Looking for the Magic

As he talks, the actor begins to relax. Initially he resists talking about Jack Nicholson, the legendary womaniser, drinker, drug-taker and party animal, batting off questions with responses like, ‘It’s a conceptual point of view, not always the reality’. 

The day he flew into New York from his LA home, he headed straight to a private party to meet up with his old friend Keith Richards. 

I remind him of Robin Williams’s joke that Nicholson is the only man in the world to whom Richards would say, ‘I have to go home now, Jack.’

— Louise Gannon, Daily Mail

Al Pacino & Gene Hackman in Jerry Schatzberg’s under-appreciated drifter flick Scarecrow (1973)

Stuart and I had lunch, because he just wanted to meet me. He worked for Mel Brooks and he loved Ronnie Rocket, so he tried to help me get it going. But it just wasn’t happening. So one day I called him, and I said, ‘Stuart, I’ve reached the point where I know Ronnie Rocket isn’t going to happen. If you know of some scripts that I could direct, could you help me?’ And he said, ‘I’ll get some things together and take you to lunch.’ We went to the same place: Nibblers on Wilshire. And we were sitting at this table and we got to this certain point where I said, ‘OK, Stuart, what have you got?’ And Stuart said, ‘Well, I’ve got four things. The first one is called The Elephant Man.’ And a thing went off in my head. And I said, ‘That’s it!” Without knowing what it meant? Only the title. I knew nothing, and yet, I knew everything. In that one instant.

— David Lynch, Lynch on Lynch

(text via markrichardson)

What drives Coppola’s work, beyond ambition and the vagaries of moody youth? Look closely at her movies and a surprising answer emerges: From The Virgin Suicides to Somewhere, Coppola’s films are striking for their steadfast, targeted attack on the culture of Hollywood. And although this common thread at first looks incidental to her project, it runs to the heart of her divisive reputation. Coppola’s insider criticism of Hollywood, her disdain for the industry that her own career relies on, leads her into a strange territory between hypocrisy and candor, privileged lament and fearless protest. This indeterminacy gives her work the back-and-forth flicker—and intrigue—of a lure in water. But it also leads her to a site of unusual cultural tension. As both a beneficiary of creative privilege and a critic of it, Coppola has become a lightning rod for authenticity questions more broadly haunting American culture since the last boom era. Her problematic attack on Hollywood is the reason why these quiet and parochially minded movies stick so sharply in the nervous system of their time.

— Nathan Heller, from his Slate piece on Sophia Coppola

(via istanton)

Christopher Walken, James Foley and Sean Penn on-set, At Close Range (1986)

(via amy-blue)

(Source: mrsalabamaworley)

…In the original release 20th Century-Fox decided to play up the sensational elements in The Panic in Needle Park, and to overlook the qualities that make this a special and sometimes extraordinary movie. The New York Times carried one of those public confession ads that apologize for the ads that have gone before. “Did our ads blow it for The Panic in Needle Park!” the studio says. Their mistake (according to the current ad) was to play up the drama and love story in the movie, and play down the shock, the horror, the strong stuff. “If you see it,” the ad now promises, “it will sear your senses forever. And that’s the truth.”

Well, not quite. The shocking documentary details are there, and sometimes they work but usually they break a tone instead of creating one. That’s because (if you’ll permit me, 20th Century-Fox) this film is indeed a love story, and more specifically a carefully observed portrait of two human beings. If you go to see needles and blood and depravity, you may well be disappointed; the movie is more intelligent than your expectations.

That may be because of Joan Didion’s contribution; she wrote the screenplay with her husband, John Gregory Dunne, but somehow I think the character of the girl, Helen, came out of Didion’s private resources.

— Roger Ebert, in his 1971 review of Jerry Schatzberg’s film, about which screenwriter Joan Didion was interviewed by IFC

(Source: flowerscrackconcrete)

Jeanne Moreau photo by David Bailey

(via anneyhall)

Kate Beckinsale

William Eggleston & Charlotte Rampling

(Source: aconversationoncool)

1970 – ’71 was definitely a high-water mark for Film Director (not to mention a badass photographer to boot) Robert Altman.  Hot on the heels of M*A*S*H (1970), McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971) was released and became, what many consider to be, one of Warren Beatty’s finest roles, and one of the best Westerns (or anti-Western, if you will) ever made according to many film aficionados… There was a definite charged energy on the set (shot completely in B.C.) – the reported tension between the egomaniac Beatty and the chill Altman – not to mention the sexual energy between Beatty and [Julie] Christie, who were deep in the throes of a passionate love affair – is there any other kind of affair with Beatty? Then there’s the haunting film soundtrack including the legendary Leonard Cohen that accompanied [cinematographer Vilmos] Zsigmond’s “flashed” film negative. A truly ballsy move – Altman and Zsigmond shot the film “pre-fogged” through a number of filters to maintain the visual effect they wanted, rather than manipulate it in post-production. That ensured that studio wimps couldn’t later tune-down the film’s look to something more safe and conventional. Vilmos Zsigmond’s brilliant work would garner him a nomination by the British Academy Film Awards.

— via The Selvedge Yard

While shooting the first Hangover in Las Vegas, Zach Galifianakis was sitting at a blackjack table with his mother when a kid came by and asked to take a picture with him. Galifianakis spun around, furious, and said, “Can’t you see I’m with a prostitute?”

(text via srirachashits)

I love this clip of Richard Pryor getting interviewed by the local newsman on the set of Stir Crazy (1980). All the newsman wants is an expletive-free bit — just the tiniest bit — that he can air that night, and Pryor is too coked up and belligerent to give it to him. In order to appeal to Pryor’s vanity (at 1:16), he belittles Steve Martin, but even an ultra-loaded Pryor can see what he’s doing and pushes back: “Don’t knock Steve Martin to try to build me up!” That’s character.

(via vetyverandleathr)

When I get up in the morning… my real concern is to discover whether I’m in a state of grace. And if I make that investigation, and I discover that I am not in a state of grace, I try to go [back] to bed. A state of grace is that kind of balance with which you ride the chaos that you find around you. It’s not a matter of resolving the chaos — because there’s something arrogant and warlike about putting the world in order — but having a kind of escape ski down over a hill, just going through the contours of the hill.

— Leonard Cohen, from Ladies and Gentlemen… Mr. Leonard Cohen (1965)

(via notarobotbutaghost)

Emily Blunt