Pixel Vision

D-Structuring the Antique Roadshow

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By Vanessa K. Read more »

Dirty, dirty bedroom secrets

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By Justin Juul

I once lived with a girl whose bedroom looked and smelled exactly like a landfill. Stained panties, pieces of trash, and soup-bowls-turned-ashtrays were strewn from one corner of her private hellhole to the next. The strange thing was that if you had never seen this girl’s room you would have thought she was normal and nice. She dressed well, spoke eloquently, and never did anything too crazy. But I knew the truth. Read more »

SFIFF, day seven: Home, Towne, and Leigh love

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By Jeffrey M. Anderson

Well, I wasn't able to catch up with Errol Morris this time around, and I'm bummed, but I secured an interview with screenwriter extraordinaire Robert Towne, which I will share with you later in the week.

I did catch up with Touching Home, the feature debut by local twins Logan and Noah Miller, and after watching it I suspect that their future may lie more in the realm of producing than directing or acting; their meetings may be more interesting than their movies. Read more »

Thank you, super-fierceness

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I needed a hero to get through this morning after, and you came from the ceiling to save me. Read more »

SFIFF, day six: Iran further away -- and Errol Morris

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By Jeffrey M. Anderson

The SF International Film Festival has always been open to Iranian films. Festival-goers have been able to see Mohsen Makhmalbaf's 1996 A Moment of Innocence and 1998 The Silence, Jafar Panahi's 2000 The Circle, Jazireh Ahani's 2005 Iron Island, and a whole batch of Abbas Kiarostami films (he was given the festival's "achievement in directing" award in 2000). But lately the output of Iranian films has slowed. The unfriendly Bush-era climate could be responsible for fewer Iranian films being imported to the U.S. Read more »

SFIFF, weekend one: city songs and auteur-itis

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By Jeffrey M. Anderson

The first Saturday of the SF International Film Festival is usually loaded. Read more »

SFIFF, weekend one: Dario, Black Francis, and Roy Andersson

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By Jeffrey M. Anderson

I found it vaguely irresponsible, and perhaps even cruel, that the festival programmed its two most high-profile horror pictures on the same night at around the same time. Dario Argento's Mother of Tears and Paul Wegener's 1920 film The Golem both played Friday night between 9 and 11 p.m. I managed to see the Argento film in advance: Mother of Tears is the third in a trilogy that Argento began with Suspiria (1977) and Inferno (1980), but unlike those two this one is laughably awful. Read more »

SFIFF, day two: A golem on the horizon

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By Jeffrey M. Anderson

Tonight, I'm off to see Roy Andersson's You, the Living and then Frank Black's live accompaniment to 1920’s The Golem. Three years ago at SFIFF, I saw Frank Borzage's 1927 Street Angel with a live score by the American Music Club, and it was one of the great movie nights of my life. Read more »

Lit: Still Broke Ass after all these years

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By Justin Juul

Broke Ass Stuart is a travel writer, an SF cult hero, and one of the luckiest sunzabitches you will ever meet. Not only does he get paid to travel the world and write, but he also gets to do it as himself. Most travel writers have to water their stories down for those crappy airplane magazines or they just write thousands of fact-of-the-matter-reviews designed for hurried tourists. But not Stuart. Read more »

SFIFF, day one: The world according to Asia

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By Jeffrey M. Anderson

This year, it's Asia Argento's festival, and we're all just invited. I've heard through the grapevine that Asia will not be in attendance at the 51st San Francisco International Film Festival, but her diva-ness will exude throughout. She's in no less than three festival films this year, a feat I can't remember ever having been duplicated (if you were quick enough, a fourth one, Boarding Gate, recently opened and closed in San Francisco). Read more »