Then He Kissed Me

Adrian Martin and Cristina Álvarez López explore the joy and regret of nostalgia with one of the cinema’s great, spare poets of sense-memory.

PHANTASMAGORIA OF THE INTERIOR is an audiovisual essay devoted to Walerian Borowczyk's film THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MISS OSBOURNE. Utilising the materials of the complete, restored version of the film, and its French language soundtrack, the film offers a new way of looking at, understanding and appreciating Borowczyk's intensely cinematic art. Particular attention is paid to a painting by Vermeer of a pregnant woman, introduced early into Borowczyk's film, and reappearing at key moments. Beginning from this painting - its content, style, and historical background - particular aspects of the film are explored: its unusual pictorial compositions; the mingling of sexuality with violence; and the association of men and women with (respectively) open and closed spaces. The film argues that Borowczyk brings a surrealist sensibility to his free adaptation of the Jekyll and Hyde story, especially emphasizing the transgressive, revolutionary role of the free-spirited Lucy Osbourne.

An essay on how could Welles' Touch of Evil and his story about the border between USA and Mexico influence Trump's imagination.

"Our analysis of such a rich film should not be a rigid, either/or proposition. It remains for us, almost 55 years on from Contempt’s initial release, to fully grasp Godard’s modernist gestures, poised between a fullness of mythic and classical meaning, and the possibilities of a newly fragmented universe of signs."

a montage of a motif in Philippe Garrel's Cinema: walking.

With the release of Nicholas Ray's debut They Live by Night in 1948, a new style emerged in American narrative film. A style full of risk and confusion, based on a deliberately shaky balance of shots, cuts, scenes, gestures, events and acting. Ray was part of a generation that sought new forms of characterization, new forms of acting and behavior, new social inputs – and a new language in framing, mise-en-scene and montage to capture all those fleeting experiences.

An audiovisual essay by Cristina Álvarez López and Adrian Martin on F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu (1922).

"I guess you could say that this is a film about my birth. My mother told me once that my father became another person the moment I was born. I believe her because, if I try to remember a time when I might have felt any connection with my father, I can’t: it’s as if there was never any. When I look at my brother playing with his two year old kid, I feel that there was never any. When I listen to my mother talking about how depressed and isolated she was after my birth, I know there was never any. I’ve heard details about that period before, but I’ve never had a full-on narration by her to which I could re-listen. Women’s stories always look like nothing, like a bunch of crazy fantasies or silly talk—but those fantasies are all threaded with the ideas about womanhood by which mothers live and suffer and into which baby girls are born." https://laughmotel.wordpress.com/2021/08/05/birth/

An audiovisual essay on Douglas Sirk's The Tarnished Angel. Analyzes a central scene 40 minutes into the narrative, and also refers both backward and forward in order to show the film’s richly elaborated logic of part and whole, repetition and stasis, drama and entropy.

In 1979, film scholar Noël Burch strongly criticized the films from the 1950s by Japanese filmmaker Mikio Naruse. He would be stuck in a "western mode of representation", and his work would be "academic" and "over-edited". Maybe even almost like the soap operas on TV! What Burch failed to see is how Naruse transforms a seemingly simple decoupage into his secret form of mise-en-scene, with endless variations and modulations. Let's look at eighteen consecutive shots from Sound of the Mountain (1954)…

Adrian Martin and Cristina Álvarez López explore the joy and regret of nostalgia with one of the cinema’s great, spare poets of sense-memory.

PHANTASMAGORIA OF THE INTERIOR is an audiovisual essay devoted to Walerian Borowczyk's film THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MISS OSBOURNE. Utilising the materials of the complete, restored version of the film, and its French language soundtrack, the film offers a new way of looking at, understanding and appreciating Borowczyk's intensely cinematic art. Particular attention is paid to a painting by Vermeer of a pregnant woman, introduced early into Borowczyk's film, and reappearing at key moments. Beginning from this painting - its content, style, and historical background - particular aspects of the film are explored: its unusual pictorial compositions; the mingling of sexuality with violence; and the association of men and women with (respectively) open and closed spaces. The film argues that Borowczyk brings a surrealist sensibility to his free adaptation of the Jekyll and Hyde story, especially emphasizing the transgressive, revolutionary role of the free-spirited Lucy Osbourne.

An essay on how could Welles' Touch of Evil and his story about the border between USA and Mexico influence Trump's imagination.

"Our analysis of such a rich film should not be a rigid, either/or proposition. It remains for us, almost 55 years on from Contempt’s initial release, to fully grasp Godard’s modernist gestures, poised between a fullness of mythic and classical meaning, and the possibilities of a newly fragmented universe of signs."

a montage of a motif in Philippe Garrel's Cinema: walking.

With the release of Nicholas Ray's debut They Live by Night in 1948, a new style emerged in American narrative film. A style full of risk and confusion, based on a deliberately shaky balance of shots, cuts, scenes, gestures, events and acting. Ray was part of a generation that sought new forms of characterization, new forms of acting and behavior, new social inputs – and a new language in framing, mise-en-scene and montage to capture all those fleeting experiences.

An audiovisual essay by Cristina Álvarez López and Adrian Martin on F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu (1922).

In 1979, film scholar Noël Burch strongly criticized the films from the 1950s by Japanese filmmaker Mikio Naruse. He would be stuck in a "western mode of representation", and his work would be "academic" and "over-edited". Maybe even almost like the soap operas on TV! What Burch failed to see is how Naruse transforms a seemingly simple decoupage into his secret form of mise-en-scene, with endless variations and modulations. Let's look at eighteen consecutive shots from Sound of the Mountain (1954)…

An audiovisual essay on Douglas Sirk's The Tarnished Angel. Analyzes a central scene 40 minutes into the narrative, and also refers both backward and forward in order to show the film’s richly elaborated logic of part and whole, repetition and stasis, drama and entropy.