The Screengrab : martin ritt

DVD Digest for November 18, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 15:00:00 GMT

This week, some of summer’s biggest hits arrive in stores in time for the holiday shopping season, along with a handful of choice classics.

DVD of the week: With all the care Pixar devotes to creating their theatrical releases, it’s amazing that they have any time left for their DVDs. However, Pixar’s DVD editions are almost invariably first-rate, and this week’s release of WALL-E would appear to be no exception. We begin, of course, with the razor-sharp transfer of the movie itself, which comes directly from the digital master, making it arguably crisper than could be found in the theatre. But that’s only the beginning, with two animated shorts (one seen in theatres, the other a DVD original), featurettes on the film’s sound design, visual design, music, character design, and more. Finally, there are a number of features on WALL-E that take viewers into the world of the film, including a documentary about the movie’s robotic cast, and short films about the nefarious “Buy N Large” corporation from its inception to their Earth Exit plan, and beyond. Needless to say, WALL-E is an ideal DVD for kids, but it’s also a must-have even if you don’t have a family to buy for this holiday season.

Other recent releases coming to DVD this week: Ben Stiller’s Hollywood action satire Tropic Thunder (Paramount, also Blu-Ray); America Ferrara, Amber Tamblyn and friends in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 (Warner, also Blu-Ray); and a quartet of acclaimed indie films- Werner Herzog’s Encounters at the End of the World (Image); the documentary Gonzo: The Life and Work of Hunter S. Thompson (Magnolia); Harmony Korine’s Mister Lonely (Genius); and Audrey Tautou in Priceless (First Look).

On the classics front, the big release this week is David Lynch: The Lime Green Box Set (Absurda), which includes the new-to-DVD Industrial Symphony No. 1, plus the remastered Eraserhead, a Lynch-approved 5.1-surround version of Blue Velvet, The Elephant Man, Wild at Heart, The Short Films of David Lynch, Dumbland, along with new extras for Elephant Man and Wild at Heart, the Eraserhead soundtrack, and a “Mystery Disc” full of exclusive Lynch goodies. Or if you’re looking for something a little more “classical”, pick up the new Criterion editions of Martin Ritt’s masterful adaptation of the John le Carre novel, The Spy Who Came In From the Cold, or the French swashbuckler Fanfan la Tulipe. Also worth mentioning is the release of Fred Schepisi’s long-unavailable classic of Australian cinema, The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (Ryko Distribution).

In a slow week for TV on DVD, the most noteworthy title is Bones Season 3 (Fox).

Finally, this week presents the most definitive argument that Blu-Ray has really arrived, with a plethora of mostly crappy Blu-Ray only releases. The exceptions are Curtis Hanson’s pretty-good Eminem vehicle 8 Mile (Universal) and the Neil Gaiman-scripted Mirrormask (Sony). But other than that, it’s looking pretty dire, with the Martin Lawrence double feature of Blue Streak (Sony) and National Security (Sony), Guy Ritchie’s Revolver (Sony), and Richard Kelly’s Southland Tales (Sony), which if nothing else remains the most definitive cinematic statement about the ongoing war over teen horniness. I’m for decriminalization, by the way.

Screengrab Salutes: The Paul Newman Top Ten (Part Three)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 15:00:00 GMT

4. BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID (1969)

Straddling the line between the revolutionary filmmaking of the 1970s and the tail end of classic Hollywood, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is one of those movies that isn’t legendary because it’s important, or because it’s meaningful, or because it broke some rich new ground in the language of filmmaking. It’s legendary because it’s funny, fun, and incredibly entertaining. It’s also one of those films where everyone seems to be firing on all cylinders; the sly buddy-western could easily be counted as a career high for Robert Redford, director George Roy Hill and his cameraman Connie Hall, screenwriter William Goldman, and even composer Burt Bacharach. But Paul Newman is the glue that holds everything together: taking on Goldman’s witty dialogue, he gives it just enough of a human, weary edge that it doesn’t seem as over-the-top as it might coming from some actors. Some performers go their whole lives without snaring a part like Butch Cassidy, and others get one, but handle it all wrong. You sometimes hear actors referred to as intelligent, but rarely movie stars; it’s a testament to how bright Paul Newman was that he was handed a role as rich as this one and figured it out immediately, playing it on screen as perfectly as it could be played. This is a real movie star role, and Newman handles it like a real movie star.

3. NOBODY’S FOOL (1994) & THE VERDICT (1982)

I’ll admit I'm cheating here, attempting to squeeze an eleventh film into this Top Ten list, but I simply couldn’t decide which late-period Newman film I liked best, so I figured I’d call it a tie. Two sides of the same rumpled coin, The Verdict’s beaten-down Boston lawyer Frank Galvin, fighting an impossible battle against the Catholic Church, and Sully, the beaten-down small town ne’er-do-well Newman plays in Nobody’s Fool are both men with no expectations of success or happiness in their lonely lives who nevertheless find redemption despite and because of their own stubborn tenacity. One of the hallmarks of Newman’s career was the Mercedes caliber acting, writing and directing he seemed to attract to most of his star vehicles, and these two films more than hold their own with regard to above-the-line talent. Charlotte Rampling, Jack Warden, James Mason and helmer Sidney Lumet provide typically stellar support in The Verdict, but one of the pleasures of Nobody’s Fool is watching Newman (and acclaimed co-stars like Jessica Tandy and Phillip Seymour Hoffman) bring out the best in frequently wasted and underestimated actors like Bruce Willis (in a supporting role as a big fish businessman in a small upstate New York pond) and Melanie Griffith (happily erasing memories of their previous on-screen pairing in Bonfire of the Vanities as Willis’ dissatisfied trophy wife). Yet despite all the impressive talent surrounding him, Newman is the heart and soul of both films, dominating them with master class, world-weary performances that just make you want to punch the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences right in the face for awarding him his only Best Actor Oscar for The Color of freakin’ Money.

2. HUD (1963)

Newman never took his anti-hero routine farther into "anti-" territory than in this family drama, set in a dusty, unromantic modern Texas. He plays the title role, which turns out not to be that of the Department of Housing and Urban Development but rather a selfish but dashing heel who, in the context of a small rural town situated on the wrong end of the 1960s, qualifies as about as hot as hot shit gets. Hud roughly fits the mold but finally breaks the tradition of such earlier Hollywood characters as the Bogart heroes, who were always talking about how they stuck their neck out for nobody and only cared about keeping their own hides safe and comfortable because Hud really means it; he remains defiantly unredeemed to the movie's end. Seen as daring in its day, the movie actually risks being too morally clear-cut. What keeps it alive and spiky after all these years is that, thanks to Newman, it's hard not to feel closer to this bastard than to his pure and upright antagonists, the boringly earnest young man (Brandon De Wilde) who has to learn to see through him, and the crotchety father (Melvyn Douglas) who seems to have been judging him as harshly as possible for every minute of their shared lives, and who finally seems to die of impacted self-righteousness...especially since Newman and the director, Martin Ritt, seemed to understand something real about the sensual attractiveness of evil: in this, the least sympathetic role of the first half of his career, Newman was probably sexier than he'd ever been before, which is saying something.

1. THE HUSTLER (1961)

Newman entered his second decade as a movie star, and established himself as a man with staying power, as Fast Eddie Felsen, the cocky pool shark who's set on proving himself a winner -- which he does, though at the loss of his innocence, a girl (Piper Laurie), and the game that's the only thing he's ever been able to claim to be the best at. In addition to the tart dialogue and the opportunity to go head-to-head with George C. Scott (at the peak of his powers as a sly stealer of scenes) and Jackie Gleason (in the most pleasingly assured dramatic performance of his life), the role gave Newman the chance to grow up on camera. In the final battle of the billiard balls, he trades in the self-infatuated, head-jiggling grins and showy flare-ups of the early scenes for a quiet gravity, with suggestions of violent emotions kept under powerful control beneath the surface. It was a good indicator of just how well the actor himself would be able to weather the aging process in the years to come, steadily improving with time while the careers of so many of his contemporaries receded to the background or turned brown at the edges.

Click Here for Part One & Part Two

Contributors: Leonard Pierce, Andrew Osborne, Phil Nugent

Screengrab Salutes: The Paul Newman Top Ten (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Notable individuals die all the time, and we react with varying degrees of sadness or indifference when their names appear in the weekly obituary sections of magazines like, say, Entertainment Weekly or Time.

But every now and then, a celebrity death truly shocks us, because we really, truly thought the individual in question had already died sometime in the late ‘80s.

Occasionally, though, we react to celebrity death with the heartfelt regret usually reserved for people we actually knew. I moped around for days after heart failure claimed Glenn “Divine” Milstead in 1988, and the 2006 loss of Robert Altman felt like the passing of a beloved, crotchety grandfather.

Paul Newman outlived them both, surviving to the ripe old age of 83. In fact, by a strange coincidence, Wikipedia just informed me that Newman and Altman were both somehow born in 1925, which simply doesn’t compute in my perceptual reckoning of things. How could Newman be older than Robert Altman, or my father, or...or Robert Redford, ferchrissakes? Intellectually, of course, I knew he was old: his film career started way back in 1954 with The Silver Chalice, though I always (erroneously) associated him more with the Baby Boomer class of Nicholson and Beatty, thanks to ‘60s and ‘70s classics like The Sting and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Yet, even as Newman aged before our eyes into one of cinema’s grumpy old men in films like Twilight and Road to Perdition, it somehow never registered that he was actually old old. I mean, the man drove freakin’ race cars! How can he be gone while Cheney continues relentlessly on?

Alas...and yet, my Screengrab colleague Phil Nugent has already written a fine memorial tribute to this impressive humanitarian, salad dressing mogul and celebrated paragon of “the Hollywood Elite,” and so we come not to bury Paul Newman but to praise him, and the Top Ten films we’ll always remember him by.

10. THE LONG HOT SUMMER (1958)

This Dixie-fried melodrama, directed by Martin Ritt (who later re-teamed with Newman for Hud), is supposed to be based on the writings of William Faulkner. As a treatment of a great American author it's a soap opera, but as a soap opera it's one hell of an overripe Southern-Gothic sudser, with Newman (modeling the latest in sweat-stained wifebeaters) and a cast that includes Orson Welles, Angela Lansbury, Lee Remick, and Anthony Franciosa making with the wild-eyed ravings in cracker accents that might have been delivered to the set in ten-gallon drums. In addition to its shameless entertainment value, it has a special sentimental place in Newman's oeuvre for marking the on-screen meeting of our hero and his offscreen heroine, Joanne Woodward. The plot revolves around a deal that Newman's hungry drifter, Ben Quick, makes with Welles' bloated paterfamilias, Will Varner, to win the hand of Varner's daughter, played by Woodward, who Will fears will otherwise marry poorly to a girly man played by Richard Anderson, AKA TV's Oscar Goldman. In the movie, Woodward remains stoically resistant to Newman's hard-bodied charms. In real life, not so much, and the two of them, who had met two years earlier while understudying the leads in Picnic (at a time when Newman was still inconveniently married to his first wife) reportedly spent much of the shoot making up for lost time. They would work together another dozen or so times, in co-starring gigs and in movies where Newman directed Woodward, but this is the movie that preserves the priceless and unforgettable sight of two very hot people first fully celebrating how hot they were for each other.

9. THE HUDSUCKER PROXY

One of the most amazing things about Paul Newman’s career was how long he was able to get away with working as a leading man. Well into his sixties and seventies, when most actors -- even A-list stars -- tend to be cast in father or mentor roles to nursemaid younger talent, Newman was still flashing those famous cobalt blues, attracting the women, and carrying movies on his ever-capable shoulders. Best of all, he made it work. Yet in his last two decades, Newman also took on several interesting supporting roles. He received an Oscar nomination for his work in Road to Perdition, and in his final theatrical film, he voiced Doc Hudson, the gruff paterfamilias of the town of Radiator Springs, in Pixar’s Cars (let’s forget Message in a Bottle, shall we?). But best of all was his work in the Coen brothers’ sadly under-appreciated The Hudsucker Proxy. In this Art Deco take on a Preston Sturges-style comedy, Newman might seem an ill fit for the role of Hudsucker Industries vice-president Sidney J. Mussburger, the sort of corporate fat cat that might once have been played by Akim Tamiroff. But damn if Newman isn’t a treat to watch. Having built a fruitful career on his ability to make acting look easy, here he takes the opposite tack, giving a performance as stylized as any he’s ever given. In lesser hands, it might have felt like overacting -- look no further than Jennifer Jason Leigh’s performance in the same film for proof. But Newman pulls it off magnificently by somehow under-playing the role, never turning the character into an excuse to twist his (invisible) mustache. Instead, he simply turns the patented Newman charm back on itself, showing it used to an entirely different end. Who could ever forget the way he punctuates seemingly half his lines with a grunted “sure-sure”? In The Hudsucker Proxy, Newman gives us a tantalizing hint of what an irresistible character actor he might’ve been even if he hadn’t been so genetically blessed.

8. SLAP SHOT (1977)

It was asking way too much of Slap Shot for lightning to strike a third time. Hell, it was asking too much of The Sting for lightning to strike twice – and yet the second pairing of Paul Newman, Robert Redford, and director George Roy Hill, following the hugely successful Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid proved to be a giant hit as well, satisfying critics and audiences alike. But Hill’s third go-round with Newman in the lead role didn’t have a William Goldman writing the screenplay, and Robert Redford probably wouldn’t have played particularly well as one of the Hanson Brothers, so the two of them went it alone. The story of the final days of a fading, brawling, largely out-of-control minor league hockey team wasn’t as successful as the previous two films, and it certainly didn’t garner the same level of critical praise. But though some great supporting performances and a funny, filthy script by Nancy Dowd played their part, it’s undeniably a testament to Paul Newman’s undying charisma and likeability as an actor that a lot of people would name Slap Shot as their favorite of all his movies. Newman (who featured as one of his most lasting traits the appearance that he genuinely enjoyed what he did for a living) is clearly having a ball as the foul-mouthed, dysfunctional player-coach of the Charlestown Chiefs (a character partly modeled on the notorious John Brophy). The role even spilled over into his real life: he complained to Time, seven years after the movie premiered, that since playing Reg Dunlop, his language had been “straight out of the locker room”.

Click Here for Part Two & Part Three

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Phil Nugent, Paul Clark, Leonard Pierce

Take Five: Labor Day

Leonard Pierce — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 20:30:00 GMT

Usually, the Screengrab's Take Five feature is inspired by some new release coming out the day we go to press. However, sometimes, if the raft of new releases in relatively uninspiring or inappropriate, we go with a different sort of them, and since today is the start of Labor Day weekend, what better time to salute organized labor? After all, some of us are union men ourselves (hey, the National Writer's Union is too a real union! We're part of the United Auto Workers for some reason!); and what with the writer's strike earlier this year that brought the movie business to a near-halt, and the possibility of an actor's strike later in the year coming along to finish what the writer's strike started, America hasn't been this aware of what organized labor is up to in years! Unfortunately, unless Vin Diesel's mercenary Thoorop in Babylon A.D. happens to be a dues-paying member of the International Brotherhood of Hired Killers & Machinegun Operators, there's no new released this holiday weekend that are even remotely about unions or the labor struggle. But that doesn't mean we can't dip back into our video vaults and come up with five fine flicks about working-class struggle for your Labor Day enjoyment. (And, as a special treat before you go back to work on Tuesday, take a few hours to watch Barbara Kopple's masterful Harlan County U.S.A., referenced in last week's Take Five.) Happy Labor Day, readers!

MATEWAN (1987)

Possibly John Sayles' finest film, Matewan depicts -- with the heart of a union man and the eye of an artist -- the brutal struggle to unionize among the West Virginia coal miners of the 1920s, one of the bloodiest periods in the history of organized labor. Based on the Matewan Massacre of 1920 and featuring breathtaking cinematography by Haskell Wexler, Matewan' s powerful story is bouyed by wall-to-wall terrific performances by Chris Cooper, David Strathairn, James Earl Jones, and a young Will Oldham, in his pre-rock star days. Essential.

NORMA RAE (1979)

Martin Ritt's feel-good hit about a scrappy female textile worker who takes on the burden of being the point woman for unionizing the clothing mill in the deep South that employs her hasn't held up particularly well -- it's got a handful of good performances (and won star Sally Field an Oscar), but at times it comes across as a bit hokey. But it still stands as a testament to one of the last flashes of union glory in the U.S. before Ronald Reagan's Republicans started their unrelenting war against organized labor in America. Worth watching as a document of its day.

ROGER & ME (1989)

Sure, nowadays, it's pretty easy even for liberals to make fun of Michael Moore. His insistence on making himself part of his stories has gotten out of hand, and in many ways, he's become the caricature lefty the right has always accused him of being. But in 1989, when he launched his quixotic quest to have just a few words with General Motors CEO Roger Smith and ask him to look at the massive devastation wrought by his moving manufacturing jobs out of Flint, MI to avoid union costs, he seemed like a true breath of fresh air and a voice for the voiceless.

THE GRAPES OF WRATH (1940)

It's almost impossible now to overestimate the impact of John Steinbeck's finest novel and the stirring masterpiece of a film that John Ford made of it. With the sting of the Depression fresh in the minds of millions of viewers -- and with labor conflicts so intense that big agricultural interests in California sought to have the movie banned, just as they removed copies of the book from California libraries -- the gorgeous, moving film was no stolid classic then, but an urgent cry for justice and decency at a time when the country was in its direst of straits.

AMERICAN DREAM (1990)

By the time Barbara Kopple finished her disturbing, heartbreaking documentary about a strike by meat packers at the Austin, MN Hormel plant, Reaganism's determination to crush unions wherever they could be found had already made its tragic story about the slow, tangled dismantling and destruction of a labor negotiating unit a familiar one all over the country. A far more ambiguous work than her Harlan County U.S.A., American Dream nonetheless shows the unremitting sadness of the direction our country took when it allowed ideologues to launch an assault on the hard-won gains of the working class.

Summerfest '08: "The Long Hot Summer"

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 19:45:00 GMT

When we started Summerfest '08 a few weeks ago, our goals were simple: identify a handful of movies with the word 'summer' in the title; figure out which ones were worth popping on to your DVD player while waiting for your watermelon to fully saturate with vodka; make a couple of snotty comments about them; and carry on with the knowledge that we have helped keep you cool for a few hours. This week's picture, though, falls rather short of that final goal. Whether you're watching it from a hammock in your backyard or a clean, sleek love seat in the basement, 1958's The Long Hot Summer won't cool you down. It'll make you hot: hot like a sweaty southern summer. Hot like a repressed debutante. Hot like Paul Newman in an undershirt before his face became synonymous with upscale salad dressings and organic Orio knockoffs. Reading (and with good reason) like a bizarre mash-up of Raymond Chandler, William Faulkner and Tennessee Williams, The Long Hot Summer lives up to its name like no movie before or sense, and if you weren't sweating before you started watching it, you will be afterwards. Hell, you don't even have to watch it -- although we don't know why anyone would deny themselves the pleasure of watching Joanne Woodward and Lee Remick looking like wilted hothouse flowers, all you have to do is listen to the overblown hotbox noir dialogue in this picture to positively swoon from the torridness of it all.

So mop your face with a handkerchief, push your hat back on your head, order up a tall mint julep, and get ready for The Long Hot Summer.

THE ACTION: In what is, surprisingly, not the beginning of a porn movie, a young stud named Ben Quick hitches a ride into a town called Frenchman's Bend, in rural Mississippi. Ben has a reputation for barn-burning, which is the sort of thing people did for kicks back then while waitig for a new farmgirl to seduce. Most people are none too happy to see Ben come to town -- most especially Clara and Eula Varner, played by Woodward and Remick, but town patriarch Will Varner sees a youthful reflection of himself in the sweaty hothead. He also sees a number of qualities lacking in his son Jody (Tony Franciosa), who, this being the 1950s and all, the movie is not allowed to say is a homosexual. Gaudy, sexually charged patter ensues. Eventually, everyone in town erupts in an explosion of damp clothing and meaningful looks, and the barns of Frenchman's Bend will never be the same again.

THE PLAYERS: The Long Hot Summer is directed by Martin Ritt, a longtime Hollywood pro who directed dozens of pretty decent movies without ever having developed much of a reputation for anything other than reliability. He does have to his credit the fact that, according to Hollywood legend, during filming of this movie, he became the only person to get the notoriously implacable Orson Welles to behave by driving the great man out to the middle of the Louisiana swamp and threatening to abandon him there if he didn't shape up and start making nice. While the movie is based on three short stories by William Faulkner ("Spotted Horses", "The Hamlet", and "Barn Burning"), it's written in high noir style by the husband-and-wife team of Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank, a duo mostly noted for their work in westerns, and plays like Tennessee Willliams if he liked girls as much as he liked decadence. The entire cast, including a shockingly smokin' Angela Lansbury as Welles' mistress, absolutely swelters in the crushing heat.

SUMMER FUN: No one goes to the beach, but everyone's having fun, if you know what we mean. Volleyball is likewise in short supply, but Newman's Ben Quick seems to be having a great time trying to decide which of the two innocent flowers of southern maidenhood he's going to trample into the dust first. Orson Welles is a holy terror in this movie, overacting like there's no tomorrow and no doubt making everyone else on the set wish that Ritt had shot him a few times before dumping him in the swamp; but he seems to be having a good time despite the fact that it was so hot during filming that the big honking prosthetic nose he wore as Will Varner kept falling off of his face. The only person who isn't having any fun (at least until the movie's tacked-on happy ending) is the relentlessly abused Tony Franciosa. who everybody else yells at.

HAWAIIAN SHIRTS: It was once a fashion truism that the south was always ten years late on picking up any new fashions, and this was certainly true at the time; while denizens of the West Coast had been rocking jazzy Aloha shirts just after WWII, in the Louisiana of The Long Hot Summer, it was the kind of garment that only someone like Tony Franciosa would wear, if you get catch the drift. Newman, however, permanently etched himself in the libidos of America's women by parading around in nothing but a fedora, an undershirt and a few strategically placed sweat stains, and Orson Welles was kind enought to refrain from sporting a fat-guy Hawaiian until his Muppet-era films. The kind of fun being had in this movie was far too nasty and naughty to lend itself to the cheap signifier of Nylon with Polynesian patterns.

BIKINI PARTY TIME: Sadly -- almost unforgivably, given that this is a movie that contains not only a young Joanne Woodward but Lee Remick as well -- there are no bilkinis to be found anywhere in The Long Hot Summer. However, that's understandable; with no cooling sea breezes on their way from the humid Gulf Coast, they probably wouldn't have been all that comfortable; and with a guy like Ben Quick (which one hopes merely describes his method of seduction and not its end result) around, bikinis would probably just get in your way. In the end, the movie is a bit overripe, far too determined to be Tennessee Williams with too little Valium, and not as deep as it should be given the Faulkner pedigree. But it's hot as hell in that partcular southern-Gothic way, it's reasonably well-acted, and it's got enough snappy dialogue to choke Orson Welles. Of whom Newman says: "I respect him. I admire his manners and I admire the speeches he makes and I admire the big house he lives in. But if you're saving it all for him honey, you've got your account in the wrong bank". Now that's hot.

Famous Last Words: Round 1, Week 7

Paul Clark — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 20:00:00 GMT

Like John Frankenheimer, Arthur Penn, and Sidney Lumet, director Martin Ritt got his start in the early days of television. And while he's never gotten the critical love of his former colleagues, he had a diverse and successful career in Hollywood, with such films to his name as The Front, Norma Rae, and my favorite of the bunch, The Spy Who Came In From the Cold. Last week's quote was taken from perhaps his most beloved film, 1963's Hud. Based on an early novel by Larry McMurtry and starring Paul Newman and Oscar-winners Patricia Neal and Melvyn Douglas, Hud also boasts cinematography by the great James Wong Howe, and is one of the best example of black-and-white 'Scope photography to come out of Hollywood. Congrats to those who identified the quote.

Halfway through the round, and there are still quite a few people contending for the top prize. I guess I'm going to have to make the questions a little tougher from now on. Try this one on for size:

“To the memory of that great man who will never cease to exist, I offer my apologies, and wish you all- true and false- a very pleasant good evening.”

Who would possibly end a movie with such a flowery sign-off? E-Mail your guesses to famouslastwords@nerve.com. If you need to brush up on the rules of the game, click right here. And remember, all submissions must be received by 11:59 PM Wednesday. Good luck!