We were bummed to miss last week's press screening of The Fall, former music video artist Tarsem Singh's long-delayed followup to The Cell (which plays these days mostly as a punchline, but we remember rather liking it). The trailer looks gorgeous, but early word is decidedly mixed (check out Marc Savlov's very positive review in print tomorrow or online right this very second). We're reserving judgment till we see it in the theatre – which we just might do on Monday, June 2, seeing as how Tarsem will be holding court (or at least a Q&A) at the 7pm show at the Arbor Theatre (9828 Great Hills Trail). Tickets are the usual cost ($8.75 for adults, $7.50 for students, and $6.50 for children/seniors) and can be purchased in advance either at the Arbor box office or online at fandango.com.

Survivor comes to Austin in June in search of cast members for the next season of the popular adventure/competition this Friday, June 13, 1-5pm at the Backwoods in the Hill Country Galleria (12921 Hill Country Galleria Blvd.).
To see full eligibility criteria and to download an official Survivor application, go to KEYE TV's website here.

We received last-minute word from aGLIFF about an Opening Night Party at Oilcan Harry's for tonight's local premiere of gay-circuit film A Four Letter Word at the Dobie. Sadly, the notice did not include a time (we guess "after"), but it did mention "drink specials." The Casper Andreas (Slutty Summer) romp stars Jesse Archer (whom you may recognize from such films as Slutty Summer) and Here! TV's Charlie David (Dante's Cove).

Yes, film studios are popping up everywhere. I just got word of another one quietly being built in the Austin area (details when I can pry them loose). And now a report from the San Antonio Business Journal has Villa Muse looking instead to the land of enchiladas and heavy metal for its proposed mega-studio and theme park (well, sorta) after being jilted by the city of Austin. Meanwhile, Cynthia Neely, president of Women in Film & Television-Houston, confirmed to me today that a very serious effort is brewing to turn the once-regal Astrodome into a film studio. Am I the only one with images of Bud Cort flying across the field as Brewster McCloud swirling in my head? Surely something there needs to be named in honor of Robert Altman. The basement, maybe?

Incentives? Louisiana's got your incentives hanging. Lieutenant Governor Mitch Landrieu spoke with The Austin Chronicle at a roundtable held during the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival last month, to present first-hand accounts of the how the state's cultural economy initiatives work.

The media event featured cultural icons like queen of soul Irma Thomas and restaurant maverick Chef John Besh, as well as art curator Dan Cameron, artist Rhea Gary, and musicians John Boutte, Rockin' Dopsie, and fiddle prodigy and Disney teen talent Amanda Shaw, all sharing stories of culture's role in Louisiana's post-Katrina/Rita recovery.

The Lt. Guv's Louisiana Department of Culture, Recreation, and Tourism office handles the state's growing film industry; here he explains their strategy to lure crews and projects (while throwing in some savvy SXSW winks and nudges, to boot).


Texas…? Hello…? Bueller?

Continuing an informal series in odes to local video stores, count this one as a shoutout to Vulcan Video. But we’ll get to that. First: I should have been British. I hold this truth to be as self-evident as the restorative powers of a half-pint of Tamale House hot sauce. Granted, I tried living in England once, a brief summer blip interning for what would eventually be known as the house that built Harry Potter (the movie), Heyman Films, and what I took away from those few months, aside from the added pub weight, was the realization that I, like Jo from Little Women, am not fashionable enough for London. And yet, I stand resolved: There’s a tavern in some sleepy burg, where everyone is plumpish and bad-toothed, and in that tavern there is a pint, forever full and frothy, with my name on it. How do I know this? Let me count the ways. It started with an early, unhealthy obsession with the British royalty and their yen for dismantling a head from a body. Eventually, I maturated to a love affair with Brit film – especially Winterbottom – and all things BBC. The comedies – like the original, impossibly squirming Office (as much as I love Pam and Jim, until their affair plays out to Yaz, they’ll never hold a candle) and Spaced, which finally gets a DVD release in July (watch this space) – and the dramas: glorious corseted stuff by way of Austen and Trollope. And then the mysteries. I’ll run screaming from any hint of real horror (case in point: I quivered through a mere half-hour of next week’s release The Strangers before I bolted for the exit), but give me a fuddy-wuddy Marple Mystery or cool-cat Inspector Lynley and I’m a happy camper.

While we are of the opinion that Molly Ringwald peaked early with Facts of Life and never did much of anything after to impress us, we are a big fan of bad prom dresses and cancer research, and thus we heartily recommend you to GrapeVine Market's Pretty in Pink 80's Prom this Saturday. The evening includes a silent auction, dancing, and an outdoor screening of the classic John Hughes film. Pretty in Pink is just one of many in a list of essential girl movies that we never got the appeal of (see also: Sixteen Candles, Grease, Labyrinth); frankly, we were bored to tears by professional whinester Molly Ringwald and the yawning, super-posh Andrew McCarthy. (We much prefer his existential-lite wounded writer in St. Elmo's Fire, the love theme to which forever sets off a Pavlovian lifting of our spirits. "Man in Motion" is pretty terrific, too.) That said: Jon Cryer's Pretty in Pink record-store rock-out to "Try a Little Tenderness" is one for the ages. GrapeVine's 80's Prom also includes a crowning of Prom King and Queen, so here's your chance to rewrite history. Unless you already won in high school, in which case, we suggest you stop hogging all the glory. Some of us were late bloomers, you know. The Pretty in Pink 80's Prom takes place 7-11pm, Saturday, May 24, at GrapeVine Market. Tickets are $10 per person in advance and $15 dollars at the door. All proceeds benefit Susan G. Komen for the Cure Austin. Go here for more info.

Casting is now under way for a new Logo reality show, Drag Race, hosted by none other than the queen of fabulous, RuPaul. Press materials call for “talented and gorgeous drag queens and their best friend/stylist/drag slave from across the nation to compete in the ultimate first ever televised reality drag competition.” As a confirmed reality show hater, even I have to admit that I would tune into this show once it hits the small screen. The competition is open to any drag queen 21 years of age or older. Details on how to apply can be found at http://dragrace.popularproductions.net/.

It's good to know that less than 24 hours after all hell broke loose, weather-wise, Austin's weirdness remains at an all time high, cinematically, at least. Seriously: Last night we watched a clearly messed-with and un-nice Mother Nature uproot a three-story oak not 15 feet from our living room window while hail the size and density of Idaho very nearly punched holes clean through our ceiling. And tonight? Tonight we get to watch a hickoid necrophile with a serious case of the Oedipals deconstruct femininity and the mother-son relationship in an entirely non-theoretical fashion. Not literally, of course, although we're pretty sure that could be arranged via a quick trip to either Elysium or Bastrop. Nah, we're talking about the Alamo Ritz's Terror Thursday screening of Jeff Gillen and Alan Ormsby's 1974 Ed Gein-inspired psychobilly freakout Deranged. Ormsby owns a special place in our heart. He scripted Bob "A Christmas Story" Clark's 1972 zombies-versus-pretentious-hippies-in-vertically-striped-flares epic, Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things, which was the first drive-in movie we ever saw in an actual drive-in, back when speaker posts (and flares) were all the rage. We were all of ten years old when some seriously misguided and/or sadistic relatives took us the re-release and thereby insured our future in horror film geekery. Needless to say, we've dug hell out of zombies and flares ever since (funny how they both keep coming back, isn't it?), although at the time we're pretty sure we ended up cowering in the back seat, shrieking like a ten year old. Go figure.