Una manera no auditiva per a estar en contacte amb la música a través de la xarxa són les revistes especialitzades en aquest tema. També podem trobar algunes d’elles en edició impresa, però la divulgació d’aquestes publicacions és més comuna a la xarxa, donades les seues característiques i els seus avantatges.

-Mediatico no és una revista, és més bé un catàleg de revistes musicals de diferents estils. En realitat, és un directori de periòdics, revistes i ràdios; però nosaltres ens referíem a l’apartat de revistes musicals ja que en ell s’hi inclouen publicacions a la xarxa de tots els estils pensables. Hi trobem més de 70 revistes al nostre abast.

-Muzikalia, o la revista d’actualitat online independent, va nàixer a l’any 2000 i destaca per les seues entrevistes i reportatges. A més, s’hi inclouen tots els concerts amb un índex alfabètic. Aquesta revista recomana cinc discs per setmana i fa resenyes musicals, totes lloables. Com no, té fòrums de debat i blogs que continuen amb la temàtica de la revista però de manera personalitzada. Muzikalia va tenir un problemeta amb l’SGAE:

-La revista Mondosonoro, encara que siga més popular la seua versió impresa, també té versió digital.

Aquesta té l’estructura com la de qualsevol periòdic digital convencional a més de tenir possibilitat de subscripció. Ha estat guardonada amb el Premi 2009 de la Unió Fonogràfica Independent de la Música Independent (UFI) a millor mitjà de comunicació.

L'edició en paper de Mondosonoro, amb La bien querida com a portada.

-L’Enderrock és la primera publicació seriada de rock en català. Ja té més de deu anys de vida i també ha estat guardonada. En aquest cas amb el Premi Nacional de Cultura 2004 de la Generalitat de Catalunya, per la seua aposta en l’àmbit musical i juvenil en català. Les capçaleres editades són: Enderrock, Sons de la Mediterrània, jaç, Rockcol·lecció i l’Espectacle. La diferència respecte les altres revistes esmentades és que aquesta dóna la possibilitat de comprar CDs a través de la seua botiga digital, fins i tot, té un catàleg de més de 2,700 CDs. Com a novetat també hi trobem a la web la possibilitat de descarregar-se fons d’escriptori i logos per al mòbil. No hi ha cap dubte que aquesta revista està a l’última.

- Mister Pollo. La finalitat d’aquest blog és informar sobre grups alternatius i no són suficientment reconeguts. El Senyor Pollastre penja discs i videoclips d’aquests grups moderns amb el seu vist-i-plau corresponent. El Senyor Pollastre no es fa responsable del que facen els seguidors dels grups de música d’aquest blog. Per a publicar un disc, EP, maqueta o promo, heu de contactar amb Mr. Pollastre ací.

-Jenesaispop, o la revista moderna per excel·lència, va nàixer a l’any 2006 de la mà d’un grup d’amics interessats en el món blogger i, la majoria, llicenciats en Ciències de la Informació. Els seus creador afirmen que han estat influenciats per la moda, el cine, el disseny i la tele.

Destaquen els seus Top 20 setmanals i les seues curioses notícies. Com a exemple d’aquestes: el Top 100 frases de Shakira. Jenesaispop… és un tsunami.

Ens acomiadem amb una cançó de Klaus&Kinski en la festa aniversari de Jenesaispop.

THE RUTHLESS FOUR is a 1968 western that starred Van Heflin, Gilbert Roland, Klaus Kinski, and George Hilton as four partners after gold.

Sam Cooper(Van Heflin) is a prospector that had spent twenty years looking for gold only to be double-crossed by his partner when he finally made a strike. Forced to kill him in self-defense, he tries to pack all the gold they had mined out by himself. Deep in the Nevada Desert, he nearly dies trying to get out, then drinking at the river he finally reaches, is waylaid by desperate bandits who take his horses, weapons, and food, leaving him alive but knocked out with his gold.

It’s never explained why these men don’t take the gold as well. But then we wouldn’t have a movie, I guess, if they had. Cooper caches the bags and takes only a couple that he can carry out safely.

Once he gets back to town, after hiding the two bags he brought with him, he starts planning an expedition to the mine. Trusting no one, he sends for his adopted son, Manolo Sanchez(Hilton) who he hasn’t seen for years since he got tired of traipsing through the desert after the old man.

The young man comes and, as the plan is shaping up, reveals Brent the Blond(Kinski), insisting he’s going along. The relationship between the pair is never fully explained, but Manolo seems afraid of him and there is something else. Kinski plays his usual cold-blooded role, though he dresses as a priest and has that death-like start that he does so well.

Cooper suddenly wonders if he can trust the boy and hires Mason(Roland), an ex-army buddy, former friend who believes Cooper turned him in after they deserted for the reward, leaving him with several years in a prison in the Florida swamps and a case of malaria.

The four men never fully trust each other. Manolo and the Blond hang together, Mason makes it plain he’s really along to make Cooper pay for turning him in. Cooper insists he didn’t.

Cooper is the only one who can get them to the mine and, once there, greed starts to overwhelm the four men. If this all seems familiar, and I’m sure it does, the movie reads like a spaghetti western THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE.

As opposed to a lot of these genre, it has a nice, tight script by Augusto Caminito and Fernando Di Leo and was directed by Giorgio Capitani with some nice acoustic guitar work in places. Highly recommended.

Herrliches Video über den Dreh zum Film Fitzcarraldo. Hauptdarsteller Klaus Kinski rastet am Set total aus.

After a solid two weeks of almost non-stop work on one production after another, with another 2-3 weeks left to go, I think this video accurately sums up myself and my classmates’ mental situations.  It is glorious work and I love it dearly, but sleep is the currency of this trade, and becoming accustomed to an average five hours per night has its consequences.

All of which doesn’t distract from the fact that this post is a dressed up placeholder.  Yes, CINEMA TRUTH is still kicking around out there, and I really truly can’t wait to share my currently gestating Decade series – focusing on my favourites, of course, and the major trends that I find interesting enough to write about.  And I’ve listened at least 12-15 times through the new Switchfoot album, HELLO HURRICANE, and have thoughts on this new, very very worthwhile addition to their discography.  There are other good things being planned, slowly, but I want to do right by them, so it will take a while to pop them out, fully formed and readable.

Until then, let’s spend some time answering the following question: What is one of your favourite little scenes of the decade?  What’s that one scene that no one else cares about or remembers, but makes the film for you?

I ask because tonight I was thinking about MINORITY REPORT (2002), and a wonderful scene between Tom Cruise and Lois Smith.  It’s the bit where Cruise finds out about the minority report, which should help him prove his innocence – you can hear the plot wheels grinding into a higher gear – but it’s also a great showcase for Cruise and Smith as actors, and for the dialogue by Scott Frank and Jon Cohen.  Their words have sharpness and poetry, and enchant somewhat while getting lots and lots of exposition done.  By the end of the scene, you don’t really care that it was all talk about “this history,” and “go there, do that.”  Smith is a treat, not so much chewing her dialogue as holding it on her tongue, sucking the juice out at certain intervals.  It’s one my favourite little moments in film from this decade.

I couldn’t find a video of the clip, but here’s a shot of Lois Smith as Dr. Iris Hineman, the Mother of Precrime.

The future (i.e. December) looks promising.  See you on the other side.

Video H/T: My good bud Aaron May, who doesn’t have anything I can link to, as far as I’m aware.  His regular site is down for the time being.

When Werner Herzog’s remake/sequel of Abel Ferrera’s Bad Lieutenant was announced, it gave Internet cynics fodder for an endless stream of articles chuckling over how absurd the whole project was. Was this ridicule triggered by the potential folly of recreating a project as uncompromising as Ferrera’s original? Was it the standard cineaste’s resistance to recycling older movies, or the thought of recycling something made so recently? Or was it that Herzog had cast Nicolas Cage? Without a frame being shot it was already being heralded as a disaster, as if Herzog’s legendary take-no-prisoners attitude had suddenly metamorphosed into some kind of dementia. When the trailer arrived the derisory laughter increased. Cage’s reputation as the bad movie actor du jour has become so entrenched in popular thinking that the obviously intentional humour of the trailer was treated as evidence that Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans was another Wicker-Man-style disaster waiting to happen. The reality is that Herzog’s crime drama will more than likely disappoint those who were hoping for a failure, but thrill everyone else.

Cage portrays Terrence McDonagh, a police detective who inherits the mantle of Bad Lieutenant after injuring himself during a post-Katrina rescue. After this quick origin story we see McDonagh in the grip of an addiction to painkillers and coke, deep in debt and stealing drugs from criminals. The only thing that separates him from the perps he chases is his dedication to the job, especially his determination to bring to justice the drug kingpin Big Fate (Alvin “Xzibit” Joiner) who he suspects is responsible for the murder of an immigrant family. So far, so Keitel. McDonagh, however, is lucky enough to have a girlfriend (Frankie, played by Cage’s Ghost Rider co-star Eva Mendes) who just so happens to be a prostitute on a downward spiral of her own. Though neither of them are particularly admirable people, they seem to care for each other. As they become more absorbed into a depraved world, this connection seems to be the one thing that might save them.

The similarity to Ferrera’s original is obvious, but whereas that movie was harrowing and dark, Herzog brings an unexpected sense of possibility and even joy to this tale. Avoiding the tortured and oppressive air of Catholic guilt that made the original so distinctive, Herzog gives McDonagh a chance at redemption that doesn’t revolve around appeasing an indifferent God, and thus generates a sense of unexpected uplift. Additionally, while Ferrera set his movie in a decaying New York, Herzog takes metaphorical advantage of New Orleans’ recent history and the attempts of the citizens to rebuild their city, efforts that echo McDonagh’s own. Even at its darkest Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is filmed in almost constant brightness, and it helps that Herzog has filled the supporting cast with amusing eccentrics played by terrific character actors like Vondie Curtis Hall, Jennifer Coolidge, Fairuza Balk, Michael Shannon, and Brad Dourif. Also included is a subdued and underused Val Kilmer as a cop lacking even McDonagh’s vanishing moral core.

All act as amusing foils for Cage, but special mention must be made of Shea Whigham as abusive mob goon Justin who appears midway through the film to abuse Frankie. His dopey attitude and woozily delivered threats are sure-fire crowd-pleasers. Perhaps that’s the most surprising thing about Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. Even though the trailer featured a number of amusing moments, the refreshingly breezy tone of the movie is a surprise, even though it features murder, sexual abuse, drug-taking, and old-lady-menacing. While Ferrera was determined to send the viewer to hell with Keitel, Herzog takes a cue from William Finkelstein’s script and makes a movie that does all it can to send the audience home with a smile on its face. The lackadaisical approach does come at the cost of narrative momentum: several scenes in the movie meander without purpose, which is something you wouldn’t expect from a seasoned TV writer who has worked on L.A. Law, NYPD Blue and Murder One, though the demented elements of the movie seem to tally with his work on lost TV classic Cop Rock:

It’s possible Finkelstein was partly responsible for the unconventional plotting, but even so, Herzog has little interest in the usual rhythms of crime dramas, happily chasing diversions or playing genre conventions for absurd laughs. He’s smart enough to keep an eye on the needs of the plot — especially the question of how out of control McDonagh actually is, which leads to some satisfying surprises in the final act — and to make sure we see the depressed human behind the outrageous bad behaviour of our protagonist, but he also has a need to drop in random instances of The Weird, often involving animals. A crocodile gets a memorable cameo, but it’s the iguanas that will stay with you when you leave the cinema. Nothing can prepare you for the already legendary Iguana-Cam. Herzog will be pleased to know that this scene brought the house down at the London Film Festival screening we attended. It is a completely deranged moment, a perfectly timed comedic aside, and impossible to forget. (If you wish to experience this scene in its proper context, avoid this clip until you’ve seen the movie.)

Herzog’s unpredictable take on the genre would not work without a strong performance at the core of it, and he is lucky to have Cage on his side. Herzog has found an actor of almost Kinski-esque intensity to guide his movie, someone who understands exactly what he wants and can collaborate as an equal, if this interview is to be believed. It often feels as if each of these imaginative artists has goaded the other on to greater weirdness. Nevertheless, even when the movie threatens to disappear into a cloud of peculiarity, their intelligence brings us back from the brink. Even the most formally or narratively daring moments in the film feel right, as if the movie couldn’t have been made any other way; eccentricity without the desperate quirkiness of a lesser filmmaker like, say, Richard Kelly. Without Herzog the movie would probably have stayed on a familiar genre path, and without Cage Herzog would have been forced to work with someone lacking in the ability to fuse madness with sincerity. Their collaboration is truly fortuitous.

Much has been made of Cage’s manic scenes, which range in tone from darkly funny to troubling, and sometimes both simultaneously. (Again, skip this if you wish to remain unspoiled.)

Less has been said about the humanity of Cage’s performance. While never having a scene as memorable and cathartic as Keitel’s astonishing breakdown in church from the original movie, Cage litters the movie with panicky moments where we get a glimpse of a man who knows he has gone astray. While Harvey Keitel’s lieutenant seems barely aware of his soul’s need for salvation until he collapses in church, McDonagh seems to know things have gone wrong and tries to correct this. Fans of Ferrera’s movie might complain that the remake loses focus by showing a man consciously scrambling to get back to a state of virtue, but what would Herzog gain from replicating Keitel’s downward trajectory? McDonagh’s desire for absolution generates a tension between his goals and his actions that powers what would otherwise be a fragmented and unsatisfying movie.

Cage brilliantly portrays McDonagh’s regression into a state of adolescent impulsiveness. His colleagues and acquaintances seem baffled or annoyed by his delinquent behaviour — both his unintentional outbursts and the rare moments when he harnesses his weird energy to do good –and only Frankie seems to want to help him. Casting Eva Mendes — a naturally charming actress capable of more than she is usually given to do — is another of Herzog’s masterstrokes. Her chemistry with Cage was one of the few truly great things to come out of Mark Steven Johnson’s terrible Ghost Rider.

This is easily the most layered and entertaining work Cage has done since Adaptation — not to mention his most likeable performance — and is enough to trigger hope of a new great Age of Cage. Even some of his more eccentric choices — such as suddenly imitating Ed Sullivan for about twenty minutes and then stopping with no explanation — make a weird kind of sense by the end of the film. His work here runs the risk of being little more than a series of gimmicky outbursts, but it often transcends mere flash to become something more profound, both comedic and tragic. McDonagh has become possessed by something alien and primal — something so destructive it’s almost a form of demonic possession — and it is thrilling to see him battle against it to reclaim his soul. The final, unexpected image will warm even the hardest heart.

But hey, if that’s not enough to convince you to see the movie, just go for the iguanas. You’ll thank me.

Recently I defended Michael Bay (while simultaneously expressing how odious his movies can be), and now I rush to the defense of another man used as a lazy punchline to a billion deeply unfunny jokes about bad cinema: the acting colossus called Nicolas Cage. As with Bay, Cage is treated like a cautionary tale about how that vile, Chthonic monolith called Hollywood can drive people insane with greed, how talented individuals can lose their way and begin a descent from making art to making dross. He is accused of sleepwalking through films, cashing checks, appearing in unworthy crowd-pleasing dreck, and working with anti-cinematic infidels. His personal life is raked over (he keeps impulsively marrying women! He calls his kid a silly name! He buys too much crap!), his eccentricities treated as signs of mental illness, and his success used as example number two in the case against modern culture (example one being the success of Bay). Only Ben Affleck is treated with less respect, a fact that I intend to address in a future post where I defend him too. (I’m serious about that. Affleck is awesome.)

There are millions who seem to love to take a short-cut in thinking and just refer to Cage as a has-been with no understanding of what a joke he has become, though Cage’s most famous critic has been Sean Penn, the former friend who once told the New York Times, “Nic Cage is no longer an actor. He could be again, but now he’s more like a…performer”. This was said around the time that Cage appeared in two Bruckheimer productions — The Rock and Con Air — which seems to be the one thing an artist can do that will sink his credibility. Why did Penn single out Cage for that and not Cage’s co-stars Ed Harris, or Sean Connery, or John Cusack, or John Malkovich? They’re respected actors who have won awards and are considered to be fine actors, but Cage falls into the line of fire for moving from carefully considered character pieces like Leaving Las Vegas to action movies, three of which he did in a row (the third being the classic John Woo SF actioner Face/Off). His wildly broad performances in those movies were almost certainly a factor, but then he has always given broad performances, within which lie subtle moments (see also Wild At Heart, Birdy, Peggy Sue Got Married, etc.). They’re entertaining displays of eye-rolling crowd-pleasing acting pyrotechnics, but there’s a soul there too. This is what I think of as getting The Full-On Cage Experience, with madness and soulfulness tied together. Penn could never pull off anything like that. When he mugs, he ends up wrecking the movie.

By all that’s holy and unholy, how much better was Penn in Milk, or Dead Man Walking (incidentally, that’s one of my favourite screen performances of all time)? It’s not even a fair competition. Besides, this accusation, insinuating that Cage is no longer an actor, is rich coming from someone who appeared in I Am Sam. I’ll take an entertaining and unpretentious actor having fun playing a demonic avenger with a flaming skull than some humourless chide wasting his talent on Oscar-baiting bullshit like that any day of the week. Sadly, Penn’s not the only one who thinks Cage has pissed his talent away. In this little essay, Entertainment Weekly’s Owen Gleiberman compares Cage to Dr. Wesley T. Snipes, which is prescient considering Cage’s current tax woes, but while Snipes has descended into Direct-To-DVD hell, Cage is still working on big-budget movies and smaller curios, still attracting the viewing public, and still cranking out performances that are — at best — thrilling, and — at worst — merely entertaining.

The one argument that genuinely annoys me is the one where Cage is cranking out piss-poor, lazy performances since his last truly astonishing performance in Jonze and Kaufman’s Adaptation. I’ve often said that I think his work in that (along with his work in Leaving Las Vegas and Raising Arizona) deserves a coveted Shades of Caruso Free Pass…

…but of all the movies he has made since, only three performances really disappointed me: his work as Benjamin Gates in the first National Treasure movie, where he seemed awfully tired; his creepy performance in Next, the empty action thriller adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s clever short story; and his catatonic turn as a greasy-haired loser assassin in the disastrous remake of Bangkok Dangerous, which I suspect he took so he could get a holiday in Thailand. That last one really did give me cause for concern, but Gleiberman likes to make out that Cage is regularly signing on for “grade-Z genre schlockers”, which apparently include Ghost Rider and The Wicker Man. Neither of them are good movies, but they were not developed as low-budget cash-ins. Ghost Rider was obviously meant to be a big comic book adaptation, with a pretty good cast and a $110m budget, and even if it was absolutely dire, it was made with love by fans of the character, of which Cage is one.

The Wicker Man is a dumb-ass movie by any standards, but it’s made by Neil LaBute, who was once a promising director. He could have turned in a thoughtless remake of the excellent original (which would fit under Gleiberman’s umbrella of “genre schlocker”) but instead made something personal, for better or worse. For all it’s faults it’s obviously of a part with his other movies, dealing with his favourite themes of misanthropy, deceit, misogyny, fear of opening up to others, and gynophobia. I’ve occasionally argued that The Wicker Man is a satire on male fear of impotence and castration, a paranoid comical fantasy about a scheming cabal of exaggerated feminist ballbreakers who are out to destroy the penis, turning all men into drones and semen-donors whose sexuality is merely a sacrifice of power to the almighty womb in order to replenish the earth with children.

Sadly, even if this was LaBute’s intention — and even if Cage was in on this project for that reason alone — it’s still ridiculous and poorly made and filled with wonderfully camp moments. Cage maintains that the comedic aspects of the movie were not lost on him. In an interview with Spike Jonze, Drew McWeeny discusses meeting Cage, and Jonze is full of praise:

Jonze: I love [Cage]. We had the best time working together. He really works and focuses.
McWeeny: His publicist was a little wary of me being there, I guess, because he doesn’t do a lot of press and he doesn’t allow press around a lot, but he really was very accessible once I’d been there for a few days, and he kind of warmed up to me. And he was really just fascinating. I loved chatting with him about stuff.
Jonze: Totally chill.
McWeeny: Yeah. And I think far more self-aware than most people think. Like I think some people think Nic is in this vacuum and doesn’t realize how crazy some of his performances are. I got the feeling he was totally aware of how people perceive things. We were talking about THE WICKER MAN, and he was like, “How do people call that an unintentional comedy? I’m in a bear suit kicking Lelee Sobieski in the throat. I know it’s funny.”
Jonze: He just takes it so seriously that nobody knows how to take him. Like PEGGY SUE GOT MARRIED, I was like, “What is that?” Like I was 15 so I didn’t really know.
McWeeny: I just love how you can always count on him to push things further, like VAMPIRE’S KISS. He ate a roach, man.
Jonze: And also just the insanity of that performance, just the balls-out fearlessness.

Is it enough that Cage is aware of the ridiculousness of the movies he is appearing in? For me it is. I strongly suspect Cage is the most easily bored person in the world, and unfortunately that is paired with the ability to get work in movies that pay millions of dollars for him to spend on cars and comics and castles. Some of the films he has been in lately are truly awful, and I would never argue that they weren’t. Neverthless, I watch them for those flashes of manic commitment from Cage — The Partial Cage Experience — that delight me so. Are they valid acting choices, or is he merely trying to entertain himself while he trudges through formulaic populist bilge? As far as I’m concerned, even if he’s merely trying to entertain himself, he succeeding in entertaining me, and surely that’s what counts.

The only other popular actors that delight me as much are Clooney (who can do pathos and comedy equally well), Streep (who is always the best thing about everything she has ever been in), and maybe Jeff Bridges. Even those fine actors have not given me as much pleasure as Cage does, even when you forget about his early, golden years and concentrate on this bizarre stretch of poor movies. Since Adaptation we’ve had the insanity of Not The Bees…

…a literally hysterical fiery transformation…

…a Shout-Off with Rose Byrne (who is utterly overmatched, despite her invention of the word “chuldren”)…

…a run in with an obnoxious know-it-all child (the best part of which is how he treats the kid like an adult for most of the scene)…

…and a frustrating teaser of what could be his finest hour, if ever Rob Zombie got the money to make it…

His willingness to make fun of himself is the thing that keeps his crazy public and professional persona viable, and though many of his actions seem completely deranged, I honestly believe he’s playing a trick on us. Can someone who makes a series of adverts like these really be unintentionally weird?

(N.B. Anyone who has a sense of humour about themselves gets a break from me. Even the reportedly tyrannical and insensitive director Michael Bay gets points for playing up to his image with this commercial for Verizon:)

I’m a fully paid up Cage fan. For entertainment value, he can’t be beat. To see a person with such intelligence, quirkiness, restlessness, fearlessness, and energy do his thing in such big-screen movies is a rare thrill. If I squint I can see why Cage is now considered a hack by critics and film-watchers, because it’s easy to confuse being in a terrible movie and actually being terrible, but I worry that maybe people are also turned off by his intensity and his allegiance to the weird. The odd soporific performance aside, perhaps what baffles people the most is seeing him devote so much energy to projects that they feel don’t deserve it. Personally, I think that’s admirable. He’s getting paid enough, after all. Dance, you fucking monkey! Dance for your millions!

And yet even though I revel in his passionate and unpredictable work in crud, I’ve become concerned that we would never get another performance out of Cage that is as electrifying as his best work (disclaimer: I’ve not seen Lord of War or The Weather Man, and some have said he gives solid, rounded performances in both). Once upon a time he would work with Lynch and Scorsese, and the performances he gave were over-the-top yet grounded in some kind of emotional profundity, but lately those performances — while entertaining, memorable, and stronger than popular wisdom would have you believe — are lacking that extra fire. Well, I’m happy to report the return of The Full-On Cage Experience, as he takes on the task of being the 21st Century Klaus Kinski. More on that tomorrow, when I review Werner Herzog’s excellent Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans.

English title:  Aguirre, the Wrath of God, heretofore referred to as Aguirre

AguirreGermanPoster_
Aguirre is Werner Herzog’s 3rd movie and the first he made with Klaus Kinski – a collaboration that lasted 15 years and six films.  Kinski was a brilliant actor, no doubt; yet of the 100+ movies he starred in, we most remember his work with Herzog.  their partnership was not without issues:  they threatened to kill each other regularly and their blowouts were legendary – (unconfirmed) legend also has it that during several scenes in Aguirre Herzog directed Kinski while pointing a gun to his head.

the story is based (loosely) in fact:  in XVI-century Peru, a Spanish expedition has just crossed the Andes and is making the descent towards the Amazon river.  we see them struggle with the jungle, the difficult terrain and the constant rain as they try to make their way, encumbered by their horses, lady-carrying litters, and equipment.
the leader of the expedition decides to send an advance down the Amazon, led by Pedro de Ursia; Aguirre is second-in-command.
once on the river the group is divided into three rafts and begins the journey – there are attacks from hostile indians, and a revolt.  de Ursia is removed from leadership.  food supplies are running out, fever is rampant and arrows continue to fly in from nowhere

<object width=”425″ height=”344″><param value=”http://www.youtube.com/v/2q3D0h4xCro&hl=en_US&fs=1&”></param><param name=”allowFullScreen” value=”true”></param><param name=”allowscriptaccess” value=”always”></param><embed src=”http://www.youtube.com/v/2q3D0h4xCro&hl=en_US&fs=1&” type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” allowscriptaccess=”always” allowfullscreen=”true” width=”425″ height=”344″></embed></object> Aguirre trailer here’s a bit more of the marvelous opening shot

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the Aguirre soundtrack by Popol Vuh contributes to the dreamlike quality of the trip downriver

<object width=”425″ height=”344″><param value=”http://www.youtube.com/v/1u7vzaqITMA&hl=en_US&fs=1&”></param><param name=”allowFullScreen” value=”true”></param><param name=”allowscriptaccess” value=”always”></param><embed src=”http://www.youtube.com/v/1u7vzaqITMA&hl=en_US&fs=1&” type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” allowscriptaccess=”always” allowfullscreen=”true” width=”425″ height=”344″></embed></object> l’acrimei di rei (Aguirre I) the entire soundtrack is in YT:   Aguirre I Aguirre II Aguirre III

NOTE: If you want to read about Lope de Aguirre, you can start at the wiki

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lope_de_Aguirre

De Aguirre’s letter to Phillip of Spain   http://www.losttrails.com/pages/Tales/deAguirre

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In preparation for — nay, in honor of — the upcoming premier of Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call in New Orleans, directed by Werner Herzog and starring the great performer Nicolas Cage, the Acme Video blog will be running a series of (at least) daily pieces on the entire Cage Oeuvre, with its startling highs and mystifying lows. It is one man’s tale… a chronicle of madness and obsession.

DAY 1: VAMPIRE’S KISS

I begin with Vampire’s Kiss because, for the uninitiated, for the non-believers, for the haters and the nay-sayers, there is probably no better single testament to Nick Cage’s truly unique, entirely reckless, batshit-crazy brand of “acting.”  This is Cage’s Last Tango In Paris. His Aguirre, Wrath of God. His Silence Of The Lambs. If you crossed Marlon Brando, Klaus Kinski, and Hannibal Lecter you would end up with something close to Peter Loew, Cage’s utterly psychotic method-acting transformation from depressed-skirt-chasing-1980’s-literary-agent to control-freak-vampire-maniac-rapist.

One is tempted to use the phrase “a descent into madness,” but Vampire’s Kiss is more like a private tour of every wing of the nut-house. Loew is mad even at the film’s outset — a spastic, giggling, sexually-charged playboy, with women and money to burn and an awesomely Gothic Manhattan apartment. Cage adopted a strange, high-falutin, vaguely English accent for part, which comes and goes depending on his mood (and in one of several phenomenal scenes with his shrink, it actually becomes contagious; see the clip below). It’s just one of several crazy-as-a-fox decisions Cage makes, choices that would have been disastrous for a lesser actor — or at least one with smaller cajones. The fun really gets started once Loew gets his first vampire bite and begins his fitful, wildly uneven mutation into a blood-starved creature of the night. A fun enough premise in its own right, but both the film — and primarily, Cage — take so many stylistic left-turns that it’s not long before you’re feeling just as lost and desperate as Loew, wandering through Robert Bierman’s fantastically cheerless Manhattan. Vampire’s Kiss then becomes a truly Kafkaesque fracturing of the Cage psyche. Donning a pair of old-person driving sunglasses, Cage’s movements become decidedly bat-like, as he leaps and flits around his office, screaming and twitching at his lowly assistant because of some completely insignificant file that’s gone missing. Much of the film is devoted to the manic-depressive head games Loew plays on this poor young woman (a perfectly mousy Maria Conchita Alonso) who fears — rightly — for her safety. Cage’s performance is truly one of the moodiest I’ve ever seen, and I mean that in the best possible sense: you can’t look away, and you never know what’s next. Few actors have ever mixed horror and comedy this well.

He eats a cockroach, people (in fact he ate three, one for each take). Gobbles it up. The final scene is an insane Cage-vs.-Cage riff, basically like watching a psychopath simultaneously prosecute and defend himself in a court of law. You MUST see this film.

Impossible to pick just one scene, but yeah… this one rules.

Brilliant. Time to talk about our Ten lists once more, so settle in for the long haul and try and keep up. Much discussion ensues as Sam tries to extol the virtues of Ingmar Bergman, praise the magical realism of Billy Liar and attempt to make sense of All About Lily Chou-Chou. John continues the theme, causing slight, though understandable, consternation with his uncensored views on Raging Bull and confessions of multiple tears during Schindler’s List. Tom rounds the night off in business-like fashion with praise for The 400 Blows, controversial dislike for the second half of Stalker and man-crushed love for Le Samourai.

Download The Movie Overdose Episode 40.5

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Fernando Di Leo si cimenta nell’horror/thriller con questo La bestia uccide a sangue freddo; il risultato finale, aldilà di alcune geniali trovate a livello visivo, è un pasticciato film in cui si mescolano efferati delitti, un pò di sangue e di macabri omicidi, e poco più.
La storia prende corpo con il litigio tra due coniugi, Hans e sua moglie Ruth, in seguito al quale l’uomo decide di far ricoverare la donna nell’istituto psichiatrico del prof.Oesterman. All’interno della clinica si sviluppano i soliti intrecci morbosi, tra una infermiera e la sua paziente di colore, tra un’altra paziente e un giardiniere e una relazione amorosa tra la signora Chaeryl e il medico della clinica, il dottor Clay.

Klaus Kinski , il Dr. Francis Clay

Margaret Lee è Cheryl Hume

L’atmosfera dell’istituto, già di per se avvolta in una cappa insalubre e morbosa, diventa angosciante quando un misterioso assassino incapucciato inizia a mietere vittime tra il personale e le pazienti della struttura.
La prima a subire un attentato è Chaeryl, che però sfugge alla morte; poi, in un crescendo di terrore, vengono uccisi una infermiera, a cui viene mozzata la testa in giardino, la signora Ruth, pugnalata a morte nel suo letto, l’autista della clinica Augusto, l’unico ad aver visto in azione il misterioso killer, e infine Anna

Rosalba Neri è Anna Palmieri

(l’insaziabile donna che ha un legame con il giardiniere) e Mara, la bella ragazza di colore che si stava trastullando in un rapporto lesbico con l’infermiera Hilde. Il professor Oesterman e il Dr. Clay dapprima tentano di sbrogliarsela da soli, poi si rivolgono alla polizia; d’accordo con l’ispettore Kore, tendono una trappola con la collaborazione di Chaeryl al misterioso assassino…..

La bestia uccide a sangue freddo, come già detto, non è un gran film; nonostante l’indubbio mestiere di Di Leo, la sceneggiatura mostra grosse falle. A poco vale il cast messo su dal regista, nel quale spicca un opaco Klaus Kinskj, per una volta in un ruolo non da cattivissimo, la bella Margareth Lee, beniamina del pubblico televisivo italiano nel ruolo di Chaeryl, una affascinante e spogliatissima Rosalba Neri, nel ruolo della ninfomane Anna e Monica Strebel in quello dell’infermiera dalle inclinazioni particolari. I colpi di scena latitano, e ben presto i misteriosi omicidi sembrano essere legati ad un filo conduttore piuttosto esile, ed infatti il finale non smentisce le premesse, con un bagno di sangue assolutamente illogico.

La versione italiana del film, abbastanza osè per l’epoca in cui venne girato, non include alcune scene molto forti che vennero viceversa aggiunte per il mercato estero: in esse si vedono l’atto di autoerotismo della Neri (forse lei, forse una controfigura, chissà) e lo stesso atto fatto da Monica Strebel, oltre a qualche sforbiciata come quella delle scene del rapporto amoroso tra il giardiniere e la Neri nella serra della clinica.

In definitiva, un prodotto debole, anche se non inguardabile: la mano di Di Leo salva il tutto da un naufragio annunciato dopo una buona mezzora di film.
Poche scene gore, fa le qual l’omicidio di Mara, avvenuto con l’uso di una balestra che lancia una freccia dal giardino, la decapitazione dell’infermiera e le scene finali, in cui il folle omicida massacra le infermiere con una mazza residuo medioevale, prima di cadere sotto il fuoco dei poliziotti.
Troppo poco per dare una valutazione quantomeno sufficiente ad un prodotto che dovremmo inserire tra i B movie.

La bestia uccide a sangue freddo ,un film di Fernando Di Leo. Con Klaus Kinski, Margaret Lee, Rosalba Neri, Jane Garret, Gioia Desideri, Fernando Cerulli, John Karlsen, Monica Strebel, Ettore Geri, Carla Mancini
Horror, durata 90 min. – Italia 1971.

Klaus Kinski     …     Dr. Francis Clay
Margaret Lee    …     Cheryl Hume
Rosalba Neri    …     Anna Palmieri
Jane Garret    …     Mara
John Karlsen    …     Professor Osterman
Gioia Desideri    …     Ruth
John Ely    …     Giardiniere
Fernando Cerulli    …     Augusto, l’autista
Giulio Baraghini    …     Poliziotto
Ettore Geri    …     L’ispettore Kore
Monica Strebel    …     L’infermiera Hilde
Carla Mancini    …     Infermiera
Franco Marletta    …     Infermiere

Regia:     Fernando Di Leo
Soggetto:     Fernando Di Leo, Nino Latino
Sceneggiatura:     Fernando Di Leo, Nino Latino
Produttore:     Tiziano Longo, Armando Novelli
Fotografia:     Franco Villa
Montaggio:     Amedeo Giomini
Effetti speciali:
Musiche:     Silvano Spadaccino
Scenografia:     Teresa Ferrone, Nicola Tamburo
Costumi:     Marcella Moretti
Trucco:     Antonio Mura

Klaus Kinski played parts in a lot of spaghetti westerns, usually a slightly off kilter killer, hamming it up outrageously sometimes. He had some of the most bug-eyed expressions I’ve ever seen in these things.

This one is a little different. For the first time, at least that I’ve seen, Kinski is the wronged man, the main player, a man imprisoned for ten years for a crime he didn’t commit.

Director Antonio Margheriti was well known in Italy for his horror films and it shows in this one. He has all the tropes of a good horror film. The main sequence is set at night, a storm is brewing, wind blowing heavily(a tornado has been predicted), resulting in a lot of doors/windows slamming loudly, curtains flapping, a church bell constantly tolling. There’s even a priest playing spooky music on an organ.

Gary Hamilton(Kinski) is pardoned by the President after ten years for his service during the war and he’s returning home by stage. A young man in an army uniform is talking with a couple of women about visiting home during a break from West Point. When he mentions his name, Dick Acombar, Hamilton reacts and we know there is a connection. He tells the boy to mention his name, Gary Hamilton, and tell dad that he will come by to see him later tonight.

You know this is the man that framed him and Hamilton is out to exact revenge for that bit of betrayal.

The bulk of the story from that point is one long sequence during the storm, dark, with Hamilton stalking Acombar’s men. He’s presented as soon sort of spirit, first appearing as a silhouette on the horizon, then the horse galloping through town riderless.

Where did he go?

An unusual western. Kinski is very good at those over the top villains. But I noticed one thing watching this movie. Most face shots of the actor, sometimes full, sometimes just the eyes. he’s remarkably calm. Still, with those eyes, he presents a scary look, more so than a lot of more animated faces I’ve seen.

Worth a look.

The poster here is from the German release. I’ve even included the German Trailer:

Brilliant. Time to talk about our Ten lists once more, so settle in for the long haul and try and keep up. Much discussion ensues as Sam tries to extol the virtues of Ingmar Bergman, praise the magical realism of Billy Liar and attempt to make sense of All About Lily Chou-Chou. John continues the theme, causing slight, though understandable, consternation with his uncensored views on Raging Bull and confessions of multiple tears during Schindler’s List. Tom rounds the night off in business-like fashion with praise for The 400 Blows, controversial dislike for the second half of Stalker and man-crushed love for Le Samourai.

Download The Movie Overdose Episode 40.5

Remember to email us, sugarplums!

WOYZECK av Werner Herzog (1979)
Med Klaus Kinski, Eva Mattes, Wolfgang Reichmann, Willy Semmelrogge, Josef Bierbichler, Paul Burian, Volker Prechtel, Dieter Augustin, Irm Hermann, Wolfgang Bächler, Rosemarie Heinikel, Herbert Fux

SPOILERVARNING

Om man ska använda sig av ett par kategorier som är så ofantliga att de bara kan ge en mycket grov och högst förenklad bild av verkligheten kan man säga att det europeiska filmspråket skiljer sig dramatiskt från det amerikanska. På det är Woyzeck av Werner Herzog ett utpräglat exempel. Fast den är också ett utpräglat exempel på en sorts film som är djupt rotad i nittonhundrasjuttiotalets filmkonst.

Världen såg mycket annorlunda ut under sjuttiotalet och som en effekt av rådande kulturella strömningar var den bättre, europeiska filmen inte så sällan betydligt svårtillgängligare och mer intellektualiserande än den amerikanska. På gott och ont. De lyckade exemplen är stor filmkonst där angelägna teman inträngande gestaltas och behandlas; de mindre lyckade exemplen är pseudointellektualiserande trams. För att tala klarspråk.

I allt väsentligt är Woyzeck ett exempel på det senare.

Vilket är synd, eftersom den också är en utomordentlig film. På sätt och vis.

Woyzeck består av en lång rad mycket teatraliska, stundtals vackra tablåer. Människorna som befolkar tablåerna talar högtravande och onaturligt, de formulerar sig som om de håller tal för tittaren, som om det här är ett antal obildade människors misslyckade försök att efter ansenlig tankemöda göra intryck på sin publik med dumma, förment djupsinniga filosofiska floskler och insikter i den mänskliga naturen. Att avsikten varit att framställa dem – i synnerhet kaptenen och läkaren – som klent begåvade men övertygade om sin egen väldiga, intellektuella kapacitet är tämligen uppenbart. Men syftet med det förbigår tittaren. Något egentligt samband finns inte mellan tablåerna, annat än den stundtals avklippta, röda tråd som utgörs av Klaus Kinskis upprördhet över att den sannolikt prostituerade modern till hans barn – Eva Mattes – varit otrogen och han därför utom sig av svartsjuka mördar henne.

Fast den intrigen, den delen av filmen, berättas i ett litet fåtal av tablåerna och dyker som sagt bara upp då och då. Exakt vilken funktion de många övriga tablåerna fyller är mycket oklart och många av dem är tröttsamt ansträngda. Filmens uppbyggnad påminner som synes inte så lite om Roy Anderssons betydligt mer sentida Sånger från andra våningen.

Ändå är Woyzeck som sagt en utomordentlig film, eller skulle ha kunnat bli. För tablåerna är vackra, det bestialiska mordet är suggestivt och fasansfullt och skrämmande nog vackert även det, och om någon hade brytt sig om att förse den här filmen med ett manuskript innan inspelningen påbörjades skulle den ha blivit utomordentlig, eftersom Werner Herzog är en enastående begåvad filmregissör.

Och så har alltså Klaus Kinski huvudrollen. Klaus Kinski är absolut ojämförbar. Han spelar fullkomligt förryckt, i det närmaste psykotisk, något som han gör ytterst väl – eftersom han faktiskt var det i verkligheten. Exakt vilka diagnoser* han kan ha haft vet jag inte, men bipolärt syndrom, borderline och ADHD känns troliga. Bland annat därför, tror jag, och självklart tack vare sin avsevärda begåvning, skådespelade Klaus Kinski med en manisk, naken, inte så sällan både fascinerande och otäckt självblottande intensitet som ingen annan filmskådespelare i historien kunnat uppvisa. Det är inte alltid uppenbart hur mycket han spelar och hur mycket han är sig själv, för den monomana, stundtals psykotiska intensiteten var något han förde med sig till alla roller han någonsin gjorde. Och han är alltid mycket sevärd. Utan undantag. Klaus Kinski var ett unikum, en magnetiskt fascinerande och maniskt, intensivt utlevande människa.

Det intressanta är att föreställa sig Woyzeck med en annan skådespelare i huvudrollen. För det kan man inte föreställa sig, inte utan att filmen fullständigt kollapsar. Nu är den trots allt en film man bör se.

Kör hårt,
Bellis

* Jag är övertygad om att de måste ha varit flera och en intressant inblick i denna människas själsliv och leverne får man i Herzogs dokumentärfilm Min bäste ovän.

Well, folks, I’ve saved the best for last on this Cinematronica horror movie outing I’ve been tentatively referring to as OH MY GOD! THERE’S A DEAD BODY IN MY DVD PLAYER! SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE!!! We’ve seen thrillers, slashers, paranormal films, and monster movies. Now we come to Halloween night, and if any of you have decided to sit back, relax, and watch a scary movie with your family and friends, make it this one. This remake of the 1922 German Dracula re-imagining, created by Werner Herzog himself and starring the legendary Klaus Kinski, is one for the books. It’s eerie, it’s creepy, it’s frightening, and it captures all the original feel and flavor of the Murnau original. But it does the original even one better by adding Kinski as Count Orlok, who was the most intense actor of his generation. If you watch this movie tonight, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Okay, basically, the original Nosferatu was a German rip-off of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with really only the names changed to ensure they would not be sued. So it follows, almost to the letter, the events of the Stoker vampire tale. Here, though, the names have all been  re-replaced, and are now the names from the Bram Stoker tale. An estate agent named Jonathan Harker has made a lucrative deal recently with a man known as Count Dracula who wishes to buy a castle in Wismar. To complete the deal, Harker leaves for Transylvania, Romania to where the Count lives. After being unnerved by a panicky local populace in Transylvania, he goes and has a meeting with the Count, who is a terror to behold. With a thin white body, claw-like hands, long, sharp teeth like a predator’s, and a completely sleek head, he is seemingly not of this earth. But after Harker speaks to him, he comes to feel for this man, who is lonely and very courteous to his guest. After a meeting in which he catches a glimpse of a small portrait of Lucy, Harker’s wife, he instantly agrees to purchase the property. It seems all cut and dry, but Harker begins to have nightmares while he stays there of the Count, and his wife Lucy, back in Wismar, begins to have terrors of her own. Things don’t get any better as Dracula makes his move toward Wismar, as the crew of the ship moving him begins to die off mysteriously, Harker’s employer Renfield, is stricken with a violent madness, and Wismar itself slowly faces the grip of death as Dracula’s arrival becomes a harbinger of a massive shrink in the population. Who can stop this strange menace that seems to emanate from the hand of the inhuman Count? And will it be at the risk of their very soul if they try?

This is such a good remake. Everything that was so mesmerizing about the original is turned up to 11, and even the details Herzog took a liberty with are exceptional. One of my favorite things he changes here is the humanization of Dracula. He’s not some inhuman beast like the 1922 version; here, you get the sense that he despises himself and what he is, and that makes it so much more fulfilling when the blood starts flowing because you almost felt sorry for him. The distant look in his eyes when he speaks of his nature is an emotional highlight in this film. Herzog really reinforces his reputation as one of Germany’s finest directors here.

The cast is excellent. Stupendous, even. With Kinski as the anchor of the film, it’s hard to fail. His silent intensity is absolutely phenomenal. When he speaks, it resonates with the age of centuries, a lifetime comprised of lifetimes, and it is a wonder to be in the presence of the monster. And he is a monster. Because nothing is more heartbreaking than the one who stabs you in the back after you part from a handshake. I feel for Dracula, I really do. He has a sadness, imbued in him by Kinski, that is so palpable that I could see myself weeping for him. But he is, in the end, a villain, and not only because he must be. There’s something in him that wishes death, invites the cry of the fall upon himself. He is a beast, we the prey, and we two were never meant to be so close. I also enjoyed the acting of Isabelle Adjani, who plays the plucky and strong Lucy. The character is a vast improvement over the original, and Adjani is more than apt for the part. Lucy is stronger and more relatable, and she is also a lot smarter than the dumb-as-rocks character in the silent film. I like her involvement a lot, and it can’t be said that she isn’t just absolutely radiant.

But let’s not forget that this is a horror, and I was certainly frightened by more than a few scenes. Every time Kinski is on screen, he has that barely hinged demeanor that makes you feel that all bets are off. Look at the clip above and tell me that every second he and Lucy are alone together is not just torture. Renfield is also a scary bastard. At one point he actually freaks out and bites a cow!!! His eyes are priceless, and it’s a highlight of the film. The score by rock band Popol Vuh adds considerably to the mysterious theme of the film. It feels at times that we fall into this movie, as one falls into the subconscious when slumber comes upon us, and Popol Vuh blurs that line between the dream and the reality very well with their intensive score.

A great remake that needs to be lifted high on the ramparts. It might be the best movie I’ve seen from this Halloween bunch, and I’ve seen some amazing movies. You’d be hard-pressed to find a better vampire movie PERIOD, and if you have any idea just how many of those there are, you know that’s a serious statement. I love it; it’s scary, atmospheric, emotional, and well-made. Kinski and Herzog together made a pairing that defied conventions, but exceeded any expectations, and this, their second film together, is a watershed moment when their cohesiveness peaked in so many ways. I think you’ll like it a lot; I give Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht 10 bitten livestock out of 10! My highest recommendation!

Happy Halloween, everyone! I hope you enjoyed my little movie marathon! Tomorrow it’s back to brass tacks with a movie that I think everyone can relate to; Songs From the Second Floor! Until then!!!

“My total being is one large breeding ground for the shocks of the world. The entire universe pours into me, rages in me, rampages through me and over me. I wish I’d never been an actor! I wish I’d never had success! I’d rather have been a street walker selling my body, then selling my tears and my laughter, my grief and my joy.” – Klaus Kinski

What manic and fascinating creature! The quote above was lifted from the biography extra on the DVD feature of “Aguirre, the Wrath of God“ (1972), uttered by the man who plays its central character, his face brazen with wide-set eyes and thick lips, simultaneously primitive and extraterrestrial.

Aguirre is a masterpiece amongst film zealots, and a peculiar vision, likely, to the mass public. This film was not made to entertain or to please others, but then again, that has never been Werner Herzog’s purpose or forte. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the entertainment power a film holds and when done well, it acts as a much needed social antidote to the stress of daily living - an important instrument. But more than that, I believe in the power of film to act as a mirror of the human condition, a window to look in to or gaze out from the physical dimensions of our lives.

This the greatest show on earth, and it would be a shame to leave it running unrecorded.

I’m not going to go into details of the technical description of the film, plots, names, etc. Roger Ebert wrote a thorough and insightful review that leaves nothing more to be added in this respect. Aguirre is the third Herzog movie I saw, the other two being “Bad Lieutenant, Port of Call New Orleans” and “My son my son, what have ye done”, which left me in internal turmoil for a long time after seeing them at TIFF last month. I still can’t bring myself to write about them. No other director has left me in such agony before. No matter how the movie made me feel, I always understood it. By that I mean I saw it clearly, its intentions and desires, purpose and effect. I may react differently than its intended artistic vision, but at least I was always aware of what that vision was. Herzog left no such prints to be followed. His vision is that entirely of his own, and like the sighting of a rare animal, we stagger along, curious and careful, trying to catch a glimpse of the beauty of its sheer existence, inexplicably moved in our pursuit.

The man reminds me of a rare bird near extinction for reasons I can hardly comprehend. Except he is said to walk so much, maybe an earthly creature is more suitable? But his ideas are so grandiose and his visions so lofty, that somehow only the freedom of the sky seems an appropriate canvas for the paths of his explorations.

In Aguirre, Herzog ventures into the Peruvian amazon in 1560, where an expedition sets out in search of El Dorado, the fabled city of gold. Such a story would naturally be about survival, except Herzog doesn’t seem to even bother with that. He factors it into the plot of the story: they make rafts when they need to, they eat when they are hungry, they fight back when attacked. But all these are done with an air of almost bothersomeness, as if they are only necessary to allow the men to carry on the path of rightousness to fulfill their personal legend. And yes, the plot does pale in comparison to the obsession that pulls the entire film along like a dark twisted rope, a siren’s call from sea. Aguirre, a volatile man with little regard for the value of human lives, instigates a coup and takes charge of a small group of about 20 men and two women. Along with them is a priest holding the holy book. Together Aguirre believes that they are destined to find the fabled city of gold and he will with his daughter found the purest empire under the sun. Obsession mixed with delusion and the lure of power make a potent liquor of blind courage and sheer madness.

Aguirre stands above a flat raft roughly built from sticks of logs. He stalks amongst the men on the raft at a slow and deliberate pace, like a wolf declaring his authority amongst his pack, as they drift, drift down the Amazon river, across lands that they don’t know, heading into a horizon that they’ve never seen. Yet they blindly drift forward, convinced that a kingdom of glory awaits at its end. Except the river never ends….and so they drift on, and on, and on, into the heart of their own dark, dark obsession of wealth.

Money, the root of all evil.

Too bad it’s so fragile and volatile an item – it’s printed on paper, which can be destroyed in a number of ways by an endless number of elements. Its different forms require exchanges when travelling from one destination to another. It can devalue overnight. It carries no meaning of its own, and can only be used when in possession of it. It is easily recognizable and therefore always a target for theft. We guard it when we use it. We guard it when we don’t use it. We guard it all the time. And then when they are gone we want more.

Gold, the most ancient currency of wealth, is not as fragile, but equally seductive. In fact it takes on an almost mythical quality, its lustre said to be protective in many legends. People wear it as jewellery, as symbols of their status and happiness. Alchemists tried to convert metals into gold. No one told them that nothing in the world is free. If it is what would be the point of living?

But I digress. Aguirre was not wholly after wealth. He believed he was destined to be more than he was, which was a mere man. He believed that he was destined to be god of his own empire. How he came to this notion is not known, but it does not matter, for his madness, once alive, is a self-perpetuating virus that spread like a plague, swallowing up not only him, but all those around him. They were not as mad as him though, and toward the end of their lives they started to slip back into reality. By then it was too late, the river does not flow backwards, and men must heed the consequences of their actions.

The last shot of the film…with Aguirre stalking the raft still, alone, half crippled, amidst a swarm of wild monkies and dead bodies, while the camera swivels around and around, taking it all in from every angle, and we see truly how alone this man is, and how deeply into the abyss of insanity he has sunk, and how far the river stretches, and how unflenching nature is, and how still time is, and how despairing humanity can be, and we can’t help but be moved. And finally, we start to understand why.

Perhaps more than money, the wrath of men is truly the root of all evil. Our human impulse to be more than that we are is the current in the ocean of the universe, and our lives are little boats sailing through it, and just as the water forms us, feeds us, cleanse us…it also bury us. Our lives lie in the hands of our own wrath, and yet we can not control the wrath that consumes us.

Am vrut să OCR-izez şi să postez, în serial, câteva capitole din cartea lui Klaus Kinski. Am renunţat. Postez mai jos, în PDF, tot textul (de fapt un fragment din carte.).
Pentru cine nu a citit încă, se citeşte mai întâi Nebuni în junglă.
Eu, idol şi serv – Klaus Kinski – textul integral

Toate posturile Klaus Kinski

i’m not predjudice, but there’s just something shady about grown-ass men with pony tails and strong arian features who not only mark a striking resemblance to klaus kinski, but also share the name of a biographical character he played about a murderous tyrant.

This looks damn good.

I’m a longtime fan of Werner Herzog, and therefore of Klaus Kinski, as the two are inseparable in many ways. Jesus Christus Erlöser will make a nice companion to the excellent Mein liebster Feind: Klaus Kinski (My Best Fiend: Klaus Kinski).

From the official movie site:

Berlin, Deutschlandhalle, November 20th, 1971. Kinski emerges into a lone spotlight on an empty stage. Shoulder length hair, plain jeans, a shirt with flower and polka dot patterns. No set, no stage effects, no costume. By reciting his own version of the New Testament’s “Jesus Christ Saviour,” he realizes a project well over 10 years in the making.

From Kinski spricht aus der Amerikaballade und der Dichtung afrikanischer Völker.

Some additonal excerpts here.

JESUS CHRISTUS ERLÖSER, Klaus Kinskis irre Jesus-Predigt, ist jetzt auf DVD erschienen. Schade, dass wir heute keine so irren Schauspieler-Persönlichkeiten mehr haben.

Wer heutzutage Interviews mit Schauspielern macht, hört immer die gleichen aalglatten pseudoprofessionellen Antworten auf die Fragen: Wie toll das Drehbuch schon beim Lesen war und wie schön es war, mit all den netten Kollegen am Film zu arbeiten usw. Klaus Kinski war da anders. Auf die Frage, ob ihm das Drehbuch so gut gefiel, dass er diesen oder jenen Film drehte, brüllte er nur: „Was? Ich lese nie ein Drehbuch!“ Und in diesem Stil ging das Interview weiter voller Überraschungen, denn er wusste: Ihr Medienleute braucht Futter und ich stopfe es euch in die Fresse bis ihr kotzt!
Am 20. November 1971 sorgte Kinski für einen ganz besonderen Skandal, als er in der Berliner Deutschlandhalle mit seinem Programm JESUS CHRISTUS ERLÖSER auftrat. Er hatte sich inspiriert vom damaligen Zeitgeist lange Haare wachsen lassen und beschloss, die Jesus-Figur so revolutionär zu interpretieren, wie das die rebellische Jugend gegen Ende der 1960er Jahre tat. Lange Haare provozierten die auf Kurzhaarschnitt geprägte Eltern-Generation und die Kids beriefen sich auf den langhaarigen Jesus, wie das in einem Song aus dem Musical Hair aus dem Jahr 1968 verewigt ist. Es wurde damals auch Mode, Jesus als revolutionären Kämpfer für die Armen und Entrechteten gegen die Reichen und Mächtigen zu interpretieren. Und genau das tat auch Kinski bei seinem Auftritt am 20. November 1971 in Berlin. Charismatisch, arrogant, größenwahnsinnig trat er dem Publikum gegenüber und schrie seine religiösen Provokationen ins Mikrofon. Doch die vom rebellischen Zeitgeist der 1968er-Studenten gelockerten Zuschauer wollten sich Kinskis Jesus-Predigt nicht gefallen lassen. Jemand schrie: „Der hat doch mit seinen Filmen Millionen verdient“, als der durch die Wallace-Kriminalfilme und Italo-Western der 1960er Jahre zum Superstar aufgestiegene Kinski über Hunger und Armut philosophierte. Ein junger Mann stürmte die Bühne und rief ins Mikrofon: „Jesus war demütig“ – und meinte damit: Im Gegensatz zum größenwahnsinnigen Klaus Kinski. Darauf schrie Kinski: „Jesus war nicht demütig, er hat die Peitsche genommen und sie dir in die Fresse gehauen!“
Als ein Saalordner einen Zuschauer wegstieß, der die Bühne stürmte, brach der Tumult los und jemand schrie: „Kinski ist ein Faschist!“
Dabei wollte Klaus Kinski Superstar den Menschen nur auf seine Art den Revolutionär Jesus Christus nahe bringen. Doch die kleinen Leute im Publikum, die keine reichen Filmstars waren, glaubten ihm nicht und am Ende konnte der verzweifelte Kinski nur noch brüllen: „Was weißt du von Gott, du blöde Sau?“
GOTTFRIED DISTL

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Todo pintaba fenomenal, el sábado a mediodía el papel en los puntos de venta anticipada estaba agotado, con una sonrisa en la cara nos dispusimos a disfrutar de la ciudad hasta la hora del concierto, porque para alguien de provincias como yo, ir a la capital provoca el mismo revoloteo de mariposas que ir al Corte Inglés para los que no lo tienen en su localidad.
Después de algún que otro incidente en el metro (ese invento del diablo) llegamos a la sala Neu, con ganas de ternura, ciencia ficción y ruido, mucho ruido. En la sala ya medio llena reconocimos a varias caras “famosas” de la independencia patria, la preciosa Teresa single Iturrioz y el prestidigitador Ibon Errazkin, por ejemplo. Y en un plis aparecieron en el escenario Antonio Galvañ y los suyos, Parade, dispuestos a presentar su nuevo trabajo “La fortaleza de la soledad”.
Pero me parece que nos quedamos con ganas de más, de mucho más, el concierto se me hizo muy corto, más si cabe con el ilimitado número de himnos clásicos que querría haber escuchado y que no sonaron. El repertorio principalmente lo formaron unos pocos temas del último trabajo como “Stephen Hawkins”, o “Proyecto Genoma”, alguno más del anterior álbum “Todas las estrellas” que creo fueron los mejor recibidos por el respetable y nos hicieron por momentos volar como en la “Estación Espacial” enlazada con la fábula fabulosa “Flora Rostrobruno”. También sonaron “Cuando besó a la cosa del pantano” y algún tema más antiguo junto al menos un par de versiones. Lo bonito, o bueno, algo de lo más interesante de los conciertos de Parade son los nuevos arreglos con los que viste las canciones que nos sabemos de memoria los seguidores de esta estrella errante, y esta vez no fue la excepción.
El pequeño set finalizó con la versión de Dinarama “Carne, huesos y tú” y con la sensación de querer más, mucho más (¿donde se quedaron don Ricardo y Soledad?).

Acto seguido cambio de tercio y los murcianos K&K aparecieron en el escenarios dispuestos a reconquistar la plaza. Hacía ya un año que habían tocado en Madrid y volvían con un repertorio bastante parecido pero que ahora ya nos sabemos de memoria.
Antes de nada me gustaría hacer una reflexión acerca de la actitud (que no aptitud) de la independencia española: Desde los tiempos del noise pop por ejemplo, la mayoría de grupos nacionales adolecen de una falta de actitud y estilismo digna de comentario, para mi algo fundamental. Un grupo no solo entra por los oídos sino también por los ojos, “no se puede” ir de grupo de estudiantes modélicos que pasan las tardes- noches de los fines de semana resolviendo ecuaciones o jugando al Cluedo o lo que es peor, al rol. Pero bueno, esto es un mal endémico, casi pandémico de la independencia porque ya desde mis amadísimos Penélope Trip, la imagen sigue echándose en falta.
Ya en lo estrictamente musical el concierto estuvo correcto, gana mucho en los momentos más ruidosos y guitarreros, se ganaron el calor del público y el nuestro con el Cristo del Perdón, Crucifixión la solución,… es decir todos esos himnos que tienen que ser la base del que yo creo que debe ser uno de los grupos abanderados del futuro del pop en los próximos años. Bailamos moviendo las cabezas y “mirándonos los pies” que es lo que se supone que debíamos hacer, pero a la vista de las nuevas composiciones que también las hubo, hay que trabajar más, porque yo quiero que sean Los Planetas del próximo decenio.
Por cierto, bailé como una locaza con el himno generacional de los treintañeros, “el ritmo de la noche”.

Am inceput ceva nou: fragmente din cartea autobiografică a lui Klaus Kinski – Eu, idol şi serv – găsite intr-un numar de Secolul 20. Postarile ar fi prea lungi, pentru că nu pot fragmenta capitolele. Din acest motiv le pun pe o pagina noua.

Un milion de mărci

— Faţă de ăsta Rolling-Stones sînt nişte bieţi copilaşi, o grădiniţă !
— Nimeni nu şi-a permis încă asta cu noi !
— Prea întinde coarda !
Se referă la mine. Cît despre mine, vorbesc din Noul Testament:
— Este căutat Isus Hristos. Acuzat de furt, seducere de minore, blasfemie, profanarea bisericilor, injurierea autorităţilor, încălcarea legilor, rezistenţă împotriva puterii de stat, prieteşug cu tîrfe şi borfaşi. . .
În această clipă, cineva irumpe cu mare zgomot din spaţiul rezervat spectatorilor.

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