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Link. you immediately watch #FilmTrix2004 or download Found on page Film Trix 2004 Film Trix 2004movie villain. Watch stream film trix 2004 pc. Watch Stream Film Trix 2004. Watch stream film trix 2004 trailer. #WatchOnline,FidelityLabs Watch #FilmTrix2004 2018 Online MOJOboxoffice Look there Film Trix 2004 movie villain. Watch Stream Film Trix 2004 relatif. Watch Film Trix Online Tvguide. Despite our increasingly digitized culture, interest in analog processes is still on the rise. At a time when most of what surrounds us are ephemeral computations of zeros and ones, there is an indisputable appeal to photographs shot on black-and-white analog film. For photojournalist Peter DaSilva, this appeal is rooted in having something tangible, “having an archive that’s not going to evaporate because the medium has changed or due to the incompatibility of files and systems. ” His distinctive style of run-and-gun street photography is unmediated and direct. “What I saw and how I captured it is how I’m showing it to you, ” he explains. “And once you get into a look and style of shooting, the film you use becomes a major part of that look. ” This is the fifth installment in a series featuring the many stories and myriad reasons prompting users to switch the brands they work with. To read about other photographer’s brand switches, make sure to visit the links at the end of this story. The following views expressed are those of the interviewee and do not necessarily represent that of B&H Photo. Photographs © Peter DaSilva Great Wall aerial performance; Oakland, CA. Camera: Rolleiflex 3. 5E3 Planar; Film: Ilford HP5 Plus; Exposure: 1/250 @ f5. 6 Analog film was a staple for DaSilva at the start of his 30-year career. Yet during the transition to digital, his role as a freelancer for the Associated Press in San Francisco made him an early digital adopter for work assignments. “I pretty much stopped shooting film for a while, but I got back to it about six or seven years ago, and decided that I might as well go for it, ” DaSilva says. Part of his motivation was the growing backlash about image manipulation in journalism circles. “I thought to myself, ‘If I shoot film, nobody can question it, ’” he says. 1% Sitting, Occupy Oakland; Oakland, CA. 5E3 Planar; Exposure: 1/250 @ f5. 6 While he continued shooting digitally for major clients such as The New York Times, if there was time at the end of a given shoot, DaSilva asked his subject(s) to pose for a few more shots on film. “I found a little niche with the way I shoot, ” he explains. “I would submit those images with my digital work, and editors slowly started to recognize this as different, and then started asking me to shoot film. ” A Distinctive Analog to Digital Workflow DaSilva shoots digitally with a 35mm-format Canon 5D Mark II, but his true camera of choice is the 120 format Rolleiflex twin lens reflex. He works with three different models of varied focal lengths—a Rollei Wide (55mm f/4), a Normal (75mm f/3. 5), and a Tele (135mm f/4). “The wide and the tele models are quite rare, with production runs of less than 4, 000 for the original vintage cameras, as opposed to 60, 000 to 80, 000 for their normal cameras, ” he says. “Depending on what I’m doing, I have all three cameras with me, either in a bag or in the car, ” DaSilva explains. “If I’m shooting on the street or doing portraits I’ll just pick a camera for that particular day or that situation. ” Since these cameras lack internal metering, DaSilva judges his exposures on the fly. “Shooting on the street, I don’t have any control over my light, so I could be in deep shadow in one frame and in bright sunlight in the next, ” he says. “My exposures are pretty accurate 90% of the time, but I try to land in the middle so I’m not blocking up my highlights. ” Commuters in financial district; San Francisco, CA. 5E3 Planar; Film: Ilford HP5 Plus; Exposure: 1/500 @ f8 Additionally, he compensates for hard-to-manage contrast situations after capture by developing his film to yield a flatter negative. This lower contrast is also advantageous to his system for copying images using his digital camera. “At first, I used a 4 x 5 Leaf scanner, “but it took forever to do a full scan, ” he says. “So, I went back to my roots of making dupe slides. I devised my own copy stand with my Canon D5 Mark II, and I shoot a raw file with my signature full-frame look. I’m able to have quite a bit more flexibility with a raw file than what you get with most scanner software, ” he adds. “I can take it anywhere, so as long as I have a digital camera with me I have a scanner. And, obviously, as cameras improve, my files will get better too. ” Making the Switch in Film Brands After counting on Kodak Tri-X film for his photojournalism work since the early 1980s, and adding Kodak T-Max to the mix for lit studio work in the mid-’90s, DaSilva switched to Ilford films about six years ago, first trying out Ilford HP5 and then expanding to Ilford’s Delta film line. “Long-term consistency is my foremost priority, ” he explains, “so my main consideration in making a switch was the unknown future and availability of Kodak films, as well as price increases. They were shutting down different film lines, certain chemistry wasn’t available anymore, and prices were going up. If you’re trying to be consistent about something, that’s not what you want when planning for the future, ” DaSilva says. Security check point, 10th anniversary of 9/11. Reading of names gathering at Ground Zero, New York; NY. 5E3 Planar; Film: Kodak TMax 400; exposure data not available His switch happened quickly, as prices started to rise, and as his consumption of film soared to some 300 to 400 rolls per year. “Once I started shooting hundreds of rolls annually, a couple of dollars per roll made a big difference, ” he adds. Comparing Brands and Film Stocks While quality considerations were not a primary factor in DaSilva’s switch, inherent differences between various film lines are worth mentioning. In general, he finds Ilford HP5 to have similar characteristics to Kodak Tri-X, while Ilford Delta films are a good comparison to Kodak T-Max, with finer grain and increased sharpness. Pedestrian under 405 freeway overpass; Los Angeles, CA. 5E3 Planar; Film: Ilford HP5 Plus; Exposure: 1/500 @ f8 “T-Max had a certain type of sharpness and Tri-X had a signature grain that seems to build up, ” he says. It definitely seems to block up more in the shadows than T-Max or Delta. So, your images are contrastier and the grain structure is a lot larger. It’s a texture that you don’t get with a fine-grain film—kind of like over-pixelated. ” When comparing Ilford films head to head, he finds the Delta series to be sharper than HP5, with a little bit more dynamic range. Also Fueling His Switch: Availability of High Speed Film Stock As DaSilva says, “Since most of my work is in a ‘run-and-gun’ street style, I shoot primarily 400 and 3200 ASA film. If I know I’m going to shoot in a studio or a lit situation, I’ll drop down to 125 ASA. ” Afternoon commuters in financial district; San Francisco, CA. 5E3 Planar; Film: Ilford Delta 400 Pro; Exposure: 1/500 @ f11 This stylistic preference for fast film yielded another important consideration in his decision to switch brands, due to the availability of Delta’s 3200 ASA film stock in 120 format. “I would have loved to stay with Kodak for certain reasons, but one thing that bothered me is that they never offered a 3200 ASA film in medium format, ” he explains. “Kodak 3200 ASA film only came in 35mm and the grain structure of that was not the greatest. ” Post-presidential election riots; Oakland, CA. Camera: Rolleiflex Wide 55 f4; Film: Ilford Delta 3200 Pro; Exposure Data: Pushed 3 stops; Exposure: 1/125 @ f4 While DaSilva generally rates Delta 3200 at 1600 ASA, he finds the film’s latitude to be “quite amazing, ” noting, “I recently pushed a roll approximately three stops and the grain structure held up surprisingly well. ” “This film has really opened up the way I work, ” he adds. “It’s given me so many possibilities for capturing something on a camera system with an aperture that maxes out at f/4 or f/3. 5, depending on which model I use. ” DaSilva’s Film Development Process When he first got back to analog processes, people were giving away darkroom equipment. “I didn’t have enough space for a full lab, but I did have enough room to put in a Wing Lynch processor to run my film, ” he says. Golden Gate Bridge from the Marin Headlands; Marin, CA. 5E3 Planar; Film: Ilford HP5 Plus; Exposure: 1/500 @ f11 On the road, DaSilva relies on a method from his days in wire service journalism by packing a darkroom in a couple of Pelican cases. “You were pretty much able to produce your images anywhere in the world, as long as you had some water and a space to process your film, ” he explains. Initially, he processed his film using Kodak T-Max developer, before switching to Ilford Ilfotec DD-X liquid concentrate in a 1:4 dilution. “I’m actually looking for a little bit of a flatter negative because of the way I do my scanning, ” he says “For 400 ISO film, my time is like 8 minutes. ” A Traveling Darkroom for a Historic Assignment In July 2016, DaSilva landed an assignment to shoot in his signature style that took him back to his roots in journalism, when ABC News hired him to photograph outside the Republican and Democratic National Conventions. “They called it A Different Look Outside the Conventions, so I was either shooting black-and-white portraits or getting general scenes of what was going on outside, ” he says. Indiana State Police during Republican National Convention; Cleveland, OH. 5E3 Planar; Film: Ilford Delta 400 Pro; Exposure: 1/250 @ f8 “I spent four days at each convention, and carried two or three bodies at a time, because I didn’t know what it was going to yield, ” DaSilva notes. “I averaged about 10 rolls per day, and worked out of a hotel room with two small cases, my chemistry and tanks, and whatever else I needed to run my film. ” With time at a premium, he used a single developing tank for four sequential film runs, juggling development, fix, and wash stages in tight succession. “When I was on deadline for the conventions, I wanted to be done in about an hour and a half, whereas it would take most people like three hours or more to develop the same quantity. ” After running the first tank normally and putting the film in a clearing bath, he dried the tank, rolled the next batch of film, and started development almost immediately. He used a single timer for everything, keeping the entire operation in his head. Downtown skyline during Republican National Convention; Cleveland, OH. Camera: Rolleiflex Tele 135 f4; Film: Ilford Delta 3200 Pro; Exposure: 10 sec. @ f8 “I don’t want to spend a lot of time shaking a tank, so when I’m developing the last tank, the first several rolls are in the dryer, the second batch is in the wash and the third is in the fixer. I use a film washer and hypo clear to minimize the amount of wash time, and a forced air film dryer, which is basically a hair dryer with a modified tank. Once you get the process started, it just kind of continues on, and it’s pretty efficient. ” Assignment Challenges versus the Benefits of a Tangible Archive DaSilva is the first to admit that his signature style is not the easiest thing to pitch to clients. “It’s not just because of the film, it’s more the format that gives you that look, ” he explains. “I’m pitching in the format that I shoot, which is full frame. I’d also prefer the images are published with borders, so it’s hard to put together a package unless it’s on the Web. Print publications have to fill a space, so they’ll wind up cropping things, ” he adds. Hawk in flight, Cypress Lawn Cemetery; Colma, CA. 5E3 Planar; Film: Ilford Delta HP5 Plus; Exposure: 1/125 @ f11 A primary concern of this work is DaSilva’s abiding interest in history or, more specifically, the loss of our digital history due to incompatible or outmoded digital processes. “Part of the reason I shoot film is to actually have a tangible archive that’s not on a hard drive, ” he points out. “If you have it on digital you have nothing to pass on to anybody. No one is going to go look through your hard drives later on. No one is going to pick up your phone and say, ‘Oh hey, I wonder what pictures are on here? ’ It’s a phone; they’re just going to toss it. ” With this in mind, the significance of DaSilva’s switch from Kodak to Ilford becomes even clearer. “I’m the type of shooter who just wants the brand to be available and consistent, ” he says. “Once you get into a look and style of shooting, the film you use becomes a major part of that look. So, I try to get as much on film as I can, ” he says, “which is probably more important to me these days than running around shooting digital. ” Woman doing yoga beside Bonneville Salt Flats; Tooele County, UT. Camera: Rolleiflex Tele 135 f4; Film: Ilford Delta 400 Pro; Exposure: 1/500 @ f11 To learn more about Peter DaSilva, click here to visit his website. Follow him on Instagram. To read the other stories in our series, Why I Switched, click here. Do you have a story or some insights to share about switching brands? If so, please add your voice to the Comments section, below.
Watch stream film trix 2004 hd. Kodak Plus-X, ASA 125, expired 1975, storage unknown. Rated at ASA 50 and exposed 4/2015, developed normally. Edge issues result from developing; contrast and grain are still extremely good despite this film’s 40-plus years. Daniel J. Schneider, used with permission If you’re shooting film already, you know that you need to develop a tolerance for uncertainty. Film can be fogged, or wrecked in development. Your shutter might drag or the mirror not swing up correctly. Without an LCD screen built into the camera, you have no way to check whether you got the shot—you’ve put your faith in your camera, your skill, and your film. It’s like doing a trust fall every time you release the shutter. Using expired film compounds the uncertainty, like jumping from an airplane with a parachute you just bought at an army surplus store. You don't know who packed it or what it may have suffered in all the years since then. Okay, maybe it's not that bad—there is a lot less to go wrong with a roll of film than a parachute, and a lot less riding on it—hopefully. What do you mean by 'expired? ' Short of being run over by a truck, a flash card is going to work more or less the same no matter when it was made. Not so with film, which uses chemical reactions instead of semiconductors to capture images. To make film, a gelatin paste full of silver salts is smeared onto strips of thin plastic and wound into rolls—pretty much. What's important here is understanding that the silver halides are modified by a chemical reaction when exposed to light or other forms of radiation. Film has expiration dates for several reasons. Over time, the sensitivity of the silver halides can begin to degrade. Cosmic and background radiation (as well as fallout from nuclear testing) may also cause the unmodified silver salts to be modified in random—and usually somewhat even—distribution, which reduces the number of available unexposed crystals and introduces noise. This is called fogging. In color films, there are multiple layers of silver halides interspersed with dyes and color masks. Dyes break down more quickly than the silver halides, and the multiple layers may degrade at different rates. Kodak Gold 100, expired 3/1993, unknown storage. Rated at ASA 100 and exposed 10/2015, processed normally. Note increased grain and decreased saturation. Schneider, used with permission Most films have an expiration date about two years after their month of manufacture. It’s more of a “best if used by” date. Some films even label it with something like, “for best results, develop by. ” The manufacturers are protecting themselves from complaints about the ever-increasing unpredictability of film as it ages, but there’s no reason you can’t still use film well past that date. Where do you get expired film? You can get it all over the place. There might even be some in your parents’ or grandparents’ attic. Independent drug stores, gas stations, and convenience stores might still have unsold film that’s been on the shelf for decades. Thrift stores sometimes have old stock that was donated by warehouses or retail chains. Estate and garage sales might have the film from the top of someone’s closet. Antique stores can be a good source of extremely old film, but the prices may be unreasonable. Any place that deals in film cameras likely has a supply of expired film that came in with lots of equipment. Craigslist and other online classified sites may occasionally turn up small quantities. The Film Photography Project sells some expired film stocks, too, which have been tested and will include the recommended speed rating in the description. You can even look on eBay if you’re brave enough, although it’s usually among the most expensive options. Kodak Ultra Color 400, expired 7/2003, storage unknown. Rated at ASA 200 and exposed 5/2015, developed normally. Note slight color shift and greatly increased grain. Contrast and saturation remain fairly good. Schneider, used with permission Does it matter how expired film was stored? Film stored cold—especially frozen—tends to degrade much more slowly. This is especially useful with color films for keeping the dyes from deteriorating. Frozen film is often just as good, or almost as good, as fresh film. Heat is film's worst enemy and can cause increased grain, color shifts, and in some cases, brittleness. “You can take a new roll of Fujicolor out in July, leave it in the car for one day, and it’s just awful, ” says Steve Frank of Old School Photo Lab. Fogging from background radiation isn’t a big problem, usually, until a film is more than a few decades old. If you find something 50 or 75 years old that was stored in a lead container or bomb shelter, it may well be considerably less fogged than if it had spent those decades in an attic or closet. Anything that was on the shelf before the spate of nuclear testing in the 1950s and early 1960s may be considerably more fogged than film just a little bit younger. Because everyone’s film is stored differently, even the same film stock with the same or similar expiration can behave in a wide variety of ways. One photographer’s results with a certain emulsion can be stunning while the another’s are unrecognizable. Fujifilm Superia 400, expired 4/2002, unknown storage. Rated at ASA 200 and exposed 9/2015, developed normally. Note extreme color shift, severely decreased contrast and uneven fogging. Grain is acceptable, however. Schneider, used with permission What kind of effects will you get from expired film? The primary effects of age on photographic film are decreased sensitivity and contrast, increased grain, and color shifts. Color shifts may be subtle or extreme, depending on both the age and the storage conditions. Different emulsions may shift different ways, some moving toward the blue and others toward the magenta or the yellow, because different dyes age differently. “All those layers just don’t want to grow old colorfully, and people frequently just don’t know how it was stored, ” says Frank. “Pushing might help some, but I don’t think it’s a savior. ” In many cases, with or without color shifts, saturation will be reduced. This can range from slightly muted colors to extreme desaturation bordering on selective color. With all films you can get a variety of unevenness—mottling or spotting, streaking, inconsistent grain, and so on. With paper-backed roll film, occasionally backing paper marks can soak into the emulsion where they come in contact, affecting how the film exposes and causing localized color shifts or increased grain. Basically, you can read the markings in the finished images. Any other special considerations for shooting with expired film? The older you go in terms of expiration date, the more factors you need to consider. In addition to expecting fogging, you’ll want to be aware of the required developing processes. It's no longer possible to develop Kodachrome (K-12 or K-14 processes), and may not be possible to develop color films designed for other defunct methods, such as the C-22 negative and the E-2, E-3, or E-4 transparency processes, since the chemicals no longer exist. It may be possible to recover images from some of these by developing them as black-and white or consulting experts like Film Rescue International or Rapid Photo. Pay attention to the film speed—slower films tend to fog less. High speed films (ASA 800 and up) may age very rapidly and even be unusably fogged after only a few decades. Kodacolor VR 100, expired 1985, unknown storage. Exposed with box camera. Note backing paper impression, grain, color shift, fogging, and uneven color. Schneider, used with permission Some formats may be harder to develop at home, requiring vintage developing tanks, reels, and the like. The format may also affect the longevity. " Old color rolls, wound tightly with paper backing, seem to suffer less, " advises Frank, adding that he suspects reduced oxidation is the reason. Both film and backing paper can become brittle after 50 or more years. To avoid breaking them, you may want to use a camera with a smooth and simple film path (not too many sharp turns), and be gentle when advancing the film. As with any film, let it come slowly up to room temperature if it’s been in the freezer or refrigerator before loading. Any age-related brittleness will only be compounded by the additional brittleness all films experience when they’re still cold. How to compensate for lost sensitivity with expired film Film speed is just a measure of the sensitivity of the emulsion on the film: The faster the film, the fewer photons required to modify the silver salts and produce an image. To compensate for lost sensitivity, it is possible to simply rate the film slower. In setting your exposure, you can pretend the box says ASA 25 instead of ASA 100, for example. The rule of thumb for color negative film is to rate it one stop slower for every decade since it expired, assuming you don’t know the storage conditions. Every expired roll is its own unique beast, so results may vary. I usually round down from the 1-stop-per-decade standard, meaning that I would expose ASA 400 for that expired 35 years ago as ASA 50, which is three stops slower. If I knew it had been frozen all that time, I’d probably rate it down one stop to ASA 200. If it was stored in a fridge or other cool, dry place, I’d split the difference and rate it at ASA 100. Black-and-white film holds up much better since it has only a single layer of silver halides, and no color dyes. I would rate it down one stop for every two decades, meaning all of the above is basically halved. Under 20 years old, I'd likely expose it only one-third of a stop over or at box speed (the manufacturer's recommended speed) if I knew it had been stored cold or frozen. Fujifilm Pro 160NPS, expired 1/1997, storage unknown. Rated at ASA 100 and exposed 7/2015, developed normally. Schneider, used with permission Slide film has less latitude than negative film, generally speaking, so nailing exposure is even more important for fresh or expired film. While I have had good luck with expired slide film, most avoid it. “The blacks go to nothing. You can push it, you can pull it—it’s just bad, ” says Frank. “I would steer anyone away from it if its origins and storage are unknown. ” Trial and error can help, though. If you can get multiple rolls of the same expired film, (same source, similar age, likely to have been stored together in the same conditions) you can experiment with one roll and refine. Bracketing your shots on the first roll may give you a better chance of getting pleasing results on subsequent rolls. For expired film, bracket around the speed you plan to rate the film, or use normal, one stop over, and two stops over (instead of one over and one under). When in doubt, overexpose. Negative films can handle quite a lot, and slide film generally tolerates overexposure better than underexposure. Can I compensate with developing? You sure can! Instead of overexposing the film, you can push it in development, and especially with extremely old film, you may want to use a combination of overexposure and push processing. Extremely old film is likely slow to begin with—ASA 50, 25, or even lower—so rating it down more than a couple stops might be difficult depending on your meter or camera. Note that pushing can exacerbate grain and the effects of heavy fogging. Using developers with strong restrainers, such as HC-110 or Microphen, can help reduce the effects of fogging. Microphen may also be able to compensate for a half-stop or more of lost sensitivity. The active ingredient in Kodak's discontinued Anti-Fog No. 1 was benzotriozole, and if you can get your hands on some from a lab chemical supplier, you can mix a 0. 2 percent solution and add 10–15 milliliters per liter to your developer to boost its restraining characteristics. Some photographers swear by Diafine for very old films. Diafine is a two-part, self-arresting developer that will protect highlights while continuing to act on shadow detail. The effect is similar to that of stand developing in very dilute developer, but faster. Both techniques may increase grain and decrease contrast. Presoaking your film a minute or three may also help developer penetrate the emulsion more quickly and evenly. You may also want to do a clip test on a thin strip cut from the end of the film. Kodacolor II, ASA 80, expired 7/1977, storage unknown. I will probably rate this film at about ASA 10 when I expose it. Schneider, used with permission All of the above applies to black-and-white film or to developing color as black-and-white. For C-41 or E-6 films, you can ask a lab to push process, though most labs will only push by one or two stops. At home, consult your kit's guide for push processing. Lastly, cross-processing (developing color slide film as color negative and vice versa) may be an option. Color shifts are guaranteed (even with fresh film), but cross-processing can add contrast, particularly to expired slide film. Why shoot expired film? There are two main reasons for using expired film: economy and enigma. Expired film, especially things that aren’t particularly old or unusual, can be dirt cheap. Lots of consumer and even professional color negative film that’s been well-stored and expired just a few years ago can be had for between 50 percent and 10 percent of the price of comparable fresh films, and still produce excellent results. Older films, particularly consumer films from the 1980s and 1990s, can be found for $1 (US) per roll or even less. That’s where enigma comes into play. For many photographers, using film of unknown provenance offers an unpredictability full of fun surprises. You may even get a variety of different effects on a single roll. Isopan FF, ASA 16, c. 1955. I expect heavy fogging, and will likely attempt to expose it at ASA 2 before developing in HC-110 at 1:63 for around 13 minutes. Schneider, used with permission What's the best expired film? There's really no right answer here. Ask other photographers, or Google for hours, and you'll find adherents to every emulsion, fresh or expired. Likely the most specific answer you'd get would be along the lines of " 400 speed, " or "Kodak. " Some classic emulsions, though, may fare better or offer more unique results than others. In general, the higher the silver content, the better— long-established brands like Kodak, Ilford, and Agfa are likely to degrade the most gracefully. Many much-loved emulsions have been discontinued, such as Kodak Portra NC or VC, Panatomic-X, or Ektachrome E100VS, Fujifilm Professional 160 VPS or Reala 100, and Agfa Optima. Finding them expired is the only way to experience the unique qualities of these emulsions today. Some films have been substantially the same for decades, and using old versions can give the same quality as fresh for a fraction of the price. This would include standbys like Kodak Tri-X and Ilford HP5. For example, both Old School Photo Lab and Film Rescue International report that Kodak Verichrome Pan often produces very good results with little to no compensation, even when it's 50 years old. Tungsten films haven’t been made fresh in years (discounting motion picture films, which are now available, fresh, in 35mm cassettes, from CineStill and others). If you want to see what Portra 160T or Fujichrome T64 look like, you’ll have to find them expired. Consumer films, such as Fuji Superia and Kodak Gold, may fare worse than professional films as they age. Grain, especially, can be very pronounced, and you may find you need to compensate by even more than the 1-stop-per-decade standard. And in a nutshell? The most important thing to remember with expired film is that you never know what you’re going to get. “It’s a real crap shoot, ” says Frank. Be prepared for things to turn out mediocre (or worse) sometimes and you’ll never be disappointed—but a lot of the time they’ll turn out fine. Once in awhile you’ll even get something really interesting or artistic. Now go dig through those closets and get out there!
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Редактировать удалить Рейтинг фильма — 15 IMDb: 5. 20 (29) об оценках и Top-250 Послать ссылку на email или через персональное сообщение * КиноПоиск не сохраняет в базе данных e-mail адреса, вводимые в этом окне, и не собирается использовать их для каких-либо посторонних целей Знаете похожие фильмы? Порекомендуйте их... Порекомендуйте фильмы, похожие на « » по жанру, сюжету, создателям и т. д. * внимание! система не позволяет рекомендовать к фильму сиквелы / приквелы — не пытайтесь их искать Отзывы и рецензии зрителей Добавить рецензию... Для того чтобы добавить рецензию на фильм Film Trix 2004, необходимо войти на сайт → Заголовок: Текст: Нашли ошибку? Добавить инфо → Мнение друзей Найдите друзей, зарегистрированных на КиноПоиске, и здесь появятся оценки, которые ваши друзья поставили этому фильму... Film Trix 2004 Film Trix 2004, 2004 Подписка на обновления... подписался 1 человек Результаты уик-энда Зрители 2 411 009 846 435 Деньги 658 629 937 руб. 224 513 762 Цена билета 273, 18 руб. 2, 06 07. 02 — 09. 02 подробнее Сегодня в кино рейтинг Лёд 2 7. 118 Удивительное путешествие доктора Дулиттла Dolittle 6. 000 Джентльмены The Gentlemen 8. 699 Калашников 7. 067 Соник в кино Sonic the Hedgehog 6. 535 афиша Скоро в кино премьера Пушки Акимбо Guns Akimbo 27. 02 Сладкая жизнь La dolce vita 05. 03 Человек-невидимка The Invisible Man 05. 03 Бладшот Bloodshot 12. 03 Тихое место 2 A Quiet Place Part II 19. 03 премьеры Последний бойскаут The Last Boy Scout, 1991 другой случайный фильм.
Watch stream film trix 2004 dvd. Watch stream film trix 2004 hindi. Watch stream film trix 2004 online free. “I felt pushed out of the UK because of the glass ceiling I could feel my head bobbing against. I could see that actors, my peers, those who had a similar trajectory to me, were going on to do movies, to play leads. I started to feel I was going to go round in circles. Nice TV, back to the theatre, nice TV… but I wasn’t going to be James McAvoy, I wasn’t going to be Benedict Cumberbatch. ” — David Oyelowo, 2015 If I had to pick one moment that encapsulates for me the haphazard nature of black British film stardom – a jigsaw narrative that lacks any clear arc and is characterised by frustration, inconsistency and occasional flashes of hope – it would be a scene from the first act of Neil Jordan ’s British-Irish thriller The Crying Game (1992), a picture I love dearly. The African-American actor Forest Whitaker, playing Jody, a British soldier of Antiguan descent from North London, is strapped to a chair, with a cloth sack over his head. Jody’s relationship with his IRA captor Fergus ( Stephen Rea) has advanced to the point where there is a tentative bond between them, so he launches into the fable of the scorpion and the frog, an allegorical riff on the inevitability of human nature in which a wary frog agrees to ferry a scorpion over a river, only for the scorpion, obeying its natural instincts, to sting the frog halfway across, thereby dooming them both. But what is his accent all about? “Woy d’ya steeng me Meesta Scorpeeyun? ” Whitaker over-enunciates from behind his hood. “For naah we bofe willl draan. ” Now, it’s not that Whitaker gives a bad performance – on the contrary, his portrayal of a hulking, tender squaddie brought low by circumstance is deeply touching – or that actors aren’t supposed to play characters from different countries. One could argue Whitaker’s casting befits a film with such a daringly fluid approach to issues of nationality, gender, race and sexuality. It’s not even that his accent is that unspeakably awful. Rather, it’s that by 1992, one would have thought that the production team might have been able to scare up an actual black Brit to take on this small but pivotal role, instead of relying on an import to deliver the goods. After all, as Stephen Bourne reports in his essential 2001 book Black in the British Frame, black Britons had been a presence in British cinema since the 1910s, 20s and 30s, when they appeared as extras and bit players – albeit often as docile, ill-defined Africans in films that glorified the Empire. Yet, decades on, no black British actor was considered suitable to authentically represent his country in a film that went on to win an Oscar. Woy d’ya steeng me?, indeed. Whitaker wasn’t unique. Four years before The Crying Game, a pre-megastardom Denzel Washington was flown in from America to play the lead – another soldier, a British Falklands veteran confronting poverty and racism after leaving the army – in Martin Stellman’s patchy thriller For Queen and Country (1988). “I wanted to use a black English actor to portray what is ostensibly a black English story and struggle, ” said Trix Worrell, the film’s writer (and future creator of hit Channel 4 sitcom Desmond’s). But money, or the promise of money at least, spoke loudest: Worrell’s pleas fell on deaf ears, and the producers went over his head, selecting an actor they felt would propel more bums toward seats. Despite this, For Queen and Country ultimately failed to secure a wide national release, and is now regarded, at best, as a cult curio of special interest to fans of dodgy London accents. Denzel Washington in For Queen and Country (1988) The casting of Washington and Whitaker in these roles hints at the historical trickiness of navigating home terrain for black British actors, who have had to contend with a depressing lack of opportunities; an erratic national film industry in thrall to Hollywood; stereotyped, repetitive roles (criminals, coppers, servants, etc); a pronounced lack of authorial diversity; and the enduring lure-cum-safety net of the small screen: fine for domestic recognition, but hardly a shortcut to global adulation, meaty roles and big-time salaries – ie, the hallmarks of a real movie star. I’ll address these issues in due course, but it seems sensible to first acknowledge that both The Crying Game and For Queen and Country exist on a long continuum that has seen black actors crossing the Atlantic in both directions. Home and away While the Bermuda-born Ernest Trimingham may have been the most recognisable silent-era black screen presence in Britain, taking key roles in western Jack, Sam and Pete (1919) and children’s fantasy Where the Rainbow Ends (1921), the nation’s first genuine black film star was another foreigner – New Jersey native Paul Robeson. Treated as an outcast in Jim Crow-era America, where roles for black actors were generally limited to coons, buffoons and quadroons, Robeson moved to Britain in the late 1920s, and remained there until the outbreak of World War II. This 6ft 3in wellspring of charisma was equally powerful as a screen and stage actor, a bass baritone singer and a political firebrand who strove tirelessly for dignity and complexity in representation. Paul Robeson in Song of Freedom (1936) Captivating audiences with his noble persona, Robeson became a major box-office draw in earthy British dramas. He played dock workers in both Song of Freedom (1936) and Big Fella (1937) – in the former, Robeson was given final-cut approval, an unprecedented option at the time for an actor of any race. He was a war hero in Jericho (aka Dark Sands, 1937), and played the wonderfully named sailor David Goliath in the stirring Rhonda-set The Proud Valley (1940), which reflected Robeson’s real-life public support for striking Welsh miners. But it wasn’t all plain sailing for Robeson in Britain. Much to his dismay, his character in Zoltan Korda’s adventure film Sanders of the River (1935), Bosambo, was transformed in the editing process from a dignified Nigerian leader to a servile lickspittle to British colonial rule. “It is the only film of mine that can be shown in Italy or Germany, ” Robeson complained in 1938, “for it shows the Negro as fascist states desire him: savage and childish. ” Following Robeson’s example, other American performers of the period also left home for the promise of a brighter future in Britain – and many found notable roles alongside Robeson. South Carolina’s Nina Mae McKinney, who starred in America’s first all-black-cast sound film Hallelujah! (1929), appeared in Sanders of the River. Manhattan-born singer-actress Elisabeth Welch appeared with Robeson in Song of Freedom and Big Fella, and also guest-starred in several British films, including Death at Broadcasting House (1934), Alibi (1942) and Dead of Night (1945). Welch was a familiar face on British television for many decades. Her last film role – a jaw-dropper – came as a gold-clad goddess in Derek Jarman’s art-punk Shakespeare riff The Tempest (1979). Her performance of Stormy Weather in Jarman’s film, delivered against a backdrop of statuesque, muscular sailors, is a clear highlight. It wasn’t until the 1950s – the decade in which my own paternal grandparents arrived in London from Jamaica as part of the Windrush generation – that black actors, settlers from the Caribbean and Africa, would make their presence felt more consistently in a spate of liberal-minded film dramas grounded in the social anxieties of a changing Britain. The Bermuda-born actor Earl Cameron made his feature debut in Basil Dearden ’s 1951 thriller Pool of London, playing merchant seaman Johnny, a misunderstood tearaway who falls for a white girl ( Susan Shaw) – the film is widely regarded as being one of the first to deal with interracial romance. The handsome, ever-composed Cameron was the closest Britain had to an authentic black film idol in the period, despite not being marketed as such. He would go on to appear in Simba (1955), as a fiercely ethical medical doctor; The Heart Within (1957), as a West Indian dock worker suspected of murder; and two films made in the aftermath of the 1958 Notting Hill race riots: Dearden ’s tense, harsh thriller Sapphire (1959) and Roy Ward Baker’s kitchen sink drama Flame in the Streets (1961). Cameron is one of the most assured, impactful performers in the latter film, playing under-pressure West Indian factory worker Gabriel Gomez, but tellingly his name was nowhere to be seen on the film’s theatrical posters. Earl Cameron in Pool of London (1951) Credit: Jack Dooley/StudioCanal Cameron’s Flame in the Streets co-star, the Senegal-born Johnny Sekka, summarised the plight of black actors in Britain in a 1969 interview with the Times: “ Sean Connery, Terry Stamp, Michael Caine, Tom Courtenay, John Hurt. I started out with these people. Today they are stars. I’m not jealous. But why the hell not me? I have the same talent and ability. ” His rhetorical thrust was clear; whether through studied ignorance or systemic racism, black actors weren’t getting a proper look-in. Sekka, like Cameron, found little major work without a studio contract, joining the likes of black Londoner Paul Danquah (A Taste of Honey, 1961) and British Guiana-born Cy Grant (Safari, 1956; Calypso, 1958) in doing solid if intermittent work on television, interspersed with even rarer film roles, which were almost always race-specific. (It should be noted here that if the situation for black male film actors in Britain was bad at the time, it was downright dreadful for black women. ) Just a few years later, the arrival in England of the glamorous Sidney Poitier further illustrated the shortfall in genuine stardom for home-based talent. In 1967, the same year as his two US box-office smash hits Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner and In the Heat of the Night, Poitier starred as a schoolteacher doing his best with a class of East London scamps in James Clavell’s drama To Sir, with Love. Sidney Poitier in To Sir, with Love (1967) In the 1970s – generally considered a parlous decade for the British film industry – Poitier continued to expand his global brand, opting to set his second directorial effort, the unusual romantic drama A Warm December (1973), in London. The film sees Earl Cameron, ten years Poitier’s senior, play a now familiar supporting role as the ambassador of a fictional African republic. (In 2016, Poitier was awarded a Bafta fellowship – the organisation’s highest honour. Meanwhile Cameron, aged 99 at the time of writing, was last seen playing Elderly Bald Man in Christopher Nolan ’s 2010 blockbuster Inception – a remarkable testament to his staying power. ) Some UK-based actors, including Johnny Sekka, tried to make it in America and achieved limited success. Yet it wasn’t until the end of the 1980s that a black British actor would come close to pulling off a reverse-Robeson/Poitier manoeuvre, and making a big impact on US soil. In 1989, Dudley’s own Lenny Henry – comfortably the biggest black comedy star on UK television, despite drawing criticism in some quarters for perpetuating racial stereotypes – appeared in his first American film, the obscure erotic thriller T he Suicide Club, as a love interest to Mariel Hemingway (“Not the truly terrible film you might expect, ” reassured the New York Times). That same year Henry also starred as an enigmatic department store employee in the Oscar-winning short Work Experience, and in his own standup comedy movie Lenny Live and Unleashed, inspired by the concert films of Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy. Shortly thereafter, Henry was headhunted by Disney honcho Jeffrey Katzenberg to play the lead in Charles Lane ’s New York-set True Identity (1991), which saw Henry play Miles Pope, a struggling American actor who, following a series of odd plot convolutions, disguises himself as a white man via elaborate prosthetics in order to hide from the Mafia. Lenny Henry in True Identity (1991) True Identity had some slyly ironic things to say about race and representation, and Henry gave an enthusiastic, likeable performance – a cuddlier Eddie Murphy, if you will – but it tanked at the box office, and displeased critics. Henry had signed a lucrative three-year contract with Walt Disney, but such was the magnitude of the film’s failure, both sides quietly agreed to forget about it. Henry later relayed his unhappy experience: “When I was out there I felt like this tiny little link in the chain… I really didn’t like not having any say. ” Henry returned home, set up his own production company, Crucial Productions, and focused on building his name in TV sitcoms. His next feature film gig was voicing Dre Head, a dreadlocked Jamaican shrunken head in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004). Knighted in 2015, Henry remains a much-loved figure in England, but genuine megawatt film stardom has, for now, eluded him. Listen to Britain Actors can only take the roles available to them, and one key reason for the historical paucity of home-grown black film stars on UK soil must lie in the shortfall in authorial diversity in British cinema, and the resultant dearth of films told from a black perspective. In the years since 1975, when Trinidad-born Horace Ové co-wrote and directed West London neorealist drama Pressure, widely regarded as the first ‘black’ feature film to be made in Britain (black director, writers, cast and milieu; theatrically screened), no black British director has completed more than four theatrically released feature films. Cassie McFarlane in Burning an Illusion (1981) It’s hardly surprising then that so few of the black actors in those rare, exotic happenings – a British film made by a black director – have parlayed their talents into high-profile careers at home. Herbert Norville gave a wonderfully engaging performance as Pressure’s rumpled youth Tony, but ultimately wound up on the TV bit-part circuit. Cassie McFarlane ’s luminous turn as a young Londoner experiencing a political awakening in Menelik Shabazz’s Burning an Illusion (1981) netted her an Evening Standard Award for Most Promising New Actress, but after a smattering of TV gigs, she was last seen in a small role in a 2006 episode of BBC drama Silent Witness. Ové’s cricket-and-culture clash comedy Playing Away (1986), one of the first films fully funded by Channel 4, then in its influential infancy, handed a preciously rare lead role to Guyanese-British TV stalwart Norman Beaton, who would soon become a household name in Desmond’s. Mo Sesay and Valentine Nonyela, the charismatic co-leads of Isaac Julien ’s colourful 70s-set thriller Young Soul Rebels (1991), racked up eight separate minor characters between them in long-running ITV police drama The Bill. Cathy Tyson and Bob Hoskins in Mona Lisa (1986) British cinema of the 80s and 90s in general offered scant room for black performers. Cathy Tyson brought soul and wit to a remote role as the “tall, thin, black tart” in Neil Jordan’s Mona Lisa (1986). The title of Karen Alexander’s perceptive 2000 essay, Black British Cinema in the 1990s: Going Going Gone, succinctly summed up the situation in that decade. Mainstream British cinema typically squeezed out the reality of black British life, or rendered it with tiresome clichés. ‘Horse’ (Paul Barber), the sole black character in The Full Monty (1997), was nicknamed after the purportedly huge size of his penis. In Notting Hill (1999), Richard Curtis and Roger Michell contrived to sell the world a bastardised version of the West London district, betraying the earthy earlier work of actors like Earl Cameron by transforming an area defined by diversity, the history of the British Black Power movement, the Mangrove restaurant, Claudia Jones and social struggle, into a starchy metropolis “wholly populated with mindless, twittering, wittering, lily-white rich”, as writer China Miéville so memorably put it. Marianne Jean-Baptiste in Secrets and Lies (1996) The most notable black British film performance of the 1990s was given by the RADA-trained Marianne Jean-Baptiste in Mike Leigh’s Palme d’Or-winning Secrets & Lies (1996). With great warmth and hypnotic stillness she played the long-lost mixed-race daughter of a white mother ( Brenda Blethyn). At just shy of 30, Jean-Baptiste became the first black British woman to be nominated for an Oscar. This should have been the springboard for a graduation to bigger roles. Instead, a year later on British Screen’s 50th anniversary, the funding body invited 50 of the UK’s top actors to the Cannes festival, but Jean-Baptiste was not among them. Incensed and heartbroken, she told the Guardian in 1997 that she hadn’t been offered any roles in a year, adding, “The old men running the industry just have not got a clue. They’ve got to come to terms with the fact that Britain is no longer a totally white place where people ride horses, wear long frocks and drink tea… It is a shame on Britain. I see myself as British and I want to be celebrated by Britain. ” Today Jean-Baptiste lives in Los Angeles, and works most regularly on US cable television. Sophie Okonedo in Hotel Rwanda (2004) One of the more successful British actresses of recent times is Sophie Okonedo, a Tony Award-winner and Oscar nominee (for 2004’s Hotel Rwanda). In a 2014 interview, she expressed her frustration with British cinema’s heritage fetish, an obsession with limiting consequences for black talent. “Costume and period drama [must be] at least 40 per cent of what we do here. Which means that 40 per cent of opportunities are closed to me already. ” Some filmmakers have challenged the genre’s inherent whiteness, leading to interesting roles for black and mixed-race actors: in Andrea Arnold ’s mud-caked adaptation of Wuthering Heights (2011), James Howson became the first actor of colour to play Emily Brontë’s Heathcliff on screen, while Amma Asante’s Belle (2013), about an 18th-century mixed-race aristocrat (played by Gugu Mbatha-Raw), was quietly radical in its investigation of racial complexity, despite its glossy exterior. Gugu Mbatha-Raw in Belle (2013) Mbatha-Raw’s career, like Okonedo’s, reflects the dominant contemporary narrative around black British stardom: occasional strong UK roles followed by exodus to America, where the balance of race-specific roles and colour-blind casting is more mixed. Post-Belle, Mbatha-Raw’s CV comprises a long list of US credits (Jupiter Ascending, 2015; Concussion, 2015; Free State of Jones, 2016). Peckham-born Nigerian Brit John Boyega, a product of the influential Identity Agency for actors of colour (founded by Femi Oguns), looks likely to follow a similar path. Boyega burst on to the scene as a 19-year-old in London-set sci-fi Attack the Block (2011), then – stunningly – he was cast in Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015), and now looks set, just maybe, to become Britain’s first genuine black Hollywood superstar. Noel Clarke in Adulthood (2008) Twenty years Boyega’s senior, Idris Elba took a longer route to prominence. Having cut a swathe as charismatic criminal Russell ‘Stringer’ Bell on HBO’s The Wire (2002-08) and become an authoritative UK TV presence on BBC’s Luther (2010-15), Elba is now a blockbuster franchise regular in films such as Star Trek Beyond (2016) and Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), if not quite an above-the-line Hollywood star – though if the Bond producers can get over the idea of a black man playing an entirely fictional character, he may one day be 007. Speaking of Bond, Naomie Harris made history by becoming the first black Moneypenny in Skyfall (2012), but is also finding more regular work in high-profile US film appearances ( Southpaw, 2015; Moonlight, 2016; Collateral Beauty, 2016). Both Noel Clarke (with Star Trek into Darkness) and Ashley Walters (Get Rich or Die Tryin’, 2005) made brief sojourns into big-budget American cinema, but are best known in UK film terms for their appearances in dramas focused on urban alienation and crime. Walters shone in 2004’s powerful Bullet Boy, while Clarke has done good business at the UK box office with his influential Kidulthood trilogy (2008-16), the second and third instalments of which he also directed. Chiwetel Ejiofor in 12 Years a Slave (2013) Two classically trained British actors of Nigerian descent have found remarkable success playing historical American characters. Chiwetel Ejiofor in fact began his film career in Hollywood, starring, at 19, as interpreter Ensign Covey in Steven Spielberg’s Amistad (1997). He has since built an impressive US-heavy CV, with occasional returns to the UK in films that display his range: a tightly wound Nigerian immigrant in Dirty Pretty Things (2002); a flamboyant drag queen in Kinky Boots (2005). Ejiofor’s career high-point to date came with his Oscar-nominated role as enslaved free black man Solomon Northup in Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave (2013). Meanwhile, David Oyelowo has amassed an extraordinary set of credits portraying black American heroes: a preacher in civil rights-era drama The Help (2011), a fighter pilot in WWII drama Red Tails (2012), a Civil War cavalryman in Lincoln (2012), a Black Panther-turned-state senator in The Butler (2013) and Martin Luther King Jr in Selma (2014). David Oyelowo as Martin Luther King in Selma (2014) It may be that Oyelowo’s record alarms American audiences in the same way that I reacted to Forest Whitaker in The Crying Game. So be it – American audiences have had Samuel L. Jackson, Will Smith, Kerry Washington, Danny Glover, Angela Bassett, Eddie Murphy, Whoopi Goldberg and Morgan Freeman – to name just a few – to cushion the blow. While Oyelowo’s success abroad is certainly something to cheer, I can’t help but feel a little rueful that American history is brought to life by British talent, while at the same time so many black British historical stories remain untold on the big screen. Perhaps the recent semi-groundswell of black British authorial talent (such as Asante, McQueen, Clarke, Debbie Tucker Green, Destiny Ekaragha, Femi Oyeniran, Mo Ali, Cecile Emeke) can make it happen. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see cinema portray pioneering black British figures? Chiwetel Ejiofor is Olaudah Equiano in The Abolition Diaries! Naomie Harris is Mary Seacole in British Hotel! Adrian Lester is Trevor McDonald in The News At Ten! David Harewood is Daley Thompson in The Decathlete! But I’m getting carried away. For now, I’ll restrict myself to a more modest hope: that if a part opens up in a major UK film for a black British soldier undergoing a spiritual crisis, it is filled by a black British actor. I don’t think I could take being stung once more by ‘Meesta Scorpeeyun’.
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