Randy Ray

The Unheard Music, a song, as we set the trash on fire and watch outside the door, men come up the pavement under the marquee—there’s laughing inside; we’re locked outside the public eye…

We float along, often from one misfortune to the next, but, somehow, one envisions a time when our space will be tranquil and free. Until then, the road appears endless—vague things rise and fall on a mysterious path. Venturing forth, one ponders the hidden meaning of it all, and watches from afar, neither touching the earth, or tasting the sky.

And yet…there is something quite compelling about the search for something else, something greater than oneself, something hidden and mysterious, strange and surreal. In our sights, in this week’s edition of Hidden Flick, we explore the clash between man and nature, profane and sacred, chaos and calm, in The Wind Will Carry Us.

The film was written and directed by Abbas Kiarostami, and features the lush and glorious mountain terrain of a Kurdish village, which is visited by a Tehran film crew intent in documenting the unique burial ceremony of a dying 100-year old woman. The metropolitan needs of the city dwellers hit the patient life of the small community, and the two opposing forces (Western Corruption meets Eastern Spirituality?) slowly find a place in the middle to meet. Or so one is led to ponder with an ethereal sense of hope—can modern man truly understand the poetic so-called banalities of the simple life? Does one reach the point of no return in that unexpected quest to return from whence we came? READ ON for more on this week’s flick…

Wanda, proper noun, a “moment of independence” which implies a formidable time; sometimes refers to a reserved area of mystery.

One never knows what makes up the Rosebud moments of someone’s life. Even relatives may never enter the interiors of one’s onionesque inner mind, the window to the soul, in pursuit of the true moment which encapsulates everything into one tidy and neat little package. One cannot really define what it is that makes up someone’s life, but a film can often get pretty damned close, and that is the hidden truth in our continuing search for the pearl of wisdom here on our modest little quest to find something cinematically worthy.

A memory of where and when and how forever circling overhead, looping through time while gazing out upon eternity, out upon a distinct link between what space appears to be, and what it really is—a mysterious riddle consumed by the enormous weight of it all. And so we gaze beyond Time and Space as we take a look at this edition of Hidden Flick, Carlos Sorin’s La Ventana, or, in English, The Window, and it IS the window, the view out there, one is forever focused upon, in this film to seek, to find, to see the soul within.

After many flights of weirdness within the realm of numerous Kingdoms—audio, visual, and otherwise—it is time to feast one’s eyes and ears upon a subtle and deceptively simple little film. Indeed, at 77 minutes, The Window is one of Hidden Flick’s shortest entries in this four-season arc, thus far. But the rich gem helmed by an Argentine, starring a famous Uruguayan author, and filmed in the exquisitely beautiful Patagonian countryside, has one quickly wrapped up in its warm alchemical spell. Magic? Perhaps. But one is more apt to call this film a humble study of a man’s hidden thought-dreams.

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick – The Window…

window, n., a “window of opportunity” implies a favorable time; sometimes refers to a reserved area of memory.

Restart Riget. Roll camera. Take #2.

Wicked insanity…wandering, always wandering down the halls through the hidden catacombs of these theatres of the mind, trailing off from Belgium, and back to Denmark, and back into the rooms from whence we came, looking out into the universe, inside and out, beyond the Window, la Ventana of the soul, beyond Time and Space, as we slide into a concluding glance at the final four hours of a two-part Danish television series.

One is forced to think about man’s place in the universe and why, incredibly, one truly needs to forget all of the philosophical adventures and “What does it all mean?” ignorant posturing, and just get on with Life…even if there are ghosts in your hospital. Enlightenment and Immortality aren’t goals; they are merely signposts on the path towards the Kingdom. We have come so far on this strange film expedition, but also appear as humble psychic urchins on a little celluloid adventure. To view the universe inside out? To see the Kingdom through the eyes of a child? Ahh…but, we are talking about a truly fucked-up place in this week’s Hidden Flick, Riget II.

Trapped in Space–Part II~>

~ – fully-segmented; teases of past and future excerpts dropped into the present edition, a Hidden Flick mashup circling overhead, while wandering in place, and gazing upon a request, a sign written in Greek, translated into English, outside the Theatre window:

“DIGRESSATORY DELAY LOOP JAM”

Created by Lars von Trier, and co-directed by the controversial filmmaker and Morten Arnfred, the eight-part Danish television series from 1994 (Part I) and 1997 (Part II), ventured into the realm of ghosts, noodle illness, terminal diseases, the mentally challenged as sage storytellers, and a fixation on demented weirdness for its own sake. You know—your usual banquet of essential ingredients for a Flick in Season 4 of our little romp through the international cinematic wormhole of movie madness. Oh, and, as mentioned, the gloves are off—sometimes, these editions will feature work that is covered on the small screen, albeit on a very wide canvas such as this eight-hour beast.

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick, Riget II…

I walked through the doorway, and was hit by the sound of a Porcupine Tree song:

All my designs, simplified

And all of my plans, compromised

Further down the hallway of the grand interior of what looked like the brain-damaged home of the owner of the Hidden Theatre, I spotted the instructions to a game that never seemed to exist:

The door opens at the Rhombus, and Colonel Forbin, an aging military man, his best years fading away into the past, sees a chance in the magical land of Gamehendge for a complete state of renewal. He can also save Gamehendge, the land of the enslaved Lizards, from Wilson, the evil King of Prussia, defeat its enemies, and get a girl by solving puzzles through acts of mental and physical discovery, finding the Key to It All, and taking part in a series of epic battles.

Further along, I walked into what looked like a refurbished hospital room. Simplified, I appeared to be in some lost kingdom, a lost continent, with hidden and lost secrets, which only games, wedded to music, could explain. Alas, there were no games, no music, just a film flickering on the wall of this room. Further down, further along, I sat down to gaze at its cryptic images amidst a counterpoint of harmonies, heavy and soft, tight but loose. Ahh…sweet strands with a clenched fist that always seems to play as if its palm is open, allowing melodies and ideas to drift away from the original point, the original note, and the Zeppelin flies onwards in this week’s Hidden Flick, Werckmeister Harmonies.

Co-directed by Béla Tarr and Agnes Hranitzky, and written by László Krasznahorkai, the 2000 film was made in Hungary, and details a small town in that Central European country. János Valuska, played with quiet simplicity and engaging pathos by Lars Rudolph, wanders a town seared by the presence of a bizarre and evil traveling circus that has served to undermine the convictions of its citizens, while derailing the curiously innocent view of the universe held by Valuska, a man intent in finding the sane in an insane universe. Trickster God? Not sure. But this film espouses a powerful theory about one as embodied by the mysterious Prince, who entrances and horrifies the townsfolk. READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick…

“Hen til al hvem vil ikke lytte , al er lydløs.” – To all whom will not listen, all is silent.

Restart Game. Roll camera. Take #51.

One is forced to think about man’s place in the universe and why, incredibly, one truly needs to forget all of the philosophical adventures and “What does it all mean?” ignorant posturing, and just get on with Life…even if there are ghosts in your hospital. Enlightenment and Immortality aren’t goals; they are merely signposts on the path towards the Kingdom. We have come so far on this strange film expedition, but also appear as humble psychic urchins on a little celluloid adventure. To view the universe inside out? To see the Kingdom through the eyes of a child? Ahh…but, we are talking about a truly fucked-up place in this week’s Hidden Flick, Part I of Riget.

Created by Lars von Trier, and co-directed by the controversial filmmaker and Morten Arnfred, the eight-part Danish television series from 1994 (Part I) and 1997 (Part II), ventured into the realm of ghosts, noodle illness, terminal diseases, the mentally challenged as sage storytellers, and a fixation on demented weirdness for its own sake. You know—your usual banquet of essential ingredients for a Flick in Season 4 of our little romp through the international cinematic wormhole of movie madness. Oh, and, as mentioned, the gloves are off—sometimes, these editions will feature work that is covered on the small screen, albeit on a very wide canvas such as this eight-hour beast.

If you’ve been with us this far, you know I don’t summarize, define, illuminate, or underline the plot or storyline of a particular featured film. Instead, in glorious metaphysical critspeak, I see how the film relates to our modern times, and how the hidden truths of the written word, or sublime subtitle, or astute actor, or determined and focused director (“hey, you screwed up the alliteration”…yes, yes I did), and how that work speaks to the multiple concepts of good and evil, and time and (wait for it) space.

READ ON for much more on this week’s Hidden Flick…

Roll camera…

Screen Test: Most people are unaware that on the initial release of London Calling, The Clash’s landmark double album, their hit single, arguably the most commercial piece of old school ear candy the band would ever record, wasn’t even listed on the sleeve. Train in Vain appeared as a hidden track, the last song on side 4, kicking in after Revolution Rock, and solidified the legendary status of the album and the band. The gesture also spoke volumes about the post-punk quartet’s confidence that a) they could record a cool, timeless track, and b) they didn’t need to shove the product down the consumer’s throat by highlighting its appearance with even a slight mention on the sleeve.

Opening Credit…(cue Albany’s Seven Below>Ghost)

To my talented, tireless, and terrific friend and editor Scott Bernstein who graciously agreed to an idea, which was merely an unknown area that sounded vaguely interesting. Luckily, Scotty’s faith created a mission to dig underneath the pile to find some pearls.

Of course, it didn’t always work. But, hell, don’t blame Scotty. He only asked one thing. And to his credit, he hasn’t brought it up since: “Turn in the work before it is due to run.” That proved difficult. Like some writers, especially a music writer (writing about music? Really? Music?), I wait for the moment of epiphany to arrive. But, Jesus wept, it seems to arrive at the last minute. Shit, man—I’ve had some “last minute moments” that were horrible. Try writing an important piece, stuck in a media trailer, while Kanye West is going on late, I mean LATE, playing like Zeppelin in Your Living Room LOUD, and you don’t have a single clue what you are writing about. That’s been my daily existence for the past several years. Yeah, but those lost moments pass; foolishly, one utters: onwards!

THAT idea…and the eccentric columns that followed, searching, always searching for buried gems made me realize that I was often writing about films that people may have already seen if they were a) cool, b) strange, c) led rock star hours, d) had really shite taste, or e) all of the above, but I thought there may be some hidden truth that needed to be pondered on the edge of its celluloid existence. You know…so it can give us a wee bit of wisdom, or make a mark on our collective questioning existentialist group soul as all of that somehow paved the way to keep moving forward with this thing because we don’t know fuck all where we are going, do we? Yeah, we do this time as the Royal We knock on the door of the 50th edition, and enter within its long and dark chambers, awaiting the good word on what we have found in our search for lost cinematic treasures in our special anniversary of Hidden Flick. Suffice to say, it required patience through quite a bit of improvising before one got to that sweet spot. And for that, I dedicate this to Scotty.

Let it roll…

Flash 1: What do Jerry Garcia, Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Luis Bunuel and Neil Gaiman have in common? Well, they all in some way are connected with a film made by a Polish director set in the Spanish Inquisition about the surreal adventures of a soldier who has found an ancient manuscript during the Napoleonic Wars. Oh, and the film was based upon a novel written in Spanish by a legendary Polish writer and adventurer, Count Jan Potocki at the turn of the 19th century—crazed mystics help to narrate the sweet wreckage drenched in ghost stories, bent royalty, and seductively demonic women. The film by Wojciech Has is The Saragossa Manuscript and it is a wild jaunt through incredible scenes of such mind-blowing cleverness that one is drawn deeper down the rabbit hole into a rich maze of tales within a tale within an overall twisted myth.

READ ON for more greatest hits from the first 49 columns…

“Ingen mer Mr. Trevlig Stöttan!”

The best comment I ever heard about improvisation actually came from Phish keyboardist Page McConnell when he very simply stated that if the band had not been venturing out into the Great Unknown for 15 minutes, they would not have reached that point where everyone was in sync, a new form of music was being created on the spot and the entire audience was part of that process. There are numerous examples from a 20-plus year career where Phish did, indeed, find this passage of space after the 10- or 12- or McConnell-branded 15-minute demarcation mark. Suffice to say, it required the band and fan to be patient through quite a bit of improvising before one got to that sweet spot.

Ahh…but we get ahead of ourselves, and so close to the 50th edition of our little south bound saurez. Like some homeless, eccentric genius with an inability to find a purpose, or a way to fit into modern society, after centuries of peddling his interests for the elites and unwashed masses in various timeframes and locales, she finds herself, the very face of her being, changed and altered for a modern audience. What if someone’s temporal core remained somewhat constant, but the scenery changed as the calendar pages flew from the wall like some mad cartoonish time travel of a different sort? An interesting question to ponder in this edition of Hidden Flick as we investigate the masks worn by someone who never appears to age, let alone lose the ability to adapt with the times in the wonderful stream-of-consciousness-enriched Orlando.

The film is based on Virginia Woolf’s novel of an individual who lives through centuries of experience—the first half of his life as a man, and the second half, a woman. And you thought you had problems figuring out the opposite sex. Imagine being both, AND being somewhat of a fucking immortal without the craving for blood like some regal vampire. Well, our tricky little beast turns 49 this edition, and the penchant for improvised conceptual continuity throughout season 4 of Hidden Flick kicks into high gear, as we now look at not only time and space, but the eternal battle of the sexes.

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick – Orlando…

Season Four of Hidden Flick – our look at underrated films from a variety of periods and genres – kicks off in just two short weeks. On April 27, Randy Ray will be back to fill you in the best movies you may not have heard of that would make wonderful additions to your NetFlix queue. Since Roger Waters just announced the dates for his tour in which he’ll be performing The Wall in its entirety, we bring you a Wall-themed Hidden Flick column from 2009…

[Originally Published: September 1, 2009]

This fall marks the 30th anniversary of The Wall, Pink Floyd’s landmark album of loss, depression, and, ultimately, total isolation from reality. The seminal work featured Roger Waters at his zenith as a conceptual artist and also, sadly and inevitably, brought an end to the band, lumbering on for just one more album, The Final Cut, with their leader.

Of course the Floyd continued on without Waters, but that is an old story for another time, and one that was rather appropriately amended by the Live 8 reunion in 2005 of the classic quartet one last time before Richard Wright’s passing on September 15, 2008.

Alas, this column is not completely about Waters, Gilmour, Mason, Wright, and Floyd, nor their fictional wall for that matter. This week’s Hidden Flick is really about a 2001 German film called Der Tunnel, and it is based on a true story about those that constructed a tunnel underneath the wall separating a divided Germany so citizens could escape from the Soviet regime governing the East. It is also about what it’s like to be an existentialist who hasn’t faced such horrors, and yet one still feels the deep pain within.

READ ON for more on this week’s Hidden Flick…