The above performance showcases Michael Jackson as a mere star, on the cusp of world super-stardom, a time before his lunatic antics superseded his manifold talents. There’s something otherworldy in Jackson’s combination of kung fu stylings and marionette gesticulations, as if his actions were not his own.
A fan of Jackson’s, one Abeja Mariposa Jr, has created a trio of shorts worth watching. In Smooth Criminal, he re-choreographs Fred Astaire at his zaniest to a Jackson hit. Jackson was obviously influenced by Astaire, often paying him homage. The respect was mutual. Astaire called up Jackson to congratulate him after he first performed the moonwalk.
Which brings us to the second of Mariposa’s triology, Origins of the Moonwalk. I have little interest in actually understanding the historical lineage of the lunar lindyhop, but the toe tapping and foot frenzy showcased in this short is exhilirating.
This snippet from Who’s On First remains one of my favorite examples of kinetic typography, the animated typographical interpretation of dialogue from films, television or music.
Alwayswatching has a great list of some of the other competitors. These designers are really thinking about font, space, and composition in creative and inspiring ways.
And he willblow your mind, guaranteed. The indefitagable, ineffable Ricky Jay is on tour with his new stage show, “Ricky Jay, A Rogue’s Gallery,” described as “An evening of Conversation & Performance.”
His website describes him as
a writer and speaker on subjects as varied as conjuring literature, con games, sense perception and unusual entertainments.
He is perhaps best known as an actor, in Deadwood and perhaps in all of the con films directed by David Mamet (who directs this show, and on whose films Jay is often credited as a “consultant.”) But he is world-renowned as a manipulator of cards. Mark Singer, in his excellent New Yorker article writes,
Studying videotapes of him and observing at first hand some of his serendipitous microbursts of legerdemain have taught me how inappropriate it is to say that “Ricky Jay does card tricks”-a characteri- zation as inadequate as “Sonny Rollins plays tenor saxophone” or “Darci Kistler dances.” None of my scrutinizing has yielded a shred of insight into how he does what he does. Every routine appears seamless, unparsable, sim- ply magical.
A former carnival barker, he has garnered as much envy for his skills with his hands as he has of his aural dexterity, evidenced by his performance and patter, somehow both anachronistic and fresh. To pick a couple more accomplishments out of the proverbial hat — in his case surely a 10-gallon — he once held the Guinness Book of World Records for card throwing, a subject upon which he based his first book. His last media release was a CD compendium celebrating “the history, the art and the music of poker,” for which he was nominated for a Grammy.
There’s plenty of good Youtube clips to choose from, from his talk show appearances in the eighties on Letterman and Arsinio, from his network special Learned Pigs and Fireproof Women (inspired by his second book), but below are a couple of film clips that bespeak many of his charms.
Ricky Jay’s website is here. From his homepage, you’ll find links to the stellar New Yorker profile (as good a profile as I’ve ever read, on anyone), and about a year’s worth of radio essays Jay recorded for KCRW.
All Things Considered recently covered Israeli viral VJ Kutiman. His claim to rightful fame? Mashing up musical Youtube clips of musicians of variable talent in divergent settings. People singing to their isight and hokey musical instructional videos and locked-off piano rehearsals and old school keyboards. The result is a fun, marvelous swampy soul-funk groove video album that has to be seen (and heard) to be believed.
Currently, he’s the third most popular Israeli on Youtube. The late-night crooners and percussion practicioners he appropriates are now getting thousands of hits. In his Youtube comments, fans claim he has invented a new genre. I’ve certainly never seen anything like this.
A few months back the Criterion Collection expanded their minimum on-line presence by offering up select titles for streaming. It’s only five dollars to stream a masterpiece; if you decide to purchase the DVD, they’ll take that $5 off of the purchase. Better, you’ll get fantastic perks if you join their social media experiment, The Auteurs. It doesn’t cost anything, and each month they partner with IFC to provide a “festival,” in which they stream six free uninterrupted films a month.
This month, the theme is academy award winners for “best foreign film,” and is typical of the high quality of their selections: now available are such arthouse favorites as Fellini’s masterpiece La Strada and the energetic Brazilian bossa nova musical Black Orpheus. While both of these films frequently appear on critics’ all-time top ten lists, other festivals are more representative of Criterion’s gradual turn towards eclectism and inclusiveness. Last month’s festival selections were all mediations on homicide, and included a Marcello Mastriani comedy, a Japenese surreal pop symphony, a Norwegian psychological horror puzzler, and the same serial killer saga shot two ways, both equally disturbing.
I can not overstate the quality of the streaming. The same painstaking attention that they have previously applied to their restorations have been translated to the quality of their streaming. It’s as good as blu-ray, the best I’ve seen on my computer. With their nascent on-line offerings, it’s like having a quirky world cinema obsessive as a best friend introducing you to the paragon of cinema.
