Pod koniec lat 70-tych pojawiło się sporo filmów, których akcja rozgrywa się w brudnych zaułkach Nowego Jorku, a ich głównymi bohaterami byli zupełni popaprańcy: wykolejeńcy życiowi, narkomani, przestępcy i brutalni policjanci. Sztandarowym filmem tego nurtu jest “Taksówkarz” Martina Scorsese z 1976 roku. Odrobinę mniej znane są niektóre filmy Briana de Palmy, Abla Ferrary czy Sidneya Lumeta. Stosunkowo najmniej znany z tego grona jest scenarzysta i reżyser James Toback i jego film “Fingers” z 1978 roku, zasługujący na zdecydowanie większą uwagę, bo to obraz nie mniej wstrząsający niż “Taksówkarz”.

Główny bohater filmu – Jimmy, rewelacyjnie zagrany przez Harveya Keitela, jest postacią nietuzinkową. Za dnia rozbija się po mieście z przenośnym radiem nastawionym na pełen regulator i ściąga długi dla swojego ojca – lokalnego gangstera, wieczorami zaś z pasją ćwiczy grę na fortepianie, by zostać sławnym muzykiem i spełnić przy okazji ambicje matki. Wieczna huśtawka emocjonalna i zawieszenie między dwoma odmiennymi światami powoli doprowadza nie do końca zrównoważonego Jimmy’ego do obłędu. Wyjątkowy obraz o przemocy, muzyce, pożądaniu, pasji i cienkiej granicy między nimi. Na tyle interesujący, że doczekał się niedawno francuskiego remake’u. Film “W rytmie serca” (oryginalny tytuł: “De battre mon cœur s’est arrêté”) Jacques Audiard’a z 2006 roku z Romain’em Duris w roli głównej, to dość wierna przeróbka “Palców” Tobacka .

by: Grzegorz Kruk 2009

The PC has been out of pocket lately, working on lesson plans, taking a hubristic stab at a Dostoevsky-meets-McCarthy-meets-O’Connor novel, and just generally neglecting to review films. However, he has been watching movies and so would like offer a quick run-down of what he has seen (complete with ratings). He apologizes in advance for the lack of detail, but figures this is the best way to catch up:

1. Two Lovers (dir. James Gray, 2008): 4.5/5
2. We Own the Night (dir. James Gray, 2007): 3.5/5
3. The Yards (dir. James Gray, 2000): 4.5/5 (In general, Gray seems to borrow a lot from Scorsese, but that’s a good thing)
4. Henry Poole Is Here (dir. Mark Pellington, 2008): 3.5/5
5. Frozen River (dir. Courtney Hunt, 2008): 4.5/5 (Amazing performance here from Melissa Leo)
6. Eastern Promises (dir. David Cronenberg, 2007): 5/5 (Interesting, well-acted, and surprisingly underrated)
7. Adventureland (dir. Greg Mottola, 2009): 4/5
8. Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (dir. Sidney Lumet, 2007): 4.5/5
9. In Bruges (dir. Martin McDonagh, 2008): 4/ 5
10. Mongol (dir. Sergei Bodrov, 2008): 4/ 5

Sidney Lumet es un director asociado al thriller clásico, al blanco y negro, conocido sin duda por ser el autor de uno de los mejores debuts cinematográficos de la historia: ‘Doce hombres sin piedad’, una película de carácter teatral que ha sido encumbrada, imitada, parodiada y venerada en los más de cincuenta años que han transcurrido desde su estreno. Sí, cincuenta años. Y aun así, Lumet sigue vivo, con 85 tacos, pero sacando en su semi-retiro una obra tan estimable como ‘Antes que el diablo sepa que has muerto’.
Propongo cuatro películas para conocer a Lumet, y participar así de esas conversaciones gafapastas que a veces uno se encuentra un viernes por la noche. Como cuando un grupo de amigos/conocidos habla de un capítulo de Los Simpsons, y sonríes porque precisamente ese capítulo sí lo has visto, y puedes abrir la boca para dar tu punto de vista.

1.

Doce Hombres sin Piedad (1957)

De cómo un jurado popular, compuesto por 12 desconocidos, ha de decidir sobre la inocencia o culpabilidad de un acusado de asesinato. Ahí que aparece Henry Fonda con cara de bueno, y uno a uno va convenciendo a los demás de su postura relativista. Ojalá una sola reunión de empresa, comunidad de vecinos, o qué narices, cualquier cena en la que debatimos sobre si el Barça es o no mejor que el Real Madrid fuera tan intensa, con tantas argumentaciones buenas, ricas moralmente y de una metafísica nada profunda pero productiva.
Tiene un remake de Nikita Milkahlov, que según me han contado, es estupendo.

2.

Punto límite (1964)

De cómo ‘Teléfono rojo, volamos hacia Moscú’ se pone un poquito serio y se pregunta con preocupación: nos vamos a cargar el mundo, ¿es el momento apropiado? Así que Henry Fonda, esta vez el presidente de EEUU con una interpretación logradísima, habla con el primer ministro ruso para posponer la tragedia. Se nota la limitación de presupuesto, y si no podemos permitirnos poner a soviéticos en la película, colocamos a un traductor/intérprete/psicólogo y todo arreglado. Walter Matthau es un político extremadamente frío y pragmático y tiene un par de líneas de diálogo que es para ponerse a aplaudir.

3.

Network (1973)

Aquí la llamaron ‘Un mundo implacable’, o algo así. Pero me da igual. Network es LA PELÍCULA sobre el poder de los medios de comunicación. Ahora medio universo la conoce porque sus fragmentos más tensos aparecieron el documental internetero ‘Zeitgeist’. Peter Finch (Óscar póstumo al mejor actor) es un conocido showman televisivo que se vuelve majara al comprender que la audiencia se antepone, en todo caso, a la ética y cualquier grado de humanidad. Pero es el único realmente cuerdo en un mundo de locos infelices, que necesitan la televisión como medio de expiación abstracta a la mediocridad en la que aceptan vivir.
La tengo en DVD original, y la reviso de vez en cuando.

4.

Antes que el diablo sepa que has muerto (2007)

Ethan Hawke y Philip Seymour Hoffman se marcan un tanto en estos papeles de dos hermanos pringados que quieren resolver sus problemas económicos (quien dice económicos dice ’su vida es una porquería absoluta’) por medio de la joyería de sus padres. Cometerán un atraco, se llevarán todo lo que puedan y el seguro cubrirá todo. ¿Perfecto? No. Como son unos pringados, todo les sale mal. Lumet derrocha inteligencia, ritmo y hasta alardea de un poderío visual y un sentido metafórico no del todo común en él. Todo hombre con sangre en las venas conservará en su recuerdo a Marisa Tomei, pero yo me quedo con Ethan Hawke cagándose en todo en la primera escena de la película, y Philip Seymour Hoffman yendo a casa de su camello. Tampoco se pierdan a Albert Finney pensando: “Dios, ¿en qué me equivoqué al intentar educar a estos mequetrefes?”

Film #19 in the Filmspotting World War II Marathon!

Screenplay By: Ray Rigby
Directed By: Sidney Lumet

I don’t often like to talk about the interesting movie I wanted to see as opposed to the movie I ended up seeing. The Hill leaves me no choice but to talk about that concept, because it best describes my feelings towards the movie. There is a good movie to be found in The Hill, it just so happens there could have been a much better and more interesting movie if a different path had been taken. Instead The Hill is kind of a jumbled mess, with too many protagonists and antagonists, it lacks the definitive punch needed to be a great movie.

Before I get into all that I’d like to take a second to espouse how great Sean Connery is in The Hill. Other actors are great as well, but I’m so used to Sean Connery playing Sean Connery that I forgot how great of an actor he can be. He never overacts, he never steps outside of the moment, he makes sure that each moment is about his character and not about him as an actor. I’m not a huge Bond fan, but I’d easily place The Hill as the best work Connery has ever done.

Back to the idea of the movie I wanted versus the movie I received. Sidney Lumet sets The Hill up to be a singular duel, a battle of the wills between Roberts and Wilson. I was digging that direction, I wanted to see that movie, but Wilson moved to the background in favor of Williams, while Roberts took a backseat to Stevens and the other members of his cell. Instead of a battle of the wills, Lumet crafted a treatise on the evilness that can be found on your own side in a war. While still good, the problem with that idea is that it doesn’t gel with where Lumet starts The Hill and where he attempts to end it, that singular one-on-one showdown.

The Hill lacks a personal feel, it never quite manages to get as in-depth with any of its characters as it should. I firmly believe this happens because Lumet move away from the one-on-one struggle and focuses on a lot of different characters, characters that are never fully fleshed out. I simply wasn’t as interested in the story Lumet gave me as opposed to the story that was present and ready to be delivered.

It’s not a bad film by any measure, but I was disappointed in The Hill. It could have been so much more and I would have been deeply interested in that other movie. The product delivered is decent enough and worth a watch, but it’s not something to go out of your way to see and it isn’t one of the better films found in this marathon.

Rating:

***

Cheers,
Bill

“It’s always difficult to keep personal prejudice out of a thing like this. And wherever you run into it, prejudice always obscures the truth. I don’t really know what the truth is. I don’t suppose anybody will ever really know.”
~~Juror #8

For some men, it’s disturbingly simple to dismiss the full, oppressive weight a possibly innocent/possibly guilty defendant’s fate in the pursuit of fast, easy Jiffy Lube justice. Juror #8 (Henry Fonda), however, finds himself unwilling and unable to unload a “guilty” verdict because he’s got a pair of Yankees tickets in his pocket or dinner congealing on the table at home. His firm refusal to take facts at face value makes him the unwelcome voice of reason in Sidney Lumet’s taut, phenomenally acted “12 Angry Men,” a courtroom thriller that zeroes in on the ways petty grudges and prejudice cloud human judgment.

Perhaps, though, “courtroom thriller” isn’t quite the right phrase to describe “12 Angry Men,” since playwright/scriptwriter Reginald Rose sets nearly all the action outside the courtroom and inside the jury’s quarters.  This is a brilliantly strategic move, since it narrows our focus and enhances the claustrophobic atmosphere, forcing us inside a small, cramped, sweaty room bursting with big egos, smart mouths and short, explosive tempers. These close quarters offer unusually, and often uncomfortably, intimate glimpses into the jurors’ lives — their professions, their children, even their thoughts, beliefs, hangups. Director Sidney Lumet’s close camera angles enhance the tension immeasurably, literally backing his actors (and us) into corners that offer no escape route. Lumet, it seems, understands that true human nature reveals itself best when suffocated by four walls.

Indeed, “12 Angry Men” is as much a character study as it is a legal procedural, and it’s a credit to the actors that there are no throwaway characters or forgettable ones. Their personalities emerge slowly inside the jury room, where they sit deliberating what seems to be a slam-dunk case: a disadvantaged teen (John Savoca) is accused of murdering his father. There are two witnesses, a knife wiped clean of fingerprints. The teen has an alibi he can’t back up with details, a long rap sheet and a volatile relationship with his old man. Then the 12-man jury retires to deliberate, and things get heated. Juror 8 dissents immediately, urging his peers to question the case’s basis on circumstantial evidence. The remaining jurors, all convinced this young hood deserves the chair, include: 1 (Martin Balsam), the impatient foreman; 2 (John Fiedler), a shy but kind bank clerk; 3 (Lee J. Cobb), a belligerent, stubborn businessman with a runaway son; 4 (E.G. Marshall), a cool, impersonal stockbroker; 5 (Jack Klugman), who grew up in the same slums as the accused murderer; 6 (Edward Binns), a blue-collar man who abides his own moral code; 7 (Jack Warden), a slick, vain salesman; 9 (Joseph Sweeney), an elderly man who’s a keen observer of human behavior; confrontational bigot 10 (Ed Begley), a garage owner; 11 (George Voskovec), an immigrant who designs watches; and 12 (Robert Webber), a wishy-washy ad executive. Initially united in their commitment to quick Jiffy Lube justice, they resist Juror 8’s impassioned arguments until his logic starts to make too much sense to ignore. Slowly, very slowly, they all — excluding 3 and 10 — begin to listen, reason out the prosecution’s points. What’s more, they begin to care about what they’re doing more than what they’re missing by sitting in the jury chambers.

If this exposition makes ”12 Angry Men” sound like a film that’s all talk and no action, that’s because it is. But with acting this accomplished and a script this polished, that’s hardly a criticism. Lumet’s direction is virtually perfect, both invasive and remarkably detached; his camera becomes a character itself, elevating the tension, then abating it, pushing the actors into corners, then letting them wriggle free. This approach lets us know the characters, and it coaxes, too, amazing and emotional performances from each of the 12 actors. Voskovec and Fiedler offer light comic relief, while Sweeney finds an unexpected shrewdness in elderly Juror 9. Fonda underplays Juror 8 to great effect, never overacting or aiming for melodrama. But nobody matches Cobb in terms of purely frightening intensity; as Juror 3, he holds back nothing. He lets us feel the knife twist of his disappointment — in his son, in himself. He is the voice that reminds us that life renders objectivity impossible.

Somebody’s cat. A goddamn blue-eyed cat.

*A Manhã Seguinte (The Morning After, Sidney Lumet, 1986)

Nota: Não há prova maior do know-how de um cineasta do que um gato, a qualidade de um diretor é proporcional à maneira que ele mostra um gato em cena, este é um filme que pouco me agrada, mas a forma que Lumet filma aquele gato é algo que facilmente o levaria para o topo da cadeia cinematográfica, esse momento em direção da porta é deveras uma coisa linda.

Find me guilty

Director: Sidney Lumet.

Guión: Sidney Lumet, T. J. Mancini y Robert J. McCrea

Intérpretes: Vin Diesel, Alex Rocco, Frank Pietrangolare, Ron Silver, Annabella Sciorra, Richard DeDomenico. Jerry Grayson

Música: Jonathan Tunick.

Fotografía: Ron Fortunato

Montaje: Tom Swartwout

EEUU. 2006. 109 minutos.

Lumet, Courtroom Drama

Justicias del Cine de Juicios: fue Sidney Lumet el realizador que se encargó de llevar a la pantalla (al menos) la (más célebre) adaptación cinematográfica de uno de los capítulos judiciales más célebres de la reciente Historia Americana, el proceso federal (auspiciado por la Ley Rico: Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act) seguido contra la familia Lucchese, acusados del control mafioso de la franja de Nueva Jersey (algo así como la auténtica familia Soprano, si me permiten la broma). La notoriedad del Juicio, celebrado a finales de los años ochenta del siglo pasado, proviene de todos sus órdenes de envergadura: kilos y kilos de documentos en el sumario, una veintena de acusados (con sus abogados) y una duración de la vista oral de cerca de dos años, que la convirtió en el Juicio más largo de los anales criminales americanos. Digo “Justicia” porque está claro que semejante capítulo judicial merecía la clarividencia de alguien como Lumet, realizador que destapó su talento en Twelve Angry Men y que es uno de los más avezados y lúcidos radiógrafos de los entornos policiales judiciales que nos ha dejado el Cine. Clarividencia y lucidez, dos epítetos no utilizados al azar, son los que definen el concreto abordaje que el director (septuagenario en el momento de dirigir el filme) lleva a cabo de tan peculiar capítulo judicial en esta Find me guilty.

Self-made lawyer

La especialidad de la premisa –o podríamos decir “el anzuelo”- del filme tiene que ver con su abordaje desde la perspectiva particular de uno de los acusados y miembro original del llamado “Jersey Crew” (los soldados de la familia),  Giacomo “Jackie” DiNorscio, que despidió a su letrado antes del inicio de las sesiones y asumió su propia defensa, lo cual dio lugar a situaciones realmente chocantes en el devenir –oral- de la mecánica procesal del juicio. Así planteados los términos del relato, parecería que nos enfrentamos a una sátira judicial, a una comedia (el título también es bastante ilustrativo), en la que por lo demás Lumet recurre a un icono del cine de acción, Vin Diesel, y le ofrece un rol bien distinto, el del desmandado pero bonachón, más bien obeso y alopécico, gángster inculto y de poca monta que asumió su defensa letrada. Y la verdad es que el realizador se sirve de momentos y anecdotarios jocosos, pero lo de la sátira queda más bien en entredicho. Si es una sátira, lo es en abstracto, porque Lumet, como siempre, habla muy en serio.

La dignidad

El filme, coescrito por el realizador (con T. J. Mancini y Robert J. McCrea), perfila de la forma más ágil (y no por ello menos circunspecta) los diversos peones en la trama. Nos sitúa en los antecedentes personales (o más bien deberíamos decir penales) de DiNorscio, plantea los términos de la acusación mediante el ofrecimiento de un trato al gángster por parte de la fiscalía, describe la catadura profesional (y lo subrayo, el elemento personal está fuera de sentido) tanto del obsesivo jefe de la Fiscalía como de los diversos abogados que asumen las diversas defensas, así como escruta con no menor rigor en la figura del juez (personaje al que se sirve humanizar con habilidad diabólica: véase que es el propio juez quien, tras tantos rifirafes con DiNorscio, es el encargado de informarle del fallecimiento de su madre). Si es más que notable la capacidad de Lumet de concentrar de la forma más diáfana las circunstancias concurrentes en aquel mesiánico juicio (y visualizarlo con la máxima pericia: la sencilla distribución de planos, general en semipicado, medios y primeros planos, de la sala de vistas siempre tiene sentido narrativo), aún resulta más remarcable la sutileza e inteligencia con la que “nos agria la comedia” conforme va desvelando la atronadora soledad y nula perspectiva a la que DiNorscio tiene que enfrentarse, y que va asumiendo en el silencio de su celda –sin butaca- y el ostracismo al que unos y otros le van condenando por su condición de outsider en todos los órdenes, atemorizados precisamente por su franqueza, sentido de las raíces y de la propia dignidad. En esos términos de dignidad –los únicos términos subjetivos a los que Lumet se afilia en su implacable retrato-, es donde, nos cuenta Find me guilty, un hombre debe hallar el sentido de sus actos; las pírricas, a menudo mínimas, victorias cuentan, cuando uno se enfrenta contra el sistema. Porque en la batalla definitiva está condenado a perder: da igual el resultado del juicio, Lumet filma de forma grotesca la celebración del clan –esos abrazos a los miembros del jurado- y, en la última secuencia de la película, cuando DiNorscio regresa a la celda entre los vítores del resto de presos, asistimos a un anticlímax, al reverso real y bien amargo de la supuesta victoria: el rostro de Vin Diesel sonriente, pero enmarcado por las rejas que le seguirán separando de la libertad durante dos décadas más.

 http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0419749/

http://www.findmeguilty.com/

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

http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/find_me_guilty/

http://movies.nytimes.com/2006/03/17/movies/17guil.html

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060316/REVIEWS/60314007

http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/movie/9270005/review/9440862/find_me_guilty

http://www.reelingreviews.com/findmeguilty.htm

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores

“8½? Non, le vrai chef-d’oeuvre est Amarcord“¹ (Sidney Lumet)

Vu les titres de la presse italienne ce matin, le gros tas de boue déversé ce week-end de part et d’autre et le relent toujours plus fascisant -ou simplement fasciste- et inquiétant de la presse du patron (Il Giornale), il apparaît salutaire, pour commencer la semaine, de ne relever que la page 34 de La Stampa: une intervention de Sidney Lumet, à Rimini, où le réalisateur recevait le prix Fellini, du nom de l’un des plus grands réalisateurs de l’histoire du cinéma italien, qui sut lui évoquer le fascisme, d’ailleurs*, dans Amarcord.

“J’adore Amarcord, comme j’aime Satyricon et Roma, alors qu’en vieillissant 8½ s’éloigne un peu, ne semble plus ce qu’il était alors, bien que nous parlons ici de la différence qu’il y a entre ce qui est grand et ce qui magnifique. (Sidney Lumet)

Amarcord (musica di Nino Rota)

* Amarcord (trailer américain)

Nebbia (brouillard)

Tutti al mare!

“Voglio un donna” (“je veux une femme!”)

aEc

¹ “Amarcord” signifie, en dialecte romagnolo (de Rimini, région Romagna) : “Mi ricordo”, c’est à dire “je me souviens“.

Sidney Lumet attempts to work with Tennessee Williams’ 1957 play Orpheus Descending in 1960’s The Fugitive Kind. There’s a lot of interesting stuff here, but Lumet almost overwhelms in his approach to the material and the smaller emotional moments get lost in the shuffle. Still, the casting is tremendous and no fan of cinema should ever pass up an opportunity to see Marlon Brando in his prime.

Williams had written the role for Brando all along, hoping that he’d star in a Broadway version of Orpheus Descending alongside the marvellous Anna Magnani. Brando was too intimidated to star with Magnani on such a small stage, however, thinking that her performance would overshadow his own (he might have been right). With Williams’ blessing, Brando took to starring in the screen version of the piece as directed by Lumet.

Brando is a drifted named “Snakeskin” Xavier, known for playing the guitar and for wearing a snakeskin jacket. We are told he was a club singer, but he calls himself an “entertainer” and there is certainly more than a little mystery when he describes himself and his past. Xavier is forced to flee New Orleans due to trouble with the law and he finds himself in a remote town in Mississippi. After a series of events, many of them bizarre beyond explanation, Xavier finds work at a five-and-dime run by Lady Torrence (Magnani).

Torrence has a few stories of her own and lives her life filled with bitterness and rage towards men who burned down her father’s vineyard because he served blacks. She has also had a love affair and now has to take care of her sick husband, a terrible man named Jabe (Victor Jory). Tossed into the mix for Xavier’s attention is a strange alcoholic nympho named Carol (Joanne Woodward). She attempts to lure Xavier away, but his affections are set.

The Fugitive Kind is a complicated motion picture in that it is filled with multiple confusing romantic entanglements and some strange segments of dialogue. Lumet directs it well, utilizing a mesh of close-ups and unique impact shots to put us in the midst of the sweaty store, but the emotional impact of the characters is often left elsewhere due to his busy approach to the material. Things that could have merely been said (and were merely said in the stage version) are given elaborate treatments at the expense of smaller emotional connections.

That’s not to say that the performances are off because they are not. Brando is spellbinding and ultimately resourceful, giving a full set of possibilities to each moment. Watch as Torrence asks him why he “walks like that.” His response, a shrug and an “I don’t know,” is staggering in its opportunity. It is that range of emotional possibility that gives him his greatest strength here, as we are never sure what a gesture will mean or how it will evolve. Magnani is equally powerful, proving once more that she may be one of the best performers of the classic “woman scorned” archetype in Hollywood history.

Lumet does score points for keeping a lot of the monologues in the picture. The film opens with a terrific one, delivered by Brando facing us as though we are the unseen judge of his character and his overall sense of self. The judge (perhaps us?) belittles him somewhat before releasing him to the world, as though Brando’s Xavier needed to be grounded as a point of order and humanity.

The Fugitive Kind is not the best of the Williams adaptations set to the big screen (that would go to Baby Doll), but it does retain that classic scorching South feel, complete with sweaty villains and heavy, breathy, attractive women. It is more than worth seeing for Brando’s work with the tremendous Magnani, of course, and remains a celebration of one of America’s most gifted performer’s talents.

7.1/10

(A Dog Day Afternoon) 

Videoteca do Beto #15

Dirigido por Sidney Lumet.

Elenco: Al Pacino, John Cazale, Charles Durning, Penelope Allen, James Broderick, Chris Sarandon, Sully Boyar, Beulah Garrick, Carol Kane, Sandra Kazan, Marcia Jean Kurtz, Amy Levitt, John Marriott, Estelle Omens, Gary Springer, Carmine Foresta e Lance Henriksen. 

Roteiro: Frank Pierson, baseado em artigo de P.F. Kluge e Thomas Moore. 

Produção: Martin Bregman e Martin Elfand. 

[Antes de qualquer coisa, gostaria de pedir que só leia esta crítica se já tiver assistido o filme. Para fazer uma análise mais detalhada é necessário citar cenas importantes da trama].

A história real de um assalto mal planejado, que deveria durar dez minutos e acabou durando mais de dez horas, tornando-se o principal evento da televisão norte-americana no dia, é contada com maestria pelo excelente Sidney Lumet, auxiliado por uma atuação magnífica de Al Pacino e um trabalho técnico muito competente que tornou o filme extremamente realista.

Precisando de dinheiro para pagar a cirurgia de mudança de sexo de seu namorado, Sonny (Al Pacino) resolve assaltar um banco acompanhado de seu amigo Sal (John Cazale). Dez horas depois, eles ainda estavam dentro do prédio com os reféns, cercados pela polícia, pela imprensa e por curiosos de plantão.

Lumet inicia o longa com diversos planos que contrastam as diferenças sociais, nos ambientando na cidade. Também mostra alguns cachorros na rua, fazendo uma alusão ao nome do filme. A introdução embalada pela ótima música nos leva até o carro onde estão Sonny, Sal e Stevie. Os minutos seguintes são responsáveis por captar a atenção do espectador, que ficará grudado na tela por duas horas, em um clima misto de tensão e humor negro.

O diretor é hábil ao conseguir, com a ajuda de sua equipe técnica, manter um constante clima de urgência, mantendo uma sensação de que sempre algo pode acontecer inesperadamente na tela. Ele mantém a câmera em movimento em muitos momentos, como se estivéssemos em um documentário. Também é muito eficiente na hora de captar e coordenar o exército de figurantes do filme. Quando Sonny começa a ligar para as pessoas importantes de sua vida, Lumet vai aproximando a câmera de seu rosto, transmitindo o desespero dele e realçando a ótima atuação de Pacino, que já está exausto. Seu rosto molhado e seus cabelos ainda mais desarrumados refletem isto. A agilidade das cenas é mérito também da excelente montagem de Dede Allen e Angelo Corrao, que consegue criar este clima de urgência sem soar confuso. Um exemplo do bom trabalho de montagem é a cena do tiro de Sonny na janela, onde podemos ver a reação em todo o ambiente praticamente de forma simultânea. Outro exemplo é a surpreendente cena final, onde em questão de segundos podemos acompanhar toda a ação paralela que culmina com o assassinato de Sal e a prisão de Sonny. A fotografia granulada (Direção de Victor J. Kemper) torna o filme mais realista e na parte final do filme se torna extremamente escura (“Cortaram as luzes!”) o que torna o ambiente mais tenso, além de aumentar a sensação de estar encurralado.

Além da boa direção de Lumet, a força do filme se concentra na enérgica e sensacional atuação de Al Pacino. Na época um grande astro, devido ao sucesso dos dois primeiros filmes da trilogia “O Poderoso Chefão”, o ator se mostrou extremamente corajoso ao aceitar este papel, que envolvia homossexualismo, e arriscar sua reputação. Porém sua excelente atuação e o ótimo filme provaram que ele estava certo em sua escolha. Logo que o assalto se inicia ele já está agitado, nervoso, gritando e falando palavrões. Seu Sonny é alguém que, por ter trabalhado em bancos, conhece todos os artifícios do local (alarmes nas notas, nas chaves, notas marcadas) e utilizou este conhecimento para tentar resolver sua situação. Extremamente pressionado por todos os lados de sua vida, como podemos notar na conversa de Sonny com Leon, com sua ex-esposa e depois com sua mãe, notamos que ele não é uma pessoa má, mas perdeu a cabeça com tantos problemas e não soube lidar com esta situação. Observe como Angie não deixa Sonny falar, mostrando a pessoa complicada que ele tinha que conviver diariamente. Ao final da conversa com ela, Sonny fica pensativo, refletindo sobre tudo que aconteceu. Por outro lado, Sonny também não é alguém fácil de entender. Casado e com filhos, ele piorou ainda mais sua já complicada vida quando se envolveu com Leon, com quem se casou em outro estado. Seus pais também não eram lá pessoas muito tranqüilas, como podemos perceber na conversa dele com sua mãe, quando ela fala pra ele correr, dando um claro sinal de desespero. “Seu pai disse que não tem mais filho”, diz ela, mostrando que sua família não era o melhor exemplo de estrutura. Por tudo isso, e também por ter perdido o emprego, Sonny resolveu acabar com seus problemas da forma mais rápida. Mas seu plano deu errado. E Pacino é extremamente hábil ao nos transmitir toda esta carga de tensão que Sonny carrega nos ombros. Quando o telefone toca e o gerente diz que é pra ele (uma das reféns pula e sorri aliviada ao saber que a policia chegou ao local), Pacino faz uma cara de espanto deixando claro que Sonny não era um ladrão de bancos acostumado com aquilo. Ele agiu errado, na hora errada. Lumet diminui Pacino neste momento. Ele está no chão, desolado, e o gerente fica em pé diante dele. O show particular do ator tem alguns momentos memoráveis, com na cena em que ele se refere às vitimas inocentes em “Attica” (Rebelião de Attica, 1971), dizendo para a polícia guardar as armas (“Put the f* guns down!”), a ótima cena da entrega da pizza em que Sonny joga dinheiro para o povo e se torna herói pra eles (“Sonny are we!” / “Nós somos Sonny!” gritam) e o sensacional diálogo entre Sonny e apresentador de TV (“Quanto você ganha por semana?”), que é uma excelente crítica ao sensacionalismo da imprensa, tão comum nos dias de hoje, que ao invés de debater uma solução para os problemas sociais, como era o caso, tenta falar com propriedade de problemas tão distantes da realidade que os próprios apresentadores (como alguns da nossa televisão aberta) vivem.

No restante do elenco, podemos destacar Charles Durning como o inteligente policial Moretti. Suas discussões com Sonny são sempre realistas. Observe os tiques no rosto de Pacino, mexendo os olhos e o canto da boca freqüentemente, enquanto Moretti fala ofegante tentando controlar a tensa situação. Os dois mostram o nervosismo que seus personagens sentem com muita habilidade. John Cazale tem boa atuação como o calado Sal. Repare sua tensão refletida na voz e no olhar quando ele fala com Sonny sobre arremessar corpos. Ele é o mais perigoso da dupla, pois irá até a última conseqüência para evitar voltar à prisão. Sal é simples, nem sabe que Wyoming não é um país. Observe como ele fica irritado quando a TV fala que são dois assaltantes homossexuais. Sonny responde que “eles podem dizer o que querem, somos apenas um show de horror”, numa boa crítica à má utilização da liberdade de imprensa. Finalmente, temos Chris Sarandon, muito bem como o amante homossexual de Sonny. Observe a posição de suas mãos quando fala, muitas vezes pressionando o próprio peito, num movimento bem feminino. Sua enorme sensibilidade nos diálogos e o desmaio ao ver Sonny também reforçam a qualidade da atuação. Observe também seu riso ao ouvir Sonny dizer “Dinamarca, Suécia?”, típico de quem está ironizando o que ouve. Interessante notar também como até os figurantes participam muito bem do filme, como na já citada cena da pizza, ou quando Leon fala que é “uma mulher presa no corpo de um homem” e um policial ri ao fundo. Moretti olha bravo e ele disfarça olhando para o alto.

O ótimo roteiro de Frank Pierson, baseado em artigo de P.F. Kluge e Thomas Moore, consegue balancear com competência os momentos tensos com muitos alívios cômicos, recheados de humor negro. Entre eles, podemos citar a cena em que o marido de uma das reféns liga e ela pergunta o que pode responder pra ele (“Ele quer saber que horas vai acabar.”) ou na cena em que outra refém reclama da linguagem utilizada por Sonny. Em certo momento, alguém sugere que a viagem do grupo seja para a Europa, dizendo que “A Holanda é bem legal, abrigou pessoas na guerra”, e Sonny responde: “Onde fica a Holanda?”. “Ele é calmo”, “São minhas garotas!” e “Meninas, eu fui entrevistada!” são outros trechos bem humorados do roteiro, que demonstra ainda muita coragem ao abordar o tema homossexualismo em 1975. Também é interessante notar o conflito entre a polícia e a imprensa, tanto no chão, com os repórteres furando o bloqueio, como no alto com os helicópteros tentando filmar o “show”.

Lumet mostrou coragem ao narrar esta história real acontecida poucos anos antes e com extremo realismo, abordando o homossexualismo e também o racismo, na cena em que o primeiro refém é solto e confundido com um assaltante pelo fato dele ser negro, mas também pela péssima comunicação entre Sonny e Moretti (“Você falou que só tinha mulheres aí!”). A condução da cena final é perfeita. Enquanto vemos os carros se dirigindo ao Aeroporto, a tensão vai aumentando e a expectativa pelo que vai acontecer é enorme. A cena tem grande impacto, e o fato do filme ser baseado em uma história real, aumenta ainda mais o efeito dela no espectador. Sonny não era uma pessoa ruim, só não soube lidar com seus problemas da maneira mais adequada, e pagou caro por isso.

Extremamente ágil e tenso, porém balanceado com muitos momentos de bom humor, Um Dia de Cão mostra como uma pessoa normal pode se tornar um perigo para a sociedade se não souber lidar com seus problemas da forma correta. Com mais uma ótima direção de Lumet e uma atuação fabulosa de Al Pacino, garante duas horas de bom entretenimento e ainda traz boas reflexões para o espectador a respeito de temas polêmicos como o sensacionalismo exagerado da imprensa, o homossexualismo e o método controverso da policia norte-americana na época. 

Texto publicado em 02 de Novembro de 2009 por Roberto Siqueira

Sidney Lumet is an American film director. He was born in the year of 1924 in a state of Pennsylvania. He studied acting in Professional Children’s school of New York, and Columbia University. He has been directed over 50 films such 12 Angry Men, Serpico which earned him Academy Award nomination for the best director, Dog Day Afternoon, Network, and The Verdict. In early in his career, he began his career in Broadway before he works in film industry. A Lumet style is that he believes that movies are an art. His interest is in the medium and his ambitions for it began. He paid attention to the picture qualities in every movie of his. Because he started his career as an actor, he has become known as an “actor’s director,” and he has worked with the best of them over the years. His first film that considering his debut is 12 Angry Men.

Jacob’s Ladder is a 1990 psychological thriller / horror film directed by Adrian Lyne, based on a screenplay by Bruce Joel Rubin. It stars Tim Robbins, Elizabeth Peña, Danny Aiello, and Jason Alexander. Actor Macaulay Culkin appears in an uncredited performance.

Tagline:  The most frightening thing about Jacob Singer’s nightmare is that he isn’t dreaming.

Trivia:

• All SFX were filmed live, with no post-production. For example, to achieve the famous ’shaking head’ effect, director Adrian Lyne simply filmed the actor waving his head around (and keeping his shoulders and the rest of his body completely still) at 4fps, resulting in an incredibly fast and deeply disturbing motion when played back at the normal frame-rate of 24fps.
• The Bergen Street station in the film was actually an abandoned, lower level portion of the station, which had to be re-tiled and fixed to look as if it was still in working condition.
• All ads in the subway and Bergen Street station are anti-drug ads.
• According to the original script, the subway station Jacob arrives at in the beginning of the movie was supposed to be Nostrand Avenue – not Bergen Street.
• According to the original script, after Jacob is nearly run over by the subway train, a sequence involving a man being raped in the subway station mens bathroom was supposed to occur. It was filmed but deleted from the final cut (parts of the scene can be seen in the Making-Of featurette Building ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ (1990) (V)).
• Writer Bruce Joel Rubin wrote the script for Jacob’s Ladder in 1980 after he had a dream of being trapped in a subway. He spent ten years trying to get it produced, but the script remained languishing in developmental limbo. During this period, Rubin’s agent told him that the film would never be made as “Hollywood doesn’t make ghost movies”. After the Rubin scripted Ghost (1990) became a smash hit, coupled with the success of Alan Parker’s Angel Heart (1987), studios became more open to the possibilities of Rubin’s script. After taking on the role of director, Adrian Lyne spent over a year refining the script with writer Rubin.
• Adrian Lyne made sure Jacob and his visions never appear together in the same shot.
• The hospital gurney that carries Jacob was deliberately unbalanced by Adrian Lyne. He raised one wheel slightly off the floor, causing it to rattle and spin.
• The confrontation between Jacob and Geary originally takes place in a courtroom corridor. Lyne moved them to the stairs in order to downplay the height difference between Tim Robbins (who is 6′ 5″) and ‘Jason Alexander’ (who is 5′ 5″).
• Some additional scenes from the original script which were changed or removed by director Adrian Lyne: – During the dance scene, ALL the dancers turn into demons. – During one of his Vietnam flashbacks, Jacob has a vision of a “celestial staircase” accompanied by heavenly music. – Jacob watches a reverend on TV who rants about the world coming to an end. – Jacob sees an image of a demon on the wall of his living room, which, when he looks closely at it, becomes a portal to Hell. – A scene following the “antidote” sequence in which the ceiling explodes and Jacob is surrounded by a vision of Heaven. – A different ending, where Jezzie turns herself inside-out and transforms into a huge demon, which Jacob has to fight before ascending to heaven.
• The closing legend of the film mentions the testing of a drug named BZ in Vietnam. BZ is NATO code for a hallucinogen called 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate, which was rumored to have been administered to US troops during the Vietnam War in an attempt to increase their combat abilities.
• After initial test audiences reported that the film was overwhelming, director Adrian Lyne cut out almost thirty minutes of material, almost all of which came from the last third of the film. Four major sequences were removed after Jacob (Tim Robbins) first meets Michael (Matt Craven); a scene where Michael gives him an antidote for the Ladder, a scene where Jacob thinks he is cured but turns out not to be; a scene where he goes to Michael’s apartment and finds Michael decapitated; and a scene just prior to his final meeting with Gabe (Macaulay Culkin), where he meets Jezzie (Elizabeth Peña), who shows her true form.
• For all of the chiropractor scenes, director Adrian Lyne ensured there was a real chiropractor on-set, who would work with actor Danny Aiello so as to ensure authenticity. According to Lyne, chiropractors often approach him and thank him for going to the trouble of getting what they do exactly right.
• According to director Adrian Lyne, most of the dialogue in the opening scene between the soldiers was improvised on set by the actors themselves, especially the conversation between George (Ving Rhames) and Jacob (Tim Robbins) about masturbation.
• Prior to the commencement of filming, former US marine Dale Dye took actors Tim Robbins, Pruitt Taylor Vince, Eriq La Salle, Ving Rhames, Brian Tarantina, Brent Hinkley and Anthony Alessandro to a 5-day military boot camp.
• Adrian Lyne also heavily rewrote the scene involving the biblical Jacob’s ladder at the end of the film. Writer Bruce Joel Rubin had written the scene to involve a massive staircase ascending into the clouds, with crowds of people lining it, towering columns, and huge gates at the summit. Again however, Lyne felt that such an image could come across as preposterous (he refers to Rubin’s original conception as the Liberace scene’ on the DVD commentary track). As such, Lyne rewrote the scene to involve simply the staircase in Jacob’s house, basing this on the principal that heaven is wherever you were happiest.
• In the original screenplay, writer Bruce Joel Rubin had created a typical Biblical hell, complete with winged demons, cloven hoofed devils with horns, people with beaks and strange objects lying randomly around (director Adrian Lyne likens Rubin’s vision to the work of Hieronymus Bosch). As with Rubin’s general depiction of demons however, Lyne felt that such scenes could very easily make an audience laugh. As such, he decided to rewrite the scene of Jacob’s descent into hell; ultimately coming up with the hospital sequence where Jacob is wheeled on a gurney into a metaphorical hell which becomes more and more grotesque as he moves.
• In Bruce Joel Rubin’s original screenplay, all of the demons who appear throughout the film were typical biblical demons with horns, wings, cloven hooves etc. Director Adrian Lyne felt that this kind of imagery could very easily come across as comic, which would destroy the film. He felt that the fact that the imagery was so far from human lessened its impact, and as such, he decided he wanted the demons to be humanesque, but not quite human. During his research into this (which was when he discovered the photography of Joel-Peter Witkin), Lyne came across the Thalidomide scandal. Thalidomide was a drug made available for purchase from 1957 to 1961. Ostensibly, it was designed to treat pregnant women; primarily as an antiemetic to combat morning sickness, and secondarily as a sleeping aid. However, prior to its release, inadequate clinical tests were carried out, leading to roughly 10,000 children in Africa and Europe being born with severe physical deformities because their mothers had taken thalidomide during their pregnancy. The most common defects were phocomelia, dysmelia, amelia and polymelia; all conditions which affect the appearance of the limbs. During his research, Lyne studied the Thalidomide case, and came to feel that the birth defects caused by the drug represented the perfect starting place for his redesign of Rubin’s demons. The Thalidomide scandal was also the inspiration for David Cronenberg’s Scanners (1981).
• According to director Adrian Lyne, the drug aspect of the story was inspired by the Martin Lee and Bruce Shlain book, “Acid Dreams: The CIA, LSD and Sixties Rebellion”.
• Director Adrian Lyne used the art of painters William Blake, H.R. Giger, and Francis Bacon and photographers Diane Arbus and Joel-Peter Witkin as his primary influences for the visual style of the film.
• The film was green-lit by Paramount Pictures (with whom Adrian Lyne had made both Flashdance (1983) and Fatal Attraction (1987), and with whom writer Bruce Joel Rubin had made Ghost (1990)), but there was a change of leadership in the studio and the new executives were unsure of the film. They demanded that the end of the movie be changed, but both Lyne and Rubin refused, and so Paramount pulled the plug on the film. It appeared as if the project was going to have to be completely abandoned until Mario Kassar and Andrew G. Vajna of Carolco Pictures saved it with a budget of $25 million. They also gave Lyne complete creative control as well as final cut of the film.
• In an ironic reversal, Adrian Lyne turned down directorial duties on The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990) so he could direct Jacob’s Ladder. His first choice for the role of Jacob Singer was Tom Hanks, but Hanks turned down the film so he could make The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990).
• According to writer Bruce Joel Rubin, the script was heavily inspired by the Bardo Thodol (The Tibetan Book of the Dead), the biblical story of Jacob’s ladder and Robert Enrico’s Oscar-winning short film La rivière du hibou (1962), based on the 1890 Ambrose Bierce short story ‘An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge’, in which much of the narrative is a man’s experience of an imagined life in the spilt second before he dies.
• Actors who were allegedly interested in playing the leading role of Jacob Singer included Dustin Hoffman, Al Pacino and Richard Gere. For the role of Jezzie, director Adrian Lyne auditioned roughly 300 women, including Julia Roberts, Andie MacDowell, Madonna and Jennifer Lopez. The role eventually went to the very first person who auditioned – Elizabeth Peña.
• Sidney Lumet, Michael Apted and Ridley Scott all tried to get the project green-lit during its ten-year period of non-production.
• Don Johnson and Mickey Rourke both turned down the lead role.

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Onora il padre e la madre (Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead) è un film del 2007 diretto da Sidney Lumet, con Philip Seymour Hoffman, Ethan Hawke, Marisa Tomei e Albert Finney.
Il titolo originale è una parte dell’antico detto irlandese May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead, traducibile come “Che tu possa arrivare in paradiso mezz’ora prima che il diavolo si accorga che sei morto”.

Leggi altre notizie su: | Thriller | Drammatico | Sidney Lumet | Philip Seymour Hoffman | Ethan Hawke | Albert Finney

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Whoever thought after being in over 15 films about mindless action, Vin Diesel actually can act.

Mobster Giacomo “Jackie” DiNorscio (played by Vin Diesel) faces a series of charges even though he has a prior 30 year conviction, but he decides to stand trial instead of ratting out his family and associates. A wrench is thrown into the system when DiNorscio attempts to defend himself and act as his own lawyer at trial.

Director Sidney Lumet, who at the time was 81, has directed films 12 Angry Men and The Verdict, so he does know his way around the courtroom. The really significant thing about this film is that it is not one of those typical courtroom dramas where the bad guys are against the good guys. The good guys in reality are the defenders of the government but Diesel’s character is so lively and fun you are sort of split between of who to cheer for and that hasn’t happened in a courtroom drama that I have seen.

The only problem with this thing is that I don’t know why this film had put itself of having sympathy towards the criminals that Vin is standing for. If a movie has you cheer the bad guys when one man is the voice for all, and he’s still bad, that goes to show that the movie has a problem.

I also wish that there were more scenes outside of the courtroom, although, Jackie in real life spent half of his life behind bars anyway. Also at times I felt the movie lagged but that was the feel for the longest Mafia trial in American history, so i guess its  the effect that counts.

I really did enjoy the screenplay since most of it was actually said in the court. The film can be touching but also can keep you entertained even when Jackie starts to pick up his game. This screenplay has a very wise mix of humor and drama that is still smart even when it seems like it gets out of hand.

The most surprising thing about this film is the performance from Vin Diesel. He surely shows us why he was penned a movie star after all. He chose the right project to where he can be funny, vicious, and also very serious when it comes to telling the truth and not ratting. This is a very surprising performance that surely wins you over and has you forget that he is a total crook.

Consensus: Find Me Guilty finds itself rooting for the bad guys, but has a great real-life look at one of the longest Mafia American trial, backed by a surprise performance from Vin Diesel.

7.5/10=Rental!!!

Hoffman and Hawke relearn that old lesson -- no plan is foolproof -- in "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead."

Here’s the plain truth: Sidney Lumet’s grim, gripping “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead” won’t so much wear you down as break you down … hard. In frame after frame, Lumet uses his disjointed, objective direction to build the momentum, and he never hesitates or shrinks back. Neither do the actors. So the hits — emotional and physical — keep coming until the film steamrolls into a conclusion that’s profoundly unsettling. “Devil” is as draining as it is invigorating to behold.

Part of that energy has to do with the way the story (epic in scope) unfolds. The narrative is nonlinear, so the characters are introduced in jarring flashbacks and meta-flashbacks. This a multi-layered story, with plots and subplots weaving in and out, but there is a common thread: Andy (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), a man who believes money will rebuild his broken life. Andy convinces his brother Hank (Ethan Hawke) to commit the perfect crime: Rob their parents’ jewelry store, pawn the merchandise and walk away with $60,000 each. It’s a win-win, since Hank is months behind on his child support and Andy’s living light years beyond his means (thanks to his money-hungry wife, played by Marisa Tomei). But Murphy’s law (or karma?) mucks up Andy’s scheme from minute one, and nothing about the robbery goes as planned. Things go very, very wrong, leaving Andy and a shell-shocked Hank with blood on their hands and their father, Charles (Albert Finney), hell-bent on finding out who planned the robbery.

To say more about the plot would be to ruin the experience of watching “Devil.” There are grueling twists and surprises aplenty. In fact, the film feels much like a vase that’s been broken and glued back together wrong, with sharp edges jutting out and pieces shoved into nooks where they don’t really fit. But that’s why “Devil” is so absorbing — the pieces are all there; it’s up to viewers to put them in order. In Lumet’s mind, it seems, the viewers are the detectives. He makes us work for it.

The actors deserve much of the credit for injecting even more energy into “Devil.” The supporting cast is large, but the players make their performances singularly unforgettable. Finney is quietly effective as Charles, a man reeling from the fallout of a crime he can’t fathom. But his is not a one-note performance, for Charles isn’t an ideal father, and Finney isn’t afraid to let the cracks show. Hawke, too, plays it subtle; it might be the best work he’s ever done. Known for playing fake-charming womanizers, he shrinks himself to portray Hank, an emotional cripple whose coddled upbringing didn’t prep him to deal with reality. He cowers when things go wrong. Tomei, who just keeps getting better, is impressive as Gina. Essentially, Gina’s a trophy wife; she spends more time romancing Andy’s platinum card than Andy. But watch what Tomei does with her eyes, particularly in the scene where Andy breaks down. There are hints of depth there. Gina may be one of the film’s few female characters, but Tomei makes her more than just a party favor.

As for Hoffman, this may be his best performance — and he won an Oscar for “Capote.” In “Devil,” Hoffman gets another meaty role, and he does not disappoint. On one level, he exceeds at demonstrating Andy’s many flaws. Here is a man who craves money and success, a preternaturally calm control freak who refuses to admit he’s sinking too fast to pull himself up. He steals and lies, then wonders why the parts of his life “don’t add up.” But leave it to Hoffman to find beauty where there is none. When Andy finally lets loose, Hoffman rips into the pain like a man possessed. He shows that Andy is an insecure man who has numbed his feelings to the point where he believed they no longer existed. It’s the exhausting, awe-inspiring lit fuse that fires Lumet’s exquisitely crafted and tumultuous Greek tragedy character study.  

Grade: A+

在製作上，本片的燈光、剪接與攝影確是拿揑準繩，為角色增添立體感覺，場與場的剪接位又有趣機智，打出一個電話接上另一個電話接聽，中間的暗場發生了的事已經不言而喻，更多添一份接受現實的無奈感覺。

在劇本上，本片女主人Diana（Faye Dunaway飾演）以節目部阿頭硬闖新聞部，以娛樂功能作為最高宗旨，在公映當年可能是誇張失實的諷刺描寫，在今日應已是媒體世界的常態了，這說明，編導擁有跨時代的前瞻力，三十年前的嬉笑，今日重溫，卻一樣的無奈與悲哀。

幾位老人家 William Holden、Peter Finch、Robert Duvall 表現出神入化，都是屢積了幾十年演技的一個優秀巨匠，沉重而內歛，演活沉醉在奇觀媒體下的無力與哀愁，惹人深思，令人感慨。

伸延:
．《非常爆…內幕》

VERDICT:
7/10 Bad Ideas

A good, overlooked movie about really bad people making one really bad decision after another until they’re too far deep to achieve any kind of redemption. It’s a real pick-me-upper alright.

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead follows the lives of two brothers, the older of which is rich and successful, the younger of which is not so much of either.  So when the younger bro goes to his older bro for some financial assistance, the older bro comes up with a freakin’ genius scheme if there ever was one – to rob their parents’ jewelry store in broad daylight.

A Swiss watch of a plan if you ask me.

Anyway, it’s directed by Sidney Lumet, a guy who’s seemingly been putting out a new movie every other weekend for the past thirty years, some of which being Dog Day Afternoon, Serpico, Network, 12 Angry Men, and a slew of other great movies that would probably compel some directors to just quit while they’re ahead. Point is, if you’ve never heard of him, take note, sucka’s. Lumet knows his shit and this is one more gritty, accomplished addition to his epic collection of work.

But aside from Lumet, the main draw to this movie is its cast. The younger brother is played by Ethan Hawke, and even though he always seems to me like the same emotional, mopey, misunderstood teen he played in Dead Poets Society, I like Ethan Hawke. He’s pretty good here and gets the job done.

But the older brother is played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, and I don’t really need to add much to that considering he has made it perfectly clear by now that he is not fucking around. He’s the most morally corrupt character in the movie with the most character development, and it also helps that he’s got the best lines that allow him to yell a lot. Hoffman’s just a wild man and a rip to watch every time. Very good casting choice.

Marisa Tomei is also here as Hoffman’s two-timing girlfriend, and if you thought she was comfortable with her body in The Wrestler, consider this a glaring precursor of things to come. Very, very naked. All the time. But she’s a good actor, too. So that works out.

Albert Finney’s good in it, too. I like Albert Finney, solid actor.

But aside from the cast, the story is also good and memorable in a very intense and totally unsettling way. I was about to call it forgettable, then I remembered the pit in my stomach I had after walking out of the theater and how all I wanted was for the person sitting next to me to reach over and give me a hug. This is one well-written, pitch-black movie with some of the most believably evil characters I’ve seen in a good while. Some of this shit would make Darth Vader shake his head and say, “Jesus H. Murphy, this family’s a freakin’ mess.”

Only complaint is that it’s almost too dark at times. After a while you really just want these people to catch a break, more for your own sake than for theirs, but it doesn’t take much foresight to figure out that things aren’t exactly turning up for this family. How about a knock-knock joke or something? Anything! Please!

I remember when this first came out someone convinced my aunt that she’d like this movie – my super-nice aunt who can barely handle anything worse than The Sound of Music – and, needless to say, the poor woman was borderline shell-shocked by the time the end credits rolled around. It’s not for everyone – actually, it’s definitely not for everyone – but if you’re in the mood for family tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, you might want to check this out, Debbie Downer.

And with the holidays coming up, the next time you need a reminder that you’re dysfunctional family really isn’t all that bad, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead will do the trick just fine.

La cinéphilie compulsive et la référence sublimée ne sont pas néfastes à la formalisation de longs-métrages uniques, trouvant leur légitimité d’abord en eux-mêmes plutôt qu’à travers leurs influences disséminées, que celles-ci soient directes ou non. Les critiques souvent faites au cinéma de Tarantino ne sont à cet égard qu’une tartufferie rhétorique destinée à démolir en fin de compte le seul « défaut » que lui reprochent les empêcheurs de rassembler en salles : l’unanimité suscitée auprès du public et d’une large partie des chroniqueurs sous le charme de ses tours de force (esthétiques, narratifs, spectaculaires). Une filmographie qui, débarrassée de ses citations, n’en conserverait pas moins son entière qualité – sinon plus encore.
Dans un tout autre registre, sans confiner à l’exercice citationnel tel que pratiqué par l’ami Quentin, la réalisatrice Lucile Chaufour a truffé son premier long de ces fragments référentiels chers à la mémoire des passionnés du 7e art, tout en signant un vrai et beau film sur le rock n’ roll, les hommes, les femmes, l’amour / la dépendance bafoués et la lutte des classes. Une pellicule polysémique, émotionnelle, capable de véhiculer les vraies valeurs (perverties dans la production hexagonale sous perfusion comico-mongoloïde ou dépressive, et aussi par une certaine frange hollywoodienne, Michael Bay en tête) du divertissement populaire tout en se situant dans une mouvance artistique indépendante voire underground, seule contre tous les pré-formatages et les diktats du concept prétendument « grand public ». Violent Days parle du réel avec les atours d’une vraie fiction à l’ancienne et intemporelle à la fois ; Violent Days parle de vrais gens dans leur labeur, dans leur violence des samedis soirs où l’on sort entre potes, transmués en personnages de cinéma, toutes époques non pas confondues, mais fusionnées.
En attendant de lire dans VERSUS n° 17 notre critique / analyse détaillée de cette production salvatrice pour le cinéma « français, monsieur » – et qui disparaîtra sans doute trop tôt de la programmation des salles, alors hâtez-vous – brève rencontre, en forme de portrait / propos recueillis, avec la réalisatrice des ces jours violents forcément inoubliables.

Docu & fiction
« Déontologiquement, je ne peux pas dire que j’ai fait un documentaire ».
Violent Days est un film aux frontières du genre parfois, et qui utilise une matière documentaire, des lieux, des façons de filmer, des interviews mais ce que le spectateur voit est « une remise en scène », agrémentée de captations parcellaires, des paroles de travailleurs – de cariste par exemple –, ancrées dans la réalité de leur exploitation mais aussi de leur passion totale pour le rock n’ roll – une raison de vivre, de se décloisonner du quotidien ouvrier.

Le regard de classe
Quid du travail de représentation cinématographique des classes populaires, forcément délicat, d’un côté comme de l’autre ? « Je n’aime pas l’esthétique du malheur, cette instrumentalisation de l’autre ou cette complaisance qui explore et se repaît de ce qui ne résiste pas, de ce qui souffre », précise Lucile Chaufour, dont le langage, autant hors-champ que plein cadre, via les images ou les mots (ses notes de réalisation sont un trésor d’éclairage des concepts manipulés dans le film), se révèle d’une précision inouïe, moteurs d’une rhétorique inflexible, qui sait où elle va et ne se détourne pas du sens, premier, essentiel, du message – des effets ? – qu’elle produit. « Pour moi, les plus beaux films sur le milieu ouvrier sont ceux où les personnages ne sont pas systématiquement ramenés aux a priori de classe, déshumanisés par un traitement qui les rend exotiques ou affligeants, qui les limite et les contraint aux attendus de scénaristes non concernés et peu documentés. Et puis, même si le contexte social et personnel est parfois déceptif, je préfère m’intéresser aux personnages qui, malgré leurs limites, portent en eux un désir, parfois très ténu, parfois naïf, de changement, qui interrogent, qui refusent d’admettre la brutalité du monde. »

Événements et mouvements
L’histoire que raconte Lucile Chaufour est aussi humaine, émotionnelle. Une influence importante dans ses notes de réalisation, John Cassavetes : « Pour moi, le cinéma de Cassavetes a été une autorisation formidable à faire du cinéma, j’ai découvert ses films dans les années 80, c’était une l’époque où l’esthétique léchée des films du type La Lune dans le caniveau me glaçait… Il y avait une alternative avec quelques films comme Star Suburb (La Banlieue des étoiles, Stéphane Drouot) dont l’humanité, la fragilité, le bricolage, la féerie, le désespoir résonnaient plus justement pour moi, mais je n’y trouvais pas l’élan, la vitalité que je cherchais. Et puis un ami m’a dit de venir voir un film qu’il avait programmé dans un cinéma en banlieue, c’était Husbands, non sous-titré, je n’ai pas tout compris mais ça m’a fait un bien fou : participer à ces moments intenses, désespérés, amoureux, cette façon de chercher une vérité de l’instant au risque de l’”accident” formel… je me suis dit : c’est ça que je veux ressentir… et même Meurtre d’un bookmaker chinois, qui ne m’a pas autant plu que Minnie & Moskowitz, Une Femme sous influence, Opening night… a été une leçon pour moi : expérimenter la façon dont un plan peut transformer en soi la compréhension du cinéma, en l’occurence, ce plan dans les premières minutes du film, où l’on suit Ben Gazarra dans un café. D’abord surprise, un peu critique, puis perplexe de la durée que prenait ce long plan erratique et souvent sous-exposé, j’ai de façon de plus en plus précise ressenti l’ouverture, la liberté, la légèreté qu’il inscrivait en moi : on pouvait filmer comme ça, assumer un plan à ce point fragile dans la narration, et rendre par là même accessible au spectateur, d’abord perplexe et déstabilisé, une vérité du personnage et de la situation qu’aucun dialogue n’a besoin d’expliciter. Il y a d’ailleurs une référence au film dans Violent Days ; savez-vous quelle chanson chante Ben Gazzara avant le meurtre, quand il téléphone à son club ? Celle que chante, aussi, Mr Sophistication quand Gazzara monte sur scène à la toute fin du métrage… » [J’ai triché ami lecteur, j’ai revu le film depuis l’entretien : « I Can’t Give You Anything But Love ».]

Cinéma total
Si le film de Lucile Chaufour parle si bien au spectateur, c’est sans doute parce qu’elle-même parle brillamment du cinéma. Ses références sont pointues, nombreuses, intarissables, et l’amateur éclairé, pour ne pas dire plutôt l’expert, saura retrouver dans les séquences de Violent Days des hommages aux classiques. La Notte d’Antonioni, Psychose, Les Désaxés de John Huston, Samedi soir, dimanche matin de Karel Reisz, Nashville de Robert Altman… Il n’est pas important de les repérer pour apprécier le film. Mais l’amour que Lucile Chaufour porte à ces cinématographies signifiantes et esthétiques permet d’en mesurer la portée instinctive, de capter pour de bon l’énergie communicative de cette histoire de déjante du samedi soir avant / après un concert de rock au Havre.

Propos recueillis par Stéphane LEDIEN
Violent Days > sorti en salles le 16 septembre 2009

Violent Days – Bande Annonce 1

Violent Days – Bande Annonce 2

Direção: Sidney Lumet

Roteiro: Reginald Rose

Elenco: E.G. Marshall, Jack Klugman, Ed Binns, Henry Fonda, Joseph Sweeney, George Voskovec, Robert Webber, Lee J. Cobb, Ed Begley, Jack Warden, Martin Balsam, John Fiedler (I)

Um classico de Hollywood de 1957 este filme conta o evento de deliberação de um júri que deve decidir de forma unânime se um jovem rapaz latino é culpado de matar o próprio pai ou não. Contando com a dúvida da personagem de Henry Fonda todas as frustrações, preconceitos e principalmente a dificuldade de se responsabilizar pelo futuro da vida de um homem.

Contando com um roteiro coeso, o filme decide colocar o espectador no papel o Júri, já que nunca podemos sair daquela sala de confinamento. Na verdade vemos duas cenas fora daquela sala, no começo do filme, na chegada ao julgamento, quando o júri é enviado para a sala e vemos uma fusão da imagem do réu e da sala e no final com a saída dos jurados. Portanto somos levados a ver os fatos da forma que eles são debatidos pelo júri e daí tirar nosso julgamento.

Acredito que essa é uma decisão acertada do diretor do filme, já que sem o pré-julgamento não nos preocupamos com o mistério de quem matou o pai do garoto e sim somente se o garoto matou ou não o pai.

Como um filme inspirado em uma peça teatral,  mais importante que as imagens dos atos, a conversa (texto) sobre os atos e a misce-em-scene dos personagens é mais importante,  já que estamos presos aquela sala e o filme quer, além de nos deixar julgar pelo argumento, mostrar um painel do preconceito e dos pré-julgamentos da sociedade americana na época.

Além do texto é interessante notar como as atuações são primordiais para o sucesso filme,  Henry Fonda é sereno e tranqüilo em seu modo de mostrar a sua concepção da verdade, enquanto Lee J. Cobb esta ótimo como o pai de família nervoso e com raiva reprimida que pede a condenação. Mas excepcional no filme é a atuação do senhor (Joseph Sweeney), percebemos como ele se identifica com o outro senhor que foi testemunha do caso e como ele suplanta aquela identificação no seu “triunfo” final no filme.

Contando com uma série de personagens que não tem nome e sim números  de designação do júri essa obra-prima do diretor Sidney Lumet lembra que somos todos iguais que não são nomes, descendência, etnias ou classe social que nos classificam e sim nosso caráter.

Se quiserem ver uma crítica mais detalhada desse mesmo filme aconselho o site do meu amigo Roberto: http://cinemaedebate.wordpress.com/2009/09/29/doze-homens-e-uma-sentenca-1957/

Assim que soube da história fiquei curiosa para ver o filme, ainda mais depois que soube que ele é referência em aulas sobre negociação. De fato, o filme inteiro mostra um processo de convencimento e através daquilo que mais me encanta na vida: o processo racional.

Confesso que passei por todos os estágios das personagens do filme, achando Davis (o homem que tinha dúvidas sobre a culpa do menino desde o início) um ingênuo e, ao longo do filme, fui tendo as minhas dúvidas como os outros 11 homens. Me senti parte do júri, a 13ª na sala.

E, no fim do filme, acho que teria votado ”NOT GUILTY” também…

Além do processo racional e de convencimento, adorei ver e comparar os homens da mesa com as pessoas que convivemos no dia-a-dia. Cada um representava um estereótipo de comportamento diferente, facilmente relacionado com as pessoas que convivemos hoje, mesmo que o filme tenha mais de 50 anos.

Por: Nathalia Jordão

Assisti ao filme “Doze homens e uma sentença” (1957), pela primeira vez, por indicação do meu pai, fã de longas sobre tribunal. O filme todo se passa numa sala de reunião em que doze jurados devem decidir se um homem deve ser condenado à pena de morte por assassinato. Apenas um, interpretado por Henry Fonda, não tem certeza sobre sua culpa. Longe das clássicas tramas que versam sobre julgamentos, o filme é inesquecível por mostrar como é hipócrita um mundo em que todos têm certeza. A história poderia se passar em qualquer outro ambiente em que decisões são tomadas: numa empresa, numa escola, numa família. O fantástico no longa do diretor Sidney Lumet é desconstruir certezas, uma após a outra. Que prevaleçam as dúvidas.

Por: Adriana Barsotti

Dog Day Afternoon.

Director: Sidney Lumet

Guión: Frank Pierson, basado en un artículo periodístico de F. K. Pluge y Thomas Moore.

Intérpretes: Al Pacino, John Cazale, Charles Durning, Chris Sarandon, Sully Boyar, Marcia Jean Kurtz.

Fotografía: Victor J. Kemper.

EEUU. 1975. 112 mins. aprox.

New York, New York

          Aunque su fama no alcanza la de nombres como Woody Allen o Martin Scorsese, Sidney Lumet es uno de los realizadores que más y mejor ha retratado el pulso vital de la ciudad de Nueva York. Una de sus aportaciones más significativas en ese sentido es sin duda esta Dog Day Afternoon, filme basado en un artículo periodístico que relató las extravagantes circunstancias de un atraco a un banco que se produjo una calurosa mañana(-tarde) de agosto de 1972 en Brooklyn.

Viaje a ninguna parte

          Lumet aborda su película desde una perspectiva falsamente teatral: “teatral” por su compresión escénica –la mayor parte de los acontecimientos transcurren en el interior de una anodina sucursal bancaria, y los que no, transcurren en la acera o en la barbería de enfrente- y por el subsiguiente careo constante entre los diversos peones de la trama (canalizados por Sonny/Pacino); “falsamente” porque Lumet es un narrador más que solvente, y en la realización de esta interesante película pone en solfa los diversos elementos cinematográficos con la inteligencia y el talento que lo caracteriza: desde ese inicio del filme de corte documentalista -donde vemos diversas imágenes anodinas de la ciudad hasta que en una imagen anodina aparece el mismísimo Al Pacino y sabemos que la trama va empezar-, Lumet marca con fuego las normas de su historia, con una puesta en escena atenta a la vez a los focos humanos y al retrato de los comportamientos de las masas; con un vivaz contraste de planos descriptivos que ora diluye, ora enfatiza la perenne sensación claustrofóbica de la unidad escénica; con una sabia renuncia a la música que se compensa con una utilización diría que de crescendo asfixiante de los sonidos diegéticos (los gritos de las multitudes, las sirenas de los coches de policía, los motores del reactor) … El espectador pronto tiene la sensación de que Sonny, más allá de tratar de financiar una operación de cambio de sexo, sólo trata de rebelarse contra una soledad de la que él es un mero botón de muestra. No hay rastro de violencia alguna constante el metraje, antes bien un tono que bracea entre lo cómico y lo dramático, escorándose en este costado conforme el cansancio va haciendo mella en el atracador y los acontecimientos –ese viaje a ninguna parte- empiezan a precipitarse.

Conexión Spike Lee

Viendo el retrato de los personajes y la descripción de un ambiente que efectúa esta Dog Day Afternoon nos acordamos de otro ilustre realizador-de-Nueva-York, Spike Lee: la compresión en el tiempo y el espacio, y la sensación de hallarnos ante sentimientos y pulsiones humanas cuales cajas de truenos a punto de abrirse, se recogen y son puntos identitarios de dos de las mejores películas de Lee, Do the right thing y Summer of Sam. A pesar de sus evidentes diferencias estilísticas (y por supuesto la distancia generacional), es evidente que Lumet y Lee comparten inquietudes temáticas y una fuerza expositiva –implosiva/explosiva- que no es ajena a su pasión por la vida en  la ciudad de los rascacielos. En ese sentido, cabría incluso especular que ese divertimento de lujo que es The Inside Man homenajea en cierto modo la película que nos ocupa. Ya sé que las dos obras no se parecen en nada, ya sé que aparentemente serían el anverso y el reverso de la narración de un atraco a un banco. Pero ambas contienen el mismo nexo común al que acabo de referirme: un vistazo entre jocoso y dramático, muy rico en matices, sobre los peones de una trama huidiza.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0072890/

http://www.awesomefilm.com/script/dog_day_afternoon.txt

http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/dog_day_afternoon/

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19750101/REVIEWS/501010313/1023

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

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores