Trying out the “Van Gogh” method of drawing I mentioned yesterday (using no shading but that of closely drawn lines), I found that I didn’t know how to do it; for example, should all the shading lines point the same way?  It will be easy enough to find out and not worth mentioning perhaps, except that it illustrates a problem faced by the self-taught in all fields; that of patches of deep ignorance in technique.

I remember Rolf Harris explaining to an amateur painter on TV about reflections in water, how a tree’s reflection, for example, goes straight “down” rather than “across” the surface.  This painter was working outdoors, with the scene in front of him and yet he’d not noticed this.  I suppose it goes some way to explaining that apparent inability of many Renaissance artists to do a good infant, that I was writing about the other day.  There must be something in the way the brain processes the information that’s in front of the eyes, that refuses to register the “truth”.

Some interesting stuff in Daniel Farson’s book on Bacon, “The Gilded Gutter Life of FB”; Bacon “believed (that Picasso’s Guernica) reeked of propaganda”.  Also, the opening scenes of “Last Tango in Paris” were based on Bacon’s work (haven’t seen it, so can’t comment) and also Hannibal Lecter’s cage in “Silence of the Lambs”.

Last night’s painting has now acquired a lot of white “strapping” around the black areas and some Prussian blue and black additions that look like an anvil poking up towards the top left hand corner- or maybe an electric hand drill.  The trouble is, if you leave it around it grows familiar and, far from breeding contempt, it seems to gain credibility, or integrity – to me, anyway. 

Watched the Ballets Russes programme on TV; that incredible end to “L’apres midi d’un Faune”, where the faun appears to masturbate on the scarf of the departed nymph – or to “achieve climax”, as one old dancer put it.  Now I understand why audiences found it shocking.

Listening to: ”Tonight at Noon” by Charles Mingus – now there’s a great title; I think I’ll nick it for a picture.

Blackpaint

11.12.09

“I am the Dragon. And you call me insane. You are privy to a great becoming, but you recognize nothing. To me, you are a slug in the sun. You are an ant in the afterbirth. It is your nature to do one thing correctly. Before me, you rightly tremble. But, fear is not what you owe me. You owe me awe.”

Red Dragon, the third and final film in the Hannibal series that is worth rewatching. Again, the writing, characters, acting and sets are magnificent. The direction could use a little work, but if you told me, “the guy who did Rush Hour and Xmen 3 is making the film of Red Dragon I would have slaughtered families. But no, he did a lot better than could be expected based on his other films. Rush Hour is fine, amusing, but it really doesn’t cut the mustard.

Anyway, despite the fact that I had previously felt it was my favourite, I’d say it is maybe the weakest of the trilogy (I’m not meaning to be insulting to Hannibal Rising, but it’s not worth including. Also, I’m not meaning to say that I don’t insult it, I’m just not doing so now.) The character of Francis is amazing, very well done by Ralph Fiennes, as usual. Same with Graham, I think he is a great character and Edward Norton does a really good job. Anthony Hopkins doesn’t need to be mentioned since he and Hannibal are really in another league, though in this film I can see the direction on him.

So, in hindsight, I’d say that Silence of the Lambs is definitely the best made, with probably the best Hopkins performance of the three. I still really adore a great deal of Hannibal, with only a few moments that aren’t dealt with well, plus some of my dislikes for the story which I don’t think can be avoided. I’d put it in a close second after Silence, only put back by some weak filmic techniques. Red Dragon comes in at a very memorable third, it is still a great film, but the book is not completely translated to the film. The feel is not there and while Ratner didn’t do a bad job, I would put some blame on the direction.

Anyway, all are great films, very worth a watch, very worth a read. Read and watch Hannibal Rising just because you should, but do not let it ruin the others for you.

Não preciso de comentários, sério, é um abuso!

E ele em Hannibal que PQP.

Zanim powstało “Milczenie Owiec” Hannibal Leckter już zabijał – taką prawdę głosi tagline na okładce polskiego wydania DVD Łowcy w reżyserii Michaela Manna. Cóż, ja też lubię sobie pofantazjować, zwłaszcza gdy trzeba przyciągnąć lud na zakupy. Tymczasem film, który udało mi się po raz pierwszy obejrzeć w domowym zaciszu okazał się być czymś innym, znacznie lepszym niż oczekiwałem – do bólu dowalonym do pieca thrillerem kryminalnym, jednym z lepszych w ogóle.

Mann z żelazną dla siebie konsekwencją prezentuje historię Willa Grahama – funkcjonariusza specjalizującego się w poszukiwaniach psychopatów, morderców i innych przedstawicieli marginesu społecznego. W odróżnieniu od innych Graham posiada niezwykłą zdolność wczucia się w psychikę przestępcy i znalezienia tym samym właściwego tropu dla śledztwa. No co tu dodać, po prostu genialny pomysł. Jako, że człowiek jest w centrum uwagi nie można pominąć książkowej ekspozycji charakterów. Mann tradycyjnie nakazuje swoim bohaterom dokonać wyboru. W Manhunterze Graham kroczy między lojalnością wobec rodziny, a chęcią oczyszczenia się z traumy po schwytaniu Hannibala Lecktora (bo tak brzmi nazwisko sławetnego kanibala z późniejszych filmów). Ów dylemat wypisany jest na twarzy bohatera bardzo wyraźnie. Z jednej strony pałą chęcią dopadnięcia sprawcy, z drugiej widać u niego zmęczenie i nie do końca wyleczoną przypadłość.

Obraz Manna zapoczątkował serię związaną z Lecterem. Tu jednak jest to postać drugoplanowa, mało widoczna, choć w ostatecznym rozrachunku ważna dla fabuły. Wszak to on pomaga Grahamowi rozwikłać zagadkę seryjnych mordów. Ciekawostką jest fakt, że scenariusz filmu nie do końca zrzuca obowiązek ciągnięcia intrygi na barki głównego bohatera. Reżyser  dość zgrabnie rozdaje elementy fabularne między kolejnymi postaciami, doprawia, buduję mroczną atmosferę śledztwa, a w połowie…obnaża głównego złego. Żadna to tajemnica, bardziej sensacja. Zwłaszcza, że o psycholu Mann potrafi coś sensownego opowiedzieć, a nie tylko odwalić symboliczne “To on zabijał” w finale.

Manhunter to również kultowa stylistyka lat 80. połączona z maestrią realizacyjną twórcy późniejszej Gorączki. Świetnym ujęciom (często niestandardowym jak na tamte czasy) towarzyszy elektroniczny ambient autorstwa Michela Rubiniego, wprowadzający niezwykle mroczną aurę w wydarzenia na ekranie. Mann zadbał również o odpowiednie nasycenie barw w zdjęciach nocnych, które potrafią nawet dziś robić świetne wrażenie. Jeżeli dodam, że za kamerą stanął doświadczony Dante Spinotii to już wiecie czego należy się spodziewać.

Podsumowując, Łowca to świetny film. Wciągający, mroczny, z dużą liczbą genialnych, pojedynczych ujęć. Z doskonałym Williamem Petersenem w roli Willa Grahama (niestety dopadł go syndrom Michaela Biehna) i całkiem przejmującym Brianem Coxem w skórze Lecktora. Gęsty klimat, nieszablonowość – to cenię w filmie Manna najbardziej. Gorąco polecam.

P.S. W Polsce film znany jest jako “Czerwony smok”, który to tytuł koliduje z rimejkiem Manhuntera z 2002 roku w reżyserii Bretta Ratnera. Dlatego używam oryginalnego przekładu.

Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

((Fictional character from the novels Red Dragon, The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, and Hannibal Rising by Thomas Harris. Also in the movies Manhunter (Brian Cox), Red Dragon, The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal (Anthony Hopkins),  and Hannibal Rising (Gaspard Ulliel)

Born: January 20, 1933
Aliases: Lloyd Wyman, Dr. Fell, Mr. Closter
Nicknames: Hannibal the Cannibal, The Chesapeake Ripper
# of Victims: 29+

Hannibal starts killing due to a traumatic experience during his teen years. During a war where he lived, he and his sister, Mischa, were captured by fleeing criminals. When the criminals had nothing left to eat, they decided that it was a good idea to eat Mischa, because she was smaller and weaker than Hannibal. They did so, leaving Hannibal traumatized. Later in life, he went on a hunt for the men who ate his sister, finding them, killing them, and filleting their cheeks. After this was over, he just couldn’t stop killing. What started as revenge had become an addiction for him, and he couldn’t stop eating human flesh.

Hannibal is known for his extremely violent physical and emotional torture methods, and he is very big into piquerism and cannibalism, like Albert Fish.

Hannibal Lecter: “First principles, Clarice. Simplicity. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek?”
Clarice Starling: “He kills women…”
Hannibal Lecter: “No. That is incidental. What is the first and principal thing he does? What needs does he serve by killing?”
Clarice Starling: “Anger, um, social acceptance, and, huh, sexual frustrations, sir…”
Hannibal Lecter: “No! He covets. That is his nature. And how do we begin to covet, Clarice? Do we seek out things to covet? Make an effort to answer now.”
Clarice Starling: “No. We just…”
Hannibal Lecter: “No. We begin by coveting what we see every day.”

WARNING – VIDEO MAY NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR PEOPLE UNDER THE AGE OF 13

Ein Männlein steht im Walde -

German
Ein Männlein steht im Walde ganz still und stumm,
Es hat von lauter Purpur ein Mäntlein um.
Sagt, wer mag das Männlein sein,
Das da steht im Wald allein
Mit dem purpurroten Mäntelein.

The little man stands on only one leg,
And has a little black cap on his head,
Tell me, who may be the little man,
Who stands in the woods all alone
With his little black cap.

Let’s take this blog in a different direction today, and talk about something violent and entertaining and the erotic and angry reactions it stirs in me. This might come as a surprise to many of you, but I have a tendency toward obsessive behavior. This week’s fixation is Hannibal Lecter. Although I was exposed to Red Dragon, I didn’t see The Silence of the Lambs until adulthood. As a child, I wasn’t permitted to choose movies at the rental place. (Probably a good idea. I might’ve turned out a bit strange.) So I’m using my golden years – and Netflix – to systematically view the films I coveted.

Anyway, back to the good doctor… I don’t think I have to explain to any red-blooded, all-American female psychopath why Lecter is the perfect sex symbol. I recommend that every man strive to fill his shoes, to the extent that it is possible. Ask my husband. He’s fucking crazy and it worked for him.

What pisses me off is the perfection of Lambs and the inadequacy of Hannibal and Red Dragon. (Hannibal Rising does not count, and I don’t have to tell you why.) We’ll set aside the fact that they deviate from the literature, because everyone hates that thinky shit. It’s more about the continuity of character, preservation of the tone, and respect for the material. And, ultimately, it’s about not sending me to the brink of going-to-fucking-kill-you-bitch and forcing me to mail decapitated, semen-filled rodents to your home every three days, Ridley Scott. Think before you act, asshole.

Usually, I do not approve of cast changes, but I was looking forward to seeing Julianne Moore because she’s above Jodie in hair, lips and eyes… although far more anorexic. Little did I know she was going to play the role like a goddamn pine board. Where’s the emotional connection? The shit in Lambs is not the kind of thing you just forget about. It’s vibrator fodder for the rest of your fucking life. Foster would have been dripping down her thigh, trembling and sleepless at the sound of Lecter’s voice, not demanding to know whether or not he’d just killed some greasy cop. Fail.

What the fuck was Ray Liotta doing in this movie? Cocksucker brought nothing to the table. Ditto for Cordell. I thought Mason’s huge dyke sister was supposed to milk his prostate with a Taser. (Literary reference. Shut the fuck up. I make the rules.) Ray’s brain, while aesthetically pleasing, is not terribly sexy. And the pigeons? Overdone. Ridley needs to be raped in the eye socket until he understands that a pretty film is not necessarily a good film.

Dragon also fails, but not for the same reasons. I felt that the casting was spot-on and the roles well-executed. The filming was great. But it’s a total sausage-fest. Miggs doesn’t get to smell anyone’s cunt and that’s really not fair to him, is it? However, the movie wins in other ways. Like at the beginning. I’ve never wanted to be stabbed in the gut so badly in my entire life. Have you? Of course not.

The only uniting excellence of the series is Hopkins. And I have deduced from this perfection that Anthony is actually one of Hannibal’s aliases and that the gentleman cannibal has infiltrated Hollywood to collaborate on documentaries based on books based on what he does between films, which is to eat women. And not in the way you do.

The point here is that a series should capture the essence of the original, if not in look then in feel. You don’t respond to a grotesque mind fuck with a vapid laser show. Especially not when the fans of the original are more than ready to choke you with your own scrotum. And believe me, I am.

This is a big question to chew on — a matter of violating one of the greatest taboos vs. your acutely honed survival instinct. But there may be some other factors you’ve never considered, and we discuss below.

Reasons a human hamburger could be tasty goodness.
* In 1931, New York Times reporter and occultist William Buehler Seabrook obtained a hunk of human meat from a hospital intern and cooked it up. He reported it was like “fully developed veal … mild good meat.”

* Cannibalism promotes a green lifestyle — that dead guy over there is the ultimate in sustainable food. What, do you hate the environment or something? Jerk.

* Being forced to chow down on people would permanently cure most picky eaters of their aversion to things like sea urchin, snails and blood pudding.

Reasons to hold off as long as possible before tasting the flesh of your own kind.
* Cannibalism trumps all other achievements and inevitably becomes the most interesting thing about a person. Even if a cannibal went on to do something more unique, like cure cancer, the story would still read “and cancer was cured by Dr. So-and-so, noted cannibal.”

* Since human flesh would be the first sustenance the situational cannibal had had in some time, it is likely he’d come away with an intense taste for it. Years later, when the one-time cannibal’s stomach growled at night, he’d sneak over to the computer and start searching German S&M chat rooms in hopes of finding someone who would allow him to eat a chunk of their rump or thigh.

* Ironically, intra-species munching always carries a risk of catching a flesh-eating virus.

How (and How Not) to Do it:
An Open Letter to the Next Generation of Filmmakers.

By Ray Carney.

Carney is professor of Film and American Studies, and head of the Film Studies Program at Boston University, as well as author of more than ten books, including the critically acclaimed The Films of John Cassavetes and The Films of Mike Leigh, both published by Cambridge University Press. (Check out the Website http://www.cassavetes.com for further essays, articles, interviews, publication updates, etc.) The following ten “anti-rules” of filmmaking from Carney run counter to almost every conventionally held belief regarding the “correct” way to make movies. When I recently met Belgian film critic Alfons Engelen, another proponent of creativity in filmmaking, he reminded me that Carney wasn’t alone in his approach. “Cinema is only one hundred years old. So only a dozen letters of the film alphabet are known,” said Engelen while we awaited the next screening at Figueira da Foz International Film Festival in Portugal. “Therefore, look for something new, never done before. As a filmmaker, cameraman, actor or actress, editor, make something new, never done before… fresh.”

In response to several interviews I have given attacking Hollywood filmmaking, a number of readers have asked me if I could provide a more positive statement. In a word, now that I’ve hatched-murdered the studios, could I offer a few rules on how to do it right? I hesitated at first, since as far as I am concerned, rules are the problem with most of the movies we now see. The shortcomings of Hollywood is that its confections are whipped up from recipes (you know: a dash of romance blended into a cup of suspense with a dollop of social relevance thrown on top to create the perfect post-dinner entertainment). I had no desire to offer my services as a French pastry-chef of independent cinema. Real art is not created from formulas. No matter how fancy the name we give them (“story structure,” “creating a character,” the “three-act screenplay”), rules and formulas are ways of avoiding what art is really about. That’s why I initially thought a how-to-do-it essay was a bad idea, but after mulling it over, I decided that maybe there was something worth saying. So, for anyone who is interested, I hereby offer ten anti-rule rules.

1. Accept no imitations.

Imitate no one and nothing. I teach university film courses. Most of them are devoted to screening and discussing cinematic masterworks: Renoir’s Rules of the Game, Dreyer’s Ordet, Ozu’s Tokyo Story, De Sica’s Bicycle Thief, Rosellini’s Voyage in Italy. But sometimes I wonder if seeing these films doesn’t do more harm than good to the young filmmakers who are my students. The problem is that too many of them seem to take the wrong lesson away from the courses. They think I show them classics so that they can go off and make movies that look like the ones I screen. They think I want them to weave spaces and bodies together the way Renoir does in Rules of the Game, or to keep looking around and behind their characters, through windows, into doorways, and around corners, the way De Sica does in Bicycle Thief, or to slow events down, silence the characters, and induce meditative states the way Ozu does in Tokyo Story. The right lesson, of course, is precisely the opposite one. I show masterpieces not to persuade students to look like these movies, but to inspire them to dare to look utterly and completely like themselves. That’s the lesson all great art teaches us. De Sica, Dreyer, Renoir, and Ozu didn’t get to be great artists by imitating someone else, by making movies that resembled the ones they had seen, but by being brave enough to break all of the then-established rules in order to express their own distinctive, unique, personal visions of life. They teach us the value not of imitation, but of resisting influences, even their own. And they teach us how hard it is to do that – how hard it is to create a style that will be true to our own vision of life, and how bizarre and idiosyncratic such a style will always look (at least at first blush). Audiences jeered these masterworks when they were first screened.

2. Film what you really are.

One of the reasons Hollywood films can get away with being so fraudulent is that most of them are set on a fantasy island populated with characters who bear no resemblance to anyone who ever lived on planet Earth. Dare to make a movie about yourself. It doesn’t, of course, have to be true to the superficial details of your life (thought that wouldn’t hurt), but at least make it deeply true to your honest feelings and beliefs, your genuine doubts and uncertainties, your actual interests and fears. Dare to film what you really are, what you really feel, what you really see around you. Don’t be afraid of being too personal. Your most private emotions, most secret puzzlements, most idiosyncratic obsessions are the only legitimate subject of your art. That’s another lesson the masterworks teach us.

A further reason to hold tight to your actual experiences and feelings to avoid the clichés that lurk everywhere waiting to entrap you and your characters. As soon as you take one step away from your actual life, your work is in danger of turning into a cartoon or a soap opera. It’s easy for Spielberg to slide into sentimental pieties when he presents what other people, in another country, felt and suffered fifty years ago. What would keep him honest would be to show what he himself actually feels like when he goes to lunch to close a big deal, or how he treats his wife and children that evening if it falls through. The Hemmingway-parented bullshit detector is that much more sensitive if your characters and situations are close to your own life. It’s just too easy to fool yourself, to cheat of exaggerate for effect, if your movie takes place in a galaxy far away. Make sure there is no “them” in your movie. It should be all “you.” Make sure you are as kind to your characters (or as hard on them) as you would be on yourself. Make sure they are as interesting and complex (and self-justifyingly self-deluded) as you are. Let them never think they are doing anything wrong, just as you never do.

A corollary is that your characters should be at least as intelligent and self-aware as you are. Half the movies in Hollywood would evaporate if a character simply asked himself why he is behaving in such an idiotic way. Every character ever played by Schwarzenegger or Stallone would stop dead in his tracks and sign up for counseling if he were allowed to have one second of normal self-awareness. Why am I lugging this bazooka around anyway? Why do I feel such anger towards everyone? What did my parents do to me to make me feel this way? These are, of course, Neanderthal examples. But why do characters even in movies by allegedly highbrow directors (Woody Allen, Mike Nichols, Steven Soderbergh) invariably understand less about themselves and their true situations than the audience does? Why are they all so limited? It’s time we had a few characters who were smarter, more sensitive, more morally complex than the average viewer is. Why do we need movies that make us feel superior? It’s time we had a few characters who humble or chasten us, who don’t yield to trashy journalistic understandings of what makes us tick. Look at Rossellini’s General Della Rovere or Dreyer’s Gertrud for illustrations.

3. Film what you don’t know.

Does not contradict the preceding: though if it did, it wouldn’t really make any difference. I only mean that there is no point in writing, casting, directing, and editing a film if you know in advance where you are going to come out, how you feel about your characters and events, and what it all means. If you can storyboard your film, save your time (and that of your actors and crew), skip the shooting, and publish the storyboard. There is no need to make the movie. If you don’t learn anything, no one else will either. If you don’t change your feelings about your characters and events as you go along, your audience won’t either. If your mind isn’t twisted into pretzels, theirs won’t be either. If your heart isn’t torn and conflicted by the situations your characters are in, you haven’t created complicated enough situations. You’ve reduced life to the “lite” experiences televisions or the newspapers give us.

Your movie should help viewers see things about their lives that they didn’t realize before they went into it. Of course, learning something, because forced out of your mental and emotional ruts, is precisely what never happens in Hollywood films. Movies like Pulp Fiction, L.A.Confidential, and Wild Things represent a button-pushing sense of art where the only goal is to force the viewer to jump through a set of pre-programmed emotional hoops. Art becomes a game of emotional tiddlywinks where you’re judged not on whether anybody actually got anything valuable out of the whole experience, but on finesse points – on how well you keep the nonsense moving right along. The director and producers decide what points they are going to make before they begin. They cast, shoot, and edit the movie so as to be sure to make them. They audience goes in and “gets” them. Then the critics come along and assign marks for how well they did it all. The reviews of these movies remind me of the chestnut about the comedian’s convention: A comedian calls out number 43 and everybody laughs. Another gets up and calls out number 12; there is even louder laughter. A third calls out number 37; nobody laughs. Explanation: Some people just don’t know how to tell a joke.

There experiences in these films are canned. Nobody involved in them – from the writer and director to the actors and editors – actually learn anything new. No one changes his mind. No one is forced out of his or her old patterns of understanding. They are vast emotional recycling operations. You put clichés in; you get clichés out. The only sermons the director or his viewers stumble on are the one’s he’s already cleverly hidden under his own stones when he began. It’s the difference between the way Picasso painted and filling in the outlines in a colouring book.

That’s not art. That’s not even good conversation. All valuable acts of expression are acts of exploration. (Even a minor one like writing this piece. Why would I waste my time doing if if I already knew in advance where my argument would take me?) Film the parts of your life you don’t understand in order to try to understand them. Film the aspects of your dealings with others where you don’t know what went wrong (or whether anything went wrong). Use film to blaze a trail through the emotional jungle we all live in. Consciousness cannot precede expression. Every movie Tarkovsky and Cassavetes ever made was an attempt to understand a part of their experience that they didn’t understand before they began it. Along with spoken language, art is one of the greatest inventions in the history of the Universe for discovering the meaning of our lives, our times, our culture.

A corollary: Dare to fail – abysmally on occasion. If you function as a genuine explorer, you can never know in advance where you’ll come out (or if you’ll come out anywhere valuable). It’s always safer to cook from a recipe, and always risky to throw the book away, but that is the only way you’ll ever make anything new. Like any other mass-produced product, if Hollywood films never rise above a certain average level of achievement, by the same virtue they never fall very far below it either. With a non-standardised approach, nothing is guaranteed. Your film may be a disaster. It may not work out. But that is the case with all truly creative experiments – Charlie Parker’s solos, Paul Taylor’s dances, Einstein’s late theorems. Working the way a documentary filmmaker does, discovering your purpose and meanings as you go along, necessarily means performing without a safety net. But the greatest art is always made by taking the greatest chances. The road not taken is the only path along which real discoveries can be made (which is why imitating yourself is as deadly as imitating someone else).

4. A movie should be at least as strange as life.

I don’t know about everyone elses experiences, but the emotional lives of myself and the people I know are stranger and more complex than anything I’ve ever seen in Hollywood films. Their characters are too logical, knowing, and articulate by half. They have clear motives and intentions and act in accordance with them. If they have problems, they know what they are, and have game plans for dealing with them. They execute complex courses of action in pursuit of a definite goal. I don’t know anyone in life who is this clear about things – including myself. I don’t have intentions, motives, and goals in this way. I don’t know what I really want most of the time. I don’t understand my emotions. I don’t know why I do or feel most of the things I do. When I am in real emotional trouble, I am the last one to realize it. Having a real problem is not knowing you have it. (Think of your former boyfriend or girlfriend for confirmation of this.) I don’t have a road map for where I’m going. I usually don’t even know where I have gotten to until long after I have arrived. The people I know (including myself) are more mixed up, more contradictory in their behaviour, more changing in their feelings than characters ever are in the movies. Who of us is a character in the Hollywood way? (Dear reader, what is your character?) Even the most ordinary life is stranger and less rational than these movies assume.

When Hollywood wants to present a character who behaves less “normally,” it gives us a hockey masked slasher, has Jack Nicholson turn into the Joker or a Wolfman, or has Jim Carrey do one of his wild and crazy impersonations. But these characters separate the weirdness from everyday life too much. They make it seem too exceptional and rare and fleeting. They imagine our strangeness too externally and superficially. Our casual remarks cut more deeply than Freddy Krueger’s razor-fingers. The masks we wear are much scarier than Jason’s – and not removable. Our animal natures can be far more savage and unpredictable than a wolf’s. Our emotional lives are much spookier and more mysterious than anything in a John Carpenter movie. You can’t pound a stake through this aspect of experience. You can’t lock it up at the end of the movie. Everyone I have ever known – landlords, bosses, businessmen, parents, lovers, and friends – has an interior life that is knottier and more out of control than Hannibal Lecter’s. Capture some of the real strangeness of our emotional lives. If you don’t think it can be done, look at a tape of Cassavetes’s Faces or Tom Noonan’s The Wife. The kinks and twists in their characters’ psyche put a horror movie’s to shame.

5. Leave the ‘toons to Disney.

It’s a truism that most American feature films and the performances in them are indistinguishable from cartoons. But the problem is deeper than our cultural infatuation with superheros or the cults that have grown up around Robert DeNiro’s or Sharon Stone’s cartoon versions of acting. Even most so-called serious movies (from Easy Rider to Thelma & Louise, Malcolm X, and Schindler’s List) are dumbed down to the level of comic books. Characters are generic; situations are archetypal and representative; and the morality is as black-and-white as a children’s book. The actors might as well wear signs around their necks telling us how we are supposed to interpret them. The audience is more or less told what to know and how to feel every step of the way.

American film needs to move beyond the Boy’s book and Harlequin romance stage. We need films where characters are not generalizations and stereotypes, but particular, prickly individuals. We need figures who are neither good nor bad, neither heroes nor villains, whose motives are impure and mixed. We need films where the drama is not premised on external conflicts, but on internal confusions and ambivalences. Why can’t we have movies about characters that viewers will not be able to figure out and situations they will not be able to make up their minds about? We need movies that go into the grey and fuzzy places – movies that capture the murky irresolution of life as it is actually lived. We need scenes that explore the in-between places of life, where there is no clear problem and no clear solution. We need scenes that are pitched at tonal in-between places, scenes that don’t allow the audience the luxury of figuring them out too easily or settling back into simple relationship to them. If you think it can’t be done, check out a competent stage production of any of Chekhov’s plays. He made a career of doing it.

6. Make adult movies.

Another way to put the preceding is to say that it’s time we recapture the “adult movie” category from the pornographers. There are enough movies for teenagers. It’s high time we had some genuine adult films – movies made by adults, about adults, for adults, where there is more on the character’s minds than getting laid or stoned or shot. One way to go about making adult movies would simply be to leave our everything that is there strictly to suck in teenage boys (the nudity, sex, car chases, tough-guy theatrics, shoot-outs, thriller plots) or girls (the lovey-dovey romance stuff, dating game comedy, mood-music melodrama, and soap operatics).

The standard reply is that a movie that lacks these sort of things wouldn’t be “entertaining” enough to sell tickets. But it’s a circular argument: what is being invoked to justify childish movies is a child’s definition of entertainment. We need to forget about being entertaining in this sense, and redefine entertainment to include sophisticated adult interests. Complex adult social interactions, the play of adult emotions, the difficulties of a difficult life are the most interesting things in the world with an adult perspective.

Our movies are too simple, too obvious, too easy, and ultimately too boring. An adult movie will necessarily be hard and challenging, just as all real adult relationships are. Kids may want things easy, but an adult knows that no important experience (or person) yields up its meanings casually or lightly, and that the more it resists you or forces you out of your habitual patterns, the more exciting and valuable it is. That’s as true in art as it is in life. Great works necessarily make demands on us; they test us; because they force us to enter into new states of awareness, new ways of knowing. You can’t experience a really great work of art in a relaxed or passive way. You can’t listen to Bach on your back. He forces you to answer his energies with your own. He rouses you to activity. That state of tension, engagement, and activity is not an accidental side-effect of a great work, but the very heart and soul of what all important art does.

The moral of the story is that there is no reason to apologise if a viewer has to see your movie two, three, or more times, or to struggle for months or years to work through it emotionally. I’ve seen Tarkovsky’s The Sacrifice and Stalker at least ten times each, and still can’t get comfortable with them, am still puzzled and mystified by aspects of them. That’s not what’s wrong with them, but what’s right – like the best, most challenging, exciting experiences and people we come up against in life. Even if it’s not true in aerobics, in art (as in life) “no pain, no gain” really is a reality. New experiences, fresh insights, new points of view are going to leave your emotional muscles a little sore at first. They’ll have you panting to keep up with them. It has to do with the way our brains are wired. Our emotions are inertial. Our hearts always rest on the last experience. Every genuinely new way of seeing and feeling is disorienting – because it does brain surgery on us.

Of course, given our channel-surfing, easy-listening culture, many people will still prefer Happy Meal movies. They may storm out of your film muttering about its incomprehensibility; but what if they do? You are better off without them. If people aren’t willing to exert themselves to the degree the work demands, they can’t have the experience you want them to have even if you physically chain them to their seats (or psychologically chain them by adding sex scenes, shoot-outs, and suspense). If they are determined to lie on their backs, they are not going to hear Bach anyhow. If you play Beethoven to the supermarket crowd, you succeed only in turning the Ninth Symphony into Muzak. You can’t make someone have an experience they aren’t ready to have. You can’t give someone an emotional gift they are not mature enough to receive. They may need to grow up some more, live a little more, or fall in love before they are ready for your film. And, of course, they may never be ready for it; but that is their loss, not yours. Don’t dumb it down in an attempt to reach everyone, or you will lose the very viewers you should most care about reaching.

7. Forget sets, props, locations, costumes.

Insides are where it’s at. Hollywood spends hundreds of millions of dollars every year getting the cars, furniture, haircuts, and period music right. Spielberg thinks nothing of constructing an entire city block or a country estate in order to re-create a past era. Unfortunately, in his obsession with the authenticity of objects and events, he overlooks the fact that the only thing that matters is emotional reality. The people who make these movies are clearly more comfortable dealing with props and costumes than feelings, which is why they will fuss over the most minute details of the sets, but don’t see the emotional fraudulence of the scenes that take place in them.

Take sex scenes as an example. I’ve seen hundreds of them in Hollywood movies, but I don’t think there has been even one where the woman was embarrassed by the size of shape of her breasts or hips or where the man was anxious about his ability to perform. I’ve seen scores of depictions of one-night stands, but I’ve never seen a single film where the two strangers express a profound sense of emptiness, regret, shame, or violation after making love. I shouldn’t even use the word love. There is lots of glycerin, lust, and infatuation in these movies of course, but where is the trust, admiration, devotion, self-sacrifice, or deep emotional vulnerability that constitutes real adult love.

What is true of romantic attraction is true of the other feelings in these works. They are cheap, plastic knockoffs of real emotions – with only the faintest, superficial resemblance to the actual ones. (It doesn’t take a Hamlet to make us realize that even reptilian emotions like anger and revenge are more complicated than the Hollywood versions of them – more tangled up in double- and triple-thinking.) The feelings in these films are as clichéd and unreal as the plots or the mood music on their soundtracks. The characters bear about as much resemblance to humans as computer animations do.

Ninety-nine percent of the American movies released in a given year simply recycle five or ten of these fake emotions over and over again – canned, condensed, instant anger, revenge, lust, fear, romance, and a few others. They are like well-worn counterfeit coins passed from hand to hand, from film to film, as promissory notes for the real thing. The very fact that we can assign these emotions names at all proves their fraudulence. Our emotional life never comes to us in such simple bundles. It can never be labeled like this (since it is not static, but a continuous flowing and melting transformation). Most of the feelings we have every day of our lives are utterly unnameable and indescribable. We aren’t even conscious of most of them.

All of this, needless to say, represents a great opportunity to independent filmmakers. The artist moves beyond the known world of clichés, exploring the emotional wildernesses that are not on our charts. He or she moves into the “here there be dragons” sections of our souls and maps the true emotional geography of the present, reporting back his or her findings for the benefit of the rest of us.

8. Plot – not.

One of the most limiting aspects of American films is that the plot is all that matters at virtually every stage of the process. Movies are pitched, scripted, and budgeted on the basis of the cleverness of their plots. In the directing and editing process, characterizations, emotional nuance, mood, and psychology are thrown to the winds to keep the plots zipping along from event to event. Filmmakers like Spielberg actually pride themselves on “telling a good story” in this children’s-book sense of the phrase. The great works of literature – Huckleberry Finn, Paradise Lost, Shakespeare’s plays – are not reducible to their plots; only hacks like O. Henry and Agatha Christie confused narrative art with “telling a good story” in Spielberg’s sense. No one ever sat through the classics of cinema for their plots. Who ever watched The Passion of Joan of Arc for its plot? Reduced to their plots, Ozu’s movies are hokey melodramas. Plot has almost nothing to do with a great film’s complex pleasures.

What capitalistic, materialistic myth have we enslaved ourselves to? Why do we think life is about achieving something or attaining a goal? Why do we think it’s about getting somewhere or doing something? Why do we make movies about actions and events? Whose life is reducible to its events? Whose soul can be summed up by its actions? What we are is infinitely more interesting than what we do. Dare to make a film that shows that people are more interesting than the trivial events taking place around them. Show how what we do to ourselves emotionally is more interesting than anything anyone else does to us. Dare to push the pause button on the narrative and let your actors actually interact with each other. This is different from merely turning them loose to chew up the scenery in the Meryl Streep, Harvey Keitel, or Nick Cage way. Interaction is subtle, nuanced, and responsive; not flamboyant, ostentatious, and scene-stealing. Dare to make a movie where everything is not all tied up narratively with pink ribbons in the final scenes. Why does everything have to be resolved and explained? Make a movie that is narratively inconclusive or open to different interpretations.

A strictly personal request: make a tragic film. America is the culture that invented the sitcom and the happy face, and we seem to have lost sight of the enormous expressive power – and truth – of tragedy. Tragedy has almost disappeared as a cinematic form in America. Suffering and loss reveals things about our hearts and souls that no happy ending ever can. In rewarding their central characters with money, power, fame, and success at their ends, our films tell us a lie about life. Why deny your own emotional experience – your endless frustrations and setbacks – this way? These films define life’s value too economically, too externally, too materialistically. In its deepest wellsprings, life is not about attaining rewards (or punishments), but about testing our spirits, deepening our souls, and enriching our consciousness. Make a film about that – a film in which a character may lose the world but gain her soul.

9. Why should your movie look like a movie?

Who says you have to use master shots or shot-reverse shots or close-ups or music on the soundtrack or anything else that other films have? It’s another occupational hazard of being a film teacher that after I spend a few weeks with students some of the possibilities of cinematic syntax, many of them think I am telling them that they should shoot their films like Hitchcock, light them like Sternberg, edit them like Eisenstein, or score them like Bernard Hermann. What I’m actually trying to teach them is the lesson a novelist or poet presumably learns from reading great writers: to invent new forms of language to express their own particular thoughts and feelings. Don’t hesitate to bend the form past the breaking point if it will allow you to catch the little wiggle in life that only you see and feel. No more than there is a right way to paint a painting or score a symphony is there a correct way to light or shoot a movie, a best way to edit it, a right or wrong way it should look. Hollywood has brainwashed us by flooding the market with movies that look, sound, and feel almost identical. But the question to ask is why would anyone want their movie to look like a Hollywood one? Why would you want your hand-crafted personal expression to look like it rolled off an assembly line? It’s the uniqueness of our voices that makes us interesting; the most boring voices in the world are those of professionally trained radio announcers. Let your own squeaky, twitchy, nervous voice emerge; don’t polish and smooth the roughness away.

A filmmaker friend of mine, Robert Kramer, made a movie called Starting Place. There are many amazing and powerful moments in it, most of which represent completely new imaginings of the possibilities of what you can say on film. There is an extended conversation in which Kramer repeatedly cuts away from the principle figure’s face to show views of his feet and hands (and not as a twitchy indication of guilt in the pseudo-Freudian cliché 60 Minutes employs). There is another conversation in which Kramer intercuts tights close-ups of a woman’s eyebrows and hairline and ears rather than showing her whole face. What Kramer does is simply what every artist does: he gets us to see with fresh eyes, to think and feel in new ways. But to do that, he has to fracture and dislocate conventional cinematic forms of presentation. He must reinvent language to make it capable of carrying the meaning he wants it to bear. It’s a question of who is the master, and the true artist is always the master of the form he uses. And make no mistake about it: If you don’t use the forms, they will use you. If you don’t twist and torture them, and beat them up, they will twist and torture you and beat you up. If you don’t ride them, they will ride you. They will homogenize and blandify your ideas. They will bend and flatten your eccentric wiggles and curves into their own cookie-cutter shapes and mass-produced meanings.

10. Who’s afraid of the dark?

Why do movies have establishing shots? Why does mood music tell us what characters are thinking and feeling? Why are characters’ goals and intentions made visible? Why must everything be explained? Life isn’t like this. I don’t know what people I talk to are thinking. I can’t see inside their hearts and read their minds. Why do we expect to be able to do that in our movies?

In fear of losing viewers, Hollywood explains more or less everything. The goal is not to leave viewers in the dark for a single minute. It’s why most Hollywood movies are improved by catching them on television a half-hour or so after they have begun. Characters and events become much more fascinating when we can’t figure them out. Why do we want things in our movies to be clear? Why do we want actions, events, and outcomes to be logical and rational (since so much of life is not this way)? Why do we insist on knowing, knowning, knowing so much about everyone and everything? Life is full of mysteries, darkness, unknowns, randomness. What we are is, of course, the greatest mystery of all.

A little dark would be preferable to this blinding insight. Make a movie where people’s surfaces are as opaque, their insides are invisible, as they are in life. Make a movie where people don’t progress step by step toward goals. Make a movie where the ending does not clear everything up. Read The Sacred Fount or The Awkward Age if you want to see it done in words. Cherish the mystery of experience. Respect what can never be known – even about those closest to you: friends, relatives, and lovers. In a word, honor life.

That’s ten, and as good a place as any to stop. The perceptive reader will have detected long before now that these ten rules are really only one rule repeated ten times: Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Which leads to one meta-rule that overrides all of the others: Violate any of these rules rather than betray the truth.

AFI’S DESCRIPTION OF MOVIE QUOTES CULTURAL IMPACT: Movie Quotes that viewers use in their own lives and situations; circulating through popular culture, they become part of the national (US) lexicon.

There is a certain genius in writing dialogue – because it is hardly ever about play with words – but more about allowing the character to speak through you… at the time when the words go down on paper, even the writer doesn’t fully understand the capacity of the work… and that is because he is simply the originating artist… the final artwork is always a collaboration – the final piece of originality that goes on to capture a civilization, is an amalgamation of the director’s vision, the actor’s intuition, the writer’s finesse, and most indebtedly, the spirit of the story itself. These characters exist… they existed long before they appeared on screen… and of all the stories that have been told, these have resonated most with the pulse of popular culture…

What is remarkable is how simple, seemingly meaningless ordinary text can suddenly – within their context, their irony, their subtext, their suggestiveness… the delivery of the words themselves… suddenly, become iconic. Suddenly these simple, meaningless, ordinary words… are magical – they create history, culture… one must be intuitive in the writing of dialogue… lest they miss what their character is saying…

This collection is simply a small tribute of my personal favourites that I have picked out of the 400 Nominated Movie Quotes for AFI…

Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night. – Character: Margo Channing, Film: All About Eve.

It’s showtime! – Character: Joe Gideon, Film: All That Jazz.

Now, I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. – Character: Gen. George Patton, Film: Patton.

Chivalry is not only dead, it’s decomposed. – Character: John. D. Hachensacker III, Film: The Palm Beach Story.

Follow the money. – Character: Deep Throat, Film: All The President’s Men.

Sometimes there’s so much beauty in the world I feel like I can’t take it, like my heart’s going to cave in. – Character: Ricky Fitts, Film: American Beauty.

Don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone I love. – Character: Alvy Singer, Film: Annie Hall.

You make me want to be a better man. – Character: Melvin Udall, Film: As Good As It Gets.

One million dollars! – Character: Dr. Evil, Film: Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.

I love him because he’s the kind of guy who gets drunk on a glass of buttermilk, and I love the way he blushes right up over his ears. I love him because he doesn’t know how to kiss, the jerk! – Character: Sugarpuss O’Shea, Film: Ball of Fire.

Have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight? – Character: The Joker, Film: Batman.

His eyes have made love to me all evening. – Character: Marguerite Gautier, Film: Camille.

If you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth. – Character: Mohandas Gandhi, Film: Gandhi.

Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. – Character: Michael Corleone, Film: The Godfather: Part II.

In my case, self-absorption is completely justified. I have never discovered any other subject so worthy of my attention. – Character: Waldo Lydecher, Film: Laura.

Somebody stop me! – Character: Stanley Ipkiss, Film: The Mask.

But, in the opinion of the court, you are not only sane but you’re the sanest man that ever walked into this courtroom. – Character: Judge May, Film: Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.

I wouldn’t give you two cents for all your fancy rules if, behind them, they didn’t have a little bit of plain, ordinary, everyday kindness and a little looking out for the other fella, too. – Character: Jefferson Smith, Film: Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.

I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore! – Character: Howard Beale, Film: Network.

Ninotchka, it’s midnight. One half of Paris is making love to the other half. – Character: Count Leon D’Algout, Film: Ninotchka.

I cannot stand little notes on my pillow! “We are all out of cornflakes, F.U.” It took me three hours to figure out F.U. was Felix Unger. – Character: Oscar Madison, Film: The Odd Couple.

Mr. Allen, this may come as a shock to you, but there are some men who don’t end every sentence with a proposition. – Character: Jan Morrow, Film: Pillow Talk.

I want the fairy tale. – Character: Vivian, Film: Pretty Woman.

I love you. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you. I guess maybe I’ve even loved you before I saw you. – Character: George Eastman, Film: A Place in the Sun.

They’re here! – Character: Carol Anne Freeling, Film: Poltergeist.

Not many people know it, but the Führer was a terrific dancer. – Character: Franz Liebkind, Film: The Producers.

There are only two things more beautiful than a good gun – a Swiss watch and a woman from anywhere. – Character: Cherry Valance, Film: Red River.

Are you gonna bark all day, little doggie, or are you gonna bite? – Character: Mr. Blonde, Film: Reservoir Dogs.

I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen. – Character: Lloyd Dobler, Film: Say Anything…

Get busy livin’, or get busy dyin’. – Character: Andy, Film: The Shawshank Redemption.

I do wish we could chat longer, but I’m having an old friend for dinner. – Character: Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Film: The Silence of the Lambs.

Look at that! Look how she moves. That’s just like Jell-O on springs. She must have some sort of built-in motor. I tell you, it’s a whole different sex! – Character: Jerry, Film: Some Like It Hot.

Do, or do not. There is no try. – Character: Yoda, Film: Star Wars V: The Empire Strikes Back.

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. – Character: Blanche Dubois, Film: A Streercar Named Desire.

Go ahead, make my day. – Character: Harry Callahan, Film: Sudden Impact.

Years from now, when you talk about this – and you will – be kind. – Character: Laura Reynolds, Film: Tea & Sympathy.

In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, and they had 500 years of democracy and peace. And what did that produce? The cuckoo clock. – Character: Harry Lime, Film: The Third Man.

You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it. – Character: Atticus Finch, Film: To Kill a Mockingbird.

You see, François, marriage is a beautiful mistake which two people make together. But with you, François, I think it would be a mistake. – Character: Mariette Colet, Film: Trouble in Paradise.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist. – Character: Verbal Kint, Film: The Usual Suspects.

Greed, for lack of a better word, is good. – Character: Gordon Gekko, Film: Wall Street.

What hump? – Character: Igor, Film: Young Frankenstein.

You’re familiar with the phrase, “Man’s reach exceeds his grasp?” It’s a lie. Man’s grasp exceeds his nerve. Society only tolerates one change at a time. – Character: Nikola Tesla, Film: The Prestige.

Tak samo, jak wszyscy lubimy się bać, uwielbiamy filmy o potworach. Tych wielkich i tych mniejszych, tych strasznych i bardziej przyjaznych, poważnych i głupkowatych. Lista ukochanych strachów każdego z nas jest tak wielka, że trudno wybrać tylko tę ulubioną piątkę. Ja składając swoją co chwilę łapałem się na “a może w miejsce xxx wrzucić yyy? choć nie, przecież zzz nadałby się najlepiej”. W końcu, po wielu wyrzeczeniach, jakoś udało mi się doprowadzić ten ranking do stanu obecnego. Tylko nie będę się już zastanawiał czy dobrze wybrałem czy nie, bo zaprzątałbym sobie tym głowę  całymi dniami.

5. Golgotan

Tak, gówniany demon musiał się tu znaleźć. Nie dlatego, że jestem wielkim fanem filmów Kevina Smitha, bo nie jestem, po prostu potwór z Golgoty urzekł mnie od pierwszego wejrzenia. Można o nim powiedzieć, że jest do dupy, że tak naprawdę śmierdzi kaką, że to kupa, a nie monstrum. A gówno prawda. Spójrzcie na niego, czyż Golgotan nie jest słodki? Do tego pojawił się w filmie  z Salmą Hayek, a to mocno wzbudza moją zazdrość.

4. Blob Zabójca

Czy puszczony na makietę miasta kisiel o smaku agrestowym (musi być, kisiel zawsze jest agrestowy) może budzić strach i być symbolem terroru wśród nastolatków? Proszę bardzo, zapytajcie o niego swoich dziadków. To jest, jeśli macie na tyle odwagi. Blob nieodmiennie straszył kiedyś i straszy teraz, dla niego nie ma różnicy, jako intergalaktyczny kisiel będzie pożerał wszystko na swojej drodze aż skończy się sam czas. O ile wcześniej nie trafi na kule Króla Całego Kosmosu.
Uwielbiam te stare plakaty filmowe.

3. Faun

Czarujący i szarmancki mieszkaniec labiryntu, który tak samo jak z mała Ofelią bawił się z widzem. Trudno było nie ulec magii jego słów, nieprawdaż? Wszechmocny faun za każdym razem, gdy się pojawiał wzbudzał respekt i strach związany z następną misją powieżoną bohaterce i siedzącym przed telewizorem. A jego wygląd, no cóż, trudno nie być niepewnym istoty, która wygląda jakby była poskładana z ziemi, trawy i cząstek drzew. Zupełnie jak bezbronne kolosy. A najgorsze jest to, że przez cały film trudno było określić po czyjej stronie on tak naprawdę stoi.

2. Hannibal Lecter

Inteligentny, wygadany, smakosz o wysublimowanym guście, poważny i miły doktor, postrach policji całego świata. Zdziwieni, że Lecter pojawia się w tym zestawieniu? Nie ma czemu. Mimo, że Hannibal-kanibal straszy swoją wiedzą i manierami, a nie wyskakiwaniem zza rogu, jest jednym z najgorszych filmowych monstrów wymyślonych przez człowieka. Że niby nie? A kto z Was chciałby zostać nakarmiony własnym mózgiem, hm?

I dochodzimy do szefa wszystkich szefów, czyli…

1. Godzilla

Oczywiście nie mogło być inaczej, idol moich lat pacholęcych musiał trafić na pierwsze miejsce. Niekwestionowany Król Potworów, nazywany tak od dawien dawna, przez 50 lat swojej filmowej kariery niszczył i ratował ludzkość walcząc z coraz to dziwniejszymi i groźniejszymi przeciwnikami, aż sam umarł chroniąc nas przed najgorszym. I choć te kilka filmów po roku 2000 nie trzymały tak wysokiej klasy jak poprzednie, Godzilla skutecznie przypomniał się młodszej widowni. Jako jedyny z całej piątki doczekał się swojej gwiazdy w hollywoodzkiej alei sław. Tylko jemu poświęcane są całe muzea. Wyłącznie ten kawałek gumowego stroju stał się ikoną  światowej popkultury. Gamera może się schować w swojej skorupie. Nic nie ma podjary do tego kraszera.

Oficjalnie przepraszam wszystkie strachy, które nie trafiły na tę listę. Selekcja była naprawdę trudna, moi drodzy. Sorka.

Shinigami

INTERVISTA. Si conclude una stagione di angosce ed errori per l’ematologo di Miami. Vacilla la legge del padre che «pensava di non avere scelta».Tutti lo sospettano «ma sarà la paura a restituirgli lucidità». Happy end? «Impossibile, e comunque nessuno vuole la sua riabilitazione». Ipotesi cattura? «Facciamo il tifo per lui..»

«È giusto che i genitori facciano il loro mestiere e mostrino Dexter ai figli quando lo riterranno opportuno, ma anche quando si sentiranno pronti. Non voglio assumermi responsabilità (ride)». Legittima la risposta di Jennifer Carpenter quando le si chiede, proprio ora che si è appena sposata con il protagonista della serie tv Michael C. Hall, di cui nella fiction interpreta la sorella, a che età permetterebbe a un suo eventuale figlio di vedere Dexter. Ma Dexter è qualcosa di più di un semplice cattivo: «il telefilm in cui il cattivo é il buono, e viceversa» come hanno titolato un po’ troppo diplomaticamente sintetici ma efficaci i francesi al momento del lancio della seconda stagione su Canal+. Anche il suo fascino è diverso, «ma se vivessi uccidendo ossessivamente anche nella vita reale, non credo che adesso avrei una moglie» aggiunge ridendo Michael C. Hall, alias Dexter Morgan.

Stasera su FoxCrime andrà in onda l’attesa ultima puntata della seconda stagione. Per l’ematologo della polizia che di notte diventa un serial killer di serial killer, è stata la stagione della crisi, complice anche lo sciopero degli sceneggiatori che ha raddoppiato non volendo la tensione delle puntate. Vacilla infatti il codice del padre Harry, ex poliziotto, non si applicano più in automatico le istruzioni per sopravvivere alle conseguenze delle sue stesse pulsioni. Dexter si trova a un passo dall’essere scoperto dai suoi stessi colleghi, ha un nemico in casa, il sergente Doakes, che gli è più simile di quanto non creda. Persino nella vita privata, sorvegliata e blindata, la sua verità nascosta è accerchiata. Che ne sarà dunque di Dexter? Lo abbiamo chiesto allo stesso protagonista, incontrato a Madrid.

Le certezze della prima serie vengono spazzate vie dalla seconda. Dexter scopre l’angoscia, la paura forse l’errore. Nella prima serie Dexter non è mai perso, mantiene sempre il contatto con la realtà. Come hai vissuto i cambiamenti del tuo personaggio?

Quando hai a che fare con una serie che ha un finale aperto è necessario confrontarsi con tutte le possibili evoluzioni di un personaggio. È vero, nella prima serie pensa di poter realmente programmare il suo mondo, costruisce su di sé delle strutture, degli atteggiamenti per dare agli altri l’impressione di essere normale. Quando questa corazza si sgretola, Dexter si confronta con il suo lato umano. Ma proprio quegli atteggiamenti simulati, quella parvenza di normalità gli permettono di entrare maggiormente in sintonia con i suoi affetti, con la sua donna. Le relazioni diventano più strette, reali, vere. Comincia a capire che deve recuperare lucidità e interrompere le connessioni tra la razionalità e i sentimenti che lo condizionano profondamente. Il senso di paura che lo investe in realtà gli permette di recuperare terreno, di ritornare nei suoi panni, così come la paura, di allontanarsi da quelle emozioni che non gli consentono di essere razionale.

Nel prepararti alla serie, hai letto qualcosa sui serial killer? Ti sei ispirato a qualche film in particolare?

Ho letto dei dossier del Fbi, li ho trovati molto utili soprattutto per capire i disturbi della personalità, le caratteristiche degli psicopatici. Ho letto anche alcuni interrogatori della polizia di Miami. Ma nessun caso che si sovrapponesse al profilo di Dexter. Di Hannibal Lecter ha la sua intelligenza, il suo mettersi in connessione e allontanarsi sempre rapidamente dalla sua vita emozionale. Però Dexter non è un serial killer classico. Ha l’ossessione di voler uccidere chi merita di essere ucciso. Ha un codice: solo chi ha fatto del male può morire. Questo porta il pubblico normale ad affezionarsi a un personaggio simile.

Harry’s law. Cosa sarebbe stato Dexter senza il codice del padre? Un serial killer qualsiasi?

Questa è una domanda interessante. Penso che se Dexter non avesse imparato a contenere gli impulsi avrebbe potuto uccidere indiscriminatamente, in fondo è Harry, il suo padre adottivo, un poliziotto, che crea quella specie di killer. Harry pensa di non avere scelta, e di non poter fare diversamente, di potergli mostrare di uccidere e in quale occasione. Harry non si pone il problema della redenzione. Dà quasi per scontato che suo figlio debba diventare un serial killer. Non cerca altre soluzioni se non quella di insegnargli le possibili vittime.

Di solito si fa il tifo per l’happy end del protagonista. Ma con Dexter non si spera in una una vera riabilitazione del personaggio. Si vuole a tutti i costi che continui a non essere scoperto. Perché?

La possibilità che Dexter venga preso regala suspence alla fiction, ed è fondamentale durante tutta la serie. La cosa che ci fa interessare a Dexter è la sua attitudine a uccidere. È questa complessità che ci porta a legarci al personaggio. Quindi noi non vorremmo che fosse preso per non perdere interesse intorno al suo personaggio. Noi lo amiamo in quanto killer di bad people e non ci aspettiamo una reale riabilitazione. Anche se potrebbe essere uno splendido padre, uno splendido compagno, sappiamo che potrebbe esserlo ugualmente non rinunciando alla sua vita da killer.

Se gli sceneggiatori decidessero per l’happy end di Dexter quale finale vorresti?

Svegliarsi e capire di non essere più preda dei suoi istinti ma non credo che questo sia possibile. Prima di Dexter ho vestito i panni del protagonista di Six Feet Under, altro personaggio dalla doppia vita. Sono ruoli complessi pieni di segreti nascosti che mi hanno messo alla prova e che hanno fatto sviluppare i personaggi.

Dexter si fa volere bene dal pubblico. Come ti rapporti con questa situazione? Senti delle responsabilità nei confronti del pubblico e del personaggio? È unbene o un male avere questa sorta di potere?

Penso di avere un profondo rapporto con il mio personaggio, sono in una poisizione unica, singolare: gli sceneggiatori mi incoraggiano a contribuire al mio personaggio ma non necessariamente alla storia in sé, sono una specie di guardiano. Penso che tutti abbiano un lato oscuro che tendiamo a nascondere, me compreso: sta sempre lì, viene fuori quando le persone danno spazio ai loro impulsi più nascosti.

Hai esordito con il Macbeth di Shakespeare a teatro. Hai paura di essere riconosciuto solo come un attore televisivo?

So che pochi conoscono il mio passato. È normale che la gente mi ricordi per i ruoli che ho interpretato in tv. Il passaggio dal teatro alla tv lo vivo come una evoluzione anche se l’ho realizzato in seguito. Non mi spaventa l’idea di poter essere ricordato solo per questi ruoli, di restarne incastrato: non fa forse parte dei rischi del mestiere?

INTERVISTA. Si conclude una stagione di angosce ed errori per l’ematologo di Miami. Vacilla la legge del padre che «pensava di non avere scelta».Tutti lo sospettano «ma sarà la paura a restituirgli lucidità». Happy end? «Impossibile, e comunque nessuno vuole la sua riabilitazione». Ipotesi cattura? «Facciamo il tifo per lui..»

«È giusto che i genitori facciano il loro mestiere e mostrino Dexter ai figli quando lo riterranno opportuno, ma anche quando si sentiranno pronti. Non voglio assumermi responsabilità (ride)». Legittima la risposta di Jennifer Carpenter quando le si chiede, proprio ora che si è appena sposata con il protagonista della serie tv Michael C. Hall, di cui nella fiction interpreta la sorella, a che età permetterebbe a un suo eventuale figlio di vedere Dexter. Ma Dexter è qualcosa di più di un semplice cattivo: «il telefilm in cui il cattivo é il buono, e viceversa» come hanno titolato un po’ troppo diplomaticamente sintetici ma efficaci i francesi al momento del lancio della seconda stagione su Canal+. Anche il suo fascino è diverso, «ma se vivessi uccidendo ossessivamente anche nella vita reale, non credo che adesso avrei una moglie» aggiunge ridendo Michael C. Hall, alias Dexter Morgan.

Stasera su FoxCrime andrà in onda l’attesa ultima puntata della seconda stagione. Per l’ematologo della polizia che di notte diventa un serial killer di serial killer, è stata la stagione della crisi, complice anche lo sciopero degli sceneggiatori che ha raddoppiato non volendo la tensione delle puntate. Vacilla infatti il codice del padre Harry, ex poliziotto, non si applicano più in automatico le istruzioni per sopravvivere alle conseguenze delle sue stesse pulsioni. Dexter si trova a un passo dall’essere scoperto dai suoi stessi colleghi, ha un nemico in casa, il sergente Doakes, che gli è più simile di quanto non creda. Persino nella vita privata, sorvegliata e blindata, la sua verità nascosta è accerchiata. Che ne sarà dunque di Dexter? Lo abbiamo chiesto allo stesso protagonista, incontrato a Madrid.

Le certezze della prima serie vengono spazzate vie dalla seconda. Dexter scopre l’angoscia, la paura forse l’errore. Nella prima serie Dexter non è mai perso, mantiene sempre il contatto con la realtà. Come hai vissuto i cambiamenti del tuo personaggio?

Quando hai a che fare con una serie che ha un finale aperto è necessario confrontarsi con tutte le possibili evoluzioni di un personaggio. È vero, nella prima serie pensa di poter realmente programmare il suo mondo, costruisce su di sé delle strutture, degli atteggiamenti per dare agli altri l’impressione di essere normale. Quando questa corazza si sgretola, Dexter si confronta con il suo lato umano. Ma proprio quegli atteggiamenti simulati, quella parvenza di normalità gli permettono di entrare maggiormente in sintonia con i suoi affetti, con la sua donna. Le relazioni diventano più strette, reali, vere. Comincia a capire che deve recuperare lucidità e interrompere le connessioni tra la razionalità e i sentimenti che lo condizionano profondamente. Il senso di paura che lo investe in realtà gli permette di recuperare terreno, di ritornare nei suoi panni, così come la paura, di allontanarsi da quelle emozioni che non gli consentono di essere razionale.

Nel prepararti alla serie, hai letto qualcosa sui serial killer? Ti sei ispirato a qualche film in particolare?

Ho letto dei dossier del Fbi, li ho trovati molto utili soprattutto per capire i disturbi della personalità, le caratteristiche degli psicopatici. Ho letto anche alcuni interrogatori della polizia di Miami. Ma nessun caso che si sovrapponesse al profilo di Dexter. Di Hannibal Lecter ha la sua intelligenza, il suo mettersi in connessione e allontanarsi sempre rapidamente dalla sua vita emozionale. Però Dexter non è un serial killer classico. Ha l’ossessione di voler uccidere chi merita di essere ucciso. Ha un codice: solo chi ha fatto del male può morire. Questo porta il pubblico normale ad affezionarsi a un personaggio simile.

Harry’s law. Cosa sarebbe stato Dexter senza il codice del padre? Un serial killer qualsiasi?

Questa è una domanda interessante. Penso che se Dexter non avesse imparato a contenere gli impulsi avrebbe potuto uccidere indiscriminatamente, in fondo è Harry, il suo padre adottivo, un poliziotto, che crea quella specie di killer. Harry pensa di non avere scelta, e di non poter fare diversamente, di potergli mostrare di uccidere e in quale occasione. Harry non si pone il problema della redenzione. Dà quasi per scontato che suo figlio debba diventare un serial killer. Non cerca altre soluzioni se non quella di insegnargli le possibili vittime.

Di solito si fa il tifo per l’happy end del protagonista. Ma con Dexter non si spera in una una vera riabilitazione del personaggio. Si vuole a tutti i costi che continui a non essere scoperto. Perché?

La possibilità che Dexter venga preso regala suspence alla fiction, ed è fondamentale durante tutta la serie. La cosa che ci fa interessare a Dexter è la sua attitudine a uccidere. È questa complessità che ci porta a legarci al personaggio. Quindi noi non vorremmo che fosse preso per non perdere interesse intorno al suo personaggio. Noi lo amiamo in quanto killer di bad people e non ci aspettiamo una reale riabilitazione. Anche se potrebbe essere uno splendido padre, uno splendido compagno, sappiamo che potrebbe esserlo ugualmente non rinunciando alla sua vita da killer.

Se gli sceneggiatori decidessero per l’happy end di Dexter quale finale vorresti?

Svegliarsi e capire di non essere più preda dei suoi istinti ma non credo che questo sia possibile. Prima di Dexter ho vestito i panni del protagonista di Six Feet Under, altro personaggio dalla doppia vita. Sono ruoli complessi pieni di segreti nascosti che mi hanno messo alla prova e che hanno fatto sviluppare i personaggi.

Dexter si fa volere bene dal pubblico. Come ti rapporti con questa situazione? Senti delle responsabilità nei confronti del pubblico e del personaggio? È unbene o un male avere questa sorta di potere?

Penso di avere un profondo rapporto con il mio personaggio, sono in una poisizione unica, singolare: gli sceneggiatori mi incoraggiano a contribuire al mio personaggio ma non necessariamente alla storia in sé, sono una specie di guardiano. Penso che tutti abbiano un lato oscuro che tendiamo a nascondere, me compreso: sta sempre lì, viene fuori quando le persone danno spazio ai loro impulsi più nascosti.

Hai esordito con il Macbeth di Shakespeare a teatro. Hai paura di essere riconosciuto solo come un attore televisivo?

So che pochi conoscono il mio passato. È normale che la gente mi ricordi per i ruoli che ho interpretato in tv. Il passaggio dal teatro alla tv lo vivo come una evoluzione anche se l’ho realizzato in seguito. Non mi spaventa l’idea di poter essere ricordato solo per questi ruoli, di restarne incastrato: non fa forse parte dei rischi del mestiere?

Parliamo solo del romanzo di Thomas Harris, Hannibal Rising (meglio il titolo originale; non trovo Hannibal Lecter – Le origini del male efficace come titolo italiano), perché non ho visto ancora il film. Di tutta la serie (che, modestamente, ho letto per intero) è certamente il capitolo più debole.

È un vero peccato che Harris sia uno scrittore così poco prolifico e, diciamola tutta, neanche tanto eccezionale; è anche vero che dopo aver scritto un capolavoro come Il silenzio degli innocenti è difficile superarsi.

Ma torniamo al libro. Il suo inizio è davvero stentato e frammentato: un tentativo forse di rendere l’appannarsi dei ricordi e l’amnesia di Lecter, ma che comunque non ho apprezzato. Alcuni dialoghi sono poco chiari, ci sono volute troppe riletture per i miei gusti; in generale il libro “non scorre”.

Nella trama, poi, alcuni errori imperdonabili. Che fine ha fatto la polidattilia alla mano sinistra di Lecter? E la sua crudeltà verso gli animali (citata ne Il delitto della terza luna e caratteristica distintiva dei serial killer)? Sono quasi sicuro che questo libro sia stato scritto solo per tappare un buco, senza neanche tanta cura, e che sia solo un’operazione commerciale; Dino De Laurentiis disse infatti ad Harris che se non avesse scritto un prequel, qualcun altro lo avrebbe fatto al posto suo…

• If Designnobis can just get their heads around the idea that the winged-predator-landing look rather works against their market, I believe I’ve found the coolest fishing boat ever…
• Australian cricketer Andrew Symonds provides a salutary warning of the calamity that results when stuff like earning a living gets in the way of your fishing and drinking. Do his employers ever think of anyone but themselves, I wonder?
• I’m sorry, but after reading his blog, I’m not sure I’d head off into the woods with Emo if he was the last fishing guide on the planet. “I am going on a fishing trip very soon. The anticipation is mounting; it drowns out my angst.” …”I am still alive. The blackness has not come for me yet.”…”Once, I had pride. Now, every time they cut me with their words, talk about me behind me back, or blog about me what little self-confidence is left is whittled away.” I defy anyone to read two pages of this stuff without thinking of Anthony Hopkins.

Nicht nachbearbeitet, nur runterskaliert.

Talk about criminal sociopaths.

The Dark Knight showed the Joker (portrayed by Heath Ledger) as one of the darkest and most insane criminals in the fictional world. And I thought over other fictional sociopaths that gave off — or almost gave off — the same scent as the joker, and one name came to mind: Hannibal Lecter, as portrayed by Sir Anthony Hopkins.

So who’s the calmer but more devious one? Both are definitely genuinely geniuses who unfortunately saw the world differently from us. In their elements, they are both calm and thinking, seeing great beauty in their beliefs. When they act on their beliefs, they create great catastrophe. And they do it gladly.

Sir Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal Lecter was also portrayed by Brian Cox (Manhunter) and Gaspard Ulliel (Hannibal Rising) but the most memorable portrayal of the infamous cannibal was that of Sir Anthony Hopkins. With his chilling performance and those calm but maddening eyes, his performance was very mesmerizing that he won an Oscar for it and got to play it in a total of three Hannibal Lecter movies.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal Lecter was a brilliant psychiatrist. He was also a cannibal serial killer. Creator Thomas Harris never gave a clear explanation as to the inspiration for the character. Harris had been in many investigative cases and court trials of serial murders and brutal killings for us to know for sure the origin of Dr. Lecter.

According to fictional character Special Agent Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter wasn’t as crazy as everybody else thought. Graham is the hero of Red Dragon, and was the one who exposed and captured Hannibal Lecter. Having been favorited by Hannibal Lecter himself because they think alike, we can say that it is Graham who knows Lecter the best. And when he says Lecter’s not crazy, we can really believe it.

Now just how do you add up a cannibal serial killer who’s “not crazy”? He would be intelligent, calm, calculating, and deadly. And this is an understatement when we’re talking of Hannibal Lecter.

Heath Ledger’s the Joker

The Joker

Heath Ledger’s performance was hailed as one of the best ever, garnering him a rumored posthumous award and reaping the top spot in the superhero movies list. And we absolutely understand why. The Dark Knight’s Joker was definitely one of the most wicked fictional characters ever placed on screen and, with Heath Ledger behind the makeup, it was one of the highest level of wicked.

The Joker’s past is not clearly defined either. The general story is that he was once a scientist or an engineer who fell into some vat of chemical waste where he emerged with bleached skin and green hair. This wasn’t confirmed as there were other theories as to how Joker came to be who he is. His real name is also unknown.

What is known is his penchant for killing people and creating chaos for his amusement. Heath Ledger made that very clear in The Dark Knight. He’s also a very smart sociopath, also made very clear in the movie. He also has no remorse whatsoever for the things he’s done. Comes with the job description. Heath pulled that off too.

When you’re a sociopath and you like to joke around, I guess there’s no better way to have fun that to kill people and make some explosions.

Who’s the Most Wicked?

I honestly cannot decide. These two have been so scary. They’re both genius human minds with no heart and smile at people’s deaths. Sir Anthony Hopkins and Heath Ledger made us believe it was them, with their eyes, their tone, their voice, and their creepy words. Hats down to both of them.

Hey, guys. 

Wondering why you didn’t see a new cool ass blog entry for a while? Checking every day to see if I uploaded some cool shit-o?

Here’s why…  

I thought I could fly off of the sofa, and it didn’t happen. 

I am a Super Dog, that cannot be right. 

I hit the ground and hurt my leg pretty bad. I have to admit, I was a pussy and whined about it for 30 sec. straight, really really loudly, with my left leg all crawled up. That freaked my dad out for sure. 

(above: retired Super Dog) 

Daddy thought it was broken, he took me to an emergency vet in West L.A., did X-rays and was there for 5 hours.. (including 3 hour wait… what kind of emergency vet is that? I mean, come on! Just finish stitching up the bitches who got attacked by a pit bull, and come to me! Jesus!!!)  

They found nothing in the X-rays, though, what a relief. 

But we did not have a good experience at that vet, so we took the X-rays to my trusty vet, Banfield in Long Beach. They are great.  

They examined me and the X-rays, took a long time, and still found nothing. They love me there. They know me and take a good care of me. I was getting better by their love already. 

I highly recommend Dr. S. at Banfield. She is awesome, caring, and patient with all the questions my dad has about me.  Also, Suzanne at the reception is very smart and helpful. Cute little asian girl. Get help from her when you go there.

If you’d like to know which vet not to go to in West L.A. area, I can tell you NOT VCA West L.A. Animal Hospital on Sepulveda Blvd by Santa Monica Blvd. Wanna know why? I don’t feel like talking about it here, so find my google review via google map. 

We are NEVER going back there. 

Mmmm, I didn’t mean to bitch, but I thought you should know. 

So a long story short, 

I hurt my leg and I could not get to the computer to post a new blog til now. 

I’ve been sleeping on my awesome cookie monster bed. 

I need to rest for a while. I will see you guys when I’m better. Don’t miss me, just think of my cute furr and my pink lipstick. 

Bye bye for now! 

O Seriado Friends com pensaonagens famosos de histórias de terror…

Abraços!

I found my first love at Petsmart, when I escaped during the puppy training class (I’m an outlaw like that).

She is beautiful and is different from any other bitches I’ve met before. 

She is quiet, shy, virtuous, obedient, everything I look for in a bitch!  She must be Japanese. 

Hey, bring me some more Nori for my Rice, and don’t forget to warm up my sake! 

She is as beautiful as the first snow in winter. Her eyes are like a river, her hair smells like flowers, and her ass smells like…… you know….. 

Anyhow, 

although I failed to make babies with her, I had a great time chasing after her. Her mom was hot, too. I would like to sleep with them both at the same time, please. 

Like they say: Once you go White, you’ve done something right!  

I got her number!!! 

…. Seriously!!!  

I graduated Petsmart’s Puppy Training Class.

Me and my doggy pals just finished the last class which was a test of some of the commands we learned.

Those were:
“Sit” – Duh!
“Down” – Duh! again
10 sec. “Stay” – I can do 2 minutes EASY!
“Leave It” – I cannot touch treats or a toy
“Take It” – I can get to eat the treats or get the toy
“Come” when called – Just gimme treats and I will run towards you!
Also,
“Loose Leash Walking” – which means I cannot pull on the leash when I walk with Daddy. I would never do that to him. I am well behaved as you know.

I aced all the tests, no surprise. I am good like that.

Those are not the only commands/tricks we learned but those are the major ones.

I was offended that they did not test on “Shake” or “High Five.” I can tear it up on those tricks, son!
People will pay me to see my DOUBLE “Shake” and “High 5″ combination trick!

So I graduated.
Da~ da~~~~ dadada~~ Da~~~~ Da~~~~
Da~~~~ Dadada~~ Da~~~~~~~~
Here’s my picture with the Graduation Hat (Size Small):

It was weird leaving knowing that I won’t see my pals again from next week on sob sob… 
The class was 8 weeks long. Daddy says Lauren, the trainer was great. We highly recommend her (Petsmart in Culver City).

It was a nice little class. I heard they do not have more than 8 dogs per class. I like how they don’t over populate. Good enough size to socialize but not too many to get too crazy.

And also daddy says it wasn’t expensive. Although I think he should have paid top dollar for my training (private class at a dog whisperer or some shite like that), but I forgive him since I enjoyed the class so much.

I am the smallest but smartest and cutest dog in the class.
I’m sure you can tell that in the photos.

I’m schemin’ on some mad new tricks…  

Stay tuned, bitches!  

Hey guys? How’s your Thursday going? 
Oh me? Can’t complain. 

Not to mention that I am featured on LA Weekly Page 21~22. 

I’m such a rockstar stud, I even caught the eyes of a human reporter woman.

Also a picture of my daddy, Shane and me is on LA Weekly’s website:
Click Here for the Photo  
(slideshow image #11) – Photo by Gendy

Go and read LA Weekly. I know you want to.  

Read the article online and check out how metal I am!!!:   
Click Here for the Article
 

As I predicted, I kicked ass at the race last Saturday.

First of all, I was the cutest one there, wearing the awesome cape Dad and his friends made for me when they made more of the Nibbles T-shirts. The cape has my signature pissed off face and my name on it.

I became a super dog. I’m so fast, no one could see me run! In fact, I flew!!

There is a video. I will post it once Dad is finished recording for his new record with his new band, Schwarzenator. Although I’m an expert blogger, my video editing skills is not up to par like humans.

For being the coolest chihuahua there, I got lots of cool free stuff,

such as bottled dog water by dog whisperer Ceaser Milan (LOL! dog water? humans are funny!), and Royal Canine’s Premium Chihuahua Food, pens, and a fan (the girl who was working there was HOT. She was at OC Race as well. Should have gotten her number). 

Then Dad and I went down to the Paw Print station. It turned out to be a hair print. My paws are extremely hairy, just like my daddy. 

Oh, BTW,

I got interviewed by LA Weekly.

That once again, proves how hot and metal I am.

The article and possibly a photo will come out this Thursday. Everyone check it out!