Uskoro dolazi jedan film

[korindjar]

prethodna 4 posta su posvecena upravo tom filmu

[fancy claps]

roman je los, sto znaci da je filmican. sto znaci da cu pogledati film.edit: to i nije roman. pre neka razvucena novela, pripovetka stalije.

Edited November 25, 2009 by fancy claps

[Hippie]

Su Qi-Er

[najgori]

boktemazo sta je ovo... koeljo ubio bafi?ima i trailer

Edited November 27, 2009 by najgori

[korindjar]

jel to sa onom umirucom slovenkom koja unosi radost u sanatorijum?

[najgori]

kazu da jeste, ali ne citam koelja posle bolnog iskustva sa onomprvomnajpoznatijom knjigom.

[Joe D]

Can't wait:Kako ovaj glumac lici na Serza, jezivo.

[MarlaSinger]

http://sherlock-holmes-movie.warnerbros.com/

[Joshua]

We Need to Talk about KevinKnjiga je odlična (hvala Marvinu za preporuku :)), a u filmu igra Tilda Svinton.Držim fige da ne zeznu stvar. Edited December 8, 2009 by Joshua

[korindjar]

Jim Sheridan izbacio novi film http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/1213999-brothers/The Road je brzo izleteo sa top tena, ali ono sto me cudi je da se nalazi u tako malom broju bioskopa, 128, sto je skoro nista u poredjenju sa Tvajlajtom i njegovom releasu od 4000 bioskopa

[Sludge Factory]

Daniel Day-Lewis: 'I'm not unapproachable'Daniel Day-Lewis will live rough, break bones and work through pneumonia to get inside his characters. It may be absurd, he says, but then, he's in an absurd business. He talks about his latest film, NineXan Brooks guardian.co.uk, Thursday 10 December 2009 21.30 GMT

The Daniel Day-Lewis interview is set for Friday and then it's set for Saturday. It's at 3.30pm; it's at 1.15pm; it may not happen at all. Inside the swish London hotel, the press handlers are all hunched over their clipboards while Italian journalists keep tripping over TV cables in the corridor. Eventually, a pair of publicists forge through the melee to assure me that yes, the interview will indeed take place – but not right now. "Can we bring you some food while you wait?" asks the first publicist. "There's no food," says the second.By this point I'm starting to wonder whether the Nine press junket might be some ornate PR stunt by the Weinstein Company, a fiendish simulacrum of the film itself. Nine casts Day-Lewis as a movie director in crisis, blinded by the flashbulbs and hounded by the press, and I have the sense that we are playing the whole thing out again today. This impression only grows when the actor is finally ushered into the room, where he slumps into his seat and proceeds to quote a line from the script. "The first way to kill your film is by talking about it," he says.Daniel Day-Lewis is now 52. His hair is cut short and peppered with grey; his voice a liquid blend of rural Irish and public-school English. He carries himself lightly but his reputation precedes him. What we have here is a double Oscar-winner and a byword for actorly obsession; a man who immerses himself so deeply in each role that he appears in perpetual danger of drowning. He broke two ribs while impersonating contorted Christy Brown in My Left Foot, lived rough in the forest before shooting The Last of the Mohicans, and soldiered on through a bout of pneumonia on the set of Gangs of New York. Given that his character chain-smokes his way through most of Nine, it seems safe to assume that he was smoking off camera as well. "Oh, all the time," he says. "All the time."Day-Lewis is here to talk about the film, and maybe that's OK; a necessary indignity. But talking about the film means talking about his acting and this he is famously loath to do. Unpick the method, he argues, and the magic stops working. Show us the wires and that's all we start looking for. The first way to kill an actor is to make him talk about the acting.Nine, for the record, is the new picture from Chicago director Rob Marshall. It is an adaptation of a Broadway musical that is itself a riff on Fellini's 8 1/2. Day-Lewis headlines as Guido Contini, the Italian "maestro" who finds himself torn between the various women in his life. These women are played by a coterie of fellow Oscar-winners: Nicole Kidman, Judi Dench, Penélope Cruz and Marion Cotillard. They love Guido so much they eulogise him in song. "Like Michelangelo, he paints his private dome," croons Cotillard at one point. "But he can't distinguish what's his work and what's his home." Marshall's film is by turns lavish and bold, strident and silly. I came out fearing I'd just witnessed a gorgeous, feathered folly; a turkey that longs to be a flamingo.And what was the deal with that accent? Day-Lewis once remarked that the film he most regretted making was The Unbearable Lightness of Being because he was forced to speak English with a Czech inflection, and this kept him at an arm's length from the material. Fair enough. And yet here he is doing the same thing with an Italian accent.The actor says he can't remember saying that, exactly. "But you're right; the accent thing. It's always irked me in other films. Germans don't speak in a German accent, they just speak German. I suppose I've got a small get-out-of-jail card because I like to think of Guido as one of those displaced Europeans, the sort of foreigner who speaks English better than we do. But there's no logic there, is there?" He lets rip with a startling giggle. "I can't answer your question because it's unanswerable. Denial," he says. "That's my answer. Denial!"Day-Lewis, it transpires, giggles a good deal and it lends him a curious, boyish quality. He can also be delightfully ditzy. He keeps referring to a Michael Jackson interview he has just read in today's paper. Really? I say. Michael Jackson? "Yeah, yeah," he says. "Michael Jackson." It's only later that I realise he means George Michael.None of which quite fits with the image. For better or worse Day-Lewis remains fixed in the public mind as the ultimate bonkers method actor – the sort of wild, selfish, free spirit who dumps his lovers by fax and vanishes off into the wilderness for years at a stretch. In the last decade he has appeared in just four films. Off duty, he seems content to spend his days in the mountains of County Wicklow, where he has two children with his wife, the writer and film-maker Rebecca Miller. He insists that he keeps himself busy, though won't say how, exactly. Yes, he likes going to the cinema, but the local picture-house has now closed down. The last film he saw was the latest Twilight outing. His sons, he admits, are fans of the franchise.In the meantime the scripts keep coming and are generally sent back. It takes a lot to lure Day-Lewis before the cameras, and he confesses that he thought long and hard before agreeing to Nine. "It wasn't a convenient time for me to go back to work," he explains loftily.I'm not sure whether to be amused or exasperated. Not a convenient time? When did he get to be so picky? "I'm not picky, quite honestly. It's simply that I recognise pretty quickly the stuff that I don't like. And I also recognise the impulse that is dragging me towards a piece of work. And perhaps as you get older, that impulse comes less often." (It strikes me, incidentally, that this is pretty much the dictionary definition of picky).He explains that it was different when he was younger. Back then he was fuelled by an indiscriminate ambition. So he acted in My Beautiful Laundrette and A Room With a View; Stars and Bars and Eversmile, New Jersey. He grabbed at every chance that came his way, both on screen and on stage, and it left him feeling hollow, scooped out. "In all fields of creativity you see the result of work that has become habit. Where the creative impulse has become flaccid or has died out altogether, and yet because it is our work and our life we continue to do it."I point out that most people don't have the choice and he admits that this is true. "But I made a personal pledge that I wouldn't work unless I needed to. And you're right, that's a tremendous privilege. But I've always thought that if was a question of paying bills, simple as that, then I would much rather do any work than this."Dimly it dawns on me that we are talking about acting. This, perhaps, is the curse of being Daniel Day-Lewis. The more he retreats from the limelight, the more it adds to the myth. The more he resists explaining his craft, the more we want to grill him. There is also the fact that he is so infuriatingly good at what he does. None of this would be an issue if he were cranking out duff film after duff film and serving himself up to the press like so much chopped liver.I ask him what he loves about acting and he pauses for the longest time. "Without meaning to imply that the impulse is essentially to get away from oneself, I think it is about losing yourself in time," he says finally. "I suppose it's like when painters talk about when they begin to make marks on a canvas and then 24 hours later they're still working and there's no sense of the ticking clock and no sense of the self. The self takes care of itself through the work, through the impulse. And I find that intoxicating."I can understand how that might work with painters or writers. But isn't film acting such an abbreviated, stop-start process? "Well, I think you've subtly brought me round to why I work the way I do. If you go to inordinate length to explore and discover and bring a world to life, it makes better sense to stay in that world rather than jump in and out of it, which I find exhausting and difficult. That way there isn't the sense of rupture every time the camera stops; every time you become aware of the cables and the anoraks and hear the sound of the walkie-talkies." He shrugs. "Maybe it's complete self-delusion. But it works for me."So he stays in character from beginning to end. He is scary Bill the Butcher when making Gangs of New York and raging Daniel Plainview throughout There Will Be Blood. And how do the other actors react to this way of working? They must see him as some kind of fruitcake. Day-Lewis smiles. "A mad person, yeah. But I don't think they do. I don't think they do. I don't know, but I don't think they do. I'm not …" He hunts for the right word. "Unapproachable."So even when he's Bill the Butcher, he's still approachable? The actor giggles. "Maybe less so!"Now look, he cautions. He gets wary discussing these things because it makes him sound so self-important, so basically ludicrous. The whole profession, he admits, is built on a paradox. Most actors are shy but this shyness is what prompts the desire to "reveal oneself". Most stars convince themselves that they are working in private, only for their faces to go before the masses and their lives to become framed as some ongoing soap opera. "And maybe it's possible to resist that, but you have to catch it early on. Luckily enough I had a shard of self-knowledge that allowed me to protect my life as far as I possibly could. God knows, I haven't always been successful. But I worry for people who don't do enough to discourage that kind of public scrutiny it until it's too late." He shakes his head. "And when it's too late, it's really fucking too late."This, I suppose, is the fate of Guido Contino in Nine, who hates the attention and craves the attention and winds up in an advanced state of disarray, lolling about in expensive hotels and singing about how miserable he is. He should have stayed more nimble, played will-o-the-wisp. He should have moved to County Wicklow and kept hold of his soul.Day-Lewis started the interview by quoting one line from the film, so it seems fitting to end it on another. There is a nice moment when Guido is with his wife and she looks at him and sighs. "Oh," she says. "The absurdity of being you."Day-Lewis can relate to that: the absurdity of being him. "Absolutely," he says. "When people ask me about acting, I've often wondered whether the reason I work the way I do is an instinctual response to my sense of absurdity. And in order to eclipse that, I have to immerse myself more than most people. And of course that only risks making me look all the more daft." He throws up his hands. "People always ask me: 'Isn't it strange that you have to do this or that to prepare for the work?' But really: what could be stranger than the work itself?"Nine is out on 18 December

[Arkadija]

The Road je brzo izleteo sa top tena, ali ono sto me cudi je da se nalazi u tako malom broju bioskopa, 128, sto je skoro nista u poredjenju sa Tvajlajtom i njegovom releasu od 4000 bioskopa

I nema ga na Warezu, što je očigledno posledica distribucije u samo 128 bioskopa.

[Roger Sanchez]

Roger Ebert nahvalio Avatar.. Jel moguće da to ne bude treš?

[korindjar]

cameron je veliki covek

[BOOGIEMAN]

Roger Ebert nahvalio Avatar.. Jel moguće da to ne bude treš?

budzet filma je ~ 300 miliona dolara, na sta mislis da su otisle pare ? Filmovi slicnog budzeta u ovom milenijumu dobijaju samo hvalospeve (Die Hard 4, Betmen, 2012 ...). Nema sanse da spec. efekti danas kostaju toliko. Evo, izgleda da je i Uwe Boll konacno ukapirao kako treba da se raspodeli novcani fondRampageKritike kazu odlican film ?!? Can't wait 2 C :) Edited December 14, 2009 by BOOGIEMAN