The crime film is a strange animal.  At its most uninspired, it can sink to banal dichotomies of good and evil, littered with gimmicky and ultimately uninteresting McGuffins.  But at its best, it can expose human nature to be simultaneously ruthless and well-intentioned, and the human mind to be at once terrifically focused and hopelessly impulsive and corruptible.  Jules Dassin’s Rififi is an example—perhaps the example—of the crime film at its best.  It opens with Tony (the unbeatable Jean Servais), a middle-aged man with a tired yet detectably pleasant face, already in a backroom gambling after just finishing up a five-year stretch behind bars for a jewel heist.  To the criminals of Paris, Tony is known formidably as the Stéphanois. Within a matter of hours, Tony is reunited with his old friends Jo and Mario (crooked, good-hearted fellows) and involved in strategizing the most complicated and lucrative jewel heist in decades.

The target is Mappin & Webb, a posh jewelry store Jo has cased on several occasions.  With the help of the twinkle-eyed skirt-chaser Cesar (played with panache by Dassin himself), Mario’s Italian friend and the best safe cracker in western Europe, the men devise a beautifully intricate and imaginative heist scenario. A heist scenario that, when executed, goes off with breathless aplomb.  However the euphoria of perfect technique is not long for the world of Rififi, and when Mario visits a lady friend against Tony’s strict orders to maintain a low profile, the glass house develops a fissure.  Grutter, a king thug who owns the night club L’Age d’Or, begins to torture or pick off Tony’s friends in an attempt to get to the loot.  Mario and his doting girlfriend get their throats slit.  Tonio, Jo’s sunny little boy and Tony’s godchild, gets abducted. Cesar is tied to a wooden beam and tortured for answers.  When Tony finds Cesar, a retreating POV shot followed by three sickening gunshots reveals what happens to men who betray their friends.  In the wake of a grand crime, all hell has broken loose.

“Rififi” is a song crooned by the coquettish nightclub singer Vivianne.  As she wiggles and shimmies seductively on the foot of the stage at L’Age d’Or, she tells us in melody of the transformation her man undergoes when the mysterious power of “rififi” takes hold: “It’s the lingo of the streetwise, the battle cry of real tough guys…So don’t fry your brain and grumble, all it means is ‘rough n’ tumble.’”  Men under the spell of “rififi” go into an irrepressible tough-guy mode, destined hypnotically toward the allure of crime.  Yet it is the women dotted throughout Rififi who seem to feel the sting of this spell most acutely.  Vivianne’s song reoccurs at various points in the film, most notably when the men involved in the heist say goodbye to their respective ladies.  During this expertly cross-cut sequence, each woman senses silently that her man is off to commit an unlawful deed, yet she knows the futility of protesting.  Rififi subtly transcends the gender stereotypes of the crime genre by implying that these men and women stand on the same tragic plane, equally powerless to the destructive coaxing of “rififi.”  (It should be noted that Mado, Tony’s ex-lover, does emerge as strong-willed.  She neither succumbs to supplying Grutter with information that would get Tony killed, nor does she need Tony back in her life.  This is a very interesting arc for a character initially forced to withstand a hateful belt lashing while naked.)

The term “cinema of process” has been coined for the great French director Jean-Pierre Melville and his oeuvre of beautifully methodical crime films, beginning with Bob Le Flambeur in 1956.  Yet Dassin’s Rififi is a magnificently-honed work of obsessive process that in fact pre-dates Bob by one year.  (After Rififi’s release in 1955, Melville forced himself to wait until 1970 to make The Red Circle, a heist film with substantial structural similarity to Rififi.)  The “cinema of process” refers to the filmic technique of showing an act, and every detail integral to that act, in a patient, meticulous way.  The heist sequence in Rififi, which consists of nearly 30 utterly transfixing and wordless minutes of the elaborate, creative strategy (umbrellas! fire extinguishers!) used by the four men to relieve Mappin & Webb of its entire jewelry selection, is without a doubt the epitome of a cinema of process.  Yet the question remains: why show the process of an act?  And further more, why use this technique in Rififi?

Rififi is not only a heist film, Rififi is a film (similar to many others, and arguably matched by none) about a heist that is pulled off with bravado and then goes grievously, tragically wrong.  The process of the heist is not only fascinating, it also adds to the ultimate visual catharsis of the film.  It is more excruciating for one to see exactly how something irreparably falls apart when one has first cheered for the brilliant way it was put together.  Cesar spends tense, impressive minutes drilling an artful hole in a safe, and then later completely unhinges a perfectly executed heist by giving a hot ring to Vivianne.  The Stéphanois has the inspired thought to douse Mappin & Webb’s security alarm with fire extinguisher foam, only to later impulsively and secretly save Jo’s little boy from Grutter’s thugs (a save that costs Jo his life).  The elegant science of the process is followed by the senseless irrationality of the undoing.

The final sequence of the film is the haunting Afterward to the heist.  As a bullet-struck Tony drives little Tonio back to safety, he slumps deliriously over the steering wheel, his face ashen while blood drips mercilessly out of his pant leg.  Quick, crazed edits show trees flying by in a surreal blur, and the adorable Tonio looks alarmingly maniacal as he bounces around in the backseat, his toy gun waving and his baby teeth flashing.  The child laughs uncontrollably, the score blares, and we queasily feel the strength it takes for the dying Stéphanois to even press his foot to the brake pad.

The quiet, methodical minutes in Mappin & Webb are now a distant memory.

Vous voulez sourire de notre société et en rire, lisez Le Ruyet !Vous ne connaissez pas ! Vous perdez beaucoup ! Un personnage essentiel si l’on veut connaître un tant soit peu la vie (pas si tranquille que cela) de nos villages, ses querelles, la vie chloroformée de nos maisons de retraites ! Dans “Du rififi au gagatorium”, nous voilà embarqués pour une farce bouffonne au village de Kervraz ; tout le monde a son Kervraz, sa chapelle, son café, son jeune iroquois. Pas besoin de ramer longtemps, l’écriture enfle son courant jubilatoire jusqu’à faire sortir de ses gonds une petite vieille Maryannick Carréric qui ne tarde pas à faire le ménage au pays des actionnaires crapuleux de maisons de vieux .

Et si dans le train, vous êtes littéralement emporté par le courant dévastateur des mots et du rire, il est  superflu d’essayer de contrôler ses zygomatiques car les situations vont rebondir et vous secouer en cascades à la ligne suivante : L’auteur  jongle sur les mots alors que Maryannic Carréric, la petite vieille s’active, montée sur ses ressorts.

A retenir : “Du Rififi au Gagatorium” d’André Le Ruyet ; contact par   le biais de l’Association des écrivains bretons.

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So I logged in 20 minutes late yesterday, only to find my Naxxramas spot had been filled. Serves me right, as I beleve in keeping schedules or else run the risk of losing out. It was a little pity though, since we only had Sapphiron and Kel’Thuzad left. On the other hand this gave me the opportunity to do some questing. I will down those two with Rififi soon enough anyway.

As I know have entered Ulduar on my main Devilhoof, there is a lot of new content to experience. New areas and new encounters are uplifting, and makes it fun to play. When I now fly around Storm Peaks with Rififi, on my brand new epic carpet thank you very much (slow flying actually made me cry), I notice another aspect that heightens my gaming experience. I get reminded once again about the history around these new encounters. Yesterday I got to meet Thorim, and help him mend the relationship with King Jokkum and the sons of Hodir. I got to see Veranus before she got twisted into Razorscale. At a point where I did not care that much about reading the quest text anymore, because I already done it once, I now feel that I get a better understanding for the overall history. It is kind of watching a film you already seen – you get to notice the little things that you did not see the first time. I love it, and yesterday the game grew for me once again.

Because of this, I got the quest achievment that told me I was done with Storm Peaks without knowing I was that close. So now I should get on to Icecrown – only, I am not done. I still have to watch Thorim try to take on Loken, and the events that follow. Good times!

Rather slow evening yesterday, but at least I got one step closer to aquiring the pattern for that nice caster dps cloak; Deathchill Cloak.

I enjoy spending a lot of time reading about different aspects of the game that can enhance my gaming experience. To me, enhancing the experience means setting an above ordinary goal, such as getting the Loremaster title for my main (not there quite yet) even it it can seem useless in terms of gaming advantages. In other cases, that goal can get me something that my toon can benefit from. Such as the pattern for the Deathchill cloak, which you get as a reward for completing the Loremaster of Northrend achievment. Yesterday I had a small achievement rain when I first finished the Nesingwary quest line, then got to explore all of Scholazar Basin and finally finished the required number of quests for the area. I actually chose not to do the finishing quest from the avatar of Freya where you get to travel through the rainy portal to Un’goro crater to check out what has happened to the watchers that were left there by the makers. It is a really nice chunk of lore right there, and I recommend anyone to do it at least once – it is actually building up to the events that take place in Ulduar. Since I have done it on Devilhoof and still do not have an epic flyer, I decided to push forward in my Deathchill pursuit instead.

As of now, I only need Storm Peaks and Icecrown to get my hands on that pattern – which will be about the time one of my guildies reaches that goal as well, making it somewhat redundant. No matter, I like being able to see to my own needs in the game whenever possible. It remains to be seen whether or not I will have the patience to grind Hodir reputation for Rififi. She is an Inscriber, and therefore has access to the best shoulder enchant in the game as it is, but getting exalted with Hodir gets you the pattern for those 22 slot bags that are really nice to have. And on top of that I learned that the Kul’uak now sells a pattern for a humongous herb bag that I also want. One really has to salute Blizzard for introducing these “got to have” things in the game that keeps you going. If I ever have the patience to level Rififi’s fishing skill, the only fishing pole I ever want (for now at least) is also sold by those nice walrus people, which makes that slightly more interesting for me. From a business standpoint the Hodir bag pattern is probably better to go after though, since the market potential is bigger. Wonder what Gevlon would do? Probably neither – he would find a more profitable way to spend his time.

Well, looks like I have enough time sinks to last me a while yet. I just hope I do not lose interest from the repetition.

Who is cooler than Lee Marvin, anyway?

A series of noir and neo-noir films are being featured by Criterion  right now.

FOX studios has a noir series.

Warner Brothers does too.

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L’arrivée dans certaines villes de travailleurs immigrés musulmans venus de Somalie a suscité la méfiance des autres communautés à leur encontre, plus particulièrement celle des Latinos.

Reportage du New York Times à Grand Island, dans le Nebraska.

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Source: http://www.courrierinternational.com/article.asp?obj_id=90912

Cinque anni dopo Il mercante di Venezia, Al Pacino torna a collaborare con Michael Radford per un nuovo adattamento di un’opera di William Shakespeare, King Lear. Radford ha curato la sceneggiatura del film, le cui riprese inizieranno entro la fine dell’anno e si svolgeranno in Europa.

Nonostante abbia già interpretato numerosi personaggi shakespeariani, Pacino non aveva mai accettato il ruolo di Re Lear – un sovrano che si ritrova a dividere il suo regno tra le sue tre figlie – semplicemente perchè non si sentiva pronto, come ha rivelato il produttore Barry Navidi: “Adesso però può interpretare questo ruolo. Radford ha scritto un adattamento molto convincente, la cui impronta classica ricorda quello de Il Mercante di Venezia, e sia io che Al Pacino abbiamo accettato subito di lavorare con lui“

Dopo Sfida senza regole – Righteous Kill, Al Pacino dovrebbe tornare sul set per interpretare Salvador Dalì in una biopic sull’artista spagnolo e un remake di Rififi, il poliziesco diretto da Jules Dassin negli anni ‘50, ma non si sa quale di questi progetti sarà il primo ad andare in produzione.

www.movieplayer.it

Although there is much that is endearing in the work of Leone, nothing has left its mark as completely as his sense of sound.  It is not just his rather extreme use of dubbing, where every character seems immense and impossibly near, that gives his use of sound its uniqueness.  Indeed, the tactic is remarkably ambiguous, taking the viewer from the pole of excitement and agitation at the vocal depth and emotiveness of each speaker, to the other pole of mere foreign-film parody, a laughable hash-up of dubbed kung fu flicks and their curious translations that never feel adequate.

Adequacy is a good term for it, because the dubbing work leaves the viewer with a constant experience of the inadequate, the sense that the speaker and their word are separate and in some ways autonomous.  In ‘Once upon a time in the West,’ the voices are matched in their autonomy by the uncanny playing of the harmonica, which seems to come from nowhere and yet is so loud as to be everywhere.  It is this feature of directionless and omnipresent, though, that Leone uses to great affect in the other sounds.  Not just the music, which is brilliant to be sure, but in the buzzing of the fly and dripping water that opens the film.  It is the interest in the minute distraction that marks Leone’s use and might be considered the systematic principle for his sound.  The voices must be ever so slightly off, too real and thus unreal, too close and thus artificial.  The fly must be nowhere and invisible so its buzzing can be everywhere, overwhelming, all-consuming.  The mournful playing of the harmonica is always off-screen, even when it is displayed explicitly, in the same way the telephone in ‘Once upon a time in America’ rings even after picked up, as if the sounds and their referents are always somewhere else.  Sound is not, indeed, representing anything, but speaking of its own world, which is all the more vibrant because it is a different world than the one seen, much as the sea is heard by merely staring at a painting.  This inadequacy is not merely felt as an accident, but becomes something of substance in the work, as if the world is always out of joint.  And perhaps this reference to Hamlet is apropos, for each movie begins seemingly with the arrival of the ghost, as if each movie must be put in play by some deus ex machina that awaits being put right in the last scene.

Tt would be wrong to make the sound omnipresent without pointing out his great love of silence, which is the mark of any true appreciation of sound.  Long panning shots of the desert and long stretches without a single auditory interruption are essential to his works, evidence of the great control Leone had and the care for his material.  The silence, though, is not a fetish with Leone; there are no scenes such as in ‘A Band of Outsiders’ where the effect is to shock or unnerve the viewer, nor as in ‘There Will be Blood’ where the scene is silent though indifferently, equally capable of having music or sound as not.  It is more the silence of ‘Rififi’ or even ‘Pulp Fiction,’ in the scene where Willis returns by backways to his apartment; it is silent because there can be no music and where every sound is a threat, dangerous and invasive.  The scenes are comparable to Leone’s opening scene, with the three assassins coming upon the station agent.  Every word the agent says reverberates and strikes the viewer as too loud, too piercing, much as every car that passes spells doom in ‘Rififi.’

In a sense, the beauty of Leone’s work is only seen alongside something like ‘There Will be Blood,’ where everything that Leone took such care to underplay becomes fetishized and made easily-digestable.  The silent characters that are the forte of Leone, where an Eastwood or a Bronson gain all their power from their presence and the ambiance of their world and the understatedness of their acting, instead collapses into the sometimes-sullen, sometimes-frenetic Day-Louis who feels he must own every moment.  The silence that Leone handles with such care is given often and with little forethought, alongside the affective but often unexpected and misleading music of Greenwood.  Alongside such a work, Leone’s accomplishment stands out because of its sense of itself, much as the quiet and bombast of Orff’s ‘Carmina Burana’ shows to more clearly the subtlety and care of that same interplay of quiet and bombast in Mahler’s ‘Dad Lied von der Erde.’

Kitsch brings out art, much against art’s will, by showing how fragile is art’s bonds, how easily they can be torn or, worse, overdone so as to make a piece of art into a parody, as one often feels reading the early Pinter.  The danger of too much or not enough is constant, and Leone never seems capable of avoiding the extremes entirely, not least notable in the staggering length of his works.  But it is truly a wonder to watch, not least because if ever there were a director whose work seemed directed towards parody and mere mimesis, it is Leone.  It might be fitting to say that the inadequacy and out-of-jointness he achieves in the music and often in his narratives is an apt metaphor to his relation to the western in general: it is not too much, and neither too little, nor is it just right.  It is off, and it benefits all the more for it.

É dia de planejar cuidadosamente os tops. Estudar a estrutura, desconfiar dos integrantes e mandar tudo pra puta que pariu ao menor sinal de traição. Compareça a 18th street, tenha cuidado pra não ser seguido, peça fogo ao homem que está amarrando os sapatos, e poste o seu top nos comentários.

Top! do Leitor:

Caio Lucas

Guy Ritchie é o rei.

01. Snatch – Porcos e Diamantes (Guy Ritchie, 2000)
02. Jogos, Trapaças e Dois Canos Fumegantes (Guy Ritchie, 1998)
03. Tragam-me a Cabeça de Alfredo Garcia (Sam Peckinpah, 1973)
04. Cães de Aluguel (Quentin Tarantino, 1992)
05. Um Dia de Cão (Sidney Lumet, 1975)
06. O Grande Lebowski (Irmãos Coen, 1998)
07. Duro de Matar (John McTiernan, 1988)
08. Meu Ódio Será Sua Herança (Sam Peckinpah, 1969)
09. O Homem Que Não Estava Lá (Irmãos Coen, 2001)
10. Gosto de Sangue (Irmãos Coen, 1984)

Tops! da Equipe:

Daniel Dalpizzolo

Procurei deixar de fora os mais abstratos (o que exclui pelo menos dois dos que lutariam pelo podium), exceto Carmen e Bang Bang, e também os que se misturam com outros gêneros fortes, como noir e western (embora alguns considerem filmes como O Segredo das Jóias e Rififi noir, o que é questionável dependendo do ponto de vista que se tem acerca da definição de gênero). Alguns belos filmes sobre o tema ficaram de fora (e aí vale lembrar que Lumet voltou este ano com uma interessantíssima revitalização dos filmes de golpe e que é um de seus melhores filmes).

01. Armadilha a Sangue Frio (Joseph Losey, 1960)
02. A Força do Mal (Abraham Polonsky, 1948)
03. Carmen (Jean-Luc Godard, 1982)
04. Bang Bang (Andrea Tonacci, 1970)
05. Os Implacáveis (Sam Peckinpah, 1973)
06. O Segredo das Jóias (John Huston, 1950)
07. Rififi (Jules Dassin, 1955)
08. Mortalmente Perigosa (Joseph H. Lewis, 1950)
09. O Grande Golpe (Stanley Kubrick, 1956)
10. O Quinteto da Morte (Alexander Mackendrick, 1955)

Pedro Kerr

Ficou foda mesmo, consegui fazer o meu, mas achei meio estranho. Mas engraçado desse é que praticamente quase todos os filmes dos Coen se encaixam aqui, heheh. (enquanto eu tentava lembrar aqui eu pensei num gênero assim que pudesse cair depois, “mans in a mission”, definição by Tarantino, hehehe).

01. Meu Ódio Será Sua Herança (Sam Peckinpah, 1969)
02. Rabid Dogs (Mario Bava, 1974)
03. Cães de Aluguel (Quentin Tarantino, 1992)
04. O Grande Lebowski (Irmãos Coen, 1998)
05. Por Uns Dólares a Mais (Sergio Leone, 1965)
06. Um Dia de Cão (Sidney Lumet, 1975)
07. Duro de Matar (John McTiernan, 1988)
08. O Grande Golpe (Stanley Kubrick, 1956)
09. Arizona Nunca Mais (Irmãos Coen, 1987)
10. Colateral (Michael Mann, 2004)

Picture the scene….. The FED EX plane you’re travelling in has been struck by lightning, causing it to plunge into the ocean. You get washed up on the beach of a nearby island which is apparently without habitants. Instead of a football for company you find a 50 inch plasma TV with attached DVD player which was miraculously wrapped in waterproof packaging. Somehow you discover a power supply and are delighted that 10 movies have escaped unscathed in the over the shoulder folder holder you had on your person at the time of the tragedy.

These are the 10 films that will prevent you going insane whilst you wait for McDonalds to discover this is the one place they don’t have a restaurant….

My picks are:

REAR WINDOW, Alfred Hitchcock (1954)

THE BIG LEBOWSKI, Joel & Ethan Coen (1998)

2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, Stanley Kubrick (1968)

HEAVEN CAN WAIT, Ernst Lubitsch (1943)

MEAN STREETS, Martin Scorsese (1973)

MANHATTAN, Woody Allen (1979)

RASHOMON, Akira Kurosawa (1950)

RIFIFI, Jules Dassin (1955)

IF…., Lindsay Anderson (1968)

PAN’S LABYRINTH, Guillermo Del Toro (2006)

This was a really hard thing to do, and the selections could well change as I think about it more. There’s no Welles, Antonioni, Bergman, Ozu, Lynch, Powell & Pressburger…. God, the list is huge. These are the 10 films that tick as many boxes as possible whilst being infinitely watchable. I also think that each of these 10 films gives you something very different, from the half an hour of silence during the robery scene in Rififi to the technicolor joy of HEAVEN CAN WAIT. Although there are many other top ten lists that could be made, these movies would keep me going for a LONG time.

Although this post could be considered cliche, arbitrary or even downright lazy, there are rules…..

Trilogies are allowed, maximum of 4 (no more than a trilogy though, so you can’t select the POLICE ACADEMY series, not that you would…. I hope)
TV shows aren’t.
Box sets aren’t (unless it’s specifically a trilogy)
I say DVD, this of course includes blu ray. (That’s for Matt, the high def philistine )

So over to you good people. The ten movies that would keep you happy in times of hardship, let’s have it.

A atmosfera épica de Le Cercle Rouge é suficientemente vasta para compreender tanto este neo-noir pintado pela óptica metódica de Melville quanto o próprio gênero de sombras e fumaça fundado do outro lado do Atlântico. São mais de duas horas de elegância, beleza, emoldurações frame-a-frame com precisão matemática e muito, muito pessimismo, assumido aliás como discurso explícito.

Já disse no post do Un Flic mas repetir não custa, até porque nenhum outro traz este elemento tão evidente quanto O Círculo Vermelho: os personagens de Jean-Pierre Melville suplantam sua humanidade pelos dogmas e pela moral do seu trabalho, e é exatamente pelas vias dessa mecânica profissional que, sempre, ao fim de tudo, é necessário o sangue incandescente, como apenas o homem possui, para mover essas engrenagens. Porque a maldade, a ambição e as rotas da traição acabam entregando que são apenas fracos e suscetíveis seres humanos os que se escondem sob as máquinas que desfilam sempre tão imponentes de sobretudos ao longo dos noirs de Melville.

Levando a doutrina de Jules Dassin debaixo do braço, Melville volta a filmar o tempo real com lentes forjadas do hipnotismo. São 25 minutos de assalto a uma joalheria (e o estilo todo do diretor é perpetrado pela contemplação tributária à ação da cena, mas este é sempre o melhor exemplo) que, embora não tencionem reproduzir a mesma e quase insuportável tensão dramática de Rififi, prendem o espectador com uma linha invisível da pura mágica que o mestre francês faz com a câmera e o som, amplificado aqui ao terreno de uma bem orquestrada sucessão, simplesmente, de passos, portas fechando, ferramentas funcionando.

Admiro profundamente quem consegue fazer tanto com, aparentemente, tão pouco. Com a quase inexistência de artifícios aos quais um cineasta comodamente pode recorrer pra seqüências bacanudas e planos ishpertos. O mesmo ocorre com Alain Delon, que sendo o mesmo Edouard Coleman ou Jeff Costello, ainda sem mover um músculo do rosto, consegue ser simplesmente perfeito, insubstituível. Pode ser no modo de olhar, de se mover, de falar, pouco importa… Delon é brilhante sem precisar de um milímetro de esforço pra tanto, e insinuar que seja menor ator por isso é qualquer coisa à qual eu ainda darei nome no meio de um estado de fúria durante uma próxima goleada que o meu time sofra no Gre-nal.

De qualquer forma, obra-prima (outra…) do francês, embora menor que O Samurai e Expresso Para Bordeaux, mais pela inspiração encantada que os governa do que qualquer eventual demérito do Le Cercle Rouge. Mas algo é preciso deixar claro: independente da ordem, o filme do círculo é o que até agora melhor representa este casamento entre o minimalismo de Melville e a depressão do film noir clássico pra composição de uma identidade mais sólida que nunca pro noir europeu, algo digno de ser documentado pra posterioridade, tratado ilustrativo de uma visão cética e talvez mais realista que pessimista sobre as motivações humanas, porque, pra Melville, todos os homens, sem qualquer exceção, terminam sob o alvo iridescente de um círculo vermelho.

4/4

Luis Henrique Boaventura

Nada mais apropriado, após um especial cujo tema é por natureza recorrente à tragédia e à melancolia, que os mais densos e dolorosos sentimentos humanos fossem elencados, na forma de um top 10, por esse gênero que guarda, às vezes mais discreta, outras mais saliente, a tristeza como pedra angular da sua arquitetura. Como sempre, primeiro top nos comentários sobe aqui pra cima.

Top! do Leitor:

Fábio Rockenbach

Tops! da Equipe:

Daniel Dalpizzolo

Como o noir é vasto e normalmente incorporado a outros estilos preferi citar apenas aqueles genuinamente noirs, os que eu apresentaria a alguém que tivesse interesse de conhecer exemplos diretos das características do gênero. Grandes filmes ficaram de fora, mas além de ser mais condizente com a proposta, faz com que eu fique menos insatisfeito com as ausências. E a lista, mesmo assim, só tem obra-prima, obviamente o critério base de qualquer top.

01. No Silêncio da Noite (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
02. A Marca da Maldade (Orson Welles, 1958)
03. A Morte Num Beijo (Robert Aldrich, 1956)
04. Cinzas Que Queimam (Nicholas Ray, 1951)
05. Almas Perversas (Fritz Lang, 1945)
06. Império do Crime (Joseph H. Lewis, 1955)
07. Laura (Otto Preminger, 1944)
08. O Beijo Amargo (Samuel Fuller, 1964)
09. Curva do Destino (Edgar G. Ulmer, 1945)
10. Fuga do Passado (Jacques Tourneur, 1947)

Thiago Duarte

Acho que tirando Chinatown, nenhum outro da minha lista pode ser chamado de um noir genuíno, daquele incontestável e até o talo. Todos podem tranquilamente ser enquadrados em outros gêneros, e vá lá pra suspense, romance, ficção, etc. Mas como é lista de favoritos, não me preocupei em me apegar exclusivamente a definição de noir por gênero, mas sim em filmes que, entre outras coisas, preservam a alma desse estilo.

01. De Olhos Bem Fechados (Stanley Kubrick, 1999)
02. Cidade dos Sonhos (David Lynch, 2001)
03. O Homem que Não Estava Lá (Joel Coen, 2001)
04. Seven (David Fincher, 1995)
05. Mistérios e Paixões (David Cronenberg, 1991)
06. Sin City (Robert Rodriguez, 2005)
07. Blow Up (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1966)
08. Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982)
09. Oldboy (Chan-wook Park, 2004)
10. Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974)

Pedro Kerr

01. O Beijo Amargo (Samuel Fuller, 1964)
02. No Silêncio da Noite (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
03. Pacto de Sangue (Billy Wilder, 1944)
04. À Beira do Abismo (Howard Hawks, 1946)
05. A Dama de Shanghai (Orson Welles, 1947)
06. Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974)
07. A Sombra de uma Dúvida (Alfred Hitchcock, 1943)
08. A Marca da Maldade (Orson Welles, 1958)
09. O Grande Golpe (Stanley Kubrick, 1956)
10. O Falcão Maltês (John Huston, 1941)

Djonata Ramos

01. Poderoso Chefão (Francis Ford Coppola, 1971)
02. Fogo Contra Fogo (Michael Mann, 1995)
03. Bons Companheiros (Martin Scorsese, 1992)
04. Era Uma Vez na America (Sergio Leone, 1984)
05. No Silêncio da Noite (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
06. Crepúsculo dos Deuses (Billy Wilder, 1950)
07. Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942)
08. Oldboy (Chan-Wook Park, 2003)
09. Os Intocáveis (Brian de Palma, 1987)
10. Dália Negra (Brian de Palma, 2006)

Adney Silva

Hollywood na sua chamada ‘Era de Ouro” teve os musicais como um dos seus maiores símbolos, Mas, á sombra desses filmes, surgia também o mais autoral e, por que não dizer, o mais “sujo” gênero cinematográfico, que, tal qual os filmes de terror, irrompeu das profundezas para influenciar um sem-número de filmes e diretores. Por conta dessa influência, algumas pessoas podem estranhar a presença de alguns filmes na minha lista.

01. A Marca da Maldade (Orson Welles, 1956)
02. Pacto de Sangue (Billy Wilder, 1945)
03. O Falcão Maltês (John Huston, 1941)
04. Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974)
05. O Homem Errado (Alfred HItchcock, 1956)
06. No Silêncio da Noite (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
07. Operação França (Willian Friendkin, 1973)
08. Bonnie & Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1968)
09. A Dama no Lago (Robert Montgomery, 1947)
10. Prisioneiro do Passado (Delmer Daves, 1949)

They observed it on filmspotting, and it’s absolutely true: nobody does “cool” like the french, maybe because they don’t even seem to try. Tony (dit: le Stéphanois) isn’t cool at all if you hear the description: he’s just spent 5 years in jail, he has a nasty cough, he beats his former girl with a belt (ouch), and during the magnificent, achingly tense heist at the center of this movie, his forehead is glistening with nervous sweat.

But cool? That he is, indubitably, maybe even because of his all-too-obvious humanity. He’s cool because even when he’s so stressed out, he never pauzes to wipe the beads of sweat off, and he never succumbs to the temptation to talk, make a joke, whatever: like in the heist scene in Le Cercle Rouge, not a word is spoken. Everyone knows exactly what they should do when, and while it takes longer than they had planned, they just keep on working.

Of course, seeing the heist being prepared and pulled off, that’s just half of the fun of heist movies. The other half is seeing how it will all go wrong in the end (those who consider that a spoiler probably haven’t seen any heist films from that period). Like in The Killing, and even, to a certain extent, Le Cercle Rouge, the weak point of the enterprise is indicated early on: “on dit que dans le monde, il n’y a pas un coffre qui puisse resister à César, ni aucune femme à qui César puisse resister”: in the whole world, there’s not a safe that can resist Cesar… nor a woman Cesar can resist”. There you have it: the one weak spot that will make everything unravel, and seeing it unravel – including another instance of Tony being very, very cool – is a pleasure to behold.

There really are many pleasures in this film, including the lovely musical number of which you can see an image here. It’s interesting, how an American in exile managed to capture the french atmosphere and mood so well, while at the same time staying within the confines of one of the prototypical American genres. I don’t mean the heist film in particular, but more generally the gangster movie , which would later inspire many leaders of the french new wave, which would, in turn, influence some seminal American films from the sixties.

Ok. Now: back to Infinite Jest, before my lounging-around-and-doing-nothing time is up!

Jean Servais som Tony le Stéphanois.

Jag har ett minne av att ha sett Rififi på tv för en ohygglig massa år sedan, men hade glömt i princip allt utom själva inbrottet. Därför var det väldigt trevligt att se om den på en fräsch dvd-utgåva och konstatera att inte bara inbrottet utan hela filmen står sig väldigt väl.

I centrum står Tony, spelad av Jean Servais som gör honom till en hårding med något sorgset över sig. Tony har just kommit ut från kåken och upptäcker att hans gamla flamma, Mado, numera kilar med klubbägaren Pierre Grutter. När hans gamla kompanjon Jo föreslår en kupp mot en juvelerarbutik accepterar Tony, men han modifierar planen – istället för att bara sikta på grejorna i skyltfönstret ska gänget ge sig på att plundra kassaskåpet.

Tonys metod är betydligt mer komplicerad, men efter att vi har fått ta del av gängets förarbete följer den klassiska, 28 minuter långa inbrottsscenen som utspelas under total tystnad – varken dialog eller musik bryter koncentrationen. Rififi brukar anses vara filmen som alla moderna kuppfilmer står i tacksamhetsskuld till, och det beror på inbrottssekvensen. (Faktum är att filmen till och med satte avtryck i språket: det är härifrån ordet ‘rififikupp‘ kommer.)

Som Roger Ebert påpekat skulle själva kuppen ha utgjort filmens klimax i en modern rulle. Nu kommer den någonstans i mitten, varefter berättelsen går vidare med det bittra efterspelet. Kassaskåpsexperten César – spelad av regissören Jules Dassin själv men under pseudonym – kan inte låta bli att ge bort en diamantring från kuppen till en sångerska på Pierre Grutters klubb, vilket sätter fart på en blodig händelsekedja.

Filmen är cirka två timmar lång men känns inte utdragen alls – tvärtom är det spännande och intressant hela vägen. Jean Servais har en smått magnetisk utstrålning, och filmen hämtar massor av stämning ur det vackra svartvita fotot av ett nattligt Paris. Rekommenderas helhjärtat!

Andra bloggar om dvd, film, film noir, rififi

Hooray for Mondays.

* Yesterday we went to New York to see After Nature at the New Museum and Rififi—the film that singlehandedly gave birth to the very idea of French film noir, according to a quote Ryan saw in the newspaper—at the Film Forum’s French Crime Wave series. I officially pronounce both things Worth Doing™, with an extra-special deliciousness shout-out to Kate’s Joint at 58 Avenue B in the East Village.

* Rest in peace, Isaac Hayes.

* YouTube video tribute to Jack Kirby, king of comics. Via MeFi.

* I’ve already made what I consider the definitive comment on election polling, but in case you need more I recommend Matthew Yglesias’s post today on tracking polls:

Or maybe none of that happened. As everyone knows, there’s sampling error associated with polling. As a result, if you poll 1,000 people on August 1 and then you poll 1,000 different people on August 2 you shouldn’t be surprised to see the results differ by several percentage points even in the absence of any change in the underlying public opinion. Beyond that, doing one poll per day throughout a long campaign would mean that you’d expect to see one or two relatively rare outlier results per month even under circumstances of total stasis. And as Alan Abramowitz points out if you look at the daily results this is actually what you see — incredible volatility with Obama’s lead oscillating violently around an average of 3-4 points. Since it’s not plausible that the public mood is really swinging anywhere near as rapidly as a very naive reading of the Gallup daily results would suggest, people could see that this is basically statistical noise in a stable race.

But Gallup doesn’t report its daily results, they report a multi-day rolling average. Abramowitz notes that if you report a ten day rolling average, you get a chart where nothing happens — Obama maintains a flat lead of 3-4 points. Again, a stable race. But if instead of doing either of those things you do what Gallup actually does and report a three day rolling average, you get these pleasant looking peaks and valleys in the race. The change over time here is large enough in magnitude (unlike on the ten day chart) but also slow enough in pace (unlike on the one day chart) to be plausibly interpreted as public opinion shifting in response to events. And since the human mind is designed to recognize patterns and construct narratives, and since it suits the interests of campaign journalists to write narratives, people interpret the peaks and valleys of the three day average as real shifts in public opinion. But while I have no way of proving that it’s just statistical noise and nothing’s really happening, the “nothing happening” narrative is completely consistent with the data, and it’s telling that the conventional narratives collapse when the data is presented in different ways whereas the “noise” narrative is consistent with multiple ways of displaying the information.

I’ll only add that given the extent to which polls serve as a bulwark for functional democracy and accountable elections, the increasing sensationalization of polls as a means to drive news ratings rather than to reliably monitor public opinion is a very, very disturbing trend.

Polls should be boring. They should be so boring no one cares what they say.

* And Jesse Taylor has the best hypothetical history of the presidential primary I’ve seen:

Any number of things could have swayed the primary. But at the end of the day, Clinton apologizing for her Iraq vote (or just not having voted that way in the first place) would have guaranteed her the nomination. Or her running for Senate in Illinois.

I really think that’s right. If she’d decided to run for Senate in Illinois rather than New York, she’d have had it.

Dassin na frente de um espelho “hm, a cena do roubo deve ser especial… que trilha será que eu uso? Que diálogos, meu Deus?… Como farei pra criar o clima de tensão necess… OPA! Mas que caralho eu tô pensando? O que pode ser mais tenso do que fazer do espectador um dos membros do grupo, enclausurando-o no silêncio e no processo exato da ação? Ah, seu gênio filho da mãe…” e daí que a meia hora do assalto à joalheria merece uma cadeira de 4 créditos em qualquer faculdade de cinema. Nada poderia tornar a cena mais sufocante do que deixá-la virgem, bruta, utilizando do mínimo de elementos fílmicos possível para preservar a tensão natural que, de todo modo, o ato de um roubo arriscado provoca.

Mas Rififi é bem mais que o assalto, que na verdade fecha na primeira metade do filme. É um noir de um charme europeu incomparável, um amargo tratado sobre a decadência, da memória morrente daquele homem deslocado do seu tempo. Mais que o dinheiro, Stéphanois precisa provar-se útil e convencer a si mesmo de que pode vencer o homem que ficou com sua mulher enquanto ele esteve na prisão. Não são as jóias, não é a criança. É a necessidade incondicional que faz da morte de Grutter praticamente uma cura para este câncer que corrói o orgulho de um homem numa época em que a palavra “honra” ainda não havia tido seu significado anestesiado.

E mesmo que o assalto seja espetacular e tudo mais, os últimos cinco minutos são os meus favoritos. E o final é das coisas mais tristes do mundo, e inevitável, como ele bem sabia o tempo inteiro.

4/4

Luis Henrique Boaventura

Darcy James Argue is a New York based composer that leads the truly sweet Secret Society Big Band which performs in and around NY. He writes all of the material for this 18 piece monster, and with it (said monster), he manages to create an original sound that still leaves plenty of space for monster members to add their own improvised contributions.

Here’s a great video of the monster in action.

In addition, he is a constant blogger of interesting thoughtful content, and was a major influence on me in the creation of this site. Check out his band’s blog here.

1: What got you into creative/improvised music making, and what keeps you there?

What got me into it? I played trumpet in the highschool bigband, but I was a really terrible trumpet player. Piano was a lot less frustrating — you put your finger down on the right key, and the note you want actually comes out. Every time. Not like trumpet. Playing piano also allowed me to listen more to the big picture, to what the whole band was playing. I very quickly got the idea, “Hmm, that doesn’t actually sound all that hard. I bet I could do that.”

What keeps me in it? Believe me, if it was remotely possible for me to do something other with my life than lead an 18-piece bigband, I’d do that. In a heartbeat.

2: Breakthrough album(s) and Why?

One record: Maria Schneider’s Evanescence. Especially the first tune, “Wyrgly.”

Why? Goddamn, just listen to that track, fercrissakes. For better or worse, “Wyrgly” convinced me that bigband wasn’t a dead end. No, more than that — it convinced me that a bigband could express the precise kind of forward-looking jazz I was interested in, and do it better than a smaller ensemble.

The juxtaposition of those climbing half-time shuffle figures grinding against the wispy, scattershot double-time stabs (about a minute into the tune) remains one of the most audacious rhythmic conceits I’ve ever heard. And that noise Ben Monder makes during his solo break is everyone’s favorite Ben Monder moment.

3: How do other art disciplines affect your work?

Storytelling is key. The difference between good musicians and great musicians is that great musicians are genius storytellers. Any other art that happens in real time — theatre, film, television, dance, standup comedy, spoken word, performance art — is (or should be) tremendously instructive for the creative musician. But ultimately, everything always comes back to storytelling.

4: Favorite Film(s)?

How long do you have? Okay… limiting myself to a desert island Top 10 list? Citizen Kane for its punkrock badassery (who the hell does that with their first movie?); The Big Sleep for being the definitive noir; Notorious for the camera + Ingrid Bergman; The Third Man for showing everyone how to really introduce a character; Seven Samurai for being the most awesomest epic movie ever; Rififi for merging French existentialism with the cynicism of a casualty of McCarthy, and also for that breathtaking heist scene; The Sweet Smell of Success for being the definitive New York City film (now and forever), and for actually using Chico Hamilton’s band; McCabe and Mrs. Miller for the ecstatic patience, for being filmed in my backyard, and for making Deadwood possible; The Godfather Part II for Fredo; Blue Velvet for Dean Stockwell; and Goodfellas for the obsessive attention to detail. (Yeah, okay, I realize that’s eleven. No, fuck you.)

5: Favorite Film Score(s)?

Oh come now. Okay, fine — I will limit myself to just two:

Psycho and Vertigo.

(See, that was easy.)

6: Favorite Fiction Reading?

Ever? Crime and Punishment, with David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest a close second.

Lately? Honestly, I need to find a much healthier balance between online reading/writing and dead-tree reading. The last novel I read that really killed me was Jonathan Lethem’s The Fortress of Solitude. At the moment I am (slowly) making my way through Against The Day (god, that one chapter with Webb Traverse and the railroad bridge is effing brilliant).

7: Favorite Non-Fiction Reading?

I am currently enjoying Rick Perlstein’s Nixonland, which already, in the first 100 pages, contains everything anyone needs to know about contemporary American politics. On deck is Jeremy Scahill’s Blackwater: The Rise of the World’s Most Powerful Mercenary Army.

8: Favorite Guilty Pleasure Music?

No such thing. Seriously. You might (justifiably) feel guilty about, like, cheating on your spouse, or betting your kid’s college fund on an online poker game. But feeling guilty about enjoying music? Life’s too short, dude.

9: Favorite Under Rated Musician(s)?

Oy. Um… Mary Lou Williams. George Russell. Booker Little. Jimmy Giuffre (still). Late Duke Ellington. Sun Ra and his inner circle. Thad Jones as a cornet player. Bob Brookmeyer as a valve trombone player. Mel Lewis. Lewis Taylor. Post-1970 Gil Evans. Henry Threadgill. Scott Robinson. Andrew D’Angelo.

10: Recommended Artist(s)/Shout Outs?

Sherisse Rogers. Joe Phillips. Matana Roberts. Todd Sickafoose. Corey Dargel. Everyone who has ever played a Secret Society gig or rehearsal.

A década americana por excelência chega ao Multiplot!, e com metade de filmes ‘estrangeiros’ no top 1. Participe também, compartilhe com a gente essa doentia obsessão por tops!. E como de costume, o primeiro nos comentários vem aqui pra cima.

Top! do Leitor:

Fábio Rockenbach

Tops! da Equipe

Sílvio Tavares

Diversificada e encrustrada de clássicos e temáticas complexas, a década de 50 constitui uma das mais belas épocas da história do cinema. Seja na face deslumbrante de Bette Davis no magnífico A Malvada, na inquietante femme fatale vivida por Gloria Swason no noir Crepúsculo dos Deuses, na filosofia peculiar da obra prima O Sétimo Selo, de Ingmar Bergman ou mesmo na simpatia expontânea de um jovem Jimmy Stewart contemplando um grande amigo (um coelho de 2 metros de altura invisível!), há uma convergência inevitável da magia da sétima arte para tal período. Pessoalmente aconselho muita atenção ao cinéfilo a essa maravilhosa época. Você se emocionará, roerá suas unhas de tensão e gargalhará alto com as diferentes e riquíssimas vertentes das obras nela contidas.

01. Rashomon (Akira Kurosawa, 1950)
02. Glória Feita de Sangue (Stanley Kubrick, 1957)
03. Harvey (Henry Koster, 1950)
04. Os Sete Samurais (Akira Kurosawa, 1954)
05. Crepúsculo dos Deuses (Billy Wilder, 1950)
06. O Sétimo Selo (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)
07. Um Corpo que Cai (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
08. A Ponte sobre o Rio Kwai (David Lean, 1957)
09. A Malvada (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1950)
10. Noites Brancas (Luchino Visconti, 1957)

Marcelo Dillenburg

A década de 1950 foi, essencialmente, todos contra Hitchcock. E por pouco, muito pouco, Hitch perdeu a primeira posição. Foi uma das decisões mais complicadas, as duas obras-primas de dois diretores que tinham uma visão sobre-humana para o enquadramento, o uso de claro e escuro, a composição de cena e a utilização do rosto de seus personagens. No fim, Kurosawa levou o topo. Mas Hitch emplacou três filmes entre os dez. Ah, e outra, me deu pena colocar Truffaut em sexto, mas não tinha como evitar, mesmo.

01. Os Sete Samurais (Akira Kurosawa, 1954)
02. Janela Indiscreta (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954)
03. Um Corpo que Cai (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
04. 12 Homens e uma Sentença (Sidney Lumet, 1957)
05. O Sétimo Selo (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)
06. Os Incompreendidos (François Truffaut, 1959)
07. Noites Brancas (Luchino Visconti, 1957)
08. Crepúsculo dos Deuses (Billy Wilder, 1950)
09. O Homem Errado (Alfred Hitchcock, 1956)
10. Ben-Hur (William Wyler, 1959)

Amílcar Figueiredo

Acabadas as férias, volto com a Década de 50, quase tão querida pra mim quanto a posterior. Aqui o American Way of Life choca-se frontalmente com a maneira que a Europa e o Japão encontraram para rever o impacto de suas próprias idéias, mais precisamente o custo delas em vidas humanas. Menos o eu, e mais o nós. Até hoje eu me identifico mais com essa segunda forma de ver a vida. Rápidas menções honrosas: Invasores de Corpos (Siegel), O Prazer (Ophüls), Cantando na Chuva (Donen e Kelly), Crepúsculo dos Deuses (Wilder), Palavras ao Vento (Sirk).

01. Os Incompreendidos (François Truffaut, 1959)
02. O Mensageiro do Diabo (Charles Laughton, 1955)
03. As Noites de Cabíria (Federico Fellini, 1957)
04. O Batedor de Carteiras (Robert Bresson, 1959)
05. Nazarín (Luis Buñuel, 1959)
06. Um Corpo que Cai (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
07. Oharu – A Vida de Uma Cortesã (Kenji Mizogushi, 1952)
08. O Sétimo Selo (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)
09. Anatomia de um Crime (Otto Preminger, 1959)
10. Os Sete Samurais (Akira Kurosawa, 1954)

Djonata Ramos

Complicadíssimo. Os 4 primeiros, na realidade, não têm ordem de preferência, eu fui jogando uma moeda e ordenando, tanto faz ali quem fica na frente de quem, todos são obras-primas maravilhosas, coisa do diabo mesmo.

01. Janela Indiscreta (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954)
02. Noites Brancas (Luchino Visconti, 1957)
03. No Silêncio da Noite (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
04. Crepúsculo dos Deuses (Billy Wilder, 1950)
05. Onde Começa o Inferno (Howard Hawks, 1959)
06. 12 Homens e uma Sentença (Sidney Lumet, 1957)
07. Alice no País das Maravilhas (Clyde Geronimi e
Wilfred Jackson, 1951)
08. Rastros de Ódio (John Ford, 1956)
09. Sindicato de Ladrões (Elia Kazan, 1954)
10. Um Corpo que Cai (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)

Pedro Kerr

Uma década que eu gostaria de explorar mais, ver todos os lados (três filmes a mais, três filmes a menos mudam tudo, fazer tops é uma arte, hehe). Mas o que já vi já torna a época peculiar e interessante, tanto que se vários diretores se repetem. A maioria é fera mesmo.

01. Onde Começa o Inferno (Howard Hawks, 1959)
02. Rastros de Ódio (John Ford, 1956)
03. No Silêncio da Noite (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
04. Um Corpo Que Cai (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
05. Johnny Guitar (Nicholas Ray, 1955)
06. O Grande Golpe (Stanley Kubrick, 1956)
07. Crepúsculo dos Deuses (Billy Wilder, 1950)
08. Os Incompreendidos (François Truffaut, 1959)
09. Intriga Internacional (Alfred Hitchcock, 1959)
10. Era Uma Vez em Tóquio (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953)

Daniel Dalpizzolo

Poderia ter fechado a lista somente com policiais e faroestes, são os dois melhores gêneros do cinema e juntos provavelmente digam respeito a pelo menos 50% do que há de mais incrível nessa que foi a grande década do cinema norte-americano – nada mais natural do que os dois gêneros mais típicos dos EUA e dos mais característicos da época serem destaque. Infelizmente, tanto de um quanto do outro lado a lista ficou pouco expressiva, ainda mais por ter conseguido colocar apenas dois faroestes. Mas tinha que dar espaços a alguns filmes de fora dessa esfera, não teve jeito. Depois faço algumas considerações nos comentários.

01. No Silêncio da Noite (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
02. Onde Começa o Inferno (Howard Hawks, 1959)
03. A Marca da Maldade (Orson Welles, 1958)
04. O Quimono Escarlate (Samuel Fuller, 1959)
05. A Noite do Demônio (Jacques Tourneur, 1957)
06. A Morte Num Beijo (Robert Aldrich, 1955)
07. O Pequeno Rincão de Deus (Anthony Mann, 1958)
08. Assim Estava Escrito (Vincent Minnelli, 1952)
09. Salário do Medo (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1953)
10. Bom Dia, Tristeza (Otto Preminger, 1958)

Cassius Abreu

Uma década sobre a qual ainda tenho muito a conhecer, mas que marca o ápice de Bergman e David Lean, uma grande fase de Billy Wilder e Hitchock, o lançamento de um dos maiores cineastas franceses de todos os tempos, con e o Chaplin melancolicamente falante e tem o único do Buñuel que eu vi – dizem que é o mais normal e mesmo assim é brilhante.

01. O Sétimo Selo (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)
02. Crepúsculo dos Deuses (Billy Wilder, 1950)
03. A Montanha dos Sete Abutres (Billy Wilder, 1951)
04. A Ponte do Rio Kwai (David Lean, 1957)
05. Um Corpo que Cai (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
06. Os Sete Samurais (Akira Kurosawa, 1954)
07. Robinson Crusoé (Luis Buñuel, 1954)
08. Luzes da Ribalta (Charles Chaplin, 1952)
09. Disque M Para Matar (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954)
10. Os Incompreendidos (François Truffaut, 1959)

Adney Silva

A fase de ouro do “Mestre do Suspense” na Universal; a fase final do cinema noir e do faroeste (gerando obras fantásticas); Chaplin flertando com o cinema falado, gerando uma das obras mais comoventes dos últimos tempos; a grande disputa no Oscar de 1950 entre dois filmes que criticavam ácidamente duas das maiores indústrias do entreterimento norte-americano na época (Hollywood e Broadway); Lumet e Preminger abordando o mundo dos tribunais de forma memorável; o musical norte-americano através do ícone Gene Kelly, gerando uma das obras mais memoráveis e lembradas do cinema; Kurosawa colocando o mundo dos samurais na vanguarda cinematográfica; David Lean revisitando magistralmente a Segunda Guerra; Bergman nos fazendo dialogar com a Morte através de um jogo de xadrez… Isso é uma tortura!!! Já citei mais de 10 filmes nesse texto!!!!! Vou ter que deixar algum de fora, mas qual??? [desesperado]

Perceberam o porquê dessa década ser uma das mais complicadas (senão a mais complicada) de fazer um top 10?

01. Crepúsculo dos Deuses (Billy Wilder, 1950)
02. A Marca da Maldade (Orson Welles, 1957)
03. No Silêncio da Noite (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
04. Os Sete Samurais (Akira Kurosawa, 1954)
05. Luzes da Ribalta (Charles Chaplin, 1952)
06. Doze Homens e Uma Sentença (Sidney Lumet, 1957)
07. Anatomia de um Crime (Otto Preminger, 1959)
08. A Tortura do Silêncio (Alfred Hitchcock, 1953)
09. Cantando na Chuva (Stanley Donen/Gene Kelly, 1952)
10. O Sétimo Selo (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)

Thiago Macêdo Correia

A década derradeira da old hollywood, digna dos últimos grandes músicais da MGM, grandes estudos de personagens baseados na literatura (Um Lugar ao Sol, Uma Rua Chamada Pecado), grandes momentos de observação da própria arte (Crepúsculo dos Deuses, A Malvada). Mas é também a década do nascimento artístico de alguns gênios, como Fellini, Bergman e Resnais, e reafirmação da maestria de gênios anteriores, como Wilder (em seus melhores momentos, foi difícil colocar somente um filme), Ford e Hawks.

01. Noites de Cabíria (Federico Fellini, 1957)
02. Cantando na Chuva (Stanley Donen, Gene Kelly, 1952)
03. O Mensageiro do Diabo (Charles Laughton, 1955)
04. Quanto Mais Quente Melhor (Billy Wilder, 1959)
05. Rastros de Ódio (John Ford, 1956)
06. O Sétimo Selo (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)
07. Os Sete Samurais (Akira Kurosawa, 1954)
08. Hiroshima Mon Amour (Alain Resnais, 1959)
09. Disque M Para Matar (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954)
10. Onde Começa o Inferno (Howard Hawks, 1959)

When we moved to NYC last October, one of the first things we did was go to the Rififi, which housed one of the most amazing comedy shows ever on Wednesday nights.  I remember approaching the club, which was dark and bright at the same time, spilling people onto the sidewalks.  I remember feeling intimidated in a way that I haven’t in years and years, maybe since going to my first “nightclub” in NC as a teenager.  I fought my way through the crowd, gawking at all the interesting people, semi-famous people, beautiful people, and strangers.  I found the two people I knew inside and together we stood, staring.

Things have changed.  Since that first time, I have been to Rififi at least once a week for comedy shows, burlesque shows, movie screenings, and just to see friends.  I went from feeling intimidated to feeling welcomed and at home there.  I love the couches, I love the natty velvet seats, I love how you can see people like Zach Galifianakis and Arj Barker as well as overly serious hipsters there in equal amounts, I love the venue, and I love the people that work there and hang out there.  I can’t tell you how many times we’ve stayed there till the wee hours, running to the back room to dance when the mood strikes.

Last night was my last night going to Rififi, because as of today, it is closed.  And I am sad.

Notice the badass bright red velvet couch!

“Gabe and Max’s How To Get the Dreamlife of Your Dreams Using the Internet”. Funny stuff.