Then the film started.......

The screen turns red and that music cuts through the air which, in some indescribable way, lets you know what kind of journey you're about to embark on.

We're introduced to the iconic figure of Alex, flanked by his droogs then there's the seamless combination of a zoom out into a backwards track.

I realise that 99.9% of you will have seen this 2:16 of cinema many, many times. Kubrick, and Kubricks films however, never atain the status of boring. Any yes, I do include BARRY LYNDON and EYES WIDE SHUT in that statement.

Enjoy.

Right then, this post was originally an adjunct to a recent Flotsam And Jetsam post but I simply lost control and have gone into 'one'. In my arrogance I expected to learn nothing new given my previously explained obsession but man, there was some magic in there for the Kubrick film nerd with some enchanting footage and insights which deserve a full post, here is the documentary all in one file. Quel suprise I thought the documentary was woefully short at only an hour but hey, I doubt I'd be satisfied with a 12 part mini-series but that's just me.  

First of all, I loved the photography down London's Commercial Road, a street literally within spitting distance from me which I meandered down on the way up to Stratford to see 'Double Indemnity' a couple of weeks ago. Growing up in Peterborough it's still something of a strangeness that the great man lived and worked down the road in St. Albans - maybe I even walked past him one day, even though I have never really gravitated to hanging round near stationary shops - this will make a little more sense if you saw the documentary. Kinda. 

Given the tales that Leon Vitali had burnt at Kubrick's instruction all the outtakes and alternative scenes of his movies shot since 1961 it was stunning to see some of the (albeit brief) footage from 'Lolita' and of course the EIGHTEEN hours of material that his step-daughter shot on the making of 'Full Metal Jacket' in a manner similar to her documentary on the shooting of 'The Shining' - someone will put this together at some point I'm sure for another fascinating documentary. I am available by the way <crosses fingers...prays...>.....

All the stuff about the shell Empirium film company (for employing proof readers to collate interesting media stories and enhance existing projects - I'm sure the Web in its current development would have literally blown Kubricks mind in this fashion) was new and the references to his abandoned 'Aryan Papers' again made me vaguely angry that Spielberg beat him to the chase for possibly a far more affecting and honorable treatment of one of the most terrible events of the 20th century. I've bored friends with his opinion on this and I'll bore you too - Kubrick said 'The story of the Holocaust isn't the 600 Jews that were saved, it's the story of the six million who didn't'. Make of that what you will but the stories of him, this alleged misanthrope literally breaking down into tears amongst the horde of research materials he had collected speaks volumes to me. 

One of the older Kubrick books I own made a very accurate point to my mind that he really should have pulled his finger out, just stopped obsessing so much and got out there to shoot stuff to put together films like he did in the 50's and early 60's instead of pulling the whole Prospero type thing toward the end of his career. I guess in his defence he was so venerated, so admired and so much was expected of him that the bad reviews did sting him even when they were inaccurate and failed to appreciate his being ahead of the curve - the Pauline Kael review of '2001' really affected him (she said 'It's a monumentally unimaginative movie') even though she eventually recanted and understood that it was so visionary and ambitious she didn't get it amongst the morass of a dozen plus films that a professional reviewer will view in a week.

I've always admired tales I've read of his reach around the globe from his home base in East Anglia. I loved the fact that his concern that his films be projected perfectly in the ideal environment was such that he cultivated a network of contacts in the film industry around the world who would visit cinemas in their market (Edgar Reitz in Germay, Bertrand Tavernier in France for example)  and check the film gates, the projectors, the marketing strategy in the local press, the whole release pattern and delivery. That my friends is delegation. My absolute personal best though is when SF author Iain Banks was working with him on A.I when they got to a point of disagreement on the current geography of New York, Stan's home town and a place that Iain had never visited. Stan calls the manager of Macys and asks if he can photograph the view from the department store, an area where some scenes were set. Manager thinks it's a fraud and hangs up. Exasperated, Kubrick calls the VP of Warner Brothers in New York who intercedes and the shots are acquired, Fed-Ex'd and arrive in St. Albans a week later. It's such a wonderful example of his reach, method and kudos.

Just to finish on a quick rant I'll just point out that a film fucking season should be properly fucking scheduled - they showed his movies at ridiculous times, including a screening of arguably his best film - 'Barry Lyndon' (2001 always for me but hey) at 1.00am - yeah, that'll get the people watching a three hour movie. I wouldn't mind but given the effort they made with the season trailer this strikes me as a perfect example of the contemporary UK attitude to the visual arts and domination of worthless, pointless, fast food trash that pollutes the communication channels. <sulks>. Anyway, to close I'll chorus Ronson's conclusion with the footage of Kubrick accepting the D.W Griffith Directors Award from 1998. Says it all.

Cena de "Barry Lyndon", talvez o melhor filme de Stanley Kubrick

Toda a vida vai passar na tua frente

como um filme de Stanley Kubrick.

A infância, o que tramou,

a juventude, o que tramou,

e o sonho de amadurecer

e envelhecer tentando não se render.

Toda vida poderia ser um filme de

Stanley Kubrick: quem é que vai te segurar

quando for grande o medo

de flutuar?

E se a vida de repente for um filme de

Stanley Kubrick? E tudo aquilo que sentimos

não for nada que sentimos, na verdade estiver

longe daqui?

.

Grados de recomendación.

***** obra maestra
**** excelente
*** distinguida
** recomendada
* suficiente
- no recomendada

.

Semana 29:

Paranoid Park (Van Sant, 2007) (7.0) es otra apuesta e intrigante obra minimalista del director, esta vez sobre la inarticulación de un adolescente promedio y sobre el asesinato que lo pone drásticamente en contacto con su humanidad y mortalidad. Muchos se han dado a la tarea de discutir si este asesinato es intencional o no, perdiendo el punto de que la intencionalidad probablemente no aplica, y nunca es el punto del film. Visualmente, Van Sant establece el estado del protagonista a través del leit motif de la obra: el protagonista observando pasivamente su medio ambiente -usualmente desde abajo, casi en estado de indefensión- con una expresión ambigua que raya entre la indiferencia y el pánico. Esto es reforzado por el hipnótico panorama aural, que sugiere un profundo estado de introspección, y quizás hasta -ahem- cierto estado de hipnosis. La ecléctica banda sonora escogida para el film -ej.: Elliot Smith, Nino Rota, Beethoven, rap, tu clásico pop electrónico fracturado- contrasta con el comportamiento inerte del héroe/protagonista, tal vez no con sus interiores. Igual que con las otras cintas de la serie minimalista de Van Sant ("Gerry", "Elephant", "Last days") la participación activa del espectador es una exigencia, y hay mucha tela que cortar aquí. Notables los paralelos con "Psycho" (1: otro asesinato que trasciende la intencionalidad, 2: recordar el repudiado remake del director): manejando bajo la lluvia + música expresiva del estado del personaje, una desgarradora escena en la ducha, el uso metafórico de la desnudez -significando, de hecho, desnudez-, actitud obviamente sospechosa del criminal protagonista (más: policía que sospecha y escudriña), ambigüedad sexual del héroe. Único: Nuestro héroe skaterboy protagoniza aquí el más indiferente desvirgamiento adolescente jamás filmado. ¿Trivia?: El asesinato en la médula del film -un hombre cortado a la mitad- trajo a la memoria los asesinatos via desmembramiento cometidos en otra reciente película que retrata la inarticulación urbana y la desensibilización moderna, la injustamente menospreciada "In the cut" de Jane Campion. --- La sencilla historia de amor Angst essen seele auf ("Miedo come el alma", Fassbinder, 1974) (8.0) es una de las películas más duras que verán. Porque es una simple, desnuda historia de amor. Como lo comenté antes, pocas veces tendrán una oportunidad tan elocuente de apreciar a la raza humana despojada de las virtuosas vestiduras que usualmente le imponemos los humanos. Si alguna vez hago una lista de las películas que deben verse (no las mejores), éste título sería fundamental. Si creyera que el cine tiene cualidades didácticas, aún más. --- Y volví a ver el musical con Astaire y Garland Easter parade (C.Walters, 1948) (6.5) y me pareció mucho mejor que la primera vez que la ví. Podría mejorar con el tiempo. El encanto de ciertos musicales es intocable, y al parecer nací con la fibra que ellos martillean sin misericordia. Disfrutar estos musicales es ser feliz. --- El visualmente suntuoso escaparate de humor negro y absurdo Death becomes her (Zemeckis, 1992) (6.5) da la impresión de ser lo que colaboración Spielberg-Zemeckis "1941" quiso ser. A pesar de la dificultad del material, la película raramente da un paso en falso. Me atrevo a asegurarlo: envejecerá mejor que la más famosa "Back to the future". --- Breakdown (J.Mostow, 1997) (5.5) luce como una versión más formuláica y mediana de la "Duel" de Spielberg. Provee los sustos y emociones de un thriller funcional sin desafiar mucho la credibilidad del espectador en el argumento, y eso es todo. --- El gran espectáculo de aventuras Tenkû no shiro Rapyuta ("Laputa: Castillo en el cielo", Miyazaki, 1986) (7.5) es como la película de aventuras hollywoodense que se habría hecho en los años 30-40 si las filmaciones de acción en vivo no hubieran limitado la imaginación de los autores. El talento de Miyazaki para la apelación emocional, el desarrollo psicológico de personajes, y el retrato natural de un universo peculiar e imaginario muestra estar aquí en su punto. Para acción, aventuras e imaginación sin límite, no busquéis más. Mayor recomendación: vedla un sábado por la mañana. --- The believer (H.Bean, 2001) (6.0) resalta por ser un calificadamente empático retrato de un adolescente neonazi y sus groupies -increíble verlo por la tele-, por la articulación de sus argumentos y la interpretación en el rol principal del joven Ryan Gosling. --- Aspira Barry Lyndon (Kubrick, 1975) (7.5) ser la definitiva adaptación cinematográfica de la literatura histórica y pastoral. La brillante puesta en escena fotográfica, una de las mejores en la historia del cine, se nos muestra como una sucesión interminable de pinturas de época en movimiento, esto con un memorable uso del zooming. La ambientación es espectacular, la notable labor de maquillaje resalta por su aparente veracidad histórica, y el uso de la música registró la elocuencia usual en las obras de su director. Es otra comida completa de Kubrick, notable por la intencionadamente desigual pugna entre la forma (amplia ganadora) y el contenido. --- The door in the floor (T.Williams, 2002) (6.5) es una película inteligente pero menor, comendablemente escrita, con lo que parece un buen material de apoyo (debe serlo si viene de John Irving), una sólida interpretación principal del eternamente menospreciado Jeff Bridges, y cierto atractivo en la puesta en escena e interpretaciones referentes al sexo que ocurre entre un aspirante a escritor adolescente y el personaje de Kim Basinger, esposa depresiva que perdió a sus dos hijos adolescentes en un accidente de tránsito.

Esta semana:

Paranoid Park (Van Sant, 2007) **
Angst essen seele auf ("Miedo come el alma", Fassbinder, 1974) ***
Easter parade (C.Walters, 1948) **
Death becomes her (Zemeckis, 1992) **
Breakdown (J.Mostow, 1997) *
Tenkû no shiro Rapyuta ("Laputa: Castillo en el cielo", Miyazaki, 1986) ***
The believer (H.Bean, 2001) *
Barry Lyndon (Kubrick, 1975) ***
The door in the floor (T.Williams, 2002) **

.

- - -

Contribuciones Cinematográficas Distinguidas:
(excepto: Easter parade, The door in the floor)

.

Dirección:
Paranoid Park (Gus van Sant) **
Angst essen seele auf (Reiner Fassbinder) **
Death becomes her (Robert Zemeckis) **
Barry Lyndon (Stanley Kubrick) ***

Guión:
Tenkû no shiro Rapyuta (Hayao Miyazaki) **
The door in the floor (Tod Williams) **

Producción:
Barry Lyndon (Stanley Kubrick) ****

Dirección de fotografía:
Paranoid Park (Christopher Doyle, Rain Li) **
Barry Lyndon (John Alcott) ****

Edición:
Paranoid Park (Gus van Sant) **

Arte:
Barry Lyndon (Ken Adam) ***

Música original:
Death becomes her (Alan Silvestri) **
Tenkû no shiro Rapyuta (Joe Hisaishi) **

Sonido:
Paranoid Park (Leslie Schatz, Felix Andrew, Vincent Cosson) **

Interpretación:
Angst essen seele auf (Briggite Mira) ***
Death becomes her (Meryl Streep) **
The believer (Ryan Gosling) **

.

.

-
En AM:
Peliculas recientes.
Cine.
Todas las películas que he visto.
Ranking: Las películas de 2007.

Después de un corto en 1965 (Boy and Bicycle), en el que su hermano Tony era el protagonista, y de trabajos para series televisivas, Ridley se lanzó al ruedo de la dirección cinematográfica en 1977 con “Los duelistas”, cuyo guión estaba basado en una novela de Joseph Conrad.

Esta ópera prima de Scott, poco valorada en su momento, tachada sobre todo, de estar rodada a un ritmo excesivamente lento, a lo largo de los años ha ido ocupando el verdadero lugar que le pertenecía, y hoy en día se la considera una película de culto.

El título de “culto” que alcanzan muchas películas que en su estreno fueron poco valoradas, o consideradas simplemente malas, mete en el mismo saco a excelentes películas, y a verdaderos bodrios (de culto son las películas de Ed Wood, y siguen siendo malísimas aunque las veamos con ojos condescendientes). “Los duelistas” nunca tendría que haber entrado en esa categoría, porque su calidad era la misma en el año 1977, que en la actualidad.

Su puesta en escena que nos recuerda al “Barry Lyndon” que nos había ofrecido Stanley Kubrick dos años antes, es impecable, y su fotografía, perfecta. Contiene una de las más inquietantes bandas sonoras, y si la película nos habla de dos duelistas, excelente es el duelo interpretativo de los dos protagonistas, un por entonces prometedor Keith Carradine, (que se quedó poco a poco en el camino después de algunas buenas actuaciones posteriores, y que ahora podemos ver en la serie “Dexter”, con algunos añitos mas a las espaldas), y un Harvey Keitel, que ya había dado muestras anteriores de su calidad interpretativa, y que en esta película nos ofrece una gran talla como actor.

No podía pedírsele mucho más a una película que reunía tantos puntos positivos, pero por lo que fuera, “no cayó de pié”, y se la relegó durante tiempo a un segundo plano entre la posterior filmografía de su director.

Scott, que tiene verdaderas joyas cinematográficas en su haber “Blade Runner”, “Alien”, o “Thelma y Louise”, es un director muy irregular, y carece de sello propio, pero ya solo por esta su primera película, tendría que haber pasado a la historia del cine.

Trailer (en inglés)

Swanson 

Barry Lyndon (Barry Lyndon, 1975)

"Foi no reinado de George III que os personagens desta história viveram e brigaram. Bons ou maus, bonitos ou feios, ricos ou pobres, agora são todos iguais". É com essa declaração contundente e ironicamente desesperançosa, que Kubrick encerra este que é, a meu ver (dos que assisti, claro), sua obra mais "limpa", linear, sóbria, talvez até comum demais, para quem já viu 2001: Uma Odisséia No Espaço e suas inúmeras indagações existenciais,ou Laranja Mecânica,e sua extravagância estética. Barry Lyndon é puramente lindo e só por isso já se basta. Muito se fala de sua fotografia única, sua iluminação natural (Kubrick dispensou o uso de iluminação artificial, até mesmo em cenas noturnas, utilizando-se apenas de velas, emulando o tipo de iluminação que era realmente utilizado na época, século XVIII) e de como cada quadro do filme é tratado como se fosse uma verdadeira obra de arte, evocando o histórico, nos proporcionando uma viagem deveras prazerosa àqueles campos, àqueles hábitos, àqueles tempos. Nada disso é mentira, o mesmo impacto causado por suas demais obras, em Barry Lyndon, é causado justamente por esse fator: a beleza, a perfeição de cada enquadramento, a quase inatingível perfeição.

O jovem irlandês Redmond Barry (interpretado de forma "estranha" por Ryan O'Neal, como se fosse um boneco manipulado pela trama, sem poder reagir), é apresentado inicialmente para nós como um herói romântico,que demonstra sentimentos nobres, como a bravura e a pureza. Apaixona-se pela prima, a qual é cortejada por um nobre do exército inglês, resultando num duelo entre ele e seu opositor, que por vez resulta no afastamento de Barry do seio familiar, iniciando-se aí sua saga, ao refugiar-se em Dublim. Sofre um assalto no caminho,e para sobreviver ingressa no Exército Britânico, desertando algumas batalhas;  depois, sendo capturado e recrutado pelo exército da Prússia, onde torna-se espião a serviço do Capitão Potzdorf, que o encarrega de espionar um certo Chevalier de Balibari, ao qual decide se aliar – ao invés de espioná-lo, auxiliando-o em suas atividades dentro da elite européia – o que lhe abre o caminho para vir a conhecer (e casar-se) com a Senhorita Lyndon, de quem herda o sobrenome pomposo. Estabelecido na aristocracia, porém muito endividado, sofrendo com a morte do filho que teve com Lyndon e tendo que enfrentar a desaprovação explícita de seu enteado – que o julga como um aproveitador – Barry Lyndon vai afundando lentamente em sua pompa, cada dia menos pomposa, de aristocrata ascendente.

A forma como o enredo nos é apresentado, com uma narração que nos aproxima dos fatos e da história, muitas vezes até revelando coisas que ainda nem aconteceram, envolve, por ser permeada por reviravoltas; o que conseqüentemente resulta em mudanças constantes na forma como vemos Barry, o protagonista, que de forma gradual, sutil e incrivelmente coesa, passa de herói romântico para tirano detestável e sem escrúpulos, sem jamais parecer "forçado". Entendemos, no nosso âmago,que Barry mudou porque foi levado a isso, pelos acontecimentos e consequências que o marcaram desde sua fuga, após o duelo sem recompensa (apesar da vitória) com o nobre do exército inglês. Estaria Kubrick,mais uma vez,manipulando nosso senso de certo/errado? A beleza estética do filme serviria para ocultar, de forma propositadamente púdica, algo não tão belo?

O filme termina com um segundo duelo, dessa vez com Barry saindo derrotado. E sem uma das pernas. A pausa feita na última cena em que ele é mostrado, subindo em uma charrete, e desequilibrando-se, devido à deficiencia física, funciona de forma a poupar Barry, o nosso herói romântico (e nos poupar também), daquela última vergonha, da derrocada vexatória que aquela cena causaria à forma elegante e plena como tudo nos tinha sido apresentado.  Não o vemos tropeçar e cair, de forma patética, antes de subir na charrete; mas sabemos que ele caiu, terminando da mesma forma como começou. "Bons ou maus, bonitos ou feios, ricos ou pobres, agora são todos iguais". É assim que Kubrick nos joga na cara a indagação eternamente pertinente em nossa existência, em torno dos rumos que damos à nossa vida, em torno de atitudes que julgamos serem as mais aceitáveis para uma vida sadia em sociedade, em torno de um caráter que moldamos para apresentarmos aos outros, aos pouquinhos, enfrentando – e muitas vezes confrontando – os percalços que nos são apresentados. Tudo isso para, no fim, nos indagarmos, rendidos à fadiga de uma vida longa e sem volta: "Serei punido/Serei recompensado/Foi tudo em vão"? Barry Lyndon, como eu disse no princípio, é um filme admiravelmente belo, quase não permitindo a nós uma análise que passe de uma mera percepção e vislumbramento de sua... beleza. Pode não ser o melhor filme da filmografia de Kubrick, afirmar isso da filmografia de quem quer que seja é absolutamente subjetivo, mas é, provavelmente, o que atesta com mais veemência sua condição de diretor extremamente aplicado.

4/4

Rodrigo Jordão

Veja todos os 100 aqui!

Via Agência Ginga.

Prussia existed as a state until 1947! I personally hadn't even heard of the place until I watched the film Barry Lyndon which featured the Seven Year's War in which Prussia took part.

I mention this because countries do not last forever. We place so much pride on the nation we come from and represent. We develop feelings of hostility towards "enemies" simply because they are from a different country. The fact is though, these countries are all surrounded by man-made borders. They don't really exist. A country is a human concept of possession and territory.

Here's a quick list of other countries that no longer exist in the conceptual form of countries as we define them:

• Bengal
• Catalonia
• Champa
• Corsica
• New Granada
• Persia
• Vermont

Some countries are not even "recognised" by other countries. Taiwan is claimed by the People's Republic of China as a province of its own nation, and not a separate nation at all!

What exactly is the benefit of these man-made borders? I'm not suggesting by any means that all our fences be thrown down allowing anyone to live anywhere in the world they like. This is purely a theoretical discussion. But what if this was the case? What if there were no borders and the world behaved legally like one giant country? Dare we all place our national pride in the pride of being from the planet Earth? Then who would we invade? Perhaps that is why we are so determined to find life on other planets.

http://thisdevilsworkday.wordpress.com/

Título Original: Barry Lyndon
Gênero: Drama
Tempo de Duração: 183 minutos
Ano de Lançamento: (EUA) 1975
Estúdio: Hawk Films / Peregrine / Polaris
Distribuição: Warner Bros.
Direção: Stanley Kubrick
Roteiro: Stanley Kubrick, baseado em livro de William Makepeace Thackeray
Produção: Stanley Kubrick
Elenco
Ryan O'Neal (Barry Lyndon)
Marisa Berenson (Lady Lyndon)
Hardy Krüger (Capitão Potzdorf)
Steven Berkoff (Lorde Ludd)
Gay Hamilton (Nora Brady)
Marie Kean (Mãe de Barry)
Murray Melvin (Reverendo Samuel Runt)
Frank Middlemass (Sir Charles Lyndon)
André Morell (Lorde Wendover)
Diana Körner (Garota alemã)
Patrick Magee
Sinopse: No século XVIII, um aventureiro irlandês, por ter transgredido a lei, é obrigado a deixar seu país e tornar-se espião, soldado e jogador. Mas seu principal objetivo é chegar até a aristocracia através do casamento e consegue, mas, apesar de um período de felicidade, um triste destino o aguarda.

Comentário: Não é um dos top do Kubrick, mas mesmo assim muito bom. Vale a pena conferir a fotografia e o figurino de época, o que deram a força do filme junto com a direção, mais do que a atuação dos atores...

MÚSICA: HOT CHIP - BOY FROM SCHOOL

Living abroad, basically out of a backpack, prevents one from maintaining the lifestyle of a pack rat. Before splitting from Portland for European lands, my comrade in mischief and I sold off hundreds of books to Powell's Books. And what they wouldn't take, we gave away. Although we started packing and getting rid of items a month in advance, the pressure to clear out our cluttered yet pleasantly comfortable apartment was cranked up pretty high those last two weeks. So plenty of books and VHS tapes went to neighbors, acquaintances, and strangers. What we chose to keep--still a good, solid library--got packed up and is supposedly safe and sound in some climate controlled wonderland waiting for us to return one day. My DVDs all went to a friend for safe keeping. No doubt they will be put to good use.

But some of my discs managed to escape being orphaned and are currently accompanying me on my journeys. In the past, when I had traveled "close to the ground," the thought of having immediate access to films was absurd. And though I would occasionally dream of having films at my disposal, the idea was completely within the realm of science fiction. In the early 1990s, during my first lengthy trip to Europe, I was basically living in a cave. No, seriously. Well, it was a small, unheated one room flat with stone walls and only a wood stove to heat the place. I craved movies, but I craved heat even more. The last time that I was overseas for an extended period of time was 1996, DVDs were still a year away from entering the forum of mainstream acceptability, and therefore the idea of packing a bunch of them with me was ridiculous. I might as well have had access to a jet pack.

Not that I would want to take a traveling case of discs with me anyhow. Traveling, at least the way I've always done it, has been about surrendering the comforts of home, relinquishing the familiar, and attempting to reconnect with the alleyways of life.

Anyway, books were more transportable.

Things are different now. Because of work, I have to have access to films, or at least access to the machine that can bring them to life: a laptop. So I brought some with me and it ended up being a perfect opportunity to test out the "desert island" theory of film watching. You're on a desert island and you can only bring twenty-five films. What films do you bring?

I stowed away a fair bit. Films that would inspire, would sharpen the intellectual batteries, would amuse, would withstand the repeat factor, and would continue to charge the imagination when nothing else would. There was also "homework" to consider, so a few of those ended up with me as well, though most of the required viewing is still back in Oregon awaiting orders to re-enlist for duty.

So what did make the cut? Obvious favorites, to be sure: Seven Samurai, Blade Runner (in all its permutations), Goodbye, Dragon Inn, Le Samurai, Heart of Glass, The Conformist, Curse of the Demon/Night of the Demon, Suspiria, the Sergio Leone westerns, Bad Timing, The Thin Red Line, The Searchers and some other Ford/Wayne westerns, The Wild Bunch, a whole lot of Mario Bava and other European horror films from the 1960s, Barry Lyndon, some Godard, some Truffaut, a couple of Japanese horror films, a couple of samurai films, all of the Val Lewton films, and Lifeforce. Yes, Lifeforce, the craptacular 1985 Tobe Hooper movie. I also tossed in Marcel Carné's Children of Paradise because I've never seen it (an embarrassing admission) and what better time to watch it than when abroad and more likely to have a little time to spare for a 190 minute masterpiece. I'd received the Criterion Collection disc for a review that never panned out and was always waiting for that appropriate rainy day. Well, it took a few years and me having to leave my abode to do it, but I plan on watching it soon.

When planning my exile, I'd expected to watch plenty of films. I purchased a good, compact traveling case and stuffed it with digital goodies. Much to my surprise, my old ways have sort of kicked in again. I haven't watched much. The first month we were too much on the go, getting acclimated to traveling again. But this last month we've been stationary, so we managed to watch The Devil's Backbone, The Wicker Man (the original 1973 Robin Hardy film not the LaBute/Cage carnival of guffaws) and a couple of nights ago I settled into the Lewton/Robson film The Ghost Ship. More about that last one in a near-future post.

This new, more accommodating style of traveling is weird. I'm not complaining, mind you. But it's still weird to have the luxury of being seemingly so far from "home," so far from the familiar and yet be so connected. It's not exactly like I'm in some mountain retreat at the moment, so I'm not too worked up about it. But it does make me wonder that if I was on a real desert island, I think watching a movie would be the last thing on my "to-do" list.

Art is the highlight of life; it gives life more sense and meaning than anything else. Beauty and critic are art's most powerful allies in transcending a banal reality and making it history. The prior appeals to the senses, just like Stanley Kubrick's candle-lit scenes in "Barry Lyndon"; the latter analyzes reality and produces knowledge that directly battles the dominant logic and motivates social change. Beauty is sensical and an outward process that depends on visual technique and creativity, whereas critic is rational and generated internally, leaning on previous intellectual background and attentive observation of reality.

If these two elements are generated solely by the will of their creator, then the artist has honored his title. When the artist lends his craft to external interests, then be becomes a trained worker or a mere executor of tasks. Worse yet, he might not only dishonor his title, but also his morals through the cowardly dissemination of merchant foolishness.

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El microondas sedújome.                  

                                             Y tal.

Metí un vaso de leche,

con calcio y demás infiernos. 

Lo saco,

habiendo abierto previamente la puerta

del instigador del pecado. 

¡Miserere mei!

¡Miserere mei!

¡Miserere mei!

Más tarde lo hará el frigorífico, en cuyo interior:

hay bocas y vocablos,

libros y paragüeros,

desodorantes y tazas. 

Hay plumas y sermones,

salmones y grabadoras de dvd,

periódicos y lápices. 

Hay lámparas de aceite,

tambores,

cajones,

pilas,

latas con refrescantes bebidas en su interior…

…

…

…

Pero no hay ningún Godot;

y aun le estoy esperando.

Y me hallo más hambriento que un imperdible.

¡Y que vivan Beckett y la  

bulimia!                                                                                                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                                 Y tal. 

Y tal para cual estuvimos hechos

el uno para el otro

y nos amamos castamente "under the consent of the king".

Y fuimos felices,

y asistimos a matanzas 

                                         (de cerdos),

y sonaban zarabandas

de las siete trompetas

(más virtuosas, en efecto, que la más virtuosa de las damas en las cuales posara su falo el concéntrico                                                                                                                                         Barry Lyndon). 

Y descubrimos lo inefable

del cosmos, los videojuegos

de Play Station, los aquelarres

en horas de solsticio,

las tarjetas de crédito,

las catedrales góticas,

la vida, al fin y al cabo:

todo. 

Todo. 

                                           Y tal. 

Y "Todo" en aquella época

significaba

recortar letras                 

                                 de

invisibles periódicos

                                         de

dudosa orientación política  

                                                para

construir aleatoriamente

poemas a Dadá

de dudosa calidad artística (todo sea dicho de paso);

y meter un vaso de leche,

con calcio y demás infiernos,

y sacarlo,

habiendo abierto previamente la puerta

del susodicho electrodoméstico. 

¡Y rezar!

¡Rezar!

¡O ser Michaux!

Je rame.

Je rame.

Je rame. 

Más tarde lo hará el jeroglífico, en cuyo interior 

                                                                                                         no hay nada.

La nada más absoluta: absolutamente nada.

Excepto vacuos ideogramas, quizás.                 

                                                                                                                                                                     Y tal.

            Včera sa svet rozlúčil so skladateľom filmovej hudby Leonardom Rosenmanom, ktorý vo veku 83 rokov zomrel na infarkt. Rosenman získal Oscara v roku 1975 za pôvodnú filmovú hudbu ku Kubrickovmu filmu Barry Lyndon a taktiež aj o rok neskôr za film Bound For Glory v réžii Hala Ashbyho. Po 10 rokov trvajúcej pauze sa postaral aj o score k štvrtému filmu série Star Trek: The Voyage Home (1986) a k filmu Robocop 2. R.I.P. Leonard...

One fun thing about this joint -- from MY point of view anyhow -- is that I can see in my Blog Stats exactly what kind of web searches people use to find the site. Yes, I am looking into your dark hearts as you navigate the murky waters of the web and come into dock in my cyber-harbour.

As a result, I have become aware that two of the personages I've mentioned in passing have attracted quite a lot of notice. They are '60s British character star Murray Melvin, and Greek mythological character Medusa.

So, whopping great whore that I am, I thought I'd prepare a special blog posting about Murray Melvin and Medusa. Oh, and I'll throw in this random mention of ST TRINIAN'S head girl Gemma Arterton too, since so many of you seem to find her so damn interesting.*

Medusa was head girl of the Gorgons. She had snakes for hair.

Murray Melvin has hair for hair. He starred in A TASTE OF HONEY and pops up in Ken Russell's epic film maudit THE DEVILS, and Kubrick's BARRY LYNDON (the litmus test film that hardcore Kubrickians admire most, and that nobody else likes all that much).

Medusa had a petrifying gaze.

Murray Melvin is a petrifying gay.

Actually, I have no private information about Mr. Melvin's sexuality at all, so I take that back. He was cast as gay in A TASTE OF HONEY and it kind of stuck. He played highly repressed characters in THE DEVILS and BARRY LYNDON, and is a sort of Poster Boy for British Sexual Ambivalence (B.S.A.). I find it interesting (and definitely regrettable) that British cinema has made so little use of him since the swinging 'sixties and 'seventies. My theory is that Melvin's camp quality is out of fashion in a world that either wishes to ignore homosexuality, or is eager to present images of gay men that don't fit the camp stereotype. But some gay men ARE camp, if you want to use that word, and Melvin is an excellent actor, so where's the problem?

It reminds me of the way Hollywood discovered racial sensitivity in the 'forties and slowly phased out most most of the actors who'd made a living playing "comedy negroes" and servants. Replacing them with...virtually nothing. There's an argument that flawed representation is better than NO representation.

The possibility also arises that M.M. was acting camp in films because the roles demanded it, and could just as easily play Dead Butch. It would be slightly surprising to me, but it's still possible. In which case his recent disuse by our national cinema is even sillier.

The last time I saw M.M. at the cinema was way back in Scots director Bill Douglas' COMRADES, which also featured Barbara Windsor and Robert Stephens, who likewise should have been in far more movies.

When Harry Hamlin Perseus lopped off Medusa's serpentine head, her stare maintained its terrible power after death. Still going strong in his seventies, Murray Melvin likewise maintains his momentous powers of dramaturgical dazzlement.

*"Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?" ~ Johnny Rotten.

1. Dr. Strangelove of How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

2. The Shining

3. A Clockwork Orange

4. 2001 A Space Odyssey

5. Full Metal Jacket

6. Spartacus

7. Paths of Glory

8. Barry Lyndon

As always, comments encouraged.