9 posts shown.
Without any particular rhyme or reason, a few films have been drifting through my mind lately:
A Clockwork Orange
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Dead Man
Blade Runner
Lawrence of Arabia
The Shining
Ben-Hur
Dune
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
blueranger12 said:If I were calling the shots, I’d film The Hobbit with a smaller production house—something dark, claustrophobic, leaning heavily into that "less is more" horror vibe where what you don't see is scarier than what you do. Aside from the dragon sequences, where I'd probably go all out with the CGI, 😍 I'd keep everything moody and dimly lit. And the sound design? It needs to be visceral—something that makes your gut churn when that dragon bursts out of its cave. I really hope Peter Jackson sees this.
Oh, and the color palette should be washed out—not quite full sepia, but close to it.
think colors like they were in Dead Man 🙂
Basil Poledouris - Conan
And then there's John Williams... I mean, just look at his catalog—it's hard to believe one man could write all that. 🙂
Then you have Ennio Morricone—whether he was hitting the mark or missing it entirely; think of the sweeping landscapes of Once Upon a Time in the West, or the tension in The Untouchables...
As for Danny Elfman... if you haven't sat down with The Nightmare Before Christmas yet, I’d highly recommend it. The soundtrack is brilliant—though, honestly, the film itself deserves a watch too. 🙂
Howard Shore, of course—the entire Lord of the Rings saga. 🙂
And Maurice Jarre...
There are plenty more where those came from, really. 🙂
That movie was absolute gold! I honestly had such a blast watching it...
There’s this one moment—just pure genius—where their coach glances at a glass sitting on the table, and you see the surface of the water vibrating ever so slightly... and then they cut to that guy sinking a shot from basically three hundred yards out, hitting the target on the wall dead center.🙂 Pure perfection.🙂
Remember him...
Mitch Buchanan 😎
Nobody else can claim to be that handsome, tall, brilliant, witty, quick-witted, resourceful, gentle, kind, or ready to lend a hand (if you know what I mean)... 😁
glupinickname said:Oh, absolutely! YES! If I have to, I’ll personally drag Jackson into a room and force him to adapt every single one of Tolkien's works just for the pure, unadulterated joy of watching die-hard Tolkien fans scream, collapse, and watch their brains melt because the movies aren't 100% perfectly, totally, cosmically faithful to the books—and because you don't need to know Sindarin or some secret Dwarven handshake just to enjoy a movie.
Maybe they'll go ahead and form their own little terrorist cell called the S. N. O., wandering around in spandex and spiked accessories, killing people by making them laugh themselves to death just by looking at them.
ROFL 🙂
Brilliant! 🙂
I like to think of myself as a Tolkien fan 🙂—I've read everything except the History of Middle-earth, which I'm actually working through right now... but I honestly don't get this bitterness toward the filmmaking. To me, the movies are great. They obviously lack the sheer depth and exhaustive detail of the prose—that would be an impossible mountain to climb—but I think the films (specifically PJ) did a stellar job capturing the essence and spirit on screen... and I'm genuinely glad they were made. The Hobbit will be just as good... and maybe the Silmarillion 🙂 could be done as a mini-series (something along the lines of a high-budget fantasy epic or even a stylized period piece)🙂
It’s all going to be filmed eventually, provided everything stays on track... It looks like Peter Jackson is gearing up for a King Kong remake, and once that's out of the way, he'll presumably move on to the hobbit...
There’s currently this ongoing tug-of-war happening between New Line Cinema and Warner Bros. over who actually holds the rights to the hobbit... but I suppose they'll have it all sorted out by the time PJ wraps up King Kong. 🙂
It’s not really an animation—you know, puppets and all that sort of thing...
but, personally, I think Nightmare Before Christmas is absolutely fantastic...
Based on Tim Burton's vision... he served as producer, too... and Danny Elfman handled the score... which is also top-tier... if you haven't seen it yet, you really should! 🙂
Oh, I just remembered... Alice in Wonderland... if I recall correctly, it was released on DVD fairly recently... honestly, one of the most messed up animated films I've ever sat through... I truly don't understand why they let kids watch that stuff?! It's downright twisted. 🙂
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas—now that we’re actually talking about it—it really does sit in its own lonely corner of cinema. It’s one of those rare instances where the madness on screen feels less like a stylistic choice and more like a direct transmission from a fever dream. You can almost feel the grit and the disorientation through the lens, which is no small feat given how much chaos is packed into the frame. It’s a visceral experience, honestly; it doesn't just show you the descent, it drags you right down into the gutter along with the characters.
The Shining. It’s one of those films that stays under your skin—not just because of the scares, but because of that pervasive, suffocating sense of isolation. Looking back at it now, you realize Kubrick wasn't just making a horror movie; he was crafting a descent into madness that feels almost clinical in its precision. There’s a certain coldness to the direction—a calculated, rhythmic dread—that makes the supernatural elements feel secondary to the psychological disintegration of the family itself. It’s brilliant, really, even if it leaves you feeling somewhat hollowed out by the time the credits roll.
There’s something about *A Clockwork Orange* that stays with you—not necessarily in a pleasant way, but it lingers like a bad habit. It’s one of those films that feels almost too sharp, too visceral, even decades after its release. Kubrick had this uncanny ability to present something utterly grotesque through a lens of absolute, polished perfection, and that juxtaposition is exactly what makes it so unsettling. You find yourself watching the violence unfold with this strange, detached fascination, which probably says more about the viewer than the film itself. It’s a cynical look at human nature and the terrifying idea of stripping away free will in the name of "social good," presented with a stylistic flair that borders on the obsessive. It doesn't hold your hand, and it certainly doesn't care if you're comfortable.
I find myself circling back to the Lord of the Rings—not because I’m looking for some grand epiphany, but more out of a weary sort of necessity. It’s one of those rare cinematic undertakings that actually manages to sustain its own weight without collapsing under the sheer scale of its ambition. Most modern epics feel like they were assembled in a boardroom by people who have never actually felt the grit of a real journey, but there is something undeniably visceral about this trilogy. It’s massive, yes, but it avoids that hollow, empty feeling you get with most big-budget spectacles these days. It feels lived-in. It feels heavy. There's a certain melancholy running through the whole thing that resonates with me—that sense of a world changing irrevocably, where even victory feels a little bit like a loss. It’s a lot to process, especially when you consider how much effort went into making something so sprawling feel so intimate.
I find myself returning to *The Nightmare Before Christmas* more often than I care to admit—perhaps as a way to stave off the creeping cynicism that seems to settle in my bones every time the seasons shift. It’s a peculiar little piece of cinema, isn't it? While most people treat it as a mere seasonal staple, there is something deeply melancholic buried beneath all those stop-motion flourishes. It captures that specific, restless feeling of being misunderstood—of having a passion that simply doesn't align with the expectations of the world around you. It’s a quiet sort of tragedy wrapped in bright colors and jagged edges, and honestly, I think that’s why it sticks with us.
There’s something about *Apocalypse Now* that just refuses to settle—it stays under your skin, doesn't it? It’s one of those rare, sprawling epics that feels less like a movie and more like a fever dream you can't quite wake up from. Coppola didn't just make a film; he captured a descent into madness that feels almost too visceral to watch sometimes. It’s heavy, it’s beautiful, and it’s deeply unsettling. I find myself coming back to it, even if it leaves me feeling a little hollowed out by the end. Just a masterclass in cinematic chaos, really.
It’s funny how we try to categorize everything—the good, the bad, and the ugly—as if life actually fits into such tidy little boxes. We spend so much energy sorting through the wreckage of our choices, trying to find some kind of moral equilibrium, but most days just feel like a messy blur of gray areas. It’s exhausting, really. You think you’ve finally sorted out the "good" parts, only to realize the "ugly" was sitting there the whole time, just waiting for the lights to dim. Honestly, I’m still working on figuring out which is which.
Leningrad Cowboys are heading to America.
High Noon. A classic, though I often find myself wondering if modern audiences could actually stomach that kind of tension—the slow, agonizing burn of a man waiting for his inevitable reckoning while the clock ticks down. It’s stripped back, lean, and utterly unforgiving. There's no flashy spectacle to hide behind, just the weight of duty clashing with pure, unadulterated fear. It makes you realize how much we rely on cheap thrills today to mask a lack of actual substance.
Steven Spielberg’s *Empire of the Sun*—it’s one of those films that stays with you, though perhaps not for the reasons most people expect. It isn't exactly a "feel-good" piece of cinema, despite its bright, sweeping visuals. Instead, it’s this deeply melancholic, almost feverish look at childhood innocence being systematically dismantled by the chaos of war. There is a certain weight to the storytelling here—a sense of beautiful, tragic inevitability. Watching young Christian Bale navigate the surreal landscape of an internment camp in China, you realize Spielberg was tapping into something far more visceral and less polished than his usual fare. It feels raw, almost uncomfortably so. It lacks that sanitized, Hollywood sheen we often see in wartime dramas; instead, it leans into the disorientation of a child trying to make sense of a collapsing world. It’s a hauntingly beautiful film, even if it leaves you feeling somewhat hollowed out by the end. Some might find the pacing a bit deliberate, but I’ve always felt that the slow burn is necessary to truly grasp the psychological toll of the setting. It’s a masterful, albeit heavy, piece of work.