Din Tara Zapezilor

Mi-am promis sa nu mai scriu despre “4,3,2″, dar uite ca o fac inca o data. Ultima data - si nu scriu eu, ci e recenzia facuta in “The NewYorker” (care mi se pare inspirata si nu exaltata):

n the opening shot of “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days,” we see a table littered with crockery, a fishtank, and an ashtray. A hand reaches in from the left and taps the ash from a cigarette; only then do we pull back and discover to whom the hand belongs. Most directors would have done the opposite, especially at the outset of a film. But Christian Mungiu, who wrote and directed this new movie, is intent on a story about sundering, about the horror of being invaded and parted from ourselves, and this early case of dismemberment suggests that he has arrived at an honest, if disturbing, way to tell it.

The smoker is Gabita (Laura Vasiliu), a young Romanian woman. We are in a student dorm in Bucharest, and the camera roams the corridors like a hound. There is a strong sense that, were we to follow in the tracks of any of these people, we would stumble upon a crisis. As it is, one figure takes command: Otilia (Anamaria Marinca), Gabita’s roommate. She is cannier and more self-possessed than Gabita, yet there is something threadbare at the edges of her soul. The date is 1987, two years before the end of the Ceauşescu regime, and the middle-aged folk that we encounter seem to have made their accommodation with its rigors. It is the young who seem prematurely sapped, as is soon made clear when Otilia visits two hotels in an effort to book a room. In both places the clerk hardly bothers to look at her, and a smile is out of the question: for all the lack of overt political suppression in the film, something about the dulling of basic courtesies tells us everything about life under the totalitarian grind. Otilia, standing at the check-in desk, might be a lover, wearily seeking refuge for a tryst. In fact, she is dealing not with love but its consequences. And the love isn’t even hers.
Gabita is pregnant. By how many months, exactly, she is too vague to calculate. (That is the job of the title.) A listless victim of fate, she wants an abortion, and it is up to Otilia to help her through the ordeal. Abortion is illegal, hence the hotel room, and hence the arrival of Mr. Bebe (Vlad Ivanov), with his coughing car, his bullet-headed caution, and his unamusing name. He is a terminator, expert in the ending of advanced pregnancies, and you should be warned that “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days” flinches neither from the procedures nor the outcome of his trade. There is plenty here to fuel both sides of the abortion debate: the grim and possibly fatal results of driving the practice underground will strengthen the hand of the pro-choice lobby, but, equally, when Otilia kneels on the bathroom floor, surveying the remnant of lost humanity, half wrapped in a towel, the look of dark and wondering pity in her eyes is enough to convince us that here is a deed of unutterable gravity.

Yet this is not an issue movie. We are not being forced to vote, and the characters are defined less by any stated beliefs than by the moral texture of their actions. Look carefully at Bebe as he unpacks his briefcase of crude tools: he is made faceless, filmed from chest to thigh, and that suits his status as a predatory machine. And, once he has departed, having exacted a terrible payment for his services, look at Otilia: She leaves Gabita to rest and goes, as promised, to her boyfriend’s parents’ house for a birthday dinner. There she sits at a table, surrounded by gleaming food and idle chatter, her thoughts miles away and fathoms deep. Again, hands reach in from the side, this time for pickles and wine, but the camera holds steady, minute upon minute, and we gaze at her, face to face. How can people feast when she has just come from the pits of degradation, and must shortly return to dispose of an unwanted fetus? Disposal, incidentally, is recommended via the garbage chute of a high-rise apartment building; try going from this film to “Sweeney Todd,” with its corpses dumped for comic effect, and see how long you last.

All of which makes “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days” sound more or less unwatchable. Mungiu’s pacing is so sure, however, in its switching from loose to taut, and the concentration of his leading lady so unwavering, that the movie, which won the Palme d’Or at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, feels more like a thriller than a moody wallow. When someone approaches Otilia from behind, on an ill-lit street, you brace yourself for the worst. But the film stops short of the worst, by an inch—or, rather, it becomes a concise survey of how to deal with the worst. Do you cave in helplessly, like Gabita? Do you sour into something nastier than the system that bred you, like Bebe? Or do you summon your depleted energy, like Otilia, and brave it out? If so, are we allowed to imagine her, two years later, crowding with tens of thousands of others in front of the Central Committee building and howling down a tyrant? You bet.

sa ma intorc acasa. Mai mult pentru ca vreau sa fiu alaturi de “haita mea” si sa imi ling ranile. Sper sa ii pot tine piept mamei - are un talent inimitabilde a spune exact ceea ce doare, in cel mai incomod mod. Apoi, se uita plina de mirare si zice “pai, ce? nu-i asa?”, eventual inca o remarca despre adevarul incomod. Sper doar sa se abtina.

Banuiesc ca daca as fi trait in America, as fi rezonat altfel la povesti cu cowboy. “No Country for Old Men” este o poveste moderna cu cowboy; este ecranizarea romanului omonim al lui Corman McCarthy. Din pacate, nici numele lui nu imi spune mare lucru, desi faptul ca este comparat cu Faulkner si Melville ma face sa imi fie rusine de asta. Ok! am stabilit ca eu si cultura americana contemporana nu suntem cele mai bune prietene; din pacate nu reactionez la stimulii americani contemporani, in ciuda unora dintre blogurile pe care le citesc.

Lasand contextul la o parte si metafore si paralele vizibile celor sensibili cauzei, putem trece la film. “No Country for Old Men” este ceea ce ar fi vrut sa fie “A History of Violence” a lui Cronenberg. Este un alt film genial al fratilor Coen, alaturi de Miller’s Crossing, Oh, Brother where art thou?, Fargo s.a.m.d. Este povestea lui Llewelyn Moss , vanator sarac ce gaseste 2 milioane de dolari. Este povestea lui Cigurh, are omoara pe oricine intalneste (in fine, aproape, 90%) - si nu ii omora oricum; are un “cattle gun“, ciudata arma si ciudata alegere. Este povestea lui Ed Tom Bell, politist batran, harsait, “cu traditie”, din tata in fiu. Ed Tom incearca sa il ajute pe Moss, il urmareste pe Cigurh cu tenacitate si o oarecare lipsa de entuziasm. E un om ce isi face datoria. Putem face o “analiza pe text” sa gasim metafore si antiteze ieftine si pilde marete si universale sau sa explic de ce povestea nu e un cliseu ambulant explicand finalul diferit de al filmelor americane standard. Nu are rost.

Cinematografia este superba - peisaje frumoase, cadre echilibrate. Fiecare scena are un rost, chiar daca pur si simplu pentru a cunoaste un pic mai bine personajul. Violenta abunda, scenele de actiune sunt contrabalansate de ritmul lent al povestirii, iar actorii sunt la inaltime.

Una din scenele mele preferate se petrece intr-o benzinarie. Pur si simplu doi oameni se intalnesc si stau de vorba. M-au trecut fiori pe sira spinarii. Un strop, pentru savoare:….

pentru cei curiosi - un interviu cu McCormac si fratii Coen. Parerea mea e ca “No Country for Old Men” e un film tip “ignorance is bliss”; mai bine il gusti cu mintea deschisa, dar interviul nu dezvaluie nimic. E mai mult o discutie simpatica.

Dumnezeu sa il odihneasca!

Bolero (1)

Bolero(2)

Cine ar fi ghicit ca in Liban folosesc caramel pentru epilat? Eu nu. Asta a fost prima surpriza a filmului “Caramel”. O lume plina de femei, de mici placeri si mari probleme. Problemele sunt provocate de multe ori de barbati. Lipsa virginitatii, existenta unei sotii, existenta unei foste amante devenita sotie, curatenie, epilare, pedichiura, o noua coafura. O lume in care a-ti tunde parul e o decizie importanta, luata cu grija, gandindu-te la ce vor spune cei de acasa. In acelasi timp, o lume plina de caldura si de bunatate. Povesti de dragoste a caror evolutie o afli din amanunte si nuante. Barbati omniprezenti si rar vazuti pe ecran.

Probabil una dintre cele mai impresionante secvente din film e cea in care o tanara iese din coafor, tunsa, fericita si cu o expresie usor vinovata. Se uita surprinsa si entuziasmata in toate vitrinele magazinelor.

Les Temoins este un film cumintel, atat de cuminte cat poate fi un film despre SIDA, despre una din primele victime ale bolii. Un film care nu se sfieste sa arate sex homosexual, sau mame care nu isi iubesc copii, sau femei fericite singure sau intr-o relatie deschisa.

Probabil ceea ce mi-a placut cel mai mult a fost tocmai aceasta senzatie de normalitate, de minte deschisa care isi zice “da, asta e viata… ne indragostim de cine nu ne asteptam, iertam celor dragi mai mult decat e cazul, cateodata un strain face mai multe pentru noi decat o ruda de sange”. Daca e placut sa vezi un film in care homosexualitatea nu e privita ca ceva extraordinar (cum am perceput-o eu in “Mala Educacion” sau in “Hedwig and the Angry Itch” - filme ce mi-au lasat amintirea unei lumi colorate, fabuloase, aparte), in acelasi timp ma gandesc ca tocmai cei care ar avea nevoie sa le fie amintit acest lucru vor ocoli filmul.

pe curand!

Ar fi multe spus de nu am mai scris in ultima vreme. Pana una alta, pot sa spun ca cel mai bun leac atunci cand treci printr-o despartire (sau poate nu e despartire, poate e numai ceva temporar, naiba s-o ia de situatie, ca nu merita sa stai sa despici firul in patru cu ce s-a intamplat) - cel mai bun leac e un concert de-al lui Mika
Ei, da, ne-am speriat atunci cand am ajuns la intrare si am vazut o groaza pustoaice. Ne-am retras mai in spate, unde puteam respira si eram inconjurate de “fani” cu varsta mai apropiata. In orice caz, la doua minute dupa ce s-a facut intuneric si Mika topaia pe scena, am uitat de pustoaice, de gagic, topaiam si urlam ca nebunele - exact de ce aveam nevoie ca sa uitam, sau ca sa trecem mai departe, sau pur si simplu sa iesim din monotonia unei toamne ploioase.

Pentru toti cei care l-au indragit pe Peter O’Toole atunci cand era tanar, inalt, cu ochi albastri si o fermeca pe Audrey Hepburn in “Cum sa furi un milion”, sau in Becket sau in… o groazade alte filme:

Cantecul e din coloana sonora a filmului Venus, pe care l-am vazut de curand.

Mi s-a rupt inima vazandu-l pe O’Toole batran si pricajit. Am plans la sfarsit. Bineinteles ca filmul nu seamana cu trailerul, cu ce am inteles din comentarii/critici, etc. “Quickly paced, sharply written” spune un comentator de pe imdb si nu pot sa fiu de acord. Ritmul filmului mi s-a parut lent, glumele nu pot fi descrise ca “sharp” sau “witty”, nu sunt sclipitoare, spirituale sau neasteptate. Asta nu inseamna ca sunt proaste, sau ca dialogul e tampit. Pur si simplu, batranii din film sunt asa cum era bunicul meu si pensionarii lui. Dialogul curge lin, mai degraba zambesti decat hohotesti.
Ma asteptam ca Venus sa fie o mica intriganta si nu e decat o fata ca oricare alta, comuna, speriata si luptandu-se sa mai aiba o farama de integritate. E aspra, dar toti tinerii sunt asprii nu? Intr-un cuvant, mi-a placut.

Nu avem inca 3 versiuni windows la activ. Doar 2.

Trist dar adevarat

Da, da, da

discutii cu un economist

daca inchid ochii, asta se va intampla

cadoul primit de ziua lui

se recunoaste in caricatura asta

de dimineata, am nevoie sa fiu trimis ala scoala….

De ce ar trebui sa ne ingrijoreze faptul ca femeile sunt discriminate? de ce ar trebui sa existe o legislatie corespunzatoare a concediilor de maternitate/paternitate si gradinite decente?

But rich countries undervalue women as well. Just look at the gap between male and female employment rates in America, Japan and western Europe, as Kevin Daly, an economist at Goldman Sachs, does in a recent study (see the left-hand chart). In Sweden, where around 70% of females aged 15-64 are in work, the gap is less than five percentage points. In America and Britain it is around a dozen points. In Italy, Japan and Spain it is over 20 points. Suppose, says Mr Daly, that women’s employment rates were raised to the same level as men’s; and suppose that GDP rose in proportion with employment. Then America’s GDP would be 9% higher, the euro zone’s would be 13% more, and Japan’s would be boosted by 16%.

macar pentru ca ne ustura la buzunar, zic cei de la “The economist”. Mai multe, aici