“Norman Bates, of course, was Marion’s costar in that scene. But Anthony Perkins had been let off for the week; he was safely on the East Coast when the shower scene was filmed. The knife-wielding Mother was a costumed double—stuntwoman Margo Epper. Hitchcock deployed slow motion to cover Leigh’s breasts—‘the slow shots,’ the director told Francois Truffaut, then ‘inserted in the montage so as to give an impression of normal speed.’ Leigh’s lifeless eye was optically enlarged in postproduction, according to Rebello’s book, ‘so that the orb appeared to be a perfect fit in the bathtub drain as his camera spiraled down the drain.’ All of Hitchcock’s long experience and magicianship went into these, his most spectacular forty-five seconds of terrifying illusion.”
Patrick McGilligan, Alfred Hitchcock: A Life in Darkness and Light
20th Century Music, Vol. 2 : Edwardian Pop
20th Century Music, Vol. 1 (from last week’s Locust St. 10th anniversary Twitter marathon: links to songs on tweets)
- Edge of Destruction is better than The Daleks
- The Rescue is better than The Dalek Invasion of Earth
- The Gunfighters is better than The Celestial Toymaker
- Power of the Daleks is better than everything, ever.
- Enemy of the World is better than Web of Fear
- The Mind Robber is better than The…
I’m a mostly unterrible person then. Mostly spot-on. I’ll just say:
20. this is the faintest of achievements. like “getting hit with a stick is better than being hit w/ an aluminum bat”
22. still pretty fucking embarrassing
26. Nope. It would make perfect sense if it had 1 or 2 more remotely expository scenes & had actors who enunciated a tad clearer (inc. Mr. Sylv). Seriously, man: I’ve read “The Recognitions” and found that more comprehensible than this serial was on its first go-round. I still don’t know who in hell “Ratkin” is, for example.
1. Boom Town’s grossly underrated.
6. I’m not going anywhere near this one, Mr. Grape
8. must we choose?
"What Did You Do in 1974?"
Albums/singles that Brian Eno recorded, treated, contributed to or produced in 1974.
If one’s to compare ’70s rock “supergroups” with ’70s comics super-teams, this one’s the equivalent of The Defenders.
Ha. Thank you. That paragraph was fun to write. Especially within the constraint of the Last War in Albion’s house style, where anything with a background will have that background explained, at least briefly. Which fits a little too well with Crisis on Infinite Earths’s house style, where anything that matters does so because of a lengthy background from other comics and not because it makes a bit of goddamn fucking sense on its own.
if anything can sum up the, er, “misplaced priorities” of superhero comics of this era, it’s that the storyline, taken on its face, is one of absolute horror—-the holocaust of hundreds of trillions of people, entire universes being wiped out—-and has no emotional impact. Instead, the reader is expected to have more emotional reaction to M. Wolfman giving a cameo appearance to some forgotten C-list superhero from the ’70s
From today’s installment of Last War in Albion
Among the joys of this cover:
1) Superman being an ass and lounging like a teenager in a church pew
2) bewildered face of the minister, who already had to deal with a guy cosplaying as a medieval torturer as a groom & now has to contend with the bride asking the world’s most powerful person to break up the wedding
3) the wedding guests. are they family of Titanman?
4) the tasteful, if funereal, flower arrangement
* Vladimir Nabokov, teaching his students how to read Kafka, pointed out to them that the insect into which Gregor Samsa is transformed is in fact a winged beetle, an insect that carries its wings under its armoured back, and that if Gregor had only discovered them, he would have been able to escape. And then Nabokov added: “Many a Dick and a Jane grow up like Gregor, unaware that they too have wings and can fly.
Epoch after epoch, Beethoven has been the composer of the march of time: from the revolutions of 1848 and 1849, when performances of the symphonies became associated with the longing for liberty; to the Second World War, when the opening notes of the Fifth were linked to the short-short-short-long Morse code for “V,” as in “victory”; and 1989, when Leonard Bernstein conducted the Ninth near the fallen Berlin Wall.
“We ourselves appear to become mythologized in the process of identifying with this music,” the scholar Scott Burnham has written. Yet the idolatry has had a stifling effect on subsequent generations of composers, who must compete on a playing field that was designed to prolong Beethoven’s glory. As a teenager, I contemplated becoming a composer; attending a concert at Symphony Hall, in Boston, I remember seeing, with wonder and dismay, the single name “Beethoven” emblazoned on the proscenium arch. “Don’t bother,” it seemed to say.
For this conundrum—an artist almost too great for the good of his art—Beethoven himself bears little responsibility. There is no sign that he intended to oppress his successors from the grave.
|—||Alex Ross, “Deus Ex Musica,” New Yorker, 20 October 2014.|