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thaw fish: Film Festival (at home)
all started by a woman. In fact, possibly come from much further back, when the film was often drowned the slap of all vacant channel programming four Sunday Matinee. Children tend to be a broken record in their tastes and I have seen the film as five times. In those days it has been more than ten years. In a way, I decided to keep this material as a beautiful postcard from my childhood, not encourage me to see her again for fear of breaking the totem pole carved by years of idealizations. However, some owners of the symptoms of these days a fart is the particularly regressive, that brings me back to old obsessions. It was then called The SDR fine to see that movie that marked us as a branding in our childhood.
must have been ten or twelve years old when I first saw Who Framed Roger Rabbit. The film already was very stimulating for a child, making as any other of its kind that syncretism between cartoons with flesh and blood actors, but beyond it Roger Rabbit, the very successful performance by Bob Hoskins, or the entire school of characters and references to the animated world of pop hell, there was a scene that I installed as candiru in my body. In the first quarter of the film, the detective is trying to get compromising pictures of Jessica Rabbit, wife of the rabbit character. Following the clue of his name, everyone, including the detective, we thought it was another of those cute anthropomorphic animals, so we expect no more deference to begin the musical number. A cabaret music performed by a magpie introduces the act and opens the curtain. And then appears.

Although not become a trademark as well are the classic pictures of the Disney and Warner, the impact generated by Jessica Rabbit in many pubescent children or that time is much larger than it seems. When they meet certain nostalgic conversations with the memory of the film, like a bare foot stepping on a mine buried in a war that no one can remember, the scene of that redhead exploited us in the face. As boulders and small metal fragments fired by the impact, we are embedded in the legs, chest and face your voice, play shadows on the lush hilly geography of the body, the neck crimson and these heels that we want to walk over us. For some reason, people is very reserved when talking about his attraction to a character in ink, but as soon as the first stone is thrown, no one takes to recognize the mark left festering that little number on the sexual maps their lives. Not the first time that amalgam cartoons with sexuality, Betty Boop already did in the 30's , long before it became a ubiquitous pop wink purse muscular and KIO. Betty Boop was the first flapper to be drawn, and if certainly short of skirt and garter belt continues to impress today, just imagine what it generated at that time. It is also true that all roads lead to porn, and certainly before the Nipponese commanded the phenomenon hentai (giving rein to the worst of his obscure obsessions with a new stock of actresses who did not bother to be anally raped by tentacles thorny) and since the fifties were a few pornographic cartoons that circulated underground. However, there is something in the execution of that scene, a form of pace that I keep catching, and perhaps more than before. Many children and adolescents, we realized that sex was always there well, and hoped to enter, whatever the field, as a sparrow standing on the edge of our window.
The drawings give vent to all the land of imagination that is in us, being able to realize our own venus like mud or just enough to make our ribs.
This is a confession, and possibly leave me in a role that committed before the eyes of the bloggers. In one of those mystical summers of my puberty in Atlantis, a storm took the spa as a horde of dirty tourists who refuses to leave a place. It was like a week and a half that my cousins \u200b\u200band I were unable to leave even the garden at night feeling an intense fear that we fall a pine top. But the real threat was not the pine trees, rain or shine, but the boredom. My mother and my grandparents were between four walls by five children and the fifth day things began to get out of hand. It was there that my mother came up with a game that at first saw men with suspicion, but that soon changed our summer. The game was extremely feminine, if not gay, "and was to draw models for an event like Miss Universe. Each woman drew a representative of a country, which eventually would be included in a vote to choose the most beautiful of all. The only pictures of women who had made were pictures of my mother, or children playing with children, usually framed in complex school (or almost bound). But this was something completely new, had to draw women, women who were not confined to make the food or fetch their children to school. No, women had to do , we had to find women beautiful. I started drawing one, I realized that there was a slight problem with the jaw, neck, mouth and shoulders, having to begin to supplant the jagged angles circles and curves. There was a completely different technique to that of men and drawing superheroes, and somehow the process included learn a new subtlety and unlearn some resources he had acquired in my childhood. Over time I began to improve the picture, worry a bit more curves and dresses, and soon that became a chimerical search for beauty in a woman impossible. Unlike what you might think anyone ended on a very sexualized, and the models did not take long to have swollen breasts, hips, tight fitting clothes, and looks more challenging. All my cousins \u200b\u200bcapitulated and eventually his initial fascination was the only one that continued to draw. At one point I got to draw a girl I liked the school, I tried to bring her face to the drawing, dressed in the clothes that she wore to dances (a three quarters sleeve green shirt and jeans oranges), and I put his name, giving in to change his name to a reserve to something or someone was unable to judge. As we drew at times thought that came to my ideal woman, but soon I was unhappy in some detail, so again draw a new model, as if to get to find one that love, knowing that this was impossible. I keep all those pictures, I can see now, and beyond if not the most exuberant of all I did, I still like the green eyes of the French league revealed by the wind that almost blows the dress Miss Bosnia Herzegovina.

Certainly, I realize that sexuality is not just Jessica Rabbit intoxicant of what makes me sick, but also the aesthetics of your character. Strictly speaking, women who used to have a certain draw air in their thirties or forties, even without much idea of \u200b\u200bthe aesthetic of those times in my young age. lepetitclaudine a month ago there was a survey on a back And Then, two pictures that somehow mirror the aesthetic ideals from two different periods. In the first picture, the historical scene paddy Riso amaro : Silvana Mangano discovering fleshy legs with knee-deep water, a scene that my grandfather kept a proud scars of adolescence. In the second picture, a pole dancer now is quite well formed, showing a great flexibility of legs. Unlike many reviews, I chose the first, and certainly a decision that turned out to be paradigmatic of what my aesthetic ideals in females. If you already read this post last year, know of my obsessions, and clearly moving names like Claudia Cardinale and Jean Seberg. To this we must add the impact it made me scene getting to dress Anita Ekberg in the Fontana di Trevi , the mystery around Lea Massari in L'avventura, the spontaneity of running at that Jeanne Moreau in Jules et Jim Bridge, hair Veronica Lake in Sullivan's Travels , all and every one of women who appear in Boccaccio 70 (the epitome of the hot girl movies) and, as I mentioned, but I'm not tired of it, Claudia Cardinale:
a) dancing with Burt Lancaster in Il Gattopardo Il ,
b ) of a bitch in the Viacchia,

c) aristocrat in Fitzcarraldo,
d) of obsession and Mastroianni in 8 ½,
e) and stop counting because if you do not I control myself this ends up being a post solely dedicated to it.

Jessica Rabbit was so turned to bring forth all my fascination with black and white women (not summarized in decades, I venture positioned between thirty and fifty).

next day to rent Who Framed Roger Rabbit occurred to me to stop by Cinematheque take a couple of movies of the forties in which females show the same caliber. The idea was good because my sister had deleted permanently from the video and was entitled to a significant number of movies that inexplicably came after spending months collecting rent in the dung Blockbuster. My decision is to be very sexually oriented : Gilda (Rita Hayworth with elegant) and The unknown always (to beyond the brilliant performances have Gasman and Mastroianni, have to .... Cardinale-arrrgggh! !, cathartic moment here insert -). That's when the lady who attends, telling my sister deleted, tells me that all the films that had been accumulating in your account will be deleted. The information is devastating. The only good news is that the deletion happens to have effect only on March 15. He took the bill, and I'm at 9, so I've got six days Seventeen films to see .... At first it seems an insane undertaking, but with courage and I intend to beat the system. Saco realized that watching three movies a day, the fifteenth I will have finished all the films that he was entitled. It would follow that day would be kind of film festival in my home, I finished watching 20 films (to make matters even more sick cinephile, there were days of two to one), here
the list in order of views:

01-Gilda (Charles Vidor)
02-The unknown always (Cardin .... ah, no, Mario Monicelli)
03-The Wild One (László Benedek)
04-A horrible English film that hired Mary on incest and bestiality
05-The Adventures of Moving Castle (Miyazaki)
06-Berlin, Year Zero (Roberto Rossellini)
1907 to 2046 (Wong Kar-wai) 08-To Have and
Have Not (Howard Hawks)
09-The Lady Eve (Preston Sturges)
10-It's A Wonderful Life (Frank Capra)
11-Rushmore (Wes Anderson, once alone and once with the fine)
12 Rubliev-Andrei (Andrei Tarkovsky)
13-It Happened One Night (Frank Capra)
14-The Marx Brothers: Animal Crackers (Victor Heerman)
15-The Marx Brothers: Ducksoup (Leo MacCarey)
16-Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
17-The Marx Brothers: A day at races (Sam Wood)
18-The Maltese Falcon (John Huston)

(picture taken the day I got to have twelve films in my possession) Leased

but unfortunately not seen:
- Aguirre, the Wrath of God
-Iron Man

If you find a coagulant in all these films will probably be arriving at conclusions not dissimilar to those obtained by Charles Manson in Helter Skelter, but you can recognize a considerable number of films they were framed by a new fascination with fetish comedy circa the golden age of Hollywood.
I never posted this kind of film. When I saw those movies, I had the impression that had not yet found the performance a language that the demarcation of the theater (a cross that seems to continue charging the majority of Uruguayan film, with actors consisting mainly form clearly theater). I felt that the dialogues were artificial and all pompous gestures and overacting, full of spontaneous musical segments and cheap sentimentality. From the method of the Actor's Studio (the American counterpart Stanislavski method), many people understand these actions as a pathetic and stilted. In that sense, the film " A Streetcar Named Desire "is completely cool, by the fact that it shows how old school hatch at the hands of Vivien Leigh, the psychological realism of Marlon Brando. The first, extremely mannered, plans for the movie as if it were the queen of her own world, full of airs and histeriquismo overflowing. Moreover, the Marlon Brando Kowalski is one of the most virile, rough and real characters have been shot in film history. have them both in the same scenery beyond tells the story of his characters, the drama of two schools in which one would end up being devoured by the other. Over time, Elia Kazan and all the Actors Studio bosses became a factory of the most important actors of American cinema, including James Dean, Al Pacino, Robert De Niro and a gold-plated so redundant. With any actor of this school more than I could identify with the characters of that other movie that seemed as fake as the road that runs behind the footage of cars that usually handle
Gilda was when I saw that suddenly all that changed dramatically idea . The film is an American gambler (Farrell, played by Glenn Ford) who is based in Buenos Aires, where it becomes the right hand side of a man named Mundson, the major owner of a casino. At the beginning everything goes smoothly, until after a journey of pleasure, Mundson returns with his new wife, Gilda (Rita Hayworth), who happens to be a former love of your partner. The story adds international intrigue between Germans and the exploitation of tungsten, but what really matters in the film is the sexual tension between duty, love and hate content as a house of cards between Farrell and Gilda. In many details the film is a landmark film of that era. First, there is some naivete in the selection of scenarios. The film is set in Buenos Aires (and even in Montevideo !!!), but for some reason everyone speaks perfect English, limited to slip a "gentleman" very occasionally. Similarly, almost everything happens within the walls, generally within the mansions of the mogul and the Casino itself. This is accompanied by a plus that is not to try to become a film-mail, of those who try to make up failures of the argument with the natural beauty of an exotic land where the shooting takes place (in this sense, the same forties and fifties are full of films made in Africa and the like). Another thing about this rescue is that it is better to disregard any national identity to be mistaken for that of another country, mortal sin which usually fall some movies that show the native Uruguay as a mustache wearing a hat cowboy riding his horse in a desert sort of nonexistent.
On the other hand, which overflows with Gilda is elegance. Rita Hayworth is a beauty, but mostly manages a way to combine elegance with sexuality rarely seen. There is a moment he begins to do a striptease and I find it tremendously exciting, beyond which only comes to remove a glove. It does so in a way that the nakedness of the arm it for twenty Sevignys Felando Chloe Vincent Gallo.

Finally, and what ended up resulting in a Copernican revolution for my opinion about the movie: the elegance in the dialogues. That's that one realizes the beauty of this film prior to method. With the relatively recent introduction of sound in movies, all movies, especially comedy and romance dialogue became the main source of appeal, in a taste that could be given and wanted to take full advantage. While the film successor, after the fifties, the dialogues became prosthesis of the characters and the same argument, in the cinema of the 30'-40 'is an intrinsic taste for the dialogue itself, using its flow of words as a craftsman is a block of wood, ready to be chiseled. Directors like Vidor, Sturges, Wilder and Capra goldsmiths became true dialogue. What is amazing is to go beyond the implications of argument and go to its structure, similar to what he said Benito on architectures arranger of the Beatles. No word is superfluous, every sentence is to stand for the occurrence of the other, and everything is structured in the form of attacks and counterattacks that are unsuspected perfection. Of course, more than one says "but the people never so eloquent," and possibly be right, but the beauty of the language is completely out of the whys and hows of the characters. In this meaning there are two genres that I was going over to steal the show: the film noir and romance. Regarding the former, beyond the brand, which is the pivot between expressionism and Gothic, which characterizes the police treatment of blacks is the main character (usually the detective) and his tempestuous relationship and ever-changing with the femme fatale. When analyzing this, it is worth recalling what he said noir heroes Zizek on-line Chandler, "a bricolage of contradictory traits that define the impossible ideal: current, but unusual loser, but successful, cynical, but believing in righteousness ". In all these films are very supportive, whose protagonist's voiceover act as the first member of Chandler's novels. Thus, whenever the heroic losers of the dead jewelry fit this writer, always having the right word, even when they have a gun in the front. With regard to this genre, the film banner would no doubt "The Maltese Falcon" I had the opportunity to see, even in very poor condition. The film starring the hard Bogart was the last I saw in that mad marathon movie buff. It was Sunday and had to return twelve films to ten at night, and I had prepared myself physically and mentally to see five films a day, a feat that had only been one time when I had attacked a flu that had left me as the gentleman from Phoenix after the attack Virgo Shaka in the twelve houses (pah, that occurrence nerd, by God). I got up at about ten o'clock, bathed with cold water and reserve me a coffee as if it were cocaine. The first three films had a great time, but by the fourth my attention began to shudder, leaving my head like a dam after a flood in the last movie. When one is so saturated, conversations, images and gestures usually move to another record. Seem to pass fleetingly like dead leaves in a gale. The images and words as soon as they disappear, mutate and can limit one to take these handfuls of sand that escape consciousness. So, if you ask me to tell you the plot, let me say that at times it seemed as tangled, full of lies, cheating and contratrampas it is hard to remember, much more to tell. But nevertheless, with all these traps will come to a conclusion that is absolutely brilliant. Actually it does not matter who's on whose side, who is pursued and the pursuer, all clots and vanishes in the outcome: Humphrey Bogart and the others discover that the mythical statue coming by killing and robbing had no value in itself. The value had been assigned for all the myth and misinformation that circulated around the statue. In some ways it might be as an allegory of the era cannibal capital, where the value of being left in the product itself, and went on to be completely based on their ability to violently relentless flow. The capital becomes an intangible thing, a structure autodeformante and impossible to put in terms of bills, checks or actions. Similar to this is the journey of the Maltese Falcon. But I'm going to start doing this kind of analysis, that's what Zizek or Adorno. What led me to this is the last sentence of Bogart, which asked what is the statue, and it responds " the stuff that dreams are made of " - the thing that dreams are made-. It's a great phrase, sums up the whole movie and certainly must have been his first thought when it comes to Houston to adapt the script. It's a phrase so successful that must have been like the other side of the bridge, and the whole plot a mere way to unite against B.
The other genre is comedy, bearing the mouth of dialogues most unlikely places. Among the sights is "The Lady Eve," which has an argument impossible but full of very fine jokes about the battle of the sexes and "It Happened One Night", which I thought was a masterpiece of the genre. The only image I had of Clark Gable was "Gone With the Wind." I never imagined that the guy could take a comic role with such charm and ease. The chemistry between him and Claudette Colbert is awesome, but something that transcends them as a couple and is the same script. It's amazing to hear some conversations articulated within a certain intellectualization about minutiae of daily life (as directed by Gable theFallas different ways to finger ) and realize that these dialogues perfectly Seinfeld may be, as absurd to those characters that are bumping, as the guy who drives the car and likes to sing as a tenor (pudiendoThe Soup Nazi, Bania, Mr. Peterman or any of the secondary characters series). On the other hand, the films of the Marx Brothers are giants, and bring the dialogue to where no man has gone. Not counting Zeppo, which is decorated only, "Groucho, Chico and Harpo get a unit similar to a structure of carbon can not exist without each other, without knowing they are part of a system that transcends them. Between Harpo and Groucho, Chico is usually the most reasonable of all. The two ends are incredibly insane. Harpo is an incredibly wild, which is beyond good and evil. It's more than physical humor, there is a subtlety in his performance and ability to say everything without words that is unlike any performance I've seen in my life. On the other hand, Groucho's monologues are unusually absurd that something so badly could leave even the most daring writers Chachachá or Family Guy. You try to keep up with the guy and suddenly we realize that the way something was eating our bread crumbs and we lost in the vast forest of the verb. There's something psychotic itself in speaking of Groucho, like the guy confused things words, each both lost in his own words and leaving not only the other characters or rivals in limbo (the guy never stops abusing the poor Margaret Dumont in each of the films), but ourselves as spectators. Viewing Animal Crackers, Duck Soup and A from day to traces, the most insane of all, I think, without captioning, I realized how much is lost in the English legend. Here's an example:


original English version:
-what do you think about south america, i am going There soon, you know

- That is so, Where You Going

-Uruguay-well you go Uruguay and i go mine

English Subtitles:
-do you think of South America, I'm about to go soon, you know?
"Really? Where to go?
-Uruguay
"Well, let's do so, you are going to Uruguay and Paraguay
I will
(????)
understand it is a joke is untranslatable, but rates could have worked a little more.
In a way most films of the Marx are tests of anarchy, anarchy, not only in the events themselves (the three I saw were treated in the base, the implications of giving excessive power to the wrong person Groucho Marx-A dictatorial head of state in Duck Soup, as chief medical officer at A day to traces and as guest principal in Animal Crackers), but an anarchy that goes beyond the argument and is installed in the language and movement.
Finally, to close with the comedy genre, I saw Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which is not exactly at that time (is Technicolor and 1953), but has an aesthetic that still own the film. All presume that rented by Marilyn Monroe and very probably right, but strangely what surprised me most was not the action of the lace, but Jane Russell. Monroe is committed to being almost violently beautiful and unbearable, while the brunette's character is much less dimensional. It's a good comedy, but something bothers you, and is the message that money can buy everything, even at the end of the film. The Monroe gil boyfriend realizes that the mine wants it for the money, which also realizes the blonde's father, and yet they end up getting married, although that did not generate the most discomfort. The film is a hymn to materialism, with that video as graphic as "Diamonds are the girl's best friend" -people of my generation will remember him more by the desire to aesthetics Material Girl , Madonna, " and certainly Jonathan Rosenbaum could not be more right when he defined the film as "a Potemkin capitalism." I must admit that I'm a bit of disgust the message, but then I think about it and that is better than the insipid politically correct films today, where everyone learns a lesson at the end of the film.

There were a couple of films that were outside the selection, Aguirre, the Wrath of God (a copy was so bad that I ended up giving up), Man of Marble (which gave me time to see it) and Andrei Rubliev, whose circumstances surrounding the film explain. Andrei
Rubliev over time was becoming my Waterloo. After several attempts I managed to see Ivan's Childhood, but Rubliev always end up naked in the Russian tundra. I have rented the six times and never could see a stretch, volviéndoseme tremendous karma has followed me through the years. Able is a sign, as if too close to the message that hides the film feared to suffer the same fate of Icarus. All this came commenting The fine , convirtiéndosele rather than a warning, a seductive invitation to the mystery. We are preparing for Saturday in which I displayed in my room. I stuck a shower, I turned off the computer and tried behind bars to keep everything that had potential distracting. With all the room wrapped in cotton wool, The fine arrived, having eaten and slept enough for that challenge more than three hours had told him. However, to my surprise guest arrives very little strategic, Martin, a very good friend but is often used to gauge films Fast and the Furious, Universal Soldier and Fast and Furious II. I warn you about three or four times the most likely film that seems a plunger, but so many warnings that my term generating the same effect as the fine : The guy is intrigued want to see what the movie is about. We begin to see the film, the opening scenes are very suggestive, the filming of a guy flying from one type of balloon. And when it appears the long scene of a bard singing Martin is feeling a little bewildered, but hides it in style. The movie keeps moving and fifty minutes to find the first floor: Martin has succumbed to the dark charms of Hypnos, the thrilling and tight eyelids, mouth slightly open and the palm still closing in on his cell phone as if it had been his last wish clinging to the waking world. For the hour and a half The fine also falls into sleep, but At least I wake up every so often, wondering what happened while I was asleep and keeping abreast answering "almost nothing." I stay awake, and for the hour and forty-five all are awake again. It is my hope that we can overcome with Tarkovsky all together, but when the Tartars invaded our company is dissolved, and we are talking about former co-high school, the weather and one of the many ridiculously funny anecdotes Martin. Van two hours and five minutes from the film and try to hold onto something to keep watching, but I realize it's useless. The fine looks sometimes, but mostly talking to Martin. For two hours and fifteen minutes, as the child's voice warning that the king is naked, I become the spokesperson for what we all know and decided to eject the film. Once again, another losing battle with the genius of Tarkovsky.

Epilogue
had spent a few days of that embarrassment cinephile, despite my promise not to watch movies for a while, I end up going to the cinema to see Hit , film Claudia Abend and Adriana Loeff on five songs that changed the history of Uruguay. After a series of misunderstandings, I think that Mary told me to go see the movie alone, so just buy a movie ticket from Hoyts Punta Carretas. I forgot to bring my glasses, so I decide to sit well forward. I'm in the role of six, so there is room to spare. Now that I think is stupid, because obviously the film is in English and I will not be required to read any subtitles. Many people will go to the movies seems inconceivable without an escort. It seems to me quite natural, if often see movies that I rent one, what difference is there to go to the movies? Sitting there, watching the beginning of the film in which he says "there was once a country ..." it made me feel calm and I think a movie should chair be one of the places that I feel best in the world, and at the same time I started to invade an unbearable anxiety. The gallery of images and archival footage played a loose gear and that I have inside me a strange lump in the throat, a mixed feeling between experiencing a very stressful time and the cries of excitement of a sporting glory. I think as a sediment of nationalism that I had since adolescence, where the possibility of emigrating definitely had formed a strong possibility (no one knows what she wants in a country until it runs the risk of losing it). Comes the interview with Anibal Sampayo and often there is even more tense this time pacifying el hecho de estar más justificado (es decir, la idea de un hombre que nunca fue debidamente reconocido por su música y que ya en su decrepitud no puede recordar las letras que hizo es algo de por sí triste). Pero tras el respiro de las irreverentes entrevistas a los Shakers, para cuando llega Eduardo Mateo me desmorono completamente. Mi rostro está tan duro que tiembla, es esos momentos en que uno se puede verse a sí mismo como en una fotografía y veo mi rostro firme, como el de un hijo mayor intentando mantener su dignidad con estoicismo mientras carga el cajón de su padre en un entierro. La única persona que está en mi fila, un tipo que ronda los veinticinco, treinta años ve mi rostro pálido, los ojos bien abiertos and red but no tears, and some embarrassment gets up and goes back some seats. She must think I am related to the type, or something like that, feeling he should leave me alone with the film. In some ways I am grateful to have gone to film alone, because for someone who does not usually express their feelings liquidly, the task of keeping his composure would be quite strenuous. I guess you have been with Mary I would have left the room abruptly, saying he already come, to go to the bathroom sobbing breath, looking in the mirror, trying to exercise one side and an excuse to return to the movie. But no one, I'm alone and although this enhances this feeling, I feel like a gives me some respite to the film. But the knot does not go, and when I come A Pathway step before the first verse of the song feel as if that stirred a past that never lived, as if the collective history of dictatorship possessed mediumistic me using film as a channel. That song is part of the collective unconscious of a nation, and one need not have lived this time to assume the impact that this song caused. As a kid, when I heard "return the joy / to tangle with your voice / A measured in your hands / and rely on your sweat" , not knowing what was a dictatorship knew that this issue was very serious, and even in my fervent hatred towards the union in recent years I never put a finger on the song, possibly for the same reason that I'm close to tears. The film follows and charisma Canario Luna lets me cope, but then again the archival footage and come back to drown. Once the film ends, I have to stay seated for part of the subtitles. I feel of glass, any sudden movement I can not shatter. When I have no excuses to stay there, I go slow, crestfallen. I try to go fast, but I see the faces of people in the queue. Look at my eyes, I have swollen and red, we discuss things in his ear. Without giving me so much I'm already the door of the shopping, I find an empty room or a bathroom to kneel for the first time and finally, once, mourn.