I can't tell you how sad it makes me to hear that New Yorker Films (no connection to the magazine) is closing up shop.New Yorker releases were a big part of my education, and I guess I should be grateful that I grew up a time when a distributor whose product line was entirely composed of documentaries and art movies (mostly foreign-language) could not only stay in business, but actually did well enough that they had their own theater — The New Yorker — on Manhattan's Upper West Side, where I grew up.
It was just a block or two away from my favorite Chinese restaurant, the gloriously old fashioned Chun Cha Fu (complete with its own tiny cocktail lounge); their orange beef totally ruined me for anyone else's. I vividly remember having it there after seeing Jerzy Skolimowski's The Shout at the New Yorker. Both are long gone, but not forgotten.
(Apparently I'm not the only person with swooningly fond memories of Chun Cha Fu)
This trailer is a blast — I love its effort to sell an arty, philosophical horror film (a la The Last Wave or Fragment of Fear) as a shocker in the tradition of the The Omen and The Exorcist.
And can you believe John Hurt was ever that young?
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