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Shane Carruth’s Upstream Color

Shane Carruth's Upstream Color

Although the film was much anticipated, whether because it was already locked into a self-distribution plan, or because film wise, it did not meet the climatic heights expected, Upstream Color remains newsworthy on account of the filmmaker Shane Carruth and his well thought-out plans for the film.  Shane returned to Sundance Film Festival’s US Dramatic Competition nine years after his debut feature, Primer, won the Grand Jury Prize, and has also just announced Upstream Color for the 2013 Berlin Film Festival (Panorama) and New York’s prestigious New Directors/New Films. Recently covered in the LA Times, NY Times, and sneak-previewed at Arthouse Convergence. Taking advantage of the new creative distribution options available to artists, Carruth’s own company, erbp, will release Upstream Color in the US. The film will open in New York at the IFC Center on April 5, before expanding in a platform release in over 20 markets including Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Boston, Dallas, and Chicago. Digital distribution will follow in May with Cable VOD, iTunes, Amazon, YouTube, Hulu, Xbox, Sony Entertainment Network, VUDU and Netflix, and DVD/Blu-ray.

One of the most boldly original American independents of the year, Upstream Color is a hypnotic mindbender, in which a man and a woman are drawn together, entangled in the lifecycle of an ageless organism. Identity becomes an illusion as they struggle to assemble the loose fragments of wrecked lives. The film, starring Amy Seimetz, is written and directed by Carruth, who also composed the original score, is the director of photography, and co-edited the film alongside fellow Sundance Film Festival 2013 alumnus David Lowery. It was produced by Casey Gooden, Ben LeClair, and Meredith Burke.

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G. Petrarca

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower

by Dylan Thomas

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.

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