Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers musicals have the appeal of light reflected from a December snowflake that has fallen precisely half the distance from the streetlamp to the curb. In my mind, that curb is on the north side of the Met with a peripheral view of the Egyptian wing.
Art and culture finds itself in a place beyond deconstructionism. We’ve entered The Age of Quantum Irony. The mainstream continues to inflate the pop postmodernism trend of the 1990’s to its bloated red giant of a conclusion. Hollywood never fails to cannibalize its truest love, itself.
Does the world end with a bang or a whimper or something more paralytic? Will it end in an apocalyptic conflagration, or will the processes of modern lifethe alienation at the core of any industrialized media-driven societybe the insidious force that leaves us open mouthed but stifled, desperate to scream and unable to produce any sound, including a whimper?
Docs In Sight
A recent TV ad expresses perfectly a new model of content delivery. Myriad hipsters lounge in airports, under outdoor sculptures, and on grassy knolls enraptured with the personal video experience on their cell phone.
Kitsch, Camp, sexploitation, severed limbs, police brutality; Beatniks young and old, video poems, film diaries; punks, drag queens: all of these and much more, Lower East side film.