Today the House inaugurates a new feature: each morning, the editors will post a series of weblinks that we think will spark discussion. Comments encouraged.
1. "What Is It?": Slant Magazine editor Ed Gonzalez details his strange interlude with the inimitable Crispin Hellion Glover.
["...I ran back down to Anthology Film Archives past trailers for a motion picture shooting in the area and thought that at least Hollywood was unafraid of slumming this far downtown. I pulled on the door and, finding it locked, peered inside for a publicist. A man approached and, after opening the door, I could see that it was Crispin Glover. "Hello," he said, kindly but without introduction. Already I could tell this was going to be a surreal morning."]
2. "A Few Great Pumpkins—First Night": Reverse Shot's robbiefreeling on John Carpenter's The Fog.
["What's most surprising about The Fog, and why it holds up so well 26 years after its release and one year after its severely loathed teeny-bopper remake, is that its central ghost-story hokum (about long-dead leper fishermen who have returned to the cursed Antonio Bay hundreds of years after the town's elders murdered them and stole their gold, looking for revenge) works in perfect deference to the lovely imagery."]
3. "Unsettling Truths": A feature story from North Carolina's News & Observer on film critic/filmmaker Godfrey Cheshire's upcoming documentary Moving Midway.
["Everybody in the Hinton family knew about the ghosts that inhabited Midway, the last-built of at least seven of their plantations that once stretched across the Neuse River basin like an heirloom quilt."]
4. "Velázquez of the Day": Blogger and cinephile Zach Campbell provides insight into Diego Velázquez's painting The Needlewoman.
["The Needlewoman (1640). A simple portrait in whose details we can find a template for the cosmos.]
5. "Nighthawks: A Celluloid Fantasia": Peter Gelderblom of 24 Lies A Second with a new kind of critical essay.
["The rodent gazed at his blood-covered gloves under the gleaming neon light and wondered what the hell just happened. Only moments ago he had been standing on his renowned pinnacle surrounded by roaring ocean, orchestrating stars, comets, clouds and bolts of lightning across the nocturnal sky. Everything after that was a blur, as if a blind rage had taken possession of his body. Now, here he was: Mickey Mouse, standing on a sidewalk of 42nd street, dwarfed by mighty skyscrapers in the City that Never Sleeps. Hello reality, or what passed on for it anyway."]