DOLWORTH: Nada menos que cien mil dólares por una esposa. Debe de ser toda una mujer.

FARDAN: Será una mujer de esas que convierten a algunos niños en hombres y a algunos hombres en niños.

DOLWORTH: Si es así vale lo que piden.

——————–

EHRENGARD: ¿Y qué hacían unos norteamericanos en una revolución mexicana?

DOLWORTH: Tal vez sólo haya una revolución. Desde siempre. La de los buenos contra los malos. La pregunta es: ¿quiénes son los buenos?

——————–

DOLWORTH: Nada es para siempre, excepto la muerte (…).

JESÚS RAZA: Todos ellos murieron por un ideal.

DOLWORTH: ¿La revolución? Cuando el tiroteo termina los muertos se entierran y los políticos entran en acción. El resultado es siempre igual. Una causa perdida.

JESÚS RAZA: (…) La revolución es como la más bella historia de amor. Al principio, ella es una diosa, una causa pura, pero todos los amores tienen un terrible enemigo.

DOLWORTH: El tiempo.

JESÚS RAZA: Tú la ves tal como es. La revolución no es una diosa sino una mujerzuela; nunca ha sido pura ni virtuosa ni perfecta. Así que huimos y encontramos otro amor, otra causa, pero sólo son asuntos mezquinos. Lujuria pero no amor, pasión pero sin compasión. Y sin un amor, sin una causa, no somos nada. Nos quedamos porque tenemos fe. Nos marchamos porque nos desengañamos. Volvemos porque nos sentimos perdidos. Morimos porque es inevitable.

The professionals. Richard Brooks (1966).

Burt Lancaster och Claudia Cardinale i “Il Gattopardo” av Luchino Visconti (1963).

Enligt The Cut kommer Dolce och Gabbanas nya vårkampanj för 2010 att porträtteras av ingen mindre än Madonna. I fredags fotograferades kampanjen av Steven Meisel i New York. Madonna träffade Stefano och Dominico Gabbana under nittiotalet, och duon designade även popstjärnans kläder till “The Girlie Show” turnén 1993. Vårens kollektion för 2010 är bland annat inspirerad av filmatiseringen av  Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusas bok “Il Gattopardo” (1958) och innehåller spetsar, crochetstickat och nät, och är en hyllning till designernas sicilienska arv, skrädderi och sensualism. Och vem passar att visualisera denna beskrivning bättre än Madonna Ciccone?

Om valet av kampanjansiktet säger Domenico Dolce och Stefano Gabbana på deras nättidning Swide Magazine:
“Att ha Madonna i vår kampanj är en dröm som går i uppfyllelse“.

According to The Cut, Madonna is the new campaign face for Dolce & Gabbana spring and summer collection for 2010. The campaign was shot by Steven Meisel in New York last Friday. The designers met Madonna in the early nineties, and also designed her collection during “The Girlie Show” tour in 1993. The S/S collection for 2010 will convey the image of the Sicilian iconic woman, and is inspired by their Sicilian heritage, Sartorial tailoring and sensualism. One of the inspirations behind the collection is also the novel “Il Gattopardo” by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa (1958), and the clothes are in materials like crochet, lace and net.

On Madonna appearing in their forthcoming campaign, Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana said,
“To have Madonna in our campaign is a dream come true”.

As it happens, the community of this blog, nicknamed “Binelik Atelier” has started a discourse on who might pose for the “Venus of Urbino”, should Titian be a 20th century painter.

I start my contribution from the axiom that what makes the Urbino Venus unique and classical is her ambivalence and unpredictability. We have to do in a sense with a naked Mona Lisa, only in this case the whole body is the protagonist of the posture, not just the mouth and the eyes.

This is Part I, as there are many Venus candidates for the 20th Century. Here we go!!!

Rita Hayworth

Flirting – Are you looking at me sailor?

Seductive optimism rides the waves

(Pensive)…. where have the good times gone?

Anouk Aimee

Sensitive, fragile

Life Magazin, 1967

feminine, elegant

Life Magazin, 1967

discretely intense, these eyes can direct you to murder all the way!

Claudia Cardinale

I want to share some bad thoughts…

I want to have a shower …

and then go to bed…

Oh internet, must fall on my sword I’ve been AWOL blogwise for far too long…much internet house cleaning to do. Been busy, working a lot, taking some classes to boost that web/code knowledge, had a birthday(I’m 27), had a Halloween, had a zit on the end of my nose for a week(gone now ladies), went to a Sounders game, joined the Facebook(still need to approve all them friends), killed some fools in Fantasy Football(I’m playing Lil Tuffy this week) and posters of course. And in poster news the Artie Lange at The Paramount show I was doing a poster for got canceled, word is it’ll be rescheduled for the Spring…I’ll let you know. Also there are very few Uhh Yeah Dude posters left from what Jonathan tells me so get them shits HERE if you’re so inclined.

So anyway I’m looking to get caught up over the weekend although I’m going down to Portland on Sunday for Ghostland Observatory at Crystal Ballroom so I guess I really only have Saturday to make any progress on posting new things, prints etc.

BUT since you’re here I might as well share with you the design for the poster I did for said show:

It’s printed on silver paper so this jpg doesn’t quite do it justice, I’ll get some pics up later. The concept is going off of this “psychedelic cowboy” idea I got from the band a while back, it’s funky and weird, new/different direction, people seem to like it most of all and most important the band digs it! I will be selling them at the show Sunday night, see you PDX kids there!

Alright I’m gonna go but I forgot to mention that the interview with Brad Klausen is basically done I just haven’t had time to compile it and post it. It’s pretty awesome, feel free to give me all kinds of shit if that aint up on Monday cuz I’ve been sitting on that for a while.

El terror se convierte plano a plano, en algo sumamente abstracto: es la angustia ante lo desconocido.

Sigourney Weaver.

“ALIEN“ es un film muy british a todas luces, con ello quiero decir que no sólo es que esté realizado en Gran Bretaña, no, con ello quiero decir que está realizado muy al gusto de los británicos, aterroriza pero prácticamente sin una gota de sangre, eso es porque profundiza en la narrativa de Alfred Hitchcock, por eso funciona tan bien como thriller o largometraje de suspense, como queráis denominarlo. Así que pasemos a analizar diferentes aspectos de la película que son muy importantes, esos pequeños detalles que están ahí, que parecen irrelevantes, pero no dejan de ser lo que le otorga mayor enjundia al film de Scott.

Saul Bass, gran maestro de ceremonias, y genial introductor, por no decir, diseñador y creador de los más famosos títulos de crédito del cine norteamericano, supo entender muy bien los diseños de Hans Rudi Giger y eso se deja ver en los rótulos iniciales del largometraje a pesar de que no está acreditado. En tan sólo dos minutos nos hará un gran resumen de lo que será el núcleo de este particular viaje espacial. Los motivos por los que no está acreditado, no nos interesan, para mí son meramente anecdóticos, pero lo verdaderamente curioso es la estructura que poseen. Comienza de la forma más inquietante que puede arrancar una película con una pantalla casi en negro, porque nos pone el universo de fondo, comenzamos el viaje de lo general a lo particular, porque acabamos viendo un planeta de fondo.  Todo ello acompañado por la suite creada, por Jerry Goldsmith para marcar este efecto, con instrumentos de viento y cuerda para ir de la mano con Bass e ir de lo dulce y placentero a lo estridente y peculiar.

Gran amante de la geometría, este diseñador apuesta por una tipografía mecánica, que realza el sentido de ciencia-ficción y futuro, y juega con ellas para ir desvelando poco a poco el título del film, juega con la idea de suspense, y nos va adentrando poco a poco en el universo del largometraje. Pero es más, va jugando con otra regla de oro del diseño, la simetría. Pensad que un rostro simétrico es bello, ese es nuestro canon.

La simplicidad otra de las reglas de oro del diseño se deja ver claramente en estos rótulos porque sólo hay un movimiento de cámara, es un travelling, que va de izquierda a derecha, en un plano americano que no deja ver por completo la forma real del planeta que aparece en el fondo de la imagen, homenaje al gran maestro Alfred Hitchcock, obliga al espectador a imaginar si es un planeta o un huevo, así de esta manera llegamos a otra de las características de los rótulos de crédito de Bass y es que es capaz de resumir absolutamente el espíritu del film en dos minutos. Pero no olvidemos que el cine es Gestalt, luego hay que hablar de aspectos psicológicos, nosotros leemos de izquierda a derecha, la música comienza con sólo instrumentos dulces de viento, todo para que el espectador se sienta cómodo a pesar de estar viendo una pantalla casi en negro. Pero el tono de los acordes irán cambiando a medida que el travelling sobre el ecuador del planeta llegue a la mitad del movimiento, allí nos toparemos con a medio camino de un increíble in crescendo que lleva de la mano al espectador. Y es el momento en el que ya tenemos todos los instrumentos (cuerda, viento y percusión), que se correlaciona con el momento justo donde tenemos en pantalla el punto de origen de la criatura. Y cuando Bass nos desvela el título del largometraje por completo, en ese mismo instante nos hallaremos en el clímax del crescendo de la suite de Goldsmith, a caballo entre lo romántico y lo barroco, entre la belleza, el misterio ante lo desconocido. Creando un paroxismo curioso, que se difumina rápidamente a medida que volvemos al universo en general y mediante un encadenado aparece la Nostromo en cuadro en la parte izquierda del fotograma y arranca verdaderamente la película.

No puedo evitar contaros una coincidencia cósmica, Saul Bass había coincidido con Helen Horton, que en “Alien” presta su voz al ordenador central a “Madre”, en un film que dirigió en 1974 llamado “Sucesos en la cuarta fase” e intepretaba en esa ocasión a Mildred Eldridch, y también coincidiría con John Barry, el director de fotografia no el músico, del que hablaremos en “los hijos bastardos”.

LA LARGA MANO DE JOSEPH CONRAD

Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski, más conocido como Joseph Conrad, es un célebre autor de novela de aventuras, y cuya bibliografía ha conocido más de una adaptación cinematográfica. Tanto Gordon Caroll como Ridley Scott son dos grandes admiradores del autor, eligió para su debut en la pantalla grande “Los duelistas”, que realizó de la mano del célebre productor David Puttnam, todo un cazatalentos, y la acción nos trasladaba a las guerras napoleónicas donde podíamos asistir a un duelo sin fin protagonizado por Harvey Keitel y Keith Carradine. Así que ponerle el nombre de “La Nostromo” a la nave es un homenaje más en su filmografía a la obra de Conrad. Esta novela de Conrad ha conocido alguna ambiciosa adaptación televisiva, en la que actores de la talla de Colin Firth, Albert Finney,  Brian Dennehy, Joaquim de Almeida, Lothaire Bluteau o Claudia Cardinale, acompañaban a Claudio Amendola que daba vida al famoso personaje que da nombre a la serie y a la novela, pero que en su momento pasó sin pena ni gloria. Lo verdaderamente curioso es que la novela se centra en un país imaginario sudamericano llamado Costaguana, y Sulaco es el nombre de la ciudad portuaria, y no podemos dejar de pasar por alto que el nombre de la nave en “ALIENS”, segunda parte de esta franquicia dirigida por James Cameron, no es otro que el de la citada urbe ribereña, y en la novela es donde se centra la vida de los personajes y la acción fundamental. Y Ridley Scott no deja de construir un relato de terroríficas aventuras espaciales de siete personaje, en la que el viaje sideral marcará a fuego al personaje principal. Pero hay coincidencias con el universo de Conrad. Un importante dato es que el escritor ucraniano vivió la época álgida del colonialismo, la lucha contra las corporaciones y el capitalismo, y todo ello se haya como telón de fondo de esta aventura peculiar. Idea barajada tanto en Nostromo como en ”El corazón de las tinieblas”, donde reflejará la barbarie del universo colonial africano del siglo XIX, y en el que veremos como el personaje realiza un viaje y lucha contra una corporación. Francis Ford Coppola la adaptó libremente al cine en su célebre film bélico “Apocalypse Now”.

LO COTIDIANO

Scott juega con la vida cotidiana al igual que pasa en alguno de sus antecedentes, pero el lo lleva un paso más allá. Así, en primer lugar elimina el machismo de versiones previas e introduce otros problemas como las reivindicaciones salariales, como cuando Brett le comenta a Dallas durante el desayuno que no está de acuerdo con lo que van a cobrar o cuando le pide una gratificación monetaria por ir a investigar la señal desconocida llegando a una acalorada discusión con el capitán de la nave.

Inclusive las actitudes de los trabajadores, como la que muestra personajes como Parker, absolutamente insubordinado, crítico con las decisiones de los mandos, mostrando una actitud cínica hacia la empresa,  llegando incluso a tomarles el pelo, diciendo que tiene que emplear más horas de lo debido para terminar de arreglar la nave.

El racismo, como en la escena en la que Parker le hace levantar a Ash de su asiento y lo limpia con la mano o la introducción de terminología marítima como cuando utilizan los términos virar a babor o a estribor en la escena del aterrizaje o aeronáutica, en la anterior escena podemos escuchar ”llegando al apogeo orbital”, “recoger el tren de aterrizaje”, “conectar la gravedad artificial” o “turbulencias”.

Otro ejemplo lo encontramos cuando están tratando de averiguar en que punto del espacio Kane manda a Ripley que contacte con control de tráfico:

Esta es la astronave comercial “Nostromo”. Número de registro 180924609. Me reciben. Astronave comercial “Nostromo” de las Islas Solomon. Me reciben. Número de registro 180924609. Espero contestación…llamando a Antártica, control de tráfico.

NARRATIVA FÍLMICA

El film arranca con múltiples travellings de carácter descriptivos, con amplios planos generales que nos ubican en el entorno, nos describen con todo tipo de detalles como es la nave por fuera, por dentro, nos muestra sus largos corredores. Así Scott, saca partido a todo el diseño de Jean Giraud, más conocido como “Moebius” y Ron Cobb, creadores de todo este particular universo de aspecto industrial, recordad que los personajes de la trama no dejan de ser mineros espaciales. Moebius procedía del mundo del cómic y escribía para la revista “Metal Hurlant”, mientras que Cobb  procedía de la serie B y había colaborado previamente con Dan O’Bannon en una inmensa gamberrada espacial dirigida por John Carpenter llamada “Dark Star“, para la que hizo los diseños y los efectos especiales. Os dejo enlace a un gran artículo sobre los diseños de Cobb aparecido en Microsiervos.

Para pasar a primeros planos, todo dentro del mismo travelling, y mostrarnos la recepción del mensaje, que hará despertar a la tripulación, y les embarcará en esta barroca aventura.

Scott da mucho dinamismo a la cámara, sobre todo cuando los personajes suelen tender a estar estáticos en el espacio y viceversa. Así suele fusionar  panorámicas a los travellings, y todos son a contra lectura, para generar desasosiego en una escena cotidiana de la vida mediante la incomodidad física de la lectura. Eso da idea de la exquisita planificación que posee de la escena, al margen de sus conocimientos como cineasta. Así, la secuencia del desayuno se erige como todo un gran ejemplo de la técnica narrativa del director británico afincado en EEUU. Hace un barrido del comedor de izquierda a derecha para acabar centrando el foco de atención en Kane, que posee una línea de diálogo muy profética, al decir que se siente que está muerto.

Uno de los múltiples aciertos de Scott frente a sus predecesores es dotar a las transiciones en las que podemos ver como pasa la nave por delante del encuadre, de un verdadero sentido narrativo dentro del largometraje. Así pues, serán verdaderos puntos y seguidos, que otorgan un cierto alivio a la intensidad de la narración, pero que no dejan de otorgar dinamicidad a la narración. Llegados otra vez  a este punto debemos de hace hincapié en el desarrollo de movimiento. La nave siempre ira a contra lectura, con lo que el alivio es menor, porque inconscientemente marca un stress de lectura al espectador, generándole una cierta ansiedad.

Pero será tras la muerte de Kane que estas transiciones se harán de otra manera, esto es debido que ahora servirán para dar respiros en la intensidad de la narración realmente, pero siempre marcando un punto y seguido. Para ello, siempre veremos pasar la nave pero ya no será un movimiento a favor o en contra de la lectura, es decir de derecha a izquierda o viceversa, ahora será de atrás a delante, siempre alejándose en el sentido del eje de la x espacialmente, bien sea viendo la superior a vista de pájaro o…

la parte inferior de la nave.

Esta película posee una narración muy intensa, por todo lo anteriormente expuesto más que su director abusa intencionadamente de dos recursos: primeros planos y los planos americanos. Es como si en un texto comenzara a poner muchos adjetivos y adverbios tanto a los sustantivos como a los verbos. Puede llegar a ser extenuante, pero que en este caso es eficaz. Pero además le sirve por un lado para no mostrar completamente a la criatura, por otro juega con el fuera de campo, lo que se encuentra fuera del cuadro, obligando de estas dos maneras al espectador a usar la imaginación, y a veces aterroriza más lo que uno se imagina que lo que uno ve realmente. Pero, quiero destacar que usa de una manera muy hitchcockniana los primeros planos calificando a la criatura mediante una herramienta de montaje llamada efecto kuleshsov, y que gracias a Redrum podréis acabar de entender en que consiste.

HITCHCOCK EXPLICA EL RECURSO DEL PRIMER PLANO

Pero que sea intensa no quiere decir que sea rápida, y es ahí donde encontramos otro de los grandes aciertos, el ritmo pausado de la narración que le permite a Terry Rawlings montador y a Scott, poder elegir cuándo y cómo asustar al espectador, y crear así un ambiente idóneo donde sustentar el thriller.

Así pues, es prácticamente imposible que el espectador desconecte del film, aquí hay que hablar del montaje realizado por el siempre genial Terry Rawlings, montador de las tres primeras partes de la franquicia, y que en este particular caso hace un trabajo soberbio al saber gradar muy bien los momentos de tensión que había planificado con anterioridad el director al otorgarle toda una serie de elementos con los que poder jugar, porque no debéis olvidar que en la sala de montaje no puedes rodar lo que no tienes, ese momento ya pasó. Y a veces, sobran cosas, que no aportan mucho más y pueden hacer perder ritmo al film. Así llegamos a la versión del director, que particularmente opino que nunca debería haber existido, las nuevas escenas, eliminadas por Rawlings en su momento, están bien quitadas, porque hacen perder ritmo al metraje y tampoco es que aporten nada novedoso, como si lo hizo Cameron con la idea de la Reina. Sobre todo, porque este film juega un poco a ser un relato de Agatha Christie, y al igual que “La cosa” de John Carpenter, juega a ser una variante de “Los diez negritos”, porque desde el principio sabemos quién es el asesino, pero al final sólo quedan la víctima y el verdugo, Ripley y Alien llevándonos a un duelo espacial muy particular, en el que los personajes apenas carecen de armas, y deberán jugar con la astucia, sobre todo la teniente para poder defenderse.

El recurso de la grúa en el film sólo lo usa en una ocasión, se trata de la secuencia que tiene lugar en el interior de la nave alienígena, con el que consigue pasar de un plano americano de Kane a un plano general del interior en contrapicado para realzar más la idea de lo pequeños y vulnerables que son los tres protagonistas.

El lector y espectador de esta magnífica película no debe olvidar que está gestada a finales de la década de los setenta, los gustos narrativos dentro del género estaban en plena evolución, y la corriente del gore cobraba cada vez más fuerza, como ya habíamos visto en películas como “No profanar el sueño de los muertos”, de Jorge Grau. Pero Scott en un giro de tuerca, llega a estilizar el gore, y mostrarlo con una gran dosis de asepsia quirúrgica. Las pinceladas son escasas pero contundentes, tres serán las escenas donde podamos apreciar planos que podamos catalogar como gores. Para la primera esperará hasta el minuto 49 de metraje de la versión del director para ofrecérnosla en una verdadera orgía hemoglobínica cuando irrumpe en escena el octavo pasajero procedente del interior de Kane…

, y los otros dos planos se hayan en la muerte del Brett y Parker.

La bibliografía es extensa y variada que avala esta idea, pero el mayor testigo de todo ello es Ivor Powell, productor asociado del film y mano derecha del realizador británico, reconoce en el documental de Lauzirika que el cineasta impuso al equipo ver “La matanza de Texas” de Tobe Hooper realizada en 1974, máximo referente del género gore y obra de culto, sin albergar la menor duda.

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE-TOBE HOOPER-1974

Puedes continuar leyendo el monográfico en:

• LA CRIATURA PERFECTA 
• ANTECEDENTES

Claudia Cardinale, "Once Upon a Time in the West"

 I’m not going to add much to the encyclopaedia’s worth of stuff written about this, surely the greatest Western ever made.  The audacity of killing off Woody Strode and Jack Elam in the first scene; those locomotives, screaming and screeching their way through virgin landscape; the casting-against-type of Henry Fonda, Hollywood’s decentest man, as a psychopath; that unforgettable, instantly recognisable Ennio Morricone score; and, most of all, that final, glorious  gunfight, Fonda’s eyes flickering momentarily right and left to judge the best angle of the sun to gain an advantage against the stony-faced Charles Bronson.

I first saw this in 1968 in the George cinema in Barrhead.  You have no idea what Claudia Cardinale’s mascara and cleavage did for my bedtime fantasies - I must have rescued her from a whole trainload of  bad guys, and then didn’t know what to do with her afterwards  - or how much the smirking, spitting Fonda frightened the shite out of me.  Seeing it again on a big, big screen, beautifully restored, is one of life’s infinite pleasures.

Oh, Henry Fonda!  Oh, Charles Bronson!  Oh, oh, oh, Claudia Cardinale!

Jag gillar westernfilmer. Allan Ladd, Cary Grant, 3:10 to Yuma (båda versionerna), James Stewart, De dog med stövlarna på och naturligtvis Sergio Leones westernssviter
Om vi stannar kvar vid Sergio ett tag och glömmer bort resten av klassen för idag. Längst fram här står ju Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef, Dollar-filmerna, Den gode, den onde, den fule. Men om vi ställer oss på tå och tittar bakom de här figurerna skymtar vi Henry Fonda, Claudia Cardinale och Charles Bronson där bakom. Lite oförtjänt bortglömda får jag säga. För egentligen är nog eposet Once upon a time in the west den absolut bästa westernfilmen. Och även så välgjord att den kan kliva ur westerngarderoben och stå bland alla andra klassiska filmer. Läs bara hur man övertalade Henry Fonda att spela skurken, Frank.
Fonda did not accept Leone’s first offer to play Frank, so Leone flew to New York to convince him, telling him: “Picture this: the camera shows a gunman from the waist down pulling his gun and shooting a running child. The camera tilts up to the gunman’s face and…it’s Henry Fonda.”

Alla borde se OUATiTW! Om inte annat för musiken. Ennios komposition, som enligt legenden gjordes före filmen, är så välgjord och filmen så perfekt anpassad till den att det blir något alldeles särskilt särskilt.
*****SPOILER*******
Om ni inte tror mig. Det här är slutduellen i filmen.

Jag gråter en tår när jag tänker på att fler går och ser en Johan Falk än bäddar in sig med tre timmars utmärkt drama.

-Johan Falk. The man with the accordion.

Monica Bellucci

Monica Anna Maria Bellucci (born 30 September 1964) is an Italian actress and fashion model.

Bellucci’s film career began in the early 1990s. In 1992, she made her first appearance in a major English-language film as one of Dracula’s brides in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. She became known and popular with worldwide audiences, following her roles in Malèna (2000), Brotherhood of the Wolf(2001), and Irréversible (2002), though is perhaps best known for her role as Persephone in The Matrix Reloaded (2003) and The Matrix Revolutions (2003), followed by her portrayal of Mary Magdelene in The Passion of the Christ (2004).

In 2003, Bellucci starred in Tears of the Sun as a doctor in Nigeria being rescued by the U.S., and in 2005 in the fantasy film The Brothers Grimm as a beautiful evil queen. Her latest films are The Stone Council (2006) by Guillaume Nicloux, and Manuale d’amore 2 (2007), where she portrays a physiotherapist, who is the object of the desire of her patient. She was supposed to be seen portraying Indian politician Sonia Gandhi in the biopic Sonia, originally planned for release in 2007, but now shelved. September 2007 saw the release of Shoot ‘Em Up, where she plays a prostitute, opposite Clive Owen. She dubbed her own voice for the French and Italian releases of the film.

She filmed Le deuxième souffle (2006), with Daniel Auteuil, Michel Blanc and Eric Cantona.Bellucci also voiced Kaileena in the video game Prince of Persia: Warrior Within, and the French voice of Cappy for the French version of the 2005 animated film Robots.In 2007, she appeared in Heartango (2007), a film for Intimissimi, with José Fidalgo and directed by Gabriele Muccino.

Trivia:

She appeared in a black & white TV commercial for Dolce & Gabbana. The director was Giuseppe Tornatore, who also directed her in the movie Malèna (2000).

Measurements: 35C-24-35 (Source: Celebrity Sleuth magazine.)

Fluent in Italian, English, French and Spanish.

Daughter-in-law of Jean-Pierre Cassel.

Made a nude calendar for the Italian magazine Max in 1998 and another one for the Italian magazine GQ in 2000.

Was originally cast as Mina Harker in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003) but had to drop out due to a scheduling conflict. The part then went to Peta Wilson.

Wears a size 10 shoe.

Studied jurisprudence for a short time.

Daughter, Deva Cassel (b. 12 September 2004 in Rome, Italy).

Engaged to actor Nicola Farron from 1990 to 1995.

She was elected the most beautiful woman in the world by French viewers on a TV show “La Plus belle femme du monde” on 8th November 2004.

One of the world’s top fashion models.

Favourite poem is “A Silvia” by Giacomo Leopardi.

Has her look-alike puppet in the French show “Les guignols de l’info” (1988).

She ranked #6 in Maxim’s ‘50 Sexiest Women’ (1999).

She ranked #9 in Maxim’s ‘100 Sexiest Women’ (2002).

She ranked #1 in Askmen’s ‘Most Desirable Woman’ (2002).

Italian citizen.

Shares birthday with Marion Cotillard, Deborah Kerr and Angie Dickinson.

Favorite movie is Una giornata particolare (1977) by Ettore Scola.

Her role as Chantal in “Under suspicion” was held by Romy Schneider in the original film:”Garde à vue”.

Owns an apartment in London.

Doesn’t always live with her husband Vincent Cassel, for avoiding routine the two live in separate apartments; she lives most of the time in London and he lives in Paris.

Bellucci is a typical surname from center Italy, it comes from the Latin word “Bellutus”, and has the same root as surnames like Belluto, Belluti, Belluzzo, Belluccio, or the aristocratic surname of Belluzzi.

Monica Bellucci in The Sorcerer's Apprentice

She speaks to her daughter Deva Cassel in Italian.

She has said in an interview that Sophia Loren and Claudia Cardinale have inspired her acting career.

Ranked as #89 in FHM’s “100 Sexiest Women in the World 2005″ special supplement. (2005)

Member of the jury at the Cannes Film Festival in 2006

Supports the Italian football team.

Has a wax statue in the Grevin Museum in Paris.

Her parents are Pasquale Bellucci (the owner of a trucking company) and Brunella (a painter).She’s an only child.

Good friends with Guillaume Canet.

Ranked #5 on E! Entertainment Networks list of “101 Sexiest Celebrity Bodies” list of 2006.

Attended University of Perugia.

Mother is painter Maria Gustinelli.

Chosen by Empire magazine as one of the 100 Sexiest Stars in film history (#35). [2007].

Her best friend is Ilaria D’Amico.

Adevarata poveste a Ma­riei Basescu scoate la iveala amanunte necunoscute pana azi despre familia pre­ziden­tiala. Reporterii CanCan au dezvaluit ieri ca prima doam­na obisnuia, in adoles­centa, sa-si petreaca vacan­tele de vara la rudele din partea mamei, in satul Arbore, la 30 de kilometri de Suceava. Acolo a trait si o secreta po­veste de dragoste. Fostul iubit al Mariei a acceptat sa vor­beasca in premiera despre relatia lor!

Maria Rusu este matusa primei doamne. Fe­meia are 70 de ani si – ne lamureste batrana – “l-am tinut de om pe fratele lu’ Aurica (Aurora Andrusca, mama Ma­riei Basescu – n.n.). Maricica (asa cum o stiu rudele pe sotia lui Traian Basescu – n.n.) a co­pi­larit la noi, in casa asta, si ea si sor’sa, Stela, care acu’ e bi­bli­o­tecara la Suceava! Erau doua fete painea lu’ Dumnezeu”. Ma­tusa Mariei isi aminteste ca prima doamna “se juca cat e zi­ua de mare pe ulita cu Marita a lu’ Scai… pe ea o cheama Marita si, parca… Bivolar”. Tot Maria Rusu ne-a marturisit ca “si Ma­ricica, si Stela erau primele la scoala”, iar “cu baietii erau asa si asa… ca nu le lasa Arghir, bar­batu’ meu (unchiul Mariei Ba­sescu- n.n.) sa nu ne faca de ras. E… veneau flacaii la noi in poarta, da’ ele nu se da­deau…”. Totusi, in Ar­bo­re, a fost un baiat care i-a ajuns la inima actualei doamne Ba­ses­cu. “Era baiatu’ lu’ Roman, de-i zice “Ceapa”, d-aici din sat, care-i acu’ pro­fe­sor de matematica”, ne-a desta­nuit matusa Mariei.

Reporterii CanCan l-au gasit pe Dimitrie Ur­san, caci el este misteriosul pro­­­fesor “Cea­pa”, la cursuri, la Scoa­la ge­ne­rala din Ar­bo­re. “Aaa… Ma­ri­cica?! Ce sa va zic? Eu a­cum am ne­vas­ta si sunt la casa mea… Era fru­moasa si fudula pe masura. Ii placea sa-i spun ca e ca Sophia Loren! Avea si poze cu actrita si semana bucatica rupta. Stela, sor’sa, era cu Claudia Cardinale. Avea si ea poza cu aia. Maricica nu prea iesea in sat si de asta eu ma du­ceam la unchiu-su’ acasa ca sa joc sah si s-o mai vad. Le tinea din scurt, caci bunicul lor, mos Sa­moila, Dumnezeu sa-l odih­neas­ca, era dur. Fusese sef la banca in sat, dadea bani cu dobanda si avea si seif in casa. Acum sa va zic si altele… nu pot, fiecare e la casa lui si… la urma urmei, zic si eu ca nici nu stiu!”, ni s-a confesat profesorul “Ceapa”.

 
Parintii Mariei : Aurora si Gheorghe (era Militian)  Andrusca (dreapta)
Parintii lui Traian Basescu:  Jenica si Petrache Basescu (stanga)
Gheorghe si Aurora (era invataoare) au locuit la batranul Gherasim Circu in satul Cajvana, cu chirie, acolo s-a nascut Maria Andrusca Basescu.

Nea Bogdan Ciobaca a cunoscut-o si el pe Ma­ria Basescu: “Era un copil painea lui Dumnezeu. Eu am 80 de ani, ea era mai mica atunci… dadea bomboane la baietii din sat, ca era fata de boieroaica de la oras!”.
Maria Basescu a trecut ul­tima data prin Arbore, cand ma­tusa ei si-a dus barbatul la groapa. “Cand l-am ingropat pe Arghir a fost si Maricica, cu omu’ ei, cu Tra­ian, la po­mana. Maricica il iubea pe Arghir, ca si ea si Stela au fost sufletul lui! Am mai vorbit doar la telefon cu ele, ca m-a mai sunat Maricica de la Bucuresti sa vada cum o duc. Mi-a zis odata ca, daca am nevoie de bani, ne da ea si Traian, da’
n-am avut nevoie… cum sa le cer eu lor bani?!”, ne-a mai declarat Maria Rusu. Femeia il are ajutor la batranete pe fiul ei, care-i var cu prima doamna si care si-a ridicat o casa peste drum de mama lui. Va­­­­­rul Mariei Ba­sescu este pom­pier in sat, dar, dupa cum ne ex­plica, “eu tra­iesc din vanzarea de vite. Taman ce mi-a fatat o vitica si sunt tare bu­curos… Ia uitati-le colea in grajd, ca sunt tare mandru de ele…”, sa faleste varul Mariei Basescu.

Parintii:  Gheorghe si Aurora Andruşcă

Si in privinta lui Traian, rudele Mariei din Arbore au doar cuvinte de lauda. Matusa lui, tanti Maria Rusu, nu-l pomeneste decat de bine: “Traian e baiat bun. Soacra-sa, Aurica, il are la suflet. E ginerele ei preferat, pentru ca-i da bani si bea mai putin decat celalalt ginere al ei. Celalalt, sotul Stelei, s-a prapadit din cauza bauturii si au si divortat… Apoi, Traian tine la casa si nu a lasat-o pe Maricica si nu si-a lasat nici fetele, care sunt frumoase foc, ca ma-sa! Mi-e asa de dor de ei… si de Maricica si de Stela si de Traian… ca ei sunt ai mei!”. Tanti Maria isi stinge insa focul dorului cu un morman de poze de la nunta Mariei si a lui Traian, poze pe care le tine dosite, sub televizorul alb-ne­gru din casa: “E bune si pozele maica, ca ii mai vad si asa mai vorbesc cu ei…”.

Scritto nel 1961 da Leonardo Sciascia e ispirato a fatti realmente avvenuti, IL GIORNO DELLA CIVETTA è un vero capolavoro di letteratura poliziesca. C’è un delitto alla prima pagina (a cui se ne aggiunge subito un secondo, “uno che sapeva troppo”), segue una dettagliata indagine… e i colpevoli restano impuniti.

TRAMA ESSENZIALE. Viene ucciso un piccolo (anzi piccolissimo) imprenditore che rifiutava di pagare il pizzo. I carabinieri (guidati dall’energico capitano Bellodi) riescono, grazie alla soffiata di un confidente, a far confessare gli esecutori materiali e ad arrestare il mandante, il capomafia Mariano Arena. Ma quest’ultimo ha “santi in paradiso”. Si muove il Ministro degli Interni e Bellodi si vede togliere il caso. Alla fine della storia cammina per le strade di Parma insieme a un amico. Sa che tutti gli indagati sono stati rimessi in libertà, ma non è rassegnato: tornerà in Sicilia.

Particolarmente istruttiva è la figura del “confidente”. Calogero Dibella, detto Parrinieddu, è un malavitoso, ammanicato con le cosche, ma passa ogni tanto informazioni preziosissime ai carabinieri.

Ad un certo punto si accorge di aver parlato troppo: gli “amici” hanno decretato la sua morte e gli ultimi giorni della sua vita sono descritti come una via crucis di ansie, ripensamenti, trasalimenti e disperazione. Due colpi di pistola alle spalle gli daranno l’eterna pace.

Altrettanto ben descritta è la figura del vecchio mafioso Mariano Arena. Interrogato dal cap. Bellodi, don Mariano delinea con massime lapidarie la sua “filosofia”: non c’è altra verità che la morte, l’umanità è “una bella parola piena di vento”, uccidere un uomo è difficile perché è difficile trovare un vero uomo.

Apro parentesi. Qualche anno fa avevo proposto questo romanzo alle alunne e agli alunni di terza per il gioco di BOOKLAND. Lo hanno letto, ma non è piaciuto a nessuno. I giovani non ce la fanno a digerire il finale: la legge italiana sconfitta dal potere mafioso. Chiusa la parentesi.

Giriamo pagina, parliamo della versione cinematografica.

Diretto da Damiano Damiani nel 1968, il film si prende (come sempre in questi casi) molte libertà.

• L’omicidio iniziale avviene in aperta campagna e non nella piazza, davanti a tutti. Forse perchè le scene di massa sono difficili e costose (bisogna pagare le comparse…), forse perché il romanzo descriveva impietosamente il fenomeno dell’omertà siciliana.
• L’appoggiarsi di don Mariano Arena al partito della Democrazia Cristiana (che Sciascia lasciava capire solo per indizi) è sottolineato esplicitamente.
• Viene gonfiata (comprensibilmente, al cinema ci vogliono sempre ruoli femminili) la parte di una ”vedova di mafia” (che nel romanzo occupava poche pagine) affidandola a Claudia Cardinale.

Bel film, comunque, e ben recitato. Bellodi ha gli occhi azzurri di Franco Nero, Parrinieddu è interpretato da quel grande attore che era Serge Reggiani, don Mariano Arena è Lee j. Cobb, specializzato in ruoli da gangster. Ascoltarlo mentre parla con Bellodi di “quella grande assurdità che è la vita” dà i brividi. Anche perchè è doppiato da Corrado Gaipa, lo stesso che aveva qualche anno prima doppiato Burt Lancaster nel Gattopardo.

Adesso, se fate i bravi, ve ne faccio vedere un pezzetto.

In the preceding post we have noticed how contemporary Italian literature and cinema seldom offer wide-fresco works – they perceive the single tree more than the entire forest (read a conversation on this topic.)

Someone affirms that the secret of the forest is instead hidden in Palermo. In Palermo? Why are Palermo and Sicily so special?

While we are searching for an answer in some recent Sicilian novels, we can make a guess. Sicily, like a warm-fleshed woman lying languidly on the sea, was disputed by Greeks and Phoenicians, Spartans and Athenians, Romans and Carthaginians, and later Normans Arabs popes and emperors. Such splendid (and tormented) history might have favoured a depth, a wider look in its people and writers that the Italian (or Tuscan) literature has experienced in its best moments.

Rob has said that writers such as Lampedusa and Sciascia would have known why the secret could be hidden in Palermo.

Ψ

So we’ll look for a glimpse of such wider look in a beautiful passage from Il Gattopardo (The Leopard) by the Sicilian writer Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa (1896 – 1957).

Tomasi di Lampedusa narrates how, soon after Italy’s unification, the honest Piedmont’s official Chevalley [Piedmont, at that time an advanced region, unified Italy in 1861] was sent to implore the Sicilian Prince of Lampedusa [the author's great-grandfather and protagonist of the novel, ] to represent Sicily in the new Italian Senate, “in order to remedy the state of material poverty, of blind and moral misery in which the Sicilian people find themselves, your own people!”

The Prince, smiling and inviting Chevalley to sit down with him on the couch for a while, answered with the same words he had used with some English who, before Giuseppe Garibaldi conquered Palermo, were asking what all these Northern Italians, these Garibaldini, were doing in the South of Italy.

“They are coming to teach us good manners – said to them the Prince in English – but they won’t succeed, because we are gods.“

Then at the end (with poor Chevalley in total dismay because of the Prince’s denial) the aristocrat adds that in Sicily things have not changed and will never change for that ’sense of superiority that glitters in the eye of every Sicilian, that we ourselves call pride (fierezza,) but which is actually blindness.’

An enlightening, though gloomy, reflection.

Note. This ‘pride which is actually blindness’ can be said of all great civilizations on earth that were. If we are worth for what we were, we are much much worthier for what we are.

Past greatness can be a richness, and a consolation, but it is not enough.

Le film de la semaine est un classique de chez les classiques, un must du genre !

Ce film me rappelle l’époque où, ado, ma mère me voyait bien m’habiller avec un vieux cache-poussière…. ah les idées folles des parents !

En tout cas, je remercie mes parents car ce sont eux qui m’ont initié aux films de… western et je ne regrette rien ; et celui qui m’a le plus marqué est Il était une fois dans L’Ouest de Sergio Leone, film de 1968 avec la sublime musique d’Ennio Morricone.

Au-delà de l’histoire, il y a surtout ces personnages très forts, celui joué par Charles Bronson mais aussi celui d’Henry Fonda (c’te regard les gars !), la sublissime Claudia Cardinale et ses courbes sensuelles et l’acteur Jason Robards qui jouait le Cheyenne, sûrement mon personnage favori dans ce chef-d’oeuvre du western spaghetti.

Un film qui a façonné mon imaginaire avec ses décors gigantesques, sa musique omniprésente (je l’écoute toujours quand j’écris), avec cette pointe d’humour distillée comme il se doit.

J’adore notamment la première scène du film, longue, très longue avec tous ces petits détails comme les gouttes d’eau qui tombent sur le chapeau d’un des cowboy, la mouche coincée dans le canon d’un revolver, l’éolienne qui tourne et qui grince avec nonchalence.

Bref, c’est une atmosphère et je ne pouvais qu’adhérer !

Sergio Leone est un réalisateur italien, né le 3 janvier 1929 à Rome (Italie pour ceux qui ne connaissent rien à la géographie), mort le 30 avril 1989 à Rome (toujours en Italie), alors qu’il préparait une adaptation de Salisbury “Les 900 jours de Leningrad”…

…
1984

…
1971

…
1968

Anecdote : la trilogie “il était une fois…”devait être liée à la précédente (la trilogie de “l’homme sans nom” ou “des dollars”) par la première scène de Il était une fois dans l’Ouest. En effet, les trois personnages qui accueillent Charles Bronson à sa sortie du train devaient être interprétés par Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef et Eli Wallach. Cependant Eastwood, dans un souci de carrière professionnelle, ne souhaitait pas mourir dès la première scène du film, Sergio Leone n’a pas pu poursuivre cette idée malgré l’accord des deux autres comédiens.
…
1966

…
1965

…
1964

…

(je trouve qu’il ressemble un peu à Alfred Hitchcock sur cette photo…)
…

…

FILMO
Réalisateur

1959 : Les Derniers Jours de Pompei (Gli Ultimi Giorni di Pompei) co-réalisé avec Mario Bonnard
1960 : Sodome et Gomorrhe co-réalisé avec Robert Aldrich
1961 : Le Colosse de Rhodes (Il Colosso di Rodi)
1964 : Pour une poignée de dollars (Per un pugno di dollari)
1965 : Et pour quelques dollars de plus (Per qualche dollaro in piu)
1966 : Le Bon, la Brute et le Truand (Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo)
1968 : Il était une fois dans l’Ouest (Once Upon a Time in the West — C’era una volta il West)
1971 : Il était une fois la révolution (A Fistful of Dynamite — Giù la testa)
1975 : Un génie, deux associés, une cloche (Un genio, due compari, un pollo)
1984 : Il était une fois en Amérique (Once Upon a Time in America)
1989 : Les 900 jours de Leningrad (film pas fait…)
…
Producteur

1973 : Mon nom est Personne (Il mio nome è Nessuno) de Tonino Valerii
1975 : Un génie, deux associés, une cloche (Un genio, due compari, un pollo) de Damiano Damiani
1977 : Qui a tué le chat ? (Il gatto) de Luigi Comencini
1979 : Un jouet dangereux (Il giocattolo) de Giuliano Montaldo
…

Il Gattopardo (Luchino Visconti, 1963)

Visconti is perhaps the most painterly of directors. Long, slow takes of immense richness. His elaborate visual tableaux are the stars, his characters seem a little frozen. You don’t expect fireworks from them as they know better than to deviate from their roles in this buttoned-up world of nobility, suffused as it is with etiquette. In the extras to this DVD, Claudia Cardinale says she was instructed to “separate your eyes and mouth; your eyes must say the opposite to whatever words you speak”.

All of this does mean that his films are quite demanding and require you to be in a patient mood. Nothing is rushed and The Leopard’s running time of three hours is typical. They’re seldom shown in cinemas but they really are designed for the big screen, where you’re shut up in the dark and kept captive. I’ve never had the experience myself but I’m sure that on le grand ecran his sets would have one drooling (it’s likely that none of this applies to his early neo-realist films about peasants and fishermen, but again I ain’t seen ‘em).  

Tomasi di Lampedusa’s Il Gattopardo (The Leopard), about the twilight of Sicilian aristocracy and the dawn of Italian unification, is known as a classic of Italian literature; I’m sorry to say I never got round to finishing the book. However, with his aristocratic background and the reflective, melancholy feel to his films Visconti must have seemed perfect for the adaptation, and it suits him.

For example- with my favourite actor mincing his way around my favourite city, Death In Venice is hard for me to dislike; but apart from its snail’s pace, the cod-philosophical debate scenes with Mark Burns make me chew my knuckles with embarrassment. The Leopard however makes for an excellent script, liberally sprinkled with glittering jewels of lines (“I know what love is. Fire and flames for one year, ashes for thirty”).

I tried to do some superficial wikipeding to get the story on Garibaldi and Italian unification, but it appears endlessly complicated. Knowing the history would probably make it easier to follow the film but you can pick up the gist. The story is really a changing of the guard; as the Prince recedes, the raffish bourgeois Don Calogero sees his stock rise. His daughter marries the Prince’s nephew and their generation will shape the new Italy.

With great whiskers and sideburns, Burt Lancaster plays the Prince of Salina, descendant of Roman emperors, with dignity, authority and a quiet sadness. It’s a very powerful performance. Feathers in his cap, Alain Delon is all smirking, supremely confident spivvery as his nephew Don Tancredi, the young man on the make. As his betrothed Angelina, Claudia Cardinale gives a lusty, earthy turn which stands out in the decorum of these drawing rooms. One memorable moment has her cause a scene at the dinner table, by roaring uncontrollably when Tancredi shares a ribald anecdote about some old nuns who were waiting to be ravished. Many supporting roles (the Prince’s uptight wife and priest, his hunting partner the village organist) also linger in the memory.

It’s a film that feels far more epic than is ordinary for a costume drama. Nino Rota delivers a swelling, over-the-top orchestral score and the long shots of the Prince and his organist out hunting on the hills, as well as those of his convoy on their way to Donnafugata, give the film a distinct spaghetti western feel. Sicily looks exotic.

Indoors of course it’s all deep focus, the camera discreetly swooping and soaring to take in these magnificent churches and houses. Even the soldier’s corpse found in the Prince’s gardens at the start of the film looks rather pretty, like a Géricault painting.

The titles do their best to build up the nobility; to a stirring score, the camera discloses a great stately home before a mountain range, viewing it from different angles in the tree-lined garden. We see the rows of trees, then the rows of crumbling romanesque busts in the driveway. By the time we’ve approached the house it glides carefully from window to window -we pick up voices- until finding an open window and gingerly crossing the threshold. We see the household praying, led by the priest’s latin. Prayers are disturbed by news of the soldier and Garibaldi’s sweep through the region- the Prince wanders off giving orders. What shall we do?, the weeping women ask the priest. They start praying again. A gently anticlimactic send-up.

When the Prince and Tancredi first meet in a room filled with sports paintings, the nephew is cheeky. He’s in with Garibaldi’s troops and excited by the revolution. They argue, his argument being that “everything has to change so that everything can remain the same”. It seems to hold water with the Prince, who repeats the phrase later. The bourgeois wish not to destroy us, he decides, but to take our place. He repeatedly makes excuses for Tancredi, telling the unconvinced that his behaviour and his politics are “of his time”.

The phrase ringing in his head, the Prince does not change his ways. He rides into the seedy alleyways of Palermo to see his mistress- understandable as the Princess clutches prayer beads in bed and crosses herself every time he touches her. Whilst cannons and cavalry reduce Palermo to rubble, he obstinately takes his family across the roadblocked island to their holiday home in Donnafugata (travel permits obtained in exchange for giving some revolutionary soldiers a tour of the beautiful frescoes in his house).

The village holds a plebiscite on Italian unity and finds itself undercut with delicacy. As the Prince arrives at the polling station, the wind blows dust into the faces of his party. Be grateful for this wind, he tells his priest, without it the air would be fetid. Over the ballot box stands a man with SI and NO voting cards- no pressure then. That evening is a farce; on the crier’s balcony all the candles blow out, and four times the brass band jump in before the result has actually been declared (a unanimous SI).

On a rabbit hunt, the church organist admits to the Prince that he voted NO. The Prince consoles him; they had to be given their election victory to prevent anarchy. However the organist provokes his rage when he opposes the love match between Tancredi and the daughter of the Prince’s “enemy”; Don Calogero is an “example of the new man” whose first thought is to get rich by stripping the church of its land and assets. ”It would constitue surrender… the end of your family”. Calogero can’t believe his luck when he receives the proposal.

The social climbing seems to suit Tancredi. When he and his pals return, they are no longer in the orange tunics of Garibaldi’s army, but the ostentatious buttons and tassles of the King’s army (“people will no longer suspect us of stealing their chickens”). He is received politely by the Prince’s household, when Angelica bursts into the house- wild-eyed, slightly feral and soaked by the rain. She and Tancredi start necking, and her hungry outstretched hands grope at his back. As usual the others don’t know where to look.

The Prince receives a visit from Chevalley, on behalf of the new Italian government. He’s a progressive enlightenment man whose worldview is much less fatalistic than that of most Sicilians he meets; the harsh climate can be improved, we can fix anything and everything. The household amuse themselves by shocking him with tales of the lawlessness and anticlericalism of Sicilians.

The government is looking for good men from all over the kingdom; the Prince is offered the post of Senator (which sounds like the House of Lords). He cordially declines, being “fatally compromised” by his ties to the old order. It’s also a question of character, suggests the reticent Prince. “I lack self-deception, which is vital to convincing others”. He recommends that they give the post to Don Calogero. We know about him, replies an exasperated Chevalley, but we wanted an honest man. Not for the Prince, however, the vanity fair of politics, the call has come too late. He wants to be alone with the ghosts of his ancestry.

The final third of the film is given over to a ball, in which Visconti reaches new heights of opulence. Plenty of deep-focus, the rooms packed with palms, ladies fanning themselves in ballooning gowns, chandeliers, gold-leaf furniture, bewigged servants and waltz music. Bogarde once remarked that the budget for the flowers on Visconti’s The Damned was double the entire budget for Losey’s King & Country and we can well believe it.

The ball features pompous, narcissistic generals, and Angelica’s society début; but the burn-out in Burt Lancaster is the most interesting thing on show. He looks ill, guzzling water and hiding himself away. He laments the inbred quality of the new generation of aristocratic women; “like monkeys, ready to swing from the chandeliers and display their behinds”. He is fixated upon a painting of a dying man, to a degree that disturbs Tancredi and Angelica somewhat.

The latter asks him for a dance and Tancredi is slightly jealous -looking on with a twisted smirk as they waltz, sweating noticeably as the Prince kisses her hand a little to ardently- but after the dance the Prince looks even more forlorn, moving slowly through the party as if dazed. Loneliness is indeed a crowded room. We see Angelica’s eyes still trained on him even as Tancredi kisses her on the mouth.

After interminable tracking shots of young couples gliding over the dancefloor, we finally see morning light creep through the french windows and the guests say their goodbyes. The Prince’s family are waiting in their carriage but he elects to walk home, through the stray cat-strewn slums of Palermo. The film winds up as he kneels and prays to a star.

The marriage ensures that his bloodline will survive, albeit cannibalised by the more rapacious genes of the greedy bourgeois family. The leopards, as the Prince puts it, must make way for the jackals. Snobbish? Certainly, that’s the whole point. A slow, sad, elegy of a film, but as visually rich as the eyes can bear. It’s got a lot of style and it’s got a lot of content. Next time it’s on at the cinema, keep the whole day free and sink yourself into it.

And 8 1/2 was better than Twilight. Two more after the cut.

Once Upon a Time in the West (Sergio Leone, 1968)

A bit of spaghetti western, courtesy of the NFT’s new reprint. Westerns are an achilles heel in my film knowledge- never got round to John Ford, &c. But they’re so ingrained in our cultural memory that all the stock western elements in this film were instantly familiar to me; swinging saloon doors, feisty whores, the sherriff’s badge, duels at high noon.

For all that and all the allusions to other westerns that I’m told scatter this film, I was actually reminded a few times of Antonioni. Enigmatic, estranged figures pitched into a bleak and inhospitable environment. Awed, panoramic views of arid desert littered by huge, curiously-shaped rocks. Slowness of pace and sparsity of dialogue. After a while the film does settle into a more conventional form of storytelling, but it was the opening sequences that I found really powerful.

It starts at a small station in the middle of the desert. The station master is an ancient, crazy-looking Italian peasant; maybe he just has one of those faces but I’m sure I’ve seen him in things before (to my irritation I can’t work out who he is from the list of uncredited parts on imdb). Three cowboys enter the makeshift wooden hut from three directions; each is introduced with the camera at their feet, then slowly moving up to disclose a pistol in the belt, and finish on the kind of face you wouldn’t like to encounter on a dark night. On the big screen, the close-up brings out the stubble and grease on their faces, the dirt and dust caked into their clothes. They look positively brobdignagian.

As they loom over the terrified official, he stammers and stutters. You can’t buy tickets here, you have to go round… but I suppose you can get them here. Three tickets for you? $7.50. Without a word, the ringleader lifts him by the throat. The tickets flutter to the ground. The station master is thrown into a broom cupboard as the ringleader lifts a finger to his lips.

In silence, they wait for the train. Water drips onto the hat of one. He waits motionless for a few minutes, then takes off his hat and drinks. Another is irritated by a buzzing  fly that continually lands on his lip. It goes on forever. Eventually he traps the fly in the barrel of his gun, his finger over the end. Against all odds, it’s riveting to watch.

The train comes, leaves, and on the opposite platform we see Harmonica (Charles Bronson). Across the train tracks they exchange a few tentative words, before Bronson pulls out his gun and shoots the three dead. The next scene shows a patriarchal frontier family preparing a feast for the arrival of the father’s new wife, when yet more cowboys turn up and kill them all; the big chief Frank (Henry Fonda) saving a trembling little boy of 5 or 6 for last. We quickly learn that we shouldn’t get too attached to any of the dramatis personae.

Fonda is an archetypal Hollywood good guy (12 Angry Men et al) so it’s a fairly bold statement to introduce him in this way- as if it was Connie Fisher who had got the Antichrist gig. You get the sense that there’s a lot going on behind those big blue eyes and his innately kindly face lends a bit more complexity to this man-in-black bad guy than most might have managed.

Indeed, although the four main parts are all well-weathered western ‘types’ we get four impressive performances. Claudia Cardinale is the strong, independent woman who turns up in town to find her new husband and stepchildren killed- a crowd around the house parts to reveal the four corpses laid out on the four banquet tables, a macabre touch. She decides to stand her ground in the frontier town, carry on hubby’s work and stick up to all the vultures around her. There’s a cold pragmatism to her, which is what keeps her alive out there. The outlaws can rape her if they really wish to, she tells them, but “a tub of hot water and I’ll be exactly what I was before”. The lady’s not for turning or breaking.

Jason Robards is Cheyenne, the bandit that Frank frames for the killing of the family and who later teams up with Bronson. Another hard-man part but he is droll, detached and sparkles in a slightly more peripheral role; particularly good in his scenes with Cardinale. “You remind me of my mother. She was the biggest whore in Alameda and the finest woman that ever lived”.

Then there’s Charlie Bronson and his harmonica. I recently saw Bronson in the astonishing Death Wish. I suspect he would be wooden in anything other than a silent, vengeful assassin role, but his sad, simian face and his tiny pine nut eyes have an inscrutability that’s just right. His mission is to kill Fonda in a particular way, and he’ll pass up any amount of chances to eliminate him until everything is just so. What’s eating Bronson is not revealed until the very end, but it proves that his character is straight out of a Jacobean revenge tragedy.

Before watching this film I’d never quite appreciated the fuss about Ennio Morricone, but I do now. His tunes stick in your head. There’s the epic motif, with strings and female cooing, that perfectly complements the widescreen panoramic views of the wild west. There’s the ‘Horse With No Name’-ish main theme. The sentimental theme for Cardinale, Bronson’s stark harmonica tune, and the twanging steel guitars when a showdown is brewing. But even when there’s no music, Leone shows a great appreciation of the importance of sounds to create an atmosphere. The opening scene is a case in point. In addition howling wind, murmuring crickets and amplified footsteps are deployed, then withdrawn, to great effect throughout.

The camera is put at the service of this yarn, making places and people seem larger-than-life. Memorable moments include the camera rising and rising above the station platform to reveal the bustling new town of Flagstone in the background. When Frank meets the train of Morton, his invalid mogul boss, and finds that everyone has been killed in a shootout with Cheyenne’s gang, the camera crawls along the length of the train at floor level, showing the bullet-ridden corpses strewn across the ground in various poses. When Cardinale saves her skin by submitting to a tryst with Fonda, the camera discloses them face to face. Then it zooms back rapidly, rotating 90 degrees- they are horizontal on the bed together.

As Bronson and Fonda prepare for their duel the viewpoint changes several times, the camera rotating round each figure, as they are in turn shifted from the edge of the frame to the centre. Bronson has his flashback to boyhood- Fonda has put his brother in a noose and his feet on young CB’s shoulders. He shoves the harmonica into the lad’s mouth and his henchmen look on laughing. Quick jump cuts through a series of sadistic, chuckling faces. One of the men is biting into a tomato- a brilliant touch.

The story is that Cardinale’s man was punished for his enterprise and initative. The steam railroad is working its way through the desert, and he had bought the land with the only water wells 50 miles west of Flagstone; there will have to be a station, and a town, in this spot. Monroe and Frank want that land by hook or by crook, but Cardinale realises what she’s sitting on and isn’t going to be bullied.

It’s a changing world we see and the film serves as an elegy for the wild west. Where the railroad stretches to, civilisation follows in its wake- with houses, markets, hotels, theatres. Making wilderness comfortably habitable makes it soar in value. Robards speculates that Cardinale’s new town could bring in “hundreds of thousands… thousands of thousands”. “They’re called millions,” Bronson informs him. Robards rolls this new word around his tongue. He likes the sound of it.

This aspect of the film reminded me of Losey’s Stanley Baker vehicle The Criminal- lone mavericks get taken out of the game by organisations with their sights trained on monopoly. Frank sits behind Morton’s desk as they plan their next move, and is asked how it feels. “Like holding a gun. Only much more powerful”. When Morton and Frank quarrel, a wad of banknotes is enough to turn Frank’s posse against him.

At the end of the film, with Bronson disappearing into the horizon, the building of the new town is in full swing. The land is filled with hundreds of frenetic labourers, all of them working like ants to lay foundations, put down rail tracks and put up the new buildings. The last words are spoken by Cheyenne, who lies down in a ditch to die unnoticed. We feel that the wild west is certain to die with him.

Leone already had spaghetti westerns under his belt, and this is an all-encompassing film in the genre that throws in all the stock elements, mythical-sized characters, and an explanation of why the west was lost. At a whopping three hours, it felt like they were trying to create something major which would be regarded as the last word in westerns and the last word on the wild west. It’s such an accomplished piece of cinema that I’ll gladly buy it as such.

Also Tonight: Cybill at Smith, Fonda Salute – Roger Catlin | TV Eye

But today&s Henry Fonda roster includes one film, surprisingly, that has never previously been shown on TCM – John Ford&s 1940 American classic The Grapes of Wrath (8 p.m.) followed by another network premiere, the film in which Fonda …

But today&s Henry Fonda roster includes one film, surprisingly, that has never previously been shown on TCM – John Ford&s 1940 American classic The Grapes of Wrath (8 p.m.) followed by another network premiere, the film in which Fonda …

Are you a fan of Flight of The Conchordes? Well, you&re in luck! Murray (Rhys Darby) will be performing some of his comedic antics this week at the Henry Fonda Music Box. Want to join in on the fun? Well,…

Are you a fan of Flight of The Conchordes? Well, you&re in luck! Murray (Rhys Darby) will be performing some of his comedic antics this week at the Henry Fonda Music Box. Want to join in on the fun? Well,…

Although they never seem to be too far from each other, the She and the Him reunited last night for a few songs during M. Ward&s very sold out show at Henry Fonda Theater. Matt ran the spread, from whisper…

1962: Il Gattopardo di Luchino Visconti

“Solo Visconti, comunista e aristocratico, poteva con tanta sottigliezza dosare il grado di scetticismo e di poetica nostalgia del principe di fronte alle questioni sociali e politiche dell’epoca… E’ il film di Visconti più equilibrato, più misurato, più puro e più accurato” (Alberto Moravia, L’Espresso), “Frutto di uno sforzo produttivo eccezionale, Il Gattopardo… è di una assoluta qualità” (Filippo Sacchi, Il Corriere della Sera): così la critica si espresse all’uscita del film quasi cinquant’anni fa.

Definito da Lino Micciché  “un’opera di transizione: dal primo Visconti (quello dei film neorealistici) in cui il mondo oggettivo riesce a prevalere, al secondo Visconti, in cui le tematiche del decadentismo e del crepuscolo hanno il sopravvento sulle urgenze della Storia, dell’Ideologia e della Politica”, Il Gattopardo è un sontuoso e affascinante affresco a cui non mancano poesia e intimismo (più volte il regista affermò che questo suo lavoro aveva l’ambizione di unificare Verga e Proust). Pur mancando gli ultimi capitoli dell’omonimo romanzo (pubblicato nel 1958), è forse la più fedele trascrizione in immagini di un’opera letteraria: un’eccezione rara alla regola che vuole che chi ha amato un testo non ne ami altrettanto la riduzione filmica. Nessun rimpianto per un’epoca ormai al tramonto, nessuna illusione su un’epoca che sta nascendo: crisi personale e crisi del tempo mirabilmente fusi in un unicum che è ironia malinconia amarezza dolore cinismo pietà… Il grande regista rispetta così l’assunto di Tomasi di Lampedusa (da sottolineare però che Visconti accentua la visione soggettiva del protagonista: qui tutto “è dominato dallo sguardo con cui il principe Don Fabrizo vede e valuta tutto, più di quanto non accada nel romanzo” -irreer.it-).

Sorprendente l’attualità del ritratto del mondo siciliano e della politica italiana: vedere il film oggi evidenzia “un fardello” che ci portiamo dietro da tempo e che sembra sempre più ineliminabile. Luchino Visconti rivisita la storia nazionale cogliendo “tratti genetici forti e significativi del ritratto e del carattere degli italiani” (Brunetta ‘Cent’anni di cinema italiano’). Riscatto e speranze in un futuro migliore appaiono utopie più che mai illusorie e stupisce che il regista lanci questo messaggio proprio negli anni Sessanta, gli anni del boom e dell’improvvisa ricchezza (nonché gli anni che vedono nella nostra cinematografia il nascente trionfo dell’erotismo e della violenza). Del resto già Senso del 1954 aveva mostrato il declino morale, le contraddizioni e le pecche del nostro passato, condizionanti fortemente e decisamente il nostro presente.

Figurativamente bellissimo, con scene che fanno ormai parte della storia del cinema (il viaggio della famiglia principesca attraverso le campagne aride, gli andirivieni di Tancredi e Angelica nella parte abbandonata e sconosciuta dell’immensa villa, il celeberrimo ballo finale…) il film ha fatto incetta di premi (Palma d’oro a Cannes, nomination agli Oscar, 3 Nastri d’Argento, 1 David di Donatello…) e risulta ancora oggi uno dei più grandi sforzi produttivi della cinematografia italiana (15 mesi di riprese, costo finale ben superiore al già notevole investimento previsto).

Mirabile il cast (attori stranieri e italiani mirabilmente fusi): campeggia un indimenticabile e sorprendente Burt Lancaster in una performance che dire straordinaria è poco.

p.s.

1) Dal sito Italica-Rai leggiamo: “Con la mostra “La scena del Principe: Visconti e il Gattopardo”, a 25 anni dalla scomparsa di Luchino Visconti il Palazzo Chigi di Ariccia svela un segreto tenuto offuscato dalla riservatezza dell’aristocratica famiglia Chigi: tra queste pareti, il maestro avrebbe girato buona parte degli interni per il suo capolavoro. La Campagna Romana, quindi, e non il siciliano Palazzo di Donnafugata come si era a lungo creduto”

2) Nel doppio DVD, Goffredo Lombardo della Titanus parla dell’idea di realizzare un seguito del film basandosi su tutta la parte del racconto trascurata da Visconti: sembra che il malaugurato progetto sia svanito.

scheda

Note: Il Gattopardo fu realizzato nel 1962 con un sistema di ripresa chiamato Technirama, messo a punto dalla Tecnicolor negli anni ‘50. Tale sistema, che si avvaleva di ottiche anamorfiche, consentiva, grazie ad un’apposita cinepresa a trazione orizzontale, di raddoppiare l’area utilizzabile del fotogramma standard di 35mm. L’ immagine, sviluppata orizzontalmente, veniva poi trasferita con movimento coordinato e simultaneo, su un interpositivo trascinato da un apparato a trazione verticale, dal quale si ricavava un internegativo e da questo le copie positive.
La pellicola è stata restaurata nel 1991, a cura della Cineteca Nazionale, con la supervisione del maestro Giuseppe Rotunno.

Big Deal on Madonna Street | Mario Monicelli, 1958

In fifties Italy it was rare that an Italian film got the chance to threaten the clutch that imported American titles had upon the box office, but towards the end of the decade this hold did begin to slip. One film leading this returning Italian charge was Mario Monicelli’s Big Deal on Madonna Street (I Soliti Ignoti), a heist/caper comedy flick released in 1958 to critical and commercial success. The movie was and is still seen as an important part of the Commedia all’Italiana puzzle, a sidesplitting parody of the classic American gangster films and one that opened up many doors for Italian comedy at the time. Big Deal on Madonna Street follows a band of incompetent low-lives as they go about plotting the robbery of a safe, taking a ’scientific’ approach which involves sliding in through a coal shute and breaking down an entire wall in the dead of the night. These “usual suspects” are headed by Marcello Mastroianni, Vittorio Gassman and Renato Salvatori – three young men that were considered at the forefront of Italian acting talent at the time, in a film that really boosted their careers. Claudia Cardinale was also involved in a smaller role: an actress who would go on to worldwide stardom in the coming years. The orchestrator of this rag-tag group is played by an aging Totò, a legendary comedy actor whose screen presence even in this small role is incredible. Despite such a wealth of talent, the real strength of Big Deal on Madonna Street lies in its writing: for each joke is so subtly conceived and wonderfully delivered. Gassman and Mastroianni are the particular standouts who literally bathe in the incompetence of their respective and rather unconventional characters. These were, at the time, two young actors unproven in the comedy genre (Gassman was almost exclusively known for his Shakespearean roles) yet who come through here with flying colours.

I must admit that before viewing the film my experience of Italian comedy had been rather limited: I was aware of the work of Alberto Sordi, Totò et al. but wasn’t overly impressed with what I’d seen in the likes of Steno’s An American in Rome or Mario Mattoli’s Totò Tarzan. Monicelli’s Big Deal on Madonna Street, however, is hilarious from the very outset, and maintains this hilarity right up to the wonderful conclusive scene. Once the group has successfully hacked their way into the right place they proceed to burst a water pipe and then knock down the wrong wall entirely. This instigates a bout of furious arguing, and before long it is too late to finish the job. Therefore unlike the conventional closing car chase or shootout scene, we instead witness our collection of would-be-thieves finally engage in a nice chat over pasta and beans. And this, quite simply, is how Monicelli signs his parody off; with a small newspaper article that details the break-in and curious theft of an evening meal. It is this brilliant and hilarious reversal of expectation that can be seen to define Italian comedy during this period; a period for which Big Deal on Madonna Street may well be the highlight. Indeed, the film has since inspired a host of other projects including remakes, plays and broadway musicals. The plot reads like a doomed Ocean’s Eleven, with unbridled levels of ineptitude and a host of Italian stereotypes that only add to the humour. There are romantic side-stories to pad the comedy out a little, along with a lengthy introduction that helps detail each character seperately. These things undoubtedly aid the pacing of the movie no end, leaving us with a film that is as bittersweet as it is timelessly uproarious.

Our Rating:

Con algunas actrices ocurre que son suplantadas para siempre en la memoria por uno de los personajes a los que interpretaron. Para mí, Audrey Hepburn siempre será  la Ariane del film de Billy Wilder; Joan Fontaine -cómo no-, la Lisa de ese monumento al cine que es Carta de una desconocida; Anna Karina, la prostituta Nana de Vivir su vida; Julie Christie -faltaría más-, la inolvidable Lara de Doctor Zhivago…Y Claudia Cardinale, la inocente y seductora Aida de La chica con la maleta (La ragazza con la valiglia).

        Esta no demasiado conocida película del aún menos popular director italiano Valerio Zurlini es la historia de una cantante de orquesta que es engañada por un tipo que le promete dinero y fama para luego dejarla tirada con su maleta. Siguiéndole la pista, conocerá a Lorenzo (Jacques Perrin), el hermano menor, que se enamora de ella e intenta ayudarla. Pero las circunstancias y las diferencias de edad y de clase social terminarán separándoles.

        Pocas veces una actriz y su personaje se han adueñado, como en esta película, de todos y cada uno de los planos: la escena en que Aida va bajando lentamente la escalera de la casa de Lorenzo mientras éste la observa; la pequeña fiesta en el hotel, en la que Aida se deja seducir por otro mientras Lorenzo se emborracha; la larga escena de la playa y la posterior despedida; y el momento final, con Aida ya completamente sola, sin saber qué va a ser de ella, caminando en la noche hasta salir del plano.

        Sin las estridencias propias de buena parte del cine romántico italiano, con una preciosa fotografía en blanco y negro y las notas del aria Celeste Aida de Verdi, Zurlini consiguió una triste y maravillosa película habitada por un personaje inolvidable, una obra maestra del cine italiano que merece ser revalorizada.

Runtime: 2 hr 5 mins
Genre: Comedy, Crime, Family, Mystery, Romance
Release Date: March 20, 1964
Starring: Peter Sellers, David Niven, Capucine, Robert Wagner
Director: Blake Edwards

Summary: Arriving at a posh resort with her precious “Panther” — a large, priceless diamond with the image of a leaping feline inside — sexy princess Dala (Claudia Cardinale) meets the debonair Sir Charles (David Niven), who happens to be a professional thief. Enter the ever-incompetent Jacques Clouseau (Peter Sellers), the clumsiest inspector ever to trip over a case. Can he stop Charles’s attempts to relieve the princess of her diamond?

My Rating: ★ ★ ★ (Liked It)