Word: slo
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...climax of their interaction is too dramatic for its own good: Farhad’s bewildering decision to kill Daniel is foiled when Daniel’s pre-school-aged daughter literally takes the bullet for her father, complete with a slo-mo Platoon-style wail of anguish on Peña’s part...
...more going for it than notoriety. Except for the framing device, there is hardly any dialogue. Chambers' mass seduction scene, 10 mins. or so, is accompanied only by the sounds of heavy breathing, moans and the occasional audible wince. One of the film's money shots is given a slo-mo instant replay of the kind Jackie Chan later used for his best stunts; then the same shot in super slo-mo, then in Pablo Ferro-style psychedelic greens and pinks. The last two minutes are extraordinary for a porn film: one extended closeup...
...year-old daughter of camel and sheep herders, didn't so much run into the historic stadium as microshuffle in, with a gait so unhurried that the thousands of cheering spectators could be forgiven for thinking the world had paused or, at the very least, shifted into super slo-mo. "The sound of all the clapping from the fans pushed me forward, and I felt like I was running very fast," says Otgonbayar, who ended her race with a time of 3:48:42, half an hour behind the second-slowest competitor. "Even if I finished last...
Film lovers will luxuriate in the extraordinary imagery: a sword point that slo-mo slices through drops of water; soldiers squatting in a circle, caked in clay; lovers curled into each other, sleeping under red silk; a sword fight in a grove of golden leaves that turn red, plum, magenta and fall like fat confetti. In the film's design, color creates context. Each story Nameless tells is draped in a different hue: gray, red, blue, white, green. (In the fifth episode, a lake shimmers like lime Jell-O.) At the end, reality forces a new color on Nameless: black...
...that "The Anglo-Saxon race is the only one that fully appreciates the moral influence of physical culture," we all might have been spared synchronized swimming. Instead we might be cheering as the world's finest athletes hurl themselves downhill in pursuit of a piece of cheese or watching slo-mo replays of bloodied shin kickers or muddied bog snorkelers going for the gold. For, as J.R. Daeschner relates in his obsessive, down-and-dirty travelogue, True Brits (Arrow Books; 340 pages), they're the kind of thing that passed for "physical culture" among the Anglo-Saxons of yore...