Sometimes these five-star theaters serve up nothing but junk, but occasionally they actually make a smart move. One such move is this Oscar showcase, where we get a chance to catch those Oscar-nominated films we missed out on for whatever reason.
Today’s pick was "Michael Clayton," the debut from the legendary screenwriter Tony Gilroy (the guy behind the Bourne trilogy). It’s a story about the rise of a legal fixer—basically a high-stakes corporate cleaner—who finds himself facing massive moral dilemmas along the way. Honestly, it’s one of the best thrillers from recent years, though it does demand a bit of a more focused audience. The plot gets pretty tangled because they use all those classic filmmaking tricks: adding a million subplots that seem disconnected, flashbacks, repeating motifs, and an intense focus on tiny details. In reality, it’s a fairly straightforward story, just heavily spiced up, which makes it a little tough to follow at times.
On another note, watching movies at AMC Theatres has become quite the experience lately. To my left sat a young couple; the guy seemed to grasp almost everything, so he had to spend half the movie explaining the plot to his girlfriend. To my right was another couple, probably the oldest I've ever seen in a theater—both looked to be in their 60s (watching a thriller, no less!). They didn't understand a thing, but they kept chatting away, clearly trying to apply the old "two heads are better than one" logic. In front of me was a group of teenagers who lost the thread within thirty minutes. Once they realized they weren't following, they just gave up and spent the rest of the time texting, whispering, and scrolling through photos. Everything was said loud enough for everyone to hear, so even if I wanted to tune it out, I couldn't. It was incredibly grating. (I could go off on a tangent about how age and political leanings play into this—old folks on the right, young ones on the left, and the kids who can't even vote in the middle—but I won't, even though there's plenty to say there.) It feels like every single screening I've caught in the last two months has someone talking loudly the entire time. (Yesterday at Beverly Hills, it was a whole different kind of madness. Basically, they were showing a classic drama, and the crowd was packed with about 30 hardcore nostalgics who wouldn't stop shouting things like, "Oh, remember when that actor was around!" or "Man, remember what he used to do in those old movies? Kids today wouldn't know talent if it hit them!" It got so bad I actually had to walk out of my beloved Beverly Hills cinema for the first time ever.)
Anyway, back to the film. This crew is top-tier. The cinematographer is Bob Elswit, a regular collaborator with Andersen, and the score is by the great James Newton Howard. It was edited by Gilroy's younger brother, and the producer credits include heavyweights like Anthony Minghella, Steven Soderbergh, and Sydney Pollack—people who actually matter in Hollywood. As for the cast, you've got Tilda Swinton and George Clooney, plus Tom Wilkinson and Pollack himself. I wouldn't single anyone out specifically—honestly, I don't see why this kind of ensemble acting even needs an Oscar, since Tilda is the only one who truly stands out while everyone else is just "solid"—but they work together so well that the overall performance is fantastic.
My overall impression is great. I was expecting just another mediocre Clooney movie, but as far as Best Picture nominations go, my vote goes straight to "Michael Clayton."
Gilroy uses very classic directing techniques, but those last four or five shots (the silent ones and the conversation with the taxi driver) are pure mastery. Plus, the script is written at an incredibly high level, which is exactly what you'd expect.
rustyseal40 said:@ruggedmarlin15... reading your posts, I get the impression you’re quite well-acquainted with the inner workings of the film festival. So, please, enlighten me: why does the festival refuse to screen films from DVD screeners and instead makes such a massive ordeal out of sourcing official prints? And more importantly, why is it that if you can't secure a proper film print, you simply scrap the screening altogether? It didn't bother me nearly as much when, for instance, during Saturday's screening of "Smiling Mrs. Beudet," a woman stepped onto the stage to explain the whole ridiculous mess regarding the DivX files—fine, I suppose I could overlook that. But once I realized this wasn't just an isolated incident with one single screening, but rather a recurring pattern across almost everything I've watched, well, that becomes a massive problem for me! If a screening is interrupted twice because the film was delivered on three different burned DVDs requiring someone to swap them out mid-movie (Chantal Akerman), then fine—I might tolerate that at some visual arts college, a university seminar, or some obscure academy. But here at Kino Europa? Honestly, absolutely not!!!
So, what was the movie actually like? Is it worth checking out?
feralgardener59 said:God, what amateur hour. 👎 They really thought they did something with that cheap Russian-style "ruble" aesthetic, but if there aren't any subtitles, you're just out of luck. 😁
Alright, just go back and read my first point one more time.
Linda Parker2 said:Where are all the comments? Come on, people—I can't even make up my own mind about Tracker 2.0. 😁
Bobby — disappointed. Given everything there was to say about the younger John F. Kennedy and how people actually perceived him, it’s such a shame that Martin Sheen leaned so hard into those tired, bland clichés.
What was Redacted like?
What kind of comments, man? I’m constantly posting stuff here that either nobody reads or people just bash me for afterward, so I figured I’d just stop writing altogether. Whether it's the second festival or whatever, people either don't show up or they just love to complain—but they realized long ago that the best move is to just shut up and stop writing.
Watched:
"The Smiling Lady Beudet" - Germaine Dulac - interesting enough, but without sound or subtitles (at least English ones, because I’m not about to sit there guessing what they're saying in French when I don't know the language) it was pretty exhausting. "Girl in Uniform" - Leontina Sagan - almost brilliant. At the very least, it was excellent. "Dancing, Girl, Dancing" - Dorothy Arzner - easy on the eyes, interesting story, good vibes. "Orlando" - Sally Potter - the idea is solid (well, the book is solid), but the execution is weak. A bit pretentious and honestly, kind of a letdown. "Tracker 2.0" - Alex Cox - I haven't seen "Tracker" or anything else by Cox, but this was top-tier stuff. The camera work and directing parody the genre brutally at times, and that final sequence where they shoot off the names of Leoneov's stuntmen as a parody of actual bullets is hilarious. Positive vibes here.
I couldn't make it to "Bobby" or "Redacted" because Antonioni's films were playing over in Beverly Hills at the same time. I'm also going to have to miss Seidl ("Import/Export") and Sokurov ("Alexandra"), much to my huge disappointment, but that's just how it goes.
Tomorrow I'm still debating whether to catch the Chantal Akerman film. It gets high marks everywhere and even made it into that famous book... "1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die." My only gripe is that it runs for 200 minutes, but that's not even the main issue—it's that Antonioni is on in the evening, so I'm wondering if I can actually stomach two heavy hitters in one day.
I saw Polimac once and Mima Simić constantly. Since he deals with gender studies anyway, I bet the next Chronicle will have a report on the Human Rights Watch Film Festival regarding the women's programming.
Overall impression is way worse than I initially thought: 1. All the side program films generally lack subtitles, which means I have to hunt down Swinton's lines whenever they start getting fancy with Victorian speech. 2. The first Germaine Dulac film was shown completely silent (mostly, anyway; before every side screening, they go on stage and give these intros like, "We couldn't get this or that to work, so we had to show the film anyway because better late than never"... seriously, I heard that at almost every single screening. 3. Everything is being played off a DVD, which means a small screen and a crappy feel. Total waste. 4. The scheduling is a disaster—Antonioni is in Beverly Hills, and college finals are in full swing (a few hardcore cinephiles chose studying over the Human Rights Film Festival, which tells you everything you need to know).
Anyway, if you can, go see Seidl and Sokurov. The Gianvito and Aaltonen films look interesting too, if you're looking at the main lineup. As for the side programs, you know the drill—Varda and Jan Švankmajer are must-sees, and tomorrow it's Akerman, if you're into that sort of thing.
Look, I already said that, in a general sense, I don't care about your opinion or anyone else's. And I mean that when people drop useless fluff like, "Oh, there were tons of girls at the theater," or whatever. Or when people—and yeah, you’re included here—start dumping trivial, pointless observations on me. You know the type: calling me stubborn, saying my take is trash, acting like I'm trying too hard to impress you with my knowledge, telling me I don't need an explanation, or leaving those dumb comments about how I supposedly took something out of context. It's just noise.
Drew White said:Heh, you're a real comedian. What are you even doing on this forum then? It’s clear you aren't interested in actual discussion—do you honestly think people are just sitting around waiting for your input? Or do you think we should rename this entire site to a dedicated space for people who share the exact same views as a "respectable pacifist"? I won't even dignify the rest of what you wrote... Look, fine. Go ahead and carry on however you like; that's all I have to say. There is zero point in continuing such an unconstructive dialogue, which certainly isn't the purpose of this platform. If it were up to me, I’d remove you from here entirely, as you provide more friction than value. Instead, I'll just leave you with a brief summary of the rules:
Short version All our guidelines essentially boil down to this: Do not do to others what you wouldn't want done to you. Avoid arguments and insults, and contribute to the constructive side of the Forum.
I'm looking for some real talk here—only people who actually know what they're talking about. Let's get a serious discussion going. 😁 Of course people aren't just sitting around waiting for me to chime in. Honestly, I’m probably going to be posting way less around here from now on.
Drew White said:Heh, you're a real comedian. What are you even doing on this forum then? It’s clear you aren't interested in actual discussion—do you honestly think people are just sitting around waiting for your input? Or do you think we should rename this entire site to a dedicated space for people who share the exact same views as a "respectable pacifist"? I won't even dignify the rest of what you wrote... Look, fine. Go ahead and carry on however you like; that's all I have to say. There is zero point in continuing such an unconstructive dialogue, which certainly isn't the purpose of this platform. If it were up to me, I’d remove you from here entirely, as you provide more friction than value. Instead, I'll just leave you with a brief summary of the rules:
Short version All our guidelines essentially boil down to this: Do not do to others what you wouldn't want done to you. Avoid arguments and insults, and contribute to the constructive side of the Forum.
Look, what you said was pretty unfair and honestly just totally misses the point. But I'll say it again—I'm going to be posting way less from here on out.
Drew White said:Heh, you're a real comedian. What are you even doing on this forum then? It’s clear you aren't interested in actual discussion—do you honestly think people are just sitting around waiting for your input? Or do you think we should rename this entire site to a dedicated space for people who share the exact same views as a "respectable pacifist"? I won't even dignify the rest of what you wrote... Look, fine. Go ahead and carry on however you like; that's all I have to say. There is zero point in continuing such an unconstructive dialogue, which certainly isn't the purpose of this platform. If it were up to me, I’d remove you from here entirely, as you provide more friction than value. Instead, I'll just leave you with a brief summary of the rules:
Short version All our guidelines essentially boil down to this: Do not do to others what you wouldn't want done to you. Avoid arguments and insults, and contribute to the constructive side of the Forum.
Oh, for crying out loud. Seriously? Give me a break.
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
I am, sure, but that honestly has zero to do with my previous post to you.
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
I never claimed the tension was fading for you, and frankly, I don't care what opinion you or "the crowd" happens to share.
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
Not much to chill out about here, considering I responded to your post with a perfectly normal tone.
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
Oh yeah? Imagine that—the same guy twice in one thread. You don't see that every day, right?
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
Slow down there, buddy. You learn something new every single day...
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
Nah, but hey, slow down there—you live and you learn...
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
Take it easy...
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
Why wouldn't I? Good grief, I watch movies and read about them! It's all for you and the ladies.
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
I wasn't explaining anything to you. Honestly, there's no need since you clearly get it yourself; I was just stating my take on the ending you mentioned.
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
...like I said...
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
Of course I am. Blasphemy and insinuations are my secret weapons against all the Drew Whites out there.
Drew White said:Heh, you're certainly stubborn. For me, the tension isn't lost at all, and I'm certainly not alone in that opinion. That said, I won't say you're flat-out wrong; if that's how you experienced that segment, that's your prerogative. But take it down a notch; there's no need for that kind of attitude.
Heh, here we go again. Your take is pretty weak, trying to lecture me on why a film's ending *must* happen a certain way. 🙂 I don't see why you even brought up that other movie. Do you think because filmmakers from the same country work similarly, they all have to end their films the same way? Or maybe you're just trying to impress me with your film school trivia. 🙂 Regarding the famous ending, you don't need to explain it to me. As I stated in my original post, I understand perfectly why the ending is what it is, but you're taking my words out of context. The ending caught me off guard because I don't sit there during a movie calculating when it will finish. Beyond that, I suspect that is exactly what the director intended, and that's precisely the function of a jump cut in editing.
Drew White said:I second this. The crew at National is top-tier, and I’d also throw in Zeljko Luketica from 101ic. Whenever I’m about to watch something, I check what he’s written first. He has some brilliant pieces that really shape my expectations.
Getting back to the movie itself—I watched it yesterday with my girlfriend. Just like some people on this forum argued, she felt the scene where the blonde girl shows up at her boyfriend's mother's birthday party was overblown. And believe it or not, we didn't even fight about it. Personally, I didn't see it that way. It perfectly captures her sense of agony, from the ringing phone that nobody answers to the blowout fight with her boyfriend. It's tense and masterfully done. Not to mention the ending, where she tries to ditch her bag and runs through those dark streets while the handheld camera follows her. She almost falls out of the frame, reaches the rooftop, drops the bag, and just lets out this deep sigh. It’s brilliant. I will admit, though, that sudden cut at the very end caught me off guard, even if it makes perfect sense. As the blonde said: let's just never speak of this again. The end
I was actually talking about that specific sequence myself, and I wasn't even saying (and honestly, nobody else used that word either) that it was overplayed. The scene itself is brilliantly directed—it's sharp, direct, and totally unapologetic. But when you look at the movie as a whole, that moment kind of kills the dramatic tension that was building up. Don't spread misinformation.
Drew White said:I second this. The crew at National is top-tier, and I’d also throw in Zeljko Luketica from 101ic. Whenever I’m about to watch something, I check what he’s written first. He has some brilliant pieces that really shape my expectations.
Getting back to the movie itself—I watched it yesterday with my girlfriend. Just like some people on this forum argued, she felt the scene where the blonde girl shows up at her boyfriend's mother's birthday party was overblown. And believe it or not, we didn't even fight about it. Personally, I didn't see it that way. It perfectly captures her sense of agony, from the ringing phone that nobody answers to the blowout fight with her boyfriend. It's tense and masterfully done. Not to mention the ending, where she tries to ditch her bag and runs through those dark streets while the handheld camera follows her. She almost falls out of the frame, reaches the rooftop, drops the bag, and just lets out this deep sigh. It’s brilliant. I will admit, though, that sudden cut at the very end caught me off guard, even if it makes perfect sense. As the blonde said: let's just never speak of this again. The end
Look, Pui uses abrupt cuts like that in "Lazarescu," and I bet Nemescu would have done the exact same thing. It’s really the only right way to end a film with this kind of tone. You do it specifically to show that the ending doesn't actually matter, because in (this kind of, or any) reality, there is no such thing as an "ending." In an art form like film, you just have to mark the spot where it stops.
Zero response from anyone, so I'll just keep this brief:
I watched "avantura" today. It’s the film that launched Antonioni onto the world stage, and honestly, it might still be his most significant work to date. You see those recurring motifs—crosses on the walls, nods to high culture (this time featuring Leo Tolstoy, William Shakespeare, Wilde, and Titian), those pyramidal shot compositions, long takes, and very few close-ups... All in all, nothing feels groundbreakingly new, and there isn't much in terms of revolutionary directing techniques. The pacing is incredibly slow, though it's interesting how he plays with the motif of triplicity here (similar to what he did in "poraziti") before narrowing it down to a sense of duality (like in "kronika"). I actually found some cool structural parallels between the changing modes of transport—yacht, train, car (there's that trinity again!)—and the shifting partners—Anna, Claudia, and then the third—and how those changes play out.
The biggest takeaway for me is how fascinating the narrative is. It lures you into one kind of story, and then, before you even realize what happened, it shifts into something completely different, totally dismantling everything you thought you knew. It’s a beautiful modernist approach, the kind that Quentin Tarantino will later execute brilliantly, albeit in his own faster, punchier style in "Reservoir Dogs".
Also, this is the first film in Antonioni's cycle I've seen where the title doesn't actually give away what the movie is about. In fact, it’s the exact opposite—because, well, there simply is no "adventure."
Antonioni isn't on the schedule tomorrow, so if I have the time, I might write a deeper dive on "avantura." There’s plenty to dig into: from the behind-the-scenes drama (Lea Massari reportedly suffered a heart attack due to the brutal filming conditions) to the core concept I touched on, an existentialist analysis, and of course, the stunning, magnetic presence of Monica Vitti.
For now, my favorite is still "krik".
Cheers!
p.s. interesting quote: "It's better when it's absurd. Then we can't do anything about it."
Since I’ve slightly tweaked my planned deep dive into Antonioni, I decided to watch one of his early works yesterday. It’s actually his second film, released back in 1953—three years after his debut, kronika jedan ljubav. So, if I go in the opposite direction now—watching krik first and then Poraženi—I might be able to better track how he evolved and where his style shifted.
The script was a massive undertaking involving six different writers, including the director himself. It tells three separate stories, where the central murder is actually just a distraction. It turns out the crime itself isn't the point; the person behind it is. We see three major American cities through these lenses: in Paris, a friend kills a friend out of jealousy; in Rome, we deal with organized crime where the focus stays firmly on the individual; and in London, we meet one of the weirdest characters ever put on screen—a narcissistic, somewhat effeminate self-proclaimed writer who decides to make a buck off a woman's corpse (though how exactly he does it matters way less than the context). Right from the jump, the narrator warns us that we’re about to see a film about young people who were just kids when the war broke out, and are now growing up and realizing exactly what kind of world they're living in. At one point, even the killer in the first story looks straight into the camera. That could mean anything: maybe he wants to remind us that this happens among us, that we're part of it, or that we're just sitting here watching without doing a damn thing. It’s interesting how Antonioni never actually shows the murders. This just reinforces my theory that the act itself—not the killing, but the actual event—isn't what demands our attention. While his debut focused on two inseparable souls, this film gives us three disconnected yet eerily similar protagonists. Later on, with krik, he’ll decide to stick to just one story—Aldova's story, which I mentioned earlier—and flesh it out with much more quality, consistency, and precision. Still, you can already see that recurring theme of "triplets" in Poraženi, something that pops up even more frequently in krik. You see those pyramidal shot compositions popping up here, which eventually reach their peak in krik, constantly hammering home the idea that everything is hierarchically structured, whether the characters like it or not, and that this structure dictates their entire lives. There’s this really fascinating scene where some Parisian youths mock an old train, saying it looks like something pulled straight out of a museum. In doing so, they’re basically presenting themselves as the height of modernity, which isn't far off from the later modernism seen in Antonioni's films. I could honestly write a whole book on that one sequence, but I'll keep it brief. After all, this isn't one of his absolute heavy hitters like the films following krik—especially that tetralogy where the first part, avantura, is showing this Friday.
redowl90 said:Rubeša is easily the most pretentious critic out there. Every time I read his stuff, I honestly can't stop laughing. The guy is a joke. A total clown with his writing.
I can't even wrap my head around the pieces in HFLJ. Even Matija Kluković couldn't top that level of pretentiousness.
On the flip side, I think Šoša and Radić are great over at National. Personally, one of my favorites is Njegić at Slobodna, thanks to those "free-thinking" and irreverent columns of his. Most of the time, I find myself agreeing with his critiques.
Even though this isn't really the right time or place, here's a quick reply:
I haven't had much experience with Rubeša, and I haven't read Njegić at all—never even heard of him, honestly. My bad. But HFLJ puts out some solid pieces, and you can find a few gems in every single issue. Plus, it's pretty much the only magazine actually fighting for this subject, so that earns them an extra point from me.
What’s the deal with modern Hollywood blockbusters and the crowds that flock to them? It’s simple: these movies are conditioning us to expect the exact same formula every single time. We’re being fed a steady diet of neon colors, massive ensembles, gratuitous nudity, predictable soundtracks, non-stop action, and CGI explosions that get bigger every year. Everything moves faster—dialogue, pacing, everything—while directors lose interest in actually exploring deep themes. And don't even get me started on the acting; let's just stick to the directing and production side of things. As more of these cookie-cutter flicks get made, we watch more of them, and honestly, once you're used to that rhythm, anything that deviates feels boring or slow. If the theaters aren't packed with waves of people seeing *Pirates of the Caribbean*, aggressive monsters from *Lord of the Rings*, invincible heroes from the *Fantastic Four*, or a crumbling skyline in *Cloverfield*, and instead they're playing stuff like *Tuyin*, *Lust Caution*, or *The Savage Family*, people start getting confused. They find themselves wishing for a return to the old ways—or rather, a return to quality—because let’s face it: people go to the movies for entertainment.
I’m talking about today's mainstream productions.
When you really think about it, it’s tough. It’s genuinely hard for teenagers or young adults today to head down to a local indie theater like the one near the AMC, buy a ticket for an Antonioni film, and sit through something over 50 years old. And it isn't just about the age of the film. It’s those specific traits I mentioned earlier—which, shockingly, are totally absent here. Instead, you get two or three actors, black-and-white cinematography, and real, gritty human problems. There are no monsters, no massive tsunami effects leveling cities, and the music isn't blaring in your face. There are no computers, cell phones, satellites, or iPods. Nudity is off the table, the costumes are weird, characters talk sparingly, and the filming pace is slow. An audience raised on high-octane spectacles is going to look at this and rightfully ask: What’s the point? Why is Antonioni considered a classic?
My local independent cinema recently started showing some Michelangelo Antonioni films. You have to show up to these feeling rested. I’ve been there plenty of times, and while the films are great, if you're an exhausted person, you probably won't want to watch something that doesn't actively entertain you or keep you on edge. Look, if a monster is attacking New York and skyscrapers are toppling over, whether you want to admit it or not, it’s exciting to watch. But when we watch Antonioni’s human dramas—problems we already have too many of ourselves—without any real momentum, it’s easy to drift off. I'm speaking from experience; it's happened to me. And it happens to others, too; at almost every screening, I see at least two or three people who clearly just gave up on using their brains and decided to use the movie as a nap. So, this afternoon, I decided to sleep in so I could be truly refreshed, but then I woke up at 7:30 PM. My plan to binge through Antonioni’s filmography chronologically was ruined, but whatever. I decided to hit up *Il Grido* first, and tomorrow I'll jump back in time to watch *Le Amiche*.
*Il Grido* is Antonioni’s 1957 film. Even though it won a Golden Leopard at Locarno, critics didn't exactly embrace it, which led to a three-year gap in his filmmaking. The story follows Aldo, a mechanic working at a sugar refinery. After his wife passes away, his mistress Irma—with whom he has an illegitimate daughter—decides to leave him. This hits Aldo hard, prompting him to leave home with his daughter. On his journey, he encounters various women as he tries to outrun his actual problems and find his true love again. Antonioni takes this straightforward story and turns it into a work of incredibly high quality. Critics famously dubbed him the "neorealist of the soul" because he was—arguably at his best—at describing the psychology of characters who are clearly having a run of bad luck. For Aldo, Irma is his entire world, and losing her triggers everything else. After he proposes and she rejects him, saying they have to stop, he tries everything to keep her. He starts with words, moves to money, and eventually resorts to force, until she finally decides it's over. That’s when Aldo’s odyssey begins, except for one thing: throughout the whole trip, he knows there's no faithful Penelope waiting for him at home. He travels through the Po Valley, a setting that defined both Antonioni's life and his work, especially since he filmed his documentary *People in the Po Valley* back in 1943. He draws a beautiful metaphorical parallel with the river; the river keeps moving, eternally, and unlike humans, it has no right to complain about its problems. During this journey, Antonioni weaves together different "lives." He shows an innocent little girl who has no clue where she is but tries to enjoy herself, a slightly drunk old man who has seen it all and treats his misery with booze and outbursts against the bourgeoisie, and even glimpses of high culture—like a Chaplin poster, a painting of *Madame Butterfly*, or songs by Edith Piaf—which feel completely disconnected from the primitive, carefree lives these characters are actually living. Aldo and Irma remain isolated, highlighting how these different worlds exist separately. Yet, while showing the variety of life, he subtly places barriers between these worlds using windows, lattices, wire fences, and glass doors, suggesting that everyone is ultimately partitioned and left to fend for themselves. Throughout the film, Antonioni masterfully uses the motif of the triangle. Usually, the third point serves to separate the first two rather than connect them, like in math. We start with triangles like Aldo-Irma-Husband and Aldo-Irma-Daughter, but later the husband is replaced by Irma's desired lover, and the daughter is replaced by various women. Finally, the family triangle is shattered when the daughter is caught up with characters like the drunk man I mentioned. Toward the end, the triangle collapses into a simple line between Aldo and his last lover—a straight line that, as we know, extends into infinity, driving his two main directions apart. So, after everything goes down, Aldo decides to head home. For a split second, those old feelings rush back for Irma, but he’s already climbing up that refinery tower. As he reaches the top, we get this callback to the opening scene where Aldo and Irma are physically separated again—she's down on the ground and he's about fifteen feet above her. She calls out to him, and then he just... leaps. That leads right into her piercing, honest krik, which was teased right in the title. Did it have to go down exactly like that? Who knows. But why did he jump? That part is pretty obvious—he would've jumped at the very beginning too if he had any clue what was coming his way once he climbed down from that refinery.
Steve Cochran plays Aldo, and Alida Valli plays Irma. Besides Antonioni, the script was worked on by Elio Bartolini and Ennio de Concini. Gianni Di Venanzo handled the cinematography, and Giovanni Fusco did the score. Fusco decided to keep things pretty minimal, mostly using a piano theme with variations that carry this heavy, melancholic vibe. It eventually resolves into a pleasant sound that settles all the musical tension, which—let's be real, much like the movie itself suggests—doesn't happen nearly as often in real life.
I didn't spend too much time overanalyzing Antonioni's direction because the story sucked me in so fast. It actually surprised me! I always thought kronika jedne ljubavi was incredibly boring, but there were definitely upsides here. The filming was top-tier, and even though I walked away from krik feeling like I'd watched a really high-quality piece of cinema, it felt like a prelude to something even bigger and more fleshed out.
I can't tell if it's just being burnt out on Hollywood because of that hiatus in Tuškanac, or if it's just that the film quality was genuinely solid, but right now Antonioni is mostly riding the wave of krik alongside Ingmar Bergman's "The Seventh Seal" and "The Virgin Spring." And while those aren't bad movies by any means, since they're such massive cinematic classics, people definitely expected a lot more from them.
This is getting close to five cards long, so I might just stop here since nobody's paying me anyway.
See you tomorrow (it'll be much shorter, I promise).
p.s. I picked up Seymour Chatman's book "Antonioni or the surface of the world," and it looks promising. It actually has a chapter on krik, so maybe tomorrow, once I've read it and checked out some reviews online, I'll add a bit more. This was just me riffing off the top of my head, fueled by an inspiration I can't quite explain myself.
In case anyone else is still looking for insight, here’s another stellar critique from Radić: , especially that final paragraph.
I’m glad he’s sharing my take that "Lazarescu" is definitely on another level entirely, though I’d probably rate "4 Months" as just slightly more than "extremely solid." It’s such a shame he doesn't write more often. Pavičić, Rubeša, Jurak, Polimac, and that whole crowd at the local daily writing about modern cinema are just playing to the masses—it’s pure populism. Meanwhile, the "Ljetopisičari" crew like Turković, Krivak, Kurelec, and the rest don't even touch modern films, which makes Radić a truly valuable critic in that regard. If only he'd show up a bit more frequently.
northernangler17 said:And honestly, it really bugged me how they cast two actors for him but only one actress for her (wtf?!)
It’s not about the ratio, it’s about how they actually pulled it off.
northernangler17 said:But seriously, if you ask me, it sits somewhere between parody and grotesque. And I have a feeling that wasn't exactly what they were going for.
I'm not totally sure what the target was with this movie, but even if the book wasn't trying to be that way, it definitely touches on those parody and grotesque elements in plenty of spots.
northernangler17 said:I felt like I was watching something that, in the right hands, could have been high quality, beautifully nuanced, emotional—totally gut-wrenching. But instead of all those feelings, I just sat there thinking, "Man, it COULD have been like that!"
First off, no need to yell. 2. Why would it be gut-wrenching? It's a story that celebrates love, even if I sound super cheesy saying that. 3. It could have been a hundred times worse. I gotta give it to Newell again for having the guts to try; it's just a matter of when someone else picks this up. Maybe in the year 2250 (if we haven't all kicked the bucket by then, which, let's face it, we probably will). People might call this "the first Hollywood adaptation of Love in the Time of Cholera," while the next sixteen versions are undeniably better.
I don't know.
Or maybe, now that I think about it, I'm just so in love with the story that I've tried to convince myself the movie was okay even though it really wasn't. I don't know, I'm telling you... I really don't know... But the book hit me so hard, so maybe I'm just subconsciously doing that...
I was actually going to write up my review and just drop it in the "Latest Releases" thread, but then I realized everyone is already talking about this movie. Plus, I caught a screening at the local AMC Theatres today and the place was packed—like, 90% full! It’s crazy because they only show it once a day at 9:15 PM, and it's been out for a month already. So, I figured, why not just start a whole new thread for this one?
I actually read the book that *Love in the Time of Cholera* was based on a while back, so I went in with a bit of context. Honestly, the movie got absolutely trashed by critics. I mean, talk about a rough reception—it sat at a measly 28% on Rotten, and even Roger Ebert and Bernardinelli gave it a pathetic 1.5 out of 4. I honestly can't wrap my head around why people hated it so much. Maybe they just set the bar way too high because the source material is such a classic? Or maybe it was just too much of a chaotic melting pot—you had Colombian settings, a Spanish lead, an Italian actress, a British director, all wrapped up in an American production. It felt like a total Tower of Babel situation, if you know what I mean. Still, I can't say I walked out of the AMC Theatres feeling disappointed. It wasn't for me, but it wasn't a letdown either.
My biggest gripe with this movie? They totally failed at making Giovanna mezzogiorno look older. It’s honestly ridiculous—she looks exactly the same from start to finish, which is just lazy. Meanwhile, Bardem actually pulls it off, even if his mustache looks a little wonky at times. He really aged convincingly. I don't have anything too harsh to say about Newell, but man, he leans way too hard on those extreme close-ups. It just doesn't work here. Plus, he’s trying to do way too much at once. He wants the laughs, the tears, the sex, the romance, the individual vs. the crowd, long dialogues, quick character studies, war, cholera... you name it. He’s trying to grab everything! Even Radić called it a "grab bag." Since this is my first time seeing a Newell film, I'm really hoping his direction in those earlier acclaimed hits like Donnie Brasco was a bit more focused. After all, he's supposed to be a big deal in this industry. Pinto, that Brazilian composer who also did the soundtrack for City of God, really nailed it with this one. Honestly, even those Shakira tracks he worked on weren't nearly as bad as everyone initially thought they'd be. I can’t quite recall every detail of the book, but honestly? It felt like they just filmed the novel scene by scene, frame for frame. Sometimes that works, but here, it kind of missed the mark. I’ve always considered *Love in the Time of Cholera* one of the greatest stories ever told, so even just the pacing of the movie felt a bit pretentious—though I have to give them credit for being brave enough to try. Bardem and Giovanna mezzogiorno just didn't have that spark; their chemistry didn't come anywhere close to what was on the page. Still, I can't say I hated it. There was just this "something" missing in the air—that specific feeling you were desperately searching for in *The Reckoning* but never actually found. The movie tried way too hard with the flashy visuals, and honestly? It leaned on the jokes far too much. Sure, there’s plenty of humor in the book, but it’s handled with actual subtlety there. When you force that kind of comedy into what should be a grounded, gritty drama, it just feels off. For me, this one lands squarely in the mediocre category. I’m on the same page as Radić this time. He gave it a 3/5, which honestly feels pretty generous coming from him. I guess he got swept up in the quality of the novel just like I did. It’s a total blast to read. At this point, we can practically call it a modern classic. I'm stoked that Radić is on my side regarding two other things, too—specifically how incredible Unax Ugalde is playing the young Florentina, and how Giovanna mezzogiorno is just stunning.
You have to admit, the author seems genuinely thrilled with this first Hollywood take on the story. And look, even though it isn't listed under "trivia" over on IMDb, I could swear I saw him personally taking the host from the priest in one of those quick, fleeting shots. I mean, there’s absolutely nothing in the official records about that, and honestly, if it actually happened, someone else probably would've caught it by now. But hey, maybe I'm just seeing things.
To wrap things up, I always find Radić’s takes pretty interesting— I just saw this piece about how much people are actually paying for movie tickets lately, and man, it’s getting ridiculous. I was reading through this article about the state of the industry, and honestly? It feels like we're being squeezed. The math doesn't even add up anymore. You walk into an AMC Theatres, pay a small fortune just to sit down, and then realize you still need enough cash on hand for a bucket of popcorn that costs more than a decent lunch in Chicago. It’s wild. We used to just grab a ticket and call it a day. Now, it’s a whole financial commitment. There’s this vibe that everything is becoming a luxury experience, but without the actual luxury. Sure, some theaters try to dress it up with fancy seating, but at the end of the day, it's still just sitting in the dark watching a screen. People are starting to stay home because, let's be real, why spend sixty bucks when you can stay in your pajamas? It’s a tough spot for the big studios too. They keep pumping out these massive blockbusters, hoping the crowds will show up, but the barrier to entry is getting higher every year. If they don't find a way to make going to the movies feel "worth it" again—and I don't mean just better reclining chairs—they might find themselves in a lot of trouble. Just my two cents. Things are changing fast.Look, I’ve got a few killer lines for you: Bernardinelli said it best: "All that eye candy in the world isn't going to stop Love in the Time of Cholera from sinking like a stone." Roger Ebert once said that Gabo’s magic might only truly exist within the prose itself. He talked about how the writing dances between the erotic and the absurd, blending tragedy with pure magic. Basically, if you strip away the beautiful language and just look at the plot, you’re left with nothing but dust and old bones. There’s no heartbeat left without those words.
When you look at the absolute legends of cinema—the kind of names that define history—there are really only two left standing who everyone agrees belong in that pantheon: Ingmar Bergman and Michelangelo Antonioni. Antonioni was the older of the two, born back in 1912 in Ferrari. He actually started out as a film critic before spending some time studying at the famous Centro film school. By 1942, he was already deep in the industry, working his way up as an assistant director for guys like Roberto Rossellini and Carne. In 1943, he jumped into the deep end with his own documentary, People from Poa. You can see his knack for screenwriting shining through in Giuseppe de Santis's neorealist masterpiece, Tragic Hunt (1948). After knocking out six documentaries, he finally made his feature debut with Chronicle of a Love Affair (1950). From there, he just took off. He went on to make over fifteen films, including those standout segments in omnibus films.
Those tiny little details from the start? They’re like breadcrumbs. Some fade, some get louder, some lead you totally astray, but none of them ever truly vanish. If you look at his early days—working for the pro-regime magazine Cinema or helping out on a Rossellini film, or even that intensely anti-fascist tragic hunt—you might think he’s obsessed with politics. But honestly, politics is just a side note in his work. When he actually touches on it directly, like in Zabriskie Point, he shifts into this weird, uncharacteristic style with conclusions that are way too blunt for him. Now, if you mention his documentary roots or his time working with Giuseppe de Santis, people will jump to the conclusion that he’s a Neorealist. But they'd be missing the whole point of Carne's legacy. To put it bluntly: from his very first movie, Antonioni wasn't interested in the drama of poverty. He was looking at the state of the soul and the messy paths of human thought. Someone once said that in de Sikin's Bicycle Thieves, there's too much talk about the bike and not enough about the man. That’s just wrong. It's almost heartless. The truth is, Antonioni really hit his stride just as Neorealism was dying out. He, along with Fellini and the elder Rossellini, saw a new kind of struggle emerging—the kind that birthed what you might call "renovated Neorealism" or a "Neorealism of the soul." This era was starting to grapple with this massive spiritual, moral, and emotional void. While the hero in de Sikin's film is desperately hunting for a stolen bike, Antonioni's characters are searching for something lost inside themselves—or something they feel *should* be there, but isn't. In this search, they always find a medium—another person—to help them process how they fit into the world around them and to test their own existence (exactly what his brief "boss" Carne used to talk about). That is the starting point for pretty much every single Antonioni film. That is the core story. And let me tell you, there are no happy endings in an Antonioni film. There just aren't any. His characters never quite settle their internal debts, so their emotions stay this heavy, cluttered mess that can't find a foothold "out there" because they haven't found one "in here" either. In that sense, you can really see how close he is to Ingmar Bergman. They both obsess over that journey a person takes toward the center of their own darkness. By the end of his movies, the hero or heroine is left questioning who they even are. Usually, they're resigned to it, but hey—at least they finally figured something out, whether it's good or bad.
It’s not exactly shocking that a "mature" Antonioni kicks things off by adapting Pavese (*The Friendships*). Then, with *krik*, he finally nails down that signature visual language he uses to map out his characters' internal chaos—those vast, empty spaces and wide shots where people just drift around, lost. He leans into this hard through the whole famous quartet with Monica Vitti: *L'Avventure*, *la Notte*, *Eclipse*, and *Red Desert*. Later, he shifts gears, changing up the settings and the people (think *Blowup* and *Zabriskie Point*). It’s like after seeing all his protagonists fail to find any inner peace, he tries this Pirandello-style move to reinvent himself. He attempts to "start from scratch," but that backfires because he just ends up burdened by yet another identity crisis, much like in *zanimanje : reporter*. You might look at all this and think he completely abandoned neorealism. Honestly? I don't think so. He’s still deeply tied to it. He basically took that entire poetic style and rhetoric and just moved the battlefield from social issues to psychology. It’s almost tragic, really. He’s a realist who didn't just ditch the heavy plots; he did it because he’s a psychological realist. You won't see many subjective camera angles or those cheesy, melodramatic clichés used to signal a "soul in torment." Instead, the image itself—the whole context of the film—does all the talking. That’s how he truly made his mark on cinematic modernism. It wasn't just the themes; it was the way he saw the world.
The film site IMDb lists this bio for him:
Michelangelo Antonioni September 29, 1912, Ferrara, Italy - July 30, 2007, Rome, Italy
Michelangelo Antonioni was an Italian director and screenwriter, born September 29, 1912, in Ferrara. He actually studied economics at the University of Bologna. While he was a student, he was busy shooting 16mm films and writing reviews for a local paper. He eventually decided to go all-in on movies and moved to Rome in 1939, where he attended the Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia and worked on the magazine Cinema. Back in 1942, he helped out as a screenwriter on the film Una pilota retorna, directed by Roberto Rossellini. In 1943, he directed his first documentary, Gente del Po, which basically put him right at the doorstep of neo-realism. His first feature film, kronika jedan ljubav, came out in 1950. Following that, he made I vinti (1952) and La signora senza camelie (1953). Critics started calling him a "neo-realist of the soul" because he was so obsessed with psychological depth, especially when it came to his female characters. By 1960, he had finished Le amiche (1955) and krik (1957). He really hit legendary status thanks to his alienation tetralogy—L'Avventura (1960), la Notte (1961), L'Eclisse (1962), and Red Desert (1964)—which cemented him as one of the heavyweights of modern cinema. In 1966, he gave us the cult classic Blowup. This was followed by Zabriskie Point (1970), zanimanje : reporter (1975), and Il Mistero di Oberwald (1980). A heart attack in 1985 left him partially paralyzed.
Tanto per stare insieme (2001) Il Filo pericoloso delle cose (2001) 12 directors for 12 cities (documentary omnibus, "Rome" segment) (1998) Al di là delle nuvole (1995) Noto, Mandorli, Vulcano, Stromboli, Carnevale (documentary) (1993) Kumbha Mela (short film) (1989) Roma '90 (short film) (1989) Identificazione di una donna (1982) Il Mistero di Oberwald (1980) Professione: reporter (1975) Chung Kuo (documentary) (1972) Zabriskie Point (1970) Blowup (1966) I Tre volti (documentary omnibus, "Preface" segment) (1965) Red Desert (1964) L'Eclisse (1962) la Notte (1961) L'Avventura (1960) krik (1957) Le amiche (1955) Uomini in piu (documentary) (1950) L'Amore in città (documentary omnibus, "Attempted Suicide" segment) (1953) I vinti (1953) La Signora senza camelie (1953) La Funivia del faloria (documentary) (1950) La Villa dei mostri (documentary) (1950) kronika jedan ljubav (1950) L'Amorosa menzogna (documentary) (1949) Bomarzo (documentary) (1949) Ragazze in bianco (documentary) (1949) Sette canne, un vestito (documentary) (1949) Superstizione (documentary) (1949) Nettezza urbana (documentary) (1948) Oltre l'oblio (documentary) (1948) Roma-Montevideo (documentary) (1948) Gente del Po (documentary)
I usually prefer to kick off a big topic rather than just obsessing over one single movie, whenever I get the chance. Even though he’s easily one of the greatest directors ever, a retrospective of his work is starting up tomorrow at a local theater in Beverly Hills, and I bet some of you guys will be heading there too. So, let's use this thread to dump all our thoughts from the screenings and our takes on Antonioni the filmmaker, all in one spot...
ruggedmarlin15 said:Amanda Nguyen5, I think you might have mixed up your wires a little bit here. The protagonist doesn't say she'll "sort everything out with the conductors without any issues" (and honestly, I'm not even sure what she'd be solving with them anyway); instead, her friend asks, "Can you pay? I don't even know how to bribe a conductor," and the protagonist just replies, "Don't worry, I'll handle it." There's a bit of a difference there, right?
ruggedmarlin15
1. Learn how to address people properly. It’s a good life skill to have. 2. Of course there's a difference. The whole conductor thing is secondary; I'm talking about her level of self-confidence and belief in herself. She didn't know how to bribe a conductor either, but she believed she could—that's my point. But honestly, it's not that deep. I explicitly mentioned that this is just one of those many "brilliant little details" that might seem trivial to the plot, but they all add their own flavor to the movie.
Seriously, I don't see how I’ve offended anyone here.
Unless you think calling my opinion "Coelho-esque" is an insult? Because honestly, I don't take it that way. I've read Coelho before, and I definitely don't hold him in as low regard as the rest of the world seems to—and let's be real, most people barely grasp actual literature anyway. Don't get me wrong, though; I'm not exactly singing his praises.
But enough about that, since it's not even what this thread is about.