What a double bill! Tom and Sam dive into the twin pleasures that are A Serious Man and New Moon with intellectual curiosity and torso-viewing expertise. Producer John then joins the fun to violently criticise Sam Worthington and life as a six-inch tall man. John goes on to praise Babylon 5 and Fellini, before everyone joins in to cite The Rock as a great 90s action-fest. The conclusion is a trailer round-up, with Clash of the Titans going up against Kick-Ass.

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Every so often I’ve updated the list of films that I have already seen with brief reviews.  Call it the complete-ist in me, but when I’m done with reviewing each of the films in the book, I’d like to have reviewed every single film in the book.

Anyhow, here’s another batch for you to read.

Enjoy!

Shichinin No Samurai AKA Seven Samurai (1954)

The Seven Samurai is the first movie that I had the pleasure of seeing from the master director Akira Kurosawa, and it is also one of his most praised works. Without a wasted frame, the story takes place over the course of almost 3 hours. Kurosawa, as he does in each of his movies, explores more than just the action and injustice featured in the plot. He is a humanist first and foremost, training his lens on the interpersonal relationships of the characters, tracking growth across this epic. As good as this film is, I would have to say that Kurosawa has numerous films that are even better, check out Stray Dog, Rashomon, Yojimbo, Sanjuro, and my personal favorite High and Low.

The Ladykillers (1955)

Existing as a special combination of dark humor, and slapstick farce, The Ladykillers is exceptionally funny and unsettling. Alec Guinness stars as the leader of a group of criminals staying at the home of a hardy, vivacious older lady under the guise of being musicians. The plan is simple, rob a bank, and utilizing the trusting nature of the kindly old lady, and the remoteness of her home to their advantage, get away with it. Easily my favorite of Alec Guinness’ films (thanks in part to the Star Wars prequels that is), The Ladykillers features a solid cast of great actors, including a very young Peter Sellers.

Bob Le Flambeur AKA Bob the Gambler (1955)

My introduction to the fantastic Jean-Pierre Melville, I was captivated immediately by the cool as ice gangster come gambler Bob. This film is filled with signature Melville-isms. Glorious post war street scenes in Paris. Trench-coats. Honor among thieves. And who could forget the caper. To talk too much about this film is to give too much away, and to do that is to ruin it for those who haven’t seen it. Other classics by Melville: Le Cercle Rouge, Le Samourai, and the recently released in the U.S. Army of Shadows. All are fantastic, and deserve to be in this book! Incidentally, Bob le Flambeur was recently re-made into The Good Thief starring Nick Nolte and directed by Neil Jordan, and while I’m not generally a fan of re-makes, I really, really liked this film. Not quite as good as the original, but it was one of my favorite films of 2002.

Kiss Me Deadly (1955)

The ultimate in hardboiled private eye crime stories, Kiss Me Deadly is a full on assault on decency. Kiss Me Deadly proudly presents itself as a grimy PI story, littered with bodies and intrigue. If you even have a passing interest in film noir, this should be your first stop. Violent, misogynist, brutish, and glorious, Kiss Me Deadly begs to be watched and dares you to look away. I myself, loved it!

The Ten Commandments (1956)

Apparently based on a book, The Ten Commandments is an epic in every sense of the word. Colored in bright explosive candy hues, and featuring huge sets, as well as a cast that number in the thousands, The Ten Commandments is more spectacle than great movie. Certainly not a waste of time, but not my first choice when choosing something light to throw in.

Det Sjunde Inseglet AKA The Seventh Seal (1957)

A classic, and well-loved film by Swedish auteur Ingmar Bergman, The Seventh Seal stars an extremely young Max von Sydow as a knight who faces Death at a game of chess to decide his fate. This film is filled with themes that find their way into each of Bergman’s works, ranging from courage in the face of death, religion, and humanity. The Seventh Seal still holds up to this day, with luminous black and white photography that, thanks to Criterion’s Blu-ray edition, has never looked better.

Note: Don’t be fooled by the similarly themed, but much worse, “Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey”

Kumonosu Jo AKA Throne of Blood (1957)

Kurosawa’s retelling of Macbeth set in feudal Japan. Shakespeare has never looked better as it does in the stark black and white, twisting shadows and swirling mists as seen through Kurosawa’s camera. Toshiro Mifune doesn’t disappoint in the lead role, but the real stand out is Isuzu Yamada in the as Mifune’s opportunistic, poisonous wife. The plotting and scheming starts right from the get go, all the way up till the frenzied end of the film.

Touch of Evil (1958)

One of the many trouble spots on Orson Welles’ resume due to studio interference, and financing issues, still Touch of Evil remains as possibly the best B-Movie ever made. Iconic (and sometimes hilarious) performances by Janet Leigh, Charlton Heston (as a Mexican) and Welles himself as the crooked cop willing to do almost anything to ensure justice prevails (just so long as it’s his justice). The movie is almost as famous for its long tracking shot opening as it is for any of the performances, featuring a nearly 4 minute shot done in one take which travels around cars, actors, and buildings. The film The Player, payed homage to it by mentioning it a few times during a similarly complex shot in that film.

Vertigo (1958)

Flopping on its initial release, Vertigo didn’t gain the acclaim it deserved until much later after it was released on video. Vertigo visits themes present in each of Hitchcock’s other works, including the obsession with blondes, innocence tainted with corruption, and the schlub who get in over his head. Jimmy Stewart plays the schlub, Kim Novak plays the blonde, and gloriously technicolored San Francisco plays the innocence and the corruption. Vertigo has a twisty convoluted story with elements of surrealism, an interesting watch.

Mon Oncle AKA My Uncle (1958)

My favorite of Jacques Tati’s Monsieur Hulot films, Mon Oncle was also the first of them that I had seen. Tati, playing Hulot, is a master of visual comedy, and not in the same way as the Three Stooges, or even Buster Keaton. Tati is an artist whose work is appreciated the longer you watch. The plot of the movie is not so much important to the film as it is simply a guide to get our characters into interesting situations so we can watch them get out. If you liked this film, check out other films featuring the bumbling Mr. Hulot, including Trafic, Playtime, and Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot.

Les Quatre Cents Coups AKA The 400 Blows (1959)

My personal favorite of the French new wave movement was this small-scale film, personal piece from Francois Truffaut. Featuring the director’s alter ego, Antoine Doinel, The 400 Blows is the first in a series of movies, each about a different stage of life and the challenges that go along with them. The period from childhood to young adult is covered heart-breakingly here, following Antoine through the rough waters of his home life and his interaction with the outside world. Later chapters deal with finding love, getting married, having children, and growing old, but Les Quatres Cent Coups remains the directors most personal and his best.

North by Northwest (1959)

One of Hitchcock’s best, North by Northwest features Cary Grant, suave as ever, being mistaken for a government agent by a group of foreign spies. Just like in Hitchcock’s most famous works (of which this is one), the witty one-liners, suspense, and drama are heaped on generously. I can’t help but feel sad that a similarly themed, but better film featuring Cary Grant was left off this 1001 list. Charade, also featuring Audrey Hepburn, James Coburn, and Walter Matthau, is one of my favorite movies ever! Check out both Charade AND North by Northwest as a double feature! You won’t be sorry.

Some Like it Hot (1959)

Now this is an example of a classic, well-loved film, with actors that I really love (Jack Lemmon I’m looking at you), a premise that is more than suitable, yet the finished product never really caught me. It’s sort of like Hitchcock’s To Catch a Thief. I never really saw what all the hype was about. That being said, I didn’t hate it either. It never made fun of me when I had braces, or turned me down for a date, my affections and this film have just always been mutually exclusive. Perhaps it deserves another watch…then again maybe I should just watch The Last Boyscout again.

A Bout De Souffle AKA Breathless (1959)

Jean-Luc Godard is nothing if not a sacred cow of French cinema, and while I have loved some of his other films (Le Mepris, Bande A Part, and Masculin Femenine), Breathless or A Bout De Souffle never really did it for me. I can still rationalize why it was so revolutionary (use of jump cuts, editing, non-actors, and subscription to the aesthetic of the French new wave style), and see it’s importance, but I prefer other examples of New Wave cinema. If you are interested in seeing a Godard film, try Masculin Feminine, it is just as revolutionary and a bit more accessible.

Psycho (1960)

A prime example of Hitchcock in his prime. Psycho was so good, and so affecting that some of its actors were type cast just on the strength of this one film (Anthony Perkins, and Janet Leigh), so much so that without a little research it’s hard to think of what other films either of them has been in. Psycho may not be as visually shocking and gory as horror films of today, but it still manages to hold up over time and be just as unsettling as it was back in its day. Hitchcock has always excelled at making the comfortable un-comfortable (motels, birds, tea, dreams, the list goes on…), and the subtle touches in this film work perfectly. Consider for a moment that Perkin’s Bates is an amateur taxidermist of birds, and then that Janet Leigh’s name is Marion Crane a type of bird, or the fact before the crime Marion is wearing a white bra and a white purse, while after it she is wearing a black bra and purse. His attention to detail, and knack for foreshadowing is demonstrated in full force in Psycho and remains one of his best films. Despite all the uproar over the Gus Van Sant remake, I thought it actually did some justice to the original film and if nothing else brought it a little more deserved attention.

Note: This film also has the distinction of being the first American film to ever show a toilet flushing on-screen.

Peeping Tom (1960)

Released the same year as Psycho, and dealing with similar subject matter, Peeping Tom wasn’t received with the same acclaim and attention that the former was. On the contrary, Peeping Tom was seen as subversive, perverted, and generally too shocking. The story revolves more around the killer than the victim in this one, whereas Psycho is presented more from the victim’s point of view. Either way, Peeping Tom is a fine film, one worth watching, however it is so similar to Psycho that I’m not sure it needs to be on the list of 1001 films.

The Apartment (1960)

As far as light-hearted, touching movies about someone recovering from a bout of depression, this one is my favorite. Billy Wilder directs Shirley MacLaine and Jack Lemmon in a sweet touching comedy without losing any of his trademark cynicism or the pointedness of his dialogue. The Apartment is another chance for me to champion the somewhat maligned talents of Mr. Fred MacMurray as Lemmon’s boss. MacMurray plays a fantastic creep who really defines the term “heel”.

Spartacus (1960)

Containing almost none of the trademark elements that make up a Stanley Kubrick movie as we know it (Kubrick apparently dis-owned the film before it’s release), Spartacus remains an interesting movie that isn’t great. It is, however, another example of a film that enabled an up and coming filmmaker to gain his voice, and define himself later on in his career. If only for that reason, Spartacus is a great film, but luckily for the studio, it has some other things going for it. Kirk Douglas plays the title role of Spartacus, and despite all the lavish set production, and concentration on spectacle, brings some heart to the slave who defied Rome.

Jules Et Jim AKA Jules and Jim (1962)

One of director, Francois Truffaut’s most well thought of films, Jules and Jim may be the Lost In Translation, or Juno of its time. Viewed from a certain angle, the plot is a completely moving and emotional story that you believe, so much so, that you can see yourself and those around you in the roles that these characters embody. Viewed from another perspective, it can seem a little precious or purposefully manipulative. Depending on what is happening in your life (I’m mostly thinking about whether or not you are in a relationship, and if you are happy), this movie can preach the glory of love and the pain of rejection. On the flipside, if you have shaken free the angsty, teenager-esque feelings everyone has had in their youth, you may feel like you’re being talked down to.

Cleo De 5 A 7 AKA Cleo from 5 to 7

Taking place, as the title suggests, from 5 to 7, we get a slice of the life of Cleo played out before us. Sometimes we, along with Cleo herself, are a voyeurs into the lives of people around her, and other times we are focused on her as she roams around Paris. By and large Cleo lives a carefree, spoiled life, yet we still sympathize with her when times are hard, and cheer for her when they are good. This is a small film in a lot of ways, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t impacting and beautiful.

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

I have to admit.  I didn’t like Lawrence of Arabia that much.  Perhaps I was too young to appreciate the aesthetic beauty of Lean’s desert panorama camerawork, or just maybe it was the epic length that decided it for me.  One way or another, I didn’t appreciate it as much as everyone else seems to think I should. 

The Manchurian Candidate (1962)

Overly reliant on gimmicks and quick editing techniques, The Manchurian Candidate doesn’t flesh out the story nearly…wait, no that was the terrible re-make that came out in 2004.  The original 1962 version, is just as taught, and well executed today as it was at its release.  While the story between the two versions remained virtually the same, the consistent building of tension and anxiety, combined with the pitch perfect acting of Lawrence Harvey, Frank Sinatra (yes…Frank Sinatra), and the devilish turn of Angela Lansbury as the Queen of Hearts, makes for a fantastic film.

Lolita (1962)

It took me forever to finally see Lolita.  I have known the basic story (older man, younger girl) but had just never gotten around to seeing it.  And while I’ve been told that the book is much better, I thought the film was pretty good.  Not great, mind you, but definitely solid.  The shocking and controversial nature of the relationship was toned down a bit for the screen, and maybe as a result doesn’t seem all that shocking in today’s day and age.  Memorable turns by Peter Sellers, and Shelley Winters, not to mention it’s an early film of Stanley Kubrick.

The Birds (1963)

Despite being one of Hitchcock’s most popular, I actually think that The Birds is one of his most over-rated.  I think I owe it to myself to give this one another look someday, but right now I feel that it was too heavily based on the gimmick that had to rely on special effects.  Though it is not necessarily the fault of the movie, but the special effects seemed particularly dated and old fashioned.  Worth a watch, but not my favorite by a long shot.

8 1/2 (1963)

Federico Fellini is, by most accounts, a master of cinema.  One, that I have always had a little trouble getting fired up over.  It’s not that I don’t like his films once I’ve seen them, the problem comes in when it comes to motivating myself to see them.  I couldn’t tell you why, but his films consistently get pushed off when they come up on my Netflix Queue or when I see the one or two I have on my shelf.  I shouldn’t feel this way, considering I really loved the moving poetry, and soul baring passion in 8 1/2, yet it still happens.  One very definite reason to watch this film is the man-crushable Marcello Mastroianni, swaggering through as the alter-ego of Fellini himself.  Dealing with all the reservations with women, making movies, childhood, and the future that the director very famously dealt with himself, Mastroianni embodies a certain cool, yet believable character that begs to be watched.  Combined with imagery that leaves the audience wanting more, 8 1/2 is a fantastic film.

Well, that’s it for this time.  Thanks for reading!

Haz click en la imagen para verla al detalle

La cinta Nine – no confundir con 9 u otras cintas con este número – libero los dos primeros posters de sala, que por lo visto le deben bastante al estilo de Broadway, lo cual no debe de extrañarnos. Esta película es la adaptación a la pantalla de un sonado éxito teatral, que a su vez se adaptó de la película 8 1/2, de Federico Fellini. La historia cuenta además con la presencia de Sophia Loren, una de las grandes divas del cine clásico. A pesar de ser el remake de un remake, es posible que nos llevemos una agradable sorpresa.

Otto e mezzo (Federico Fellini, 1963)

Hello all.

I am at a loss as to why I picked Otto e mezzo for this project. I am sure I had a great reason, most likely to do with the implications that it has for filmmaking in general combined with the fact that it is a fantastic film. I am confused because it is neither Fellini’s best film nor my favorite in his filmography (La dolce vita and Amarcord respectively) yet I picked Otto e mezzo. Federico Fellini is doubtlessly my favorite director (as noted in a previous post) but to be honest, I have seen only a handful of his films. I Vitelloni was my introduction to Fellini and I have since seen the following: Nights of Cabiria, La Dolce Vita, Otto e mezzo, and Amarcord. I am ashamed to say that that is only a meager twenty percent of his filmography. Guido, the main character, is right up there with Travis Bickle, Barry Egan, and Jake Gittes in my favorite, most interesting characters in cinema. It is impossible for the viewer not to notice and for me not to note that the music and the pacing are both exquisite. This film also belongs on my “Top Ten Films That I Wish to One Day See on the Big Screen.”

There is still not, in my opinion, a better opening sequence in the history of cinema. The viewer is given such a bizarre outlook for the rest of the film (I could see some dispute with this claim due to the sudden reveal of it being a dream but I am talking in terms of everything leading up to Guido waking up). I remember watching this for the first time and being confused on an entirely new level, and this was Fellini’s intention. Dreams end up being one of the most important facets of the films and also a useful tool in decoding the character of Guido so it is only fitting to open the film with a dream.

Fellini’s presentation of characters in the film, mainly women, is masterful. The audience is forced to pay attention to select characters at any given moment (thanks to close ups and effective camera angles). At times it seems as if the characters are engaged in some sort of brilliantly choreographed dance when they are, in the reality of the film, just moving about and talking. Fellini’s exceptional ability as a filmmaker shines in moments such as these. Brief side-note:  The young woman the viewer meets at the beginning, Gloria, is a student of philosophy and is writing a thesis. The topic of her thesis is an absolutely remarkable example of a comical yet poignant use of self-awareness within a film. The topic is “The Solitude of Modern Man as it is Presented in Modern Theater” and for those who have seen the film can most certainly understand the importance of “the solitude of modern man.”

On the topic of choosing this film, I think my thought-process was along the lines of, “how can I make a list of ten films that made me love film and not include Otto e mezzo?” It’s an astonishing film, one of maybe thirty that I think that everyone should see at least once. The ending is both beautiful and perfect, both of the last times I have watched it, I watch the last fifteen minutes at least twice. I curse myself every time I watch this film because the closing music will be stuck in my head for at least the next day or so.

Thank you for reading!

Var och såg Killinggänget på Dramaten tillsammans med Paula och Peje.

Den tre timmar långa föreställningen med paus var rakt igenom roande men framför allt oroande. Precis som Fellini lyckades förvandla en kreativitetskris en lysande film, 8 1/2, lyckas Killinggänget med motsvarande på Dramatens stora scen.

Det är lite som att befinna sig på en bludderafton på tidningen Blandarens. Skämt kommer och går, men egentligen händer det inte speciellt mycket mer än så. Rheborg åmar sig, Gustafsson gör några undflyende gubbar, Schyffert visar upp sina vältränade ben. Men framför allt är det amatören Martin Luuk som bär föreställningen med ett skådespeleri som fyller hela den anrika salongen.

Men i slutändan är det Robert Gustafssons enmansnummer som tar hem kvällen, när han tvingas klä av sig alla sina tics, dialekter, trix och fix  och fråga sig om han duger som han är, allt inför en andlöst lyssnande publik.

Ge Gustafsson tio år till så kommer han våga bli den lysande skådis har är redan idag, med samma tyngd och tajming som salig Carl-Gustaf Lindstedt.

Där hade föreställningen gärna kunnat få sluta för min del, men Killingarna plöjer på nån halvtimma till och slutar i stället i ett demokratiskt ensemblespel, som funkar bra det med.

Gå och se.

(Biljett-tack till Willy)

The cast of "Nine"; image courtesy of newsinfilm.com

I saw Precious today and want to talk about it length, but need to process what I saw. I’d also like to get to Push, Sapphire’s book on which the movie was based at some point before the end of the year. For now, I’ll say this. I didn’t love it but I did like it, thought Gabourey Sidibe and Mo’Nique were great, was heartened that my matinee screening had a good and diverse turnout, and think you should see it. But you may want to see it with someone and encourage your local theater to have a safe space where people can go if the movie becomes too intense or touches on frought emotions or horrible memories.

For the time being, I thought I’d mention the preview of a coming attraction. Nine, Rob Marshall’s screen adaptation of Arthur Kopit, Mario Fratti, and Maury Yeston’s musical (itself an adaptation of Federico Fellini’s 8 1/2), comes out next week. You can view the trailer here.

So, I know very little about this musical. I only recently discovered the origins of its source material, which I haven’t seen (though, based on my less-than-enthusiastic viewings of La Dolce Vita and I Vitelloni don’t hold high hopes for it, unless Fellini allowed for self-deprication in his autobiographical film the way that Bob Fosse did in All That Jazz, a movie of a similar mold that I love). Beyond that, I knew Raul Julia starred in its Broadway debut back in 1982, the original production won many Tonys, and once heard someone sing “Unusual Way” at a family friend’s wedding, which is a really cryptic song choice for such a ceremony.

As for the film adaptation, I know the players. Rob Marshall directed Chicago and is at the helm here. Daniel Day Lewis plays Guido Contini, a tortured director. The women who populate his life are considerable — Marion Cotillard plays his wife, Penélope Cruz his mistress, Nicole Kidman his muse, Stacey Ferguson (aka Duchess Fergie Ferg) a whore he once knew, and Kate Hudson a fashion writer whose character has a song that was written for the movie. Oh, and Judi Dench is Contini’s costume designer and confidant.

So, I totally suspect a two-hour version of Julio Iglesias’s “To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before” with generous dashes of love for the authorial presence of male film directors. Also, I think this trailer gives you virtually no insight into what this story is about.

That said, I totally want to see this movie because:

1) I’m always interested in film musicals, whether they are good, bad, screen adaptations of stage musicals, or screen adaptations of stage musicals of feature films. Yes, this means I saw Hairspray and didn’t hate it as much as many of my movie geek friends did. But those matters should be saved for another post. 

2) Unlike many people who hated Chicago (several of whom I suspect feel Marty or Roman got robbed out of a Best Picture Oscar for Gangs of New York or The Pianist), I actually enjoyed it. I felt the adaptation stayed true to the source material, deftly staged sequences that are actually going on in the protagonist’s mind, and felt like Catherine Zeta Jones, Queen Latifah, and John C. Reilly were great. I even enjoyed Renée Zellweger and Richard Gere, actors whom I otherwise would rather not watch in a movie. My only real complaint (which Jon Stewart shares), was that Bebe Neuwirth, who won a Tony for her portrayal of Velma Kelly was replaced by Zeta Jones. Otherwise, bring it.

3) Daniel Day Lewis can sing? The same guy who apparently prepared for There Will Be Blood by recording his character’s voice using early 20th century phonographic technology? I am there.

d) I’m fascinated by the presence of female pop stars in contemporary film musicals. As the golden age of film musicals has long since passed, it seems like the ones that do make it to the screen need a familiar face and voice, and they are almost always women with celebrated recording careers. Just as I wondered what Madonna brought to Evita, Queen Latifah brought to Chicago, and Beyoncé and Jennifer Hudson brought to Dreamgirls, so too am I curious what Fergie is going to bring to Nine. While detractors might snigger that it’s fitting for the woman who sang “My Humps” and “London Bridge” to play a whore, I’ll counter that she’s the only singer we hear in the trailer. Yes, that’s her singing “Be Italian.”

e) In the movie, I’m interested in seeing a whore play a teacher to our genius director protagonist man. In real life, I advocate the decriminalization of prostitution and would like sex workers to get worker rights and benefits.

f) While I worry that these women are going to be portrayed as long-suffering, one-dimensional objects of Condini’s affection, I want to see a movie that boasts so many actresses. I haven’t seen this many women in an ensemble since I saw Cruz in Pedro Almodóvar’s Volver (note: Cruz is also starring in Almodóvar’s Broken Embraces and I can’t wait for it to start playing in Austin). 

As an aside, the gossip enthusiast in me is also curious about Cruz and Kidman starring in a movie together. Ever since Tom Cruise split with Nicole Kidman and dated Cruz, I always wonder what their interactions are like every time they show up on a magazine cover together. It’s a catty curiosity, but a curiosity nonetheless. I wonder how they would be portrayed in a movie about Tom Cruise’s life, but want very much for this movie not to be made.

Vogue cover girls Nicole Kidman, Marion Cotillard, Penélope Cruz, and Kate Hudson; image courtesy of latimesblogs.latimes.com

Nicole Kidman and Penélope Cruz bookending Vanity Fair's 2001 Hollywood Issue cover; image courtesy of abc.net.au

Whether this movie is good or not remains to be seen. That said, I’ll see you at the multiplex.

I was sitting here this afternoon, watching previews online for the upcoming film Nine, which is a sort-of remake of/homage to Fellini’s 8 ½, a classic and one of my favorites of all time (it comes out at Christmas). But I was trying to figure out just why that was – what about it is so imperfectly beautiful to me, makes me feel like (although it’s in Italian) it’s in my own personal language, it’s not just a movie that I get, but I feel like it’s a movie that gets me. Do you have a film that’s like that? I can only hope that you do.

So I was trying to boil it down, unravel the story in my mind and all the fantastic singular moments. And what I realized is that it’s a film without a love story. It has romance, and it’s sexy, and it has a marriage and an affair and countless fantasies, but it commits to the person at the center of them, not to one particular relationship working out. And maybe that’s what makes it special, different. The film is a whole series of relationships and plotlines (much like La Dolce Vita), with no definitive answer of which is right – and isn’t that how most of us experience our choices? We have options, ups and downs, but ultimately the one we’re committed to is ourself, married, divorced, parent or not.

I don’t like most film love stories, where you’re rooting for the couple to finally get together, or to break up for good and finally be happy on their own. I mean I watch them, because that’s what most films are like, but they’re not my ideal. I can’t get wrapped up in the romance of it. Because life isn’t like that, the happy ending is a lie. Not to say that there aren’t ways to end up happy in life, but the next morning after that Hollywood happy ending, the characters would wake up, and maybe they’d be stressed because of work, or maybe they’d argue and make up all over again, and that’s just the way it is. Maybe five years down the road they’d divorce, and that would be the right thing at the time too.

But 8 ½ isn’t like that. It’s about work and love all wrapped up together. It’s about uncertainty and indecision and inaction and misdirected passion, and those moments when you know you’re moving in the wrong direction but you don’t know how to get out. As abstract as it is, it is so real. The final scene of the film (and I’m not giving much away here) is a sort of parade of all the people in the life of a single mind – the ones you let down, and the ones who were never really there at all – and isn’t that how we all are? No matter what we always have all our memories, all our relationships and accomplishments and failures, there, co-existing and pulling us in different directions, no matter where you place the arbitrary curtain drop in your story. And maybe it’s just me, but there’s something imperfectly beautiful about that.

“From one john’s bed to the next,” and here we are, sitting in our hotel suite office ordering room service and naughty adult movies, ready to ruminate on this past Sunday’s episode of Mad Men, the season 3 finale entitled “Shut The Door. Have A Seat.” And what an episode it was…

Again, normally August Bravo would join me here, but that guy just can’t learn his lesson. Remember when he didn’t heed Peggy’s mom’s advice and moved to Manhattan and then was thoroughly raped? Well, now he’s moved to Portland and while there’s a bar on every corner and someone you can buy a hanjob or coke or both from every ten feet, apparently there’s not enough of a signal to watch Mad Men on youtube via your iphone.

A brief recap (if possible): We discover that Don has been sleeping in Grandpa Gene’s room because of the strife between Betty and himself. Conrad Hilton gives him the cold brush off and informs him that PPL is being sold, and with it goes Sterling Cooper. Don tells his would be father figure where he can stick it. Then he goes and wakes up Cooper and brings Roger Sterling back to life and gets them excited about taking back their lives and their company and starting over. Together, they begin picking out their dream team from Sterling Cooper and assembling what will be their new company as Don goes around with both his dick and his tail between his legs and learning to value relationships. And sometimes valuing relationships means knowing which ones to say goodbye to, and so off goes Betty and her new boyfriend to Reno for a “quickie” (six weeks) divorce and Don discovers that he has a whole other family. But this, you see, is just a brief recap, so, as we’re told in almost every scene in this episode, “Have a seat.”

Well, Kennedy is still dead. John John’s had to make his goodbyes, and America has not quite realized it, but everything is different now. The changes are no longer coming, they’re here.

And Don starts the episode by waking in a tomb, the former bedroom of a dead man and the newborn baby who shares his name. He then goes to meet Connie, the odd kitten who’s treated Don like a ball of yarn half the season, and really wakes up when Connie cuts him loose and then gives Don a self righteous spiel about how he’s impervious to whiners who can’t earn things for themselves. But Don couldn’t give a shit. His company’s about to get sold and he doesn’t want to go work for some sausage factory.

From there on, the episode becomes just a powerhouse of awesome, giving us some truly satisfying and exciting moments dealing with Don Draper and the exiles of Sterling Cooper as they play the phoenix from the ashes of their company, but before we go there, let’s get to what we all knew was coming, especially after last week…

“The state of New York doesn’t want anyone to get divorced. That’s why people go to Reno.”

The thing is, after last week’s episode, this season finale was all set up in our minds to be the ultimate downer as the Draper castle was torn apart and washed away, and yet, back in the office, we saw excitement and joy, and more of a sense of family than we’ve seen in a long time in the cold walls of Don and Betty’s metaphorical bedroom. Just another way this show wonderfully plays with our expectations.

So, Benjamin Light hates Betty, and I can understand why, but I can still see where she’s coming from. And I’m glad she’s going. Don remains characteristically clueless about a lot of what she wants and needs, and really, she’s the same way about him. And now that she sees him, now that he’s no longer the “football hero who hates his father,” but the son of poor co-op farmers, he’s nothing to her. Everything that his double life has brought them is completely illegitimate to her, and she longs for the silver haired loser from the Rockefeller campaign instead.

In fact, I think Betty quite accurately throws it in Don’s face when he suggests that she may have to be sick to want out of their “perfect little world.” Well, actually, he just suggests that she’s had a bad year, which she has, and that she should probably find someone to talk, which she should. But her inference is also correct, I think, when it comes to Don’s real intentions there. I can defend Betty to a point, am curious to see who she’ll become as she now enters the real world that Don and her father have essentially protected her from up until this point, but she has been, and in this episode especially, a bit of a stone cold bitch.

“Why are we in the living room?” Bobby Draper asks, and he’s right. It’s the scene of Betty’s ultimate fantasy world and in it, the cathedral to which she can have those fantasies now ends as the family breaks up. This was easily one of the most heartbreaking scenes on TV, and so harsh, so cruel, so real. Don suggests this new status quo is only temporarily and Betty emphatically shakes her head no. And then there’s the kids, the real victims of the way people treat each other, and as Light suggested to me the other day, though it’s not said, you almost feel that for all the coldness they sometimes get from their father, they’d still prefer it to freezing to death with their mother.

As much of a fan of little Sally Draper as I am, the lasting image from that scene for me isn’t just Betty shaking her head no, but it’s Bobby’s ceaseless clinging to his father, clinging to his world that he barely understands as it all falls away. Oh, the fathers and sons this season. Don and Bobby, whom Don rarely shares moments with, honestly. Don getting kicked out by his pseudo-paternal figure, Hilton, which starts flashbacks of the loss of his real father (or real step father, whatever), Archie Whitman.

Which brings us to the night before the Draper family ended in their living room, when a drunken Don invades the master bedroom in the house, that his wife and their newborn baby now occupy alone, and he pulls Betty out of sleep and onto her feet, confronting her with what he’s only just learned about: Henry Francis. Don has the greatest line of the season when it comes to Betty: “Because you’re good… and everyone else is in the world is bad.” Don’s cruelty is usually cool, measured, but when he delivers these lines, it’s like he’s finally releasing some pent up venom. But it almost goes to far and we’re taken back to his imagined origins in the late night reverie from the season premiere, as he becomes his father, Betty becomes the whore, and then there’s the baby crying. It’s arguable in that scene that Don is confronted with a subtle choice as you half expect him to hit his wife: Does he want to be Don Draper or does he want to just another dick?

Which takes us back to the offices of Sterling Cooper, the kind of place that Don never expected to work at, but where he thrived, or, where he’s thrived for the last three years. With PPL being sold off and the SC along with it by their new British masters, Don is awake, and on his way to wake up Bert Cooper…

The dialogue in their scene is perfect, and I love that Cooper, who’s always kind to Don and his talents and his mysteries, and who purrs like a fat old wise and eccentric housecat with a bit of a Japanese fetish, lets Don know flat out that he doesn’t think he has the stomach for the reality of the future Don wants so brutally to regain control of…

Cooper: “Young men love risks because they can’t imagine consequences.”

Don: “And you old men love building golden tombs and sealing the rest of us in with you.”

But something begins in this scene, the start of building something, a bridge out of their indentured servitude and Cooper hits Don with one of those harsh realities he’s going to have to face: He can’t do this on his own. He’s going to need Roger Sterling.

And let me just say: Fuck Yeah, Roger Sterling.

When the highpoints of this episode was literally everything that came out of his mouth. Don and Cooper both make their pitches to Sterling about taking the tough road and starting something new and Sterling breaks it to Don: You don’t care about people. And maybe that’s why you’re so bad at being real with them. And Cooper hits Sterling with some real talk too: You need the excitement and danger of this business to survive and feel alive like you’re used to. Retire now and you might as well move into a plot in the ground with your child bride. It’s funny how enduring Jane has somehow purified Roger in our eyes, made him possibly realize that Joan is the woman for him, not the girl for him like Jane is, and put him on a better path.

From there, they go to Pryce and put forth a plan: He’ll fire them, thereby releasing them from their contracts, in exchange for shared power in their new company, and over the weekend, they’ll assemble a dream team to take with them along with any clients and supplies they can swipe from the office. And the show literally explodes into life. It became the gathering of the dream team from something like Ocean’s 11 or the start of a mission from one of those crack team of guys going on a mission World War II or something. It was perfect and it was exhilarating.

And it was a great moment for the characters to confront their own failures and move past them, to be happy beyond them. Don especially, as he does the walk of shame, first treating Peggy like dirty in assuming that she’ll just follow him blindly so he can beat her about as he pleases and then getting told off by her as she finally stands up for herself to him.

And then Pete, whom Don actually has to compliment for his eye towards the future. He’s not just wanted, he’s needed in the new company, Don tells him. And thankfully, along with Pete, will come his perfect partner, Trudy.

Sorry, August, but I guess Ken Cosgrove doesn’t make the cut.

Sadly, they took Harry Crane along too, but maybe since they’re literally sifting through the ashes of Sterling Cooper, maybe they’ll blow a little of those embers into him and ignite some potential. Or maybe he came along just so Cooper could deliver my actual favorite line of the episode, telling Harry that if he turns him down, he’ll spend the rest of the weekend tied up in the closet.

And, of course Joan is back. They’re all brilliant actors and they’re staging what could be a fascinating play, but they need a director, they need someone to coordinate them and make their needs accessible. And of course Roger knows that Joan is the person to do that.

But alas, no Sal. But in a small way, that could be a good thing. Sal may not be able to come back to the new company and the show in his old capacity, but more on that soon. Cause there’s always this:

Fuck doors. Fuck yeah.

And then there’s Don’s return and appeal to Peggy. He stops treating her like his former secretary. He stops treating her like just an employee. He actually sees her as a person. Possibly through a mirror, but still, he’s awake now and really looking at her. He’s really to lay down his sword and shield in front of her and stop holding the fact that he’s a man over her as something superior. I think one of the most realistic and truthful things Don has ever said is when he told her that she’s just like him, she’s his anima, and together they both can conjure the words, the “asa nisi masa,” if you will.

“Because there are people out there who buy things, people like you and me, and something happened. Something terrible. And the way that they saw themselves is gone. And nobody understands that, but you do. And that’s very valuable.”

When he says that, it’s not just to her that he’s confessing things, it’s to himself as well. Peggy ventures a guess that if she turns him down, he’ll cut her off forever and, baring his soul to her, he says it’s the opposite: “No. I will spend the rest of my life trying to hire you.” It’s telling that the most touching scene of the episode isn’t between Don and his departing wife, Betty. It’s between Don and himself/Peggy.

But of course Peggy is her own creature as well, and I think everyone, not just Don and Pete, are going to see it. So classic was Roger asking her for a cup of coffee and her flat out saying, “No.”

But then the long night of the weekend comes to an end and the sun comes up on Monday morning and the all stars of Sterling Cooper are gone, spirited away to their new home, an office in a hotel suite. In fact, really, all of Sterling Cooper is gone, shredded to pieces in the night…

And now:

“Good morning! Hello Sterling/Cooper/Draper/Pryce. How may I help you?” It’s nice to meet you.

“Very good. Happy Christmas!”

“He didn’t even leave a note!”

Still miss you, Sal, but you’ll have to change or die, as is often the case with history. As the always explosively brilliant Karina Longworth suggests when talking about the end of the episode as the camera captures the joy on the faces of the new SCDP employees/refugees:

The glow in the room that’s reflected on Don’s face in that shot—that is only there because they are all there, because he needs all of them to do his job, and vice versa. It’s arguable (probable, for all the lines like “we don’t have art”) that Sal could be back in Season Four and SCDP (and the show) would be better for it. But his sham marriage may need to fully deteriorate before he belongs in that hotel room.

One can only hope that Sal embraces his sexuality and himself and comes back into the fold as a contracted big time commercial director. Wouldn’t that be wonderful. Also, Fuck Lee Garner, Jr.

This episode was everything I could ever want from Mad Men. Much like us here at Counter-force, sitting her in our hotel suite/bloggitorium, at least when I’m doing my song and dance, we’re obsessed with the future. But we see it through the multi-colored lenses of the past. The past was bombs, the present is rubble, and the future is fireworks and we’re looking up at the stars, to dangle as many silly pyrotechnic metaphors in your face as I can.

The Beatles are coming. Vietnam is coming. The world isn’t done being changed and the light from the future can’t be fully seen yet, but for now, in the world of Mad Men, the characters are happy. Excited. Don Draper has perhaps finally said goodbye to Dick Whitman and is ready to move on. Trudy is showing up with sandwiches. Joan’s husband can hopefully only be guaranteed a nasty ending. There’s Peggy/Pete stuff on the horizon. There’s Joan/Roger stuff on the horizon. And there’s always fucking Jai Alai. We may never seen Suzanne Farrell again (though she’ll live on in Twix commercials). Or Paul Kinsey or Duck Phillips or Ken Cosgrove, for all we know. But what happens in this world and in Don Draper’s life could be anything.

Especially when Don places that call to Betty. He won’t fight her. She can have whatever she wants. And he hopes that she finds out what that is. “Well, you’ll always be her father,” she pathetically replies with, but I think it was meant to be a kind statement, something Betty’s always been foreign too. She’s going to leave two older children with a vastly better mom, Carla (so classy, Betty), and take baby Eugene, her youngest child and ball and chain from the past, to Reno with her new boyfriend.

And Don’s going to crawl off into the city, heartbroken maybe, but feeling lighter and hopefully optimistic. We have a general idea of the future he’s going to see, but he doesn’t, and he’s excited for it. And we’re going to go with him.

And, wonderfully, Roy Orbison is going to sing a song about the whole thing. August and I had a great time talking about Mad Men and hopefully you enjoyed it too. And hopefully it’ll only get better since, after all, “the future is much better than the past.”

THE TAKING OF PELHAM 123, THE AMERICAN FRIEND, HANNAH AND HER SISTERS, A CONFEDERACY OF DUNCES, DAWN OF THE DEAD, WILD STRAWBERRIES, PULP FICTION, THE BIG LEBOWSKI, 8 1/2, PSYCHO, TORN CURTAIN, CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS,  BROADWAY DANNY ROSE, AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH, TIME INDEFINITE, DR. STRANGELOVE OR HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE BOMB, HALLOWEEN, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, HELLRAISER, DECONSTRUCTING HARRY, EYES WIDE SHUT

Fellini (Source: Walter Albertin/United States Library of Congress's Prints and Photographs Division under the digital ID cph.3c22919)

With the end of the 2009 Lavazza Italian Film Festival and the forthcoming 16th anniversary of master filmmaker Federico Fellini’s death (31st Oct), the time has come to ask what made his films so important to film history and why they consistently appear on many (Time, IMDB, Empire) all time ‘best films’ lists.

The main reason why Fellini is still revered so long after his death was that the man was a creative genius.

Federico Fellini (author: Italiamia under CC Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 license)

At a time when Hollywood was making wonderful blockbuster epics such as ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ (1962) and ‘The Great Escape’ (1963), Italian born Fellini made films such as ‘La Dolce Vita’ (1960) and ‘8 ½’ (1963) – some of his greatest films.

In anticipation of his next film, Fellini had a hard time coming up with a new concept and narrative, so he decided to make a film about just that – a filmmakers’ struggle.

‘8 ½’ is about a director (Fellini’s alter ego, ‘Guido’ played by Marcello Mastroianni) who has a creative block as he allows his fears and anxieties to overtake him. This then leads to a midlife crisis of sorts. From there ‘Guido’ enters a world of introspection, memory and fantasy.

This film is high on symbolism as most of Fellini’s movies are. He had a lifelong fascination with the circus, vaudeville characters and religion.

The insightful, often tragic portrayals of outcasts in society within his films, such as ‘Cabiria’, a prostitute who tries to find love from ‘Nights of Cabiria’ (1957) and ‘Gelsomina’ a girl who gets sold to a cruel circus owner from ‘La Strada’ (1954), are heartbreaking . Yet ultimately you are full of admiration for their strength, resolve and human spirit.

Both of these characters were brilliantly played by Fellini’s wife, Giulietta Masina (who died a year after Fellini).

Fellini’s fascination with the circus and vaudeville began in his childhood in a small town named Rimini (Italy) where the travelling circus would come and entertain the town.

Fellini never forgot these childhood impressions and these were manifested throughout his films.

Following is a scene from ‘8 1/2′ (source: Desvelos)

On the biographical nature of his films he colourfully stated:

“Cinema is an old whore, like circus and variety, who knows how to give many kinds of pleasure. Besides, you can’t teach old fleas new dogs.”

He was brought up a staunch Catholic but is highly critical of religion in his movies.

In his own way he does portray a reverence for it. This love/hate relationship with religion led the Vatican to attempt to ban ‘La Dolce Vita’ and they succeeded in the end.

It was mainly seen as immoral as it juxtaposed religious icons (such as the statue of Jesus floating over Rome) against a backdrop of new ‘profane’ Italian modernism based on the economic boom of the late 1950s. It also treated themes such as sexuality and suicide in a very casual manner for the time.

‘La Dolce Vita’ also criticized Rome’s vision of itself and depicted it as an ‘over civilized’ ‘moral wasteland’ in which the Italian government thought unacceptable. Remember it was in the early 1960’s, however his critique of society is arguably still valid today (especially with Berlusconi at the helm).

There are so many levels of meaning and complexities in Fellini’s films, it really is a shame more people aren’t exposed to them anymore.

Here is the infamous Trevi Fountain clip from ‘La Dolce Vita’ (source:  juliabarnum)

Another scene from ‘La Dolce Vita’ (source: brushstrocksrock)

Walking into most chain movie rental stores is a sad experience as many master filmmakers, such as Fellini, are mostly no longer available.

Fifteen years ago the ‘arthouse’ sections were bursting, and today they’re virtually non-existent. But that’s another issue altogether.

If you had the chance to see his films, you are definitely one of the lucky ones. If you haven’t and you get the opportunity – don’t miss it!

Here is a video excerpt of an interview with Fellini (source: stockhausen/bbc 1965)

His masterful response on being called a genius:

“Nietzsche claimed that his genius was in his nostrils and I think that is a very excellent place for it to be.”

RIP Fellini.

¡¡Pero qué bien se han portado este año conmigo!! He recibido un montón de regalos de cumpleaños estupendos…será porque he sido muuuuuuy buena.

Así ha quedado la cosa (aunque aún me faltan 2 regalos por recibir):

• Entradas para el teatro (“Días de vino y rosas”, con Camelo Gómez y Silvia Abascal)
• El DVD “8 1/2″ de Fellini
• Un Darth Vader de peluche que es una monería (aunque utilizar las palabras darth vader y monería en la misma frase no tenga demasiado sentido)
• Una camiseta de The Beatles (negra, con la manzana verde y el nombre del grupo encima)
• Un Pinocho de madera.
• Unas chapitas también de The Beatles.
• Una chaqueta de cuero’ideal de la muerte’.
• Un reloj Swatch divino
• Una colección de películas de Woody Allen (bueno, originalmente fueron pelis de un director danés de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme, pero me dejaron descambiarlas).
• Un calendario de Mafalda para 2010.
• Dinero, con el que he comprado: 3 vestidos y un pijama

Last night, my husband sweetly calls me to tell me that he heard something about a new New Moon trailer coming out soon.   (Although he is both embarrassed and mystified by my interest in the whole Robert Pattinson Twilight phenomenon, he also understands that my feelings about Robert Pattinson are strictly maternal.  See e.g. prior post as to why I know that my feelings for Robert Pattinson are strictly maternal.)

I thank him but tell him that the trailer was leaked onto the internet before its official release and that I’ve actually already seen it.  (I don’t mention the number of times.)

I also tell him that the trailer was almost immediately broken down by a blogger in a frame by frame analysis, a bit like a new iPhone.  Only in the case of New Moon, the first analysis (a written one) was undertaken on an incredibly superficial (bloggy-type) manner, as in at “l minute 37 seconds Bella jumps into water”,  at “1 minute 38 seconds Bella is pulled from water”.   (It seemed to be the type of analysis whose only real purpose is to be read to the blind.)

Today, however, there is a new “frame by frame” breakdown which breaks the trailer into stills, supposedly all of them.  (Though, from what I can see, there is at least one nice image of Rob that is definitely missing.)

Still, the effort the Robert Pattinson/Twilight blogosphere is making is pretty amazing.  I mean, I’ve never seen a frame by frame breakdown of the trailers for 8 ½ or Citizen Kane or Jules and Jim, or even some blockbuster type movie like Spiderman. (I have to confess I’ve never actually looked for frame by frame breakdowns of these trailers.  Even so, I’m pretty sure that they don’t pop up first search.)

It all goes to show that there are many many people (and probably not just teenage girls) with an awfully lot of time on their hands.

Ahem.

If you want to teach how child how to count the time on his or her hands, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson, on Amazon.  Or check link above.

IBM, responsible for its share of pain, has released its annual IBM commuter pain index. The upshot? People think traffic is worse than three years ago, they’d spend time lost to commuting with family/friends if they could, and gas prices are on commuters’ minds.

Dog bites man, as they say in the news business.

I have some recent experience with that special kind of misery, though, having last month been caught in a traffic jam for more than an hour just after going over the Walt Whitman Bridge in Philly on the way to the Jersey Shore. “Hottest day of the year today,” the a.m. radio guy kept saying. I know, I know.

Not like I would’ve biked to the coast, though.

If you’re technically minded, you can read the whole IBM report here.

But some traffic jams are beautiful or, more precisely, beautifully rendered:

Volevo pubblicare questa lista/omaggio in un altro punto del web, problemi tecnici me lo hanno impedito. Si tratta di una guida (s)ragionata all’opera di Fellini.

Avvertenza alla lettura: questa non è una classifica. Non amo farne e troverei ancora più riduttivo farne una sulla filmografia di Fellini.
Non è tantomeno una filmografia, e i titoli presentati non seguono alcun ordine alfabetico o cronologico. Non ci sono tutti i film di Fellini ma quelli che possono essere esemplari dei suoi due periodi.
E’ infatti possibile dividere la sua opera in un pre ed un post “8 1/2“. Se fino a questo i suoi film potevano essere più o meno avvicinati al neorealismo per la presenza costante nelle storie di riferimenti alla situazione italiana. Dal dopoguerra, con personaggi che appartenevano alle sfere più basse della società (la prostituta Cabiria , i circensi di terz’ordine Zampanò e Gelsomina o il truffatore de “Il bidone“) all’Italia “scoppiata” con il boom de “La dolce vita” Fellini in cui il regista insieme a Flaiano, collaboratore fondamentale di questo periodo, e agli altri collaboratori creano un potente e lacerante affresco sulla classe benestate tra la fine degli anni ‘50 e l’inizio dei ‘60. Anche qui lo stile è asciutto, quasi lineare senza però perdere di vista la ricchezza contenutistica e la presenza di diversi piani di lettura.

Tra i 40 e i 43 anni Fellini inizia ad interessarsi al mondo dell’inconscio, dell’ignoto, dell’invisibile. L’incontro con lo psicoanalista junghiano Bernhard, la conoscenza di alcuni sensitivi, telepati, maghi e in ultimo l’ascolto costante che l’autore farà del proprio inconscio (celebre il “libro dei sogni” che l’autore terrà sotto consiglio di Bernhard, in cui Fellini disegnerà e racconterà tutti i suoi sogni fino agli ultimi anni della sua vita)  portano l’autore al cambiamento radicale del proprio modo di fare cinema.
I prodromi di quel che sarà possono già essere avvertiti nell’episodio “Le tentazioni del Dr. Antonio” presente in “Boccacio ‘70“. La macchina da presa non sembra più essere interessata a rimandarci il reale, neanche quel reale intessuto di onirismo che aveva contraddistinto i titoli fino a quel momento realizzati dal regista riminese. La macchina da presa inizia a guardare nella testa dei suoi protagonisti mettendo in scena sogni, ricordi, desideri, ansie come prima d’allora nessuno aveva fatto. La prima opera compiuta del nuovo corso è “8 1/2” che, come detto, segna lo spartiacque tra quel che era stato e quel che sarà il cinema di Fellini negli anni a venire.
In questa prima opera Fellini si stende sul lettino e racconta senza riserve se stesso. Non una semplice operazione di metacinema, se esistesse il termine si potrebbe parlare di metavita; e, dato che nessuno può scampare alla vita è impossibile non rispecchiarsi e provare almeno un po’ di empatia nei confronti del regista, che sulla pellicola viene interpretato dal suo alter ego Marcello Mastroianni.
Dalla successiva pellicola “Giulietta degli spiriti” in avanti il percorso di Fellini passa sempre attraverso la sua visione personale della realtà. L’esigenza di questo cambiamento la si può notare anche dalla decisione dell’autore di cambiare completamente tutti, o quasi, i propri collaboratori. Una delle eccezioni sarà il compositore Nino Rota a cui soltanto la morte impedirà di siglare anche gli ultimi film (l’ultima colonna sonora per Fellini sarà, ironia della sorte, “Prova d’orchestra” film interamente dedicato alla musica)
In questo secondo periodo, che si parlasse di personaggi storici realmente esistiti (“Il Casanova di Federico Fellini“), dei ricordi di gioventù del regista (“Amarcord“) o della nostra capitale (“Roma“) quello che si trova sullo schermo è sempre il prodotto di come questi fatti/aspetti/oggetti della realtà finiscono nell’occhio del regista di come vengono rielaborati e mischiati con la sua vita, i suoi desideri e le sue paure.

Ogni film del regista è degno di essere visto almeno una volta, quella che vi propongo è una selezione di titoli (quattro per periodo + “8 1/2“) con cui accostarsi alla complessa opera di Fellini.

“Le notti di Cabiria” (1957)

Questo è il film che ritengo l’esemplificazione massima del primo periodo del cinema di Fellini. Una prostituta, borgate romane degli anni ‘50… suona molto Pasolini, infatti l’intellettuale friulano collaborò con il regista per questo film prima di dedicarsi anche lui alla direzione di lungometraggi.

“Il bidone” (1955)

Di due anni precedente è l’”oggetto non identificato” all’interno del primo periodo felliniano. Si riconoscono i classici temi sociali affrontati in quel periodo ma la scelta di un truffatore a fine carriera fa assumere alla pellicola i connotati di un noir, ovviamente atipico ed autoriale.

“La dolce vita” (1960)

Sicuramente il titolo più conosciuto a livello internazionale. Più che ribadire il risaputo un paio di notazioni di colore: nella pellicola fa una piccola comparsa Adriano Celentano ma non è la sola rockstar a fare un cameo. Appellata “Nicolina” c’è anche la modella/cantante Nico. A Milano, ben lontana dall’atmosfera, de “La dolce vita” oggi ci sono ben due bar che ne riportano il nome e ospitano gigantografie di Fellini e della Ekberg.

“I vitelloni” (1953)

Sebbene sia tra le primissime pellicole di Fellini, questa è la mia ultima scelta per il primo periodo di Fellini rappresentando di fatto l’ideale trait d’union con il secondo. Fellini parla sì delle difficoltà della gioventù di provincia, del percorso di formazione di ciascuno dei suoi protagonisti e di come ognuno di loro si disperderà nell’età adulta ma qui prima ancora di “8 1/2″ Fellini parla anche di se stesso, della sua gioventù riminese. Da confrontare lo stile “neorealista” con cui l’autore guarda Rimini e se stesso in questo film e quello assolutamente personale e immaginifico con cui lo esporrà in “Amarcord”.

“8 1/2″ (1963)

Oltre a quanto già detto e tenendo da parte gli elogi e gli aggettivi entusiasti, che per questa pellicola sono inesauribili, non posso che raccontare come mi sono avvicinato a questo film. L’anno era il 1996. Ero adolescente: 16 anni. L’epoca in cui avevo iniziato a divorare film era cominciata poco prima. I miei consiglieri fedeli erano la rivista “Cineforum” e il dizionario dei film di Mereghetti uscito quell’anno. Ero attratto dai voti alti, dai film a “4 stelle” dalle recensioni entusiaste. Quelli erano i titoli che più di tutti cercavo per primi, compatibilmente con le disponibilità di un mondo “pre-Internet”. Sono state le quattro stelle di Mereghetti ad avvicinarmi a questo film, ma ancor di più alla frase che concludeva il commento: “Un capolavoro che si fa vedere e rivedere senza stancare mai.” All’epoca lessi questa frase pensando che questo film avesse una sorta di potere magico, una sorta d’incanto che permetteva di godere sempre allo stesso modo ad ogni sua visione. Oggi, 13 anni e altrettante visioni (o sono di più?) posso dire che quella frase era vera e basta che si dia  la giusta cura e attenzione alla visione per avere la riprova che questa magia è reale.

“Roma” (1972)

Stone Leviathan- Part of a cask opening, this beer was dark amber almost with a reddish tone.  The nose was bitter and hoppy.   Stone is a decent brewer, though not amazing, and I was looking forward to tasting it. 

The taste was really interesting.  It was not hoppy bitter but some other flavor of bitter – maybe a little smoke in it?  It was a very pleasant beer, interesting with herbal and perfumy flavors but not overwhelming, and not perfumy like an IPA can be.  Overall well-balanced and tasty.  Toward the end, it became a little overwhelming, but still earns 8 ½ out of 10.

So, today I was thinking about the one true genre of film that needs some serious advancement: the zombie movie. In the last several years, the zombie movie has undergone a transformation of sorts. Once upon a time these films were merely for gorehounds and people looking for a cheap scare, but now….the evolution of the zombie genre is underway.

Don’t believe me?  What about Shaun of the Dead? Hell, you don’t even have to look at movies to see signs of this zombie evolution–just go to your local book store.

But we need to up the ante now, this evolution must proceed, zombie flicks  must reach the loftiest heights imaginable!  What is needed here is an art house film.

I present to you:

Pretentiousness With a Side of Gore

I already have the synopsis:

Michael  Grisham is an award winning director known for putting out  blockbuster hits. However, Mr.Grisham  is dissatisfied with his work because he’s aware that every single film he’s ever done has been shallow and relied on special effects and cheap thrills.    He’s currently working on a zombie  film titled Little Miss Rigormortis;  a film about the zombie apocalypse.  Michael Grisham’s life undergoes a miraculous change when, one evening, he decides to take a  midnight stroll and is struck in the face with a meteorite the size of a baseball–killing him instantly. Grisham rises from the dead believing himself to be incredibly lucky and decides not to tell anyone about the meterorite.

  However, the routine of his life is shattered when he wakes up the next morning to find that some of the skin on his finger is peeling away.  He meets with a  flabbergasted doctor who informs him of his condition (that he’s dead) and Grisham storms out of the office, vowing to get a second opinion. Things get worse when he gets to work and tries to eat some of the food  on the catering table only to regurgitate it moments later. 

Throughout the rest of the work day he is afflicted by headaches and terrible hunger. He stays  after most of the film crew has left to look over some of the footage he shot that day. After leaving the editing room the headaches and hunger finally overtake him and Grisham blacks out.  He awakens to find himself covered in blood with the munched corpse of the catering boy in front of him.

Grisham panics and hides the body in the trunk of  his car and goes home.  He carries the catering boy’s life vessel  inside and down into the basement (avoiding his maid).  He spends the rest of the night watching the corpse–waiting for it to move or groan–but nothing happens.  He decides to make use of the body and chops it up into snacksized  pieces, storing them in the basement freezer. Grisham begins to carry the pieces to work in Tupperware containers .

The pivotal point of the plot comes the next day on set when Grisham finds that he cannot shoot a scene involving a zombie infecting one of the survivors. It is here that he begins to develop his artistic vision and decides to show how truly difficult it is to live life as a zombie.  Grisham throws out the script, fires his writers, and begins to write his own script. He titles his reborn film 8 1/2 Corpses.  He removes the myth about the “undead infection” spreading through bites, the innate desire for brains (zombies actually perfer entrails),  and the misconception that zombies are stupid creatures. In a twist of fate, Grisham, being undead, has never felt more alive as he pieces together the film that he believes is destined to immortalize him as a god of cinema.   Unfortunately, Grisham’s attempts to present zombie life as it is are beset by stingy producers, narcissistic  actors,   meddlesome journalists, and (most nerve wracking of all) suspicious  policemen. These grievances, along with his love-hate relationship with his ex-wife Germaine, not only cause him intense emotional stress but also  further the degradation of his undead body. His teeth begin to fall out, his vocal cords disintegrate,  his skin turns green, and even his nose begins to rot but Grisham presses on vowing to his finish his masterpiece.

The film culminates with  a decrepit, rotting  Grisham winning  an award for best director and giving an impassioned, but ambiguous,  speech that goes something like this:

“Unnnguh Morawnun nun un bagah! nun nun nun bugah!”

The audience applauds.

A tear slids down Grisham’s cheek.

Fade to black.

—

Someone get me either George Romero or Sami Rami on the phone!

–Javy

I’ve been hard on America lately, it’s true. But with people like Sarah Palin and Rush Limbaugh and Dick Cheney and Lou Dobbs and Joe The Plumber and… Well, the list goes on. With these folks popping up every few minutes to force some other piece of dimensionless drivel down the throats of Americans, many of whom are waiting patiently with mouths open like hungry fledgelings, one has to wonder if this country is made up of nothing more than infants intent on not developing their god-given brains.

But maybe that’s not really the case. I mean, Obama won the election, not McCain/Palin. And though there are a lot of crazies out there spouting lies to an audience eager to carry on those deceptions to their friends and neighbors, there are also massive groups of individuals who speak out in protest, call these liars out in public, and demand more responsible, adult behavior. Come to think of it, maybe it’s really just the people yelling and screaming and spreading these lies who think their audience is far stupider than they actually are.

While there certainly are a lot of people out there who either don’t want to think or have been trained not to, there are perhaps far more who are eager to think. Some may even be doing it as we speak. Which brings us to the point of this little essay. Cinema has always been a reflection of our society. Despite previous political administrations who showed their disdain for the arts with outrageous funding cuts, film is nonetheless of social, communal, moral, and evolutionary importance.

So why has the film industry been in steady decline since the early eighties? Well, part of the reason is probably due to the odd circumstances that lead to a revitalization of film culture that coincided with both political and social upheavals in the sixties and seventies. For a while there, the “inmates” were running the asylum. And it was wonderful. A little out of control and, at times, misguided, but wonderful. But what should have been a springboard has now become a sad basis for comparison. No growth happens without risk and mistakes. None. And we’ve been growing less and less ever since.

Film critic A.O Scott in his recent article OPEN WIDE: SPOON-FED CINEMA in the New York Times commented on all the excuses used for the making and promoting of thoughtless films over thoughtful ones:

…those reliable axioms about the taste and expectations of the mass movie audience are not so much laws of nature as artifacts of corporate strategy. And the lessons derived from them conveniently serve to strengthen a status quo that increasingly marginalizes risk, originality and intelligence.

I grew up dreaming of making films at the studios. And why not? As a kid, the studios were still making films. Sure, they also had strong commercial interests, that’s always been a huge piece of the puzzle, but it seemed for a while there, smart sold. People were open to and seeking adult fare. But now it seems the studios are being run by folks who altogether missed that era and, none too bright themselves, believe their audience is even dumber.

I’ve watched some of the best films of our current generation, films that would have garnered awards and inspired lines around the block years ago, fade into obscurity and be publicly proclaimed, not just as financial failures, but artistic failures as well. Ang Lee’s masterful film LUST, CAUTION was all but ignored by legions of American critics and fans alike. Even after the commercial and critical success of BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, this cinematic haven for smart, subtle, nuanced, adult filmmaking was pushed aside. Or Stanley Kubrick’s swan song EYES WIDE SHUT, a true cinematic undertaking tackling adult subject matter with more artistry than most of the films of its year put together, was battered senseless by film-ignorant critics and studio execs who declared it a failure  despite the fact that  it was Kubrick’s greatest financial success… So what happened? Have audiences just gotten dumber? Or does it just appear that way?

Well, in my experience working in this town called Hollywood, where people travel from far and wide to glimpse that magical sign on the hill, I’ve come to believe that many of the folks working in Hollywood at the studio level are among the most childish and spoiled I’ve ever had the displeasure of working beside. Not all, mind you, but certainly most. And they, like most children, think they know it all. They certainly think their audience is far dumber than they are. The studios are to film what Sarah Palin is to politics.

While directing my first feature THE PLAGUE, I had the unfortunate opportunity to work with a series of folks whose knowledge of film was pre-adolescent at best. They would throw around the occasional classic or foreign film title, usually something extremely obvious, like a movie version of a hit song, only in this case it was CASABLANCA or 8 1/2 or THE SEVENTH SEAL. Jorge Saralegui was one of these guys. Once an exec at Fox, this guy’s knowledge of film could be contained comfortably on the head of a pin. And yet he wielded the kind of power that would ultimately decide the fate of any film he oversaw. And this was a man who spoke few words of kindness about anyone he’d ever known and moved about with an open disdain for those around him. I’ve written previously about his nasty and endlessly negative comments about directors like John Woo and Jean-Pierre Jeunet, both of whom he’d worked with. And his list of credits is like a who’s who of artistic (and quite often commercial) failures. My film included. In working closely with this man, I got an insider’s view of how a film intended for adult audiences can be reduced to strained peaches on the end of a small spoon. And who is he trying to feed? Us. And there are those, like Saralegui, who will gladly eat from that spoon themselves. Just like there are those who will drink from the Sarah Palin well and proclaim “Yummy” afterwards.

But Saralegui is just one of thousands of men and women projecting their ignorance into the mouths of babes eager to consume whatever mindless drivel they are handed. Even if the original intent of the creative filmmakers behind those films were grander and more daring than the final products ultimately revealed. Just look at the glut of quality studio films out there now. Sure, it’s summer, the time of “escapist” cinema, but even before summer hit, the best films were already being coined failures while the most mindless of the batch were being lauded as successes. And if you repeat the mantra that any film that isn’t a total financial blockbuster opening weekend is a “failure” while the artistically devoid TRANSFORMERS is a success, many people will listen. Just like when we tell people that Obama isn’t really an American.

A.O. Scott again:

Commercial success may represent the public’s embrace of a piece of creative work, or it may just represent the vindication of a marketing strategy. In bottom-line terms, this is a distinction without a difference. A movie that people will go and see, almost as if they had no choice, is a safer business proposition than one they may have to bother thinking about. In this respect “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” is exemplary. It brilliantly stymies reflection, thwarts argument, arrests intelligent response. The most interesting thing about the movie — apart from Megan Fox’s outfits, I suppose — is that it has made nearly $400 million domestically.

…The studios, housed in large and beleaguered media conglomerates, have grown more cautious as the economy has faltered, releasing fewer movies and concentrating resources on dependable formulas. Nearly every big hit so far has been part of a franchise built on an established cultural brand.

…What kind of person constantly demands something new and yet always wants the same thing? A child of course. From toddlerhood we are fluent in the pop-cultural consumerist idiom: Again! More! Another one! …Children are ceaselessly demanding, it’s true; but they are also easily satisfied, and this combination of appetite and docility makes the child an ideal moviegoer. But since there are a finite number of literal children out there, with limited disposable income and short attention spans, Hollywood has to make or find new ones. And so the studios have, with increasing vigor and intensity, carried out a program of mass infantilization.

So when people ask me why I’m still fighting four years later for the release of my cut of THE PLAGUE, it’s not because I think it’s god’s gift to cinema or the holy grail of intelligent movies, but because it was meant for an adult audience and, at every step of the way, was chipped away at by its producers and ultimately the studio that distributed it until it was indistinguishable from all the other pablum out there. It’s a film that never reached its audience because its audience was never given a chance to see it. And this is just a $3.5 million thriller, mind you. Not a big-budget studio flick. I know what the film is and I know what it isn’t. But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit back and have any film of mine turned into drivel without fighting tooth and nail for its life. Part of it is that I abhor the thought of my name being listed as the creative entity behind something as mindless and offensive as the producers cut of that film. The other part is that if people don’t start demanding something better now, then we should just accept Sarah Palin and stop looking any further. Let’s just put on our bibs and ask for more, please.

The conventional wisdom within the industry is to accept what has happened and to move on. We’ve been doing that for almost 30 years and I’m yearning for film and filmmakers to take back the art form, to allow the audience to have both its escapist fun AND its intelligence, its creativity, its originality, and its ability to ask some hard questions, to challenge, to assume its audience is smart with a hunger to grow. If I can’t fight for that within my own world, with my own film, then I have no right to ask more from anyone else. Not even the studios.

First of all, I really need to get off of Barnes & Noble’s email list – I swear every time they’ve sent me a coupon over the last three months, I’ve bought something.  In my defense, though, Bottle Rocket is on of my favorite films and is also a heck of a Criterion DVD, and my latest addition is so mind-warpingly cool that I decided to sit down and try to express some of how I feel about it.

As they tend to, a coupon from B&N showed up in my inbox last week trumpeting another incredible deal – pick (almost) any CD from the online store for $8.99.  After a minute or two of album-hunting I settled on Don Caballero’s 1998 release What Burns Never Returns, mainly because the chances of me ever finding it in a retail store are just a hair above zero, but also because of reviews like this and (to a much lesser extent) this.

Quick quiz:

DON CABALLERO : INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC ::

a) Jack Bauer : Kim Bauer

b) Great Dane : dog

c) Terry Gilliam : movies that make sense

I discovered this afternoon that Don Caballero (on this album, at least) is ALL of these things to instrumental music – Don Cab are like a steely, probably-crazy dad that you may not want to introduce your boyfriend to for his safety (your boyfriend’s safety, that is); they are by definition just another one of the species, but if they stand up on their hind legs you are running for cover because you know they can knock you down; and when you listen to them at first they don’t make any sense but after digging beneath all the craziness there’s something about them that makes you want to go again .

In the case of What Burns Never Returns, I’ll say only three things (boy, I’m fond of lists today):

1) I’ve never had to concentrate on listening to an album as much as I did on this one.  Seriously, you’ll get lost if you don’t pay attention, and you may still get lost anyway.

2) Drummer Damon Che must either be from another planet or have a P.H.D. in mathematics, because he’s like a rhythmic Erdős on this CD.

3) Despite all the structural acrobatics and that-has-to-be-impossible-to-play-live musicianship, I didn’t feel like these guys were showing off at all, unlike some other bands I can think of that incorporate similar elements (I’m looking at you, Mars Volta).  To me it sounded more like four guys who were having fun making something that sounded awesome.

I’d like to say I recommend this album, but I know that would be the musical equivalent of asking someone who’d never seen a film before to watch 8 1/2 without subtitles (not that subtitles would help).  So instead I’ll close with the title of the album’s second track and let you imagine what it sounds like:

“In the Absence of Strong Evidence to the Contrary, One May Step Out of the Way of the Charging Bull”

Again, as Orson Welles said, “Of Course everything looks better in black and white”. I would say that’s an accurate paraphrase of how many film lovers feel about the film image on screen.

The average viewer probably is not too fond of seeing things in black-and-white. As a co-worker said, “Hey! It’s not the 1950s anymore”. Actually maybe I said that as if a co-worker said that to me. Some of the best cinematography to me is in black-and-white.

Some of my favourites include “The Third Man“, “Raging Bull” and “8 1/2“. You rarely find contemporary films that would dedicate even a few seconds to black-and-white cinematography but here’s a film that’s recent: 2007’s “I’m Not There” by Todd Haynes, cinematography by Edward Lachman. I thought it looked amazing and made me yearn for more films to be shot in black-and-white.

I guess I’ll have to shoot my first film in black-and-white. If I could only have it look like this film.

Here’s a clip with the great “Positively Fourth Street” as the audio track. There’s some stock footage in there, but still….. black-and-white is great!

Un hombre, apresado en su coche, en medio del tráfico, escapa por el techo del vehículo y echa a volar. Un arranque onírico que marca el devenir de 8 1/2, historia de la desazón de un director de cine en horas bajas, acechado por sus fantasmas, entregado con no poco masoquismo a los recuerdos, incapaz de abandonar una espiral egocéntrica que le devuelve una y otra vez imágenes del pasado, mientras presente y futuro se desmoronan al mismo ritmo que su fallida nueva película.

Espesa como los sueños, bufa como el humor de su creador, de una belleza extrema en las imágenes más líricas, siempre fiel a su estilo, tan italiana, 8 1/2 era “la siguiente”, la película que Federico Fellini rueda nuevamente con Marcello Mastroianni tras el éxito de La dolce vita, probablemente el título más mítico, por su simbología, de la amplísima y fructífera trayectoria del cineasa de Rimini. 8 1/2 es otra cosa, en muchos sentidos una vuelta de tuerca; aquí el galán, el dandy, el latin lover peina canas y pasea ojeras, su look es tan impecable como siempre pero desprende un aura perdedora, el éxito con las mujeres se ha transformado en un peligroso binomio de rechazo-dependencia que le induce a huir de los brazos de su amante para salir repelido del frío rechazo de su asqueada mujer. En medio, un rodaje, caótico, avanzando hacia ninguna parte, metáfora de la deriva vital del protagonista: mil pruebas a actrices hechas con desgana; un decorado mastodóntico con un cohete que jamás será disparado; un productor condescendiente que va perdiendo la paciencia…

Y constantemente los fantasmas: la educación férreamente religiosa, las primeras tentaciones, los padres, Claudia Cardinale como una Claudia inalcanzable, etérea frente al más palpable harén con el que Guido, el rol de Mastroianni, zanja de una forma pueril e ilusoria el muy real encuentro entre su mujer y su amante. Fantasmas que, llegado un punto, adquieren una consistencia mayor que esas personas de carne y hueso que acechan al desganado cineasta, cada vez más entregado a su suerte, rendido, acosado por la culpa, necesitado de comprensión, incapaz de amar, de ser fiel, de narrar una historia de amor.

Un monstruo del séptimo arte como Fellini presenta un currículum tan abrumador (12 nominaciones al Oscar para un director italiano son una buena muestra) que roza el atrevimiento señalar una como su mejor película. La strada, Las noches de Cabiria, la citada La dolce vita, Amarcord: títulos todos de obligada visión. Pero tal vez pueda elegirse 8 1/2 como el título crucial. Ese donde, a semejanza de su muy personal producción, vuelca en imágenes recuerdos y fantasmas para ensartarlos en el camino de un estupendo Marcello Mastroianni, otro gigante, aquí capaz de deformar su habitual rol de conquistador para servir de catalizador de las fascinantes, amargas y hasta enloquecidas visiones de Fellini.

“Being beautiful can never hurt, but you have to have more. You have to sparkle, you have to be fun, you have to make your brain work if you have one.”
Sophia Loren

Throw that intelligence curve ball indeed, Sophia!

…while my tiny Alien mitts await my rice flour to rise for my mini-bread baking experiment today, I salute all things home-y, bake-y, vintage clebritini-ish and womanly beautiful…the curvaciousness that is Sophia Loren for no other reason than she popped into my Alien world twice today and made me Alien smile.

First, my compound Alien eyes could not stop drinking in this image of Sophia in bed, very pleasing in a real Mama Madonna way. Note the painting of Sophia Madonna over her head.  She really worked it to escape poverty and miscarriages to earn her lush Mamahood to her two boys.  And then today, suddenly synchronistically and eerily, a friend said to watch her whole story on a videotape of the Charlie Rose show from 2002, where Sophia touts her history and her cookbook.

Sophia…are you tryin to tell The Alien something?

Of course, I check the Google news for some Sophia wisdom. That’s what her name means, scholars! Sure enough, in the news is Annie Hall actress, Diane Keaton, on a roll to save the Century Plaza Hotel from the wrecking ball.  Designed by Minoru Yamasaki of the Twin Tower fame, Diane and others are calling it a perfect example of 1960’s architecture.  Diane paid homage to a classic example of 1960’s icon-status architecture by saying that the hotel’s distinctive curving facade made it appear like “a sexy woman surrounded by ogling men – Sophia Loren in the 1960s”.

LA's Century Plaza Hotel

The Alien hopes Diane (scholars: The Huntress) is more successful in her fight than New York City’s tragic loss of the curvy, sparkly Lollipop building at Columbus Circle…replaced by a bland building with all the emotion and excitement of a circuit board.

Lollipop building

Neither of these 60’s buildings have anything on my favorite, Oscar Niemeyer’s architectural curve-balls.

Osacr Niemeyer, Alien space travel building

So Kudo’s to Mama Sophia for beautifully appreciating, turning and working life’s curve balls into Sparkly Magnificence vs. acquiesing to the wrecking balls. 

On September 20, Sophia Loren is 75 years stunning. Building and Rising again this Fall, Sophia stars as the Mama in Nine, the Musical movie with stellar co-stars, Daniel Day-Lewis, Nicole Kidman, Penelope Cruz, Marion Cotillard, Kate Hudson, Stacy “Fergie” Ferguson, Look at Daniel Day Lewis and his hot Mama here:

Sophia Loren and Daniel Day Lewis

YOU!…Sophia!…and Oscar! will forever make an alien stuck in the body of a stripper named Chelsea Nicole… smile a curvy architectonique smile.

How to Steal a Million

Any time you have a movie with Audrey Hepburn, you know you’re in for a fashionable film. But this time, her co-star Peter O’Toole steals the show (and some art). Another lesson in menswear perfection as posited by a 1960s film (noticing a trend here?…), O’Toole’s style is slick with gorgeous jackets and his shirt cuffs peaking out like they should. We look forward to every scene where he is newly dressed in a dashing blue silk knit tie speckled with white polk-a-dots, or a peak lapel tux, or a grey houndstooth jacket. For some reason films about classy men who like stealing art tend to have good style…

8 1/2

Let’s face it. Sometimes the Italians have the Americans beat. Cary Grant is an icon, but Italian actor Marcello Mastroianni just dominates. In this philosophical foreign film, director Federico Fellini — universally considered one of the best dressed men of all time — serves as the very inspiration for Mastroianni’s look. We’re talking crisp and trim black suits with white shirts and slender black ties. All made by Brioni. And then look at how he wears those black wraparound sunglasses. This is the 60s at its best.

FILME: 8 1/2

Título Original: Otto e Mezzo
Gênero: Drama
Tempo de Duração: 140 minutos
Ano de Lançamento: (Itália) 1963
Estúdio: Cineriz / Francinex
Distribuição: Embassy Pictures Corporation
Direção: Federico Fellini
Roteiro: Ennio Flaiano, Federico Fellini, Tullio Pinelli e Brunello Rondi, baseado em estória de Federico Fellini e Ennio Flaiano
Produção: Angelo Rizzoli
Elenco
Marcello Mastroianni (Guido Anselmi)
Claudia Cardinale (Claudia)
Anouk Aimée (Luisa Anselmi)
Sandra Milo (Carla)
Rossella Falk (Rossella)
Barbara Steele (Gloria Morin)
Madeleine LeBeau (Atriz francesa)
Eddra Gale (Saraghina)
Guido Alberti (Produtor)
Mario Conocchia (Diretor)
Bruno Agostini (Secretário do produtor)
Cesarino Miceli Picardi (Inspetor)
Jean Rougeul (Escritor)
Mario Pisu (Mezzabotta)
Sinopse: Prestes a rodar sua próxima obra, o cineasta Guido Anselmi (Marcello Mastroianni) ainda não tem idéia de como será o filme. Mergulhado em uma crise existencial e pressionado pelo produtor, pela mulher, pela amante e pelos amigos, ele se interna em uma estação de águas e passa a misturar o passado com o presente, ficção com realidade.

Comentário: uma das principais obras de Fellini, vale a pena ser vista e revista.

MÚSICA: ERASURE – A LITTLE RESPECT