The Film Doctor's third anniversary

Three years ago today, the Film Doctor started posting reviews, including this one concerning Michael Clayton.

Some links:

---three reasons: Something Wild

---making Hanna

---the art of the title sequence: Game of Thrones

---revisiting A Clockwork Orange

---detail shots of Bottle Rocket

---criminalizing cameras

---meltdown

---the faux-vintage photo and nostalgia for the present

---Ben McGrath's "The Dystopians":

"Orlov’s 2008 book, “Reinventing Collapse: The Soviet Example and American Prospects,” identifies the ingredients of what he calls “superpower collapse soup”—a severe shortfall in the production of crude oil, a worsening foreign-trade deficit, an oversized military budget, and crippling foreign debt—and argues that his adopted country, with its “American-style Potemkin villages” and “highly compensated senior lunch-eaters,” is not only vulnerable but likely to fare worse. (“Make no mistake about it: this soup will be served, and it will not be tasty!”) “Now we’re in hospice care,” he told me. “The bailouts you see can be viewed as ever bigger doses of morphine for a patient that’s not long for this world.”

---using After Effects for The Social Network

---the original ending of Election (which is faithful to the book)

---Jason Bellamy and Sheila O'Malley choose their "movies"

---Toy Shining

---The Hangover filmmakers take many risks with their new trailer

---A. O. Scott and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

---the appeal of the apocalypse

---the Say Anything scene that Cusack improvised

---Roseanne Barr lets loose:

"I grabbed a pair of wardrobe scissors and ran up to the big house to confront the producer. (The “big house” was what I called the writers’ building. I rarely went there, since it was disgusting. Within minutes, one of the writers would crack a stinky-pussy joke that would make me want to murder them. Male writers have zero interest in being nice to women, including their own assistants, few of whom are ever promoted to the rank of “writer,” even though they do all the work while the guys sit on their asses taking the credit. Those are the women who deserve the utmost respect.) I walked into this woman’s office, held the scissors up to show her I meant business, and said, “Bitch, do you want me to cut you?” We stood there for a second or two, just so I could make sure she was receptive to my POV. I asked why she had told the wardrobe master to not listen to me, and she said, “Because we do not like the way you choose to portray this character.” I said, “This is no fucking character! This is my show, and I created it—not Matt, and not Carsey-Werner, and not ABC. You watch me. I will win this battle if I have to kill every last white bitch in high heels around here.”

---lastly, Repo Man