Showing posts with label Cinema. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cinema. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Belén Rueda


An actress 'Closer' to my heart...






The famous 'Aquarium scene' worked better than on the movie..



I bought tickets for a Madrid production of Patrick Marber's "Closer" not because I like every Natalie Portman-related event (even if very indirectly...); not because the film was actually quite adult, in a refreshing sort of way; not because theatre made with commitment and heart is always well worth watching - but because I have this thing about yummy Belén... She would be my favourite 40-years old if I would ever indulge a beauty of that age (I'm more of a twenty-something, some people might be tempted to say. Some people just say whenever comes to their mind.)

Monday, January 15, 2007

The Pet Shop Boys

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Battleship Potemkine

Eisenstein's film with a 2005 soundtrack by The Pet Shop Boys

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Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Sergei Eisenstein

The Pet Shop Boys twenty years later....






Last Friday I took Gilda to the Palacio de Deportes to see the legendary The Pet Shop Boys.. The amount and density of non-heterosexual patrons in the venue was staggering... At the most holywood-like almost disco-sound sounding song a passionate kiss just in the row in front of us was a sobering experience... A tiny bald sweetie, with prince of wales red and black trousers, engaged in french-kissing with a bearded thirtysomething with the looks of a bureaucrat in the Internal Revenue Service... But multiculturalism oblige we just avoid eye-contact and try to keep on enjoying the gig..
The use of extremely youthful doppelgangers of the Pets was a a very successful device. Neil Tennant was in top hat and Chris in a yellow parka, subdued and quiet, while two pairs of top hat and yellow parka claded dancers were jumping and breakdancing like mad. Clever way to elude the lost-youth issue...
The projection on the screen of a bit of "The Battleship Potemkine", with soundtrack by the group, was a great moment of irony. Einsenstein would never have thought that his masterpiece of Bolshevique propaganda would be shown in a decadent mass concert, where corridors were saturated with the acrid-sweet smell of marijuana...
Twenty years ago I saw the Pet Shop Boys in London... As a matter of fact, in the Wembley Stadium.. Wait a second, Wembley Stadium does not even exist anymore!.. Oh Dear..
Go West!

Friday, November 17, 2006

Anthony Wedgwood-Benn

The Queen in pre-Revolutionary times...


Helen Mirren's acting talents are mind-boggling...



One of this blogger of yours more striking memories of his half-decade spent in London was, beyond reasonable doubt, a lecture by a lionized Tony Benn. A Labour Party conference fringe meeting or a Quakers-organized lunch, can’t remember. But I do remember the title: “A Case for a British Republic”. Anthony Wedgwood-Benn was the Prince Kropotkin of the British ruling class. Very much a member of the higher echelons of the gentry by birth and schooling, he went on to consistently attack the Crown as an un-democratic stain at the heart of the British political system. On that lecture he warned that the British masses in a revolutionary moment - when the deference wall would have collapsed - would act as sans-culottes, metaphorically parading the heads of the Lords in their spikes.
It didn't turn out that way in the end. The escalating and retaliatory violence of class-war has been kept at bay (and does not infect the British political arrangement) by the tremendous brilliance of a few politicians who understood the risks.. Mrs Thatcher with her “popular capitalism” agenda delayed the Jacobin irruption and Mr Blair, with “New Labour” reforms in fox-hunting and the House of Lords, completed the job.

Why boring the Right Honourable Reader with all this stuff? Well. Let’s call it background reading for an entertaining masterpiece in the political film category. Go and see Stephen Frear's “The Queen” with a Ms. Helen Mirren more real as Lillybeth than that, you die. The “Courtiers” (from Buckingham, St. James’s L.C.O. or Balmoral) and the Sovereign Herself had to be rescued from pre-Bastille troubles by a political leader who showed a remarkable sang-froid. Blair was for a few days the successful Lafayette that Marie Antoinette, helas, never got.

Okay, the Monarchy was never at risk of sudden overthrow but one still has the words of Tony Benn echoing in one’s ears...

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Katsuhiro Otomo

AMV Pussycat Dolls -Beep





I hope the Right Honourable Reader is a youtube.com watcher too..




(Katsuhito Otomo is the creator of Akira, the best example of mainstream Manga)

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Leonor Silveira

Love blogtext...

L.S. ,the unforgetable face in Manoel de Oliveira's "Vale Abraão"


In this week that I have met again (helas! in celuloid only) the cult-actress of Manoel de Oliveira I have to confess an youthful crush for Leonor Silveira. She had the wide-eyed, sweet-smiled and soft-intelligent face of a young aristocratic European circa 1910. I once engaged in social intercourse with her at an obscure little bar in Collares but, being too anxious, I couldn't keep it up. The flame of the conversation, I mean.

Manoel de Oliveira

Self-inflicted Delusions...



To actually meet the Virgin Mary was the main delusional obsession of the lead role (Alfreda) in "O Espelho Mágico", the latest film from 96-years old Manoel de Oliveira. After almost two hours into it, us viewers became restless wanting ourselves to witness the Apparition. Everything is in place, the girl who's going to do the trick (depicted in the picture above) has been briefed, and the semi-comatose Alfreda will surely fall for it.. Then, to our amazement, the screen shows a Muslim woman dressed all in white, tchador included, chanting the pray for Allah.. Stupefaction!.. What is Oliveira trying to convey here? "Has he converted to Islam?" - someone whispers totally baffled. Then follows eight more painfully long minutes of praying women in Sarajevo... And then the film ends abruptly.. All of us, cinephiles who had rushed to Madrid's Filmoteca to see the magical mirror, are in shock.. Only more than five minutes later, when the speculation on the meaning of Oliveira's latest oeuvre was already turning wild, we get the information that there had been some kind of problem with the last film roll. Oh Oliveira, please forget us! Nostra culpa, nostra culpa..

(Everything became clear when one was reminded there was a film about Sarajevo which would be viewed later in the week).


But for a time we actually believed the Old Master of European cinema had lost his marbles... Instead of crying out loud that the King had no clothes left, we, cinephile minions, frantically tried to instill some sense into that irruption of Islam...

It was the type of hyper-contemporary post-modern epiphany that the New York avant-garde would die for...

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Sophia Copolla

Cake is the New Rucola...



An article in Weekend FT (june 3rd) by Susie Boy about how in this Summer - after seeing Sophia Copolla 's latest film ("Marie Antoinette") - we will all find ourselves indulging in multiple-tiered cakes, the current epitome of culinary taste...

Monday, May 08, 2006

Miklos Jancso


A non-Bolshevik Eisenstein-ish look at the Russian Civil war...

The Main Menu of the DVD edition of Miklos Jancso's master-piece...

Forget Pasternak's "Dr. Jivago", either the book itself or the film and TV adaptations (this week NTV (Moscow) is finally broadcasting a Russian version with Oleg Menshikov).. forget Bulgakov's "The White Guard" (book, play, film or TV series).. forget even "Corto Maltese en Sibérie" !(comics book or animation film).. If the Right Honourable Reader wants one forceful insight about Reds against Whites in the Civil War just after 1917 He has only to look for a copy of this unbelievably powerful fim. Miklos Jancso, an Hungarian film-maker with a classic Soviet schooling, gave us the most credible depiction of military logic and of the heroic absurdity of war this blogger of yours has ever seen .

And some of the images are just to die for:

... like the ball-dressed nurses in the forest of "biriosi"..

...or the cossack uniforms in a abandoned monastery...

... or the Bolchevik light brigade charge ...

Friday, May 05, 2006

Julie Christie

"Past is a foreign country, they do things differently there" ..




"Woman and Boy looking at a Book" by foremost American photographer Gertrude Kasebier

Malinka now and then confesses herself lacking in stamina to find the ideal next book to read and asks for my help. Her usual technique is to shout from the library-corridor the name of an interesting looking book. I answer back with carefully chosen two-syllables expressions like "Hmm-Noops!", "Hmmm..Good", "Forgerit", "Tooboring" and "Didnlykit". A couple of weeks ago she shouts "What about The Go Between"?. "Nothing is ever a lady's fault " - I reply. "What?" "Past is a foreign country, they do things differently there" - I insist. She emerges in my room with the paperback in her hands. "I guess it's worth reading, then..". I tell her that the book, by L.P. (Leslie Poles!) Hartley was turned into one of my all-time favourite films.. The colours of long English Summer afternoons.. A simple but unforgettable theme music one tried to play on the out-of-tune piano.. And there were big names involved too.. Joseph Losey,the Cannes-laureate Director... Harold Pinter the Nobel-laureate author of the screen-adaptation... And Julie Christie of course. Julie Christie, to die for, in the main role. "Who is Julie Christie?" - asks Malinka. Who is Julie Christie??? Who was the main votive figure of all my generation's adolescent wet-dreams?.. I try to explain that she was even better that Virginia McKenna or Michelle Pfeiffer or Jacqueline Bisset or Charlotte Rampling, although part of that category of out-of-this-world passion-inspiring beauties when in full cinematic lighting and make-up. She had never heard about her . I tell then to my too young "The Go-Between" prospective reader that I will order the film first thing in the morning, so that she can understand what my awe is all about.

Surprise! There is no DVD edition of the film! Fortunately, when I'm about to resign myself to ressuscitate my VHS video player I spot, among the amazon.co.uk order list, a reference to a second-hand DVD in a cardboard pocket. A vivid e-mail correspondence then follows with a pleasant auctioneer which has for sale a free bonus to a Daily Telegraph week-end edition many years ago . Gerald wants to make sure I understand that it's a freebie and that it's not a video, which is the only format released so far by the producers of the film. I thank him for his gallant concern but I was indeed eager to get a DVD, either bootlegged, downloaded or newspaper bonus, I didn't care.

So I waited for Malinka to finish the book and then.. zzzzwaap! Like a white columbine or a a flower bouquet in the palm of a magician, my DVD cardboard envelope appears in my hand out of nowhere. We proceed to spend a nice couple of hours around the film and our own experiences of Summer manors with posh English accented-aborigines .

Now it's maybe the right time to humbly confess that although I had acquired the book with the firm intention to read it - having loved the glorious film - I had not in fact did it so far. I am now engaged in countering that shameful hole in my reading armour. Having already almost finished that task, I'm most pleased to announce to the Right Honourable Reader that, as it happens time and time again, the novel is immensely more rich than an already enormously satisfactory screen-adaptation.

So, let me act as a Go-Between myself, carrying this time a message from the author to the Right Honourable Reader: please be curious about the most "different" and exotic of all places, the most foreign country of them all - your own Past.

Johnny Depp



Glass in hand...




Mr Depp in the role of Lord Rochester, in "The Libertine"


Will the Righ Honourable Reader be bothered with a rhyme by Rochester that involves Catherine of Braganza, Charles II’s Queen? This blogger of yours is unreservedly grateful…

Legend has that the King and the Wits were discussing to find a word which would rhyme with Lisbon, and our Libertine hero managed, almost in one go, to include Catherine (Kate), Lisbon and his pet hate, Edward Hyde, the Earl of Clarendon (the foremost Minister in Charles’ Council) in a satirical attempt. Rochester proposed:

A health to Kate!
Our Sovereign’s mate,
Of the Royal House of Lisbon
But the devil take Hyde
And the bishop beside
Who make her bone his bone

*

Rochester was of course a drug-addict which brings us to his rock-star type behaviour of quick descent into physical dependency on ever more large doses of drug-intake. His drug was alcohol, still a quite powerful ticket to fast-forward one’s life. Jeremy Lamb’s biography of Rochester deals a lot with alcoholism, to the point of boredom. He stresses though, brilliantly in my view, that much of our Libertine’s whereabouts cannot be separated from the behavioural patterns of an alcoholic. The alternate moods between creative euphoria and self-hating depression, the bursts of violence, both the aphrodisiac and shut-off properties of ethanol, all is very much there.... The film puts it quite well: Rochester always has a glass in hand, a bit like a pro of the diplomatic cocktail circuit (the joke goes that you recognize a diplomat by his arthritis in his right hand.. from holding the ice-cool gin and tonic all his life..) . And the movie puts it quite well too the other major physical affliction of Jay Wilmot: syphilis (fantastic stuff if you want Johnny Depp to have a chance of convincing a forthcoming Oscar jury about his acting performance). http://www.hollywoodjesus.com/movie/libertine/notes.pdf

What we don’t have is a burned-out finale (like Kurt Cobain, Brian Jones or Jim Morrison). He does not OD but has, instead, a rather “silent majority” moralistic end. In his death-bed he turns from atheist into a Catholic, his wife and kids are all around him and he does repent and apologize for his sinful life.. That somewhat surprising decision rises an interesting point: if the impairment of judgement that can be ascribed to a tertiary syphilis brain coupled with all the pathological effects of chronic alcoholism is invoked to justify (that is, attempt at nullify) his bad behaviour, shouldn’t one doubt the mental sanity of his last minute conversion, too?

In any case, it might be interesting to remember that the alter ego of Rochester in Etherege’s play, I mean Dorimant, is not himself a thoroughly radical Don Juan figure. He does not have to face the Commendatore and end up in Hell ( soundtrack by Wolgan Amadeus M.) after repeatedly refusing to repent. Besides, Dorimant and Rochester proper also do not quite carry their utterly ruthless delight in controlling others to the sadistic heights of Valmont or the Marquise de Merteuil. We have here in fact a hybrid. The “rake reformed” pattern plus a “D.Juan”-like biopic. ( For Portuguese consumers only: there is an pious highly-moral equivalent to this hybrid pattern in the figure of Jose Maria Barbosa du Bocage, a XVIII century poet, who also begun as a libertine, a sceptical and a pornographer and ended up conformed and comforted with the Church’s last ointments).



What must surely be stressed in the end is the brilliant quality of Rochester’s writings and the scintillating English of the Restoration play-writers ( Etherege, Wycherley, Dryden, Thomas Otway, the Howards and a few others). Full justice to the supreme wit of their dialogue was done by Stepphen Jeffreys in his modern play (and script). His is a tour de force of bringing to our attention the exceptional life and times of John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Giaccomo Casanova

An Hero for Our Times?

The latest movie product of Casanova Industries Inc. ..

The latest film starring Casanova, by Lasse Hallstrom, was another attempt at convincing us that if only Giaccomo had been able to pursue his supposed true love his polygamous serial infidelity would have ended. In the most recent BBC series it was Henriette who could have performed that miraculous rehabilitation of Casanova, in this film the therapeutic role belongs to a Francesa Bruni, a hyper-clever feminist with good looks (a kind of XVIII century Naomi Wolfe). Does that do justice to the "historical" Casanova, the one we know from his "Histoire de Ma Vie"? It does not really matter. The more "approaches", the more twisted angles that serve as pretexts to re-visit the archetype of the Free Man, the better. He is the true scapegoat of our times. According to many, if divorces figures are what they are, if men prefer pollinating to committing, if seduction has such a luciferous fame - it all comes to the unrestrained anti-social pleasure-seeking Casanovesque behaviour of most men when left to fend for themselves in the real sexual world. So, one as to turn him either into a pathetic figure (like Fellini has done, possibly out of Middle-Italy envy for Venetians) or into a morally-acceptable flawed character capable of redemption if only... Enjoy.

Guy Fawkes

A Neo-Machiavelian Neo-Leninist with a fancy mask..


"V for Vendetta", a movie which is trash with a twist...
The Right Honourable Reader will have to excuse this blogger of yours who has been a bit lazy lately. Instead of a full text about "V for Vendetta" I'd rather settle for a quick list of points for further speculation:
- Demonizing Guy Fawkes is part of the anti-Catholic ideological foundation of the modern (post-Henri VIII) English/British State. In constitutional terms the King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland cannot be a Roman Catholic. What are the religious views of our political leaders is, in most of our countries, politically irrelevant, but in Britain whenever a public figure is suspected of converting to the RC Church there's a kind of juicy voyeurism attached. ( Most recent examples: was Diana, the Princess of Wales, about to convert? Is Tony Blair attending Catholic Mass?). Ironic then that the hero of the political liberation of Britain from dictatorship - in the film and in the graphic novel it's based upon - is none other than a Guy Fawkes figure.
- Ironic too that one has to blow the Houses of Parliament, the symbol of the sovereignty of the People, in order to regain that same sovereignty. (Fantastic special effects' scene and almost worth the trip to the local cinema) . The original "Papist" plot was to kill the political targets expected to be in the Parliament building while here we have it as a kind of fun fair pyrotechnics to thank the masses for attending the meeting (like in the closing events of marketing-saturated electoral campaigns). Does not make sense.

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Francisco Goya

Unsuccessful Copycat...


The stage was all set for the Awards, we just had a couple of hours to wait....


Although slightly hangovered after a night dedicated to erasing from his brain the Reds' defeat against the Greens, this blogger of yours went to the Goyas gala out of a sense of duty towards the Honourable Reader.

The invitations mentioned 8.oo PM, and out of Old Europe punctuality Behemotchka and I were there at eight alright. We were then told that in fact the live-on-TV ceremony was about to begin at Ten!. With sub-zero temperatures outside, a congress hall in the middle of f"&%$& nowhere and no bar functioning inside the hall, one can be excused for this urge to trash the Goyas night comprehensively.

It felt like the Moscow Film Festival.. the same provincial trying-too-hard to mimic the Oscars attitude. The same evening dresses in cheap materials and the sad petty bourgeois atmosphere of Hola! readers or BigBrother fans. Pity, really, because the Spanish cinema is in quite good shape and they have a real industry going on here. If only they could relax on the Frenchy-inspired sniping at the Hollywood model in the name of culturally exceptional European cinema (while at the same time bursting with pride at the Hollywood careers of Antonio and Penelope or Paz). If only they could have found the inspiration to serve us a b*&$%! drink while there's still one and a half hours to go and it's snowing outside!

A feature of these events I still cannot grasp is the astronomic cost of prime time advertising on the TV channel broadcasting the show ( almost as expensive per minute as airplane gasoline) while at the same time large periods, full five to eight minutes, are wasted by presenters in hastily scripted supposedly entertaining lines in between "and the winner is" moments. I guess the edited pre-recorded version might work but live the logistical hiccups and slow-mo boring stuff (including self-congratulatory corporative speeches) is unbearable.

We left after the first block of awards, longing for the boletus I had left marinating in cognac.. The snow-covered suburb was indeed awesome to watch..

The only bright exception to an otherwise disastrous Sunday evening was the daring pink dress of the Lady Minister for Culture, from Agatha Ruiz de La Prada..



Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Gwyneth Paltrow

Playin' the paparazzi..


Ms Paltrow staring at her own private Rock God
at the November, 22 concert of Coldplay in Madrid

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Jean-Luc Godard

BB at her Best...
When one has hundreds of TV digital channels at home, like this blogger of yours, sometimes there are unexpected jewels that erupt during the zombiesque zapping.
Brigitte Bardot in "Contempt" by Jean-Luc Godard was quite a surprise. What a wham! A 1963 film that goes straight to the soul of 2005 viewers.
With Michel Piccoli and Jack Palance, and with a superb hyper-modern management of architectural and landscape spaces, including the sea at Capri, I thoroughly recommend it to the Honourable Reader.


Read more about it at http://www.brightlightsfilm.com/20/20_contempt.html


Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Richard Linklater


"Before Sunrise" cloning...


BeforeDawn Girls (Juliet D. and Margarida V.) Posted by Picasa


Remember what Richard Linklater's "Before Sunrise" did to Vienna? Well, a young company from the country of this blogger of yours has tried to do something similar to Lisbon.

As we blog, a theatrical adaptation (by Pedro Neschling) of Linklater's script is being performed in an almost seedy theatre at a non-glamorous neighbourhood of Lisbon. The main female character, our home-grown Juliet Delphy, is Ms. Margarida Vila-Nova, a pretty face of soap-operatic success.

In the current re-incarnation she is called Inês, is waiting for the Lisbon to Paris train, and she's a daughter of a diplomat ( ironic, no?). The leftwing leanings of Ms Delphy's original character are now translated into remarks against "fascism" in pre-74 Portugal (not impressed).

I recall that in the film the male character (played by Ethan Hawke) at some point suggested an idea for a TV series, where 365 people would be watched for one day each, in a one year long program.

What if every city in the world that considers itself of Vienna rank decides to adapt Linklater's script to the stage?

Well, this time it quite worked well for Lisbon.

Maybe "Lonely Planet" or "Time Out" will wish to produce something like that?

Obvious choices? Seville, Moscow, Rome, perhaps? The Honourable Reader might care to go on...

Cédric Kaplisch

The "Matrioshka Factor" in one's lovelife...


"Russian Dolls" Posted by Picasa


Took my little tribe, kicking and screaming as usual when a French-spoken film is concerned, to "Les Poupées Russes". This film from Cédric Kaplisch is the "some years later" sequel to "L'Auberge Espagnole". Young Europeans and their Europe-wide relationships, that's the main thing. Some of us from more open-to-the-outside-world peripheral countries without dubbing in home television, inter-rail fans or summer beach girls-chasers have been there for quite some time. Now, after Erasmus exchanges, it is becoming the norm. We all have friends now that are not from our safe mono-lingual neighbourhood.
That cosmopolitanism, and its corollary, I mean, speaking many languages and not just your own, has been typical of the cultivated elites in Europe for centuries (particularly among the aristocratic class). What is relatively new, and indeed revolutionary, is that it's becoming a mass phenomenon.
Apart from that, "Russian Dolls" worked for me in two other aspects. One, the attitude of the Russian bride towards his totally drunk groom on the wedding party. She laughed and was tender and understanding. (Most non-Russian young newly-weds would go straight to tragedy mode and make things worst. Learn with the Russian Dolls, babies!).
Two, the philosophical concept of the film, as stated in the end by the main actor. A guy has many experiences, girl after girl, just like the successive "matrioshkas" one plays with, until you get to the final one. But, I would enigmatically ask the Honourable Reader to consider, what if the last Matrioshka is a Russian doll indeed?

Monday, October 17, 2005

Whit Stillman

"Urban Haute Bourgeoisie" in Manhattan et al ...



literature about literary film language Posted by Picasa


What is a blog for if not to be able to convey the respective blogger's idiosyncrasies? I'm unashamedly an Art movie type of cinema goer and I prefer an intelligent and complex dialogue (or an adaptation of Jane Austen's superb language) to any special effects, no matter how hyper-pyrotechnic they might be. The best and most efficient "literary dialogue" that has been script-written in the US in recent years belongs, in my view, to Mr Whit Stillman, who happens to direct himself those priceless jewels.

"Metropolitan" (1990), "Barcelona" (1994) and "The Last Days of Disco" (1998) have gathered such a recognition as something simultaneously fresh and classical in American cinema that a collection of critical essays on these films have recently been published. Entitled "Doomed. Bourgeois. In Love ", using the self-definition of the characters in "Metropolitan" , and edited by Mr Mark C. Henrie, it's a must-read for Stillman groupies like myself.

As Henrie points out: " Democratic and meritocratic America has never had much time for gentility, and radical ideologies in principle despise the well-born. For these reasons, the gentlefolk tend to appear in our popular art either as villains or as fools. But Stillman's films insist that there were (and are) true virtues to be found in this class and its ideals."

If the Honourable Reader might feel sometimes tempted to indulge in Anti-Americanism from a supposedly Cultural High Ground position, sniping at provincial and child-like Americans, this little book and in particular the viewing of Stillman's films will cure you of that infantile disease.