Wednesday, December 10, 2008

III Cine Fest Brazil Barcelona

III Cine Fest Brasil Barcelona

El Circuito Inffinito de Festivales siente una vez más el enorme placer de retornar a esta magnífica ciudad para producir una nueva edición del Cine Fest Brasil.

Hace tres años que venimos presentando al pueblo catalán lo mejor de la más reciente producción audiovisual brasilera, exhibiendo un rico panel de la diversidad del cine producido en Brasil.

Este año preparamos una selección muy especial que cuenta con películas que formaron las mayores taquillas de las salas de exhibición en Brasil, entre ellas: Tropa de Elite, dirigido por José Padilha y vencedor del Oso de Oro en el Festival de Berlín de este año, Mi nombre no es Johnny, el gran vencedor del 13° Cine Fest Brasil-Miami, Estómago, reciente ganador de la Espiga de Oro a la mejor película en el Festival Internacional de Cine de Valladolid entre muchas otras.

Además de la muestra competitiva de largometrajes, el III Cine Fest Brasil-Barcelona también promoverá la muestra DOCTV IB, una serie de documentales producidos en los más diversos países de la cultura Iberoamericana, cuyo objetivo es el estímulo a la implantación de políticas de fomento a la producción y teledifusión de los documentales y la difusión de la producción cultural de los pueblos iberoamericanos en el mercado mundial.

Tenemos absoluta seguridad de que todos disfrutarán, una vez más, de este festival. Nuestro objetivo es promover y divulgar nuestro país y nuestra cultura en España, especialmente aquí, en Barcelona, cuna de innumerables manifestaciones artísticas que se mostraron universalmente categóricas con el paso de los años, y una valiosa puerta de entrada para el producto audiovisual brasilero en Europa, estrechando el intercambio cultural y económico entre los dos países y creando oportunidades de negocios y apertura de mercado de coproducción entre los sectores audiovisuales brasilero y español.

Incurables



Sinopsis
Un hombre, una mujer, una habitación de hotel barato, un juego sin reglas, una única noche. Uno no sabe quien es el otro y, de la misma forma, cada uno puede ser quien quiera.

Ficha técnica
Dirección: Gustavo Acioli
Productor: Lara Pozzobon y Pedro Rocha
Guión: Gustavo Acioli y Marcelo Pedreira
Fotografía: Lula Carvalho
Dirección de arte: André Weller
Montaje: Luiz Guimarães de Castro
Edición de sonido: Damião Lopes
Banda sonora: Leo Guimarães
Elenco: Dira Paes y Fernando Eiras

Friday 19:30

A lonely man, a beautiful woman, a cheap hotel room, a game with no rules, one night only. One does not know who the other is and, for this very reason, each can be who they want.

Getting on in years and disillusioned, a man pays a prostitute just to listen to him. He claims it is his last night as he will shoot himself the next morning. The woman teases him saying she’ll listen to anything for the amount of money he offered her, but in fact, just like him, she is hungry for love and warmth. They spend the night together talking, arguing and making love. They express their fantasies and feelings, sharing moments of euphoria and sadness.

Director Aciolo chose an original play (‘A Dama da Lapa’ by Marcelo Pedreira, not yet staged) as the base of ‘Incurable Ones’ which is his debut as a film director. This existential, claustrophobic and intense drama with tortuous dialogues and sexual impact dominates the scene and keeps the viewer intrigued from beginning to the end.

Gustavo Acioli is a filmmaker, singer and songwriter. After a successful career with the short fiction films in 35mm Guide dog (1999), A regular night (2001), Nothing to say (2003) and Thru philosophy (2004) he directed his feature film The Incurable Ones in 2005, which earned Fernando Eiras a Candango de Ouro award for best actor at the Brasília Film Festival.




Gustavo Acioli (1972) is a filmmaker, singer and songwriter. After a successful career with the short fiction films in 35mm Guide dog (1999), A regular night (2001), Nothing to say (2003) and Thru philosophy (2004) he directed his feature film The Incurable Ones in 2005, which earned Fernando Eiras a Candango de Ouro award for best actor at the Brasília Film Festival.



Bye Bye Brazil




Salomé (Betty Faria), Lorde Cigano (José Wiker) y Andorinha son tres artistas ambulantes que cruzan el país junto con La Caravana Rolidei, haciendo espectáculos para el sector más humilde de la población brasilera y que aún no tienen acceso a la televisión. Se les junta el acordeonista Cico (Fabio Junior) y su esposa, Dasdô (Zaira Zambelli), con los cuales la Caravana cruza Amazonas hasta llegar a Brasilia.



Dirección
Guión: Cacá Diegues y Leopoldo Serran
Producción: Luiz Carlos Barreto y Lucy Barreto
Música: Chico Buarque, Roberto Menescal y Dominguinhos
Fotografia: Lauro Escorel
Organización de producción: Marcos Altberg y Nair Tavares
Dirección de Arte: Anísio Medeiros
Edición: Mair Tavares
Elenco: José Wilker, Betty Faria, Fábio Junior, Zaira Zambelli, Jofre Soares, José Maria Lima, Emmanuel Cavalcante, Rinaldo Gines, Marieta Severo, José Carlos Lacerda, Marcus Vinícius, Príncipe Nabor

Carlos Diegues's ''Bye Bye Brasil'' is a psychological inventory of a country on the verge of extraordinary economic and industrial development, a travelogue through a nation that doesn't yet exist.

A tiny troupe of tacky performers, who call themselves the Caravana Rolidei, mush their way by ancient truck from the arid, povertystricken Brazilian northeast to the seacoast at Belem, across the jungles on the trans-Amazonian highway to Brasilia and points in between. They are a magician-mind reader, a sultry rhumba dancer who hustles on the side, a naive young man who plays the accordion, his very pregnant wife, and a mute black man who drives the truck and picks up small change hand-wrestling in roadside cafes.

Ci,co, the accordion player, falls desperately in love with Salome, the rhumba dancer, who is the mistress of Lord Gypsy, the troupe's leader and star. Lord Gypsy accepts Salome's easy ways and himself has an untroubled affair with Ci,co's wife, Dasdo, after her baby is born. In the course of their tour, Salome and Dasdo become friends with no sense of rivalry.

Mr. Diegues appears to believe that nothing is quite as foolish or dangerous as passions out of control, perhaps in politics as well as in personal relationships. This is an odd, unusually temperate notion to come from a film maker who is one of the fathers of Brazil's ''Cinema Novo,'' that group of young film makers who turned away from conventional film forms in the 1960's to start a cinema more responsive to the country's political and social needs.

''Bye Bye Brasil'' is a most reflective film, nicely acted by its small cast and beautifully though not artily photographed in some remarkable locations. It is civilized.

The filmmakers of Brazil's famous Cinema Novo movement, which arose in the late 1950s and early 1960s, examined the great themes of underdevelopment--such as poverty, hunger, underemployment, and the concentration of land in the hands of a few--in the archetypal setting of the drought-stricken Northeastern backlands. A few years after the demise of Cinema Novo, Carlos Diegues, the writer-director of Bye Bye Brazil (produced in 1979), resurrected those themes and the hinterlands setting in order to portray his country as it transitioned rapidly from underdevelopment towards development, from the ox cart to the jet airplane.

In the movie Bye Bye Brazil (1980), the filmmaker Cacá Diegues scripted a scene in which an Indian leader in the Amazon, while drinking a Coca Cola and listening to the national news on the radio, talks about the president of Brazil as the leader of a foreign nation, a nation to which he did not belong. That image, that construction of distance and separation between oneself and the nation to which that person belongs, raises questions regarding what it means to be part of a nation.





Saturday 19:30

Mi Nombre No Es Johnny




Sinopsis
Él tenía todo. Menos limites. João Guilherme Estrella era un típico joven de clase media, que vivió intensamente su juventud. Inteligente y simpático, era adorado por los padres y popular entre los amigos. Con espíritu aventurero y bohemio, sumergió en todas las locuras permitidas. Y también en las prohibidas. A inicio de los 90, se volvió el rey del tráfico de drogas de la zona sur de Río de Janeiro. Investigado por la policía, fue preso y su nombre llegó a las primeras páginas de los periódicos. En lugar de fiestas, comenzó a frecuentar el banco de los reos. Su historia se revela en sueños y dramas comunes a toda la juventud.

Ficha Técnica:
Dirección: Mauro Lima
Producción: Mariza Leão
Guión: Mariza Leão y Mauro Lima, basado en el libro de Guilherme Fiúza
Fotografía: Uli Burtin
Dirección de arte: Cláudio Amaral Peixoto
Música: Fábio Mondego
Montaje: Marcelo Moraes
Elenco: Selton Mello, Cléo Pires, Júlia Lemmertz, Rafaela Mandelli, Eva Todor, André di Biasi, Giulio Lopes, Cássia Kiss, Ângelo Paes Leme, Orã Figueiredo, Hossen Minussi, Luís Miranda, Gillray Coutinho, Kiko Mascarenhas, Flávio Bauraqui, Aramis Trindade, Neco Vila Lobos, Charly Braun, Felipe Martins, Roney Villela, Wendell Bendelack, Ivan de Almeida, Flávio Pardal y Rodrigo Amarante


Sunday 19:30


Los Desafinados



Sinopsis
Él tenía todo. Menos limites. João Guilherme Estrella era un típico joven de clase media, que vivió intensamente su juventud. Inteligente y simpático, era adorado por los padres y popular entre los amigos. Con espíritu aventurero y bohemio, sumergió en todas las locuras permitidas. Y también en las prohibidas. A inicio de los 90, se volvió el rey del tráfico de drogas de la zona sur de Río de Janeiro. Investigado por la policía, fue preso y su nombre llegó a las primeras páginas de los periódicos. En lugar de fiestas, comenzó a frecuentar el banco de los reos. Su historia se revela en sueños y dramas comunes a toda la juventud.

Ficha Técnica:
Dirección: Mauro Lima
Producción: Mariza Leão
Guión: Mariza Leão y Mauro Lima, basado en el libro de Guilherme Fiúza
Fotografía: Uli Burtin
Dirección de arte: Cláudio Amaral Peixoto
Música: Fábio Mondego
Montaje: Marcelo Moraes
Elenco: Selton Mello, Cléo Pires, Júlia Lemmertz, Rafaela Mandelli, Eva Todor, André di Biasi, Giulio Lopes, Cássia Kiss, Ângelo Paes Leme, Orã Figueiredo, Hossen Minussi, Luís Miranda, Gillray Coutinho, Kiko Mascarenhas, Flávio Bauraqui, Aramis Trindade, Neco Vila Lobos, Charly Braun, Felipe Martins, Roney Villela, Wendell Bendelack, Ivan de Almeida, Flávio Pardal y Rodrigo Amarante


Monday 19:30


Mutum




Sinopsis
Mutum quiere decir mudo. Mutun es una ave negra que solo canta por la noche. Y Mutum es también el nombre de un sitio inhóspito en el desierto de Minas Gerais, donde viven Thiago y su familia. Thiago tiene diez años y es un chico distinto de los demás. A través de su mirada que vemos el mundo nebuloso de los adultos, con sus traiciones, violencias y silencios. Al lado de Felipe, su hermano y único amigo, Thiago tendrá que enfrentarse con este mundo, descubriéndolo al mismo tiempo en que tendrá que aprender a dejarlo.

Ficha técnica
Dirección: Sandra Kogut
Producción: Flávio R. Tambellini
Guión: Anna Luiza Martins Costa y Sandra Kogut
Fotografía: Mauro Pinheiro Jr.
Dirección artística: Marcos Pedroso
Montaje: Sérgio Mekler
Edición de sonido: Waldir Xavier, Eduardo Pop y Thomas Robert
Producción: Flavio R. Tambellini, Laurent Lavolé e Isabelle Pragier

Elenco: Thiago da Silva Mariz, Wallison Felipe Lela Barroso, João Miguel, Izadora Cristiani Fernandes Silveira, Rômulo Romeu Garcia Braga, Paula Regina Sampaio da Silva, Maria das Graças Leal de Macedo y Eduardo da Luz Moreira

Tuesday 22:00


*******************************************************************

Forasters

El cineasta català Ventura Pons ha presentat "Forasters", la seva tercera pel·lícula, basada en el text teatral de Sergi Belbel. Pons ha dit que no vol perdre el temps parlant de la polèmica que hi va haver dies enrere a Rojals, una població valenciana on l'alcalde va censurar l'obra original de Belbel que preparava una escola municipal de teatre.




Forasters" situa una mateixa família en dos períodes diferents. Un, al segle XX i l'altre, al XXI. I en cada etapa viu un fet traumàtic. Primer, la pèrdua d'un dels seus membres i com els afecta. I l'altra, l'arribada d'uns nous veïns, forasters, que trastoquen l'harmonia familiar per la por al desconegut. El text atrapa, segons Ventura Pons, perquè transmet emoció.

Destaquen les interpretacions de Joan Pera, en el seu primer paper dramàtic al cinema i molt ben caracteritzat pel maquillatge, i el d'Anna Lizaran, que ja va representar el seu personatge en l'obra teatral de Sergi Belbel.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

L'Heure d'été


L'Heure d'été (Summer Hours) is the second in a series of films produced by Musee d'Orsay, after Le Voyage du Ballon Rouge. In the film two brothers and a sister witness the disappearance of their childhood memories when they must relinquish the family belongings to ensure their deceased mother’s succession.

The film was known under the working titles Souvenirs du Valois and Printemps Passé

Principal photography began in Paris on June 4th and was completed Friday July 27, 2007.

The film received its United States premiere at the 46th New York Film Festival on October 1st, 2008 in New York.

This small, impeccably civilised drama of familial inheritance recalls the late great works of master miniaturist Claude Sautet.


A beloved matriarch dies, leaving her three adult children to argue over the valuable collection of paintings and furniture she has bequeathed to them. The oldest brother (Charles Berling) clings to the old house and the two Corots that will have to be sold, while his far-flung siblings (Juliette Binoche, Jérémie Renier) have stronger attachments to their careers in America and Asia respectively.

The problems of an haut-bourgeois family might seem trivial in world terms, but Olivier Assayas's script asks deeper questions about ownership and the public purpose of art. Berling, as the melancholy nostalgist standing, Canute-like, before the waves of change, is especially good.






Summer Hours (aka L'Heure d'été) a quiet, carefully observed movie by writer-director Olivier Assayas, a former Cahiers du cinéma critic. He's returned to the subtle French film of bourgeois life once vilified by the Cahiers critics who became movie-makers as the Nouvelle Vague. The great Edith Scob plays Hélène, a gracious, egocentric septuagenarian who has worshipped her uncle, a moderately distinguished figurative artist, and turned his fading country house into a shrine. Along the way, she has looked down on her late husband, a heating engineer, and consistently undermined the confidence of her three children, Frédéric (Charles Berling), a professor of economics in Paris, Jérémie (Jérémie Renier), a business executive working in China, and Adrienne (Juliette Binoche), a designer living in New York.

The movie carefully calibrates the family's emotional reactions to Hélène in her lifetime and then to her death, burial and the handling of her estate. Should they turn her house into a museum celebrating their great uncle? Or should they sell it off, along with a few exquisite pieces of Modernist furniture, a pair of Corots and some lesser works? The story is satisfactorily resolved, with an unexpected end in which Hélène's grandchildren make an ironic use of her former home. All her possessions in the film were lent by the Musée d'Orsay.






Olivier Assayas's new film is not a radical departure from his previous work, but the differences are nonetheless striking. It has a mature look and feel, made by an artist completely at ease with the medium. Without striving for effect, Assayas is happy to let the material speak for itself. And what a magnificent achievement it is. L'Heure d'été deals with ideas of tradition and family heritage, using a house and a garden as a metaphor for cultural memory.

Incisively written, superbly acted by some of France's finest performers and boasting a delicately understated approach to the subject matter, Assayas's new film moves effortlessly through its narrative with all the grace of Renoir at the height of his powers.

Hélène (Edith Scob) lives in a rambling mansion full of art: Corot landscapes, Redon panels, a variety of rare and valuable objects, and her own uncle's paintings. On her seventy-fifth birthday, her three grown children arrive to celebrate the happy milestone. Frédéric (Charles Berling) is an economist. The younger son, Jérémie (Jérémie Renier, also in this year's Le Silence de Lorna), has relocated to Shanghai with his family, where he manufactures running shoes. And finally, there is the dark and brooding Adrienne (Juliette Binoche), a successful designer who now lives in New York.

Assayas assembles this group and then delicately begins to explore them as individuals. Events force Hélène's children to make a series of decisions that have everything to do with their shared sense of the past. What to do with all of these memories and objects that define them and in a sense create their identity? Can this all be discarded? What at first appears to be a simple decision that they make together turns into something much thornier. As unexpected emotions surface among the siblings, they discover that they have changed, and now aspire to different things. How these tensions are resolved is the subject of this intimate drama. L'Heure d'été is a work of great lyrical power, and Assayas shows an extraordinary control of place and character, bringing the two into a beautiful harmony.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Trans-siberian




If you have to ask yourself what it means when they say “Dramatic Competition” at the Sundance Film Festival, you may want to check out Brad Anderson’s Transsiberian, which has quite a bit to offer to audiences looking to get a little Americans in bad situations abroad tension in their lives.

The last time we saw Brad Anderson, he was directing Christian Bale in one of his more incomparable roles in The Machinist. With Transsiberian, Anderson gives us the tale of married couple Roy (Woody Harrelson) and Jessie (Emily Mortimer) who are traveling from a church-led mission in China to Moscow along the Transsiberian railway. Along the way, they meet up with young freeloaders Carlos (Eduardo Noriega, The Devil’s Backbone) and Abby (Kate Mara, Shooter) who are traveling to Amsterdam. All seems to be going fine, but when Roy accidentally missed the train at one stop and is separated from his wife, all hell seems to break loose. Jessie soon finds out that Carlos and Abby aren’t your average tourists, but may be a pair of drug runners. Add to this the fact that a Russian Narcotics Agent (Ben Kingsley) is hot on their trail, and Jessie is forced to take action and try to survive as she and Roy are pulled deeper and deeper into a web of deception, violence and drug trading.





The real moral of the story here is that if you are an American tourist traveling through Russia, don’t trust anyone. The film delivers the very tense and often frightening reality of Roy and Jessie’s situation very well. It build throughout the entire film, leaving the audience engaged in how deeply the trouble will run. The cinematography is what really sells it, at least for me. Brad Anderson and cinematographer Xavi Giménez create a very grim, dirty vision of Siberia, drawing us into a country that was once alive, but is now dead and buried beneath six feet of corruption.

The performances were solid as well, with none more impressive than that of Emily Mortimer. As Jessie, she is forced to deal with some very intense situations and ends up trapped between the truth and finding a way to survive. It is an interesting character study, as we never know what we would do if we ended up trapped and in trouble in a place like old Russia. Woody Harrelson also delivers a good performance, shining through in the end as the goofy, but sometimes annoying Roy. His is in many ways a walking cliche, that born-again righteously oblivious midwestern American guy — and in this instance, that is ok. Eduardo Noriega is also creepily reminiscent of someone like Oliver Martinez in Unfaithful — creepy, smooth talking foreign dude who is just looking for a hole in which to stick it.

The films only downfall is that it begins to slow down about a third of the way through. In some ways it feels akin to Babel, but with a bit more intrigue and action toward the end. Well, to be completely honest, it is a lot more interesting than Babel, which bored me to death. To say the least, Transsiberian is worth a look for anyone who enjoys deep drama, an engaging story and a relatable situation — if you have ever tried to traffic drugs through the middle of Russia, that is.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

The Children of Huang Shi




Director Roger Spottiswoode is not averse to taking risks as a filmmaker from Shake Hands with the XDevil to the 1930s-set true story of The Children of Huang Shi. Inspired by true events, The Children Of Huang Shi tells how a young Englishman, George Hogg (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) came to lead sixty orphaned boys on an extraordinary journey of almost a thousand perilous miles across the snow-bound Liu Pan Shan mountains to safety on the edge of the Mongolian desert. And of how, in doing so, he came to understand the true meaning of courage. During his journey, Hogg learns to rely on the support of Chen (Chow Yun Fat), the leader of a Chinese partisan group who becomes his closest friend. He soon finds himself falling in love with Lee (Radha Mitchell), a recklessly brave Australian adventurer whom war has turned into an unsentimental nurse on horseback. Along the way Hogg befriends Madame Wang (Michelle Yeoh), an aristocratic survivor who has also been displaced by war, who helps the young Englishman, his friends and their sixty war orphans make their way across awesome (and rarely filmed) mountain and desert regions to a place of safety near the western end of the Great Wall of China.



Paul Fischer: You don't pick easy subjects for your films what is it about this material that attracted you?

Roger Spottiswoode: Well, if you're going to spend a year of your life on a subject, to me it's much more interesting to find really good subjects and different subjects. And I like films to be different, not the same each time. There may be common themes, but I'd like to find different areas. And I did a film in Rwanda, and a film in China, in the same three-year period. But they're both fascinating people. And actually, they are slightly united in themes, about what can one - personal responsibility and courage. But this guy - you know, Hogg was, I thought, a remarkable guy. And he died at the age of 30. He went to China just to find out about it, and ended up learning Mandarin, and becoming completely involved, and becoming Chinese, in a way.

Paul Fischer: The Rwandan story had a degree of contemporary relevance, because that particular history was still very prevalent, I suppose, in the consciousness of the public. This story, of course, is relatively unknown to much of the world. Is that a challenge for you, to contemporize this piece, and even though it's a historical piece, to make it relevant?

Roger Spottiswoode: Well, in a way, yeah. I guess it is a bit of a challenge. And it's set in a world that nobody really knows anything about. China, at that time, nobody knows very much. They don't really know much about China now. So that did make it more of a challenge. But it's a story of what one person can pull off, with determination and courage. And those things are always relevant. It's one person doing the impossible, or doing the very, very difficult.


Paul Fischer: And it's about a character who undergoes his own personal transformation. I mean, we don't see him as an initially sympathetic character.

Roger Spottiswoode: No, he isn't. He's busy trying to do something entirely different, and doesn't really give a shit about any of this, and then starts to wake up. Goes through a wake-up experience, and starts to change. And those are always - it's interesting to be reminded that people can change. It can do that. Not many of us do, but you can. He sure did. And he died at the age of 29 or 30. So, very, very young.




Paul Fischer: During the metamorphosis of this script, how much historical license did you take? Or is it pretty much as accurate as you'd be able to find it, based on the facts?

Roger Spottiswoode: Well, most of the events sort of happened. But there was much more, because it took longer. Whenever you cover a year of somebody's life, or a couple of years - you know, we just had to shorten it. We had to leave out an awful lot. I mean, even for Shake Hands With the Devil, we were looking at a period of time that was 200 days, and we had to lose an enormous amount of things - somebody's life in 200 days. So this story took longer. But many things happened, again. Hogg died later, but he didn't die the moment he arrived. He started building, again, and did. But they were all the same scenes that we'd already seen when he started. So for a film, it isn't very interesting to say, "Well, he does it all again."


Paul Fischer: Was it difficult for you to figure out what to cut?

Roger Spottiswoode: Yes, it's always hard. You want to put it all in. And then slowly - you've got a script that's 160 pages. And then you know that really, you have to be done at - you know, it's a two-hour film, and not a five-hour film. And that it's very hard to in movies, you can't really do the same thing again and again. Repetition doesn't do so well.


Paul Fischer: Obviously you shot, on location, in China. What were the particular problems that you faced shooting on location?

Roger Spottiswoode: Well, the Gobe Desert and those mountains are extremely difficult. The desert's particularly hard, because it's not - you know, you can sink into it. And we did. Our very first day of shooting, the road had been taken up since we were last there. And still in the dark, we were sent off on a short run that went across the actual desert. And within a quarter of a mile, 50 vehicles had sunk into the desert sand. And the crew just got out - a crew of three or 400 people. We all started collecting pebbles, and we built a little road to get us back together. It was quite astonishing. I think a Western crew, a European crew, would have probably been waiting to be dug out of there by cranes and things. And a Chinese crew just got on with it. And it was a real reminder that this is how China was built. Vast numbers of people just got on with it, and without complaint.

Paul Fischer: So this earthquake must have come as a huge shock to you.

Roger Spottiswoode: Yes, it did. To us and them. But we're seeing some of the same things. A large number of people, some of them soldiers, and then volunteers, are there helping, and at an enormous level.


Paul Fischer: What about casting choices of this. I mean, Jonathan, who is an odd choice to play Henry the Eighth - what did you see in him that made you be convinced that this would be a right fit?

Roger Spottiswoode: Well, I liked him from Bend it Like Beckham, and from Match Point, two very different performances. And then when I met him, I thought he had a kind of youthful - not naiveté, but innocence and energy, and sort of a real sense that he could do things. And he had the right kind of approach to life that I thought was good for Hogg. And I thought from the two films that he really can act. And I'd seen him in a couple of other things, I think. So I thought he's very good. But his essential nature is right for this. And I think I was right about that. He does have this kind of exuberance. And - you know, he paces around the set. He likes to work all the time, you know? He's got all this energy. And he's exactly the same age, and he knows England, and he knows that kind of character.


Paul Fischer: What about Radha, who I think gives one of her best performances?

Roger Spottiswoode: Yeah, she is good. Well, she, too - I mean, I know she's from Australia, and I thought she had a little bit of a rural life, and could sit on a horse well, and is kind of a person who likes to get on with things, and does things. I had met this woman - I had met not the actual person, but a self-taught nurse-doctor who'd been in that war, and had a very direct strength to her. And I thought Radha had that. And they're very interesting characters, and I thought she could pull it off. I thought she did pull it off.


Paul Fischer: There are some extraordinary scenes with these children, particularly during the march, during the big walk. What were the challenges of working with these kids? And how hard was it to wrangle them?

Roger Spottiswoode: Well, we brought them teachers and trainers, and all of that. We had about 30 or 35 at the time. We found most of them - a few came from the Beijing Opera Schools, and they're very, very trained. Like, the guy who's the gardener. They're really trained performers. But the majority of them, the seven to 14-year-olds, are from the schools for undocumented workers. So they come from very tough lives, and they're sort of strong kids. Many of them have very sad faces, as you've probably seen. But they have a real sense of who they are. And I didn't want this just to be a crowd of kids that were kind of faceless Chinese, and they're just a crowd, and we didn't get to know them. Because although they don't all speak, you start to sort of see them as individuals, I think. And so we found, amongst these kids, these undocumented workers, we found very striking little personalities. And we put them together. And they came to the entire shoot. We didn't just sort of do six weeks with the kids. We had them for 15 weeks. And they were there pretty much every day. And - I mean, they would work with us every day. They were part of our crew, and it was really nice, because they're noise and brash and crazy. Then you ask them to be quiet, and they really are quiet. But they're very lively and disciplined at the same time.


Paul Fischer: Was this one of the toughest shoots you've undertaken?

Roger Spottiswoode: Yes, very much so. I wanted to do it with a Chinese crew, because I thought it would be more Chinese if it wasn't just a bunch of Westerners using a backdrop. But it is challenging to work entirely outside your language.


Paul Fischer: And this is an Australian-Chinese co-production, is that correct?

Roger Spottiswoode: Yes.


Paul Fischer: And so you got funding from both governments?

Roger Spottiswoode: We got funding from a Chinese distributor, with the blessing of the Chinese government. And we got a lot of funding from Australia. Some of it was government, and some of it was pre-sales, and things. An enormous amount of help from Australia. They were terrific. And, I mean, we had some Australians working on the film. But largely, hugely, the crew was Chinese. But the Australians were immensely helpful. We spent a lot of money there. We did the post there, and the post-post. They were great.


Paul Fischer: Would you want to shoot another film in Australia?

Roger Spottiswoode: Oh, in a second. I did. In fact, I'd love to shoot a real film in Australia. I shot a short film, which got itself - you're from Australia?


Paul Fischer: I am Australian, yeah.

Roger Spottiswoode: Yeah. I was in Melbourne, and they have the [INAUD] Short Film Festival. So - and I came across, when I was editing, there was a Spanish restaurant I used to go to. It was owned by a family, and the two sons played music and did flamenco several times a week. And they were really, really terrific. So my last day in Australia, I got a little crew together and we made a film. We shot a film. It opened the St Kilda Short Festival this year. I'd love to go back. Yeah, I really would. It's such an interesting place. I'd love to go and do a proper film there.


Paul Fischer: Do you know what you're doing next?

Roger Spottiswoode: I think I'm doing a William Golding novel called The Spire, set in the 14th century.


Paul Fischer: Oh, so another very easy film.

Roger Spottiswoode: Yeah, that's right. Yeah. I keep hoping for a drawing room comedy, you know?


Paul Fischer: I was going to say. You should be - like, a two-hander, like a Noel Coward -

Roger Spottiswoode: Set in Paris, with a very, very long shoot. Yeah. Work vigorously hard from 11 in the morning 'til seven in the afternoon. Yeah, that's exactly what I'm looking for. If you have a script in your hip pocket, send it over immediately. I'll do it first, in a second.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

El Nido Vacio

SAN SEBASTIÁN.- "Siento que tengo cuerda para rato". Así lo ha comentado esta mañana Daniel Burman, el director argentino que ha presentado en el Palacio del Kursaal su filme 'El nido vacío' en la penúltima jornada de la 56ª edición del Zinemaldia donostiarra, acompañado por los productores y los actores principales de esta coproducción hispano-argentina, Cecilia Roth, Arturo Goetz e Inés Efron.

'El nido vacío' narra la situación de crisis por la que pasa un matrimonio argentino tras la marcha de su hija Julia a Israel, visto desde la mirada de Leonardo (Arturo Goetz), un escritor introvertido que no consigue afrontar los cambios por los que atraviesa su vida, mientras que ve cómo su mujer Martha es capaz de superarlo e incluso disfrutar y distraerse retomando sus estudios en la universidad.








La inclusión de dos cuadros musicales en el filme por parte de Burman, a pesar de haber reconocido que odia este género y que le da "vergüenza ajena", supone un contrapunto en el desarrollo de la película y responde según el director, a "la necesidad de encarar el drama desde una perspectiva distinta". De esta manera estos fragmentos se convierten en estrategias para manejar mejor el relato y así, "hacer más liviano y ligero lo doloroso".

Por otro lado, el realizador argentino ha comentado que el paso de realidad y ensoñación en el personaje de Leonardo, responde a una puesta en escena donde el personaje vive su espacialidad con una permanente incomodidad, y ayuda a enfatizar y reflejar la crisis existencial en la que está sumido el personaje. Es cuando Leonardo acepta la situación real en la que está sumido, cuando es capaz de ser realmente feliz.

El cineasta ha comentado que esta película surgió de su particular interés por el vacío que dejan los hijos en la casa de sus padres cuando parten, así como del modo en que las parejas interactúan con estos espacios. "En esta relación entre Martha y Leonardo se traslucen los diferentes caminos que puede tomar una pareja una vez que quedan solos nuevamente", ha afirmado Burman.


Por su parte, Cecilia Roth, una de las actrices argentinas de cine más prestigiosas actualmente y con más trayectoria, se ha mostrado muy halagada de volver al Festival de Cine, al que acudió por primera vez en 1977 y del que guarda "muy buenos recuerdos y anécdotas". De hecho, la actriz ha recordado su paso por San Sebastián con la película 'Laberinto de Pasiones', con la que compartió cartel con Antonio Banderas, el Premio Donostia 2008.

La primera actriz no española en ganar un Goya, ha manifestado estar muy satisfecha de haber trabajado en este proyecto con Daniel Burman, del que ha dicho que "sabe sacar lo mejor de cada uno" además de haber revelado que es "muy divertido".


Daniel Burman

Daniel Burman (born 29 August 1973, Buenos Aires, Argentina) is a film director, screenplay writer, and producer.According to film critic Joel Poblete, who writes for Mabuse, a cinema magazine, Daniel Burman is one of the members of the so-called "New Argentina Cinema" which began c. 1998. Film critic Anthony Kaufman, writing for indieWIRE, an online community of independent filmmakers and aficionados, said Burman's A Chrysanthemum Burst in Cincoesquinas (1998) has been cited as the beginning of the "New Argentine Cinema" wave.




Burman is of Polish-Jewish descent, and he was born and raised in Buenos Aires.

He holds both Argentine and Polish citizenship, like his films' character, Ariel. He studied law before changing to audiovisual media production.

In 1995, he launched his own production company together with Diego Dubcovsky, BD Cine (Burman and Dubcovsky Cine).

Burman is a founding member of the Academy of Argentine Cinema.[4]

His loose trilogy of films, Esperando al Mesías (2000), El Abrazo Partido (2004), and Derecho de Familia (2006), were all written and directed by Burman and star Uruguayan actor Daniel Hendler. They are largely autobiographical, dealing with the life of a young neurotic Jew in contemporary Buenos Aires.

He frequently collaborates with other Argentine Jews, notably writer and klezmer musician Marcelo Birmajer, and César Lerner.

His comedic touches often bring comparison to Woody Allen, a comparison Burman is quick to reject. He said, "It's not a measurable comparison. But I'm very happy with it. I admire him more than anyone else in the world."[5]

Burman's films have been featured in many film festivals around the world. El abrazo partido (2003) took the Grand Jury Prize at the Berlin International Film Festival, as well as best actor for Hendler.

Burman was co-producer of the successful 2004 film, The Motorcycle Diaries, as well as Garage Olimpo (1999).





It is arguable that the loose trilogy of films - Esperando al Mesías (2000), El Abrazo Partido (2003), and Derecho de Familia (2006) - all happen in the same "universe". The three share common traits - they are all written and directed by Burman and all star Daniel Hendler in the title role as a young Jew. Additionally, several actors and actresses appear twice in the films. Because Hendler's characters all share similar traits (they are all named Ariel: Ariel Goldstein, Ariel Makaroff and Ariel Perelman respectively) and because some characters from one film seem to appear in another, the trilogy is usually considered as happening in the same universe. Several continuity problems seem to state, however, that the three Ariels are different persons: in the first movie, Ariel's father is a restaurant owner, and his mother dies; in the second film, his father has been long gone, and his mother tends to a small shop; in the third movie, his father dies in the film, and his mother has been long dead. The Ariels cannot be the same. However, a character named Estela from the first film appears in the second, and is both times played by Melina Petriella. This at least connects the first two movies to the same universe. Additionally, Juan José Flores Quispe appears in the second and third movie as "Ramón". Although his character, unlike Estela, seems to vary from film to film, this seems to suggest that the second and third film also share the same universe, and thus, the trilogy itself is set in the same storyline, with the "Ariel persona" showing either different aspects of the same character or simply being a mere coincidence.





Lost Embrace (Spanish: El abrazo partido) (2004) is an Argentine, French, Italian, and Spanish comedy drama film, directed by Daniel Burman and written by Burman and Marcelo Birmajer. The picture features Daniel Hendler, Adriana Aizemberg, Jorge D'Elía, among others.[1]

The drama was Argentina's official choice for the 2004 Oscar Awards, Foreign Language film category.[2]

The comedy-drama tells of Ariel Makaroff, the grandson of Holocaust-era Polish refugees, who is currently on a complex search for his personal and cultural identity.




Esperando El Mesias


The film takes place in a Jewish community of Buenos Aires.

The picture tells of Ariel (Daniel Hendler), a restaurant waiter and a young man who is torn between his devotion to traditional family ties and the desire for something different, and, of Santamaria (Enrique Piñeyro) an older bank employee who suddenly finds his life in complete turmoil.

Santamaria is unexpectedly fired from his bank job due to the world's stock market shocks. His wife takes this event as an opportunity to get rid of him and put him out on the street.

Forced to make a small living returning stolen wallets, Santamaria finds some hope in a bathroom attendant (Stefania Sandrelli) who is waiting for her husband to be released from prison.

Ariel is very much against the restraints of a future that will see him take over his elderly father's (Héctor Alterio) restaurant and marry a nice Argentine Jewish girl (Melina Petriella).

At the same time, Ariel is also attracted to a sexy co-worker, Laura (Chiara Caselli), who tells him she's a lesbian.





Derecho De Familia


The film tells the story of Ariel Perelman (Daniel Hendler). While he has an easy going lifestyle, he's trying to find his way in life in Buenos Aires, Argentina. He works at a university as a law professor. The film begins with a long narration of the way things stand in his life. He describes his father, Bernardo Perelman (Arturo Goetz), in quite detail. Perelman, as he's known, is a popular public defender who meets his clients where they work or in restaurants so he can determine what they are "all about." Most of his clients are generally poor. He's very close to his secretary (Adriana Aizemberg) since his wife passed away fifteen years ago. Work fills Perelman's days, and Ariel is astonished by his energy.

After lusting after Sandra (Julieta Díaz), an attractive woman who takes his class, Ariel decides to chase her and takes the Pilates class she teaches. Not much happens until Sandra is sued for teaching Pilates without the approval of the company who hold the rights to teach Pilates in Argentina. Ariel (known as Perelman to Sandra) reaches out to his father for help and succeeds in winning the law suit.

In the process Sandra falls in love with the younger Perelman and they marry. She begins to decorate their home for a few years and they have a child they name Gaston (Eloy Burman), who turns out a quite charming young boy. She also starts to teach Pilates in their apartment.

Ariel's office building is shut down for a month because it had collapsed, and he is given some time off. However, he doesn't share this news with his wife. During this time his father starts spending some quality time with Ariel, which makes him think something must be wrong. Ariel is asked by the Swiss kindergarten school were Gaston attends to participate in a play and swim classes with the other fathers. Ariel first rebels but gives in.

The film ends with his father's death and burial and a long introspective look at Ariel Perelman's life in his 30's something.





Saturday, October 25, 2008

Happy Go Lucky

Happy-Go-Lucky is a 2008 film by Mike Leigh, shot in 2007 and released on 18 April 2008. It is a contemporary comedy, set in north London and starring Sally Hawkins.


Poppy (Sally Hawkins) is a life-loving, irrepressibly cheerful, Pollyanna-type primary school teacher who is thirty years old, single, and infinitely optimistic and accepting. She lives with her best friend and flatmate Zoe (Alexis Zegerman) in London. She is tested by a repressed driving instructor with anger problems (Eddie Marsan), and tests him in turn. She has exciting flamenco lessons, an encounter with a homeless man, a row with her pregnant sister, and a love-affair with the social worker guiding one of her students.



Happy-Go-Lucky received overwhelmingly positive reviews from critics. As of 18 October 2008, the review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes reported that 95% of critics gave the film positive reviews based on 76 reviews, giving the film a "Certified Fresh" rating, with the consensus that the film is "a light-hearted comedy with moments that bite, and features a brilliant star turn by Sally Hawkins.."[1] Metacritic reported the film had an average score of 82 out of 100.





Sally Hawkins is a real delight in Mike Leigh’s new film as Poppy, a 30-year-old Londoner with a bubbly nature and an ever-present laugh that teeters between lovable and annoying. Hawkins’ performance, and Leigh’s harnessing of it, is a tease: when we first see Poppy, cycling through the West End and joking with a grumpy bookshop assistant before joining her friends for a late-night drunken session, we don’t know what to make of her. She’s loud, joyful and indulges in terrible jokes; surely there’s something wrong with her?

The trick that Leigh and Hawkins finally pull off so cleverly by the end of 'Happy-Go-Lucky’ is that we’re entirely in cahoots with her. Poppy is a mirror to us all: if we find her blind optimism and sunny nature hard to swallow, perhaps there’s something wrong with us instead? By then, too, we know that Poppy is not the blinkered soul we may first think: she is compassionate, perceptive and harbours her own sadnesses like the rest of us.

Leigh always finds plot in character, and ‘Happy-Go-Lucky’ is more of a portrait than a story; a film that’s built around one performance. He is less concerned here, unlike, say, ‘Secrets & Lies’ and ‘Vera Drake’, with following a driving narrative than with minutely observing Poppy through her relationships with others, whether it’s the kids she teaches at her primary school, her repressed driving instructor (Eddie Marsan, excellently playing a heavy-duty bag of hang-ups), her close friend and flatmate Zoe (Alexis Zegerman) or her older, more settled colleague Heather (Sylvestra Le Touzel), whom she joins at flamenco lessons after work. In that sense, it’s comparable to ‘Naked’.

It’s a study in sadness versus happiness, a study in teachers and the taught, a study in how we carry with us everyday the burdens of what we have and haven’t learned. You know you’re watching something both delightfully light-footed and acutely meaningful when Leigh moves so nimbly between scenes at Poppy’s school, her flamenco class and her driving lessons. There’s also a wonderfully moving scene, darker and more poetic in tone, when Poppy encounters a tramp late at night. It’s a funny film – a surprise perhaps after ‘Vera Drake’ – and, crucially, it aches with truth.

Terror’s Advocate

Since his 1969 film More, Schroeder has filmed Ugandan dictator Idi Amin Dada and writer Charles Bukowski, driven by his sustained interest in “monsters.” Vergès is one of them: a flamboyant and enigmatic figure, famous for his defense of the indefensible.

“[Vergès] became a lawyer by accident,” says Lionel Duroy, a journalist for Libération who investigated Vergès during the Klaus Barbie trial. After taking part in the Resistance during World War II, Vergès was appointed to defend an Algerian female bomber (like in Pontecorvo’s film, The Battle of Algiers). “I understand the Algerians’ struggle, and I do not condemn their violence,” he said. Vergès called on international help to save his client, Djamila Bouhired, who became the face of the Algerian Revolution. Had she been executed, he would have shot somebody, Vergès said. Instead, she was pardoned, and he married her.





The outspoken young Communist lawyer became known for his eccentric methods. Insulting judges, singing and waving flags, Vergès developed a dramatic persona. The son of a French father and Vietnamese mother, he was “born angry, born colonized.” Vergès used the court of justice as a tribunal and a stage to expose his anger.

Considering “[today’s] Palestinian is yesterday’s Algerian,” in 1968 and 1969 he defended the Palestinian fedayeen responsible for two El Al Israel Airlines attacks — and became the superhero for the cause of the oppressed. Vergès has said that for him, an acquittal is not the goal — rather, the goal is to expose the colonial crimes of Western nations.

Vergès’ full biography remains a mystery — he went missing between 1970 and 1978, during which time, rumors suggest, he joined Pol Pot in Cambodia, went to Vietnam, or acted as a secret agent for the French government. Schroeder’s rigorous investigation reveals Vergès’ involvement with Congolese dictator Moïse Tschombé. Vergès’ prolonged absence coincides with the emergence of Waddi Haddad’s international terrorist network, financed in part by a former Swiss Nazi, François Genoux, who supported the National Liberation Front in Algeria and Palestinian resistance movements, and is a close acquaintance of Vergès.





“Vergès’ trajectory grew ever more incomprehensible to me,” says the director, “but I always dreamt of knowing more about this character, whom I viewed also as a perverse and decadent aesthete.” Using archive footage and extensive interviews with the lawyer, his entourage and several former terrorists, Schroeder does a fine job at rendering the complexity and the many facets of Vergès’ personality — that of a refined provocateur and great storyteller who loves the spotlight. Although Schroeder conceived it entirely like a work of fiction, the film is still both stimulating and destabilizing, neither denouncing nor endorsing the disturbing character it portrays.

Lionel Duroy says, “[Vergès] should have or could have been a terrorist.” In fact, the film reveals his ties with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine — financed German terrorist “Carlos The Jackal.”

Ultimately, Vergès’ opacity could have jeopardized the film, the way an unfinished puzzle only answers part of the central question: Why does Vergès do what he does, systematically? It is clear from the beginning that his posture denounces both the establishment and the illusion of moral comfort given by the (necessary) trials of terrorists. However, his initial post-colonial stance wears thin. Little by little, we find out Vergès lost faith in political models. Resistance as a motif became sufficient. In the end, his unconditional support for all activity classified as terrorism justifies his nebulous involvement with Holocaust denialists and dictators of all kinds.

“What thrilled me most,” says Schroeder, “was the opportunity, through Vergès, to make a film about contemporary history, about our experience of the last 50 years.” Also the story of world terrorism told through this film, by one man who connects the dots, makes it a breathtaking thriller indeed.

Schroeder confirms that the last time he and Vergès met after the film was made, the infamous lawyer hadn’t lost his cynicism: “[Vergès] says that I am treacherous and he is my victim.”

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Los Girasoles Ciegos

Orense, 1940. Cada vez que Elena cierra la puerta de casa, echa la llave a sus secretos. Su marido, Ricardo, amenazado por una despiadada persecución ideológica, lleva años escondido en el piso donde conviven con sus hijos: Elenita y Lorenzo. Salvador, un diácono desorientado tras su lucha en el frente, vuelve al seminario de Orense. Las dudas en la vocación del joven llevan al Rector a retrasar su acceso al sacerdocio durante un año. Mientras, Salvador dará clases en el colegio donde estudia Lorenzo, el hijo de Elena, a quien Salvador cree viuda. El diácono se obsesiona con ella y la acosa. La frágil realidad de la familia se tambalea.
Heridos y zarandeados por las circunstancias, se golpean contra un muro de represión, amores imposibles y derrotas emocionales, mientras buscan un resquicio para volver a la vida.




El Patio De Mi Carcel

A story about women, about female inmates, excluded from life. It is the story of Isa, a caustic yet generous thief unable to adapt to life outside prison, and her friends. Dolores, a blonde gypsy who killed her husband; Rosa, a tender fragile prostitute; Ajo, in love with Pilar, who lives her love to unbearable limits; Luisa, a naive Colombian surprised by an environment she doesn’t understand... The arrival of Mar, a prison worker who doesn’t adjust to the rules of the institution, embarks the women on a journey towards freedom. With the help of Adela, the prison director, they create Módulo 4, the theatre group that will provide them with the energy they need to cope with life’s hard knocks.

Burn After Reading




Burn After Reading is a 2008 dark comedy[1] film written, produced and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen. The film stars John Malkovich, George Clooney, Tilda Swinton, Frances McDormand and Brad Pitt. It was released in the USA on September 12, 2008 and will be released on October 17, 2008 in the UK. The R-rated film had its premiere on August 27, 2008 when it opened the 2008 Venice Film Festival.[2] The film is the brothers' first to follow their Academy Award winning Best Picture, No Country for Old Men.





Osbourne Cox (John Malkovich) is a CIA analyst who quits his job at the agency after being demoted ostensibly because of his drinking problem. He then decides to write a memoir about his life in the CIA. His wife, pediatrician Katie Cox (Tilda Swinton), wants to divorce Osbourne and, at the counsel of her divorce lawyer, she copies many of his personal and financial files off his computer and onto an optical disc. Katie's divorce lawyer's receptionist accidentally leaves the disc at Hardbodies, a workout gym. An employee of the gym, Chad Feldheimer (Brad Pitt) obtains the disc from the gym's custodian and ascertains that it contains classified government information. Along with his fellow employee Linda Litzke (Frances McDormand), he intends to use the disk to blackmail Osbourne; Linda wants the money to pay for cosmetic surgery. They call up Cox in the middle of the night, but he is not receptive. When blackmailing him fails, Linda decides to take the information to the Russian embassy. At the embassy, she hands the disk over to the Russians, promising that she will give more information afterwards. Because Linda and Chad don't have any more information, they decide to break into Cox's house.

Katie's lover is Treasury agent Harry Pfarrer (George Clooney), who by chance meets Linda online and begins dating her as well. Chad stakes out the Coxes' house and breaks in when Harry and Katie leave. Harry, however, comes back, finds Chad, and accidentally shoots him in the face. Harry, thinking that Chad was a spy due to his lack of documentation, disposes of the body. Days later, his paranoia increasing after murdering Chad, Harry leaves the Cox residence after a fight with Katie. On his way to leave he manages to tackle a man who has been trailing him for some time, thinking he was working for the CIA or some other government agency. After tackling him, Harry finds out that the man is working for a divorce firm hired by his wife who, it is later revealed, has been cheating on him as well. Harry is devastated and goes to see an agitated Linda who confides in Harry that her friend Chad is missing; he agrees to try to help. The next morning, Harry and Linda meet in a park and she provides him with more information about Chad's disappearance. When he realizes that Chad is the man he killed, he becomes paranoid and flees in terror, assuming that Linda is also a spy.

Osbourne had previously returned to his home only to find that Katie changed the locks as part of her preparations for divorce proceedings. He sleeps overnight in his boat, and the next day breaks into his own house with a hatchet. There he finds Ted Treffon (Richard Jenkins), the manager of Hardbodies, rifling through his computer looking for personal information. Due to his feelings for Linda, Ted decided to look for more information to give to the Russians, believing that the Russians had kidnapped Chad. Osbourne shoots Ted, who survives and runs out of the house. Osbourne grabs the hatchet and kills Ted in broad daylight.

The movie ends by returning to the CIA's headquarters, where an official (David Rasche) and his director (J.K. Simmons) are trying to sort out what happened: Chad is dead, Ted is dead, Osbourne is in a vegetative state and dying after being shot by an agent while attacking Ted, Harry has been arrested trying to board a flight to Venezuela (but the CIA wants to let him leave anyway so he's out of their hair), and Linda has agreed to cooperate in exchange for the CIA financing her plastic surgery. The baffled CIA agents then decide that they have learned their lesson: to never repeat whatever it is that they did in this case; though they are still not clear what it is they did.

Se había generado una lógica expectación por ver el nuevo trabajo de los hermanos por antonomasia del cine norteamericano –quizá del mundial; a fin de cuentas, ¿quién se acuerda a estas alturas de los Lumière?–, algo comprensible dado el éxito de la anterior (y magnífica) No es país para viejos (2007). Pues bien; Quemar después de leer es nada más (y nada menos) que una descacharrante parodia a mayor gloria de la estupidez supina donde la ligereza se combina ejemplarmente con la mala leche y el proverbial humor negro.


Algo no precisamente novedoso, por otra parte. No hay más que echar un vistazo a la compacta filmografía de los Coen para observar que la alternancia entre noir y comedia ha devenido en una constante, ya desde los seminales tiempos de Sangre fácil (1985) y Arizona baby (1987), si bien su evolución como cineastas les ha llevado a incorporar elementos de ambos géneros, primorosamente mezclados, en Fargo (1995) o El Gran Lebowski (1998). De hecho, el carácter ciertamente marciano de está última está presente en su nueva película, que huye de las coartadas referenciales que constituían la principal razón de ser de Crueldad intolerable (2003) o The Ladykillers (2004) para centrarse en el inmisericorde retrato de un grupo de tarados cuya inteligencia, más que “relativa”, es inexistente.

De hecho, si algo resulta evidente es que los diferentes personajes que articulan la trama han sido escritos, como aclaran los propios Joel y Ethan en el pressbook del filme, pensando en los actores y actrices que finalmente los han interpretado. De esta manera la tibieza del mcguffin argumental, que se apoya en un escurridizo CD con información relativa al funcionamiento de la CIA que todos esperan poseer por motivos bien diferentes, da pie a una auténtica exhibición de registros cómicos más o menos histriónicos, de los white trash encarnados con acierto por Frances McDormand, Richard Jenkins y un sorprendente Brad Pitt (pasadísimo de revoluciones) a los más acomodados –pero no por ello menos estupidos– personajes de George Clooney (en las antipodas de sus anteriores colaboraciones con los Coen), Tilda Swinton y John Malkovich.


Que la película comience con un prolongado zoom desde la superficie planetaria a las interioridades de la sede de la CIA ya nos está indicando claramente lo que va a venir a continuación. Partiendo de la fatuidad de Osborn (Malkovich) y del insondable funcionamiento de los servicios ¿secretos? se van a ir encadenando una serie de situaciones que tienen en común la total estulticia con que se plantean hoy en día las relaciones humanas –de pareja, amistad o trabajo–, ya sea por pura insatisfacción o por un exceso de narcisismo mal entendido. No es casual que los protagonistas tengan cuanto menos los 40 años cumplidos, y que la sensación de no encajar en unos modelos físicos (McDormand) o sociales (Clooney) les lleve a actuar de manera insensata, sin duda por no asumirse tal cual son en realidad. De esta manera, y más allá de los excesos de todo tipo a que se ven abocados, a un servidor le generaron más lástima que otra cosa esta panda de losers descerebrados, sobretodo desde el momento en que, mediado el metraje, los hermanísimos tiran de su característico humor negro, mostrándonos las consecuencias de sus temerarios actos.

Es posible que tras las mieles de No es país para viejos (2007) muchos esperaran más de lo mismo, y que se vean decepcionados por una comedia ligera y (en apariencia) intrascendente. Allá cada cual; lo mejor que se puede decir de Quemar después de leer es que no puede ser más coherente con el ideario fílmico de los Hermanos Coen, tiene bastante más miga de lo que parece y, lo más importante, apela a la “inteligencia” de su potencial espectador. Un motivo más que sobrado para paladearla lentamente.


FICHA TÉCNICA: Burn after Reading. USA. 2008. 100 minutos. Dirección: Joel Coen y Ethan Coen. Guionistas: Joel Coen y Ethan Coen. Productores: Joel Coen y Ethan Coen. Productores ejecutivos: Tim Bevan, Eric Fellner, Robert Graf. Director de fotografía: Emmanuel Lubezki, ASC, AMC. Diseño de producción: Jess Gonchor. Montaje: Roderick Jaynes. Música: Carter Burwell. Con: George Clooney (Harry Pfarrer), Frances McDormand (Linda Lizke), John Malkovich (Osborn Cox), Tilda Swinton (Katie Cox), Richard Jenkins (Ted Treffon), Brad Pitt (Chad Feldheimer).

SINOPSIS: El analista Osborn Cox llega al cuartel general de la Agencia Central de
Inteligencia (CIA) en Arlington, Virginia, para una reunión ultrasecreta. Por desgracia para él, el secreto no tarda en salir a la luz: le han despedido. Cox no encaja muy bien la noticia y regresa a su casa de Georgetown, Washington DC, para entregarse a la redacción de sus memorias y a la bebida –el orden no altera el producto–. Su esposa Katie está consternada, aunque no parece muy sorprendida. ya hace tiempo que tiene una aventura con Harry Pfarrer, un agente federal casado, y empieza a hacer planes para dejar a Cox por Harry.

En un barrio a las afueras de la capital, en un mundo totalmente diferente, Linda Litke, empleada de Hardbodies Fitness Center, tiene dificultad para concentrarse en su trabajo. Sólo piensa en hacerse la cirugía plástica total y decide confiar su plan a su compañero Chad. Linda no se da cuenta de que Ted Treffon, el director del centro, está loco por ella y se cita con otros hombred a través de Internet.

La Sconoscuita




The Italian director Giuseppe Tornatore is best known for sweet, touching art house-friendly movies that send people away feeling gooey and cuddly. It's awfully tough to be a human being and resist his delightful Oscar-winning hit Cinema Paradiso (released in 1990). His film Malena (2000) had more detractors, but I found its images of a beautiful woman walking through the streets (with every eye following her every move) quite powerful and affecting. He once even made a movie with the life-affirming title Everybody's Fine. So when I sat down to Tornatore's new film, The Unknown Woman (his first since Malena), I was ready to be charmed. Instead, the film that actually unfurled was a restless, panicked, devastating emotional roller coaster, meticulously planned and executed like a razor.







Thinking back, I realized that there was more to Tornatore than his reputation suggests. In 2002, Miramax released the much longer director's cut of Cinema Paradiso with its rating tellingly changed from a PG to an R. A few years ago I tracked down an imported DVD of the director's cut of Malena, which was also considerably darker and more pointed; the Weinsteins were really the ones responsible for the softness of those films. I also remembered a movie called A Pure Formality (1994) about a police investigator (Roman Polanski) questioning a mystery man (Gerard Depardieu) found stumbling along the road; most of the film takes place in a damp, sinister police station with flashbacks to what might have happened previously. That tone gets closer to what's going on in The Unknown Woman, which starts with a knockout centerpiece performance by Kseniya Rappoport.





She plays a woman called Irena, who comes to Italy from the Ukraine looking for work. By paying a concierge part of her salary, she gets a job cleaning an affluent apartment building. She befriends Gina (Piera Degli Esposti), a nanny for an upper-crust couple, Valeria (Claudia Gerini) and Donato Adacher (Pierfrancesco Favino), and their daughter Thea (Clara Dossena). Irena deliberately trips Gina on the long stairwell and takes over Gina's job. She tries to win over Thea while casing the apartment, looking for access to the family safe. Very often, Irena suffers uncomfortable flashbacks to her terrible past, serving a pimp-like thug called "Mold" (Michele Placido) and attempting to break away from him when she falls in love with one of her johns. Tornatore reveals more and more details as the film goes on. In one flashback Irena digs through the filth in a city dump. What's she looking for? I had a guess, but I was wrong.

Tornatore begins his film with what looks like an outtake from Eyes Wide Shut, with masked, naked women posing for some unseen voyeur. After several candidates are surveyed, Irena is chosen, which is presumably the beginning of all her trouble. Critics who saw only the Miramax-ed Malena accused Tornatore of ogling beautiful women with no other purpose in mind, and this opening shot may bring up the same accusations again. But here, as with Malena, the focus remains on the women, not on the voyeurs. We follow the masked Irena out of the scene and watch her as she removes her mask, her eyes defiant and determined. In the flashbacks, she is a dirty blonde, very often victimized, pleading, submitted to rape and other forms of torture. The new Irena, 32, with a mound of tightly curled black hair, is not so easy to catch off guard. She was once beautiful, but her face has now weathered through pain and hard-earned wisdom.

The Italy we see here is covered with graffiti and no place appears to be safe or comfortable. Irena's apartment is ransacked (someone is looking for money) and left in a complete shambles throughout the film. Tornatore shoots low so that we can see the ceiling boards torn asunder. In another scene, a driving lesson occurs at night, with large numbers of pedestrians walking around the car in the half-light, while poor Irena suffers jarring flashbacks while trying to keep her eyes on the road. Tornatore's camera is constantly pacing and roaming, as if filled with pent-up energy and finding no place to spend it. Miraculously, he avoids the typical hand-held, shaky approach, which, these days, is used to signify chaos. Editor Massimo Quaglia keeps up with this restlessness perfectly, never disrupting it or breaking the flow, and legendary composer Ennio Morricone provides another effective, unobtrusive score.

Even Irena's relationship with little Thea is fraught with disaster. Thea suffers from a condition that prevents her from protecting herself when she falls; the natural reflex to put out her hands is missing. So Thea's every move comes with a dreadful anticipation and more than once she turns up bloodied and crying. Irena tries to train her by binding her hands, pushing her down on pillows and forcing her to get up again. How this was supposed to work I have no idea, and indeed, there is more than one logic-challenged scene in the movie, but like the violent crime ("giallo") films of his countrymen Dario Argento and Mario Bava, Tornatore's The Unknown Woman gets by on sheer guts and style.

Deux Jours A Tuer




Asusta echar la cuenta de todas las películas que insisten cada temporada en que redecoremos nuestra vida, superemos nuestras inhibiciones y aprendamos a soñar despiertos, bailemos bajo la lluvia y caminemos descalzos por el parque. ¿Tan mal están las cosas en la realidad? ¿Tanto oprime lo mejor de nosotros mismos cuanto nos rodea? ¿Por qué, entonces, el noventa por ciento de esas ficciones catárticas son finalmente sólo analgésicas, productos que amagan cuestionar el orden establecido de las cosas para luego llenarnos los ojos de miel y dejarnos más ciegos y edulcorados que cuando entramos en la sala?

¿Por qué películas como Mi Vida es mi Vida, Happiness, El Club de la Lucha o La Edad de la Ignorancia son desconocidas, cuando no repudiadas, por el gran público, siendo con los defectos que se quiera propuestas que aventuran una ruptura verdadera con las convenciones a las que achacamos nuestros males? ¿Por qué en cambio tienen tanto predicamento imbecilidades absolutas que revelan en cada uno de sus rasgos ser parte del problema que pretenden denunciar? Cavila uno por qué nunca deja de estar vigente esa mentalidad bonancible que elude combatir la realidad a favor de la posición autoexculpatoria de víctima, de cervatillo incapaz de hacer otra cosa que ocultarse en el País de las Piruletas, El Señor de los Anillos o la Constitución Española incluso cuando está siendo enculado salvajemente por este valle de lágrimas… sin percibir o soslayando que su actitud es ideal como vaselina. ¿O será que la servidumbre compensa, que se ha aprendido a sacar tajada de ella?





Bien es cierto que sin ninguna sutileza, lo cual por otra parte es lógico teniendo en cuenta que para derribar murallas se precisa artillería pesada, durante sus primeros minutos Dejad de quererme funciona muy bien como requisitoria contra las imposturas de lo cotidiano. Antoine (un más que correcto Albert Dupontel) se cansa un día de perder tiempo y energías con gente que no merece ni una cosa ni otra: deja su trabajo como publicitario, asqueado por las mentiras que vendía y compraba diariamente; corta las alas a su insoportable suegra, trata a sus dos hijos como adultos, pone en tela de juicio la aséptica perfección de su matrimonio, devuelve un bofetón a una calientabraguetas, y se libra de sus amigos con una táctica tan sencilla como es la de señalarles sus incoherencias y rememorar cuántos actos han definido la calidad de la correspondiente relación (impecable al respecto la secuencia de la cena). “¿Qué te pasa, Antoine?”, claman su mujer y sus conocidos, “¿Te has vuelto loco? Todos te queremos bien”. Y Antoine podría responder lo que el inteligente título español de la película —el original, Deux jours à tuer, menos sutil, sería traducible como Dos días que matar—: “Dejad de quererme. No me chantajeéis con eso que llamáis amor y no es más que intercambio de miedos y complicidades”.




Pero el guionista y director de Dejad de quererme no es Todd Solondz. Ni siquiera Denys Arcand, por mucho que la actriz Marie-Josée Croze (Cécile, la mujer de Antoine) apareciese también en Las Invasiones Bárbaras. Sino Jean Becker, un tipo dotado de una “humanidad deliciosa […] cuyas películas tienen en común una gran sensualidad”. También, ya es coincidencia, una descarada comercialidad, basada, en el caso sin ir más lejos de su anterior cinta, Conversaciones con mi jardinero (2007), en una desvergonzada afectación ideológica y emocional. La misma que se desata a partir de cierto momento en Dejad de quererme, devolviendo la ficción al redil. La actitud de Antoine estaba motivada por razones nobles, además sufrió mucho de pequeño… el espectador asiste atónito a la conversión de la historia en un melodrama insultantemente burgués y repleto de “buenas intenciones”, que ya sabemos adonde conducen: a un infierno de melaza, que sólo podríamos quitarnos de encima devorándola hasta asimilarla o eliminándola con ácido; desgraciadamente, el nuevo proyecto de Solondz continúa sin encontrar financiación suficiente como para concretarse. Así que es de suponer que habremos de tragar durante la espera unas cuantas toneladas más de azúcar. Aunque a nadie le amarga un dulce, lo que no es de recibo es tener que resignarse a acabar con el cerebro tumorado por las caries. Pese a que muchos lo consideren el estado ideal para transitar por la vida.

FICHA TÉCNICA: Deux jours à tuer. Francia, 2008. 85 minutos. Dirección: Jean Becker. Guión: Jean Becker, Jérôme Beaujour, Eric Assous y François D’Epenoux, basado en la novela de François D’Epenoux. Producción: Louis Becker (ICE3, KJB Production, Studio Canal y France 2 Cinéma). Montaje: Jacques Witta. Fotografía: Arthur Cloquet (c). Música: Patrick & Alain Goraguer. Dirección artística: Thérèse Ripaud. Diseño de vestuario: Annie Périer. Con: Albert Dupontel (Antoine), Marie-Josée Croze (Cécile), Pierre Vaneck (padre de Antoine), Alessandra Martines (Marion), Cristiana Réali (Virginie), Mathias Mlekuz (Eric), Claire Nebout (Clara), François Marthouret (Paul), Anne Loiret (Anne-Laure). Distribución: Golem.

SINOPSIS: Antoine ha llegado a los cuarenta y dos años con buena salud, ejerce como publicista con gran éxito, está casado y es padre de dos hijos, tiene una amante, vive en una bonita casa a las afueras de París y sus vecinos albergan una excelente opinión sobre él. Sin embargo, un día las cosas cambian: Antoine empieza a destruir sistemáticamente lo que ha construido durante años. Basta un fin de semana para que un hombre aparentemente sin problemas eche por la borda trabajo y relaciones afectivas. ¿La crisis de la andropausia? ¿Un ataque de locura?

I've Loved You So Long



I've Loved You So Long (Il y a longtemps que je t'aime) is a 2008 film directed and written by Philippe Claudel, and starring Kristin Scott Thomas and Elsa Zylberstein.

Juliette and the younger Léa are sisters. Juliette has served a long prison sentence, during which Léa never visited her. After being released she starts living with Léa's family, including her husband, his mute father, and their two adopted Vietnamese daughters.




Cual Medea reinsertada en una sociedad a la que no ha dirigido la palabra durante quince años, el personaje de Juliette que interpreta con la cara lavada Kristin Scott Thomas se erige en reclamo cardinal de la francesa Hace mucho que te quiero, primera película dirigida por Philippe Claudel (también novelista de cierto prestigio en el país galo). El encuentro con su hermana menor Léa (Elsa Zylbersetein) y la acogida en su seno familiar —marido, padre del marido y dos hijas adoptivas— marcarán la reconstrucción de Juliette como ser humano obligado a adaptarse a una forzosa convivencia que tenía relegada por su encierro carcelario. Tal transformación marcará el interés de una propuesta que, a pesar de sus notables imperfecciones, mantendrá al espectador inquieto antes de que Claudel lo estropee definitivamente con un aciago desenlace.

Los aspectos más loables de Hace mucho que te quiero son los que permanecen sotto voce: el tabú que depositan las palabras cuyo interior encierran secretos inconfensables, el doloroso recuerdo que transmite el pasado y el miedo al rechazo y la incomprensión gravitan con sigilo en su interior. Pero Claudel no es capaz de evitar tramposas argucias melodramáticas y temerarias salidas de tono a la hora de mostrar la reconversión de la protagonista en un entorno a priori hostil, incluido un final que desbarata el suspense manejado desde el principio y que menosprecia el juicio que el espectador se haya podido formar sobre Juliette, socavado cuando se desvelan las intenciones reales que provocaron la tragedia. No es el hecho en sí el que molesta, sino el modo en que se nos descubre. Tampoco ayuda el retrato simpático y bonachón del policía con el que la protagonista coincide cada quince días en la comisaría, y todavía menos las escenas campestres con los amigos de Léa y su marido en una casa en las afueras, casi de vergüenza ajena en un retrato mayoritariamente hosco y austero, este sí en sintonía con el carácter retraído y ausente de Juliette enunciado desde el primer fotograma. Aceptamos que la esperanza vuelva a tener sentido en su vida, pero no es admisible cómo guionista y director nos la hace vislumbrar.

Al escribir esta reseña me vino a la memoria un trabajo del mexicano Arturo Ripstein que pasó bastante desapercibido en su momento, Así es la vida (2000), el cual sí conseguía mostrar de frente la desesperación humana sin medias tintas. Hace mucho que te quiero nada tiene que ver con este en cuestión de estilo, aunque si hiciéramos un esfuerzo podríamos argumentar como nada franceses esos acordes de guitarra “a lo Gustavo Santaolalla” diseminados por el metraje que sí aportan cierta calidez a la frialdad tonal que caracteriza el film de Claudel. Quedémonos entonces con la mirada amarga, postura silenciosa y rostro sin maquillaje de una convincente Kristin Scott Thomas, verdadero reclamo de una historia que hubiera merecido una mayor introspección psicológica y un menor costumbrismo de salón. Algo así como el cine de Eric Rohmer.


FICHA TÉCNICA: Il y a longtemps que je t’aime. Francia. 2008. 115 minutos. Dirección y guión: Philippe Claudel. Producción: Yves Marmion. Fotografía: Jérôme Alméras (c). Dirección artística: Samuel Deshors. Montaje: Virginie Bruant. Música original: Jean-Louis Aubert. Con: Kristin Scott Thomas (Juliette Fontaine), Elsa Zylberstein (Léa), Serge Hazanavicius (Luc), Laurent Grévill (Michel), Frédéric Pierrot (Capitán Fauré). Distribución: Golem.

Sinopsis: Juliette sale en libertad después de pasar quince años en la cárcel. Durante esos quince años no ha tenido ningún contacto con su familia, que la rechazó. Léa, su hermana menor, la acoge en su casa de Nancy, donde vive con su marido Luc y dos hijas adoptivas. Debido al largo encarcelamiento de Juliette y a su diferencia de edad, las dos mujeres se sienten como dos extrañas.

The Argentine

The Argentine is a 2008 biographical film about Marxist revolutionary Ernesto "Che" Guevara directed by Steven Soderbergh and starring Benicio del Toro as Che. Soderbergh plans to make two films about Che with the other called Guerrilla. The Argentine will focus on the Cuban revolution, from the moment Fidel Castro, Guevara and other revolutionaries landed on the Caribbean island, until they toppled the dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista two years later. Guerrilla will focus on the years following the Cuban revolution. It will begin with Che's trip to the United Nations headquarters in New York City in 1964, until his death in the Bolivian mountains in 1967.

While researching for both films, Soderbergh made a documentary with interviews with many who fought alongside Che in Cuba and Bolivia.[3] Originally, there was one screenplay but the director realized that it needed to be broken up into two films. The original source material for these scripts was Che's diary from the Cuban Revolution and from his time in Bolivia. From there, he drew on interviews with people who knew Che from both of those time periods and read every book available that pertained to both Cuba and Bolivia.

Both films were financed without any American money or distribution deal and Soderbergh remarked, "It was very frustrating to know that this is a zeitgeist movie and that some of the very people who told me how much they now regret passing on Traffic passed on this one too". Wild Bunch, a French production, distribution and foreign sales company put up 75% of the $61.5 million budget for the two films, tapping into a production and acquisition fund from financing and investment company Continental Entertainment Capitol, a subsidiary of the U.S.-based Citigroup. Spain's Telecinco/Moreno Films suppling the rest of the budget.



Soderbergh shot both films back to back over a 90-day period beginning in May 2007 with most of the dialogue in Spanish. According to an interview in Sight and Sound magazine, the original intention was that the first film "will be shot in 16mm anamorphic" because, "it needs a bit of Bruckheimer but scruffier". Soderbergh ultimately opted to shoot both films on early models of the RED One rather than 16mm film, but otherwise kept to his plan of shooting the first film anamorphic, and the second with spherical lenses. The film was shot in Puerto Rico and, according to actor Edgar Ramirez who portrays Ciro Redondo, the cast "were improvising a lot" and describes the project as a "very contemplative movie", shot chronologically.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Das Sichtbare Und Das Unsichtbare





Maria (Hannelore Elsner) y Marquard (Guntram Brattia) son pintores y amantes, con una vida en común. Una vez que Marquard obtiene un importante premio, dotado con una considerable suma de dinero, su creatividad artística se desvanece. Mientras Maria trabaja en una serie de cuadros, Marquard visita a su amigo Gregor, un criador de caballos y filósofo, se acuesta con la angelical Angie y visita a su hija Lucia en varias ocasiones. Marquard y Lucia, que han comenzado una tierna y compasiva relación padre-hija, pasan dos días en un hotel de la costa, decidiendo no hablarse con palabras. Los sentimientos y la comunicación surgirá de un modo muy especial. Maria, que desconoce el paradero y el porqué de la ausencia de Marquard, se da cuenta por sí misma de que su amor se ha terminado.





El arte digno de tal nombre aspira a tomar por asalto los aspectos inaccesibles de lo real, a dejar en evidencia las imposturas aceptadas por el común de los mortales (que por eso odia la cultura: delata su conformismo). “Hay dos mundos muy diferentes. Uno es el de la realidad y de ese no hace falta hablar, es evidente. Pero hay otro que nadie percibe si el artista guarda silencio. Es del que debemos ocuparnos” (Oscar Wilde). Sin embargo, merced a esa apatía que nos consume en cuanto bajamos la guardia, también el arte acaba ciñéndose en muchas ocasiones a convenciones y corsés creativos que lo tornan tan estéril como su objeto de recreación… cuando no cómplice suyo, quizás el crimen más grave que puede cometer un artista con su don.




En tales casos, la representación visible no funciona como guía cifrada a una mayor comprensión de lo invisible. Sino como simulacro. Un modo de ganarse el pan, satisfacer la vanidad, ser digno del aprecio ajeno. ¿Qué pasa cuando el artista toma conciencia de ese fracaso? Es el planteamiento del director germano Rudolf Thome en Lo Visible y lo Invisible. Coincidiendo con el prestigioso premio que obtiene uno de ellos, la relación sentimental entre los pintores Marquard y Maria salta por los aires. Marquard intenta eludir su bloqueo creativo bebiendo, engañando a su amante y experimentando una epifanía íntima en compañía de su hija Lucia. Como reacción, Maria se niega a seguir facturando los cuadros decorativos que le pide su marchante, aborda una nueva obra de estilo muy distinto al suyo habitual, y recupera su pasado affaire con Gregor, un filósofo.




Thome, partícipe veterano y desconocido en España del llamado Nuevo Cine Alemán se revela, en el que había anunciado sería su último largometraje y resumen de sus inquietudes, superficial. Tanto analizando los temperamentos creadores como explorando las corrientes subterráneas que ligan sus experiencias vitales a la inspiración. Rodada con mirada literal, sin énfasis (firma la fotografía el prestigioso Fred Kelemen), en la estela de ese cine de autor que renuncia a trabajarse el material que circula frente a la pantalla y prima el momento como canalizador narrativo, Lo Visible y lo Invisible es víctima de la paradoja con la que abríamos esta reseña: ¿Cómo preocuparnos por las tormentas introspectivas de unos personajes cuando no se aprecia esfuerzo formal por calar en ellos, cuando todo en la imagen es instante y superficie? ¿Cómo transmitirnos el sentido tormentoso y extático de la actividad pictórica cuando para Marquard y Maria no parece suponer sino un divertimento más en el fárrago de banalidades emocionales al que consagran todas sus energías?



Habrá, claro, quien salga con la monserga de que eso es la vida, y que a ella está supeditada la actividad artística, etc etc. El discurso quedará muy bien entre colegas apiñados en una terracita, pero quien lo esgrima demostrará que carece de talentos, salvo para la cháchara y el dejar pasar los días. “El arte es verdad y la verdad es dolor. Por eso en el arte tiene que haber sangre”, escuchábamos en la obra maestra de Jacques Rivette, La Bella Mentirosa; película de argumento conexo a la de Thome, pero en la que temas como el credo artístico y sus limitaciones, la tensión por sublimar lo invisible, la lucha sin cuartel entre los requerimientos del simple existir y los de la creación, la prostitución artística, se concretaban en pantalla con un rigor expositivo muy superior. La sangre deja huella. Las soluciones acuosas, no.


FICHA TÉCNICA: Das sichtbare und das unsichtbare. Alemania, 2007. 118 minutos. Producción, guión y dirección: Rudolf Thome (Moana-Film, en asociación con ARD Degeto Film). Montaje: Dörte Völz-Mammarella. Fotografía: Fred Kelemen (c). Música original: Wolfgang Böhmer. Diseño de producción: Susanna Cardelli. Diseño de vestuario: Katrin Berthold. Con: Guntram Brattia (Marquard Von Polheim), Hannelore Elsner (Maria Döbereiner), Anna Kubin (Lucia), Hansa Czypionka (Gregor), Rufus Beck (Leo Barnstein), Anne Lebinsky (Eleonore), Stephanie Rosse (Angie Angler), Rebecca Rudolph (Sonja), Katia Tchemberdji (Katharina), Oliver Elias (Lucias). Distribución: Sherlock Films.