Why Movies Don’t Feel Like Movies Anymore: The Rise of Metamodernist Films, and How They Grew Out of Modernism & Postmodernism

Say what you will about Jok­er; it did, at least, feel like a real movie, which is hard­ly true of many, if not most, of the influ­en­tial fea­ture films that have come out since. Yes, they run between 80 and 180 min­utes, and yes, they were screened in the­aters (though increas­ing­ly many view­ers have opt­ed to stream them at home), but despite their often con­sid­er­able enter­tain­ment val­ue, they some­how nev­er quite sat­is­fy. If they feel weight­less to us, even triv­ial — shot through with not just irony and self-ref­er­ence, but also jar­ring laps­es into emo­tion­al kitsch — that must owe in large part to the impres­sion that their cre­ators don’t quite take their own art form seri­ous­ly. Film­mak­ers sure­ly still want to believe in film, but can’t be seen believ­ing in it too strong­ly: this is the dilem­ma of our meta-mod­ern age.

“Just in the year 2022, we saw Nope, which crit­i­cizes spec­ta­cle even as it tries to be one; The Ban­shees of Insh­erin, which is in dia­logue with itself about the val­ue of art; we saw Steven Spiel­berg look­ing back at his own life in The Fabel­mans, and exam­in­ing the role cin­e­ma has played in it for both good and bad — through cin­e­ma.” Thomas Flight names these pic­tures as exam­ples in his new video essay on meta-moder­ni­ty, a term of recent enough coinage to require def­i­n­i­tion from a vari­ety of angles. “It seems like there’s very lit­tle straight­for­ward sto­ry­telling in film any­more,” he says. “Movies are either part of a mul­ti­di­men­sion­al fran­chise or are satir­i­cal, sur­re­al, or absurd. They might con­tain a mul­ti­verse or twists on a clas­sic trope, break sto­ry­telling con­ven­tion, or some com­bi­na­tion of all these things.”

No sin­gle pro­duc­tion pulls as many of these tricks as last year’s Acad­e­my Awards-dom­i­nat­ing Every­thing Every­where All at Once (the sub­ject of a pre­vi­ous Thomas Flight video essay). As much a zeit­geist pic­ture of the ear­ly twen­ty-twen­ties as Jok­er was of the late twen­ty-tens, it shows us where cin­e­ma has arrived — for bet­ter or for worse — after its near­ly cen­tu­ry-and-a-half long jour­ney through mod­ernism, post-mod­ernism, and now meta-mod­ernism. Mod­ernism, as Flight defines it, pro­motes “an objec­tive view of real­i­ty” and “dis­plays spe­cif­ic val­ues, and then unapolo­get­i­cal­ly seems to argue for those val­ues as good and ben­e­fi­cial.” When those val­ues were even­tu­al­ly called into ques­tion, post-mod­ernism arose “to ques­tion the val­ue of nar­ra­tive itself.” Here Flight quotes films like Apoc­a­lypse Now, F For Fake, Blade Run­ner, Blue Vel­vet, Bar­ton Fink, Pulp Fic­tion, sug­gest­ing that post-mod­ernism was very good indeed for cin­e­ma, at least at first.

But “irony, pas­tiche, sur­re­al­ism, and self-reflex­iv­i­ty” inevitably hit the sat­u­ra­tion point; “you can only sub­vert expec­ta­tions so many times before the new expec­ta­tion becomes that expec­ta­tions will be sub­vert­ed, and it all starts to get a lit­tle bit old.” As post-mod­ernism respond­ed to mod­ernism, so meta-mod­ernism responds to post-mod­ernism, attempt­ing to lay claim to the pow­er of both cul­tur­al peri­ods at once. We see this in Quentin Taran­ti­no’s Once Upon a Time… in Hol­ly­wood, as well as most of the oeu­vre of Wes Ander­son — but also in a lot of “swing­ing wild­ly back and forth between mod­ernist sin­cer­i­ty and post­mod­ern decon­struc­tion,” lit­tle of it more con­vinc­ing than the lat­est CGI extrav­a­gan­za extrud­ed by any giv­en super­hero fran­chise. Still, it’s ear­ly day in our era of meta-moder­ni­ty; when its arts reach matu­ri­ty, per­haps we’ll won­der how we ever saw the world before them.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Fos­ter Wal­lace on What’s Wrong with Post­mod­ernism: A Video Essay

Steal Like Wes Ander­son: A New Video Essay Explores How Wes Ander­son Pays Art­ful Trib­ute to Alfred Hitch­cock, Ing­mar Bergman & Oth­er Direc­tors in His Films

Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time… in Hol­ly­wood Exam­ined on Pret­ty Much Pop #12

How Rid­ley Scott’s Blade Run­ner Illu­mi­nates the Cen­tral Prob­lem of Moder­ni­ty

Niet­zsche and the Post­mod­ern Con­di­tion: A Free Phi­los­o­phy Course by Rick Rod­er­ick

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Patton Oswalt to William & Mary’s Graduating Class: “You Poor Bastards,” “You Do Not Have a Choice But to Be Anything But Extraordinary”

Pat­ton Oswalt, William & Mary, Class of 1991, grad­u­at­ed with a 2.8 GPA “into a world full of triv­ia and silli­ness and fun.”

The Class of 2023, he observed in a recent keynote address at his alma mater, is poised to enter a “hellscape where you will have to fight for every scrap of your human­i­ty and dig­ni­ty.”

The come­di­an sea­soned his speech with jokes, but its “hard truth” is one that could find favor with activist Gre­ta Thun­berg — name­ly that the inat­ten­tion, apa­thy, and blithe waste­ful­ness of his gen­er­a­tion, and all gen­er­a­tions that came before have sad­dled today’s young peo­ple with a seri­ous­ly messed up plan­et:

Your con­cerns as you stum­ble out into real­i­ty tomor­row are mas­sive. Democ­ra­cy is crum­bling. Truth is up for grabs. The planet’s try­ing to kill us and lone­li­ness is dri­ving every­one insane.

The good news?

Your gen­er­a­tion has rebelled against every bad habit of mine and every gen­er­a­tion that came before it. Every­thing that we let cal­ci­fy, you have kicked against and demol­ished.

He sees a stu­dent body will­ing to bat­tle apa­thy, alien­ation, and cru­el­ty, who insist on inclu­sion and open­ness about men­tal health.

(By con­trast he was a “lit­tle daf­fodil” who angri­ly took his Physics for Poets prof to task for hav­ing com­mit­ted an inac­cu­ra­cy involv­ing Star Trek’s chain of com­mand on the final exam.)

The for­mer Eng­lish major man­gles a quote from author Ger­ald Kirsch’s 1938 short sto­ry Bus­to is a Ghost, Too Mean to Give Us a Fright!

The real quote is:

…there are men whom one hates until a cer­tain moment when one sees, through a chink in their armour, the writhing of some­thing nailed down and in tor­ment.

The para­phrased sen­ti­ment retains its pow­er, how­ev­er, and his slop­py fact check­ing squares with his por­tray­al of him­self as a lack­adaisi­cal B- stu­dent.

Return­ing to cam­pus 32 years lat­er as a suc­cess­ful writer, actor and come­di­an, he exhorts the most aca­d­e­m­ic mem­bers of the Class of 2023 to take a cue from their peers whose GPAs were less than stel­lar, “the day­dream­ers, the con­fused, and the seek­ers:”

There are peo­ple out there who want to man­age every moment. They want to divvy up every dream, and they want to com­mod­i­fy every crazy cre­ative caprice that springs out of your cra­ni­um. Don’t let them. Be human in all of its bed­lam and beau­ty and mad­ness and mer­cy for as long as you can and in any way you can.

He may have dashed off his address in his hotel room the night before the cer­e­mo­ny, but he dri­ves his point home with an inge­nious Hol­ly­wood insid­er ref­er­ence that may send the entire class of 2023, their fam­i­lies, pro­fes­sors, and you, dear read­er, rush­ing to view (or revis­it) the 1982 sci fi clas­sic, Blade Run­ner.

As to why Oswalt mer­its the hon­orary degree William & Mary con­ferred on him, fel­low alum and Ted Las­so showrun­ner Bill Lawrence has a the­o­ry:

I guess it’s because he didn’t real­ly deserve the degree he got when he was here.

via Boing­Bo­ing

Relat­ed Con­tent 

John Waters’ RISD Grad­u­a­tion Speech: Real Wealth Is Life With­out A*Holes

‘This Is Water’: Com­plete Audio of David Fos­ter Wallace’s Keny­on Grad­u­a­tion Speech (2005)

“Wear Sun­screen”: The Sto­ry Behind the Com­mence­ment Speech That Kurt Von­negut Nev­er Gave

– Ayun Hal­l­i­day is the Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine and author, most recent­ly, of Cre­ative, Not Famous: The Small Pota­to Man­i­festo and Cre­ative, Not Famous Activ­i­ty Book. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Jonathan Demme Turns the Kurt Vonnegut Story, “Who Am I This Time?,” Into a TV Movie, with Susan Sarandon & Christopher Walken in Starring Roles (1982)

Back in 1982, the PBS Amer­i­can Play­house series aired Jonathan Dem­me’s made-for-TV film based on the Kurt Von­negut sto­ry, “Who Am I This Time?” Now, thanks to the YouTube chan­nel Chick­en Soup for the Soul TV, you can watch the rarely-seen film online. The chan­nel writes:

Mix togeth­er a small town com­mu­ni­ty the­atre’s shy lead­ing man and the love­ly tele­phone work­er who moves into town and you have a per­fect recipe for a delight­ful roman­tic com­e­dy. Acad­e­my Award-win­ners Susan Saran­don and Christo­pher Walken star as the cou­ple who dis­cov­er that affairs of the heart on the stage may be a bit less com­pli­cat­ed than con­tin­u­ing the romance off the stage. Direc­tor Jonathan Demme, an Acad­e­my Award-win­ner, deft­ly weaves this endear­ing tale of love in bloom from Kurt Von­negut, Jr.‘s sto­ry.

While the video qual­i­ty is grainy, the movie is still sig­nif­i­cant for serv­ing as an ear­ly career vehi­cle for Saran­don, Walken and direc­tor Demme. This isn’t exact­ly ‘Before They Were Stars’ — after all, by 1982, Walken had already won an Oscar for “The Deer Hunter,”
Saran­don had already starred in “Rocky Hor­ror” and been nom­i­nat­ed for an Oscar for Atlantic City, and Demme, although still a decade away from his biggest work, had already direct­ed the acclaimed “Melvin & Howard.”

Watch oth­er com­plete films on the Chick­en Soup for the Soul TV Youtube Channel, or on their free-stand­ing web­site. Enjoy.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent 

4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More

Watch the New Trail­er for a Kurt Von­negut Doc­u­men­tary 40 Years In the Mak­ing

Kurt Vonnegut’s 8 Tips on How to Write a Good Short Sto­ry

Hear Christo­pher Walken’s Won­der­ful Read­ing of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”

Susan Saran­don Reads an Ani­mat­ed Ver­sion of Good Night Moon … With­out Cry­ing

Considering Rocky/Creed, Our Most Successful Sports Film Franchise — Pretty Much Pop: A Culture Podcast #149

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Your Pret­ty Much Pop hosts Mark Lin­sen­may­er, Lawrence Ware, Sarahlyn Bruck, and Al Bak­er talk through the ups and downs of this nine-film fran­chise that start­ed with Rocky, the high­est gross­ing film of 1976 and win­ner of that year’s Acad­e­my Award for Best Pic­ture. We’re espe­cial­ly con­cerned with this year’s Creed III, direct­ed by its star Michael B. Jor­dan, which is the first entry in the fran­chise that’s entire­ly free of Sylvester Stal­lone.

How can such an appar­ent­ly sim­ple for­mu­la (start as an under­dog, train, and win at least a moral vic­to­ry) stay fresh? Why was there a robot in Rocky IV? Is there any ratio­nale for an extend­ed, con­tin­u­ing Rocky-verse? Does enjoy­ing these films involve approv­ing of box­ing as a sport, or the glo­ri­fi­ca­tion of fic­tion­al sports heroes over real-life ones?

For var­i­ous arti­cles about things going on in the fran­chise, check out totalrocky.com. Sarahlyn men­tions the NPR pod­cast The Stat­ue.

Fol­low us @law_writes@sarahlynbruck@ixisnox@MarkLinsenmayer.

Hear more Pret­ty Much Pop. If you’re not sub­scribed to the pod­cast, you’re miss­ing lots of good episodes. Sup­port the show and hear bonus talk­ing for this and near­ly every oth­er episode at patreon.com/prettymuchpop or by choos­ing a paid sub­scrip­tion through Apple Pod­casts. This pod­cast is part of the Par­tial­ly Exam­ined Life pod­cast net­work.

Pret­ty Much Pop: A Cul­ture Pod­cast is the first pod­cast curat­ed by Open Cul­ture. Browse all Pret­ty Much Pop posts.

Watch Ben Kingsley Play Salvador Dalí in the Trailer for the New Film, Dalíland

By itself, the prospect of see­ing Sir Ben Kings­ley play Sal­vador Dalí would be enough to get more than a few movie­go­ers into the the­ater (or onto their couch­es, stream­ing). But then, so would the prospect of see­ing him play prac­ti­cal­ly any­one: Mahat­ma Gand­hi (as the Acad­e­my acknowl­edged), or Georges Méliès, or Dmitri Shostakovich, or a foul­mouthed Lon­don gang enforcer. Dalí­land, which comes out next month, promis­es a rich por­tray­al of Dalí not just by Kings­ley, but by also Ezra Miller, an actor pos­sessed of a phys­i­cal resem­blance to the artist in his youth as well as a pub­lic life seen as scan­dalous and occa­sion­al­ly crim­i­nal.

This choice of cast­ing, with the trou­bled Miller play­ing the young Dalí and the ultra-respectable Kings­ley play­ing the old, reflects a cer­tain intent to cap­ture the dual­i­ty of the char­ac­ter him­self. Kings­ley has spo­ken of devel­op­ing his inter­pre­ta­tion of Dalí “based on his lan­guage; his behav­ior; his taste in love, life, food, wine, and every­thing; and also his dar­ing to break so many rules.”

You can hear him reflect more on the expe­ri­ence in the Dead­line Hol­ly­wood video just below. “I love his work,” he says. “I love his fear­less­ness, and he was exhil­a­rat­ing and exhaust­ing to play, as I antic­i­pat­ed he would be.” He also has high praise for direc­tor Mary Har­ron, who’s known for her adap­ta­tion of Bret Eas­t­on Ellis’ Amer­i­can Psy­cho.

Har­ron’s first fea­ture was I Shot Andy Warhol, about Warhol’s near-mur­der­er Valerie Solanas, and her most recent, Char­lie Says, tells the sto­ry of Leslie Van Houten and the Man­son fam­i­ly. Such pic­tures demon­strate her facil­i­ty with bio­graph­i­cal dra­ma, as well as her invest­ment in the cul­ture of post­war Amer­i­ca and the eccen­tric per­son­al­i­ties that both enlivened and dark­ened it. Dalí­land takes place in the win­ter of 1974, which Dalí and his wife Gala spent at the St. Reg­is Hotel in New York. Its pro­tag­o­nist, a young gallery employ­ee played by Christo­pher Briney, gets pulled into Dalí’s world and becomes respon­si­ble for mak­ing sure the artist has all the work ready for his fast upcom­ing show.

“The film’s sev­en­ties set­ting allows it to be a por­trait of the moment when the art world under­went its tec­ton­ic shift, fus­ing with the mon­ey cul­ture, becom­ing a kind of pig­gy bank for the wealthy,” writes Vari­ety’s Owen Gleiber­man. “Dalí and Gala have, in their way, played into this. They’re exploiters of Dalí’s leg­end who have, in turn, been exploit­ed.” At that time Dalí still had about fif­teen years to go, but Kings­ley sees the peri­od as “pos­si­bly the clos­ing chap­ters of Dalí’s life,” the set­ting of “his com­ing to terms with mor­tal­i­ty, a sub­ject with which he strug­gled dread­ful­ly.” The phe­nom­e­non wit­nessed by Briney’s char­ac­ter, and thus the audi­ence, is “how a genius leaves the world” — and, in this par­tic­u­lar case, leaves it con­sid­er­ably more sur­re­al than he found it.

Relat­ed con­tent:

A Soft Self-Por­trait of Sal­vador Dalí, Nar­rat­ed by the Great Orson Welles

Two Vin­tage Films by Sal­vador Dalí and Luis Buñuel: Un Chien Andalou and L’Age d’Or

Sir Ben Kings­ley Reads a Let­ter Writ­ten by Gand­hi to Hitler (in the Voice of Mahat­ma Gand­hi)

Sal­vador Dalí Strolls onto The Dick Cavett Show with an Anteater, Then Talks About Dreams & Sur­re­al­ism, the Gold­en Ratio & More (1970)

Watch: New Film by Roman Polan­s­ki, Star­ring Hele­na Bon­ham Carter, Sir Ben Kings­ley & Pra­da Shoes

Sal­vador Dalí on What’s My Line?

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The First-Ever Film Version of Lewis Carroll’s Tale, Alice in Wonderland (1903)

Once lost, this 8‑minute, very dam­aged, but very delight­ful silent ver­sion of Alice in Won­der­land was restored sev­er­al years ago by the British Film Insti­tute. It is the first film adap­ta­tion of the 1865 Lewis Car­roll clas­sic. And, at the time, the orig­i­nal length of 12 min­utes (only 8 min­utes sur­vive today) made it the longest film com­ing out of the nascent British film indus­try.

After about a minute, the eye ignores the dam­age of the film, like the ear ignores a scratched 78 rpm record. View­ers can expect sev­er­al vignettes from the nov­el, not a flow­ing nar­ra­tive. It starts with Alice fol­low­ing the White Rab­bit down the hole, the “eat me” and “drink me” sequence, the squeal­ing baby that turns into a piglet, the Cheshire Cat, the Mad Tea Par­ty, and the Red Queen and her play­ing card min­ions. The col­or­ing of the neg­a­tive is a BFI recon­struc­tion of the orig­i­nal col­ors, by the way.

The film was pro­duced and direct­ed by Cecil Hep­worth and Per­cy Stow out of their Hep­worth Stu­dios in Wal­ton-on-the-Thames, near Lon­don. They show knowl­edge of the cam­era trick­ery pio­neered only a few years ear­li­er by Georges Méliès, like the shrink­ing and grow­ing Alice and the appear­ance of the Cheshire Cat. That cat, by the way, was the Hepworth’s fam­i­ly pet. Hep­worth him­self plays the frog-head­ed foot­man, and his wife played the Red Queen.

May Clark, who played Alice, was 18 at the time, and had already worked on sev­er­al Hep­worth pro­duc­tions, and not just act­ing. Accord­ing to her bio at the Women Film Pio­neers project, she did a bit of every­thing around the stu­dio, “from spe­cial effects and set dec­o­ra­tion to cos­tume design and car­pen­try.” The ear­ly days of film have a real “stu­dent project” feel about them, no pigeon­holed roles, just every­body chip­ping in.

As for Cecil Hep­worth, he appeared des­tined for a career in film, as his father ran mag­ic lantern shows. Cecil worked for sev­er­al com­pa­nies before set­ting up his own and wrote one of the first books on the sub­ject, Ani­mat­ed Pho­tog­ra­phy: The ABC of the Cin­e­mato­graph. His com­pa­ny con­tin­ued to make films in this ear­ly style through 1926, but even­tu­al­ly ran out of mon­ey. To pay off debts, the receiver­ship com­pa­ny melt­ed down his films to get the sil­ver, which was the rea­son most schol­ars thought his films were lost. In 2008, one of his films was dis­cov­ered, and then “Alice.” There may still be oth­ers out there.

You can find Alice’s Adven­tures in Won­der­land list­ed in our oth­er col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2014.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Lewis Carroll’s Clas­sic Sto­ry, Alice’s Adven­tures in Won­der­land, Told in Sand Ani­ma­tion

Curi­ous Alice — The 1971 Anti-Drug Movie Based on Alice in Won­der­land That Made Drugs Look Like Fun

The Orig­i­nal Alice’s Adven­tures In Won­der­land Man­u­script, Hand­writ­ten & Illus­trat­ed By Lewis Car­roll (1864)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

A Star Wars Film Made in a Wes Anderson Aesthetic

Above, you can watch the Galac­tic Menagerie, “a whim­si­cal and visu­al­ly stun­ning fan-made fake trail­er that reimag­ines the clas­sic Star Wars uni­verse through the eccen­tric lens of Wes Ander­son. This enchant­i­ng mashup brings togeth­er icon­ic Star Wars char­ac­ters with Ander­son­’s trade­mark sym­met­ri­cal com­po­si­tions, pas­tel col­or palettes, and quirky humor.” There are also, of course, “pecu­liar loca­tions rem­i­nis­cent of Ander­son­’s beloved films such as Moon­rise King­dom and The Grand Budapest Hotel.” Enjoy!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Wes Ander­son Goes Sci-Fi in 1950s Amer­i­ca: Watch the Trail­er for His New Film Aster­oid City

Wes Ander­son Explains How He Writes and Directs Movies, and What Goes Into His Dis­tinc­tive Film­mak­ing Style

How the Aston­ish­ing Sushi Scene in Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs Was Ani­mat­ed: A Time-Lapse of the Month-Long Shoot

A Com­plete Col­lec­tion of Wes Ander­son Video Essays

Wes Anderson Re-Creates The Truman Show, Armageddon & Out of Sight as Stage Plays Performed by the Cast of Rushmore (1999)

Nom­i­nees of the 1999 MTV Movie Awards includ­ed Adam San­dler, Liv Tyler, Chris Tuck­er, and Jen­nifer Love Hewitt to men­tion just a few of the names in a ver­i­ta­ble who’s-who of turn-of-the-mil­len­ni­um Amer­i­can pop cul­ture. But for the teenage cinephiles watch­ing that night, the high­light of the broad­cast was sure­ly a set of brief skits per­formed by “the Max Fis­ch­er Play­ers.” Direct­ed by Wes Ander­son, who had been named Best New Film­mak­er dur­ing the cer­e­mo­ny of three years before, they present low-bud­get but high-spir­it­ed inter­pre­ta­tions of three of the motion pic­tures up for hon­ors: Out of Sight, The Tru­man Show, and Armaged­don.

Hav­ing been a teenage cinephile myself at the time, I can tell you that none of those movies made as much an impact on me as Ander­son­’s own Rush­more, which intro­duced the hyper-ambi­tious young slack­er Max Fis­ch­er to the world. In it, Max and his play­ers adapt Sid­ney Lumet’s Ser­pico, and lat­er put on an elab­o­rate (and explo­sive) pas­tiche of var­i­ous Viet­nam War pic­tures.

Twen­ty-five years ago, few of us had iden­ti­fied in the painstak­ing­ly ram­shackle look and feel of these pro­duc­tions the seed of what would grow into Ander­son­’s sig­na­ture aes­thet­ic. But it was clear that, if the Max Fis­ch­er Play­ers method were applied to the Hol­ly­wood block­busters of the day, amus­ing incon­gruity would result.

These skits promi­nent­ly fea­ture Mason Gam­ble and Sara Tana­ka, both of whom retired from act­ing a few years after giv­ing their mem­o­rable per­for­mances in Rush­more. But Jason Schwartz­man, who will no doubt for­ev­er be iden­ti­fied with Max Fis­ch­er, has remained an active mem­ber of Ander­son­’s own group of play­ers, and even plays a star­ring role once again in Ander­son­’s new film Aster­oid City, which comes out this sum­mer. The Max Fish­er Play­ers’ par­o­dies were includ­ed on the DVD of Rush­more released by the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion — an hon­or still denied, one might add, to the recip­i­ent of the 1999 MTV Movie Award for Best Movie, There’s Some­thing About Mary. (But not to Armaged­don, which just goes to show how unpre­dictable the favor of cinephil­ia can be.)

via Red­dit

Relat­ed con­tent:

Wes Anderson’s Break­through Film Rush­more Revis­it­ed in Five Video Essays: It Came Out 20 Years Ago Today

Wes Ander­son Explains How He Writes and Directs Movies, and What Goes Into His Dis­tinc­tive Film­mak­ing Style

Wes Anderson’s Shorts Films & Com­mer­cials: A Playlist of 8 Short Ander­son­ian Works

Wes Ander­son Goes Sci-Fi in 1950s Amer­i­ca: Watch the Trail­er for His New Film Aster­oid City

Why Do Wes Ander­son Movies Look Like That?

Watch the First Two Hours of MTV’s Inau­gur­al Broad­cast (August 1, 1981)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities, the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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