Die Märzausgabe 2002 der englischen VANITY FAIR mit Nat und Hayden im Gras auf dem Titelbild ist jetzt für 9,50 Euro im deutschen Zeitschriftenhandel zu haben.
''There's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.''
- Thomas Moore
Schöner Druck und insgesamt 12 Seiten Star Wars mit den bekannten Bildern, allerdings nur wenig Text.
--
Aleph
Natalie in und auf Zeitschriften (Infos, Artikel, Scans)
Wow zu den Photos aus BlackBook (siehe http://natalieportman.com/), was auch immer das für eine Publikation ist.
Der NatIQ-Faktor ist soeben rasant gestiegen. Nat, be our Indie Queen!
--
Aleph
Der NatIQ-Faktor ist soeben rasant gestiegen. Nat, be our Indie Queen!
--
Aleph
Die Black Book-Photos und Arbeiten wie diese quasi-expressionistische http://natalieportman.com/images/magazi ... n_99.shtml für eine Freundin nähren die Hoffnung, daß Natalie doch für Indie-Quatsch wie Chad Peters Projekt zu haben sein könnte.
--
Aleph
(beschwörend)
--
Aleph
(beschwörend)
http://turbolofi.dyndns.dk/ hat einen langweiligen Abend ohne Internet sinnvoll genutzt, und den Interview-Artikel aus Black Book http://turbolofi.dyndns.dk/Black%20Book ... script.htm. Danke!
The Heart of a Broken Story
From the intergalactic worlds of Star Wars to the hallowed halls of her Ivy League school, actress Natalie Portman can light up a room like a bona fide star - or vanish with barely a trace left behind.
Editors’ note: Natalie Portman met George Plimpton once before, at a dinner party in Manhattan. It’s a testament to her precocious that she so impressed an esteemed writer three times before her senior. Most of us first encountered Natalie as a steely and sweet ingénue in The Professional. And, of course, we remember the original Star Wars movies from our own early childhoods. (Natalie had not yet been born when Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back were released, but she is the very embodiment of intergalactic nobility as Senator Padmé Amidala in Star Wars II - Attack of the Clones, which comes out in May.) For this story, Natalie and George met again. Whether to bridge the generation gap, play matchmaker, or keep himself out of trouble, Plimpton brought along his assistant, Thomas Moffett - who is close to Natalie’s age - to serve as both literary foil and conversational counterpoint. A double-barreled account of their meeting ensues...
She sat cross-legged, gaminelike, in the depths of a large sofa, the two of us sitting opposite in armchairs. She was wearing worn blue jeans. Her hips are nonexistent, so that when she leaned forward or to one side or the other, the jeans stood away from her skin, and it was prudent to look up at her face. She has ears like a fawn’s, dark hair tucked behind them. She is twenty. An Ivy League junior. A movie star. I am well over three times her age, but when she came into the room, my heart jumped. I introduced her to Tom. He is also young and thin-hipped and had been in a state of anxiety thinking about her. "Oh God", he had suddenly said three or four times in the hour before her arrival.
The interview began. I didn’t really know where to start. Tom was apparently lost in thought simply looking at her.
Earlier, before she arrived, George wondered whether we should take her to the carousel in Central Park or maybe a dinner and some drinks. He pointed out that Natalie and I are about the same age and might "hit it off".
"Come on, George", I said.
"She’s terribly attractive", he said.
"I know", I said.
George helped her out of a red wool coat when she came into his apartment. She sat under a Warhol silk-screen of a liquor store bill. I looked at her feet. She was wearing not-very-stylish running shoes and white tennis socks. I decided then that I liked her. Everything else was pretty - the little bits of glitter on her jeans, the shape of her shoulders beneath the thin black sweater, the mole on her left cheek, her eyes that looked like pieces of chocolate. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
I asked about her father. He turned out to be a fertility specialist. "A fertility specialist?" I said. "So in a funny way, he probably thinks of himself as having lots of progeny."
She has an odd laugh, not at all girlish, but quite abrupt - almost a bark - and distinctively charming. She said, "Oh yes, he’ll come home from work and tell me how many women he got pregnant today."
She has a really cool voice, imperfectly polished. So does George. His is impossibly well-heeled. He said sperm several times, adding unexpected charm to the word. She laughed.
She said that her father told her funny stories about his patients trying to deliver their sperm iced in little vials and getting caught in the traffic, the sperm spilling out when the taxi suddenly accelerated (a very New York story, it occurred to me as she was telling it), and that at school she would tell the stories to her classmates - this is in the second grade! - and the teachers would call to complain to her parents.
Wow, I thought. Eight years and already - how does one put it? - informed. Well, then, of course, if you’re the daughter of a fertility specialist, you get to know such things before, say, a bishop’s daughter.
I looked over at the red coat. George had laid it down on a bench by the window. It’s a Sunday afternoon sort of coat. I imagined her walking along Fifth Avenue or stopping to look at bracelets on Prince Street in it, her hair sticking out from under a knit hat.
I thought it better to get off the sex question and onto safer ground. Her background. She was born in Jerusalem, goes back there quite often, and she speaks with concern and intelligence about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. She offered a metaphor that I thought was wonderfully appropriate from a David Hare play, Via Dolorosa, about a man who jumps out of a burning building and lands on a passerby and breaks his legs. The passerby says, "You broke my leg." And the man breaks his other leg to shut him up.
She said she thought that was apt in relation to the troubles.
I think that I had a crush on her then. Based on very little information, I decided the following - that she underlines her favorite parts in books, could probably talk a lot about Bob Dylan, and that it would be fun to watch good movies and bad TV shows with her.
I asked her to tell us how it all began. She gave a little sigh, and I knew it was a question every interviewer had to put to her and she was bored to tears answering it. Why hadn’t I made Tom ask that question?
When George asked that question, I remembered that she was famous. Until then it was easy to forget. She sighed. I wanted to turn off the tape recorder and ask her to go ice-skating or something.
It turns out she was discovered in a pizza parlor on Long Island called Mario’s when she was eleven. "This is the worst story", she said. "I hate it so much - so typical." "Oh, but it’s very glamorous", I said. I went on to say that Schwab’s Drugstore on Sunset Boulevard was famous because Lana Turner (according to popular legend) was discovered there. Mario’s Pizza was going to be immortalized. Immediately I realized that I had made three mistakes - first, she didn’t like the idea of immortalizing Mario’s Pizza (neither glamorous nor upscale); second, she very likely didn’t know much about Lana Turner; and third, I had shown my age. Tom was leaning forward. He was going to ask her a question.
I asked her whether she had trouble watching herself onscreen.
What a good question! Rats! Her face lit up. It led her into talking about acting and what it was like to play Nina in Chekhov’s The Seagull with Meryl Streep and Philip Seymor Hoffman, directed by Mike Nichols. She said that while working with Nichols, she had realized for the first time that "you might try and act like the character instead of just wondering what I would do if I were in that situation", learning that it’s so much more about the process than the product.
She said the thing about process being more important than the product and it had sort of the reverse effect on me - I looked down at the tape recorder and wondered what I could write about her that wouldn’t sound stupid. I remembered that George had once told me he couldn’t look at Audrey Hepburn without breaking into tears.
Why does her face light up when she looks at Tom? She described how she would peek over Hoffman’s shoulder at the little notebook he kept in which he wrote questions and the answers about his character’s feelings. It was the first time she had seen actors work as hard. All of this helped, she said, because Nina changes so much in the play - to a character much more mature, wearied, and jaded, and yet so hopeful.
I asked her about stage fright. She said that a friend gave her a quote calendar. "Yesterday’s quote", she said, "was from some inspirational speaker or something and it was like, ‘love is what we’re born with, fear is what we learned here. Spiritual enlightenment is unlearning the fear and relearning the love,’ or something ridiculous like that. But I was like, ‘wow.’ Because it’s sort of true."
There’s an early Salinger story called "The Heart of a Broken Story", and I thought of that title then. There was something about the way she repeated the quote, more so than the quote itself, that was complicated and nice; it hinted at the parts of her you’d most wanted to know.
Her face became animated once more as she talked about how much dedication is required in the acting profession. She said that Streep would take home taped piano versions of Russian folk songs and make up lyrics, and in the middle of a scene or rehearsal, she’d start singing, not only beautiful lyrics, but in the most gorgeous voice. "It’s like, sinful how talented the woman is."
I looked at Natalie and thought what an apt juxtaposition - the teenage like and the worldly-wise use of sinful.
Tom was asking something about what she did when she wasn’t on stage.
It was such a ridiculous question. But then she told us about how she fostered dogs last summer, three of them, because the New York animal shelters are so bad. She kept them in her apartment while she found them homes.
She was almost as animated about the dogs as she was about acting. I haven’t got a pet, but I wished a cat had wandered in at that moment to show that I cared about such things.
I wanted to give her a puppy, a clumsy one named Henry or something. She’d call me from school and hold him up to the phone every now and then. We would become friends and send each other mix tapes. I’d be like, "Natalie, how’s Star Wars?" and she’d be like, "Oh, you know."
While Tom was talking about dogs, trying to make an impression, it kept crossing my mind that we were talking to someone who was only 20 - not even yet at any meaningful crossroads in her life, such as 21. Someone whose year was divided into parts: semesters spent at the university and the summer spent on stage or in front of cameras. So I asked which part was going to persist.
She said, "It’s very easy with school, to sort of dip my toe in the water with acting, but I love it and I care about it and I want to do a good job. So I think I will take the plunge. But I also think I’ll always have to balance it with something else. There are plenty of things to do, especially when you have the luxury of time and the money acting affords."
Tom asked her an interesting question, though it had sort of a personal slant, I thought.
I wondered about her room at school. For some reason, I pictured a string of colored lights around the window. Postcards from art museums. Maybe a Tibetan rug. A bed with lots of handmade pillows. I was romanticizing things. She said she had bought some paint at a hardware store and painted her furniture because she didn’t want to spend a lot of money on stuff the was only going to use for a few years.
Once again, it was a teenager’s room, this dichotomy once again - basic things, a wall of pasted-up photos of her family, high school, pictures from her travels. She said that she was sorry, being so fairly normal about such things, but that she was thinking of turning a corner of the room into a "North African corner, with a tent motif" to commemorate her travels in Morocco while Star Wars was being filmed in Tunisia. "Perhaps, I’ll get a hookah or something," she said.
At this point a curious thing happened. We began playing a word association game, just rambling... I started off with Sanguine
NATALIE: Penguin (!)
TOM: Nuns.
GEORGE: Natalie (!)
NATALIE: Me.
TOM: Tangerine (?)
GEORGE: Elizabeth Taylor.
NATALIE: Jewish.
TOM: Menorah.
GEORGE: Candles.
NATALIE: Light.
TOM: Dark.
GEORGE: Love.
NATALIE: Hate.
TOM: Anger.
GEORGE: Love.
NATALIE: Jerk.
TOM: Off.
GEORGE: Love.
NATALIE: Then.
TOM: Now.
I have no idea what this all means; the repetition of love perhaps a clue. We went down the stairs together. I suggested to Tom that he show her to a taxi. She was on her way back north to school. No point in the two of us out there in cold, and perhaps he’d persuade her to have dinner with him before she left.
I went back upstairs. The apartment seemed quite empty.
Natalie Portman lights up the screen in Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones (Twentieth Century Fox), which hits theaters May 16.
--
Aleph
The Heart of a Broken Story
From the intergalactic worlds of Star Wars to the hallowed halls of her Ivy League school, actress Natalie Portman can light up a room like a bona fide star - or vanish with barely a trace left behind.
Editors’ note: Natalie Portman met George Plimpton once before, at a dinner party in Manhattan. It’s a testament to her precocious that she so impressed an esteemed writer three times before her senior. Most of us first encountered Natalie as a steely and sweet ingénue in The Professional. And, of course, we remember the original Star Wars movies from our own early childhoods. (Natalie had not yet been born when Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back were released, but she is the very embodiment of intergalactic nobility as Senator Padmé Amidala in Star Wars II - Attack of the Clones, which comes out in May.) For this story, Natalie and George met again. Whether to bridge the generation gap, play matchmaker, or keep himself out of trouble, Plimpton brought along his assistant, Thomas Moffett - who is close to Natalie’s age - to serve as both literary foil and conversational counterpoint. A double-barreled account of their meeting ensues...
She sat cross-legged, gaminelike, in the depths of a large sofa, the two of us sitting opposite in armchairs. She was wearing worn blue jeans. Her hips are nonexistent, so that when she leaned forward or to one side or the other, the jeans stood away from her skin, and it was prudent to look up at her face. She has ears like a fawn’s, dark hair tucked behind them. She is twenty. An Ivy League junior. A movie star. I am well over three times her age, but when she came into the room, my heart jumped. I introduced her to Tom. He is also young and thin-hipped and had been in a state of anxiety thinking about her. "Oh God", he had suddenly said three or four times in the hour before her arrival.
The interview began. I didn’t really know where to start. Tom was apparently lost in thought simply looking at her.
Earlier, before she arrived, George wondered whether we should take her to the carousel in Central Park or maybe a dinner and some drinks. He pointed out that Natalie and I are about the same age and might "hit it off".
"Come on, George", I said.
"She’s terribly attractive", he said.
"I know", I said.
George helped her out of a red wool coat when she came into his apartment. She sat under a Warhol silk-screen of a liquor store bill. I looked at her feet. She was wearing not-very-stylish running shoes and white tennis socks. I decided then that I liked her. Everything else was pretty - the little bits of glitter on her jeans, the shape of her shoulders beneath the thin black sweater, the mole on her left cheek, her eyes that looked like pieces of chocolate. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
I asked about her father. He turned out to be a fertility specialist. "A fertility specialist?" I said. "So in a funny way, he probably thinks of himself as having lots of progeny."
She has an odd laugh, not at all girlish, but quite abrupt - almost a bark - and distinctively charming. She said, "Oh yes, he’ll come home from work and tell me how many women he got pregnant today."
She has a really cool voice, imperfectly polished. So does George. His is impossibly well-heeled. He said sperm several times, adding unexpected charm to the word. She laughed.
She said that her father told her funny stories about his patients trying to deliver their sperm iced in little vials and getting caught in the traffic, the sperm spilling out when the taxi suddenly accelerated (a very New York story, it occurred to me as she was telling it), and that at school she would tell the stories to her classmates - this is in the second grade! - and the teachers would call to complain to her parents.
Wow, I thought. Eight years and already - how does one put it? - informed. Well, then, of course, if you’re the daughter of a fertility specialist, you get to know such things before, say, a bishop’s daughter.
I looked over at the red coat. George had laid it down on a bench by the window. It’s a Sunday afternoon sort of coat. I imagined her walking along Fifth Avenue or stopping to look at bracelets on Prince Street in it, her hair sticking out from under a knit hat.
I thought it better to get off the sex question and onto safer ground. Her background. She was born in Jerusalem, goes back there quite often, and she speaks with concern and intelligence about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. She offered a metaphor that I thought was wonderfully appropriate from a David Hare play, Via Dolorosa, about a man who jumps out of a burning building and lands on a passerby and breaks his legs. The passerby says, "You broke my leg." And the man breaks his other leg to shut him up.
She said she thought that was apt in relation to the troubles.
I think that I had a crush on her then. Based on very little information, I decided the following - that she underlines her favorite parts in books, could probably talk a lot about Bob Dylan, and that it would be fun to watch good movies and bad TV shows with her.
I asked her to tell us how it all began. She gave a little sigh, and I knew it was a question every interviewer had to put to her and she was bored to tears answering it. Why hadn’t I made Tom ask that question?
When George asked that question, I remembered that she was famous. Until then it was easy to forget. She sighed. I wanted to turn off the tape recorder and ask her to go ice-skating or something.
It turns out she was discovered in a pizza parlor on Long Island called Mario’s when she was eleven. "This is the worst story", she said. "I hate it so much - so typical." "Oh, but it’s very glamorous", I said. I went on to say that Schwab’s Drugstore on Sunset Boulevard was famous because Lana Turner (according to popular legend) was discovered there. Mario’s Pizza was going to be immortalized. Immediately I realized that I had made three mistakes - first, she didn’t like the idea of immortalizing Mario’s Pizza (neither glamorous nor upscale); second, she very likely didn’t know much about Lana Turner; and third, I had shown my age. Tom was leaning forward. He was going to ask her a question.
I asked her whether she had trouble watching herself onscreen.
What a good question! Rats! Her face lit up. It led her into talking about acting and what it was like to play Nina in Chekhov’s The Seagull with Meryl Streep and Philip Seymor Hoffman, directed by Mike Nichols. She said that while working with Nichols, she had realized for the first time that "you might try and act like the character instead of just wondering what I would do if I were in that situation", learning that it’s so much more about the process than the product.
She said the thing about process being more important than the product and it had sort of the reverse effect on me - I looked down at the tape recorder and wondered what I could write about her that wouldn’t sound stupid. I remembered that George had once told me he couldn’t look at Audrey Hepburn without breaking into tears.
Why does her face light up when she looks at Tom? She described how she would peek over Hoffman’s shoulder at the little notebook he kept in which he wrote questions and the answers about his character’s feelings. It was the first time she had seen actors work as hard. All of this helped, she said, because Nina changes so much in the play - to a character much more mature, wearied, and jaded, and yet so hopeful.
I asked her about stage fright. She said that a friend gave her a quote calendar. "Yesterday’s quote", she said, "was from some inspirational speaker or something and it was like, ‘love is what we’re born with, fear is what we learned here. Spiritual enlightenment is unlearning the fear and relearning the love,’ or something ridiculous like that. But I was like, ‘wow.’ Because it’s sort of true."
There’s an early Salinger story called "The Heart of a Broken Story", and I thought of that title then. There was something about the way she repeated the quote, more so than the quote itself, that was complicated and nice; it hinted at the parts of her you’d most wanted to know.
Her face became animated once more as she talked about how much dedication is required in the acting profession. She said that Streep would take home taped piano versions of Russian folk songs and make up lyrics, and in the middle of a scene or rehearsal, she’d start singing, not only beautiful lyrics, but in the most gorgeous voice. "It’s like, sinful how talented the woman is."
I looked at Natalie and thought what an apt juxtaposition - the teenage like and the worldly-wise use of sinful.
Tom was asking something about what she did when she wasn’t on stage.
It was such a ridiculous question. But then she told us about how she fostered dogs last summer, three of them, because the New York animal shelters are so bad. She kept them in her apartment while she found them homes.
She was almost as animated about the dogs as she was about acting. I haven’t got a pet, but I wished a cat had wandered in at that moment to show that I cared about such things.
I wanted to give her a puppy, a clumsy one named Henry or something. She’d call me from school and hold him up to the phone every now and then. We would become friends and send each other mix tapes. I’d be like, "Natalie, how’s Star Wars?" and she’d be like, "Oh, you know."
While Tom was talking about dogs, trying to make an impression, it kept crossing my mind that we were talking to someone who was only 20 - not even yet at any meaningful crossroads in her life, such as 21. Someone whose year was divided into parts: semesters spent at the university and the summer spent on stage or in front of cameras. So I asked which part was going to persist.
She said, "It’s very easy with school, to sort of dip my toe in the water with acting, but I love it and I care about it and I want to do a good job. So I think I will take the plunge. But I also think I’ll always have to balance it with something else. There are plenty of things to do, especially when you have the luxury of time and the money acting affords."
Tom asked her an interesting question, though it had sort of a personal slant, I thought.
I wondered about her room at school. For some reason, I pictured a string of colored lights around the window. Postcards from art museums. Maybe a Tibetan rug. A bed with lots of handmade pillows. I was romanticizing things. She said she had bought some paint at a hardware store and painted her furniture because she didn’t want to spend a lot of money on stuff the was only going to use for a few years.
Once again, it was a teenager’s room, this dichotomy once again - basic things, a wall of pasted-up photos of her family, high school, pictures from her travels. She said that she was sorry, being so fairly normal about such things, but that she was thinking of turning a corner of the room into a "North African corner, with a tent motif" to commemorate her travels in Morocco while Star Wars was being filmed in Tunisia. "Perhaps, I’ll get a hookah or something," she said.
At this point a curious thing happened. We began playing a word association game, just rambling... I started off with Sanguine
NATALIE: Penguin (!)
TOM: Nuns.
GEORGE: Natalie (!)
NATALIE: Me.
TOM: Tangerine (?)
GEORGE: Elizabeth Taylor.
NATALIE: Jewish.
TOM: Menorah.
GEORGE: Candles.
NATALIE: Light.
TOM: Dark.
GEORGE: Love.
NATALIE: Hate.
TOM: Anger.
GEORGE: Love.
NATALIE: Jerk.
TOM: Off.
GEORGE: Love.
NATALIE: Then.
TOM: Now.
I have no idea what this all means; the repetition of love perhaps a clue. We went down the stairs together. I suggested to Tom that he show her to a taxi. She was on her way back north to school. No point in the two of us out there in cold, and perhaps he’d persuade her to have dinner with him before she left.
I went back upstairs. The apartment seemed quite empty.
Natalie Portman lights up the screen in Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones (Twentieth Century Fox), which hits theaters May 16.
--
Aleph
''The Heart of a Broken Story'' jetzt http://www.natalieportman.com/articles/blackbo302.shtml von np.com.
Transcript zum Artikel "TV-Hintergrund Star Wars" aus der TVdirekt Nr. 8/2002
Da ich gerade Langeweile hatte, habe ich mal den Star Wars-Bericht aus der aktuellen TVdirekt abgetippt. Also pure Information, keine störenden Bilder.
Hier der Link:
http://www.avenging-angel.de/temp/transscript.htm (Spoiler-Warnung!)
Da ich gerade Langeweile hatte, habe ich mal den Star Wars-Bericht aus der aktuellen TVdirekt abgetippt. Also pure Information, keine störenden Bilder.
Hier der Link:
http://www.avenging-angel.de/temp/transscript.htm (Spoiler-Warnung!)
Transcript zum Krieg der Sterne-Bericht der TV Movie Ausgabe 8/2002
So, nun habe ich auch noch diesen Bericht in ein Internet-taugliches Format gebracht. Wer die Special Edition von der ersten Star Wars-Trilogie noch nicht gesehen hat, der sei gewarnt: Spoiler!
Hier der Link:
http://www.avenging-angel.de/temp/transscript2.htm
So, nun habe ich auch noch diesen Bericht in ein Internet-taugliches Format gebracht. Wer die Special Edition von der ersten Star Wars-Trilogie noch nicht gesehen hat, der sei gewarnt: Spoiler!
Hier der Link:
http://www.avenging-angel.de/temp/transscript2.htm
Natalie und Hayden zieren das Titelbild der Aprilausgabe von http://www.bigonion.de/ew-cover-april.jpg.
--
Aleph
--
Aleph
Ich habe damit begonnen, rumliegende Artikel, Photos und Werbezettel zu scannen und abzutippen. Den Beginn machen:
Leon-Besprechung, Entertainment Weekly, 2. Dezember 1994: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/EW941202.jpg]
Steckbrief, BOP magazine, Datum unbekannt: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/BOP.htm] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/BOP.jpg]
Artikel, Entertainment Weekly, ??.??.1996: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/EW96.htm] [Scans http://www.aenos.de/artikel/EW96-1.jpg, http://www.aenos.de/artikel/EW96-2.jpg]
WTHI-Kritik, US weekly, 15. Mai 2000: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/USw000515.htm] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/USw000515.jpg]
Japanische Kino-Handzettel zu WTHI: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/WTHIfoxjp01.jpg] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/WTHIfoxjp02.jpg] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/WTHIfoxjp03.jpg] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/WTHIfoxjp04.jpg]
http://www.aenos.de/artikel/Scr0009auto.jpg, Screen 9/2000
--
Aleph
[ Diese Nachricht wurde geändert von: Aleph am 2002-04-07 13:49 ]
Leon-Besprechung, Entertainment Weekly, 2. Dezember 1994: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/EW941202.jpg]
Steckbrief, BOP magazine, Datum unbekannt: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/BOP.htm] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/BOP.jpg]
Artikel, Entertainment Weekly, ??.??.1996: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/EW96.htm] [Scans http://www.aenos.de/artikel/EW96-1.jpg, http://www.aenos.de/artikel/EW96-2.jpg]
WTHI-Kritik, US weekly, 15. Mai 2000: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/USw000515.htm] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/USw000515.jpg]
Japanische Kino-Handzettel zu WTHI: [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/WTHIfoxjp01.jpg] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/WTHIfoxjp02.jpg] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/WTHIfoxjp03.jpg] [http://www.aenos.de/artikel/WTHIfoxjp04.jpg]
http://www.aenos.de/artikel/Scr0009auto.jpg, Screen 9/2000
--
Aleph
[ Diese Nachricht wurde geändert von: Aleph am 2002-04-07 13:49 ]
Ich konnte bereits die Artikel folgender Zeitschrift abtippen:
Cinema, August 1999
TV Spielfilm, Mitte Juni 1999
Brigitte, März 2000
Alle Artikel sind deutschsprachig. Falls Ihr in Euren Schubladen weitere rumliegen habt, würde ich mich sehr über einen Brief an mailto:robert@np.de freuen! Natürlich nicht nur zu Privatzwecken, sondern für die Einbindung in eine Artikel-Sektion, an der ich gerade arbeite.
--
Robert
[ Diese Nachricht wurde geändert von Robert am 2006-06-11 21:02 ]
Cinema, August 1999
TV Spielfilm, Mitte Juni 1999
Brigitte, März 2000
Alle Artikel sind deutschsprachig. Falls Ihr in Euren Schubladen weitere rumliegen habt, würde ich mich sehr über einen Brief an mailto:robert@np.de freuen! Natürlich nicht nur zu Privatzwecken, sondern für die Einbindung in eine Artikel-Sektion, an der ich gerade arbeite.
--
Robert
[ Diese Nachricht wurde geändert von Robert am 2006-06-11 21:02 ]
Zwei Vier weitere mit eingebauten Bilderlinks:
http://aenos.de/artikel/Premiere9411.htm
http://aenos.de/artikel/NEON97.htm
http://aenos.de/artikel/VFUK9512.htm
http://aenos.de/artikel/moviestarAI.jpg, auf der Natalie etwas weniger genervt guckt.
--
Aleph
[ Diese Nachricht wurde geändert von: Aleph am 2002-04-07 21:05 ]
http://aenos.de/artikel/Premiere9411.htm
http://aenos.de/artikel/NEON97.htm
http://aenos.de/artikel/VFUK9512.htm
http://aenos.de/artikel/moviestarAI.jpg, auf der Natalie etwas weniger genervt guckt.
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Aleph
[ Diese Nachricht wurde geändert von: Aleph am 2002-04-07 21:05 ]