Structuralist film using multiple photographs of a number of people projected at varied speeds against multi-colored backgrounds.

Dreams: that cinema of the mind in which we are both spectator and protagonist, where anything is always seamlessly possible, where the most implausible encounters are commonplace.

What do you remember about a film when you haven’t seen it for ten years? James McCourt’s memory is prodigious. In an office in the Rockefeller Center in Manhattan, the American writer recounts his favourite film, Douglas Sirk’s 1956 melodrama WRITTEN ON THE WIND, scene by scene, sometimes almost shot by shot.

The actors: a projector, a screen, a voice, an audience and a cinema. The locations: “here” and “there.” The situation: an audience is sitting in the dark in a cinema. The film begins when the projector is switched on. The projector is running empty, projecting only a bright white rectangle on the screen. The action begins when the voice asks the audience: “Are you there?” “Yes, you’re there,” the voice replies for us. “But one day you won’t be there, will you?” The voice isn’t “there.” Where is it? “Here.” Where? On the other side of the screen. The voice then asks us to project ourselves into a scenario, into the film of that inevitable eventuality we all prefer not to think about: the passage from one side of the screen to the other, from being “there” to “no longer being there,” from “here” to “there.” And what better place to do this than in a cinema?

"The eye. It sees. It sees what it sees. Light…"

Shot-by-shot description of John Boorman’s neo-noir film (1967), starring Lee Marvin, co-starring Angie Dickinson, Keenan Wynn and Carroll O’Connor.

Anatole Lacoste and the Eye of the Squid General Picture – Episode 13 On his return to Paris after his discovery of the tomb of the giant squid Kheptar in the Nile Valley in Nubia, the Egyptologist Professor Anatole Lacoste falls into the hands of the malevolent Venezuelan scientist Madeleine Varga…