The Gold Rush (Charles Chaplin, 1925) |
Charlot, all alone on New Year's Eve... {watch the entire scene on YouTube}
The Gold Rush (Charles Chaplin, 1925) |
Sleeping Beauty (Julia Leigh, 2011) |
La belle endormie/ The Sleeping Beauty (Catherine Breillat, 2010) |
Skin is the frontier that separates us from others: It determines the race to which we belong, it reflects our emotions and our roots, whether biological or geographic. Many times it reflects the state of the soul, but the skin isn't the soul. Although Vera has changed her skin, she hasn’t lost her identity. [...]
A story of these characteristics made me think of Luis Buñuel, Alfred Hitchcock, all of Fritz Lang’s films (from the gothic to the noir). I also thought of the pop aesthetic of Hammer horror, or the most psychedelic, kitsch style of the Italian giallo (Dario Argento, Mario Bava, Umberto Lenzi, Lucio Fulci…), and the lyricism of Georges Franju in Eyes Without a Face. After evaluating all these references, I realized that none of them fit with what I needed for The Skin I Live In. For some months I thought seriously about making a silent film, in black and white, with captions that showed descriptions and dialogue, paying tribute to Fritz Lang and F. W. Murnau. After doubting for months, I decided to go my own way and let myself be guided by my intuition — after all, it’s what I’ve always done — without the shadow of the maestros of the genre, and renouncing my own cinematic memory. I only knew that I had to impose an austere narrative, free of visual rhetoric and not at all gory, although a lot of blood has been spilled in the ellipses that we don’t see. I’ve been accompanied on this journey by José Luis Alcaine, the director of photography, to whom I didn’t explain what I wanted but rather what I didn’t want; he knew how to give the photography the density, the glow, and the darkness that suited it best. The composer Alberto Iglesias, the only artist I know without an ego; tireless, versatile, patient, capable of looking in one direction and then looking in the opposite direction if I wasn’t satisfied, always subject to the dictates of the story and my way of feeling it. And actors who were generous and precise, despite the obvious discomfort of some of their scenes. I’ll name them all: Antonio Banderas, Elena Anaya, Marisa Paredes, Jan Cornet, Roberto Álamo, Blanca Suárez, Eduard Fernández, Susi Sánchez, Bárbara Lennie, and José Luis Gómez.
Elena Anaya practices the "warrior" position, with a little help from Almodóvar (Taschen's Magazine, Winter 2011/2012) |
Anna Magnani in "La voce umana", in L'Amore (Roberto Rossellini, 1948) |
Ingrid Bergman in The Human Voice (Ted Kotcheff, 1966) |
Přežít svůj život (teorie a praxe)/ Surviving Life (Theory and Practice) (Jan Švankmajer, 2010) |
Ladies and gentlemen, we couldn't raise enough cash. This was supposed to be a regular feature film, but since we didn't have the money, we had to use a much simpler technique - paper-cut-out animation, like in the old kids TV programs. So we were able to shoot the whole thing in the studio and keep the transport costs to a minimum. We also saved money on actor's fees, as we mainly used just photographs of them, and on catering - because photographs don't eat. So this is not a formal experiment, just a poor imperfect substitute for a live-action film. A kind of fusion movie. I've called it a psychoanalytical comedy. Psychoanalytical because one of the characters is a psychoanalyst. As for the comedy, I'm pretty sure you won't find much to laugh at. Neither did we when we were shooting. One morning I was woken up by a dream and I said to myself it looked like the opening scene of a film. So I wrote the other scenes. I've always wanted to make a film in which dream blends with reality, and vice versa. As Georg Christoph Lichtenberg tells us: only the fusion of dream and reality can make up the complete human life. Sadly, our civilization has no time for dreams, there's no money. The reason I've included this introduction is not to gratify my narcissism. It is because when we finished cutting the film, we discovered that it was too short. That's what animated films do. They shorten time. They are quite simply faster than live-action movies. Two and a half minutes. Not a lot.
Martha Marcy May Marlene (Sean Durkin, 2011) |
Vivre sa vie (Godard, 1962) |
DANCING: Yet another café, an upstairs room. Nana’s freestyle dance (based on “The Swim”) around the billiard table, for the benefit of a shy young man, is the closest thing to “joie de vivre” in Vivre sa vie, a release from the tensions between Nana and her pimp. Legrand’s score abandons its brooding themes for a parody of dance-band banality: “Swim, swim, swim … swim je t’aime … swim tu m’aimes …”.
Woody Allen has typed out every movie he's ever made on a typewriter he's owned since the fifties, but what does the noted technophobe do when he has to change the typewriter ribbon? According to Robert Weide, who helmed a documentary on Allen airing next week, he asked the Midnight in Paris director just that and received an unexpected answer: "He says, 'I’ll throw a dinner party. And I’ll be sure to invite someone who I know knows how to change it ... So right around dessert I’ll kinda sidle up to them and say, Hey, when you were here before, didn’t you change my typewriter ribbon? And they’ll say, Yeah, and I’ll say Hey, do you wanna come up and take a look again?' And then he cons them into changing the ribbon." (Vulture)
Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960) |
Winter Passing (Adam Rapp, 2005) |
Withnail and I (Bruce Robinson, 1986) |
un amar "Congratulations." |
Two & Two (Babak Anvari, 2010) (short) |
Principiul "2+2=5": a ceda în faţa unei strategii de marketing care te vizează direct, după ce ai rezistat cu stoicism vreme îndelungată: "OK, bine, o să cumpăr porcăria aia de Cola. Acum lasă-mă în pace."
"Shaking Tokyo" (Bong Joon-ho) in Tokyo! (2008) |
În cinstea acestor noi cereale mi-am impus să mă aşez cum se cuvine la masa din bucătărie, cu tacâm şi şerveţel de hârtie. Cei care trăiesc singuri capătă pe nesimţite obiceiul de a mânca vertical: de ce să te deranjezi cu fineţuri când n-ai cu cine să stai la masă sau care să te critice? Dar lejeritatea într-o zonă poate conduce la dereglări în toate.
In honour of this new cereal I forced myself to sit down properly at the kitchen table, with place setting and paper napkin complete. Those who live alone slide into the habit of vertical eating: why bother with the niceties when there‘s no one to share or censure? But laxity in one area may lead to derangement in all.
Source: decitre.fr |
Mr. Nobody (Jaco Van Dormael, 2009) |
Man, I just had the weirdest dream back on the bus there. Do you ever have those dreams that are just completely real? I mean, they're so vivid, it's just like completely real. It's like there's always something bizarre going on in those. I have one about every two years or something. I always remember 'em really good. It's like there's always someone getting run over or something really weird. Uh, one time I had lunch with Tolstoy. Another time I was a roadie for Frank Zappa. Anyway. So this dream I just had, it was just like that... except instead of anything bizarre going on... I mean, there was nothing going on at all. Man. It was like The Omega Man. There was just nobody around. I was just traveling around... you know, staring out the windows of buses and trains and cars, you know. When I was at home, I was, like, flipping through the TV stations endlessly, reading. I mean, how many dreams do you have where you read in a dream? Wait. Man, there was this book I just read on the bus. You know, it was my dream, so I guess I wrote it or something. But, uh, man, it was bizarre. It was like, uh... the premise for this whole book... was that every thought you have creates its own reality, you know? It's like every choice or decision you make... the thing you choose not to do... fractions off and becomes its own reality, you know... and just goes on from there forever. I mean, it's like... uh, you know, in the Wizard of Oz... when Dorothy meets the Scarecrow and they do that little dance at that crossroads... and they think about going all those directions... then they end up going in that one direction. I mean, all those other directions, just because they thought about it... became separate realities. They just went on from there and lived the rest of their life. I mean, entirely different movies, but we'll never see it... because, you know, we're kind of trapped in this one reality restriction type of thing. Another example would be like back there at the bus station. As I got off the bus, the thought crossed my mind... you know, just for a second, about not taking a cab at all. But, you know, like maybe walking, or bummin' a ride or something like that. I'm kind of broke right now. I should've done that probably. But, uh, just 'cause that thought crossed my mind... there now exists at this very second... a whole 'nother reality where I'm at the bus station... and you're probably giving someone else a ride, you know? I mean, and that reality thinks of itself as this - it thinks of itself as the only reality, you know. I mean, at this very second, I'm in that - I'm back at the bus station just hangin' out, you know... probably thumbin' through a paper. You know, probably goin' up to a pay phone. Say this beautiful woman just comes up to me, just starts talking to me, you know? Uh, she ends up offering me a ride, you know. We're hitting it off. Go play a little pinball. And we go back to her apartment, I mean, she has this great apartment. I move in with her, you know. Say I have a dream some night... that I'm with some strange woman I've never met... or I'm living at some place I've never seen before. See, that's just a momentary glimpse into this other reality... that was all created back there at the bus station. You know, shoot. And then, you know... I could have a dream from that reality into this one... that, like, this is my dream from that reality. Of course, that's kind of like that dream I just had on the bus, you know. The whole cycle type of thing. Man, shit. I should've stayed at the bus station.
Glee (season 2, episode 18: "Born This Way") |
Jacqueline Bisset & Tudor Girgiu (Cinema Florin Piersic) |
I first attended TIFF in 2004, with two short films, Liviu's Dream and A Trip to the City, when I won the Best Romanian Film Award. I get quite nostalgic when I think of those times. The festival was small, with a somewhat closed circuit, you'd get to meet everyone, including people you couldn't see in Bucharest for years. They were all there. Those pioneering days, when we were all starting out and you couldn't feel the pressure that even I am experiencing nowadays, are still very dear to me.