Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor
Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.
I never thought I’d find a YouTube audio/video mashup that amused me to the extent of my beloved Snatch Wars, but I was way wrong. Watch this little gem and marvel over the amount of time, patience and creativity that went into this. If you know anything about its creator or inception – please share.
Amazing Pulp Fiction Audio Mashup
Are you as impressed as I am right now? Do you have a favorite movie mashup we might not have seen? Do tell, motherfucker.
When I re-read posts from the dawn of Pye in the Face, it’s been so long ago now that it feels like someone else wrote them. Especially if I haven’t seen them since the day they were published. Today’s throwback made me laugh out loud. Hard. I had to share.
Gremlins make poor Exorcists. Funny stuff.
Back in 2005 I mused about growing older, bemoaned how long I’d been in the same Boston apartment and started facing the fact that at 31 it was time to grow up. At least a little. My first baby step was to redecorate my bedroom.
Let me just say what you’re all thinking – My bedroom looks like the Chinese curio shop in Gremlins, if it were managed by a 12-year-old homosexual.
Little did I know at that time the evil set of circumstances which was about to befall my immediate family. Almost five years on from when I first wrote this I now really know what it means to mature. And I suppose everyone’s reasons for eventually doing so differ from person to person. I was forced kicking and screaming into it nearly 20 years after I graduated from high school. You might have felt it hit you the moment you were handed your diploma. You might also be divorced now, never see your kids and work in a miserable middle management job which forces you to consider eating a gun every night by candlelight. So I’m comfortable with my former Peter Pan ways, Tink.
Read my full post about growing up and I hope you get a giggle.
“Vhy yes, Dr. Jones. My tramp stamp IZ a profile of Lenin. You have problem vith this?”
I read about this recent Indiana Jones Marathon in Santa Monica (Appropriate since Harrison Ford has his own private hangar at the Santa Monica airport,) and was pleasantly surprised when, unbeknownst to me, my friend Sean not only attended but took the time to send me a photo he snuck of one of the sacred movie prop relics on display. He also wrote to describe the event and although Harry didn’t how up and start whipping the front row screaming “Get a life, would you people? It’s just a movie!”, I thought I’d share this pentultimate popular culture experience here on PITF.
“Dave – The picture below I took for you for you because you couldn’t be there to join in. I spent 7 hours in a seat watching Indy 1 through 3 last night at the Aero Theater here in Santa Monica. Just out of camera range below this was the broken stone tablet prop and matching shield from Indy 3 that tells Indy how to get to Alexandretta.
In this picture is the actual Staff of Ra headpiece prop used in the shot in the “Well of Souls” when Indy puts the staff into the correct slot and the beam of light hits the resting place of the ark. The gem in the middle of this piece is actually amber in color but was colored red in the editing because a red gem didn’t show well in the original shot. (if you watch the original film cut, the jewel is red at first, then as it seats, is amber for a spit second as the light hits it and then is red again) The larger version that Marion wears as a medallion in Nepal and then is later examined by the wise man in the “bad dates” scene is about a third larger than this one and is now on display at the Smithsonian in Washington DC.
This is the piece they also shot a green laser through to define the SFX beam on the floor model of Tanis . Then they enhanced the laser to an amber color as the glowing sun beam that blinds the audience when Indy locates the spot where the ark is buried. It is owned by Richard Edlund , the VFX supervisor for Indy 1. Edlund was one of the guests at the showing.
Rumor has it that this same headpiece once resided on Lucas’ mantelpiece along with the Mercedes Benz truck ornament that Indy snapped off the truck in the famous “out-the-windshield” scene at the Skywalker Ranch until he gave it to Edlund as a birthday present years later when he retired from the day to day business at ILM .
Fortune & glory, kid. Fortune & glory. – Sean”
Coincidently I recently forced several uninitiated folk to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark for the first time a few weeks ago (young ‘uns. Go figure). Unless I was being completely messed with – they were blown away and could not believe they’d wasted their lives so far watching summer movie tripe like Transformers. It felt good. My ridiculously large DVD collection and I will always be here for the youth of Ontario.
Forwarding viral videos isn’t really my thing, so when I make an exception you can be sure I’m either incredibly technically impressed or have just recovered from an incapacitating 20 minute gut-wrenching belly laugh. This afternoon I was the victim of a little of both – stop what you’re doing and watch this.
Guy Ritchie’s Snatch
Snatch is by far the superior movie, and someone with an appreciation for the vocabulary of lead villain “Bricktop” comparable to my own has created a brilliant mashup using footage from Star Wars. Darth Vader’s dialogue is substituted for that of Bricktop and incredible hilarity ensues. For the love of God, do yourself a favor and enjoy this masterpiece:
“You stop me again while I’m walking and I’ll cut your fucking jacobs off”
The marriage of specific scenes with dialogue is incredible, and you haven’t lived until you’ve seen Vader choke one of his Imperial underlings and then call them a “cunt” for good measure. He also appears to have a penchant for tea which I didn’t know about. What did you think?
I wrote a high school paper about the world-famous Ernesto “Che” Guevara and I remember being more than a little confused as to why he was revered by the left, particularly many actors and musicians of which I was a fan, as such a superhero. As I was a long-banged, Smiths-listening lefty by association (young, dumb and full of… Morrissey) I tended to side with my similarly spoon-fed friends and decided I dug the guy – although in my own defense I never, ever, owned one of those fucking Che shirts
“Knowing what we know, why do we still celebrate him?” – Paul Berman
In the years since my compass has drifted, thankfully, farther to the right. That having been said, I was still excited to devote 4 hours of my life to watching Steven Soderbergh’s Che – and I did so, in one sitting, late Monday night. I certainly enjoyed the movie as entertainment. It felt authentic, gritty, was action-packed and engaging all the way through the Cuban revolution, his operations in the Congo (which are only briefly mentioned by another character and almost wholly omitted from the film) and to the final battles in the Bolivian jungle. To the uninitiated this film’s protagonist would definitely appear to be a revolutionary hero. The movie’s slant is in no way conflicted on this point.
Killer Chic: Hollywood’s Sick Love Affair With Che Guevara
From the above video: It’s something that baffles Cuban jazz legend Paquito D’Rivera. “Che hated artists, so how is it possible that artists still today support the image of Che Guevara?” Turns out the rebellious icon that emblazons countless T-shirts actually enforced aesthetic and political conformity.
My problem with the film has nothing to do with acting, timeline, 85% Spanish dialogue, cinematography or any other technical or aesthetic aspect. It’s solid celluloid. I will never, however, recommend it to anyone under the age of 25 who’ve never read at least a couple of books/articles on the man, preferably one from each side of the aisle. If “Che” Parts 1 and 2 are the only point of reference for a young mind, which they will undoubtedly become once the DVDs are released later this year, you’d think the guy was a cross between Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman and Davey Crockett.
A large percentage of Cubans remember him as the “the butcher of La Cabaña” and he is considered by many others to be the genesis of continuing politically-charged brutality in the regions he directly influenced – and many that he did not. Fischer Price: My First Revolution, if you will. As Del Toro’s Che tells Lou Diamond Phillip’s character, “A coup without an army behind it never stands a chance“. Lou Diamond, fresh on the heels of his tour-de-force performance on the George Lopez Show, nods stoically. I have to be honest here though – I think there are 12-yr-old white girls in Northern Minnesota who know they have a better chance of spotting a Yeti than seeing a revolution without violence. Then they get to college and some unkempt 3rd-year activist convinces them otherwise, signs them up for a candlelit vigil during which he tries to finger her and then buys her a Che shirt the next morning as an apology. Does anyone else see the irony in that?
The leanings of Soderbergh and his Hollywood pals are no secret, but there’s “spin” and then there’s blatant omission. Stevey can argue that he does indeed show Che ordering executions. Two of his own troops who deserted, raped and then torched the house of peasants are shot during the first half of the film. (So what you’re saying is that many of his victims deserved to be blown away in jungle clearings. I get it now, and I still love you and your t-shirt, Johnny Depp!). He can also point out that during once scene, shortly before he is dispatched, one of the Bolivian soldiers remarks, “Guevera assasinated my Uncle”. As far as ticks in the “definitely not any kind of hero” column, those calculated, punch-pulling critical additions to the film are just the tip of the firing squad.
About a year ago I was at an Irish pub in Ottawa, Ontario and watched a group of about 30 twenty-somethings, obviously on some sort of bar crawl, stumble through the door all at once. To my dismay I noticed that they were all wearing identical neon-green t-shirts with the infamous Che visage boldly printed on the front. To prove a point to my companions, I told them I’d pay the tab for the entire night if just one of the misguided students pressed against our table like sardines could both a) identify and correctly pronounce the name of the man on their spiffy new shirt and b) tell me why they admired him. I made my point after speaking to about five of them and drank for free into the wee hours.
I’m no expert on the man, but I’ve definitely gone further out of my way over the last 20 years to be able to form an honest, objective opinion of his deserved legacy than the vast majority of my peers – a desire based in large on my early exposure to a book on the Cuban Revolution which my parents had in their house. I’ll shut up now. Spend the money you’re thinking of laying down for one of these incredibly inappropriate (you now know that Che vehemently disliked artists and musicians) t-shirt, dog tag or knit hat symbols of your progressiveness and spend it instead on a book like The Che Guevara Myth and the Future of Liberty
The site from which I used to spelunk my quizzlet questions each Friday has unfortunately gone the way of the Dodo. I’m quite happy to make the questions up myself – but that seems pretty disingenuous. I’d also like to reboot the sense of community we had here on Pye in the Face in years past and encourage reader participation. See where I’m going with this?
Using my Facebook status and Twitter account I’m going to invite all of you to submit the 5 questions which normally make up Friday’s Quizzlet. If folks care enough to get involved maybe I’ll be able to do this every week. I’d also like to invite people to answer the questions themselves in the comments like so many of you used to do in PITF’s golden era. Monday I’ll also be reinstating the Quotelet contest – with real prizes this time around. Sound fun? I’m certainly looking forward to it. Update: Thanks for all the submissions, folks. Here we go.
Appetizer: It’s a common observation that people’s pets resemble them in some way. What are 3 similarities between you and your pet? – Amy K.
1. Shepherd is loyal to a fault. You could say that, however, about every dog that has ever lived. “Want me to follow you into traffic? OK!” Although my “gut feelings” are usually quite dependable there have been a few times in my life where I spent time and energy on fixing people – when I should have been taking out the garbage. Or walking into traffic.
2. Shepherd digs his sister. Janet and I have been very close (since we stopped living together at our parent’s) and we both value each other’s support. For obvious reasons this has become especially important recently and also explains how my 5-day business trip to Boston has turned into over 3 weeks at this point. I’m reminded of Belushi’s SNL skit, “The Thing That Wouldn’t Leave”. But she swears she isn’t. We’ll see what she thinks in another 3 weeks.
3. Shepherd is fascinated by deer poo. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, people.
Soup: Has anyone ever really cared when Jimmy cracked corn? – Megan C.
Yes – it’s quite possible that over the years at least a few people have cared. I’m assuming that to “crack” corn is to husk it and thought up some possible examples.
So next time you want to hate on Jimmy the corn cracker, Megan, try showing a little compassion instead. Cornpassion, even.
Salad: What’s your favorite Bonnie memory? Sorry that’s personal but I’d like to hear it. – Mary C-B.
It’s obviously impossible to pick just one. There was an amusing recent occurrence, however, which happened up at the lake house about 3 summers ago. I bugged and bugged my mother to get on the back of a jetski with me, which she was absolutely dead set against. After taking a couple of test runs back and forth across her line of vision, I came back to the dock in one piece and finally coerced her to climb on. She got out of her lawn chair which was set up on the dock beside Gordo and several neighbors and they cheered her on as she straddled the evil, motorized sea beast.
The voyage started out well-enough, with Mom giggling and mock-screaming as she held on to my waist for dear life. Then it all went horribly wrong. Anyone with jetski experience will hammer home one piece of advice to a newbie – never decelerate in a turn. I did just that, right in full view of the dock spectators, and Bonnie and I rolled arse-over-tit beneath the waves in a split second. I climbed back on my steed but Mom had had quite enough and dog-paddled all the way back to shore as we both endured comments from the peanut gallery (well, I got a lot more shit than she did). I tied up at the dock myself about 20 minutes later. As I passed by my father he beckoned for me to lean down before whispering in my ear: “Thanks a lot, asshole. Now she’ll never let me get one.”
Main Course: Which crime would you make punishable by death, and how would the guilty be executed? – Gary P.
Child abuse. Particularly that of a diddly nature. Most states will already execute you for killing a child. Ruining the rest of their life via mental scarring will only get you a comparably short jail sentence followed by a “This Guy is a Diddler” sign on your front lawn. I’ll need more time to devise the ideal method of diddler dispatch, but I can tell you that it will definitely be slow, will definitely be painful and will definitely involve… diddling.
Dessert: Why hasn’t Will Smith insisted on starring in films with better storylines? – Angie F.
I have to assume here that you’re speaking specifically about the two cowboys fighting the giant robotic spider in 1880’s California? If you’re not, you should be. At least you get to see Bai Ling’s buttocks in that pile of garbage, which on second thought isn’t much of an incentive. Seven Pounds put me to sleep quicker that a mallet to the temple, but I think recently his choices have been quite sound. I really enjoyed I Am Legend, Pursuit of Happyness and Hancock. Your theory about Will’s bad choices may come back into fashion, however, as I see his next movie in production is entitled Monster Hunter. I’d like to go on record as saying I hope that movie involves at least one Sasquatch pursuit.
One of my favorite bands of all time write a song dedicated to my favorite movie of all time. How could I not take 5 minutes out of my busiest week in years to comment on this?
Being fans of the Vangelis film score, Blade Runner, we always wanted to write an imaginary song for the closing credits on Ridley Scott’s classic… It’s called Jetstream… Cheers.
If you’re a fan of The Doves you can download “Jetstream” as an MP3 for free off their official website – right this instant. The forthcoming album is titled “Kingdom of Rust and will be available in early April.
And obviously the Kingdom of Nerds couldn’t contain themselves long before actually setting the new song over the flick’s end titles and uploading it to YouTube. Well, sorta. From the YouTube page:
Blade Runner closing images don’t last long enough to enjoy the whole song. So there it is: Doves’ Jetstream song combined with the (fake) Blade Runner end titles reconstructed… using shots from The Shining, Koyaanisqatsi, Mar Adentro & other movies.
I knew that in 1981 Ridley Scott contacted Stanley Kubrick and asked him for extra footage that was originally filmed for The Shining when asked by the studio to make Blade Runner’s ending more upbeat. The scenes in question consisted of forests filmed from a helicopter which I assume were originally slated for helping create the Overlook Hotel’s sense of isolation.
“I’ve seen things you Mancurians wouldn’t believe.”
Does the tune work when played over this cobbled-together series of Runner-esque clips? Regardless, I think it’s a cool premise to admit to on the eve of your first album release in four years. I have high hopes for the record but I highly doubt Jetstream will end up being my favorite track. Having a new Doves record right around the corner, however, makes me happier than a Nexus 6 with no incept date.
Regardless of how many adult die hard James Bond
Silhouette of Violent Impending Death
Enter Mr. Daniel Craig. Initially, although I’ve been a fan since I first noticed him in Road to Perdition, I didn’t like him for the next James Bond
My point and do I have one? After first seeing the 22nd Bond film, Quantum of Solace almost a week ago, I have read a slew of State-side reviews and they all not-so-cleverly compare the flick to a modern action franchise that has become the standard by which all others are measured – and rightfully so. “The name is Bourne. Jason Bourne.” I can accept this to a point, but many people that find the pint-sized Matt Damon completely believable as the rouge agent are absorbing this comparison hook, line and sinker.
It’s important to remember a few things before daring to mouth the word “ripoff“. The Bond
The other talking point reviewers are parroting this weekend, however, is that the new movie is a step back for the new Bond. Again, I have to bring you folks back down to reality (my reality, anyway). Royale
The very first scene of the movie is a heart-stopping, hairpin car chase through the mountains of Italy, during which many of Quantum’s (S.P.E.C.T.R.E. for the new millennium,) goons are dispatched into the next life – and the action rarely slows down for the duration. The subtle set up, character development and tie-ins to Fleming’s world were already established in Casino Royale
Although I definitely bemoan the absence of John Cleese’s Q, Judi Dench and Jeffery Wright are on hand and effective as M and Felix. There is one other “character” from the Bonds of yester-year that is noticeably absent. The uber-villain. I don’t need to see white cats, boomerang hats and stainless steel dentistry in every film, but we’ve got to do a bit better with the main nemesis’ in these otherwise wonderful reboots. So far we’ve had a twitchy Frenchman with a penchant for knots and a slightly grumpy, bug-eyed environmentalist, also French. I’d like the first scene of the next script to read something like this:
INT. ORBITING SPACE STATION – TIME OF DAY IRREVLEVANT BECAUSE IT’S FRIGGING SPACE
Cigarette smoke and Russian dialect fills the control room. From the vantage point of a CAGED PRISONER, we see TWISTED FUCK BENT ON WORLD DOMINATION enter through an automatic door with a visible limp, metallic hand and boa constrictor around his neck.
I don’t need cufflink darts, tuxedos or Lotus Esprits. I do need a British protagonist who is also a semi-sadistic womanizing thug and a villain with some sort of mental illness and the potential to give young children nightmares. I hope we can compromise on those points, Barbara Broccoli – but otherwise, fantastic job thus far. I am drinking a second huge martini of relief.
When men hit their mid-50s they usually buy a convertible sports car. When men hit their mid-30s (and are secretly huge movie nerds) they usually combine and display action figures on shelves. And then die alone for all of their troubles. I’ll be turning the big 3-5 this Pearl Harbor Day (that’s December 7th and yes I do have an Amazon Wish List, thank you for asking) so when I began getting urges to do the latter I simply accepted it. I went with it. It’s who I am. Dave Pye – the font of useless pop culture knowledge who will watch the same movie over and over until his eyes bleed – and it’s usually Blade Runner.
Shall I pull my pants down and show you the jewels… of my personal collection? Super then. Top shelf Indy, bottom shelf Star Wars. Let’s start with the Indiana Jones conglomerate, left to right. First we have a genuine leather satchel, designed to look like the one Indy wears, with the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull logo burned into the lower right corner. Spielberg had them made by the Canadian company Roots (more details) as gifts for all of the cast and crew. I found it on eBay last month when I was looking for additions to my Halloween costume and couldn’t help myself. In the background we have an electronic whip, a Spalko action figure and three lego sets – all from the newest movie. Next we have four prop replicas – a Sankara Stone from Temple of Doom, the Hovitos Fertility Idol and Staff of Ra Headpiece from Raiders of the Lost ark and a bullwhip.
Ladies, all of this could be yours. Form a line to the left.
The Star Wars shelf contains a couple of items that are actually worth quite a bit of money on the open dork market. On the far left we have a modern little Chewbacca beanie baby. Behind that is a stuffed R2D2 doll with a little red button that squeaks that I got for Christmas in 1977. In front of that is a remote control R2, the controller long since lost, which I believe I got in 1981 when Empire Strikes Back came out. Next up is an original Han Solo Blaster, with no chips, the sticker intact and it still works.
Beside the blaster is a Canadian-version, bi-lingual copy Han Solo figure. The packaging is in pristine condition and I found the little guy whilst cleaning out one of my grandmother’s closets last summer. She must have bought it for me for Christmas in ’77 and hidden it from my 4-year-old self in said closet – where it became lost for three decades. As I was cleaning out her home due to the fact that she is now in a long term care facility out of her mind and near death, the discovery choked me up. It was like a last gift from her to my inner-child. Nerd or not – you have to admit that’s pretty gosh darn cool. Thanks for everything, Claire. You did an excellent job with Janet and I.
“Pardon-et-moi? C’est la Guerre des E’toiles, cocksackeer!”
Next up is a rubber Yoda puppet in decent condition, still with all of his white yarny hair, which was given to me in 1981 and then finally bookended with another modern beanie baby version of the same little green Jedi master. All told and in retrospect a decent little collection of movie paraphernalia. Which begs the question – guys and gals: what are your most treasured trinkets from childhood? More Star Wars stuff? A little G.I. Joe or Rainbow Bright, perhaps? Maybe it’s just me, but I sincerely doubt it. Don’t leave me hanging here, folks.
Indiana Jones 4 came and went. It provided me with nearly a year of anticipatory nerdery, the likes of which I never thought I’d enjoy again. Today I’m glad to say I was wrong. From IMDB:
Steve Carell and Seth Rogen are to reteam for a new Ghostbusters movie, according to Internet reports. The funnymen are at the centre of a huge new movie rumour, which has been reported by DreadCentral.com. According to “a reliable source, who cannot be named”, Carell and Rogen will join the original four Ghostbusters, Dan Akroyd, Bill Murray, Harold Ramis and Ernie Hudson, for a third film. According to the website, the original GhostBusters stars will hand over their “proton packs” to the new guys, for what insiders believe will be a new run of spook-chasing movies.
I remember reading once that the GB franchise was going to be revived in the mid-nineties, starring Chris Farley and Chris Rock among other younger talent. And I know that there is a next generation console Ghostbusters game in development with Akroyd and others lending their voices and even helping to write the underlying story. Am I just a ginormous toolshed? Or is this really cool news? Maybe don’t answer that.
I can sum up my opinions on the intricate and supreme masterpiece that is The Dark Knight in only one word: holy fucking shit, Batman. Everyone involved in the movie, from Chris Nolan right on down to the art director, brings their A-game and this is really one for the ages.
This summer has been a complete mental overload for me in terms of anticipated movies. I have now seen 2 of my top 3 – Indy 4 and TDK – with Tropic Thunder still a month away. The new Batman film, coupled with the remarkable Iron Man, have renewed my faith in the Superhero genre which I haven’t really paid any attention to since I was a little kid watching Superman II at an Ottawa-area drive-in. Not since General Zod came to town have I given a rat’s hindquarters about caped crusaders and I am glad to say that Bale, Freeman, Gyllenhall, Caine, Oldman, Eckhart and especially Ledger have slapped me back into DC/Marvel fandom.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSZkAIi7U-o[/youtube]
But it’s easy enough to parrot what everyone else is going to tell you about the film, so whilst I slurped coffee/played Scrabulous this morning I tried to really pinpoint reasons and moments behind Dark Knight kicking me in the bat-balls.
I could go on, but I have a BBQ in Barhaven I must attend. Get your little bat-bottoms to this outstanding piece of cinema and I hope you enjoy it half as much as I did.
In 1981, when I was 8 years old, my father brought me to see Raiders of the Lost Ark in Ottawa, Ontario. He was a stoic man to whom fatherhood did not come naturally, but we always found our common ground at the movie theater. I remember the night well, from the amazing film itself right down to checking the back seat of our Zephyr for mummies on the way home. Tomorrow, I am taking him to that same city to see Kingdom of the Crystal Skull – and the circle will be complete.
The only thing more unlikely than a fourth Indiana Jones movie might be that I once again live near Canada’s capital city… or maybe the fact that my 66 year-old father has a form of dementia that makes Alzheimer’s look like a garden party. If someone had told me several years ago that any of those 3 events were right around the next corner I’d have cheered, packed a snowsuit and then punched a wall in that order. Situations are what they are, and I hope that he enjoys himself and retains memory of the day to the extent that he can. It’s extremely strange to feel yourself slowly starting to grieve for someone who you still see everyday. It doesn’t take a narration by Freud’s ghost to explicate that the trip tomorrow is really for me.
I don’t often get personal on this blog, because sentimentality doesn’t tend to fit in well with giant squid news and dead hooker jokes, but the last couple of months have been rough. Things are sinking in, priorities shifting, novelties wearing off and I am starting to – dare I say it – grow up. I have to perform some calculated fat-trimming to my personal and professional life if I’m to be truly prepared for my next adventure. Sometimes, closure wears a fedora and hates snakes.
From IMDB:
“Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull has proved a huge hit at the Cannes International Film Festival on Sunday – receiving a standing ovation from critics at its world premiere. The fourth installment of Steven Spielberg and George Lucas’ famous adventure franchise was one of the most eagerly awaited screenings at the French event, attracting a huge amount of hype and publicity. But weeks of speculation threatened to tarnish the premiere after rumors suggested the film had been panned by movie bosses at an exclusive initial screening in Los Angeles last month. However, the film – which sees 65-year-old Harrison Ford return to the role of Indiana Jones after a 19 year gap – was praised by the world’s media, reportedly garnering a three and a half minute standing ovation by the select few who were invited to watch it, according to American industry publication Variety.”
Having waved most of his salary for back end points, Harrison nervously waited outside the Cannes theatre.
