Noticia Filmstruck, el Netflix de los clásicos

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    Filmstruck, el Netflix de los clásicos

    Me lo han chivado por la twitter y ahora mismo estoy llorando por la emoción. TCM+Criterion+Kino+ETC. La mayoría de webs de streaming perdieron derechos sobre sus pelis en 2014 y estos señores aprovechan la ocasión para relanzarlos y sumar otros cientos de títulos hasta el momento inéditos en el internes. Los estrenos que distribuyan, también los tendrán en exclusiva para la plataforma.

    Night after night, for more than twenty years, the programming team at Turner Classic Movies has been exploring the world of film in a smart, adventurous way. They have stuck to their mission, consistently shining a light on the classics, delighting us with their themes, surprising us with their discoveries, and earning our trust. So when they asked us to team up with them to launch FilmStruck, a new subscription streaming service designed for people who love independent, art-house, and international cinema, we were honored and thrilled. Combining Turner’s programming experience with Criterion’s library of films and supplemental content made all the sense in the world.

    FilmStruck will be launching this fall on desktop and mobile devices, and internet-connected television platforms. A service built from the start with nothing but movies in mind, it will feature films from many major studios and independent distributors alongside a broad and constantly rotating selection of Criterion films, complete with the commentaries and rich supplemental content that Criterion viewers have come to expect. Carefully curated and always changing, it should be a cinema lover’s dream.

    FilmStruck subscribers will also be eligible to sign up for the Criterion Channel, a premium service that will be all Criterion’s own. Once we’re up and running, the Criterion Channel will not only offer continual access to our library of more than 1,100 films, along with their special features, it will also give us the chance to approach the Criterion mission in a whole new way. After thirty years of focusing exclusively on one film or cycle of films at a time, we will now be able to feature a steady stream of original content that runs across filmographies, genres, time periods, and themes. We’ll reach outside our library to include films from major studios and independent rights holders. We’ll tap into our community of filmmakers and experts to act as guest curators and highlight archival discoveries not available on disc or anywhere else. It won’t replace our Blu-rays, but it will definitely add a new dimension to the Criterion experience.

    Sometimes it feels like Criterion lives at a crossroads of classic and contemporary cinema. New filmmakers we admire are passing through our offices all the time, mostly drawn by their respect for the classic filmmakers whose work we are privileged to attend to. One of the most exciting things about the Criterion Channel is that it will give us a chance to capture that energy for our audience, to champion and show more films by filmmakers working today, not just the few we have rights to publish on disc. We’ll bring you carefully selected contemporary films that you might not find anywhere else, including streaming premieres, and we’ll invite those filmmakers to champion the classics they love, as they have been doing on our top-ten lists for years—but now the movies will be available for subscribers to watch right on our channel.

    The Criterion offering on Hulu will still be available into the month of November, but after that, FilmStruck and the Criterion Channel will be our exclusive streaming home. Feel free to let us know in the comments what you most want from our new streaming service, and be sure to visit FilmStruck.com to sign up for updates and a free trial offer as soon as the the service launches. It’s going to be an exciting new adventure for Criterion, and we hope you’ll make the journey with us.


    Si queréis que os llegue info al correo, visitad http://filmstruck.com/


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    Correo de esta mañana, ya tenemos fecha chavules:

    We are pleased to announce that FilmStruck will be available to the public on October 19, 2016. We have been working tirelessly to gather great films for you to explore and enjoy. Check out this video to learn more about FilmStruck and the Criterion Channel.

    There will be three FilmStruck subscription plans to choose from:
    • FilmStruck Monthly Subscription for $6.99 / month
    • FilmStruck + Criterion Channel Monthly Subscription for $10.99 / month
    • FilmStruck + Criterion Channel Annual Subscription for $99.00/ year

    At the time of launch, FilmStruck will be available on Desktop, Android Handsets and Tablets, iPhones and iPad and Amazon Fire TV. Coming Soon: Apple TV 4th Generation, Chromecast and Roku.

    —The FilmStruck Team

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    Dejo el blog de la plataforma por aquí, me tiene muy viciado, a lo que más de doy últimamente junto al podcast 'You Must Remember This' -del cual tengo hilo pendiente-. http://streamline.filmstruck.com/

    Hace un par de días hablaron de la que considero una top-5 de lo que llevamos de década -a nivel de set-pieces, la mejor probablemente-, así aprovecho y hago doble spam:

    PINA (2011): RECREATING THE STAGE ONSCREEN




    If you have ever been to the theater, you know the exhilaration of watching actors perform live onstage. There’s something about it that’s completely unique. There is no equivalent in the cinema. By the same turn, the awe and grandeur of the cinema produces a different level of exhilaration, completely separate from the stage. When we watch the Death Star explode, or Popeye Doyle race beneath the elevated subway tracks of New York City, or Chief Brody get a big hello from a hungry shark, we know that’s something that can never be replicated on a stage and have the same impact. On the stage, simply seeing a person sing a song in front of you, or dance, or reveal their deepest fear or greatest joy, is a moment all its own. Pina (2011), directed by Wim Wenders, is one of the few films I have ever seen that replicates the stage experience and provides the best argument yet that cinema/stage fusion can indeed work.


    Pina was produced in 2011 shortly after the titular subject, Pina Bausch, died of cancer at the age of 68. She died as Wim Wenders was preparing to film her talking about her life, accomplishments and art. When she passed away, he had no choice but to scrap the biographical documentary. However, instead of scrapping it outright, with the urging of her dance company, he made a film about her using her choreographed routines as a method of connecting with her. Throughout, her dancers speak of working with her but it is the performances that speak the loudest.



    Wenders decided to present the film in 3-D and while it works exceptionally well in 3-D, I saw it twice on the big screen, once in 3-D and once without, and honestly I think the 2-D version looks better. The presentation of 3-D always looks like elaborate multi-planing to me and 2-D actually looks more like watching the dancers perform in person. And the big screen helps, tremendously. If you’re going to watch it, and the time to see it in a theater has passed, I recommend a nice big screen TV, which most film lovers probably own by now anyway. Otherwise, it would still work because, damn, Wenders knows how to film dance!

    The first big dance number we see is an interpretation of Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring.” We see the troupe dumping tons of dirt on the stage, raking it out, and preparing for the performance. Then we see the performance and it is, quite simply, amazing. Wenders does not merely let the camera sit back in front of the stage to give the illusion of watching a stage performance. He combines the two, cinema and theater, giving you full views, closeups, pans and tracking shots. The dance fills the screen and you feel like you’re there, except that it ends abruptly and moves to something else.



    This was, I thought, a flaw when I first saw it but by the second time, did not. Wenders is showing pieces, bits and sections, that give the viewer an understanding and appreciation of Pina’s art without letting them fully in. It shifts in and out, like a brainstorming session of what to do next, and lands on and off the stage. Sometimes the dance takes place by a stream, sometimes on a train, sometimes along a ridge in the country. And all the time the dancers relate their stories and describe how little any of them, or anyone else ever knew Pina. This takes the film in a fascinating direction, one in which some in the film even opine that it was perhaps fateful that Pina would die before production, lest she give up her secrets.

    As such, she remains a ghostly figure throughout the work, her voice heard from time to time, her face seen, her constant smoking on display. She was driven to communicate through dance, not words, and when she used those words, they were striking and direct. One dancer relates how Pina used emotional language to direct him. He remembers one day talking to her about a dance and how he was getting the hang of it and felt good about where it was going. Then, as he went to leave, she said, referring to the dance, “don’t forget to scare me.” That, speaking as an actor, is an amazing bit of direction. Here’s crappy direction: “Say your line like this,” then the director says the line. “Scare me” is great direction. It’s telling the performer, be happy that you have the steps memorized, be happy that you feel confident. But don’t forget to do something more, something dangerous, something that comes from you alone and makes me wonder if you’re dancing on the edge of disaster. Scare me.



    As Pina, the movie, winds its way towards its conclusion, it feels as if you have just watched a narrative film, one in which the characters connect to each other through physical motion only but in which a kind of plot can almost be discerned. It starts in primal fashion, with “The Rite of Spring,” and goes to one of Pina’s famous dances, as dreamlike women move chaotically through a room full of chairs while someone frantically moves them out of the way, and finally settles into more personal dances, as two performers hold each other and gracefully move to the music. There is a definite progression here, and that’s important. It gives us the sense that we are watching Pina’s evolution as a choreographer.

    Pina Bausch died before Wenders could make a proper (read: standard) documentary about her so he went in a different direction. That direction did something extraordinary. It provided a biography of an artist by showing the art and succeeded in producing one of the finest biopics the cinema has ever seen, minus the biopic.

    Greg Ferrara

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