Showing posts with label Jazz on Film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jazz on Film. Show all posts

Thursday, 7 November 2024

Anatomy of a Murder (Otto Preminger, 1959)

Otto Preminger with Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington

Otto Preminger concluded the 50s – a decade already marked by some of his most audacious work – with this courtroom drama about a country lawyer called on to defend an army lieutenant accused of murdering a bar owner who has allegedly raped the lieutenant’s wife. It is widely celebrated as one of the greatest American films.

Based on a real case, Anatomy of a Murder was adapted from a 1957 book by former prosecutor John D. Voelker, which was still a “New York Times” bestseller when the film went into production. Aside from the superb central cast, which includes James Stewart, Lee Remick, Ben Gazzara and George C. Scott, the role of the judge went to real-life judge Joseph N. Welch (who is also seen calmly upbraiding Senator Joseph McCarthy in the documentary Point of Order). The film is shot entirely on location, where the actual crime and trial had taken place. The court scenes that make up the majority of the film were shot in sequence, providing the actors with an enriching sense of realism. The result is perfection.

Saturday, 2 November 2024

London Jazz Festival | Jazz on Screen: Symphonies in Black – Duke Ellington Shorts

Jazz on Screen: Symphonies in Black: Duke Ellington Shorts

Tue 19 Nov 2024, 18:30, Location: Barbican Cinema 3

Introduction to the screening by Ehsan Khoshbakht


Join us at the Barbican for a special screening event featuring 16 captivating short films that highlight the extraordinary musical legacy of Duke Ellington and his Orchestra. Spanning nearly a quarter of a century (1929-1953), these films showcase Ellington’s performances in a variety of settings, often accompanied by dancers and singers, including the legendary Billie Holiday in Symphony in Black: A Rhapsody of Negro Life. This particular film fluidly transitions between Ellington composing in solitude, leading his band in a tuxedo at a concert, and artistic depictions of African American life, including a moving sequence with Billie Holiday portraying heartbreak similar to Bessie Smith's iconic film appearance six years prior.

Wednesday, 12 June 2024

Symphonies in Black: Duke Ellington Shorts

Black & Tan

Symphonies in Black: Duke Ellington Shorts

A programme by Jonathan Rosenbaum and Ehsan Khoshbakht (Il Cinema Ritrovato, Bologna, June 2024)

Introductory note by Jonathan Rosenbaum


In 16 shorts made over a stretch of almost a quarter of a century (1929-1953), Duke Ellington and his Orchestra perform in a variety of settings, often with dancers and singers – including Billie Holiday in Symphony in Black: A Rhapsody of Negro Life. The latter cuts freely between Ellington alone in thoughtful composing mode, Ellington in a tux performing the same extended composition with his band at a concert, arty images of men engaged in heavy labour, a wordless church sermon, a nightclub floorshow, and even a short stretch of story showing Holiday being pushed to the ground by an ungrateful lover before singing there about her misery – a near replica of the musical setup accorded to Bessie Smith in her only film appearance six years earlier.

Indeed, although the pleasures to be found here are chiefly musical, the narrative pretexts for these performances offer a fascinating look at how both jazz and Black musicians were perceived and expected to behave during the first three decades of talkies. At least half of the films are Soundies made for sound-and-image jukeboxes in the 40s, but even these often trade on narrative details such as the adoring women digging the solos by Ray Nance, Rex Stewart, Ben Webster, and others at an “eatery” after hours in Jam Session (1942), or the spectacular dancing by athletic jitterbugging couples in Hot Chocolate (Cottontail) from the same year.

Monday, 28 August 2023

Sven Klangs kvintett (Stellan Olsson, 1976)


Playing at Close-Up Cinema in London on September 24, 2023. – EK


Voted by Swedish film critics as one of the "25 greatest Swedish films ever", Stellan Olsson's tender drama is based on a play by Henric Holmberg and Ninne Olsson, about the failed transformation of a dance band, formed by a group of young friends, into a proper jazz band in southern Sweden of the late 1950s. Excited by the discovery of a new musical language, they discuss Charlie Parker, and one of them, the saxophonist Lars Nilsson, goes as far as imitating his idol not only in his saxophone sound but also in his wild lifestyle. Shot in stunning black-and-white, many traces of the tableau-like compositions that Swedish cinema through figures like Roy Andersson became known for are already established here. So is the cracking humour. This gem of Swedish films is ripe for rediscovery.

Wednesday, 28 April 2021

Playing with Camera: 'Music Films' from Bach to Bob Dylan (2021)

من هم مثل خیلی‌ از فرزندان عصر سینما و تلویزیون، بخش عمده‌ای از تاریخ موسیقی را از طریق تصاویر متحرک و با دیدن نوازندگان و موسیقی‌دانان و خوانندگان در فیلم‌های داستانی و مستند کشف کرده‌ام. بین آواز و ساززدن لویی آرمسترانگ به‌عنوان قطعات ضبط‌شدۀ موسیقی با تصویر ثبت‌شدۀ او در فیلم‌ها، با آن عرق روی پیشانی و چشمان درشت‌شده و زخم روی لبش که حاصل دهه‌ها دمیدن در ترومپت‌ بود، ارتباطی حیاتی وجود داشت. این نه‌فقط برای دیدن کشمکش فیزیکی یک موزیسین با خودش و بدنش و سازش در حین اجرا، بلکه برای دیدن روابط او با بقیۀ موزیسین‌ها بود و اینکه آرمسترانگ چطور فضای پیراموش را می‌بلعد، چطور به طبّال گروه با شوق نگاه می‌کند و نخ می‌دهد یا چه شوخی‌هایی در گوش جک تیگاردن زمزمه می‌کند که ما هرگز نمی‌شنویم. شنیدن کی بود مانند دیدن؟

شاهکارهای مستند دربارۀ موسیقی، مانند جاز در ظهری تابستانی، پشت‌سر را نگاه نکن و مونتری پاپ، هم به درک من از انواع مختلف موسیقی که در آن‌ها شنیده می‌شد (جاز، راک‌اندرول، گاسپل، فولک، راک، موسیقی سنتی هندی) کمک کرده‌اند و هم اطلاعات بی‌اندازه مهمی در خود داشته‌اند دربارۀ ارتباط موسیقی با جوامع و دوره‌های فرهنگی که این آثار موسیقی از آن‌ها برآمدند. هدف این کتاب مطالعۀ هر دو جریان و نقش سینما در ترجمۀ آن به تصویر و چگونگی بازنمایی موسیقی است.

این کتاب حاصل دو دهه نوشتن دربارۀ سینمای موسیقی است و رویکردی تجدیدنظرطلبانه دارد، هم تجدیدنظر در موضوع در مقایسه با آثار مکتوب دیگر و هم تجدیدنظرِ خود این نویسنده در دریافتش از موسیقی که این آخری باعث شد بخش عمده‌ای از نوشته‌ها و دیدگاه‌هایی را که در اوایل کار دربارۀ موسیقی داشتم، دور بریزم و آن‌ها را در طرحی تازه بیان کنم.

Saturday, 13 June 2020

Time Remembered: Chris Marker Picks His Favourite Bill Evans Recordings

Chris Marker in Telluride, 1987. Courtesy of Tom Luddy.

On the art of lyrical compilation, from one medium to another

Until midnight music is a job, until four o’clock it’s a pleasure, and after that it’s a rite.” – Chris Marker

There are only indirect hints as to what Chris Marker liked and did beyond his films. In studying the world of this elusive director, every sign invites us to scrutinize it carefully. Marker appears in small details, such as the mix CD which one day arrived on my doorstep. If the address on the parcel hadn’t confirmed the sender as Tom Luddy, co-director of Telluride Film Festival and a close friend of Marker’s, I could have taken it to be Marker’s personal gift from the beyond.

The CD cover gave little away: Sandwiching a photo of pianist Bill Evans was his name and the words "joue pour Guillaume" [plays for Guillaume], along with an illustrated image of the Markerian animal familiar Guillaume, a wise if mischievous-looking cat, holding sheet music. A lyrical filmmaker, who could also compose and play the piano, had compiled his favorite tunes performed by the lyrical jazz pianist and composer Evans (1929-80). The fascination with compilation is also evident in the films. Marker would often juxtapose material from various sources—news footage, computer games, photographs and songs—to remarkable effect.

Tom Luddy recalls conversations about jazz with the filmmaker, who used to tune in to KJAZ whenever he was in the Bay Area. One of his favorite satellite TV channels was Mezzo, playing classical and jazz around the clock. While the genre didn't feature much in his films, one could argue that jazz for Marker, like cinema, was something both personal and political. His jazz-related writings for Esprit (“Du Jazz considere comme une prophetie”) and Le Journal des Allumés du Jazz seem to bear this out. Marker even made a small contribution to jazz literature by writing the narration for a documentary about Django Reinhardt directed by Paul Paviot, who'd previously produced Marker’s Sunday in Peking.

Thursday, 30 April 2020

David Meeker's Ten Favourite Jazz Films

Duke Ellington behind the scene of NBC's What Is Jazz? (1958) episode#1 [Source: GettyImages]

David Meeker, the author of Jazz in the Movies (and its online, massively updated version, Jazz on the Screen, available on the website of the Library of Congress), has been kind enough to furnish me with the list of his favourite jazz films. I don't think anyone in the world has seen as many jazz films as David has and certainly no-one has bothered spending years retrieving information (including song lists and personnel) from these films, compiling the indispensable encyclopedia that he has given us. For that reason, I think this list should be cherished more than other similar listings — this is the work of a man who has almost seen everything! - EK 



By my reckoning the first ever sound film of a jazz performance was produced in 1922, a short featuring pianist Eubie Blake. Therefore, faced with almost 100 years of world cinema and taking a degree of masochistic pleasure in sticking my neck out I have managed with considerable difficulty to reduce untold millions of feet of celluloid to a necessarily subjective choice of 10 favourite titles, undoubtedly quirky but hopefully not pretentious. Try and see them if you can - they all have much to offer both intellectually and emotionally.
David Meeker

Thursday, 11 May 2017

Jazz as Visual Language [Book Review]

Director Gjon Mili on the set of Jammin the Blues with bassist Red Callender and saxophonist Lester Young
Developing alongside cinema in the twentieth century, recorded jazz, like film, epitomised art in the age of mechanical reproduction. The two art forms complemented each other too. “Jazz was never just a music,” Nicolas Pillai claims in Jazz as Visual Language, “live performance promised spectacle.” In this regard, cinema helped us to better understand jazz; to see Thelonious Monk playing for instance, the gestures made with his elbows and feet, is a fundamental part of the jazz experience.



Tuesday, 9 May 2017

6 Book Reviews (2015-2016)


چند پیشنهاد از کتاب‌های سینمایی تازه منتشر شده (2016)
بعضی از چیزهایی که نمی‌دانیم
احسان خوشبخت

این فقط فیلم‌ها نیستند که دنیای سینما را می‌سازند؛ بدون کتاب‌های سینمایی دنیای سینما ژرفا و شگفتی‌ای که امروز دارد را هرگز به دست نمی‌آورد. بنابراین هر مروری بر یک سال سینمایی بدون مرور کتاب‌هایش کاری از اساس ناتمام است. اما امیدوارم همه در این مورد یک‌زبان باشیم که عنوان «بهترین‌ها» یا «برگزیده» که این روزها مشتری زیادی جلب می‌کند در صادقانه‌ترین شکل ممکن و تازه اگر دانشی پشت‌اش باشد فقط حاصل برخوردهای گذرای همان انتخاب کننده است. این فهرست کتاب‌های محبوب یا مهم از سال گذشته از این قاعده مستثنی نیست و به هیچ وجه نباید با «بهترین» یا حتی «مهم‌ترین» اشتباه گرفته شود، اگرچه بیش‌ترشان در فهرست آثار محبوب دیگران هم ظاهر شده‌اند.

Tuesday, 24 January 2017

Jazz Film in Iran - A First Time Retrospective



The centenary of jazz is being celebrated in a place you would least expect: Iran. 

A mini retrospective of jazz films, currently playing at the Cinematheque of The Museum of Contemporary Art in Tehran, is the first time ever in post-revolutionary Iran.

The Museum famous for its priceless collection of modernist art (including works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Kandinsky, Pollack and many more) and also recently in the news due to cancellation of a major exhibition in Berlin, hosts a cozy, popular cinema inside its stylishly beautiful building. The cinematheque, shut down for 7 years, was reopened recently, with an array of nicely curated seasons.

Thursday, 19 November 2015

Jazz Goes to the Movies in Ankara


Jazz Goes to the Movies, a programme curated by Jonathan Rosenbaum and I for Bologna's Il Cinema Ritrovato will be playing in Ankara and two other Turkish cities from next week.

Another jazz/film-related event would be an exhibitions of the comic illustrations about jazz films by me (as writer) and Naiel Ibarrola (as illustrator). After our first exhibition at Tehran's Aun Gallery, the Allye Berger exhibition hall in Ankara will host our work from November 26 to December 2, 2015.

Back to the screenings, the films that will be played on November 29, are free admission. These are the titles and their order of screening, starting from 14:15
(CLICK ON THE HYPERLINKS TO ACCESS THE REVIEW OF THE FILM)

Black and Tan Fantasy (1929)
Cab Calloway’s hi-de-ho (1934)
Jammin’ the Blues (1944)
Pete Kelly’s Blues (1955)
Begone Dull Care (1949)
Big Ben: Ben Webster in Europe (1967)
When It Rains (1995)
Too Late Blues (1961)

Each film will be introduced either by me or Jonathan.



Monday, 1 June 2015

Cinema at 33 1/3 RPM


Ten jazz takes on film music that prove the interconnectedness of the two art forms.
Read/listen here.

Jazz music has long expressed its capacity to borrow from various, sometimes contradictory sources in order to create something which in every sense transcends the original elements. Since the earliest days of jazz as a musical form, it has been inspired by military and funeral marches; has stylishly interpreted popular songs; and even brought the classical intricacies of Wagner into the domain of swinging brasses and reeds. This multiculturalism and eclecticism of jazz likens it to cinema which, in turn, has transformed pop culture motifs into something close to the sublime and mixed ‘high’ and ‘low’ artistic gestures to remarkable effect.

In the history of jazz, the evolution from ragtime or traditional tunes, to discovering the treasure trove of Broadway songs was fast and smooth. The latter influence was shared by cinema, as the history of film production quickly marched on. The emergence of ‘talkies’ in the United States meant rediscovering Broadway, its stars and directors and above all its musicals and their songs. In the 1930s, jazz became the incontestable rival of cinema in extracting tunes from the American theatre and transforming them into immortal standards. Both arts, film and jazz, used popular songs as a structuring framework, around which band leaders, musicians, directors and choreographers could develop more sophisticated and daring ideas.

Just as the emergence of television began to make itself felt at picture houses across the States, where declining attendance figures reflected a shift in the culture, jazz experienced a similar deadlock which contributed to the decline of the big bands. The effects of the war for returning Americans, and the new possibilities for enjoying entertainment in the home gave rise to very different strategies of survival: The film studios began to produce more sumptuous, glossy and costlier motion pictures to overshadow television, while jazz bands were downsized, becoming more intimate – or “indie”, if you like. Instead of big bands, modest outfits of three to six musicians was jazz’s answer to the times. In this respect, one might find the origins of John Cassavetes and 1960s independent cinema not only in Hollywood, but in Coleman Hawkins Quartet.

Cinema, for a very short time, managed to beat the odds with the help of Cinemascope, stereophonic sound, majestic scores and other gimmicks which expanded the affective potential of the big screen. After the invention and popularity of 331/3 rpm discs, releasing film music on LPs became a good source of income too. This market blossomed in the 1960s; in some cases, it was not only music but dialogue from the films that were presented on record (Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Romeo and Juliette). Jazz labels took note, and saw no reason to deprive themselves of such guaranteed success. Soon the themes from films were added to an expanding repertoire. Bringing film music to jazz wasn’t only a trend in keeping with the change in the public’s taste, but also a challenge for the musicians’ creativity in harmonic innovations and free improvisation – the way it had started two decades before, with Broadway songs.

The ten jazz takes on film music that I have selected here, rather than being a case of one art form riding the coattails of the other, prove the interconnectedness of the two and a motivating force that they both passionately share: creating images.

Tuesday, 16 December 2014

Swing in Darkness: Interviewing Ekkehard Wölk


This interview with silent film accompanist and jazz piano master Ekkehard Wölk was originally published on Film International. The Farsi version appeared on Film Monthly and the online publication, on Silent Era where it is has been accessible for the last 4 years.

Ekkehard Wölk is a German pianist, arranger, composer, and accompanist for silent films. His style consists of a personal interpretation of classical music from a jazz improviser's view. He has composed music scores for several German silent films, two of which, Secrets of a Soul (G.W. Pabst, 1926) and The Finances of the Grand Duke (F. W. Murnau, 1924), are currently available on DVD (released by Kino International).

Wölk was born on 14 June 1967 in Schleswig, Germany, and began his piano training at the age of seven in the classical tradition of Leschetitzky and his famous adepts Artur Schnabel and Edwin Fischer. After graduating from high school, in 1987, he studied historical and systematic musicology at the University of Hamburg and continued his scholarship at the Humboldt University in Berlin.

From 1988 Wölk studied classical piano at the conservatories in Hamburg and Lubeck, graduating in 1994 as a concert pianist and music pedagogue. Ekkehard wrote his first jazz compositions at the age of twenty-two, and at first, his primary jazz influence was Bill Evans, but he later also studied Bud Powell, McCoy Tyner, Thelonious Monk, Ahmad Jamal, Art Tatum, and specifically Fred Hersch who, many years later, became his master teacher in New York City.

In 1995, Wölk moved to Berlin and worked as a composer and bandleader, developing creative projects mostly in the jazz field. He has worked as a jazz and classical teacher, as an arranger, and as a flexible accompanist for many jazz singers, as well as in the classical and musical show genres. He has also worked in theatre as an accompanist, notably, for the Brecht Theatre Berliner Ensemble.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

My Top 10 Documentaries (The Sight & Sound Poll)

Forugh Farrokhzad directing The House Is Black (1962)

From the September issue of Sight & Sound:


1
The Sound of Jazz (Jack Smight, 1957)

This is the greatest improvised documentary ever, and features a super-stellar line-up of 32 leading jazz musicians gathered at the CBS Studio in New York City in December 8, 1957. It was made in one hour and broadcast live on television. Cameramen were as into ad-libing as Thelonious Monk, and when Billie Holiday and Lester Young started to play Fine and Mellow everybody in the control room was crying.

2
Quince Tree of the Sun (Victor Erice, 1992)

Documentary cinema as meditation. No film, fiction or documentary, has captured the meticulous, painfully stagnant process of artistic creation with such rich expansion of cinematic time and space.


3
Shoah (Claude Lanzmann, 1985)

There is a logical, aesthetic and moral relation between the scale of the tragedy and the length of the film, which leaves a lasting physiological and psychological impact on the viewer.

4
Histoire(s) du cinéma (Jean-Luc Godard, 1988)

A multi-dimensional, free-form history of 20th century which proves all one needs is some ideas and an editing table, because the images are already out there.

5
The House Is Black (Forugh Farrokhzad, 1962)

The crowning achievement of Iranian documentary movement of the 60s and 70s, and singular in its hypnotic melancholy, its profound humanism and its poetic imagery.


6
Hôtel Terminus: The Life and Times of Klaus Barbie (Marcel Ophüls, 1988)

This film taught me the methodology of cinematic inquiry, as well as lessons in persistence and integrity. In every documentary Ophüls has ever directed, he proves that cinema is, above all, a machine of humanism, if one knows how to use it.

7
Robinson in Space (Patrick Keiller, 1997)

My traveling guide to Britain. Behind its cold, bureaucratic, un-poetic shots, lie a majestic world of complex emotions.

8
Lektionen in Finsternis (Werner Herzog, 1992)

I was born and raised during the Iran-Iraq war, and every bit of the horrendous landscape portrayed on this film is also carved in my memory. What Herzog with his hel(l)i-shots does is to dive into that collective memory shared by millions who were inside that hell.

9
P for Pelican (Parviz Kimiavi, 1972)

A haunting and stylized mediation on solitude, beauty and language through the story of a real-life protagonist, Agha Seyyed Ali Mirza, who’s been living in the ruins of the earthquake-shaken Tabas for forty years. A day arrives when he has to leave the ruins and face the great, strange, Lynch-like beauty: a pelican!

10
The Battle of Chile (Patricio Guzmán, 1976)

The film’s bleak transition from the hope and ardor of the first part to the harrowing shot-from-the-rooftop second section, tells not only of the history of Chile, but also of the process of toppling other democratic governments in 20th century (namely, Iran of 1953).

Sound of Jazz (1957)

Notes:

In order to narrow down the range of choices, I exclude documentaries if an experimental nature such as great city symphonies of the late silent era, as well as actor-less fiction films such as Soy Cuba.

There are many jewels of documentary cinema hidden in the vaults of TV stations. In that regard, Cinéastes de notre temps, a French produced-for-TV film-portrait of masters of cinema, of which only a few titles are available to the public, is the greatest film university one can attend, as well as a perfect example of a masterpiece produced by filmmakers whose names are not yet in the canon.

As a trained architect who has designed, written and filmed about architecture and cinema, I still feel there are many unexplored territories in this field, and that many great films are waiting to be made. However, it doesn’t mean overlooking what’s already been done, especially works of Thom Andersen, Hiroshi Teshigahara, Man Ray and Alexander Kluge.

Lastly, there are directors whose body of work has influenced me more than any single film. Georges Franju’s early work, Fredrick Wiseman and Chris Marker are among them. Kamran Shirdel’s clandestine documentation of the lives of unprivileged in pre-revolutionary Iran, in particular, stands out.

P Like Pelikan (1972)

Sunday, 4 May 2014

Actors Sing!


يازده ستارۀ سينما كه آواز خواندند
آوازه‌خوان، نه آواز

وقتي ستاره‌هاي سينما حوصله‌شان از جلوي دوربين نقش بازي كردن سرمي‌رود تصميم‌هاي تازه‌اي مي‌گيرند و سعي مي‌كنند استعدادشان را در چيزهايي ديگر بيازمايند. بعضي پشت دوربين مي‌روند و كارگرداني مي‌كنند. بعضي نقاشي مي‌كنند (كيم نوواك اخيراً نمايشگاهي از نقاشي‌هايش داشت. آن‌ها فاجعه‌اند)؛ بعضي باغباني و بعضي آشپزي (وينست پرايس، اين شاهزادۀ ظلمت، در مواقع بيكاري در برنامه‌هاي آشپزي ظاهر مي‌شد) را انتخاب مي‌كنند. بعضي‌هايش نقش بازي كردن را در سياست ادامه مي‌دهند (رانالد ريگان، سرجيو نيكلايسكو) و بعضي مي‌زنند زير آواز. در دستۀ آخر خيلي‌هايشان كمابيش در دستۀ آوازهاي بداهه زيردوشي قرار مي‌گيرند كه فقط به گوش خودِ خواننده خوش مي‌آيد، اما بعضي حرف‌هاي بيش‌تر يا نت‌هاي بيش‌تر براي خواندن دارند.

Wednesday, 23 April 2014

The Sound of Jazz (1957)

انتخابی شخصی از «عصرطلایی تلویزیون»: صداي جاز
جک اسمایت کارگردانی را از تلویزیون شروع کرد و در سینما با وجود یکی دو فیلم قابل توجه مثل هارپر (1966) باشركت پل نيومن - موفقیتی کسب نکرد. برای همین از آغاز دهه 1970 دوباره به خانه قدیمی‌اش در جعبه جادویی برگشت. او در 1957 شاهكاری را برای تلویزیون کارگردانی کرده که تا زمانی که تصویر باقی بماند باقي ماندن نام او را بیمه خواهد کرد. عنوان برنامه صدای جاز است، برنامه‌ای یك ساعته برای شبکه CBS با حضور غول‌های جاز مانند كنت بیسی، لستر یانگ، بن وبستر، بیلی هالیدی، جری مولیگان، تلانيوس مانك، جیمی جیوفری، پی وی راسل، هنری ردآلن و ویك دیكنسون، همه در زیر یك سقف، كه باعث شده به اثر اسمایت لقب «بزرگ‌ترین فیلم جاز جهان» را بدهند.

Monday, 28 October 2013

On Bridges-Go-Around (1958)

Bridges-Go-Around (1958), made by one of the forerunner Jazz Film artists of all time, Shirley Clarke, is a short film, or more precisely two shorts in one. Composed of a series of shots from New York bridges, the film, in its first half, is edited and synced with the music of Teo Macero. For the second half, the very same images, as the first half, are repeated, but this time they are accompanied by the electronic music of Louis and Bebe Barron. So Bridges-Go-Around is a film which is played twice, but each projection, thanks to specific effects created by each musical genre, gives a distinctive impression and even the meaning of the images change and assiduously contrast/complete/comment on the other half. 

Wednesday, 3 July 2013

Miles Ahead

آسانسور، جاز و شبي زمستاني
يك آمريكايي (با يك ترومپت) در پاريس
احسان خوش‌بخت

قبل از هرچيز، قبل از لويي مال و حتي قبل از ژن مورو، مايلز ديويس است كه آسانسور به سوي سكوي اعدام را راه مي‌اندازد، يا در واقع آن را، و زمان را، براي موريس رونه و ما متوقف مي‌كند. اولين نُت مايلز روي تاريكي پرده سينما شنيده مي‌شود و بعد نماي آيريسي مثل فيلم‌هاي صامت از چشم‌هاي ژان مورو به كلوزآپي از او در كيوسك تلفن باز مي‌شود. اما حتي بازترين نماي اين عنوان‌بندي هم نشاني از حصر و تنهايي دارد. دريغ از ديده شدنِ حتي گوشي تلفن؛ همه چيز در جهت خيره‌شدن و ستودن مورو سامان يافته. تكرارِ je t'aime كه از هر دو سو گفته مي‌شود مثل نت‌هاي مكمل موسيقي فيلم، سازي مضاعف، عمل مي‌كند. اين آغاز نسخۀ اسپانياييِ آسانسور است كه از نسخۀ اصلي زودتر موسيقي را آغاز مي‌كند (در نسخۀ اصلي، موسيقي بعد از باز شدن نما و كات به موريس رنه مي‌آيد). موسيقي ترومپت‌نواز، آهنگساز و رهبر اركستر سياه‌پوست آمريكايي، مايلز ديويس (1991-1926) ، براي اين فيلم اثري است رمزآميز، محزون، شاعرانه و تكرار نشده در تاريخِ سينما. 

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Revisiting 5 Favorite Jazz Films with Comics


If cinema itself has been freewheeling in its use and abuse of other art forms to show what influential critic Raymond Durgnat calls “the impossible,” why, when it comes to talking about films, should we be limited to literary forms of expression?

That’s the question illustrator and co-author Naiel Ibarrola and I asked ourselves before launching into a new form of film criticism using the comic format to tell our alternative history of cinema, a project that’s occupied us since last year.

The great thing about comics, as a medium, is the endless freedom you have in playing with elements of time and space, building up scenes, putting people in one place talking to each other, where in reality they had been thousands of miles away and never spoken the same language. Hence the comic, like cinema, becomes the art of the impossible. The comic imitates the cinema. So far, we have used the illustrations to show how a Raoul Walsh composition is realized; how an imaginary conversation between Yasujiro Ozu and Fritz Lang takes place in a dingy French café; and to fulfill many other cinephilic fantasies through ideas, colors and drawings. Now we want to share some of them with you.


Monday, 8 April 2013

In Memoriam: Les Blank (1935-2013)


Les Blank, a fascinating individual and director of some remarkably personal documentaries passed away yesterday. I hardly have anything to say about him, at least worthy of his long and adventurous career, since I knew his ouvre only sporadically. However, I hope the stream of obituaries following his death would serve the purpose of shedding light on the career of  the man "whose sly, sensuous and lyrical documentaries about regional music and a host of other idiosyncratic subjects, including Mardi Gras, gaptoothed women, garlic and the filmmaker Werner Herzog, were widely admired by critics and other filmmakers if not widely known by moviegoers."

Here, I'll draw your attention to one of Blank's very early films, which happens to be one of the best jazz films produced under the umbrella of independent, ciné-vérité movement of the 1960s. Les Blank made many films about music, including The Blues Accordin' to Lightnin' Hopkins (1968), of course if one doesn't mention incorporating jazz and blues music in his non-musical films. During five tireless decades of film-making, the portrait of Dizzy Gillespie stands out as probably one of Blank's most accomplished cinematographic discovery of music and musical ideas.