Los Mondos Sutiles, Eduardo Chapero-Jackson, 2012
gifs pessoais

Um encontro, subtil e profundo, da dança com a poesia de Antonio Machado.
josé

Nunca perseguí la gloria
ni dejar en la memoria
de los hombres mi canción;
yo amo los mundos sutiles,
ingrávidos y gentiles
como pompas de jabón.
Me gusta verlos pintarse
de sol y grana, volar
bajo el cielo azul, temblar
súbitamente y quebrarse.
Antonio Machado, Proverbios y cantares, I

El hombre es por natura la bestia paradójica,
un animal absurdo que necesita lógica.
Creó de nada un mundo y, su obra terminada,
«Ya estoy en el secreto se dijo, todo es nada.»
Antonio Machado, Proverbios y cantares, XVI

música
Pascal Gaigne - Ingrávidos, Pt. 1 (from "Los mundos sutile" OST)
https://youtu.be/9ldLJrVK7s0




Los Mondos Sutiles
2012 ‧ Documentary ‧ 1h 25m
Initial release: October 25, 2012
Director: Eduardo Chapero-Jackson
Screenplay: Eduardo Chapero-Jackson
Music composed by: Pascal Gaigne
Production company: Global Timaia, S.L.
Cast: Nach, Miguel Ballabriga, Carmen Fumero, Joaquin Abella

20/12/18

2 fotos - Ver álbum

The Silence of Others' (El silencio de otros), Amudena Carracedo and Robert Bahar, 2018

Neste ano de 2018, em que se cumprem 82 anos do início da Guerra Civil, um documentário super premiado em Berlim, que de uma forma sóbria mostra como a impunidade e a injustiça permanecem quando as instituições e as sociedades são cada vez menos democráticas, para usar um eufemismo. A ver absolutamente. Hoje, grande parte da consciência crítica do mundo está confinada à produção e realização de documentários que raramente saem da clausura dos festivais. Há hoje um fascismo na distribuição e exibição de filmes
que é assustador.

José


Film Review | Berlin 2018
by Stephen Dalton in Hollywood Reporter

Endorsed by Pedro Almodovar, Emmy-winning directors Almudena Carracedo and Robert Bahar chronicle Spain's ongoing battles over its bloody past.
Calls for justice mostly fall on stony ground in The Silence of Others, a stirring documentary about the victims of Spanish dictator Gen. Francisco Franco and their ongoing fight to extract some kind of legal payback. Directed by the Emmy-winning duo Almudena Carracedo and Robert Bahar (Made in L.A.), and boasting executive producer credits for Spanish cinema heavyweights Pedro and Augustin Almodovar, this Berlin world premiere is a solid piece of in-depth factual reportage. Conventional in form, but well-crafted and informative, it should find a natural home at festivals and on small-screen platforms. The Almodovar brand may boost niche theatrical potential, too.

The Silence of Others is woven together from individuals' stories, mostly tragic, some inspiring. An elderly woman tends a roadside shrine where her murdered mother's naked body was dumped by Franco's militia decades before. An 80-year-old grandmother jets halfway around the world in her tortuous quest to exhume her father's bones from a mass grave. Women whose newborns were taken for a sinister state-run eugenics program fight to expose the long-buried truth about their stolen offspring. Meanwhile, notorious Franco torturers like Antonio Gonzalez Pacheco, nicknamed Billy the Kid, still walk the streets of Madrid with impunity.

A quick history lesson early in the film sets up the backstory to these unresolved horrors. At the end of the Spanish Civil War, having seized power in a military coup, Franco's repressive regime cracked down on any lingering hint of leftist opposition with mass arrests, prison camps, forced labor, torture and execution. Estimates of extrajudicial killings during his four-decade rule top 100,000. Modern Spain is dotted with unmarked mass graves.

When Franco died in 1975, Spain moved quickly to embrace liberal democracy. In 1977, the Parliament passed the contentious Amnesty Law, which not only freed anti-Franco political prisoners but also pardoned his shadow army of murderers and torturers. In the interest of national healing and reconciliation, a mass act of collective amnesia was demanded. It was called El Pacto del Olvido, "the pact of forgetting."

But forgetting is not the same as forgiving. The Silence of Others chronicles a growing grassroots campaign among victims of the old regime who are seeking to overturn the Amnesty Law and drag Franco's surviving henchmen to justice. The process is slow and painstaking, but midway through the film this plucky bunch of senior citizens lands a sucker punch by persuading Argentine judge Maria Servini to mount a legal challenge under international law. As precedent, they cite the detention of former Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet in 1998 under a Spanish arrest warrant. The U.N. has also repeatedly urged Spain to repeal the law, arguing that it does not apply to crimes against humanity.

Patiently gathering material over six years, Carracedo and Bahar chronicle this blossoming movement with sober journalistic diligence. In aesthetic terms, they make scant concessions to visual poetry aside from occasional shots of a mountaintop sculpture commemorating Franco's victims, which serves as a recurring motif. There is no attempt to illuminate historical injustice with the stylistic daring of Joshua Oppenheimer's The Act of Killing, for example, or Ari Folman's Waltz With Bashir. Serious subjects should not be treated flippantly, of course, but the Almodovar brothers could have brought a little of their signature visual sparkle to this fairly prosaic package.

The Silence of Others does not leave viewers with a satisfying sense of closure. Two key campaigners die during the course of the production. Judge Servini lodges extradition requests for more than 20 former government officials suspected of human rights abuses, but they remain blocked by Spain to this day. Pro-Franco nationalists even stage rival protest rallies waving "Make Spain Great Again" placards. Even in the 21st century, tyrants still have their fan clubs. There is no big redemptive payoff here, just a few small victories and hopeful pointers to the future. The struggle continues. But this is still a very necessary story, delivered with rigor and conviction.

Venue: Berlin Film Festival (Panorama)
Production companies: Semilla Verde Productions, Lucernam Film
Cast: Jose Galantes, Carlos Slepoy, Maria Martin, Maria Servini
Directors, producers: Almudena Carracedo, Robert Bahar
Executive producers: Pedro Almodovar, Agustín Almodovar, Sally Jo Fifer, Sandie Vizquez Pedlow
Cinematographer: Almudena Carracedo
Editors: Kim Roberts, Ricardo Acosta
Music: Leonardo Heiblum, Jacobo Lueberman
Sales company: Cinephil, Tel Aviv
95 minutes

‹

›

29/11/18

3 fotos - Ver álbum

Silence Has no Wings, Kazuo Kuroki, 1966
gifs pessoais

Com um título extraído de um poema de Garcia Lorca, Silence Has no Wings é um dos filmes mais obscuramente belos do cinema japonês. O voo de uma borboleta que atravessa os olhos de uma criança e sinais de destroços de uma guerra onde o Japão perdeu "a sua capacidade de voar e sonhar como uma borboleta".
José


Silence Has no Wings
Initial release: 1966
Director: Kazuo Kuroki
Music composed by: Teizo Matsumura
Screenplay: Kazuo Kuroki, Yasuo Matsukawa, Hisaya Iwasa
Producers: Yasuo Matsukawa, Nobuyo Horiba, Kazuo Baba, Kôichi Miwa
Cinematography by Tatsuo Suzuki
with Mariko Kaga, Hiroyuki Nagato, Shôichi Ozawa
Japan
Language Japanese

música
Teizō Matsumura - Silence Has No Wings (1966)
https://youtu.be/uBB1vlExQFo

24/11/18

2 fotos - Ver álbum

John Akomfrah, Vertigo Sea, 2015
installation

John Akomfrah é um dos artistas e cineastas mais importantes numa reflexão, profunda e crítica, sobre o mundo actual e sobre o que pensadores diversos designaram como o pós-colonialismo. Pensadores como Franz Fanon, com o seu imenso Black Skin, White Masks, de 1952 ou Achille Mbembe, com o seu
Critique of Black Reason, de 2017, entre outros autores.
Finalmente e actualmente, decorre uma exposição de John Akomfrah, em Portugal, no CCB. A não perder!
José


Your hand is heavy, Night, upon my brow.
I bear no heart mercuric like the clouds,
to dare.
Exacerbation from your subtle plough.
Woman as a clam, on the sea's crescent.
I saw your jealous eye quench the sea's
Fluorescence, dance on the pulse incessant
Of the waves. And I stood, drained
Submitting like the sands, blood and brine
Coursing to the roots. Night, you rained
Serrated shadows through dank leaves
Till, bathed in warm suffusion of your dappled cells
Sensations pained me, faceless, silent as night thieves.
Hide me now, when night children haunt the earth
I must hear none! These misted cells will yet
Undo me; naked, unbidden, at Night's muted birth.

Wole Soyinka(1934-)

Nocturne, Lars von Trier, 1980
gifs pessoais


The Machinery Of Night
Poem by Michael Strunge (1958-1986)

Slowly the night is charged by the city's lights.
The star buttons blink
and on the moon-screen the first images can be seen.
Oh, I am lulled as on a steamer,
a heavy express train through the dark,
fly high in the Machinery of Night.
The clouds of dream-steam
whisper whitely to the earth.
The Machinery of Night works away, absorbing human souls.
The dark is packed tight with a buzz of energy...

I am at a concert in the Machinery of Rock.
The week's survivors crowd around the small stage
the air is hot with music.
We are in trance and urge
transcending
the boundaries between the sexes,
between dimensions of reality,
dancing in trance-formations
somewhere in the sleeping city.
We are exhausted little angels
with wings of future-song,
with the child in our blood and a fag in our mug.

Our skin is of the frailest dream
and our hearts gleam brighter than neon.
We've been blighted by the harsh lights of day,
bleeding pink snow,
speared by newspaper headlines.
We are a part of the Machinery of Night
transform fear into friendship.
We wear our brains with pride
exchange dreams and cigarettes,
fill ourselves with ecstasy and music
change sex and masks...

Later we go home our separate ways
pass through the Machinery of Night with new identities
along publicly determined routes.
Large black lumps of sleep fall
from the oil-sky into our eyes.
We fall asleep as single-cell organisms
from the time when the earth was sea.
Michael Strunge (1958-1986)



Director: Lars von Trier
Screenplay: Lars von Trier
Cinematography: Tom Elling
Editor: Tómas Gislason
Cast: Solbjørg Højfeldt

Dovlatov, Aleksei German Jr, 2018

Aleksei German Jr, filho de um dos maiores realizadores russos de todos os tempos, continua a construir uma obra que vai ganhando a sua cidadania e independência, sem evidenciar qualquer complexo de inferioridade.
O filme, espantoso, foi galardoado com o Urso de Prata de extraordinária contribuição artística, em Berlim. Neste caso, temos um filme brilhante sobre um dos mais brilhantes escritores russos da segunda metade do século xx, Sergei Dovlatov (1941-1990).
José

"My conscious life was a road to the summits o f banality. At the price of enormous sacrifices, I came to understand what people had tried to instill in me since childhood. But by now these truisms have become part of my personal experience."
The Zone, Sergei Dovlatov, translated by Anne Frydman, ,Alma books, 2013, page 40


Dovlatov
Directed by Aleksei German Jr
Produced by
Andrey Savelev
Artyom Vasilev
Konstantin Ernst
Dariusz Jablonski
Screenplay by
Aleksei German Jr
Yuliya Tupikina
Starring
Milan Marić
Danila Kozlovsky
Helena Sujecka
Artur Beschastny
Anton Shagin
Svetlana Khodchenkova
Elena Lyadova
Cinematography Lukasz Zal
Production
company
Art and Pop Corn
Metrafilms
SAGa
Distributed by WDSSPR(Russia) e Netflix(United States)
Release date
17 February 2018 (Berlin)
Running time
126 minutes
Country Russia
Language Russian

20/11/18

2 fotos - Ver álbum

Imagens de After Life, título original em Japonês Wonderful Life (ワンダフルライフ Wandafuru Raifu),de 1998, do realizador Hirokazu Koreeda, com os actores Arata, Oda Erika e Terajima Susumu.



São longas as memórias que não morrem, nem de morte natural. Em cada uma delas, cabe um vida escolhida na penumbra de um corpo tocado pela graça do que sentiu, no encontro precário e vago com a vida. A morte é ter que escolher um momento único, um mundo único. Só na morte, passado, presente e futuro se tornam o mesmo e único instante, aquele que nos é dado escolher como deixa de saída de um filme onde fomos protagonistas até nos desvanecermos em secundários e meros figurantes.

É sempre de memórias que se faz o cinema, no trabalho subterrâneo do tempo-



talvez me ignore
e já nada saiba escolher-
e só me reste morrer
nas memórias que já não tenho
no meu pensamento nu e branco
que conhece o silêncio interior da neve
e nele adormece sem deixar vestígios-

talvez seja um corredor
num velho prédio desabitado desabado-
e leve em ficheiros que ninguém lê
a memória de um mundo
em que ninguém já vive-

talvez invente a poente de mim
um outro sol a nascer-
josé

A poente de Oriente- Japão