They left out his his monologue on the ’7 per cent contraction in the last quarter of 2011′.
Damn hipster filmmakers.
Simon D writes:
Here’s a trailer for a film we made last summer, it’s got Alan Stanford, Vincent Browne and Time Travel! What more could you want?
Written and Directed by Ged Murray.
Produced by Ian Hunt Duffy and Fail Safe Films.
A movie supercut: ultimate moments of eye contact.
Everyone you see here totally gets you.
The process is obviously to deprive the viewer of a face that would look natural, to direct their attention to another detail (a costume, posture, hand, breast …): the manipulation is actually quite sexist , but quite effective. Only the world-famous actresses, will be readily understood and escape the guillotine.
Brendan Gleeson and ‘Gout’ the character he voices in Pirates! In An Adventure With Scientists! at a charity matinee screening of the movie at the Point’s new Odeon cinema in aid of the Jack and Jill Foundation.
And minutes later…
Here’s a trailer:
(Leon Farrell/Photocall Ireland)
Made in Ireland by Ciaran Foy.
Robert Coyle sez:
I have nothing to do with the movie I am just a big AICN [movie website] fan and it’s wonderful to see an independent Irish Movie getting such a great writeup.
“The tone of the film is a rock solid slow burn creep-out style built by tense set-ups, eerie sound design, a haunted leading performance and a deteriorating urban landscape that evokes a plague epidemic movie feel.
While I won’t go into any radical spoilers I will say that they don’t cop out with this premise. These little hoodied fuckers aren’t projections by a fractured psyche, but real life horror shows that would be at home in early Cronenberg or Argento films.”
A nifty little animated short by editor Evan Seitz: 26 movies as alphabetised icons.
Can you guess them all in real time as the film plays out?
Take a bow, Pedanto the Hilarity Man, who wins a year’s free rentals with Volta.ie.
Dodging a beercan hurled by his alcoholic father (who never recovered from the loss of his wife to cancer) our hero Myles smashes the Sacred Heart picture with a Fender Telecaster and vows to live by no man’s laws but his own. His journey thrusts him into the company of a succession of bulky tongue-tied farmers, office workers with romantic daydreams, and disillusioned IRA hitmen. A carefree Dutch backpacker named Inga casually relieves him of his virginity, but disappears in a stolen ice-cream van while he collects firewood from a beach and gazes at the Poolbeg chimneys. Arriving at last in Dublin, Myles hooks up with Clappers Donnelly, a rumbustious moneylender with a pit-bull terrier and a wide-lapelled powder-blue suit. When he accidentally drives Donnelly’s showband’s minibus into a lake, Myles must deliver a mysterious packet to Blades Standish, the city’s most feared heroin dealer. Will Myles rescue Inga from Standish’s docklands penthouse in time to meet his estranged brother Tom at their father’s funeral? Of course he will. But not before he has explored the bleak underbelly of post-Boom Dublin in a manner that is deeply satirical and yet ultimately redemptive, steeped equally in the mists of a Connemara boyhood and the harsher fumes of a vibrant and lively metropolis on the edge of Europe. Will this do?
Runner-up: John Gallen
‘Angela’s Ashes’ – The Story Of A Wake
The Butcher Boy, The Colleen Bawn and I Went Down to meet up with O’Neil Of The Glen and Ryan’s Daughter. We headed Into The West and met for Breakfast On Pluto, the new hipster coffee bar. Being summer, it was a blistering hot Bloody Sunday morning under a Reign Of Fire.
And, of a Sunday morning the place was full of Disco Pigs from the night before and The Actors from the latest staging of Bloom at the town hall. We were there to meet with Adam and Paul. It was all About Adam. He was no Ordinary Decent Criminal, due to his time as a Borstal Boy. I had only met him Once previously when out with The Magdalene Sisters known locally as The Country Girls. Meeting him by The Rising Of The Moon that night was a cold experience and shaking his hand was as if I’d to Shake Hands With The Devil. It was Nothing Personal since everyone is Some Mother’s Son.
But on this morning, The General flow of the conversation revolved around The Commitments he had made In The Name Of The Father to his beloved Angela (whom he affectionately called ‘Angel’) on her death bed. He was to spread Angela’s Ashes in The Field in Omagh where The Wind Shakes The Barley. Well, Home Is The Hero in This Other Eden north of the border.
Adam led us all out to The Van where Johnny Was waiting to drive us up north as he hummed the tune to Song For A Raggy Boy. Leading with My Left Foot, I hopped into the van. Of course, a few had to see a Man About Dog before we departed.
Adam, The Quiet Man among us, was still as a sleeping Lamb, all the way up north through The Hills Of Ireland which were in need of some Regeneration.
We reached the field and were met by Darby O’Gill And The Little People of the town of Omagh. Adam performed his duties and Kisses were exchanged among us as was the tradition In The Day’s Of St Patrick. Through the wake some had The Craic while others worked The Crying Game. Before Turning Green with all the drink, we climbed aboard the van once again, ensuring not to be Waking Ned as he slept in the back, likely dreaming of Reefer And The Model he saw earlier that week down the Ballroom Of Romance.
Adam no longer On The Edge of despair appeared to have had Five Minutes Of Heaven on saying good bye to his Angela. Johnny started up the van again. And we all headed back the Rocky Road To Dublin.
God Bless America.
It’s like Bobcat Goldthwait burrowed into your head and made a film about it.
Bleak, violent, NSFW.