Cinecast Episode 202 – Obviously You’re Not a Golfer

 

It is a cornucopia, a smörgåsbord, a veritable potpourri of cinema, as the Cinecast regulars get together with nothing on the agenda other than to talk about what they have watched, in the cinema, on the DVD and streamed from the internet or (in an exciting technology development, from the Computer Hard Drive.) Andrew continues to dig into the Foreign Language Nominees with Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Biutiful. Kurt comes at Oscar a different way with the new documentary on the man with the midas touch when it comes to little gold men, Harvey Weinstein. And Gamble talks best animated film of 2011 with a preview of the flat out awesome Gore Verbinski/Nickelodeon/Industrial-Light-And-Magic Johnny Depp western, Rango. From there, we go from the occult, to Penelope Cruz DTV failures, to two vastly different takes time travel from the 1980s to Chinese shopping malls. Then it is onto Romans wandering about Scotland, Aussie crime dynasties and suburban teenage prostitution rings! It is all a part of your complete breakfast.

As always, please join the conversation by leaving your own thoughts in the comment section below and again, thanks for listening!


 
 

 

To download the show directly, paste the following URL into your favorite downloader:
http://rowthree.com/audio/cinecast_11/episode_202.mp3

ALTERNATIVE (no music track):
http://rowthree.com/audio/cinecast_11/episode_202-alt.mp3

 
 
Full show notes are under the seats…
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Review: Unauthorized: The Harvey Weinstein Project

I remember when I was attending university in Waterloo, Ontario back in 1993 and going to the Princess repertory cinema for a screening of The Advocate. This was a strange little film about a lawyer defending a pig (on murder charges) a court of law in 15th Century rural France. The lawyer was played by none other than Colin Firth, and he is admirably supported by Ian Holm, Donald Pleasence, Nicol Williamson and the leading lady from both Krull and Without A Clue (that would by Lysette Anthony). Coming out of the cinema, I vividly remember overhearing someone remark, “Yes, that was a Miramax film.” I had been vaguely aware of the label, if only because I was a big fan of Reservoir Dogs and was thoroughly bemused by Sex Lies and Videotape and The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, both of those lengthily titled films along with the rising star of Quentin Tarantino bore the label for the film-company which would break out into the big-time in only a few short months with the $100 million hit, Pulp Fiction; a first for the indie filmmaking world. Even then, people, at least the folks who attended art-house cinemas, were aware of the prolific release of ‘adult art pictures sold in large part on sexual titillation’ by the Weinstein Brothers, Harvey and Bob.

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