Piel de gallina (CINE)
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el 4 de enero se estrena en españa MADE IN BRITAIN. Un Film de Shaene Medows sobre la cultura skinhead. Yo he visto cachos de la peli en inglés y parece super interesante. La historia trata sobre un niño de 12 años que se hace skin en el Londres de los 70. Estetica y culturamente la peli tiene un diez. Esta super bien ambientada y la BSO es de música skinhead 100%. Para los que no conozcáis el movimiento skinhead es una buena forma de conocerlo y para los que lo conozcáis podréis juzgar por vosotros mismos.
En mi myspace hay un trailer de la peli!
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Esa peli la comentamos hace tiempo, a mi me gustó mucho.
La de Dylan también me ha encantado. Ahora llega época de peliculones, que ganas de la de los Coen, la de P.T. Anderson y la de Wes Anderson que se estrena la semana que viene.
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@Sr.:
el 4 de enero se estrena en españa MADE IN BRITAIN. Un Film de Shaene Medows sobre la cultura skinhead. Yo he visto cachos de la peli en inglés y parece super interesante. La historia trata sobre un niño de 12 años que se hace skin en el Londres de los 70. Estetica y culturamente la peli tiene un diez. Esta super bien ambientada y la BSO es de música skinhead 100%. Para los que no conozcáis el movimiento skinhead es una buena forma de conocerlo y para los que lo conozcáis podréis juzgar por vosotros mismos.
En mi myspace hay un trailer de la peli!
He entrado en tu myspace, pero como tampoco los domino no he encontrado el trailer de la peli, pero por lo que hablas me recuerda a una peli de la que ya se ha hablado aquí, "This is England"… que al menos a mi me gustó bastante porque refleja el movimiento skin y como se va adentrando un niño en el.
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El Domingo vimos El Bosque del Luto (2007)
de Naomi Kawase.Nos pareció una película preciosa.
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Ayer vi en el cine Promesas del Este, no te extrañe Bluemoon que siga en cartelera, en Madrid las peliculas duran la tira de tiempo en cartelera. El cine en Madrid no esta sujeto a la angustia genaralizada de los conciertos. Menudo estress lo de las entradas para los conciertos. Un peliculon. Rusia en el cambio de regimen, sufrio un corrupcion que pasara a la historia de la humanidad. Se adjudicaron los recursos del pais a dedo la elite del Partido. Y bajo este negocio sucio, nacio una de las mafias mas terrorificas que asola Europa. Como actuan ahora es retratado de manera brillante por un Cronerberg en estado de gracia. Apoyado por un Viggo impresionante.
No es de extrañar que Occidente tolere (toma ya los juegos olimpicos) el regimen totalitario comunista chino. El otro dia el Embajador de España en China que ha escrito un libro sobre la china actual. Comentaba que el propio regimen busca una transicion lenta. Y que querian tomar como modelo el capitalismo humanista sueco. La burguesia china cada dia toma mas poder, y cuando lo quiera todo, tienen que estar preparados. Minetras tanto a seguir machacando a periodistas, budistas o jovenes con ideales peligrosos. Que se cueza poco a poco la burguesia, por si occidente no quiere una gran mafia china armada en sus tierras. Por no hablar del desajuste economico a todo los niveles.
Por cierto, ¿Fidel Castro esta muerto.?, a mi me da que si.
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El finde fuímos a ver Deseo, peligro (premio al peor título en español del año), lo más apetecible de la asfixiante cartelera de mi localidad. Resultó un bluff no por previsible menos espectacular. Que se venda este insulso y mediocre producto para el mercado de masas occidental como una muestra de cine oriental de calidad es una perversidad del mercado.
Creo que próximamente lo intentaremos con Soy leyenda, ciudades desiertas, apocalipsis, zombis y tal. Esperemos que se parezca poco a las 28 semanas después del tal Pringadillo.
En la tele vi Atrapado en el tiempo, que aparte del título en español sigue siendo un peliculón, y L'enfant, de los Dardenne, que me pareció la más atractiva e inmediata de las suyas pero también la más lígera y (peligrosamente cerca de parecer) loachiana. Al menos te trata como un adulto. Si ése fuera el punto de partida y ejemplo para un nuevo cine europeo ya me daría con un canto en los dientes.
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@Chiappucci:crtnyz94:
En la tele vi Atrapado en el tiempo, que aparte del título en español sigue siendo un peliculón.
Me atrevo a decir que si no es la mejor comedia de los 90, esta entre las 3 primeras. La primera hora de esa pelicula es absolutamente antologica.
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Para fans de Wes Anderson y como preludio al estreno de la inminente The Darjeeling Limited, aquí esta lista:
10 Films That Couldn't Have Happened Without Wes Anderson
1. Napoleon Dynamite (2004)
In spite of his status as one of the few directors who's often a bigger draw than the actors in his films, Wes Anderson has never really made a major commercial hit. The closest he's come is Napoleon Dynamite, a pale imitation of Anderson's most obvious mannerisms, co-written and directed by Jared Hess. While Anderson is generally sympathetic to the oddball characters inhabiting his films, Napoleon Dynamite suggests that audiences prefer filmmakers to hold eccentrics at arm's length; it's easier to mock them and feel the warm, uplifting surge of superiority that way. Also, wouldn't it just be hilarious if the hopelessly nerdy main character did a really wacky dance at the end? Let's see Anderson top that with a wistful Faces song!
2. The Squid And The Whale (2005)
Squid And The WhaleA friendship with Anderson helped convince Noah Baumbach to return to the director's chair for this corrosive comedy about the confluence of divorce and adolescence in a family of academics. And while Baumbach clearly shares a set of influences with Anderson—including Louis Malle, Whit Stillman, and Martin Scorsese—he takes them in a more realistic direction, eschewing theatrical distance in favor of raw-nerve immediacy. The two directors most resemble each other in their use of music: Baumbach's jumble of Loudon Wainwright, Pink Floyd, Bert Jansch, and Lou Reed on the Squid And The Whale soundtrack is as counterintuitive as anything in an Anderson film, yet it works just as swimmingly.
3. Garden State (2004)
Garden StateIn his 2004 directorial debut, Garden State, Zach Braff perfectly cast himself as a stock Anderson character: a self-absorbed man-child who returns home for his mother's funeral after an extended estrangement. Natalie Portman's odiously self-conscious quirky girl "saves" him from being so darn sad all the time; she also seems like a character thankfully axed from an early draft of a Wes Anderson screenplay. As a director, Braff took another cue from Anderson by populating his soundtrack with fashionable indie and classic rock songs—his expert use of Simon & Garfunkel's "The Only Living Boy In New York" as a backdrop for his first kiss with Portman might have even made Anderson jealous.
4. Tadpole (2002)
TadpoleWes Anderson's influence officially reached a nadir with 2002's Tadpole, a hideously ugly low-budget digital-video festival favorite that scored big at Sundance, only to bomb during its theatrical run. Essentially a labored sitcom version of Rushmore further hobbled by cable-access production values, Gary Winick's exhaustingly self-infatuated festival of twee centers on a precocious self-styled 15-year-old-intellectual (Aaron Stanford) whose laughable pretensions (he reads Voltaire! And finds women his own age hopelessly immature!) inexplicably render him irresistible to beautiful women old enough to be his grandmother. Tadpole is everything Anderson's detractors accuse him of being: smug, self-infatuated, utterly divorced from reality, and hopelessly in love with the sound of its own voice.
5. Little Miss Sunshine (2006)
Little Miss SunshineAt the heart of many of Anderson's movies lies a fascination with family values of a much different sort than those espoused by conservative politicians. Like The Royal Tenenbaums, The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, and The Darjeeling Limited, Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris' wry comedy-drama Little Miss Sunshine is essentially about a broken family made whole through shared experiences and/or a lengthy trip on a claustrophobic vessel. (In Aquatic's case, a sub; here, a van.) While Sunshine's climax is ultimately broader than anything in Anderson's filmography, that just illustrates how diverse Anderson's influence has been: As with so many influential filmmakers, acolytes pick and choose what they like from his instantly recognizable aesthetic and disregard everything else.
6. Igby Goes Down (2002)
Igby Goes DownLike Tadpole, another self-conscious quirkfest about an unlikeable young man inexplicably irresistible to older women, Burr Steer's Igby Goes Down initially seems to borrow all the wrong things from Anderson's oeuvre. But as Kieran Culkin's prep-school brat gets humanized by a gauntlet of abuse, the film's smug airlessness gives way to more humane emotions. Like so much of Anderson's work, Igby is haunted by the spectral presence of J.D. Salinger, literature's premier poet of highbrow teen angst, and it captures, albeit intermittently, the heightened, easily bruised emotions that characterize adolescence for so many.
7. Rocket Science (2007)
Rocket ScienceSometimes, indie films rip off Anderson's work wholesale; at other times, they have the familiar texture of his movies while heading off in different directions. Though Jeffrey Blitz's semi-autobiographical debut feature—a follow-up to his hit documentary Spellbound—has its own particularities and a greater commitment to realism than Anderson's work, it applies his stylistic template. The use of music, especially, connects Blitz to Anderson, from the repeated refrains of Violent Femmes' "Blister In The Sun" (including a version for cello and piano) to the mopey Eef Barzelay tunes that underscore the entire movie like the David Bowie songs in The Life Aquatic. Unsurprisingly, Blitz's stabs at Anderson-like whimsy are the film's weakest element; when he gets real and deals directly with a stutterer's coming of age, the film stakes out more original territory.
8. Charlie Bartlett (2007)
Charlie BartlettLet's see: Creative kid given to formalwear gets kicked out of private school, initially looks like a misfit in public school, and eventually wins over the student body without modifying his eccentricities one iota. Sound a little familiar? Yet the Charlie Bartlett, one of several Son-Of-Wes films on the way (in this case, after a none-too-promising delay in its initial release date), is a lesson in the many ways Rushmore could have gone wrong. Rushmore protagonist Max Fischer hides a genuine vulnerability behind his grand, infectious creative vision, though it's exposed when his misplaced puppy-love for a teacher goes awry. In contrast, the blueblood troublemaker in Charlie Bartlett seems thoughtless and mechanical in his rebellion, though he has a father in jail for tax evasion and a mother wound tight as piano wire. He's a shifty little weirdo with a mirthless grin plastered on his face; never once does he suggest the charisma that would lead his classmates to conform to him, rather than the other way around.
9. Juno (2007)
JunoThe snappy, sardonic dialogue in this upcoming high-school indie-quirkfest has more in common with Ghost World and Heathers than Rushmore, but director Jason Reitman leans heavy on Anderson's character-definition-through-costuming method—particularly when it comes to Michael Cera, the accidental father who spends most of Juno in a track uniform, complete with headband. Throw in Cera's habit of pounding down orange Tic-Tacs, and he adds up to a character who's nearly all fidget: a cartoon in the shape of a person.
10. Son Of Rambow (2007)
Son Of RambowA hit at Sundance, Garth Jennings' follow-up to his Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy adaptation adds a dash of Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Amélie) to several heaping cups of Anderson's Rushmore. Nothing much is done to obscure the similarities between the two movies: Both follow precocious kids as they attempt to reproduce a cinema classic (or what they believe to be a cinema classic, anyway). In Rushmore, it's Serpico and Heaven & Earth (and for the MTV Movie Awards, Armageddon, Out Of Sight, and The Truman Show); in Son Of Rambow, it's the Sylvester Stallone vehicle Rambo: First Blood Part II. In Rambow, the making of a movie forges an unlikely partnership between the school bully and a wimpy outcast from a dogmatic Christian family. This sort of preciousness treads a fine line, which here crosses into the full-on, gag-test whimsy that Anderson so studiously avoids.
Y el reverso
16 Films Without Which Wes Anderson Couldn't Have Happened
1. The Graduate (1967)
Perhaps the most important touchstone in the career of director Wes Anderson, Mike Nichols' seminal comedy of disaffected youth echoes through all five of his features—for its groundbreaking use of pop songs on the soundtrack, for its impeccable widescreen compositions, and for its tale of a young man of privilege crippled by uncertainty and melancholy. Take your pick of direct influences: The May-September dynamic between an unformed kid and a much older woman (Rushmore), the wall-to-wall music by a single composer (Paul Simon here, David Bowie in The Life Aquatic), the stalled lives of young adults who move back in with their parents for the indefinite future (The Royal Tenenbaums). And in the end, a satisfying resolution that isn't quite a happy ending.
2. Paper Moon (1973)
Anderson has a weakness for movies involving precocious young people, child-like adults, and overtly retro stylization. In that respect, his films echo Peter Bogdanovich's Paper Moon, a black-and-white hit about a lascivious con man (Ryan O'Neal) who hits the road with a pint-sized prodigy (his real-life daughter Tatum O'Neal) and begins separating suckers from their hard-earned scratch. Like Anderson, Bogdanovich in his prime had such complete control over mise en scene and such a strong sense of production design (thanks in no small part to his ex-wife and production designer Polly Platt) that his films became hermetic little worlds. (Years later, Platt served as a producer on Bottle Rocket.)
3. Harold And Maude (1971)
Cat Stevens' "The Wind" pops up in Rushmore as another example of the film's excellent use of songs from the '60s and '70s. It's also a tip of the hat to Hal Ashby's cult classic Harold And Maude. In H&M, Stevens' songs accompany the coming of age of Harold (Bud Cort), a death-obsessed teen who comes to a better understanding of life by interacting with an older generation. (Though Jason Schwartzman's relationships with Bill Murray and Olivia Williams remain much more chaste than Harold's affair with his 79-year-old friend Maude, played by Ruth Gordon.)
4. Brewster McCloud (1970)
Cort has the sad, slightly blank face of a lost Wilson brother, and his role in Robert Altman's Brewster McCloud foreshadows Anderson's obsessive heroes. Here, Cort plays a kid fiercely dedicating to flying inside the then-new Astrodome, and exhibiting the unflappable tenacity Owen Wilson brings to his doomed heists in Bottle Rocket. (Almost inevitably, Cort found his way into one of Anderson's films, playing a nervous accountant in The Life Aquatic.)
5. Sullivan's Travels (1941)
Life has a way of making obsessions seem wrongheaded, however. In Preston Sturges' comedy Sullivan's Travels, Joel McCrea plays a Hollywood comedy director intent on making a picture of great social significance called O Brother, Where Art Thou? Disguising himself as a hobo, he sets out to get the real-world experience he thinks he'll need to make the movie, only to be taken aback by what he finds. Like many of Anderson's characters, he discovers the world is simultaneously more perilous and kinder than he'd imagined.
6. The World Of Henry Orient (1964)
What is Rushmore but a coming-of-age story, in which a precocious teen learns to put his preoccupations to better use? There've been few better coming-of-age movies than The World Of Henry Orient, in which two 14-year-old New York girls stalk concert pianist Peter Sellers. The girls—played by Tippy Walker and Merrie Spaeth—are like Jim Henson's Tenenbaum Babies, flashing comically grave expressions while they share their boundless imaginations and adolescent obsessions. Just as Anderson's characters come off like juvenile-fiction heroes in an adult-fiction world, so the teenagers in The World Of Henry Orient have their idyllic friendship ruptured by the repercussions of divorce and the looming specter of sex. The movie's exterior is soft, but there's a familiar soreness at the center.
7. The River (1951)
Acknowledged by Anderson as the most significant influence on The Darjeeling Limited, Jean Renoir's first color film is as bracing in its way as the transition from black-and-white to Technicolor in The Wizard Of Oz. Shot entirely on location in India, the film could be called a colonialist's view of the country, but Renoir isn't indulging in exoticism for its own sake; on the contrary, he comes from a position of respect and deep curiosity for its cultural traditions. Though Anderson's film is about travel, while Renoir's remains more or less stationary, both come from a distinctly Western vantage, and neither feigns any expertise about understanding a radically different culture. The characters in The River and The Darjeeling Limited are going through a painful time—in the former, three teenage girls come of age; in the latter, three brothers deal with their father's death, their mutual estrangement, and various personal crises—yet the country transforms them and heals them, and gives them passage to the next phase in their lives.
8. Bande À Part (Band Of Outsiders) (1964)
Jean-Luc Godard's enormously influential Bande À Part has had a strong influence on countless filmmakers, many of who have paid reverent homage to its famously spontaneous dance sequence. But other elements cast a heavy shadow over Anderson's 1996 debut, Bottle Rocket, another unexpectedly bittersweet crime comedy about charming young people playing at being outlaws, none too convincingly. The films share a youthful playfulness that coexists surprisingly smoothly with undertones of melancholy and loss.
9. A Boy Named Charlie Brown (1969)
Anderson's use of "Christmas Time Is Here" on the Royal Tenenbaums soundtrack isn't the only indication of his Charles Schulz fetish. The "uniforms" he outfits his characters in are like a variation on Charlie Brown's zigzag shirt and Lucy's blue dress, and there's an atmosphere of wistful melancholy common to Peanuts cartoons and Anderson's seriocomedies. A Boy Named Charlie Brown echoes Anderson's persistent "sic transit gloria" theme, as Charlie Brown blazes through the rounds of a local spelling bee, then washes out at the nationals. When he returns home to a group of friends who accept him as much as they mock him, he might as well be walking in slow motion, while "Ooh La La" plays on the soundtrack.
10. Stolen Kisses (1968)
Anderson's protagonists frequently suspect that the world runs according to a rule sheet they've never been given, a trait they share with François Truffaut's Antoine Doinel. Played by Jean-Pierre Léaud in four and a half films, beginning with 1959's The 400 Blows and concluding with Love On The Run 20 years later, Doinel fumbles his way through a series of jobs and a disorderly love life in Stolen Kisses, usually two steps behind everyone else. But the distance gives him perspective while lending Truffaut's film a wistful, wise tone that Anderson—who's never been shy about citing Truffaut as a profound influence—frequently reprises.
11. Big Deal On Madonna Street (1958)
Though it lacks Bottle Rocket's whimsy, Mario Monicelli's classic parody similarly turns the heist picture on its head, following a band of inept criminals as they botch a big score. Like Owen Wilson's Dignan and the gang, the stars of Big Deal are big-hearted dreamers who aren't really cut out for criminality, which doesn't stop them from trying. Their can't-miss scheme involves breaking into a vacant apartment next to a pawn shop on Madonna Street; once inside, they can easily tear down the thin wall separating the two, and access the unprotected safe on the other side. It sounds simple, but the only expert in their sphere is a retired safecracker who isn't around for the job, and the others include a boxer with a glass jaw and a hot-tempered Sicilian preoccupied with protecting his sister's virtue. They're a loveable bunch of guys—both here and in Palookaville, a skillful indie remake from 1995—but they definitely aren't cut out for this sort of work.
12. Local Hero (1983)
Anderson's films often center on depressive characters in the midst of emotional crises: think Bill Murray in Rushmore and The Life Aquatic, or Luke and Owen Wilson in The Royal Tenenbaums. In Bill Forsyth's beloved cult comedy Local Hero, businessman Peter Riegert bounces back from a serious case of the blahs by traveling, at his employer' behest, to a lovely Scottish village touched with magic and wonder. But Riegert's blues pale in comparison with those of boss Burt Lancaster, a cantankerous old tycoon who becomes infected with the Scottish village's sense of joy while fleeing his bullying psychiatrist. Thankfully, the sad-sacks in Anderson and Forsyth's films are lucky enough to exist in a world brought to vivid, though quaint, life by supremely humane creators whose films radiate compassion for their troubled characters.
13. The King Of Comedy (1983)
Martin Scorsese has been a vocal Anderson supporter from the start, recognizing a kindred spirit. And while nothing in Anderson's work suggests the rawness of Mean Streets or Raging Bull, both directors have an interest in overt theatricality of the Max Ophüls/Michael Powell variety. The King Of Comedy balances Scorsese's theatrical flourishes and his neo-realist side in an Anderson-like way, and Robert De Niro's portrayal of the fame-hungry Rupert Pupkin recalls Jason Schwartzman's Max Fischer in Rushmore and Bill Murray's Steve Zissou in The Life Aquatic, in that they're all dangerously deluded and impossible to deter.
14. Metropolitan (1990)
The cult popularity of Whit Stillman's debut feature showed indie-film financiers that movies about effete, erudite young adults with obscure concerns could find an audience. Metropolitan also fits into the mosaic of New York movies that informed The Royal Tenenbaums, both in its sketch of a class-splintered dream-city, and in its story of a golden age too quickly tarnished by human vanity. Give the debutantes and escorts of Metropolitan a few years, and they might well be puttering around their apartments in their old clothes, seething over what went wrong.
15. A Thousand Clowns (1965)
Since J.D. Salinger hasn't allowed any of his work to be adapted to the screen, writers and directors have had to find ways to sneak some Salinger in through the back door, via situations, dialogue, and overall attitudes that smack of the prickly cult author. Anderson's early films have a decidedly Salinger-esque tone—the brother-sister relationship in Bottle Rocket is very Holden-Phoebe—as does Herb Gardner's play and screenplay A Thousand Clowns, which shadows Salinger's iconoclastic idealism. Jason Robards plays a reluctant TV writer who'd prefer to spend his days showing his nephew how to live splendidly as a New York slacker. But if he doesn't buckle down and get a steady job, Robards is going to lose his right to raise the child the way he likes. There's a bit of Steve Zissou—and Holden Caulfield—in Robards' disgust with mediocrity, as well as in his drive to pursue his whims, however impractical.
16. Murmur Of The Heart (1971)
Throughout his career, Anderson has been peppered with accusations of cultural insensitivity and suggestions that he glamorizes upper-class privilege, but those traits may be better ascribed to his characters. A lot of Anderson heroes are like Murmur Of The Heart's provincial teenager Benoît Ferreux, who copes with the stresses of growing up by taking full advantage of what wealth allows, and—in a shocking climactic act—leveraging his boyish insecurity into a literal return to the womb. Like Anderson, director Louis Malle makes his self-absorbed hero strangely agreeable, by presenting his arrogance with a light dollop of nostalgia.
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@Chiappucci:39692b2p:
fuímos a ver Deseo, peligro …Resultó un bluff no por previsible menos espectacular.
Que se venda este insulso y mediocre producto para el mercado de masas
occidental como una muestra de cine oriental de calidad es una perversidad
del mercado.Precisamente lo que más molesta de Ang Lee a los Esclavos de las tendencias
es su capacidad de filmar de manera impecable y a la vez tener éxito de público.Su nueva película es de una manufactura incontestable. Sin estridencias, sin
cámara en mano con síndrome de parkinson, sin un montaje que reste
protagonismo a la historia, sin trampas en el guión.Este director ha llegado a un grado de maestría elevado, proporcional a la
frustración que generan sus impecables trabajos en los críticos más snobs .En definitiva, para quienes el lenguaje fílmico no se basa únicamente en una
historia que enganche, Deseo, Peligro (2007) es un placer.
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Hola Sr. Egon Blant, no tengo claro si me colocas en el grupo de Esclavos de las tendencias, en el de los críticos más snobs, o en el de aquellos para los que el cine se basa únicamente en una historia que enganche, o si simplemente hablabas en términos genéricos utilizando mi comentario como excusa. Tampoco termino de tener claro el uso que haces de la cursiva, pero me divierte.
Entre los muchos clichés que usas (es inevitable hacerlo en un post para comunicarse con eficacia; pero "manifactura incontestable" era realmente una expresión necesaria?) me ha llamado la atención el del "montaje que no reste protagonismo a la historia". Precisamente, el único exceso expresivo en tan plano film que se me viene a la cabeza es la escena inicial, montada - debemos suponer que a propósito- de manera que el espacio y las relaciones entre personajes resulten incomprensibles, y sean (idealmente) explicadas a través del largo flashback que da forma a la película.
Por lo demás el discurrir de la película es lento y monótono, con una narrativa extremadamente tradicional (a su favor, como señalas, el haber contenido la cámara del histérico Rodrigo Prieto), pobre de significado y de riqueza estética de ningún tipo. Es significativa la escena en la que la protagonista y su colega ponen en escena una pequeña y patrióticamente naïf obrita de teatro: la torpeza, la falta de sutileza de la representación dentro de la representación, no resulta incómoda o forzada dentro del lenguaje global del film, como podría en principio suponerse y desearse; al contrario, participa de éste y se integra en su esquematismo expresivo.
Tengo que irme, así que me ayudo de una pequeña cita, que siempre queda fino y elegante en tan altas discusiones.
@Roland:Esa sutileza del sentido, esa convicción de que el sentido no se agota groseramente en la cosa dicha, sino que va siempre más allá, fascinado por el sinsentido, es, considero, la de todos los artistas cuyo objeto no es esta o aquella técnica, sino ese objeto extraño, la vibración. El objeto representado vibra, en detrimento del dogma. Pienso en las palabras de Braque: "El cuadro está terminado cuando ha borrado la idea". (…)
¿Por qué es decisiva esta sutileza del sentido? Precisamente porque el sentido, en cuanto está fijado e impuesto, en cuanto deja de ser sutil, se convierte en un instrumento, un mecanismo del poder. Darle sutileza al sentido es pues una actividad políticamente secundaria, como lo es todo esfuerzo que pretenda desgastar, problematizar o desactivar el fanatismo del sentido.Añado por pudor que el personaje protagonista es muy interesante, y en los escasos momentos en los que se centraban en sus dudas evitando los simplismos de kleenex y tententieso la peli se ponía interesante.
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Sr.Egon Blant, Ya se por donde vas, o que es lo que quieres debatir, pero espera hombre, no tengas prisa, ese discurso de crítica al tendencioso de turno no se ofrece con Ang Lee. Precipitado.
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@Chiappucci:3745g04l:
Hola Sr. Egon Blant, no tengo claro si me colocas en el grupo de Esclavos
de las tendencias, en el de los críticos más snobs, o en el de aquellos para
los que el cine se basa únicamente en una historia que enganche, o si
simplemente hablabas en términos genéricos utilizando mi comentario
como excusa.Si usted no pertenece a ninguno de esos grupos no debe preocuparse.
@Chiappucci:3745g04l:
Tampoco termino de tener claro el uso que haces de la cursiva, pero me
divierte.Uso la cursiva de manera poética y creativa, como es evidente, y me
satisface le divierta, ¿acaso no entramos aquí con ese objetivo? Porque
pobre del que se tome esto en serio.@Chiappucci:3745g04l:
Entre los muchos clichés que usas (es inevitable hacerlo en un post para
comunicarse con eficacia; pero "manifactura incontestable" era realmente
una expresión necesaria?)Naturalmente, como lo eran:
"bluff no por previsible menos espectacular" e "insulso y mediocre
producto para el mercado de masas".En la primera de sus frases que he escogido saltan a la vista los prejuicios
que le asaltan sobre el prestigioso Ang Lee.@Chiappucci:3745g04l:
me ha llamado la atención el del "montaje que no reste protagonismo a la
historia". Precisamente, el único exceso expresivo en tan plano film que
se me viene a la cabeza es la escena inicial, montada - debemos suponer
que a propósito-…Esto último debe ser una broma.
@Chiappucci:3745g04l:
de manera que el espacio y las relaciones entre personajes resulten
incomprensiblesQue a usted le resulte incomprensible desacredita la escena,
comprendo.@Chiappucci:3745g04l:
Por lo demás el discurrir de la película es lento y monótono, con una
narrativa extremadamente tradicionalSer "extremadamente tradicional" es negativo… lo que un servidor
trataba de explicar , de manera más concisa, en el post anterior y
no va a repetir.
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@Disperso:whvk8gs4:
Sr.Egon Blant, Ya se por donde vas, o que es lo que quieres debatir,
pero espera hombre, no tengas prisa, ese discurso de crítica al tendencioso
de turno no se ofrece con Ang Lee. Precipitado.Me va a tener que disculpar, pero me ha vuelto a invadir la pereza
después de lo señalado en negrita. Confío no fuera algo de importancia.
Le ruego se dirija a mi de manera más breve en otra ocasión.
Gracias.
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Tu recurrencia se espesa.
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@Disperso:3s5yyijq:
Tu recurrencia se espesa.
Me gustaba más lo que puso antes de editar este mensaje:
"Usted es de broma. Cada vez más."Piense antes de publicar cada mensaje y no tendrá
que editar varias veces para parecer más ingenioso.
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No descontextualize sr. Blant que le hace menudo. ¿usted alguna vez ha paseado cojo y salvo?
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Ang Lee suele molar un huevo. Y ya está.
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No he visto la última de Ang lee, pero de lo que he visto aun no he encontrado ninguna peli suya que no me guste…
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Ayer vi en DVD NO MATARÁS (A short film about killing) de Krzysztof Kieslowski. Para mi la pelicula mas cruda y directa que he visto hasta ahora, sobre asesinar. Supongo que es lo mas cercano que se puede hacer en cine, al exisistencialismo de uno de mis libros favoritos El Extranjero de Camus.
Revisare la trilogia de los tres colores, por que este mamonazo rodaba de tal manera, que llevo toda la mañana con visiones de la peli.
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@Trinxo:8mpvf08e:
No he visto la última de Ang lee, pero de lo que he visto aun no he encontrado ninguna peli suya que no me guste…
La del Hulk acaba siendo un híbrido entre una peli suya y un blockbuster, no me acabo… Pero solo por haber hecho La tormenta de hielo se le perdona todo.
