.. I usually have an “Wanna Annoy Me” post every now and again but there were too many things today that just crawled up my ass so I figured I’d go easy on you guys and just enter one post.

Actually.. that’s not all together true. I just got back from the laundromat with 5 :: count ‘em 5 :: hampers so stuffed with clean clothes that I’ll never get the wrinkles out to fold that multiple posts just isn’t Father Time’s hourglass.

Ok..

So..

Things that annoyed me today:

1. I cut my bangs too short. I have this crazy curly hair that just magically shortens by 5 inches when you cut it. I usually leave it to the professionals :: which, I WAS one before I let my license expire :: but it got on my nerves so bad today that I dry cut it. This.. for all you non-professionals out there is when you cut your hair.. dry. Meaning, not wet. Meaning you just get done blow drying your hair and you can’t stand the way it fall into your face and annoys you that you grab the nearest scissors you can find and just start chopping. That’s a “dry cut”. The problem is when you cut your bangs yourself, you kind of get cross eyed. So it’s not a pretty thing to witness. So what was once a bang length down to my chin is now a bang length just in the middle of my eye. Too short. Long term baseball cap wear-age definitely in my future.
2. Men who wear tighty-whities. I am allowed to say that out loud because Chief is among the tighty-whitie wearers and I am the one who has to launder his tighty-whities. I used to roll my eyes at the Spawn from Satan’s Ass because he wore tighty-non-whities and it just looked ridiculous but if there is one kind thing I can say about the Spawn, it’s that he spared me from looking at and having to handle stained underwear. And we all know underwear gets stained.. PLEASE don’t try to convince me that your’s doesn’t. My question is.. how are you not EMBARASSED by it? I have been know to wear underwear on occassion :: yes, I usually go “commando” :: but even then, one little thing that isn’t suppose to be there and they get chucked in the trash. Buried deep. So no one can see them.
3. People who drive with handicap placards hanging from their rear view mirror. Because.. like.. it clearly states DO NOT HANG WHILE DRIVING. I know.. because my dad :: RIP :: used to have one. If you’re going to do that then I’m going to assume your handicap is of the mental variety and you shouldn’t be driving anyway. Therefore, I can’t help what comes out of my mouth when you decide your going to make a UTurn on a four lane highway from the far right lane, while I’m in the middle lane. Jerk off.
4. .. and speaking of stuff hanging from rear view mirrors. What’s with all the damn plastic leis all of a sudden? Did I miss a memo? Forget to invite me to a party. Get that dumb shit off.
5. People who think THEIR time is WAY MORE valuable then mine. You know the whole issue we’re having with Bubba and school, right? Well, I’ve been in email communication with his primary teacher and since today was report card day, she suggested that I go to the high school at 4:30 so that I can have a sit down meeting with all his teachers. 4:30. I KNOW she said 4:30. I KNOW she said 4:30 because when she said 4:30 all kinds of things started running through my head like, “Will Chief be able to close the store and come with?” .. “Do I leave Bubba home alone?”.. “Will I be able to pick Bubba up at 2:20 and then go to the wholesalers and make it back in time?” .. so yea.. I KNOW she said 4:30. So what happens? I get to the school at 4:30 and no one. Anywhere. I check the library where we were suppose to meet and it’s empty except for someone that’s somewhere in the back who won’t respond to my HELLOs or EXCUSE MEs only to make an appearance after I roamed all over an empty school :: so much for fucking security :: and happen to see the above mentioned someone in the middle of the library vacuuming. When asked the whereabouts of the teachers, she looked at me in disgust and told me that report cards weren’t going to be given out until 6… with an attitude. But no bigger then the one I was already carrying around. So I drive back to the shop fuming and then drive back to the school fuming and when finally face to face with the primary teacher, she tells me that she smugly told me that she had something to do. If Bubba’s education was NOT as important as it is I would have dropped the cow on her fat ass. Immediately.
6. My father in law telling me he can’t believe I stayed with his son this long. That annoyed me. Maybe because it’s true and I know it’s true. Dunno. Must ponder that one.
7. Missing school pictures. OH how that annoyed me! If you read some of my recent previous posts, you know that the Crack Whore was throwing up accolades in my direction because I sent her a message that I had Spaz’s school picture for her. Well, today, Spaz got out of school early and because .. well, I don’t really know “because” .. anyway, he called the Crack Whore and she how ever it happened, she came by the shop and took him somewhere. I was in the back.. didn’t see her.. didn’t care. BUT I figured when I got home, I better sort out the pictures because I wanted to put which ever ones in the Thanksgiving cards I got for Chief’s brother, my mom, etc. So when I get home.. there’s no 8×10. There WAS an 8×10 because I ordered and 8×10.. and even if I didn’t think I ordered an 8×10, I clearly remember the day that Spaz came home with them and pulled the 8×10 out of the envelope because I told him to put it back before his sticky candy fingers smudged it. I have a wall lined with their 8×10 school pictures so I know there was one. So I call the Crack Whore and leave a message to have Spaz call me because there’s a missing 8 x fucking 10 picture missing. About an hour and a half goes by and he calls and asks if I want to talk to him and I ask him if he took the picture. He said no.. and if there was ever a time that I could tell this child was lying it was then. The pause.. the stutter.. all neon arrows. He tells me that I didn’t order one. Now.. excuse me.. my brain cells are not swimming in anything chemical. It’s sharp as a tack so to try and convince me that I didn’t order one only inflamed me more. That and the fact that the edging that was on the 8 x fucking 10 picture was cut. And not in a straight line. We had issues with pictures before, me and the Crack Whore. Especially when she stole Weed’s prom picture. Yes. You read that right. STOLE. So I’m not putting it past her that she asked about the pictures and Spaz gave her the 8 x fucking 10. What I’m more pissed about is that she made him lie about it. So tonight at dinner, after he came home from her crack den, I told him that I wanted the picture back. That no one but me and him knew where the pack was. He started pulling his drama queen shit which further proved he had lied. So Chief gave him the opportunity to come clean saying that it’s understandable if he did because he’s just a little boy but he had to be honest about it. Which of course, made Sarah Bernhardt rise from the dead. And so I got pissed. Because I paid the $60 that I didn’t have for these pictures and I told Chief, he could call her all he wants.. she’s not going to ‘fess up to it. Because she never does. But I will tell you one thing.. in a few days that picture is going mysteriously turn up.. or I’m going to hear, “oh.. I forgot!’ or “I didn’t know you were talking about THAT picture”. I’ll bet you any amount of money on that.
8. Supermarkets that tell you that you CANNOT get the free turkey that is owed you for spending over three hundred dollars on their discount card because you lost the receipt that says you are entitled to a free turkey because you spent over three hundred dollars on their discount card. Since my father in law is coming over for dinner Thursday, I need a fucking turkey. Because as un-traditional as Chief is.. he CAN’T have ham :: of which I have one frozen in the freezer :: on Thanksgiving. It HAS to be turkey. It’s the TRADITION. I rolled my eyes at him and said, “.. you’re fucking kidding me, right?” Which, of course, he wasn’t. So I drive over to the supermarket .. grab a frozen bird :: AND thinking that if any bird deserved to be frozen right then it was Chief’s :: and when I get to the counter I remember that I don’t have the coupon. Not only don’t I have the coupon but I realize that I have no clue where it’s at. No problem. I have my discount card on my keyring. So I run out to the car to get my keys :: yes, I put my keys in the glove box if I know I’m not going to need a damn discount card because I always lose them and my car has coded locks so it’s not like I’d be locked out. :: come back into the store only to have the cashier tell me that I need the coupon. UH-UH! I have the discount card. She says it doesn’t matter.. that she has to ring up the card along with the coupon and bedlam ensues. Because I want someone who gets paid more then the cashier does to tell me that my discount card is NOT good enough.. because if the damn card can tell them everything about everything I’ve purchased then why the hell can’t it tell them that I get a free turkey. But of course, this is the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and the crowd behind me is looking for things to impale me with so I told her that I would return tomorrow to speak with the manager. Then I went home and told Chief we were starting a new tradition and having ham, dammit.
9. Cats that chew on a ridiculously expensive pair of boots that have been stored in the deepest, darkest depth of my closet since last winter REALLY ANNOY me. I mean REALLY annoyed me. Annoyed me so much that I started to believe that the author of “Puss In Boots” had a cat that chewed on a ridiculously expensive pair of boots and made him pay for it dearly. Or maybe that’s what I was thinking when I found my boots were chewed. Hard to tell. I was annoyed.

Well.. I think y’all had enough of my ranting for now. I still have two hampers of laundry to fold and the laptop battery is running low.

Wish me a better day tomorrow.. either that, or send me a REALLY good recipe for spiked egg nog!

These are the facts about the Lal Masjid’s Operation Silence, you will see the government claims and actual facts – watch, think and decide.

Do not let the actual culprits getaway with blood on their hands in this world, because in the world hereinafter, all of us will be judged on what we believed and did.

Part 1

Part 2

Note: We are not associated whether directly or indirectly with the publishers of video. The only aim is to uphold Haq [Truth] and bring responsible to justice.

These are the facts about the Lal Masjid’s Operation Silence, you will see the government claims and actual facts – watch, think and decide.

Do not let the actual culprits getaway with blood on their hands in this world, because in the world hereinafter, all of us will be judged on what we believed and did.

Part 1

Part 2

Note: We are not associated whether directly or indirectly with the publishers of video. The only aim is to uphold Haq [Truth] and bring responsible to justice.

“COMMANDO” Pen on paper – Ali Gill 2009

The modern day equivalent of a periscope rifle:

I *so* want one for keeping bunnies off the veg patch . . . .

You already know how I feel about Tarte cosmetics and if you don’t I’ll tell you: I’m obsessed. Their products are high quality and eco-friendly; what more can you ask for?

Well, Tarte has teamed up with Commando underwear to get you covered (from top to [your] bottom) for the upcoming holiday season. They’re giving away up to $750 worth of goodness and all you have to do is enter. And with products like theirs, that is definitely something to be thankful for this season.

Tarte’s Lights, Camera, Lashes mascara is hands down the best mascara I’ve ever tried. Ever. And I’ve tried all of them. Every time a magazine boasted about their favorite mascara, I’d buy it. But they were all the same. I just figured mascara was mascara and started buying whatever was cheapest at Target. But Tarte taught me that there is a difference and not all mascaras are created equal. I honestly don’t know how they do it, but my eyes have never looked better or brighter. Seriously. It’s a miracle product.

Oh, and as long as we’re talking about the best products ever, let me just tell you about The Eraser, a legendary concealer. Not only does this stuff cover up the major black circles under my eyes (tested and approved on a particularly hungover morning), but it has a brush built in so you don’t have to run your greasy fingers across your freshly washed face. Gah! I just love it.

And you know what else I love? Going commando. (True story – I really don’t like panty lines…or doing laundry.) But after Britney and Paris started flashing their lady bits all over town I decided to give undies a try. And they failed me. I thought I was doomed to a life of not-so-stealthily picking wedgies… and then, like a gift from the heavens, I recieved a sample of Commando underwear. This stuff is ridiculous. It has zero seams, meaning it gives you the look of going commando without the fear of accidentally exposing yourself. Plus it comes in all different styles (bikini, thong, girl shorts) and designs (solids, animal print). It still adds to the laundry basket, but when you see how good your bootie looks in those girl shorts you won’t even care.

I seriously loaded up on this stuff (20 pairs to be exact) and am officially a member of the underwear-wearing community. Though you wouldn’t know by looking at me in a pair of leggings. These things are genius!

And you can get a whole slew of them and a ton of Tarte beauty products just by entering. So go! Enter! Win! Everyone gets 20% off their next Tarte or Commando purchase just for entering so, really – with a flawless face and no risk of showing everyone your goodies – we’re all winners.

The “Contra” cover designers really knew how to sell some pancakes to the 80’s masses, didn’t they? I mean, they blatantly, perfectly abuse the images from COMMANDO, RAMBO, and ALIENS on their cover. I think it was a brilliant move. How can you argue that we wouldn’t want all three rolled into one?

A fistful of pellicule

Une fois encore avec Tarantino, les bas-fonds de l’analyse critique auront été atteints, ses Inglourious Basterds étant taxés au mieux de gaudriole guerrière, au pire de révisionnisme. Des reproches qui marquent peut être maladroitement la déception liée au traitement final adopté puisqu’aux relectures initialement envisagées (mais surtout fantasmées par la presse dite spécialisée) des Douze salopards de Aldrich et de Pour une poignée de salopards (titré Inglorious Bastards) de Enzo G. Castellari, Q.T préfère nous emmener sur un terrain moins balisé et n’applique ses intentions de départ qu’aux basterds en titre dont les apparitions à l’écran seront finalement limitées. Mais qui oserait s’en plaindre vu le monument pelliculé qu’il nous offre ?!

Dans une interview donnée aux Cahiers du cinéma à l’occasion de la sortie cannoise du film, Tarantino déclarait que il n’y a « pas besoin de dynamite quand on a de la pellicule». Un propos à la signification double puisqu’il renvoie à la fois à la séquence montrant les bandes de 35mm amassées derrière l’écran prête à être enflammées afin de provoquer un incendie vengeur, et constitue à la fois une analogie guerrière ayant trait à la capacité du medium de prendre position en dynamitant des idéologies iniques. Stigmatisé un amuseur de génie par une critique à côté de ses pompes, Tarantino nous a offert des films qui se sont toujours montrés d’une grande profondeur que leurs qualités esthétiques et leurs vertus excitantes semblent occulter. Inglourious Basterds n’y échappe pas même si dans l’ensemble il a été plutôt bien reçu, certains en viendront rapidement à opposer les mêmes reproches lus ou entendus depuis quinze ans (trop de dialogues, trop de références, maniérisme impersonnel, etc.) voire inaugureront dans l’absurdité en le taxant d’héritier des grosses comédies type 7ème compagnie ou Z.A.Z. Bien que le film soit sorti sur les écrans depuis quelques mois, il n’est pas prêt de sortir de nos mémoires tant il demeure jubilatoire sur tous les plans. Sans doute le film de l’année 2009 et il se doit d’être apprécié en version originale car jamais depuis McTiernan l’appropriation linguistique ne se sera révélée aussi bien mise en scène et décisive. Une fiction que le réalisateur de Reservoir dogs soumet à sa vision, à sa perception de plus en plus affinée et affirmée du 7e Art.

Il était une fois…

Inglourious Basterds se joue et (re)joue des conventions, des références et de l’Histoire pour réaffirmer une fois de plus et sans doute définitivement la puissance du cinéma sans oublier de donner corps à un récit remarquablement construit. Nous suivons différents personnages, le commando de chasseur de nazis, Shosanna la rescapée, le colonel Landa le chasseur de juifs et les instigateurs de l’opération Kino, dont les actions convergeront vers le cinéma parisien tenu par Shosanna et où doit être projetée l’avant-première de la dernière bande propagandiste de Goebbels en présence du gratin allemand et de Hitler.
Comme toujours, Tarantino s’amuse toujours autant à parsemer son film de références en tous genres qui ici seront difficilement repérables pour la plupart car mettant en jeu le cinéma allemand des années 30/40. De toute manière peu importe car le réalisateur ne cède jamais à la facilité d’une succession de citations simplement illustratives, mais les utilise pour nourrir son cinéma et son projet de mise en scène. Ce sont bien plus que des clins d’œil pour initiés puisqu’elles permettent autant de caractériser des personnages de comic-books (les basterds du titre) afin de leur donner une véritable épaisseur (le lieutenant Raine est un double hommage : à l’acteur Aldo Ray, prototype même de l’incarnation du soldat américain et au personnage du major Rane interprété par William Devanne dans Rolling thunder) qu’elles renforcent la scénographie et la dramaturgie.
Et comme toujours, Tarantino démontre avec jubilation qu’il excelle dans les longues scènes de confrontations verbales, ciselant des dialogues qui claquent, faisant du verbe l’arme de prédilection de son univers. C’est encore plus remarquable dans ce dernier film. Non seulement, il respecte les différentes langues usitées dans un contexte de seconde guerre mondiale (le français, l’allemand, l’anglais, l’italien pour un gag savoureux et hilarant) mais leur utilisation renforce l’immersion dans une fiction où tous les personnages se montrent excessifs. Pour exemple, l’allemand ne sera sous-titré, et donc rendu intelligible, que lorsqu’un personnage familier le comprenant sera présent à l’écran. Ainsi le spectateur sera aussi désorienté et plus tard terrifié que Shosanna lorsque celle-ci subit les avances d’un officier nazi (fierté de la nation pour avoir descendu un maximum d’alliés) puis sera convié à la même table que Goebbels où viendra les rejoindre le bourreau de sa famille, le chasseur de juifs Hans Landa, qui va s’évertuer à la soumettre à un interrogatoire que dissimule mal son inquiétante suavité. Mais le plus fort est que l’intention du réalisateur nous explose à la gueule dès la magnifique scène d’introduction de vingt minutes convoquant admirablement Sergio Leone et dont la théâtralité mortifère expose sans ambages l’importance que va revêtir la maîtrise du langage sous toutes ses formes. Landa tisse un impitoyable piège sémantique parfaitement dissimulé par nos habitudes de spectateurs. Le passage du français à l’anglais dans les échanges entre l’officier et le fermier semblent ainsi respecter une convention hollywoodienne telle qu’usitée dans des films comme K19, Les Insurgés ou Walkyrie alors qu’il s’avère un habile moyen de cryptage à l’encontre de la famille juive planquée sous le plancher et nous-mêmes confortablement enfoncés dans nos fauteuils.

Les dialogues ont une importance capitale dans toute son œuvre et manifestement encore plus dans ce film, notamment dans sa pierre angulaire, la fameuse scène dans la taverne située dans une cave – promptement conspuée par de nombreux spectateurs (la scène, pas la cave). D’une durée désarçonnante, elle surprend donc par sa longueur mais aussi par son ampleur et son rythme. Tarantino rejoue ses scènes fétiches de personnages discutaillant autour d’une table mais en parvenant à se renouveler de manière incroyable, rythmant le tout de digressions humoristiques, cinéphiliques pour faire monter progressivement la tension jusqu’à l’explosion de violence concluant la séquence. Le réalisateur réussit même à nous conditionner, à nous faire prendre conscience du danger de la topographie des lieux d’abord au travers de la répétition par le lieutenant Raine que le risque encouru est immense puisque si cela tourne mal, les possibilités de s’échapper d’un tel endroit sont réduites, puis en jouant sur cet enfermement en réduisant ses cadres, aucun plan d’ensemble de la cave ne nous permettra d’apprécier son agencement (l’endroit où se tenait l’officier de la gestapo ne nous sera révélé qu’au moment où il prendra la parole). Du grand art tant formel que dans l’écriture.
Bien sûr, la grande force du film rédise dans cette réflexion sur toutes les formes de langage, parlé et cinématographique, cette mise en abyme constante du cinéma et de la réalité, comment les deux s’interpénètrent, s’apprivoisent, s’opposent, se complètent…

Cinéman

Toute l’œuvre de Tarantino se définit par le rapport étroit qu’elle entretient avec le cinéma. À tel point que les personnages ne devront leur salut qu’en parvenant à décrypter les images et les codes que s’est appropriés Q.T. Plus encore que dans Kill Bill, cette approche est parfaitement identifiable dans Boulevard de la mort. Le premier quatuor de jeunes filles périt par méconnaissance cinéphile (l’obscure filmo de Stuntman Mike n’évoque rien pour elle) alors que le second groupe retourne la situation à son avantage par leur reconnaissance (Point limite zéro de Richard Sarafian est explicitement évoqué à table par les belles). Là encore avec Inglourious Basterds, tout est une question de maîtrise des références et du langage cinématographique.

Q.T exprime certes sa cinéphilie par l’intermédiaire du lieutenant Hicox (Michael Fassbender) non pas pour impressionner la galerie mais pour définir la mission et ses instigateurs. Il est engagé par le général interprété par Mike Myers au vu de ses impressionnants états de service qui dans l’univers tarantinien consiste non pas dans des faits d’armes mais dans la capacité analytique dont font preuve ses personnages. Ses deux livres d’analyse critique ont été publiés, c’est ce qui lui vaut d’être considéré comme le plus apte à mener à bien l’opération Kino (qui en allemand signifie…cinéma !). Une scène loin d’être gratuite car elle définit le personnage de Hicox qui parviendra dans la taverne à déjouer un temps la suspicion du major de la Gestapo grâce à ses connaissances cinéphiliques (un film de G.W Pabst, L’Enfer blanc du Piz Palu, en l’occurrence).
Cette mise en abyme du cinéma est ainsi illustrée tout au long du métrage et notamment lors de l’interlude pop contant l’histoire de Hugo Stiglitz qui en plus d’éclaircir et renforcer le background du personnage, se révèle un enrôlement littéral et figuratif du renégat puisque Raine et ses hommes le libèrent de sa geôle pour l’engager dans leur entreprise d’extermination et s’apparentant à un véritable casting (sont évoqués ses talents particuliers). Le lieutenant Raine, toujours, se réjouit des exploits brutaux de l’Ours juif (Eli Roth) aussi excitants pour eux (voire plus) qu’un spectacle cinématographique. Ou encore, cet échange lors de l’avant-première de Fierté de la nation où Hitler félicite pour son travail, son meilleur film, le producteur Goebbels.

Tarantino a beau convoquer un monde allégorique dès l’introduction de son film (« Il était une fois, dans une France occupée par les nazis »), un monde entièrement dévoué à son art et sa passion (sa cause ?), il n’instaure pas une appréhension passive puisque la bonne interprétation des images sera aussi décisive pour les spectateurs (démontrant clairement un respect sincère de son audience) et des personnages entretenant un lien de plus en plus fort avec le cinéma (actrice, projectionniste, critique…). Envisageant certes son medium de prédilection comme refuge mais surtout comme moyen ultime de lutter contre la barbarie (physique, idéologique, culturelle), le réalisateur n’en reste pas moins taraudé par l’expression de sentiments viscéraux. S’il continue à s’appuyer sur une démarche purement théorique (comment adapter les images que j’aime et transformer emprunts et citations pour nourrir mon récit), le cinéma de Tarantino se développe de plus en plus autour de l’idée de faire correspondre les émotions que ses personnages suscitent ou subissent avec leur représentation filmique. C’est particulièrement prégnant lors de la séquence dans la cabine de projection où les sentiments de Shosanna envers Fredrick Zoller semblent évoluer selon les expressions affichées par ce dernier dans le film projeté. Q.T parvient avec Inglourious Basterds à une impressionnante symbiose entre caractérisation, narration et images de cinéma.

Puissance du cinéma

C’est vraiment remarquable lorsque Zoller rejoint Shosanna, incapable de supporter plus longtemps l’inhumanité que lui retourne le film de ses exploits. Déterminée à réaliser sa vengeance, elle est contrainte d’abattre dans le dos le soldat qu’elle peine à éconduire. Après avoir manifesté une violence surprenante, elle ne peut s’empêcher peu après d’exprimer une humanité absente chez les autres personnages en s’approchant du corps gisant au sol. Une compassion fatale puisque Zoller en profite pour l’abattre. La mort de Shosanna est la dernière occasion pour Tarantino de la magnifier (superbes plans de Shosanna habillée de rouge dans l’encadrement d’une porte ou songeuse en regardant par la fenêtre, entre autres) puisqu’avant de tomber lourdement au sol, son corps criblé de balles et violemment projeté contre la vitre de la cabine est filmé au ralenti sur une musique lyrique. Un effet grandiloquent qu’il ne concède qu’à la jeune juive. Cette fin esthétiquement mise en valeur intervient juste avant que le montage de Shosanna n’entre en jeu, de sorte que lorsque son visage apparaîtra sur l’écran, nous aurons l’impression d’une incarnation totale de son esprit, de son âme sur la pellicule. Le réalisateur utilise à merveille son art d’élection pour livrer des images d’une beauté presque effrayante tant leur puissance semble se déverser dans la salle. Ainsi, le plan moyen de Shosanna filmée en légère contre-plongée et s’adressant à la caméra permet d’être raccord avec les images précédentes de Zoller et de donner plus de force à ce renversement. Tarantino subvertit un cinéma propagandiste en lui adjoignant un style rappelant le cinéma expressionniste allemand, et lorsque les flammes de la pellicule en train de brûler atteignent l’écran, celles-ci donnent à ce visage d’ordinaire si doux une dimension infernale et fantastique exaltante.

Quand bien même l’analogie avec le cinéma semble surlignée au stabilo, comme lui reprocheront certains, Tarantino ne lie pas la résolution de ses pistes narratives à un lieu consacré au 7è Art par facilité ou pédanterie mais bien parce que dans le programme du film cela procède d’une logique implacable. Les renvois constants à son amour pour le cinéma infusent toute son œuvre et Inglourious Basterds ne fait pas exception. Comment pourrait-il en être autrement pour ce cinéphage compulsif, véritable génie de l’écriture dont le talent et la vision parviennent même à influencer la réalisation de Tony Scott sur True romance ?

Un film, deux réalisateurs

Roi du détournement d’intention, Tarantino déjoue une fois de plus nos attentes en laissant au second plan le commando de salopards sans gloire pour se concentrer sur les deux véritables « héros », Shosanna et le colonel Hans Landa. Et oui, ce dernier est le seul personnage apparaissant dans les cinq segments et dont il semble tirer les ficelles jusqu’au retournement final.
Landa veut tout maîtriser jusque dans ses moindres détails. Il donne une terrible preuve de ses capacités d’entrée de jeu dans cette ferme normande. Ce désir ne fera que s’accentuer. Ainsi, l’expression dont il n’est pas certain de l’exactitude au moment de chausser le pied de Diane Kruger, il en vérifiera la validité lors de la confrontation avec Aldo Raine. Par le biais de cette expression a priori anodine, Tarantino va jouer sur trois tableaux en même temps. Premièrement elle illustre le fétichisme du réalisateur pour les pieds (voir les nombreux plans anatomiques de cet ordre dans Boulevard de la mort) et les digressions étranges (la conversation sur les burgers dans Pulp Fiction, la discussion sur la signification de Like a virgin dans Reservoir Dogs…) mais ici elle va permettre à l’officier nazi d’accroître sa position dominante. Comme démontré précédemment par le film, celui qui maîtrise le langage maîtrise les événements. Non seulement cette expression détermine le rapport de force entre lui et Aldo l’apache mais elle le déstabilise par son incongruité et le trompe sur la trahison un moment envisagée de l’actrice/espionne. Mais c’est sans doute dans la lutte métatextuelle que se livrent Q.T et Landa pour la maîtrise du récit, de l’histoire (et de l’Histoire) que le film se montre réellement délectable et impressionnant. En laissant s’échapper Shosanna après l’exécution de sa famille, Landa affirme sa supériorité et peut être même a t-il déjà compris le reste du film (il lui offre un verre de lait lorsqu’ils mangent un strüddel !) et le rôle qu’il veut y tenir. C’est lui qui mène la danse et qui permet in fine aux basterds de réaliser leur mission. Mais Tarantino par l’intermédiaire du lieutenant Raine, figuration des B-movies irrévérencieux et excessifs qu’adorent l’artiste, n’a pas dit son dernier mot. Aldo l’esthète de la gravure sur front de croix gammée, s’il n’empêche pas Landa d’obtenir l’immunité au moins inscrira pour toujours son infamie.

Cette lutte opposant le réalisateur à son personnage de fiction rappelle la virtuosité d’un autre génie, Johnnie To qui dans le surprenant et génial Breaking News entretenait des rapports similaires avec une jeune lieutenante de police chargée d’interpeller des gangsters retranchés dans un immeuble.
Cette reprise en main physique opérée par l’Américain aura été annoncée par la reprise en main artistique de la projectionniste juive. Le film est vraiment remarquablement construit puisque l’on assiste dans le dernier chapitre à un spectaculaire renversement vindicatif quasiment symétrique avec le segment introductif. Shosanna prend les rênes du film au départ mené par Landa en dressant un piège non plus basé sur la linguistique mais le langage cinématographique grâce à son montage pirate inséré dans le film de Goebbels. De même, l’exécution de Hitler est un écho au massacre de la famille Dreyfus et l’on apprécie de voir la diaspora nazie subir le sort des juifs : confinés dans un espace clos avant d’être brûlés vifs. Enfin, les voir pris de panique devant les flammes et l’impossibilité de s’échapper renvoie à l’image des rats que Landa associait aux juifs. La boucle est bouclée.

Pour le réalisateur de Pulp Fiction, le cinéma est apte à racheter l’Histoire, à la venger de manière extatique et cathartique. Non pas au mépris d’une vérité et réalité historique, que Tarantino n’a d’ailleurs jamais recherchée, mais bien par la puissance métaphorique du medium cinématographique.
Dialogues et réalisation au cordeau, le film emporte définitivement l’adhésion par son mélange des genres, à la fois film de guerre, de commando, de complot militaire, comédie, comic-book (voire pulp et fumetto) et mise en abyme constante du 7e Art où chaque partie se retrouve ponctuée et se conclut par un climax violent, jusqu’à l’apothéose finale, ce retournement ultime et vengeur. Si les inglourious basterds du titre seront finalement peu présents à l’écran, les quelques scènes montrant leurs exactions (ils scalpent en gros plan, défoncent la tête des nazis à coup de gourdin !) conditionneront le récit tout entier puisqu’à la simple évocation de leurs noms, Hitler entrera dans une rage folle, les soldats allemands trembleront de peur et Landa s’efforcera d’y apposer un visage. Et nous, d’applaudir avec entrain le cinéma total que nous offre Tarantino.

Nicolas Zugasti

Lire aussi notre chronique cannoise dans VERSUS n° 16, disponible à la vente sur le site.
Retrouvez aussi notre dossier complet sur Tarantino dans VERSUS n° 5, en vente en PDF avec le nouveau numéro ; et notre article sur Boulevard de la mort dans VERSUS n° 12.

My maternal grandpa was an American ”Commando” during WWII (the Green Berets weren’t in existence yet, so he got British-style special forces training.). In honor of him, here is a story I wrote, based on truth.

He was a good and a brave man, and deserves to be honored.

Many of the incidents in the story are true, and the others, could be.

On a overcast April morning in the compound of a police barracks in central Bombay, a team of 6 young men in commando clothing, armed with AK-47’s and pistols, walked, crouched and lunged for our cameras. They simulated combat at close quarters: how to enter a building, guard its entrance, take control of the stairwell and burst into a room occupied by fictional terrorists. They were members of the Quick Response Team, or QRT, their existence a challenge to the much repeated cliché of a city police unprepared for the commando style attacks of last November. The QRT was created in 2003, after a series of bomb blasts in Bombay, precisely to counter a terrorist attack. Not to guard exits or form outer cordons or manage crowds, but to engage the bad guys. They were selected from among the constabulary for their youth and fitness. They trained with the army in Pune. They went to Manesar to train with the NSG. They have AK-47’s, 9mm pistols, bulletproof vests, imported helmets. They are divided into teams on multiple shifts, so that at any time of the day or night, one team of 12 commandoes is always on call, 24×7.

On their biggest night, they would barely fire more than a few rounds. By dawn, they were manning outer perimeters at the Taj and Trident. What went wrong? The answers are couched in that familiar, mystifying vagueness which has come to define Bombay police in its moment of reckoning: “We were called into action at ten pm. A team of 7 went to CST. We went from train to train clearing compartments. We surrounded a motor cabin on Platform 2 inside which two men were hiding. But it turned out to be false alarm. We realized by then the terrorists had left the station. We were told that they had gone towards Cama Hospital. As we left, we heard firing outside Metro cinema. We saw a Qualis with guns sticking out of the window. We fired at it. But by then it had sped off.” This from the team that went to the Trident Hotel: “6 of us entered the Trident. We saw glass, blood, bodies everywhere. A grenade dropped from one of the higher floors as we entered. We went up to the second floor going room by room. We didn’t know what we were looking for. We took turns in escorting guests to the exit. We thought we’d go right to the top and start clearing the floors, but we didn’t have enough numbers. We had been split up into very small groups. So we rescued guests and guarded the exits till the Navy commandos came.”

The exchange with the young commandoes of the QRT : S.I Vasave, S.I. Kerkar, constables Mhatre and Patil took place in a former complex of jail cells attached to the Bhoiwada police station, about 10 kilometers north of Victoria Terminus. Its walls are peeling, patches of damp everywhere. One of the now-empty lockups serves as the QRT’s main command post, with a roster sketched on a blackboard, and a wireless receiver propped on a table in the corner.  Flies buzz around puddles and mounds of garbage. On the iron bars of the cells, underwear and trousers are hung out to dry. This is where the city has chosen to house and headquarter its elite anti-terrorist force.

The QRT was orphaned almost as soon as it was created, the casualty of yet another departmental turf war. It was meant to be part of the crime branch of the city police, but was then brought under the command of the Anti Terror Squad. The ATS itself is a bastard child; it’s raised from the Maharashtra police, but the chief of the ATS reports to the Bombay police commissioner. That night, says S.I. Vasave, as we went from location to location, we had no one to guide us. The man who is meant to be in charge of the QRT, himself caught up in the anarchy of the night, called them just as they were setting off: “This is your first chance to prove yourself”, Hemant Karkare told them. “Kuch karke dikhana hai”. Just over two hours later, they would discover his body in a pool of blood in a lane behind Cama Hospital.

Bombay turns you into a crime reporter. It is home to the most storied police force in the country. The only police force where a sub-inspector (Daya Nayak) can inspire a clutch of Bollywood thrillers. The only force which has a celebrity sniffer dog: Zanjeer, the golden labrador that scented out the hidden caches of RDX in Thane and Mumbra in 1993. Zanjeer was sent off with full honours when he died in 2000. Not long after we moved to Bombay in 2003, on my first visit to police headquarters, I lingered on the magnificent wooden staircase that leads to the police commissioners office. On the wall curved a gallery of the city’s khakhi celebrities: Ribeiro, Soman, Samra, Mendonca, Singh.

On that day, I was on my way to meet Commissioner RS Sharma. The Telgi stamp paper scam had just broken. Sharma and several others, including the encounter specialist Pradeep Sawant were charged with bungling the investigation into Telgi, a forger of stamp paper. Over the next few weeks more than a dozen policemen – officers like Sharma and Sawant, but many others of varying ranks – were suspended, arrested and sent to jail. Later, Sharma was discharged and released. He said his release proved his case: that he was the victim of murky departmental rivalries. Many saw the Telgi purge as one of the worst moments in the history of the force. Worse than the 1992-93 riots, when the police was seen as nakedly communal? I asked an officer who was with the crime branch. Worse, he said.

In August of that same year, two blasts went off in the city – one at the Gateway of India, another in Zaveri Bazaar, a crowded marketplace in central Bombay. 54 people died. Acting on the basis of a tip off from a taxi driver, and using their network of informants, the  cracked the case within two months. One of the main accused was shot in an ‘encounter’. Three others were arrested. (They were recently sentenced.)

I had been in Bombay for only 6 months. I already had a taste of the fame and notoriety that is the legacy of its police force.

The city’s first police chief, an East India Company buccaneer called James Tod, was tried and sacked for corruption in 1790. “The principal witness against him (as must always happen)” wrote Sir James Mackintosh, “was his native receiver of bribes”. Charles Forjett, who became Commissioner almost a century later, was the police force’s first moderniser. He laid the ground for Bombay police’s high standards of detection. Forjett was Anglo Indian, and often moved around the city undercover to unearth crime, (“..the strong ’strain of the country’ in his blood enabled him, when disguised, to pass among natives of India as one of themselves”), a technique he used to expose the Bombay chapter of the mutineers of 1857. The mutineers were strapped to cannons and blown to bits on the Esplanade.

The weight of so much history needs a suitable setting. Wander through the streets of south Bombay and it’s a fair chance that some of the finest Victorian and Gothic architecture is police property: the Commissioner’s office in Crawford Market, the late-18th century ATS headquarters in Byculla (which was the earlier Commissionerate, in Forjett’s time), the Old Bazaar Gate Police Station (now the headquarters of DCP Zone 1), the Colaba Police station, built in 1906, and the Maharashtra Police Headquarters at Apollo Bunder, a grand old Gothic pile of blue basalt, once called Sailor’s Home. All these buildings are a stone’s throw away from the Taj, CST, Cama Hospital, Leopold’s, Nariman House. Unknowingly, the terrorists of 26/11 had wandered into the heart of police Bombay. As the gunmen from Pakistan killed, lingered, reloaded, and killed again, they would unravel the reputation – and the troubled core – of the country’s most celebrated police force.

There is a story the officers of Bombay police like to tell: of brotherhood, risk and the fight against evil. But it is a story that unfolds far away from Bombay, in the jungles of Vidharbha. Many of the officers in the ‘frontlines’ of 26/11 had done postings, often overlapping, in Maharashtra’s naxal-affected districts: Chandrapur, Gadchiroli, Bhandara. This, I am told again and again, is not a coincidence. “You see who was the first to rush to the spots that night.” Hemant Karkare (S.P. Chandrapur 1991), Sadandand Date (A.S.P. Bhandara 1995) and Ashok Kamte (A.S.P. Bhandara 1991) were at Cama, Deven Bharati (A.S.P Gadchiroli 1996) and Hemant Nagrale (A.S.P. Chandrapur, 1992) were at the Taj, Parambir Singh (S.P. Bhandara 1995) at the Trident, KP Raghuvanshi (SP, Gadchiroli, 1992) at VT. “You get that killer instinct when you are in the jungle. We used to sleep with our AK’s”, one of them tells me. In the context of the November attacks, this may seem ironic, even mildly absurd. But this is a force looking for redemption. The successes of Maharashtra’s police force in containing naxalism in Vidharbha in the early to mid-nineties are generally unchallenged, unlike the events of 26/11. There is a nostalgia for that time in the forest; many of them straight out of the Academy, thrust into a sort of Boy’s Own world of adventure and danger, away from the politics and intrigue of headquarters.

When I met Hemant Karkare for the first time in August last year, the walls of his office were mounted with tastefully polished driftwood in interesting shapes – a crucifix, a stag’s head – picked up from the jungles of Chandrapur. He was precise, almost formal. But that evening he was incensed. Both the ATS and the Crime Branch of the Bombay police were chasing a key informant, a car thief called Afzal Usmani, a crucial link to the Bombay module of the Indian Mujahideen (IM). The IM have been blamed for the series of bomb blasts across India in 2008. The Crime Branch got to him first. Usmani led them to the entire local IM module, and then, when the ATS asked for his custody, he ‘vanished’. The IM case had gone out of the ATS’s hands. (The Crime Branch says they had nothing to do with the disappearance of the informant.)

Karkare wanted to complain to the DGP, AN Roy. But Roy was fighting his own battles. His status at DGP faced a number of legal challenges. And, going by the buzz in police circles, he was said to be locked in a factional war with Police Commissioner Hassan Gafoor. Roy’s admirers, most of whom served under him when Roy was Bombay’s police commissioner, found Gafoor uncommunicative and bureaucratic, not a leader of men. Gafoor’s supporters claimed this was untrue, that Gafoor was competent, but less publicity-seeking than Roy.

With Halloween came this picture of a boy commando at dusk.  Dusk is when commandos start their missions, which in this case was a bucket of candy.  Before this boy could evaporate back into the fading light, I snapped his picture. 

Here’s a relisted Norton cafe racer that I liked a lot the first time around, and I don’t like it any less now. There is no reserve on the auction, so it should sell this time. Maybe it was a non-paying bidder last time? No idea. Current price is $2,550 with over 4 days left and a few bidders. Here’s the link to the original bike, or you can click through to the new listing through the pics below…
ORIGINAL POSTING

Commando

Contains arguably the finest depiction of villainy ever commited to celluloid – Vernon Wells is astonishing as the diabolical, Bennett.

Wow! The auction closed at $11,601! How cool! See the comment below from a friend of the seller…

Mmmmmmmmmm…

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh…

Beautiful. Nothing much else to say. I might have missed some minor detail that’s out of place and someone will point it out. Don’t care. Here’s some specs and more pictures below. There’s more pics and the seller’s writeup if you are interested in learning more or trying to buy the bike. The auction’s at $8,200 with 2 days left and 17 bidders (reserve HAS been met)…

The engine features the work of noted tuner Leo Goff including a balanced lower end, 10.1 pistons, Norris SS cam, and gas flowed head resulting in a very fast and smooth 750 Norton motor.
Alloy Rims
Steering Damper (Manx type)
Multi Rate Valve Springs (S&W)
Special Camshaft (Norris SS hotter than 2S Combat cam)
Paired Monobloc 1 1/8″ Carbs
Competition Manual Advance Magneto
5 Gal Racing Tank
Domiracer Seat
The tach and speedo were restored by Nisongers.
The magneto was rebuilt by Doug Wood.
The only flaw is some acid stains on the left silencer from a vented battery (since replaced with a sealed unit).
The bike is very strong and smooth and is ready to ride.

With about 21 hours left in this eBay auction, here’s a chance to own a classic Gus Kuhn Norton that is fully kitted out. It’s definitely not a show bike, and as the seller claims it starts easily and runs great this would probably be a great bike for Sunday morning runs up to Alice’s Restaurant. That being said, I’m sure this bike would attract a lot of attention if it was parked at any classic bike show.

Here’s a list of parts fitted to the bike

Racing 850 Kit
Updated AMAL MK2
Tomaselli clip-on
Morris mag wheels
AP brake master cylinder
Frame and motor number matching

While reserve hasn’t been met yet, I’d bet that there will be a few more bids before the auction ends. The price currently stands at $3,750 with 8 bids.

I went and asked on Twitter and Facebook about what movies from peoples childhood that they remembered most and always will. Here’s the list:

Pretty in Pink
The Never Ending Story
Ghostbusters
Die Hard
Commando
The Warriors
Flight of the Navigator
Short Circuit
Dark Crystal
All Dogs Go to Heaven
Cool World
Lost Boys
Trading Places
Return to Oz
Full Metal Jacket
Princess Bride
Labyrinth
Batteries Not Included
Hook
Tron
This Is Spinal Tap
The Goonies
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
Big
Back to the Future
Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure
WarGames
Poltergeist
Blues Brothers
Ruthless People
Throw Momma From The Train
Who Framed Roger Rabbit
Baby Boom
D.A.R.Y.L.
E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial
Explorers
Field of Dreams
Gremlins
The Burbs
Innerspace
Legend
Splash
Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan
Cocoon
Roxanne
Weird Science
Breakfast Club
Twilight Zone – The Movie
Stakeout
Raiders Of The Lost Ark
Critters
Money Pit

From a few of the movies on the list I can gather that some people have a somewhat scary childhood. Also I know that some of the films are from the 90s but sure people were children then as well.

Bionic Commando Rearmed
Although BC Rearmed uses a two-dimensional mechanics, familiar to many arcades early nineties, the developers did not use sprites and other archaic technologies. The game is quite a three-dimensional, special effects – brighter, and backgrounds – with objects. The same three-dimensional.

Will not go away and the miracle hand of the hero (bionic arm from flying out of it hook, working on the same principle as a spider’s web of Spider-Man), which, as in, Next-gene “namesake”, serves not only to overcome obstacles but also to fight with the bosses. For example, one of the first boss – a mechanical beetle – “falls” accurate throwing exploding barrels in unprotected places on the body. In addition to “attractive” and throwing functions, the hand of the hero’s amiss, and to reflect a variety of shells and bullets.

Linked “bonus” ties …

… Bionic Commando and Bionic Commando Rearmed. In Rearmed designers reward players bonus content and valuable advice for the sequel. After the game and get a bunch of bonuses do not forget to hide saves in a safe place. They’ll come in handy, when will the real,, Next-gen Bionic Commando.

Since the early nineties classic gameplay is not to attract the audience (except a handful of reactionaries), “grinovtsy” decided to add intricacy and involution in blunt and plain gameplay BC. Besides from jumping from platform to platform and shooting enemies, awaits us, and yet subtle mini-game “broken computer or your brain, as well as the difficult search for the secrets of (closely associated with the use of bionic arm).

In the spirit of the game like Halo Zero – dimensional shooter with a fan-made sprites Master Chifom, sprites and sprites of the enemies of the rest. If you have played in this miracle fans’ creativity, it is likely that the Green BC Rearmed will have you in my heart. This project though modest on all counts, but for its apparent simplicity hides a very exciting and challenging gameplay, from which all “podsevshih” may well have to pull off from the computers behind the ears, hair, and with the help of winches (or the same bionic arm) . So be careful.

Atari 800 XL (SECAM), lecteur XC11 en boite, Spy Vs Spy et Boulder Dash.

Tetris, Ultima V et Lemmings sur Nec PC 9801

4 jeux sur AMIGA

L’Aigle D’Or sur AMIGA en version démo (les 2)

les boites sont encore estampillées (AMSTRAD CPC)

Ashura sur SEGA MARK III

Flyer Winter Games sur Famicom DISK