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Archive for the ‘Pat Black’ Category

Zanzibar [at the Venice Film Festa]

In Pat Black on September 12, 2010 at 11:58 am

*Let’s catch up with all the red carpet gossip at the Venice Film Festival, with the King of Snark himself, Lance Zanzibar…
 
Terrible business, all told. Here I am, in a suit you can’t afford, drinking champagne you’ll never taste, sinking my feet into a carpet which will never burn your knees, cocking a snook at strumpets whose asses you’ll never slap, knowing things you’ll absolutely never know, and still I can’t work out if this Joaquin Phoenix shit is for real or not.

Yes, it’s been a trying time for your humble correspondent, exposed to only the finest food and drink shrieking little businessmen can throw at me for free, easing my way up and down the canals in my private gondola and banging star-struck work experience hacks two and sometimes three at a time. I’m engaging in the kind of clichés you can only dream about – the ones you and the guys snort beer over when you discuss that trip to Vegas you will absolutely never take. It’s called La Dolce Vita, baby. Deal with it.

Marco, my own little stripy-shirted gondolier, has been helping me search this entire town for the choicest gossip regarding I’m Still Here, Casey Affleck’s real-life study of how Phoenix apparently went off the rails and reinvented himself as some kind of half-assed gangsta rapper. All I’ve managed to find out is that Phoenix has managed to have a shave and gotten himself into his Johnny Cash suit since filming wrapped. Is it for real? Is it a hoax? Did someone really crap on his head? Is that actually coke he snorted off some groupie’s pillowy breasts? Do you think they cared, at all? Do you think that halfway through they realised that it was a really tortured, strained joke all along, and that it probably wasn’t going to excite, entertain or interest anyone?

Joaquin, if you’re listening, my harelipped hero, I think you need to peg things down a little. Go back to the tin-foil hat look you sported in Signs – that’s the kind of crazy people can hang their derision on. Read the rest of this entry »

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The Misinception of Chris Nolan

In Pat Black on July 30, 2010 at 3:43 pm

 

Christopher Nolan blew back a strand of strayfully bodisome blond hair and looked in the mirror.

            “Now there,” he said, chuckling, “is a fine-looking man.”

            The mirror blinked, and then frowned. “Uh, thanks, Mr Nolan. Are you feeling alright?”

            “Whoah.” It wasn’t a reflection, it was… goodness, it was Leonardo Di Caprio. “But… you look just like me, with the tie, and the baby blues, and the wavy landslide hair, and… I need to write this down. This is important.” He did, too, clicking at his BlackBerry.

            Di Caprio drained a glass of scaatch. “Well… I’m sure it is. I’ll, uh, be going now. Great party, Mr Nolan. I have to go and, uh, keep my mildly cool resume updated.”

            “Yes, do, do,” said Nolan. “Oh, tell me. Where are you on the Newman Scale now? You’re what, a Level Four? Pretty boy turned full-fledged serious actor, but still a leading man? Is that the Brad Pitt?”

            “Sure is.” The Di Caprio grin. “Now it gets difficult. I’m going for Level Five. The Depp. Beautiful man unsure of own face, has to go all weird and dark to make sense of it. That’s where I want to be. A character actor in all but cheque.”

            “Sure thing.” Nolan gestured to the table, littered with party debris – cocktail sticks, lonesome quiches, empty bottles, lines upon lines of coke destined for the dustbin as usual. “Um… you sure you don’t want to take some?”

            Di Caprio was good at playing the innocent. “Some..? Come again?”

            “Oh come on. You want a slice, don’t you? To take home? To share with a lady friend, maybe?”

            “Gee. Well I’m not sure if I can, Mr Nolan. You throw a mean party and all, I hate to take advantage of your hospitality…” But he was rubbing his palms against his trouser legs. That was a “tell”, Nolan knew. Or eczema, maybe.

            “Nonsense, mate, nonsense. Come on, have a slice of Credibility.”

            “Are you sure? No… I couldn’t. I’m full. And I’ve had loads from working with Scorsese again on Shutter Island. I’ll get fat on that stuff.” But he was licking his lips.

            “Oh come on, don’t be shy now. I’ve got lots of it to go around. I’m Trusted. You know – ‘In Nolan We Trust’?” Read the rest of this entry »

The heavily truncated life of Harry “Harry” Hamlin

In Pat Black on April 8, 2010 at 3:17 pm

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By Pat Black

When Harryhausen, the divine creator, first put Harry Hamlin together, he had some cause for pride. The strapping young lad might not have been as spectacular as Talos, the Cyclops or the skeleton army, but he was an especially fine human specimen. With strong, twisty wire for a skeleton, some moulding clay to flesh him out and an especially fine head of tousled black hair, the young Harry offered a striking aspect. The creator completed this image with a skirt and toga and a pair of Jesus sandals, as befit one of the ancient Greek heroes.

“My son,” the creator said, beaming. He gave Harry his first movement, a twitch of the fingers, then took a single-frame shot with the camera.

This went on for many months, with the creator carrying out a frame-by-frame animation of Harry as he executed some complex breakdancing manoeuvres.

“Father,” Harry said to the creator, “I’m pleased to be able to dance for you. But I wonder, when will I be able to make my own way in the world?” Read the rest of this entry »