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Deleted Scenes From The Hobbit Cracked Heels



With torch in hand Bilbo begins creeping out into the darkness, making his way towards, up and into the treasure hoard itself. The Dwarves see from their remote corner the hobbit climb up and up to the top of the mound of treasure; they see him stoop to pick something up, but he is too far away and the chamber too dark for any of them to think anything of it. However, as Bilbo investigates the strange gleam he saw, he discovers the Arkenstone that the dwarves had spoken of before. Bilbo is dazzled and seduced by its beauty and decides to keep it for himself as his one-fourteenth of the share. He suspects it will cause trouble later, but for the time being he puts it in his deepest pocket.




Deleted Scenes From The Hobbit Cracked Heels



Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed. Behind him where the walls were nearest could dimly be seen coats of mail, helms and axes, swords and spears hanging; and there in rows stood great jars and vessels filled with wealth that could not be guessed.


Beorn is far more jolly in the book and his interactions with the company are rich in comedy and theatricality. It is sincerely disappointing that Peter Jackson decided to alter this chapter so much for the sake of manufacturing more action and more danger with no service to the larger plot or narrative. The nuance and fantastic detail is lost in an oversimplification of the character and were it not for the ponies granted to the dwarves, Beorn could easily be taken out of the film entirely. Scenes more true to the book were filmed and can be found in the Extended Edition deleted scenes, though Jackson structured his introduction to the second film in a way that makes it difficult to understand why they were cut.


"What a shocking calamity!" Evil penguin disguised as chicken uses remote-control pants to heist a diamond. Homemade rocket - with wallpapered interior - flies to moon of cheese policed by ... a stove. Just two wonderfully absurdist scenes from the veddy British, clay-rendered world of lumpy, cheese-loving inventor Wallace and his longsuffering dog, Gromit. Three half-hour shorts that predate this year's acclaimed "Were-Rabbit" feature film come with 10 fun micro-shorts (including "Snowmanotron" and the brilliant "The Autochef") and the kind of behind-the-magic explainer that we've come expect with such labor-intensive movies. Delightful.


After racking up a daunting body count in both France ("Taken") and Turkey ("Taken 2"), the destructive Mills family (who really should consider going into the witness protection program, not only for their own safety, but for ours) turn their sights on the sunny freeways of their home town, Los Angeles, in "Taken 3". Starting with the unimaginative (and, as it happens, incorrect) title, "Taken 3," directed by Oliver Megaton, is both lazy and tremendously overwrought. Anchored, as always, by a sincere performance by Liam Neeson, as well as the additional gravitas provided by Forest Whitaker as the police officer tracking Neeson down, the film pulses with indifference. "Taken" and "Taken 2" were preposterous, but entertaining: care had been given to the plot as well as the filming so that they worked as thrillers. Many didn't care for the sequel, but I liked it a lot, especially the cinematic use of the architecture in Istanbul, which showed a real understanding for how action happening in a very specific landscape can be exciting and suspenseful. "Taken 3" doesn't want to take the time to set things up carefully or clearly, so that while you can perceive that you are on the highway out to Malibu, or careening along the 405, the film doesn't use the specific landscape or architecture to help tell its story. It's just a frantic, flash-cutting frenzy. Even the slower, more intimate family scenes feature so many swooping-up-from-below shots and so many sudden inserts that moments (emotional or physical) are never given a chance to land.


Considered to be one of the best westerns of the 1950s, "3:10 to Yuma" has gained in stature since its original release as audiences have recognized the progressive insight the film provides into the psychology of its two main characters that becomes vividly exposed during scenes of heightened tension. Frankie Laine sang the film's popular theme song, also titled "3:10 to Yuma." Often compared favorably with "High Noon," this innovative western from director Delmer Daves starred Glenn Ford and Van Heflin in roles cast against type and was based on a short story by Elmore Leonard.


This faithful adaptation of Erich Maria Remarque's classic pacifist novel is among the greatest antiwar films ever made, remaining powerful more than 80 years later, thanks to Lewis Milestone's inventive direction. Told from the perspective of a sensitive young German soldier (Lew Ayres) during WWI, recruited by a hawkish professor advocating "glory for the fatherland." The young soldier comes under the protective wing of an old veteran (Louis Wolheim) who teaches him how to survive the horrors of war. The film is emotionally draining, and so realistic that it will be forever etched in the mind of any viewer. Milestone's direction is frequently inspired, most notably during the battle scenes. In one such scene, the camera serves as a kind of machine gun, shooting down the oncoming troops as it glides along the trenches. Universal spared no expense during production, converting more than 20 acres of a large California ranch into battlefields occupied by more than 2,000 ex-servicemen extras. After its initial release, some foreign countries refused to run the film. Poland banned it for being pro-German, while the Nazis labeled it anti-German. Joseph Goebbels, later propaganda minister, publicly denounced the film. It received an Academy Award as Best Picture and Milestone was honored as Best Director.Expanded essay by Garry Wills (PDF, 713KB)Lobby card


In this Howard Hawks-directed screwball comedy, showgirl and gangster's moll Sugarpuss O'Shea (Barbara Stanwyck) hides from the law among a group of scholars compiling an encyclopedia. Cooling her heels until the heat lets up, Sugarpuss charms the elderly academics and bewitches the young professor in charge (Gary Cooper). Hawks deftly shapes an effervescent, innuendo-packed Billy Wilder-Charles Brackett script into a swing-era version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs or "squirrely cherubs," as Sugarpuss christens them. Filled with colorful period slang and boogie-woogie tunes and highlighted by an energetic performance from legendary drummer Gene Krupa, the film captures a pre-World War II lightheartedness.


"Battle of the Century" is a classic Laurel and Hardy silent short comedy (2 reels, ca. 20 minutes) unseen in its entirety since its original release. The comic bits include a renowned pie-fighting sequence where the principle of "reciprocal destruction" escalates to epic proportions. "Battle" offers a stark illustration of the detective work (and luck) required to locate and preserve films from the silent era. Only excerpts from reel two of the film had survived for many years. Critic Leonard Maltin discovered a mostly complete nitrate copy of reel one at the Museum of Modern Art in the 1970s. Then in 2015, film collector and silent film accompanist Jon Mirsalis located a complete version of reel two as part of a film collection he purchased from the Estate of Gordon Berkow. The film still lacks brief scenes from reel one, but the film is now almost complete, comprising elements from MoMA, the Library of Congress, UCLA and other sources. It was restored by the UCLA Film and Television Archive in conjunction with Jeff Joseph/SabuCat. The nearly complete film was preserved from one reel of 35mm nitrate print, one reel of a 35mm acetate dupe negative and a 16mm acetate print. Laboratory Services: The Stanford Theatre Film Laboratory, Deluxe Entertainment Services Group, Cineaste Restoration/Thad Komorowksi, Point 360/Joe Alloy. Special Thanks: Jon Mirsalis, Paramount Pictures Archives, Richard W. Bann, Ray Faiola, David Gerstein.


John Huston's documentary about the WW II Battle of San Pietro Infine was considered too controversial by the U.S. military to be seen in its original form, and was cut from five reels to its released 33 minute-length. powerful viewing, vivid and gritty. Some 1,100 men died in the battle. scenes of grateful Italian peasants serve as a fascinating ethnographic time capsule. Filmed by Jules Buck. Unlike many other military documentaries, Huston's cameramen filmed alongside the Army's 143rd regiment, 36th division infantrymen, placing themselves within feet of mortar and shell fire. The film is unflinching in its realism and was held up from being shown to the public by the United States Army. Huston quickly became unpopular with the Army, not only for the film but also for his response to the accusation that the film was anti-war. Huston responded that if he ever made a pro-war film, he should be shot. Because it showed dead GIs wrapped in mattress covers, some officers tried to prevent troopers in training from seeing it, for fear of morale. General George Marshall came to the film's defense, stating that because of the film's gritty realism, it would make a good training film. The depiction of death would inspire them to take their training seriously. Subsequently the film was used for that purpose. Huston was no longer considered a pariah; he was decorated and made an honorary major.Expanded essay by Ed Carter (PDF, 423KB)View this film at National Film Preservation Foundation External


Howard Hawks directed this Raymond Chandler story featuring private eye Philip Marlowe, played by Humphrey Bogart. Appearing opposite him in only her second film was a former model named Lauren Bacall, with whom Bogart had fallen in love (and vice versa) during filming of "To Have and Have Not" earlier that year. Hawks and his writers attempted to untangle the threads of Chandler's complicated plot which caused frequent production delays. More than a month behind schedule and about $50,000 over budget, the film was ready in mid-summer1945, and that version was distributed to servicemen overseas. Shortly thereafter "To Have and Have Not" was released, and audiences loved the Bogart-Bacall chemistry, so the wide release of "The Big Sleep" was further delayed the wide release by rewriting scenes to heighten the chemistry and bring out Bacall's "insolent" quality that audiences found so appealing the pair's earlier film. The pre-release cut is only two minutes longer, but contains 18 minutes of scenes missing from the final picture. The first "draft" was discovered at the UCLA Film and Television Archive where both versions have since been preserved. 350c69d7ab


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