The Reel Geezers review Pineapple Express (warning: spoilers!) and Man on a Wire…

Oh, glorious day.

(link) (talk about it at the Yankee Racers forum)

Release date: November 2008!

Synopsis
 
Wes Anderson first illustrated his lovingly detailed, slightly surreal cinematic vision in this witty and warm portrait of three young middle-class misfits. Fresh out of a mental hospital, gentle Anthony (Luke Wilson) finds himself once again embroiled in the machinations of his best friend, elaborate schemer Dignan (Owen Wilson). With the aid of getaway driver Bob (Robert Musgrave), they develop a needlessly complex, mildly successful plan to rob a small bookstore—then go “on the lam.” Also featuring Lumi Cavazos as Inez, the South American housekeeper Anthony falls in love with, and James Caan as local thief extraordinaire Mr. Henry, Bottle Rocket is a charming, hilarious, affectionate look at the folly of dreamers. Shot against radiant southwestern backdrops, it’s the film that put Anderson and the Wilson brothers on the map.

Special Features

* - DIRECTOR-APPROVED DOUBLE-DISC SET SPECIAL EDITION FEATURES:
* - New, restored high-definition digital transfer supervised and approved by director Wes Anderson and director of photography Robert Yeoman
* - Dolby Digital 5.1 soundtrack
* - Commentary by director/co-writer Anderson and co-writer/actor Owen Wilson
* - The Making of “Bottle Rocket”: an original documentary by filmmaker Barry Braverman featuring Anderson, James L. Brooks, James Caan, Temple Nash Jr., Kumar Pallana, Polly Platt, Mark Mothersbaugh, Robert Musgrave, Richard Sakai, David and Sandy Wasco, Andrew and Luke and Owen Wilson, and Robert Yeoman
* - The original thirteen-minute black-and-white Bottle Rocket short film from 1992
* - Eleven deleted scenes
* - Anamorphic screen test, storyboards, location photos, and behind-the-scenes photographs by Laura Wilson
* - Murita Cycles, a 1978 short film by Braverman
* - The Shafrazi Lectures, no. 1: Bottle Rocket
* - PLUS: A booklet featuring an essay by executive producer James L. Brooks, an appreciation by Martin Scorsese, and original artwork by Ian Dingman

Film Info

1996
91 minutes
Color
1.85:1
Dolby Digital 5.1
Anamorphic
English

About the Transfer

is presented in its original aspect ratio of 1.85:1. Black bars at the top and bottom of the screen are normal for this format. Supervised and approved by director Wes Anderson and director of photography Robert Yeoman, this new high-definition digital transfer was scanned on a Spirit 2K datacine from a 35 mm interpositive. Thousands of instances of dirt, debris, and scratches were removed using the MTI Digital Restoration System.

(Yankee Racer comments after the break)

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On Set Interview with Actor Waris Ahluwalia

(working on the URL… some technical difficulties)

Derek Hill is the author of the new book Charlie Kaufman and Hollywood’s Merry Band of Pranksters, Fabulists and Dreamers, now available in the U.K. (Amazon | Waterstone’s | Blackwell ) and the U.S. ( Amazon ). He has agreed to write several pieces for the Academy.

Wes Anderson’s skillful use of music in his films has no doubt come up on this site before, so I’ll refrain from proselytizing. Along with Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, PT Anderson, and Sofia Coppola, Anderson—working with his longtime musical composer Mark Mothersbaugh (at least up until The Darjeeling Limited) and any of his respective editors—is one of the best practitioners at integrating pop/rock songs into a scene in a way that is memorable and emotionally satisfying. It’s easier said than done, of course. Utilizing songs in lieu of an original score (or in tandem) can be precarious. It can bring out the most wasteful and unimaginative characteristics in a clumsy filmmaker. I’m sure we all have our own list of nefarious culprits who exemplify the worst that the medium can offer up, those lazy directors/composers who send us into catatonia as they slather on yet another saccharine note or bludgeon us into the next theater with their bullying bombastic chords. I’m talking about… well, you know who they are. We all bear the sonic scars.

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Friend of the site Owen Bates has had a blog called Metro Line 13 on the site for a few months now. Do check it out; we are interested in hosting at least a few more blogs. Here’s my favorite piece from Owen:

Shakespeare at His Agent

—Come in, sit down. It’s good to see you! How’ve you been?
—Fairest-tempered, if I do self-contemplate.
—Ha-ha, yes! I’m—no, we’re just super. I just got off the phone with the Arts editor at the Times. They want to do a cover for their theater issue, a “day in the life” kind of a thing. I penciled you in for the 5th, alright?
—Well… thou dost perchance infringe upon plans yet earthly laid.
—Could you move things around? This is big.
—In hypothetical rumination, still I know not the consequence of—
—Super. More news: Disney has a TV pitch for you. Everyone knows that Romeo and Juliet died at the end of your play. What this show presupposes is: maybe they didn’t?
—I am not of proper certainty—
—Hold on a sec. Imagine if the two star-crossèd lovers had to put up with a crazy old butler, Bartholomew, that they got from a dead uncle or nobleman or something, and they got dragged into wacky, family-friendly adventures when he just would not sit still. They’ll call it “Wherefore Bart Thou?” That’s the catchphrase, too!
—This seems not to be in accordance with my will for the heritage of my own theatrical composition.
—Shakes-e-poo, I’m not going to beat around the bush. You want to be big. I want you to be big. This is how we get big. Market saturation.
—If it must be so, let it… The conclusion of our dialogue, hast thou reached it?
—Actually: what would you think of “Othello—The Game?”

From this week’s Studio 360, from Public Radio International: Bill Murray at a Poets House event in New York.

Bravo, Bill.

From Time Out Chicago:

TOC: Yet you wrote songs for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, appearing in the film as the frontman of the Weird Sisters. Do kids recognize you?
Jarvis Cocker: I had a very specific look going on in that film—giant fur jacket, snakeskin trousers—that I wouldn’t normally wear down the street. That would get me attention, but probably the wrong kind of attention. I’ve been doing some stuff for a children’s film Wes Anderson is doing, an animated feature.

TOC: The stop-motion adaptation of Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr. Fox?
Jarvis Cocker: I’ve written three, four songs, and some of that might become bits of the score.

TOC: Now you’re writing the new Disney songs.
Jarvis Cocker: If you criticize Disney, the next step is “do better.” I get the chance to do it myself and corrupt young minds.

Derek Hill is the author of the new book Charlie Kaufman and Hollywood’s Merry Band of Pranksters, Fabulists and Dreamers, now available in the U.K. (Amazon | Waterstone’s | Blackwell ) and out soon in the U.S. ( Amazon ). He has agreed to write several pieces for the Academy. This is part 2; Derek has decided to offer the section of the book on TDL in its entirety. Enjoy!

‘Is that symbolic?  We.  Haven’t.  Located.  Us.  Yet!’
– Francis Whitman (Owen Wilson) has his mind blown when he realises that the train he and his brothers have been passengers on is lost.

Anderson has never been averse to addressing mortality head-on in his films, specifically the death of a spouse (Rushmore), parent (The Royal Tenenbaums) or child (The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou).  Although all of his films are ostensibly comedies, there has always been an element of the impermanence of things, of people, that has delicately coaxed an emotional resonance forth from the wackiness.  Not particularly original or groundbreaking, but when one considers the frequently bathetic treatment of death in much of American mainstream cinema, Anderson’s unsentimental and realistic treatment of grief is a commendable aspect and intrusion upon his lucid, intensely fabricated theatricality.  As much as Anderson has become a master of the elaborate multi-layered mise-en-scene, he also astutely understands the moment to drop back, allowing his characters to feel the brunt of their sorrow without excessive ornamentation.  The Darjeeling Limited is as waggish as any of Anderson’s previous work.  But at its core is the black hole of loss, the invisible thread that binds us as profoundly (if not more so) than birth.

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