visit from the Parents/Ryan Werner Redux
Yes dear children I know I've been neglect, and, accordingly in the posher suburbs of your States, I'd likely lose possession of you. But much has transpired and much continues to and I gladly look forward to another island to reside in for the holiday where internet moves at a speed akin to us gaining reception of the keys to our new apartment (and thus entrance therein) (translation really fucking slow!)
Until the next one, feast your eyes on my holiday card, a Chris T. original...
And how could I forget the visit from my dear parents? My mother, shouldering thru an elbow surgery, and my father, tasting the local alcohols. And me, Jack, and Tom, drinking girly drinks that could barely inebriate the likes of Ryan Werner.
Oh Colombia..!
Until the next one, feast your eyes on my holiday card, a Chris T. original...
And how could I forget the visit from my dear parents? My mother, shouldering thru an elbow surgery, and my father, tasting the local alcohols. And me, Jack, and Tom, drinking girly drinks that could barely inebriate the likes of Ryan Werner.
Oh Colombia..!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Sundance/ANOTHER EARTH/Remembering Home
I'm feeling as removed from the US as I have since I lived in Havana.
That is not necessarily a bad thing--just that it's easy to forget that you have a life there. Simple things. The people who are, when the geographic is applicable, of importance--friends, fellow drinkers, ex-girlfriends and lovers, neighbors, annoying office mates, Mickey from the Ear and George from Pao and even that rat bastard crumbsucker Stefan. And Nora--let's not get into that bungled procedural. In a way I can't totally nail down, they remain as abstract memories triggered from characters in films you see late in Santa Marta that bare only the slightest resemblances in appearance or demeanor. to the figures in the faded Iphotos.
But on films and memories, and straying from post-Xanex musings, a film that I worked on in the not too distant past and that is without a doubt more of a moving picture in my mind was just accepted to competition at Sundance. To boot, it was written, co-written, and directed by two of my favorite people in the world--Mike Cahill and Brit Marling.
Mike and I have been conspiring and collaborating since our first days of University, and Brit, Mike and I for an almost equal amount of time. We've traversed the Go-Go clubs of DC; the depths of Central Havana when Mike became convinced that he was allergic to his mattress in Vedado; and been asked to leave some of the posher bars and clubs in nyc for trying to swing from chandeliers.
It's been over ten years of working together and I'm proud more than anything to have an imprint, however small, on ANOTHER EARTH and to have helped in my own small way to shepherd it to the most prominent festival in the United States.
I'm exhausted. But these pictures aren't.
Weirdly enough I can't find anymore of Cahill. I suppose would be lousy as an archivist.
That is not necessarily a bad thing--just that it's easy to forget that you have a life there. Simple things. The people who are, when the geographic is applicable, of importance--friends, fellow drinkers, ex-girlfriends and lovers, neighbors, annoying office mates, Mickey from the Ear and George from Pao and even that rat bastard crumbsucker Stefan. And Nora--let's not get into that bungled procedural. In a way I can't totally nail down, they remain as abstract memories triggered from characters in films you see late in Santa Marta that bare only the slightest resemblances in appearance or demeanor. to the figures in the faded Iphotos.
But on films and memories, and straying from post-Xanex musings, a film that I worked on in the not too distant past and that is without a doubt more of a moving picture in my mind was just accepted to competition at Sundance. To boot, it was written, co-written, and directed by two of my favorite people in the world--Mike Cahill and Brit Marling.
Mike and I have been conspiring and collaborating since our first days of University, and Brit, Mike and I for an almost equal amount of time. We've traversed the Go-Go clubs of DC; the depths of Central Havana when Mike became convinced that he was allergic to his mattress in Vedado; and been asked to leave some of the posher bars and clubs in nyc for trying to swing from chandeliers.
It's been over ten years of working together and I'm proud more than anything to have an imprint, however small, on ANOTHER EARTH and to have helped in my own small way to shepherd it to the most prominent festival in the United States.
I'm exhausted. But these pictures aren't.
Weirdly enough I can't find anymore of Cahill. I suppose would be lousy as an archivist.
Friday, November 26, 2010
A Letter to Ryan Werner and Lizzie Nastro/ On Human Centipede
As Nora taunts by sending me "accidental" emails of her exploits in Venice, I'm happy to report that Jack and our new friend Ana conspired to prepare the most "mejor" Thanksgiving dinner, augmenting all with bacon! What an idea! Following an accomplished effort at teaching the house dog how to swim, Frankie had the foresight to Entertain us with Human Centipede! If you have seen it, it's a crowd pleaser! If you haven't, I'm not entirely sure where to begin.
Because we're thoroughly in the "in" in New York with regards to those who are in the "in" in the very important world of independent film which Ted Nope so eloquently and accurately documents, we know the folks behind the release, and we, the collective in Colombia, have transcribed the following public letter to the man behind the Centipede (luckily not in the middle, if you know what I'm saying), Ryan Werner.
11/26/2010
Dear Ryan,
Thanks in advance for effectively publicizing your film, HUMAN CENTIPEDE. As we browsed the selection of bootlegs at the local Super Market, it immediately caught our eye.
While we held off for a week to view, we did find time to screen it towards the end of our Colombian Thanksgiving. It certainly made me appreciate how good it is to be an American. I'm quite excited for the betterment of humanity in that you're so eager to involve yourself with the sequel. I think the whole world, including children, will most certainly benefit from such a work of art. It stands in line with other works in your catalog. To quote Mark Borchardt in MODUS OPERANDI, "Job Well Done!".
Like the best of cinema, its intrinsic social value was demonstrated by its altruistic nature which far exceeds the reaches of our living room. Without pause I can say it really instilled solid values in Andres, our eight year old neighbor, particularly when the antagonist allowed the woman to be fed. I mean, despite his apparent deviant nature, what a Nice Guy!
You, as a curator, have reached deity status in my book, and Godard would be proud, if He by some odd chance remains unaware of your promotion of such a piece, and its availability in a town as remote and small as Santa Marta.
To say independent cinema can't change the world is simply false!
Firm handshakes, sturdy pats on the back, and lemondrops for all,
Nicholas Shumaker
dictated and then written
CC: Mike Plante, Elizabeth Nastro, Jack Turner, 8 year old Andres from across the street
Because we're thoroughly in the "in" in New York with regards to those who are in the "in" in the very important world of independent film which Ted Nope so eloquently and accurately documents, we know the folks behind the release, and we, the collective in Colombia, have transcribed the following public letter to the man behind the Centipede (luckily not in the middle, if you know what I'm saying), Ryan Werner.
11/26/2010
Dear Ryan,
Thanks in advance for effectively publicizing your film, HUMAN CENTIPEDE. As we browsed the selection of bootlegs at the local Super Market, it immediately caught our eye.
While we held off for a week to view, we did find time to screen it towards the end of our Colombian Thanksgiving. It certainly made me appreciate how good it is to be an American. I'm quite excited for the betterment of humanity in that you're so eager to involve yourself with the sequel. I think the whole world, including children, will most certainly benefit from such a work of art. It stands in line with other works in your catalog. To quote Mark Borchardt in MODUS OPERANDI, "Job Well Done!".
Like the best of cinema, its intrinsic social value was demonstrated by its altruistic nature which far exceeds the reaches of our living room. Without pause I can say it really instilled solid values in Andres, our eight year old neighbor, particularly when the antagonist allowed the woman to be fed. I mean, despite his apparent deviant nature, what a Nice Guy!
You, as a curator, have reached deity status in my book, and Godard would be proud, if He by some odd chance remains unaware of your promotion of such a piece, and its availability in a town as remote and small as Santa Marta.
To say independent cinema can't change the world is simply false!
Firm handshakes, sturdy pats on the back, and lemondrops for all,
Nicholas Shumaker
dictated and then written
CC: Mike Plante, Elizabeth Nastro, Jack Turner, 8 year old Andres from across the street
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