Frédérique Morrel The French artist Frédérique Morrel was horrified to discover that when her grandmother died, all of her handicrafts were thrown away. Since then, she has been pursuing the idea of bringing her grandmother’s works back to life in order to revive the passion that was inherent in them. In the process, she has developed a completely new artistic concept that “ decycles ” unnoticed and unvalued pop artifacts, thus helping them make the transition to a new life cycle. ** Thankfully, no animals were harmed in the making of Frédérique Morrel’s art. The horns and fur are real; the rest is a mix of taxidermy molds and vintage needlework. While amusing and perhaps a bit shocking, the trophies that adorn the Seventh Floor are “tame” compared to some of Frédérique’s other work which include life size horses, deer, wild boar and even humans (which they call “ ghosts ”.) If the artists’ goal is to “re-enchant” our world, then
NEWS! On 3 February, chemical substances together with vinyl chloride,
butyl acrylate, ethylhexyl acrylate and ethylene glycol monobutyl ether
leaked because of a 50-car (2 miles long) derailment within the small city of
East Palestine.
Greater than 2,000 residents had been ordered to evacuate surrounding
buildings as a result of well being issues over the leak, however have
since been allowed to return.
The movie white noise: starring Adam Driver and Greta Gerwig, launched on Netflix in late 2022 with movie extras from EAST PALESTINE OHIO and had the TRAINWRECK releasing toxic chemicals!
Three-time Oscar nominee Baumbach creates smart, insightful
comedy-dramas like “The Squid and the Whale” and “Marriage Story.”
“White Noise” is his first non-original film. He traces its inception to
COVID. “When I was reading it by chance with the pandemic I was
surprised how relevant it felt at that moment.” He also felt, “Whatever
moment was going on, it would feel relevant to that.”
Like Don DeLillo’s 1985 novel, the heart of Noah Baumbach’s “White
Noise” is in the supermarket. There, in the gleaming aisles of neatly
arranged cereal boxes and produce, DeLillo found America’s church: an
over-lit spectacle of abundance and artificiality. “Here we don’t die,”
says Murray, the college professor, to the book’s protagonist, Jack, “we
shop.”
Baumbach’s film is faithfully tuned to the buzzing dread and strange
surrealism of DeLillo’s postmodern masterwork. This is true not only in
the aisles of the A&P, where Jack Gladney (Adam Driver) and his
wife, Babette (Greta Gerwig), contentedly stroll. Baumbach has also
sprinkled grocery store products throughout the film. In the background
of dramatic scenes sit Pringles, Sanka, Yoohoo! and other name brands
like bread-crumb reminders of all that the supermarket represents:
Inevitable doom covered up by linoleum floors and Tony the Tiger.
“White Noise,” which opens in theaters Friday and debuts Dec. 30 on
Netflix, is a big swing at one of the great late-20th-century books.
Both apocalyptic and comic, DeLillo’s eighth novel has proven acutely
prophetic in its exhumation of the everyday dreams and dangers of
American life. So much so that “White Noise,” as a story about an
“airborne toxic event” filmed during the COVID-19 pandemic, could risk
being almost too dead on.
But DeLillo’s rhythm and vernacular, here energetically adapted by
Baumbach, remains intoxicatingly singular. Realism was never the point,
and Baumbach’s lively, stylish “White Noise” wholeheartedly embraces the
book’s dizzying, dense intensity. Baumbach, the New York filmmaker of
“Marriage Story” and “The Squid and the Whale,” has usually mined his
own life for drama, with the exception of a previous adaptation with Wes
Anderson. (“Fantastic Mr. Fox,” which likewise culminated with dancing
in shiny supermarket aisles. ) “White Noise,” made with a bigger budget
and a touch of Spielbergian spectacle, is often riveting large-canvas
filmmaking while still idiosyncratically personal. Crammed full with
ideas and a giddy gloom, “White Noise” is a doomsday film too enthralled
by the toxic absurdities of modern life to be dragged down by them.
“White Noise” begins in a talky, theatrical register. Baumbach is a
natural when it comes to manic, mannered neurosis but less sure-footed
in translating DeLillo’s darker, conspiratorial tones. It makes an
initially awkward, overly frenetic fit here, though it’s understandable
to want to stuff as much of DiLillo’s dialogue in as possible. And the
antic style serves a purpose: Jack, a professor of Nazism at a Midwest
college, has been speeding through life in a denial of his fate,
ironically insulated even by his Hitler studies. But there are cracks in
his comfortable suburban bubble. One daughter finds in the house an
amber pill jar for a mysterious, unknown drug called Dylar.
“White Noise” surveys the embedded toxicity in American society. There’s the insidious creep of prescription medication. The kids — they
have a houseful from their multiple previous marriages plus one of their
own — flock to watch a plane crash on the television. At the
College-on-the-Hill, Jack and Prof. Murray Siskind (Don Cheadle) debate
in a back-and-forth lecture the similar crowd-gathering thrall of Hitler
and Elvis, a scene crosscut with a catastrophic accident between a
chemical-carrying truck and a speeding locomotive.
As a dark, expanding cloud forms overhead the accident, its
categorization quickly changes. Is it a plume? Is it billowing? The
concern filters through the community and the Gladney home. Driver plays
Jack with a sardonic, overconfident aplomb and, eventually, dawning
existential terror. After first dismissing the threat, Jack is forced to
evacuate the family, and the scenes of the station wagon careening
through the chaos, with an amorphous doom overhead, are as vivid as
anything Baumbach has shot.
After the “toxic airborne event,” Jack is newly awoken to the
closeness of his own death, and maybe those around him. The source of
that Dylar is another looming poison, a plotline that reaches an
emotional climax in Babette’s teary confession, played movingly by
Gerwig. The second half of “White Noise,” perhaps like the book,
struggles to match its memorable first half. And in very ’80s environs,
Baumbach’s film always remains — purposefully, I think — a
self-conscious work of literature adaptation, juggling big themes and
highly literate dialogue with a screwball touch. It makes for a heady
concoction too constantly interesting to ever be boring.
.jpeg)
%20on%20Twitter.png)
Comments
Post a Comment
send me your idea!