EF Education’s Live the Language campaign shows how learning the basics of foreign language helps enrich the spirit of travel through the pairing of typography and cinematography. It makes for a beautiful combination.

There are eight total. They are all fantastic.

Via: “The Beautiful Typography of Live the Language” at Drawar.

Because those stars? They go to ELEVEN.

Certain films foster a certain level of fanaticism: Monty Python, Star Wars, Spinal Tap, among hundreds. IMDB not only acknowledges this fanaticism, but also takes part in it, and that is beyond awesome.

Via @gadgetopia.

Go ahead. Count ON YOUR FINGERS the amount of awesome in that video. I DARE YOU to do so without then taking off your socks to use your toes.

2.
It is understood that Lumiere, Cogsworth and Ms. Potts are former humans who have come under the same enchantment as the Beast. But what about the hundreds of additional “objects come to life,” especially those in the “Be Our Guest,” scene. Are each of these assumed to be former staff of the prince? Every knife a servant, every cup one of Mrs. Potts sons, every feather duster a maid? Or are we to assume that SOME of the items are former people, and SOME of the items are simply enchanted, and ONE ottoman in particular is actually a dog. Where do we draw the line?

3.
Where does the food come from? It would be quite a feat for a bunch of castle-bound formerly inanimate objects to conjure up daily meals – let alone the dancing feast performance of “Be Our Guest” without sending SOMEONE to the grocery store. Maybe they subscribe to a delivery service. Maybe *gasp* the food is former staff as well.

4.
Was there ever an investigation into Gaston’s fall from the castle?

5.
Am I thinking about this too much?

From the article:

Turning a 40-page book, half-filled with pictures, into a feature-length movie is daunting, and judging by recent attempts, fraught with failure. (The Cat in the Hat, The Polar Express, and Curious George immediately come to mind, though I have admittedly not seen a one of them.) Matt Kirby identified the main pitfall of the process when he wrote, “Picture books are an art form altogether different from other types of literature. For me, they are an alchemy of story, poetry, and image, almost impressionistic works.”

I tend to agree with every point of the article. While I understand the difficulty in adapting books this short, there has to be a certain level of consistency.

In this case, both books take a different approach to adaptation – Wild Things’ trailer is steeped in the same imagery and soul that made the book such a beautiful exercise in imagination, while Cloudy’s trailer shows a ham-fisted attempt at recreating The Incredibles, only this time with food.

(I’ve already made it known which one I’m most excited for.)

What made Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs so iconic – and cemented its legacy as, hands down, my favorite children’s book of all time – was the art. The hand drawn illustrations, looking more like a Wall Street Journal staff picture than the typical children’s art, showed great detail in documenting something so implausible, yet so creative.

It’s a wonderful article for those who love both books, highlighting how one film replicates the feeling of the book, while the other recreates it.

[ROB GORDON walks up to a bar. From the entrance he can hear MARIE DE SALLE singing “Baby I Love Your Way.”]

ROB: [Pauses, incredulously] “Is that Peter fucking Frampton?!”

Far be it from me to comment on boring local news – I’ll leave that to the dude who runs SD Watch – but Kerrie pointed out that the Sioux Empire Fair will be featuring Alice Cooper, Big and Rich and some cowboy rapper. All acts that I’m sure will sell out.

Oh. And Peter Frampton.

Which gives the two of us ample reason to live out one of the best lines in movie history. Or, at least, one of the best lines in High Fidelity.

That’s all. I’ll end the Hornby/Cusack lovefest now.

P.S.

My favorite line of the article: “The fair said it still is negotiating for a hot rock act.” I can’t wait to see who THAT’S going to be. What, is Hoobastank still around?

Oh, god. They are.

And then this poster was released.

And then the trailer was released. (Click to see it. Seriously. I couldn’t embed it, but you need to stop right now and watch it.)

The idea of this film being as awesome as the trailer, as creative and brilliant as we could have ever wished for, nearly brings a tear to my eye.

And I’m not being hyperbolic.

(And yes. That IS Bill Murray. omgomgomgomgomgomgomg.)

And to me, it was touching.

The word doesn’t seem to fit. Touching? In a movie starring Jack Black? In a movie about re-recording video tapes because they’ve all been magnetized by some idiot in a junkyard?

Yes. Touching.

Be Kind Rewind’s premise is that an entire video store of VHS tapes has been ruined. Erased. And in order to keep the business afloat, a couple of guys take a camera and start remaking the movies. In order to fool the customers, they think.

What happens, though, is that people enjoy the remakes for what they are. They become very popular. They see the power of what they’re doing, and they start offering their customers a part in the process.

This is where it gets touching. This is where the true story is. The heart of the film isn’t a group of zany antics and goofy spoofs. Be Kind Rewind is about inclusion, about being a part of the scene. About not settling for what the biggest entities give you – about carving out your own little niche.

It’s what strikes all of those who strive to be creative, who embrace an art form and want to make it theirs. They want to be part of the fun. They don’t just want to watch movies –they want to be in them. To see them as real. To influence the direction, to cater to themselves and people like them.

It’s what has led to the blossoming of user-generated content. Blogs allow those of us who love reading the published word to become published. Just as video cameras allowed us to make our own films, just as affordable cameras allowed us to become photographers.

Because at one point, it was impossible to be part of the scene without extraordinary talent, without the right connections and knowledge and schooling and tools. Over time, the line between production and audience has blurred. To the detriment of the art, I’m sure some would say. To the benefit of everyone involved, I’d argue.

In the end, we all want to be included. We have the urge to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. It’s a desire that wrenches our guts, that leaves us wanting, grasping for a place. Most of us would gladly do it without much credit, without much notice.

We’d know. That for one moment, we could touch the silver screen. For one moment, we could smell the chemicals from the dark room, the dust from the printing press, the sounds of the editing room. We could make our mark, be noticed, leave a legacy, leave anything.

That’s community. Everyone involved. At once. In harmony. Included in the process. Amazed by the product.

No, no. Not in any order. Just put them anywhere. Organize them by genre, but that’s it.

Vaguely update the sign. Sure, keep those neon paint cans. Reorganize some of the letters to spell “Fun.” Wait, no “F?” Go ahead and cut that “R” into shape. There you go. Perfect.

The Minnesota Avenue Video Mania Store (via Video Mania home page)

Did I mention having the movies in no order whatsoever? That’s important.

Perfect. Welcome to Video Mania. Or, to be specific, Video Mania Store 4 – The Fun Store.

But don’t stick around too long. It’s the only Video Mania remaining. And it’s closing.

Located right on Minnesota, The Fun Store was the most visible of Video Mania’s four stores and, for as long as I can remember, it’s most successful. It was one of the first video stores in the area to feature DVDs (hence, their claim as the city’s DVD Store) and when DVD rentals dipped, they became one of the only real Internet cafes in town.

Aside from this, they are best known for being a scary, sketchy chain of businesses. Video Mania was famous for not caring much about looking good. The most common fixture is duct-taped carpet. It’s staff could be more “escaped convict” than “friendly smile.” It’s where you went for a cheap movie. It’s where you went when your Blockbuster card had late fees.

And though the store was filthy, the staff unresponsive and the films unorganized, and though they’ve tried renting inflatable animals, video cameras and Internet access long after the industry was viable, Video Mania is still legendary. Legendary in the same way an old, failing bar with a cantankerous bartender is legendary, or a mangy cat with too many years. In a way that requires patience, that demands back story, that looks for a special kind of insider knowledge.

Legendary in its rundown nature. Legendary because it was here first, and because there are memories housed within its failing frame.

As a kid, I lived just blocks from Video Mania. And, as an avid Nintendo junkie, I was in love with the store for its revolutionary ideas.

Like 33-MARIO, the local phone number to see what new video game titles had arrived. (The recordings, always done by the store owner, Harlan, frequently referred to Ms. Pac-Man as “M.S. Pac-Man.”)

Or the Hourly-Arcade, a line of video game systems set up like an arcade, with hourly rates – a smorgasbord of choices, a way to keep us kids out of our parents hair.

Video Mania was the first place that bought and sold used video games in Sioux Falls. It was an early adopter of live, webcams, regardless of their relevance. It filled its walls with unclassifiable films and games; the kind that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Its selection was wildly varied, spanning the entire length of recorded film. Old, new, it all melded together, making each visit a certifiable treasure hunt, with only an old, very basic computer available to aid you in your search. It was dirty, and mean, and gross. But it was fun. And it was mine.

One by one, each Video Mania location has closed, their doors barred by a new breed of video store – one that catered to the clean, to the easy, to those who only wanted to watch new movies and had little time for searching or, in most cases, true aesthetics – and a new wave of online DVD delivery. In addition, the owner’s frequent troubles with newspaper vending machines has led to numerous fines and a heightened state of agitation. The lease on the second-to-last store was not renewed, and continued pressure has forced Harlan out.

Regardless of the reasons, Video Mania, now with just one location remaining, seemingly on life support for years, is having its plug pulled. Dutch Auctions have begun, with the stock being sold off to the first people to find the right value.

My dream? To go down during its last days and see if those neon letters are still for sale. The letters that broadcast the business’s frugality, their inattention to detail, their rock-bottom nature. That “F,” lovingly crafted from an “R,” the first letter in a grand promise – that inside those doors, through those plants, around the documentary section and into the back, would be a world of fun.

My fear, though, is that the building will be torn down, ground into rubble and forgotten. Another chapter in Sioux Falls local business torn away from the bindings, like so many others before.

With the “FUN” left to rust. With all of its filthy charms left to die.