Having just enjoyed Orson Welles' F for Fake--a "commendable exercise in free-form vainglory," says me--in which Orson took me by the hand, sat me down at his table, fattened me up, talked a little bit about the blurred line between real and fake, and then ate me, I decided to go googling for more.

APPRECIATE ME: A Festival of Old Orson Welles is what I've decided will be taking place in my apartment, over the course of the next two months. The harder they fall, the more we must appreciate them.

Specific dates, times, and films TBA.

. . .

Two teasers, if you will:

This, infamous outtakes from a frozen peas radio spot. Orson, in the twilight of his more desperate years, calls some ad hacks on their crappy copywriting.*

And this. Poor, drunken Orson trying to sell champagne. Such a shame.


*The Frozen Peas outtakes came from UbuWeb's 365 Day Project, for which we can all be grateful. It's part of their Outsiders collection. Approach. with. lots. of. caution. You will waste time there.


UPDATE: I changed my mind. The festival will be called Seven Weeks for Old Orson.



Tom, November 10, 2005, 1:33 AM       (link here)