Suchergebnisse

Rachel Carson's 1962 Silent Spring exposed both observed and potential environmental and health externalities of the increasing organochlorine and organophosphate insecticide use in the United States post-World War II. Silent Spring was a critical component in a popular movement that resulted in increased regulation and the development of safer pesticides. Most changes in pesticide use in the global north have involved pesticide substitutions, although riskier pesticides remain in use. Many ideas in Silent Spring are compatible with the theory of integrated pest management (IPM), and IPM has been broadly embraced in the United States and internationally as a strategy for achieving least-use and/or least-risk pesticide use in agriculture. IPM is a politically feasible policy that purports to reduce pesticide use and/or risk in agriculture but often does not, except in extreme cases of pesticide overuse that result in negative agricultural/economic consequences for growers. ©2014 by Annual Reviews. All rights reserved.

Abstract
Spy films produced during the Cold War and the immediate post-Cold War era in Mainland China reflect a heightened anxiety of national security and serve primarily as political propaganda. This article examines the changing cultural context of post-socialist China and the transformation of the spy film genre in contemporary Chinese cinema in the age of globalization and transnationalism. Looking specifically at three recently released films, Ang Lee's Se jie/Lust, Caution (2007), Chen Guofu and Gao Qunshu's Fengsheng/The Message (2009) and Alan Mak and Felix Chong's Ting feng zhe/The Silent War (2012), this article examines the centrality of body narrative to the cinematic reconfiguration of the spy genre in contemporary Chinese cinema. It argues that the recently emerged spy films demonstrate special interests in the body's dual role in cinema – as both an image that invites the embodied spectator to engage with it and a site where multiple discourses of nationhood, sexuality and individual identity intersect to reveal the transnational imagination and reconfiguration of the spy figure, whose identity can no longer be defined by an absolute dichotomy between mind and body, between exteriority and interiority, but by the constant tension generated from the inseparability between the mind's rationality and the body's corporeality.

The transition to market economy and the dismantling of the USSR created an unprecedented crisis in Russian film industry. The awesome All Union Ministry of Cinematography (Goskino) was dismembered. This almost paramilitary institution, whose senior officials were also allegedly senior KGB officers, directed, or rather policed, the Soviet film production process with the stick of censorship, and the carrot of lucrative awards. Understandably, the censorship is not going to be sorely missed. What is missed, however, are the generous state budgets and the firm general line, drawn by the military from the Ministry, in accordance with the ever-changing Kremlin ideological vision. Distribution-wise the situation in Russian cinema followed the pattern characteristic for the other post-communist countries. American films, kept for so long beyond the ideological pale, took over the repertoire, occupying around 75% of the programming time, with a tendency to reach 85% during the next decade. In the Russian.

Esse artigo discute a relação entre a percepção e a experiência do espaço produzido por dois meios de representação: cinema e arquitetura. No contexto da construção de uma "geografia da imagem em movimento", é apresentada uma breve análise da representação do espaço urbano no filme brasileiro Redentor (Cláudio Torres, 2004).

This book looks closely at films by the most renowned directors of contemporary Chinese art cinema: Hou Hsiao-hsien, Tsai Ming-liang and Wong Kar-wai. It argues that these directors have collectively authored a distinct cinema of time across the realms of national and transnational film culture

Abstract
How do you get people interested in something they know nothing about? Something old, forgotten—and in black and white with subtitles? 'Taiwan's Lost Commercial Cinema: Recovered and Restored' is a project to screen old Taiwanese-language films (taiyupian), mostly from the 1960s, in Europe. It was a learning experience in working with Taiwanese culture in Europe. This report is my effort to reflect on that experience and I try to answer two questions. First, what is so interesting about these films? Second, why was it so difficult to make the initial breakthrough and what made it possible in the end? There are many different elements at play. But I have come to understand that the environment for screening alternative, archive, and art films has changed over the decades to create both new problems and new possibilities, among which the potential for universities to be cultural incubators has been crucial.