Last weekend, I watched a youth basketball game where three different parents were frantically trying to record their kids while simultaneously cheering from the sidelines. One dad missed his son’s game-winning shot because he was fumbling with his phone’s zoom. Another mom’s footage was so shaky it looked like an earthquake documentary. Sound familiar?
This scene plays out across amateur sports fields every weekend, but artificial intelligence is fundamentally transforming how we capture these precious moments. The days of choosing between being present and getting the shot are rapidly becoming history.
The Traditional Sports Recording Struggle
Amateur sports recording has always been a compromise. Parents, coaches, and players faced an impossible choice: either designate someone to miss the live action while operating a camera, or accept that great moments would go uncaptured. Even when someone volunteered to film, the results were often disappointing—shaky footage, missed plays, and poor angles that failed to showcase the athletic achievements happening on the field.
Professional sports broadcasts spoiled us with their smooth tracking shots and perfect framing, but that level of production seemed forever out of reach for amateur athletics. Until now.
Enter AI-Powered Sports Cameras
The revolution began when computer vision technology became sophisticated enough to understand sports action in real-time. Modern AI cameras can identify players, predict movement patterns, and automatically frame shots with the precision of a professional cameraman. The XbotGo Chameleon AI camera system exemplifies this breakthrough, transforming ordinary smartphones into intelligent filming equipment.
These systems use advanced algorithms to track movement across the field, eliminating the need for human operators. The camera makes split-second decisions about when to zoom, pan, and focus—often faster and more accurately than human reflexes allow.
Game-Changing Features Reshaping Sports RecordingAutonomous Player Tracking
The most impressive capability is jersey number recognition. Coaches can lock the camera onto specific players, following their every move throughout the game. This technology proves invaluable for player development, allowing detailed analysis of positioning, technique, and decision-making patterns.
Gesture-Activated Control
Some AI systems respond to simple hand gestures, enabling athletes to control recording during solo training sessions. A quick wave starts filming, letting players focus entirely on their performance while ensuring every moment gets captured.
Professional-Quality Output
These systems deliver 4K resolution with smooth tracking that rivals professional broadcasts. The difference in quality compared to handheld recordings is immediately apparent—steady shots, proper framing, and consistent focus that makes amateur games look television-ready.
Impact Across Different Sports CommunitiesYouth Sports Parents
Parents can finally watch their children play instead of viewing the game through a small screen. The emotional connection of being present while still capturing memories represents a significant quality-of-life improvement for sports families.
Coaches and Training Programs
AI recording enables detailed game analysis that was previously exclusive to professional teams. Coaches can review positioning, study opponent strategies, and provide players with visual feedback that accelerates skill development.
Content Creators
Athletes building social media presence benefit enormously from consistent, high-quality footage. Instead of relying on friends to film training sessions, they can create professional-looking content independently.
The Technical Evolution
The sophistication of sports AI continues advancing rapidly. Current systems can differentiate between sports, adjusting tracking algorithms for basketball’s vertical movement versus soccer’s wide-field action. Some cameras integrate real-time scoreboard information, creating broadcast-style graphics automatically.
Cloud integration means footage syncs immediately to secure storage, accessible from any device. This eliminates the frustration of lost recordings due to device failures or forgotten memory cards.
Looking Forward
As AI technology becomes more accessible and affordable, we’re approaching a future where every amateur game could have professional-quality documentation. The barriers between recreational and elite sports recording continue dissolving.
The implications extend beyond simple recording. AI-generated statistics, automated highlight reels, and intelligent editing will soon be standard features. Young athletes will grow up with access to analytical tools that current professionals could only dream of a decade ago.
The transformation is already underway. Weekend warriors and youth leagues are discovering that artificial intelligence doesn’t just change how they record sports—it changes how they experience and improve at them. The future of amateur sports recording isn’t just smarter; it’s fundamentally more human, returning focus to what matters most: the game itself.
Moana claims the crown with an impressive 90.29 popularity score, proving that newer Disney characters can absolutely compete with decades-old classics. Her 1 million monthly searches and massive 3.4 billion YouTube views show she’s resonating powerfully with both millennials who saw the film as adults and Gen Alpha kids discovering her story. The character’s empowering message and catchy soundtrack have made her a social media favorite, generating viral TikTok dances and covers of “How Far I’ll Go.”
2. Snow White (83.84)
Despite being Disney’s first princess from 1937, Snow White secures second place with 83.84 points. Her 1.22 million monthly searches – the highest search volume in the top 10 – proves that nostalgia is incredibly powerful online. Recent buzz around the upcoming live-action remake has undoubtedly boosted her digital presence, reminding audiences why she started the Disney princess phenomenon.
3. Elsa (79.73)
Elsa rounds out the top three with 79.73 points, riding the wave of Frozen’s cultural dominance. Her 3.9 billion YouTube views – the highest in the rankings – reflect the viral nature of “Let It Go” and countless fan covers, parodies, and reaction videos. While her search volume is lower than others, Elsa’s YouTube dominance shows how one iconic song can create lasting digital impact.
4. Mickey Mouse (77.45)
The OG Disney character Mickey Mouse holds strong at fourth place with 77.45 points. His 27.6 million social mentions – by far the highest in the study – demonstrate his status as Disney’s ultimate brand ambassador. From memes to merchandise posts, Mickey’s ears appear everywhere on social media – proving that some icons never go out of style.
5. Stitch (73.88)
Stitch rounds out the top five with 73.88 points, powered by an astronomical 76.1 million social mentions. The blue alien has become a Gen Z and millennial favorite, appearing in countless memes, aesthetic posts, and TikTok videos. His rebellious personality and cute-but-chaotic energy perfectly match social media culture, which makes him incredibly shareable content.
As chainsaws annihilate trees and animal chatter in the opening of Savages, Claude Barras makes clear the target of his new feature film’s title: the drivers of deforestation in the name of “civilisation”, as the title treatment drops over a plantation. While plantation worker Mutang’s additional muttering of “savages” in response to the plantation’s armed guards shooting an orangutan in cold blood feels heavy-handed, it doesn’t take away from the power of the film’s stop-motion craft. Mutang and his young daughter Keria adopt the surviving baby ape, a casualty and representative of the casual barbarity of deforestation.
The film is set in Borneo, told from the perspective of Keria, who lives with Mutang on the edge of the city, in a village between the urban spires and the dense rainforest in which Keria’s extended family live. Her family is part of the Penan people – nomadic hunter-gatherers who are one of the hundreds of indigenous groups on the island – and Barras follows Keria as she embraces that part of her family and heritage. It’s a hard-won journey – Keria is skeptical of that tradition and downright horrible to her younger cousin Selaï when he comes to stay with them, even joining in with her friend’s racist taunts. The eventual healing of their familial relationship as it blossoms is the film’s strongest hook, and Barras and screenwriter Catherine Paillé tie this together with Keria learning the connection between her family’s freedom and environmental destruction, as the government attempt to drive them off their land, annihilate their hunting spots and tie them up in bureaucracy. As Keria unlearns her selfishness and materialism, we see it manifest in the companies laying claim to land that doesn’t belong to them. “The world does not belong to us… we borrow it from our children,” as an opening epigraph says, but capitalism isn’t built for the future.
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The writers may be obvious in their allegory in places, but that doesn’t mean they don’t trust their young audience with harsher material, and not just in the bursts of violence. Savages talks frankly about “hope dying slowly” in the forest as the Penan fight the encroaching government off their land but expect the worst anyway. Between the cute gags, there’s also an interest in observation: not in an anthropological sense towards the Penan, but in a contentedness with noticing the patterns of the natural world.
The handmade qualities of this world amplify the sense of devastation. The characters, whose designs resemble Barras’s work on My Life as a Courgette, each have distinct personality in their design as well as a visible human touch on their surface which creates a level of immersion. Adding to this is the dense foliage of Savages’ tactile forest sets, as well as its interest in animated natural life, the sounds of which are often prioritised over a musical score. It makes the barrenness of quarries and logging sites feel downright apocalyptic: the notes for the film highlight the Penan concept of Tana Pengurip – the living forest – not just as the home and livelihood of the Penan, but as the carrier of their stories.
Barras builds the film not just so that annihilation feels tangible, but also so that sense of history and spirituality can be felt as well as told: the natural lighting of the daylight hours gives way to an ethereal glow in the forest at night as Keria encounters a panther that might also carry her mother’s spirit. The fantastical, meticulous nature of Barras’ animation illustrates by contrast the scourge of AI: lifeless, eerily smooth digital simulacrum which is actually hastening environmental destruction rather than encouraging its protection.
Perhaps the most fantastical moment is saved for last, as Savages sees capitalist and governmental power acquiescing to the will of the people, particularly to the passion and ingenuity of youth. But it’s also fitting: why preach cynicism and the belief that stepping outside doesn’t work to younger audiences? It’s hard to fault Barras for making a film which is open-eyed about the destruction of the natural world, but also quietly insistent that it – and we – can be saved.
A good comedy must be funny; this shouldn’t be a debatable statement, and yet it would seem that as of late, too many studio efforts in the genre are making an effortful case for the contrary. Consider the earners of recent vintage: even in determinedly labeled comedies, humor is the pleasant diversion that greases the proceedings while we behold the CGI-laden stunts of Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart, gape at the immaculate visages of Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney, or ponder the confining roles of womanhood with our pal Barbie. The platonic ideal of a comedy as a machine that extracts laughter — and that the best comedy would necessarily be the one that operates at maximum capacity along these lines on a minute-to-minute basis — is not pursued nearly as doggedly as it should be.
Luckily, for Earth and its people and everyone who will live in the future, Detective Frank Drebin Jr. stops for nothing when he’s in hot pursuit. Not pedestrians. Not unfortunately placed beehives or clutches of helium balloons. Nothing.
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In keeping with the tradition of the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker brain trust’s original cop-on-the-edge spoofs, the rebooted Naked Gun condenses a staggering volume of jokes into a svelte sub-hour-and-a-half length, to the point that the question of whether any one gag works on you becomes immaterial. In about five seconds, there will be more daffy wordplay, more pratfalls, more left-field pop-culture references proudly long past their expiry date. The by-any-means-necessary bit barrage crams sight gags into the corners of frames, the credits, the infinitesimal space within edits. In a film that nobly aspires to everything being funny at all times, anything can be, the chief benefit of director Akiva Schaffer’s attention to and appreciation for the elements of cinematic form. You’ve got to be smart to be this stupid.
The virtuosic schtick construction meets a worthy match in the leads, two exemplary instances of unexpected yet inspired casting that play on the actors’ preexisting screen personae just as the original tapped hard-nosed Leslie Nielsen for deadpan self-parody. As Drebin the Younger, Liam Neeson is god’s perfect boob, fully locked into the sweet spot between unearned confidence and bone-deep idiocy where comedy flourishes. (As is essential for any performer trafficking in levity, he jumps at the chance to make himself look like a fool, not least in the profoundly satisfying line of dialogue that lays out the gerontocratic subtext of the rampaging-oldster pictures on which he built his career’s second act.) And as his femme fatale/right-hand gal Beth – known also by her undercover moniker, Ms. Spaghetti – a resurgent Pamela Anderson reveals unforeseen reserves of brilliant comic acumen, the depth of her commitment undeniable in an exquisitely silly musical interlude or a minute-long tangent involving dark magic, a snowman, and a samurai sword that gives this film its successor to Popstar’s immortal “offscreen bees” flight of absurd fancy.
When the opening minutes introduce a doohickey labeled “P.L.O.T. Device,” it’s an announcement that the actual case at hand is little more than occasion for bountiful setups and punch lines, though the timely edge is hard to miss in a tech-visionary villain (Danny Huston) pushing shoddy electric vehicles. But like many of the Elon Musk stand-ins peopling Hollywood productions in the years since Iron Man, any overtures to satirical critique fall flat due to the difficulty of replicating Musk’s weird combination of awkwardness, spitefulness, and neediness. Ultimately, Huston’s nefarious Richard Cane is just another megalomaniacal billionaire; in spite of this, it’s still pretty refreshing to see him punched in the gut.
Perhaps this one aspect sticks out because the rest of the film is so markedly not yoked to its moment, at once unfashionable and eternal in its evocation of a century of madcap Jewish yuks, from the Borscht Belt to MAD Magazine to Mel Brooks. The imperative is simple, unchanging, and absolute: make ‘em laugh, make ‘em laugh, make ‘em laugh. The Naked Gun is a volume business, and it succeeds by seriously heeding the sentiment presented sarcastically when applied to Drebin and his greying-badass ilk. Sometimes, the old ways really are best; a good pun is forever.
Stanley Kubrick is widely regarded as one of the most important directors in film history. From his earliest documentary shorts to major works like 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and The Shining (1980), Kubrick continually redefined cinematic form and storytelling, consistently pushing the boundaries of the medium. Often reclusive, fiercely private, and demanding to the point of obsession, he is a figure surrounded by both myth and meticulous reality. His work was rarely hurried, his methods often controversial, but the results—nearly always extraordinary—cemented his legacy in world cinema.
Throughout his career, Kubrick directed thirteen feature films, many of which are now regarded as masterpieces. He earned thirteen Academy Award nominations, winning once for Best Visual Effects for 2001: A Space Odyssey. His films, including Dr. Strangelove (1964), A Clockwork Orange (1971), Barry Lyndon (1975), and Full Metal Jacket (1987), were all nominated for Best Picture or Best Director. Credited with pioneering new techniques in cinematography and special effects, and with his meticulous attention to detail, Kubrick has influenced generations of filmmakers.
Cinema Scholars shines the Spotlight on the life and career of Stanley Kubrick. This two part article traces his development from a Bronx-born photographer to one of the greatest film directors the world has ever known.
Stanley Kubrick on the set of “Dr. Strangelove” in 1963. Photo courtesy of Columbia Pictures, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Beginnings
Stanley Kubrick was born on July 26, 1928, in the Bronx, New York City, to Jacques and Gertrude Kubrick. His father, a homeopathic physician, fostered in young Stanley an early love of literature and chess, both of which would later play key roles in his films. A mediocre student by all academic accounts, Kubrick’s intelligence was never in doubt. His passions lay elsewhere: jazz music, photography, and the emerging art of cinema.
Chess became a lifelong fascination for Kubrick. He spent countless hours playing in city parks as a teenager, developing a strategic mindset that would come to define his methodical approach to filmmaking. The game taught him patience, foresight, and the ability to anticipate and control outcomes. These qualities are evident in the construction of his films. He would often play chess with cast and crew on set, sometimes using it as a subtle means of asserting authority or delaying production until he reached a desired outcome.
Kubrick attended William Howard Taft High School, joining the school’s photography club. Graduating in 1945, his grades were insufficient for college entrance. But formal education was never to be the primary catalyst of his intellectual and artistic development. Kubrick’s schooling occurred in the libraries of New York, in the darkrooms of Look magazine, and in the theaters of Manhattan’s film houses. Kubrick would state in a 1966 interview with Jeremy Bernstein:
“As a child, I was a school misfit, and considered reading a book ‘school work’. I don’t think I read a book for pleasure until I graduated high school. I had one thing that I think perhaps helped me get over being a school misfit, and that is that I became a student of photography”
Stanley Kubrick was a Look magazine photographer when he caught himself in the mirror of Rosemary Williams, a showgirl, in 1949. Photo courtesy of Stanley Kubrick, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Photography
At age thirteen, Kubrick was given a Graflex camera by his father. The result was igniting a lifelong obsession with imagery and visual structure that would shape and define the director’s career. His early photographs showed a keen eye for composition, mood, and human behavior. In 1946, at the age of sixteen, Kubrick sold a photo to Look magazine—an evocative image of a newsvendor reacting to the death of President Franklin D. Roosevelt.
Kubrick was soon hired as an apprentice photographer by the magazine, where he worked until 1950. During his tenure, he took thousands of images, many of which were portraits and candid shots of post-war American life. The experience honed his instincts for visual storytelling and taught him how to manipulate lighting and frame shots. These skills would later translate seamlessly into his forays into mainstream filmmaking.
Kubrick has often cited his time at the magazine as a formative experience where he learned to think cinematically even while working with still images. His photo essays were structured with the rhythm and arc of a short film. Each sequence tells a story, reveals a character, and illustrates a conflict. His early assignments with Frank Sinatra, Leonard Bernstein, Erroll Garner, and Betsy von Furstenburg solidified the director’s early career.
Short Films and the 1950s
In 1951, Kubrick financed his first short documentary film, Day of the Fight. A 16-minute portrait of middleweight boxer Walter Cartier, it was shot on a shoestring budget of $3,900. It was eventually sold to RKO Pictures for modest distribution. A minor commercial success, this gave the young Kubrick the signal that he could handle the moving image with the same precision he had mastered in photography.
A still from Stanley Kubrick’s first short film “Day of the Fight” (1951), which featured Irish-American middleweight boxer Walter Cartier. Photo courtesy of RKO Pictures.
He followed this with Flying Padre (1951), another short documentary that focused on a Catholic priest who flew a small plane to various rural parishes in New Mexico to deliver sermons. Like Day of the Fight, this second short film was distributed by RKO and further proved Kubrick’s aptitude for handling complex logistical challenges and framing strong visual sequences.
Kubrick’s final short film of the period, The Seafarers (1953), was commissioned by the Seafarers International Union. Though lacking the intensity of his earlier work, it showcased his growing confidence with camera movement and scene transitions. This was notably the director’s first use of the dolly shot. A technique he would later refine in his feature films. These shorts, while minor in scale, were major stepping stones in Kubrick’s evolution as a filmmaker.
During this time, Kubrick married his high school sweetheart, Toba Metz. The couple lived just north of Greenwich Village, New York City, on 16th Street, a bohemian enclave in lower Manhattan. Their time together coincided with Kubrick’s early struggles and experimentation as a filmmaker. The marriage was short-lived and ended in divorce in 1955. However, it marked a period of creative transition as Kubrick moved from still photography to motion pictures.
Early Feature Films
Kubrick’s first full-length feature, Fear and Desire (1953), was an experimental war film he disavowed later in life. With an allegorical narrative and a minuscule budget, the film was visually inventive but dramatically stilted. Nonetheless, it drew attention from critics and producers who saw potential in Kubrick’s command of the medium. The New York Times would say of the director’s work on the film:
“Stanley Kubrick, a 24-year-old producer-director-photographer, and his equally young and unheralded scenarist and cast have succeeded in turning out a moody, often visually powerful study of subdued excitement. Mr. Kubrick’s professionalism as a photographer should be obvious to an amateur”
The cast and crew of “Fear and Desire” (1953). Stanley Kubrick is second from the right in the top row. Photo likely courtesy of Virginia Leith, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Kbrick’s next two efforts, Killer’s Kiss (1955) and The Killing (1956) signaled a major leap forward. Killer’s Kiss, a noir drama set in New York’s underworld, displayed a more confident sense of place and tension. With The Killing, a heist film told in fractured chronology, Kubrick demonstrated a boldness and technical mastery that far outweighed the limited resources he had at his disposal. It was a breakthrough, both artistically and professionally.
Paths of Glory (1957) elevated Kubrick to the ranks of serious American directors. Starring Kirk Douglas, the World War I courtroom drama offered a scathing indictment of military hierarchy and injustice. For the first time on film, the director’s elaborate tracking shots, stark cinematography, and meticulous attention to detail were on full display. Douglas, who was impressed and signed Kubrick to a three-picture deal, would say in 1966 to The New York Times:
“He made the veteran actor Adolphe Menjou do the same scene 17 times. ‘That was my best reading’ Menjou announced. ‘I think we can break for lunch now.’ It was well past the usual lunch time but Kubrick said he wanted another take. Menjou went into an absolute fury…Kubrick merely listened calmly and after Menjou had spluttered to an uncomplimentary conclusion said quietly: ‘All right, let’s try the scene once more.’ With utter docility, Menjou went back to work. Stanley instinctively knew what to do,”
The 1960s
Kubrick’s international breakthrough came with Spartacus (1960), a Hollywood epic produced by and starring Kirk Douglas. Douglas hired Kubrick for a reported $150,000 fee to take over directing duties from Anthony Mann, who Douglas fired soon after production started. Although Kubrick did not have full creative control over the film, the experience gave him insight into the mechanics and pitfalls of the studio system. Dissatisfied with the lack of autonomy, Kubrick vowed never again to work without having the final cut.
With Spartacus, Kubrick was firmly entrenched as one of the top young film directors in the industry. It also marked the end of the working relationship he had with Kirk Douglas. However, a new muse would arrive in the form of Peter Sellers.
Production photo of Stanley Kubrick (left, seated) and actor Tony Curtis (right) on the set of “Spartacus” (1960). Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures Company, Inc., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Kubrick and his new wife, Christiane Harlan, and their two young daughters, Vivian and Anya, moved to Great Britain to begin production on Lolita (1962). The director and his family would make it their home for almost the next four decades. This was convenient for Kubrick, as he had long shunned the Hollywood machine as well as the publicity.
With Lolita (1962), Kubrick pushed boundaries further. The adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov’s controversial novel was a risky proposition in Cold War America. Yet Kubrick’s version walked the fine line between satire and sensuality, and it benefited from memorable performances by James Mason, Shelley Winters, and Peter Sellers. Lolita also marked a transition for Kubrick. He was merging fantasy with reality. His imagery was becoming more surreal. Author Gene Yongblood wrote for The Criterion in 1992:
“…Stylistically, it’s a transitional work, marking the turning point from a naturalistic cinema (Paths of Glory, Spartacus) to the surrealism of the later films. Reality and fantasy coexist for the first time in a Kubrick film…”
Just One More Take
By the 1960s, Stanley Kubrick was developing a reputation as a director who wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. Difficult. Extreme. Methodical. These are all words that have been used to describe Kubrick’s directing style. Kubrick’s perfectionism and need to film dozens upon dozens of takes for a single shot have become the stuff of legend. Indeed, this only increased as the director gained more creative control over his films.
Kubrick’s excessive number of takes was considered by some critics to be irrational. However, the director believed that repetition was the key to getting an actor to suppress their conscious thoughts about the dialogue and act on a purely subconscious level. Nicole Kidman and the late Shelly Duvall both have relayed the horror stories of working with Kubrick. At the same time, both have said that the result was some of the finest work of their careers. A select few actors were exempt from this. We’ll explore that in part two of this Spotlight article.
Coming in August, we’ll bring you part two of this two-part series on the legendary Stanley Kubrick. As we continue to dive into the maestro’s career, we’ll further explore his excellent work in the 1960s with such films as Dr. Strangelove and 2001: A Space Odyssey. We’ll also cover his controversial and polarizing work in the 1970s (A Clockwork Orange and Barry Lyndon) and his venture into the realm of horror (The Shining) in 1980. Finally, we’ll dissect his last two films (Full Metal Jacketand Eyes Wide Shut) as well as Kubrick’s unrealized projects.
On Truth & Movies this week, we discuss Dangerous Animals and Ballerina, we speak to activist, photographer and filmmaker Misan Harriman about Shoot The People, a documentary about his work. David speaks to Steven Leckart – the director of Stans, about the fervent fandom of Eminem, and finally, for film club we revisit a video nasty with one hell of a shark scene in Zombie Flesh Eaters.
Joining host Leila Latif are Billie Walker and David Jenkins.
Truth & Movies is the podcast from the film experts at Little White Lies, where along with selected colleagues and friends, they discuss the latest movie releases. Truth & Movies has all your film needs covered, reviewing the latest releases big and small, talking to some of the most exciting filmmakers, keeping you across important industry news, and reassessing great films from days gone by with the Truth & Movies Film Club.
To celebrate Disaronno’s 500-year anniversary*, we’ve teamed up with the iconic Italian liqueur makers to bring you an extra special cinematic treat: a two-month celebration of Italian screen style, inspired by the timeless spirit of la dolce vita.
Honouring half a millennium(!) of tradition and innovation, our ‘La Dolce Vita’ season – curated in partnership with Disaronno – kicks off in style this June with a deep dive into four of our favourite Italian films, spanning from the 1960s to today. Each one captures the essence of this age-old Italian philosophy, which is all about living well, appreciating beauty, and savouring every moment.
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On the weekend of 4 – 5 July, we’re taking over London’s historic Regent Street Cinema for two nights of movies, cocktails, and a true taste of Italy. First up on Friday 4 July, we’re bringing Paolo Sorrentino’s dazzling 2013 film, The Great Beauty, back to the big screen, starring the one and only Toni Servillo in one of his best-loved roles.
Then, join us on Saturday 5 July for Michelangelo Antonioni’s atmospheric 1960 film, La Notte, featuring the impossibly glamorous ménage à trois of Marcello Mastroianni, Jeanne Moreau and Monica Vitti. Each screening will be accompanied by an introduction from a member of the LWLies team, and an on-stage Q&A with an Italian film expert. We’ll also be serving up a delicious selection of Disaronno cocktails and Italian-themed goodies.
The legend of Disaronno can be traced back to the most famous creative period in Italian history: the Renaissance. In 1525, the artist Bernardino Luini, a student of Leonardo da Vinci, was commissioned to decorate the Sanctuary of Our Lady of the Miracles in Saronno. For the Madonna in one of his paintings, ‘The Adoration of the Magi’, he chose a local innkeeper as his model. In appreciation, she presented him with a special gift: a flask filled with a fragrant, delicate, amber-coloured liqueur.
Since those humble origins, Disaronno has grown into the world’s favourite amaretto liqueur, famed for its unique aroma and sweet character – not to mention its iconic “square cap” bottle, created in the 1970s by a master Venetian glassmaker. Today, it embodies the elegance, refined taste, and unmistakable Italian style that has been immortalized on screen time and again by Italy’s most revered filmmakers.
If you attend one of our ‘La Dolce Vita’ screenings, you’ll not only have the chance to enjoy a signature Disaronno cocktail – aptly named Dolcevita and created by mixologist Patrick Pistolesi and his team at Drink Kong Bar in Rome – but you’ll also get your hands on a limited-edition zine filled with original content and gorgeous illustrations.
Stay tuned for more information about our ‘La Dolce Vita’ screening events, and head to disaronno.com to find out more about Disaronno’s 500-year anniversary celebrations.
Joining host Leila Latif are Laura Venning and Yasmine Kandil.
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Truth & Movies is the podcast from the film experts at Little White Lies, where along with selected colleagues and friends, they discuss the latest movie releases. Truth & Movies has all your film needs covered, reviewing the latest releases big and small, talking to some of the most exciting filmmakers, keeping you across important industry news, and reassessing great films from days gone by with the Truth & Movies Film Club.
