Днём рождения кино принято считать 28 декабря 1895 года, когда на бульваре Капуцинок в Париже состоялся первый публичный сеанс «движущихся картин», снятых братьями Люмьер. Уже в первые месяцы 1896 года люмьеровские фильмы увидели жители крупнейших городов Западной Европы и России. Кино, это «чудо XX века», оказало огромное и несомненное влияние на культурную жизнь многих стран и народов мира. Самые выдающиеся художественно-игровые фильмы, о которых рассказывает эта книга, представляют всё многообразие зарубежного киноискусства. Среди них каждый из отечественных любителей кино может найти знакомые и полюбившиеся картины. Отдельные произведения кинематографистов США и Франции, Италии и Индии, Мексики и Японии, Германии и Швеции, Польши и Великобритании знают и помнят уже несколько поколений зрителей нашей страны. Достаточно вспомнить хотя бы ленты «Унесённые ветром», «Фанфан-Тюльпан», «Римские каникулы», «Хиросима, любовь моя», «Крёстный отец», «Звёздные войны», «Однажды в Америке», «Титаник»… Ныне такие фильмы по праву именуются культовыми.

Можно смело утверждать, что XX век был веком режиссуры. Под влиянием режиссёра, то есть организатора, педагога, художника, творца, развивались театр и кинематограф. За прошедший век режиссура обогатилась многими выдающимися именами, среди которых немало наших соотечественников. Это К. С. Станиславский, В. И. Немирович-Данченко, В. Э. Мейерхольд, Е. Б. Вахтангов. А. Я. Таиров, С. М. Эйзенштейн и многие другие. Книга из серии «100 великих» рассказывает о самых знаменитых в мире режиссёрах театра и кино.

This hands-on project guide is devoted to demonstrating how you can use two of the most indispensable content creation tools--After Effects and Photoshop--together to produce animations and effects on the desktop.

All art ultimately illumines the culture in which it is created, even if that culture usually serves merely as a backdrop to the projection of some more ideal or alternative reality by the artist. But with so-called Pop Art, the very backdrop of mass-culture became the foreground subject of art itself. By magnifying the lack of taste and extreme vulgarity or kitsch that are inevitable by-products of an increasingly globalised mass-culture, artists have not only ironically drawn attention to that debasement of taste, but equally stressed their own detachment from it, as though to assert that they themselves are privileged beings who stand outside society and remain untainted by its corruptions. For the most part these artists simply celebrated pop-culture but one of them – the subject of this book – went much further. Through pioneering a variety of techniques, but principally by means of the visual isolation of imagery, its repetition and enforced similarity to printed images, and the use of garish colour to denote the visual garishness that is often encountered in mass culture, Andy Warhol threw much direct or indirect light upon modern anomie or world-weariness, nihilism, materialism, political manipulation, economic exploitation, conspicuous consumption, media hero-worship, and the creation of artificially-induced needs and aspirations.

Uncovering a treasure trove of Italian films from The Leopard to Puma Man - Italian filmmakers have created some of the most magical and moving, violent and controversial films in world cinema. During its twentieth-century heyday, Italy's film industry was second only to Hollywood as a popular film factory, exporting cinematic dreams worldwide. With international finance and multinational stars, Italian filmmakers tackled myriad genres with equal gusto and in inimitable style. Cinema Italiano is the first book to discuss comprehensively both Italian 'popular' and 'arthouse' cinema of this golden age. Appraising over 400 movies, Cinema Italiano unearths the best of Italian cinema. Dario Argento's 'gialli' thrillers and Sergio Leone's spaghetti westerns are explored longside the best films of Luchino Visconti, Federico Fellini, Pier Paolo Pasolini and Michelangelo Antonioni. hapters discuss the rise and fall of genres such as mythological epics, gothic horrors, cience-fiction, spy films, war movies, costume adventures, zombie films, swashbucklers, political cinema, spaghetti westerns and 'poliziotteschi' crime films. The book also traces the directorial careers and key films of such luminaries as Mario Bava, Sergio Corbucci, Francesco Rosi, Lucio Fulci, Duccio Tessari, Enzo G. Castellari, Bernardo Bertolucci and Gillo Pontecorvo. An essential guide for DVD and video collectors and aficionados alike, it is illustrated throughout with rare stills and international posters from this revered era in world cinema.

Vol. 2 : Criticism–Ideology. - 412 p.

There are a number of people who deserve thanks: Rhoda Himmel Mazur, my mother, who introduced me to old “classic” films, and Marvin Irwin Mazur, my father (Z’’L), who would see any film as long as my mother told him that it was a “musical comedy”; Jody Risa Mazur, my sister, who lent me a variety of materials (often without her remembering); Lillian Weintraub, my aunt (Z’’L), who sent me articles on religion and film from the time I started graduate school until her death in 2008; Bill Mandel, annual host of the seasonal “Mandel Bijou”; Benton Knight (who dragged me to see Be My Bloody Valentine ) and Scott Baradell (who dragged me to see C.H.U.D. ); Robin Alperstein and the editorial staff of The Declaration (at the University of Virginia, way back in 1986–1987), who published “Reel to Reel,” a movie review column I coauthored with Scott Baradell, which was based on the work of Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert (only funny, and in print); and of course Claudia Anne Mazur, my wife, who has humored me when I have insisted that we watch any number of questionable films with the declaration that “it’s for work, dear.” To all of these people, I say thank you. You have encouraged—or at least tolerated—my often childish musings about film, and I think that with thisvolume, I have become both better educated and humbled by my professional digression into this field. I also want to thank Lynn Malloy Aranjo—whom I barely knew—and Rob (“RobRobRob”) Kirkpatrick—whom I know a bit better—for letting me pitch the idea of the encyclopedia to Greenwood in the first place. Rob was particularly patient as I worked out a number of the details, and for that I am grateful. And yes, Rob, you were right; the entry on Krzysztof Kies´ lowski is dedicated to you. Thanks also to Debra Adams, who saw the project through its hardest stretch, and Mariah Gumpert at ABC-CLIO, who provided the last bit of energy and assistance needed to get it all finished. If patience is a virtue, you are all saints. I must also thank the hard-working people in the Interlibrary Loan office at the Ellen Clarke Bertrand Library of Bucknell University, particularly Candice Hinckley, who worked tirelessly locating many of the materials listed in the bibliography. Without knowing it, they helped me forget the difference, if only for a moment, between a large research institution and a relatively small teaching college. A special thanks also to Julia Miller (Bucknell ’08) and Stephanie Johnson (Virginia Wesleyan College ’11) for their dedicated filmographic work, and Brittany Hayes (Virginia Wesleyan College ’12) for her fact-checking. Contributor Melanie J. Wright passed away just as this project was going into its final production. She was a friendly colleague and an insightful scholar in many fields, but particularly in the study of religion and film. She will be missed. I would also like to thank all of the contributors, particularly those who got their entries in on time and according to style. You are a very talented bunch of scholars and critics, and I have enjoyed reading all that you’ve sent me. I hope you like what I’ve done with your work!

Th ere are many people that I would like to acknowledge. Th is book was made possible with the generous support of a number of institutions — and more specifi cally the individuals that work in them: Judy Janec, Director of Library and Archives Holocaust Center of Northern California; Tina Minh, at the USC Shoah Foundation Institute; and Edyta Chowaniec, chief audio-visual archivist at the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial and Museum. Th ere are a couple of fi lmmakers that have been quite generous with me sharing their work, and providing me with supporting material. Elida Schogt generously (and very promptly) supplied me with reviews of her trilogy of fi lms — Silent Song (2001), The Walnut Tree (2000), and Zyklon Portrait (1999). Abraham Ravett — who made Everything’s For You (1989), and The March (1999) — was also very generous. Nina Koocher kindly provided me with a DVD of her 2007 fi lm How Much to Remember: One Family’s Conversation with History. Likewise, some of my fellow researchers have been quite generous as well. I would like to especially thank Joshua Hirsch. I would also like to thank Griselda Pollock and Max Silverman for inviting me to their seminar series, “Concentrationary Imaginaries: The Politics of Representation,” at the University of Leeds. Th is presentation was instrumental in developing the ideas found in exploitation and horror chapters in this book. Griselda, you continue to be an inspiration to me, and I only hope to be as productive and engaged as you are. I would also like to thank Francesco Ventrella for organizing my trip, and even helping to spring me from detention, aft er being detained by British Customs Agents at Gatwick. A number of my colleagues have also been instrumental in shaping the book — Julian Hoxter, Randy Rutsky, Tarek Elhaik, and Bill Nichols. Julian was especially helpful in bouncing ideas off of. I am deeply indebted to Chi-Hui Yang who read an early version of the book and helped to shape it. To my family: I thank you for your patience. Ariel, Daddy can come out to play now. “And now, let the wild rumpus start!”

The name of Fritz Lang—the visionary director of Metropolis, M, Fury, The Big Heat, and thirty other unforgettable films—is hallowed the world over. But what lurks behind his greatest legends and his genius as a filmmaker? Patrick McGilligan, placed among “the front rank of film biographers” by the Washington Post, spent four years in Europe and America interviewing Lang’s dying contemporaries, researching government and film archives, and investigating the intriguing life story of Fritz Lang. This critically acclaimed biography—lauded as one of the year’s best nonfiction books by Publishers Weekly—reconstructs the compelling, flawed human being behind the monster with the monocle.

Ryerson University in hosting a symposium entitled The New Paragone: The Cinema and Vanguard Art Movements . Inspired by Harmony & Dissentthe 3-day symposium examines Elder's startling claims about the influence of early cinema on avant-garde art movements. There will be panel discussions with key figures in visual art and film, screenings, and a book launch. Visit the Symposium website for more details.R. Bruce Elder argues that the authors of many of the manifestoes that announced in such lively ways the appearance of yet another artistic movement shared a common aspiration: they proposed to reformulate the visual, literary, and performing arts so that they might take on attributes of the cinema. The cinema, Elder argues, became, in the early decades of the twentieth century, a pivotal artistic force around which a remarkable variety and number of aesthetic forms took shape.To demonstrate this, Elder begins with a wide-ranging discussion that opens up some broad topics concerning modernity's cognitive (and perceptual) regime, with a view to establishing that a crisis within that regime engendered some peculiar, and highly questionable, epistemological beliefs and enthusiasms. Through this discussion, Elder advances the startling claim that a crisis of cognition precipitated by modernity engendered, by way of response, a peculiar sort of "pneumatic (spiritual) epistemology." Elder then shows that early ideas of the cinema were strongly influenced by this pneumatic epistemology and uses this conception of the cinema to explain its pivotal role in shaping two key moments in early-twentieth-century art: the quest to bring forth a pure, "objectless" (non-representational) art and Russian Suprematism, Constructivism, and Productivism.

All of a sudden, or so it seems, Spanish cinema is emerging as one of the most exciting, fascinating, and special cinemas in the world—not only are others viewing Spanish films, they are adopting Spanish producers and Spanish actors as their own. Obviously, part of this trend can be traced to Pedro Almodovar or Penelope Cruz, but that would be a vast oversimplification. Spanish cinema is not new: it has been maturing for a long time, having been one of the first to arise in the early days of silent film, and having produced excellent producers, actors, and films for decades—even during the dark times of the Franco regime. But now it is winning numerous fans not only at home but also abroad. So, this is a particularly good time to take a close look at its past and present and see just what it has achieved to date. More particularly, it is essential to discover that in today’s cinema Almodovar and Cruz are simply part of a cinematic tradition that is impressively long and broad, in some ways specific to Spain, in others truly universal. Moreover, there is not just Spanish cinema, but a circle of regional cinemas that also gain from being known better. A historical dictionary is a good way to explore this tradition, because it starts with a chronology that progresses from the very first, hesitant steps, through various periods of modest success and occasionally dismal failure, to the present, when recognition and awards, as well as reasonable box-office receipts, are rewarding Spain’s cinema and auteurs. The introduction takes a much broader view, showing how the industry is organized, who the leading players were and are, and considering the very different eras and sometimes quite different cinemas within the same era. Much of this information has been totally ignored outside of Spain until recently, as Spanish cinema has garnered world attention. The dictionary section is obviously the most informative, with hundreds of solid entries on producers, directors, and film companies, on actors and actresses, and on memorable films. Still, there is a limit to what can be done in one book, and this one pushes those limits rather far, so it ends with a bibliography that allows readers to go even further. This Historical Dictionary of Spanish Cinema was written by Alberto Mira, who is Spanish, and lives in Catalonia (which is not without its advantages). His earlier studies actually focused on English and American drama, which makes it easier for him to adopt a comparative approach and explain his own national cinema to outsiders. This is what he has been doing for well over a decade now, since he is presently a lecturer at Oxford Brookes University in England while also teaching at the Universitat Autonoma de Barcelona. Along with film studies, he lectures on Spanish and Latin American Literature and Culture, as well as on gender studies. Aside from this book, he has written a number of works in Spanish, including translations of plays, and he was the editor of a special issue of a Spanish film journal on homosexuality and film. He is also a member of the editorial board and review editor for New Cinemas and a member of the Pedro Almodovar Research Forum. These various and varied activities have combined very neatly in this particular work, which he engaged in very enthusiastically and conscientiously, and which has turned into one of the more insightful and helpful volumes in this series on cinema.