clique no poster.
Um dia ideal para os peixes-banana e livros e cinema e gibis e nus e ataxia espinocerebelar e 𓋹
domingo, 30 de setembro de 2012
sábado, 29 de setembro de 2012
sexta-feira, 28 de setembro de 2012
quinta-feira, 27 de setembro de 2012
quarta-feira, 26 de setembro de 2012
segunda-feira, 24 de setembro de 2012
domingo, 23 de setembro de 2012
sábado, 22 de setembro de 2012
sexta-feira, 21 de setembro de 2012
quinta-feira, 20 de setembro de 2012
quarta-feira, 19 de setembro de 2012
sobre a tragédia moderna
It so happens that the gangster story is a very suitable vehicle for the particular form of modern tragedy called film noir, which was born from American detective novels. It’s a flexible genre. You can put whatever you want into it, good or bad. And it’s a fairly easy vehicle to use to tell stories that matter to you about individual freedom, friendship, or rather human relationships because they’re not always friendly. Or betrayal, one of the driving forces in American crime novels.
Jean-Pierre Melville
terça-feira, 18 de setembro de 2012
segunda-feira, 17 de setembro de 2012
This is Orson Welles
Peter Bogdanovich: Was it true that one director told you not to call them “movies,” but “motion pictures”?
Orson Welles: Ah, that was a friend of yours, Peter—that was George Cukor, and remember, he was from the New York stage. That probably had something to do with it. Nowadays, I’m afraid the word is rather chic. It’s a good English word, though—“movie.” How pompous it is to call them “motion pictures.” I don’t mind “films,” though, do you?
Peter Bogdanovich: No, but I don’t like “cinema.”
Orson Welles: I know what you mean. In the library of Eleonora Duse’s villa in a little town in Veneto where we’ve been shooting just now [The Merchant of Venice], I found an old book—written in 1915—about how movies are made, and it refers to movie actors as “photoplayers.” How about that? Photoplayers! I’m never going to call them anything else.
Peter Bogdanovich: I have a book from 1929, and they list 250 words to describe a talking picture, asking readers to write in their favorites. And “talkie” was only one of them. Others were things like “actorgraph,” “reeltaux,” and “narrative toned pictures.”
Orson Welles: I went with my father to the world premiere in New York of Warner’s first Vitaphone sound picture, which was Don Juan starring Jack Barrymore. I think it was opening night. It was really a silent, with a synchronized sound track full of corny mood music, horse hooves, and clashing swords. But it was preceded by a few short items of authentic talkies—Burns and Allen, George Jessel telephoning his mother, and Giovanni Martinelli ripping the hell out of Pagliacci. My father lasted about half an hour and then went up the aisle dragging me with him. “This,” he said, “ruins the movies forever.” He never went back to a movie theatre as long as he lived.
domingo, 16 de setembro de 2012
fact
“The ugly fact is books are made out of books. The novel depends for its life on the novels that have been written.”
— Cormac McCarthy
minha educação
“My filmmaking education consisted of finding out what filmmakers I liked were watching, then seeing those films. I learned the technical stuff from books and magazines, and with the new technology you can watch entire movies accompanied by audio commentary from the director. You can learn more from John Sturges’ audio track on the ‘Bad Day at Black Rock’ laserdisc than you can in 20 years of film school. Film school is a complete con, because the information is there if you want it.”
Paul Thomas Anderson
O AMOR PERDIDO
José Marcelo
Ele foi preso em uma tarde nublada: pego enquanto masturbava-se sobre o túmulo de uma antiga amada.
- Sou um homem arruinado, então foda – falou.
sábado, 15 de setembro de 2012
sexta-feira, 14 de setembro de 2012
of their excesses
The seasons long for each other, like men and women, in order that they may be cured of their excesses.
Spring, if it lingers more than a week beyond its span, starts to hunger for summer to end the days of perpetual promise. Summer in its turn soon begins to sweat for something to quench its heat, and the mellowest of autumns will tire of gentility at last, and ache for a quick sharp frost to kill its fruitfulness.
Even winter— the hardest season, the most implacable—dreams, as February creeps on, of the flame that will presently melt it away. Everything tires with time, ad starts to seek some opposition, to save it from itself.
So August gave way to September and there were few complaints.
The Hellbound Heart, Clive Barker