Lots of Soul Food in Mumford & Sons.
Roll away your stone, I'll roll away mine
Together we can see what we will find...
Cause you told me that I would find a hole
Within the fragile substance of my soul
And I have filled this void with things unreal...
It seems that all my bridges have been burnt
But you say that's exactly how this grace thing works
It's not the long walk home that will change this heart
But the welcome I receive with the restart
Here's a movie they're in.
BIG EASY EXPRESS
Mon Nov 12, 8:50pm
(2012, USA, Emmett Malloy) 67 min
3 bands, 6 cities, 1 train, and thousands of miles of track… the Big Easy Express documents a cinematic musical journey. Directed by renowned filmmaker Emmett Malloy (The White Stripes Under Great White Northern Lights) this new film captures indie folk heroes Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, Tennessee’s Old Crow Medicine Show, and Britain’s acclaimed Mumford & Sons, as they embark on a beautiful vintage train in California, setting out for New Orleans, Louisiana on a “tour of dreams”. The resulting film from this journey is nothing short of magical.
“An infectiously joyful account of a whistle-stop tour…” Variety
“Full of warmth, good music and good vibes that will make you feel like a part of the party while sad that you missed it.” MTV News
"Scintilating." Hollywood Reporter
Saturday, November 03, 2012
Thursday, November 01, 2012
"In some ways, the Hitchcock film for people who don’t like Hitchcock films.
The Kafkaesque nightmare of a man who has done nothing wrong, and yet who finds himself caught in a seemingly inextricable web of trouble.
For all of its meticulous practicality, the ultimate subject of the film is metaphysical. Fate, and even God, seem to have conspired against this man. He may be innocent of the crimes of which he is accused, but he's certainly guilty of something, and he becomes aware of it very quickly. Retracing his steps in the attempt to find an alibi forces him to look at his life with an exceptional care, and find all of his flaws exposed.
In the scene where he's taken to the station house and fingerprinted, the ink on his fingers looks to an innocent man like the presence of the mark of Cain."
excerpted from Richard Brody's New Yorker piece on The Wrong Man (Alfred Hitchcock, 1956)