R.I.P.

[Lancia]

jos jedan plus i nek 3opge pocisti tog prostaka i njegovog klona.

[notenoughreasonsforclaire]

Godinu dana je prošlo :(.

[April]

Godinu dana je prošlo :(.

Kad pre...koliko nam je taj čovek ostao dužan uloga u kojima smo ga čekali...kao i Zoran Radmilović, Cica Perović...

[notenoughreasonsforclaire]

[Aće]

Goodbye Lina Romay

[kim_philby]

Pierre Schoendoerffer Dead: Oscar-Winning Filmmaker Dies At 83

[kobni zelaya]

Umro Tonino GueraTekst je preveden uz pomoc google translejta, vest na engleskom nisam uspeo da nadjem.

[April]

Toninov zvanični biograf bio je Puriša Đorđević.Počeli su saradnju još u Toninovoj ruskoj fazi, i nastavili druženje sve do kraja...

[dig_chohano]

Preminuo glumac Peter Karsten :(

[Parsons]

Ruhe in Frieden

[MocaVukotic]

was ist das?das ist bure za mas' :(

[Tinman]

Nora Ephron, famed screenwriter and director, dies at 71

[Turnbull]

Žao mi za Noru :(

[Turnbull]

Gardijan objavio vrlo dirljiv odlomak iz Efronkine autobiografije. Voleo bih da vidim tu predstavu koja je flopnula.

Nora Ephron: Flops, I've had a fewAn extract from writer and film-maker Nora Ephron's new book I Remember Nothing and Other Reflections, on the heartbreak of seeing your work fail, along with observations on omelette and chicken soupShare 29I have had a lot of flops. I have had movies that were total flops.When I say total flops, I mean they got bad ­reviews and they didn't make money.I have also had partial flops: they got good reviews and they didn't make money.I have also had hits. It's lovely to have a hit. There's nothing like a hit.But it's horrible to have a flop. It's ­painful and mortifying. It's lonely and sad.A couple of my flops eventually ­became cult hits, which is your last and final hope for a flop, but most of my flops remained flops.Flops stay with you in a way that hits never do. They torture you. You toss and turn. You ­replay. You recast. You recut. You ­rewrite. You restage. You run through the what-ifs and the if-onlys. You cast about for blame.One of the best things about ­directing movies, as opposed to merely writing them, is that there's no ­confusion about who's to blame: you are. But ­before I became a director, when I was just the screenwriter, I could cast blame everywhere. There's a movie I wrote years ago that didn't work. In my opinion. You may have seen this movie. You may even have loved it. But it was a flop when it opened; it got exactly one good ­review in all of ­America, and then it sank like a stone.For years I tried to figure out where I'd gone wrong and what I should have done. What should I have said to the director? What should I have done in order to fight for the original draft of the script, the best draft, the one with the voiceover?What could I have done to prevent the director from inserting the fun-house sequence, or from cutting the flashbacks, which were really funny?Or were they?I spent years wondering about all this. Then, one day, I had lunch with the movie's editor. I was about to ­direct my first movie, and I was looking for advice. At a certain point, we got around to the flop. He must have brought it up; I never would have. That's another thing about flops: you never talk about them afterward, they're too painful. But he assured me that nothing could have been done; the problem, he said, was the casting. This calmed me down temporarily. This was at least a solution to the riddle of why the movie hadn't worked – it was miscast. Of course. So it wasn't my fault. What a relief.For quite a long time I comforted myself with that theory. Then, recently, I saw the movie again and I realised why the movie hadn't worked.There was nothing wrong with the cast; the problem was the script. The script wasn't good enough, it wasn't funny enough, it wasn't sharp enough. So it was my fault after all.By the way, one of the things you hope for when your movie hasn't gotten good reviews is that some ­important critic will eventually ­embrace it and attack all the ­critics who didn't like when it opened.I mention this for two reasons: first, so that you'll understand how truly ­pathetic you become after a flop; and second, because, astonishingly, this ­actually happened with a movie I wrote called Heartburn. Heartburn flopped when it opened. A year later, Vincent Canby, the eminent movie critic for the New York Times, saw the movie for the first time and wrote an article calling it a small masterpiece.Those were not his exact words, but close.And he claimed to be mystified that other critics hadn't seen how good it was. But this was cold comfort, ­because I couldn't help wondering if things might have been different had Canby reviewed the movie in the first place. I'm not suggesting that the movie would have sold more tickets, but a good review in the Times ­cushions the blow.One of the saddest things about a flop is that even if it turns out to have a healthy afterlife, even if it's partly ­redeemed, you remain bruised and hurt by the original experience. Worst of all, you eventually come to agree with the audience, the one that didn't much like it to begin with. You agree with them, even if it means you've abandoned your child.People who aren't in the business ­always wonder if you knew it was ­going to be a flop. They say things like, "Didn't they know?" "How could they not have known?" My experience is that you don't know. You don't know because you're invested in the script. You love the cast. You adore the crew.Two or three hundred people have followed you into the wilderness; they've committed six months or a year of their lives to an endeavour you've made them believe in. It's your party, you're the host.You've fought hard to improve the on-set catering. You've flown in frozen custard from Wisconsin. And everyone is having the most wonderful time.I now know that when you shoot a movie where the crew is absolutely hysterical with laughter and you are ­repeatedly told by the sound guy that you are making the funniest movie in history, you may be in trouble.The first time this happened, I had no idea. The crew loved it. They were on the floor. The camera operator and focus puller were stuffing Kleenexes into their mouths to keep from ­laughing. And then we cut the movie and it tested poorly. Let me be more explicit: it tested in the way many ­comedies do, which is that the ­audience laughed at the jokes and nonetheless didn't like the movie. This is the moment when you ought to know you are approaching flop, but you don't; you think you can fix it. ­After all, they laughed. That must mean something. And there are so many stories about movies that were fixed after they tested badly.There is anecdotal evidence. They fixed Fatal Attraction. Not that your movie is remotely like Fatal Attraction. Still, it gives you hope.So you recut. And you reshoot.And it still tests poorly.At this point, you surely know you've got a flop. You'd have to be a fool not to know.But you don't. ­Because you hope. You hope against hope. You hope the critics will like it.Perhaps that will help. You hope the studio will cut a trailer for the movie that will explain the movie to the ­audience. You spend hours on the phone with the marketing people. You worry over the tracking figures. You pretend to yourself that test screenings don't matter – although they do, they absolutely do, especially when you make a commercial movie.And then the movie opens and that's that. You get bad reviews and no one goes to see it. You may never work again. No one calls. No one mentions it.But time passes. Life goes on. You're lucky enough to make another movie.But that flop sits there, in the ­history of your life, like a black hole with a wildly powerful magnetic field.By the way, there are people who have positive things to say about flops. They write books about success through failure and the power of ­failure. Failure, they say, is a growth experience; you learn from failure. I wish that were true. It seems to me the main thing you learn from a failure is that it's entirely possible you will have another failure.My biggest flop was a play I wrote. It got what are known as mixed reviews – which is to say, it got some good reviews, but not in the New York Times.It puttered along for a couple of months, and then it died. It lost its ­entire investment. It was the best thing I ever wrote, so it was a particularly heartbreaking experience. If I think about it for more than a minute, I start to cry.Some plays flop but go on to have a life in stock and amateur productions, but not this one. No one performs it anywhere, ever.You'd think I would have given up hoping that anything good would ever happen to this play, but I haven't: I sometimes fantasise that when I'm dying, someone who's in a position to revive it will come to my bedside to say goodbye, and I will say: "Could I ask a favour?" He will say yes. What else can he say? After all, I'm dying. And I will say: "Could you please do a revival of my play?"How pathetic is that

Edited June 27, 2012 by Syme

[Roger Sanchez]

Ernest Borgnine, TV and film actor, dies at 95

Nezaboravna faca.. počivaj u miru, stari.