To watch Blow Out is to watch an artist confronting his deepest fears using the techniques and technology of the medium that had previously offered him salvation. That artist is John Travolta's Jack Terry. That artist is also Brian De Palma.
This is the story of Gawain: crashing through in-progress myths that don’t belong to him, brushing against gods. This is the story of Gawain, stumbling through the forest, his soul bared, searching: For himself, sure, but most importantly, for his legend.
When I recommend Hubie Halloween to you rabidly and over-zealously, when I hum with the sweet shocked shout of an Almond Joy with two almonds, what I mean is: at our most puerile and sensitive and fearful we are just as deserving of care as anybody else. Will you remember that?
As I walked up the steps to the Walter Reade theater, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph, my first day back on campus. Everyone was there! In line, tired, clutching cheap coffee and festival badges. Some people got haircuts. Even the grumps were buzzing, happy to finally have some place to be.
Our son watches more television than we’d planned; one of the many side effects of living in pandemic times. Coming from a media background in criticism and textual analysis, children’s entertainment drove me insane, but one day, something cracked open.
By keeping us insistently within Bauby's point of view, inside the diving bell, Julian Schnabel reminds us of the range of living and feeling still available to us, if we extend ourselves.