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Scorsese on BergmanIn connection with Cannes selected ...but Film is My Mistress, Face to Face publishes the conversation director Stig Björkman had with Martin Scorsese on Bergman before the film. "If you were alive in the 50s and the 60s and of a certain age, a teenager on your way to becoming an adult, and you wanted to make movies, I don't see how you couldn't be influenced by Bergman." Martin Scorsese is not only one of eight directors participating in the film; as the chairman of World Cinema Foundation he is also one of the initiators to Ingmar Bergman Foundation's behind-the-scenes documentaries.

Stig Björkman:When was the first time you got in touch with a Bergman film? Do you recall your reaction and your feelings about it then?Martin Scorsese:Like most New Yorkers, I saw my first Bergman films in the 50s – The Seventh Seal, Wild Strawberries, Smiles of a Summer Night, Sawdust and Tinsel, The Magician, and so on. It's important to remember what it was like back in those days. It's not that we didn't see foreign films – we'd see them on TV with commercials, dubbed into English, black and white versions of the film if it was in color, and so on. But in those days, film culture was still in the process of forming. It was before the explosion of the 60s, when seeing films from around the world became something that was talked about in serious circles, as opposed to something that was tolerated, or spoken of among small groups of enthusiasts. So in the 50s, there were certain films and filmmakers who had a very dramatic impact on moviegoing, on the possibilities of movies, what they could do, where they could go. There was Kurosawa, with Rashomon and Seven Samurai. There was Fellini, with Nights of Cabiria and La Strada. There was Satyajit Ray with the Apu trilogy. There were the Russian films like The Cranes Are Flying. And there was Bergman. It's impossible to overestimate the effect that those films had on people. It's not that Bergman was the first film artist to confront serious themes. It's that he worked in a symbolic and an emotional language that was serious and accessible. He was young, he was setting an incredible pace, but he was looking at memory, old age, the reality of death, the reality of cruelty, and it was so vivid. So dramatic. Bergman's connection with the audience was somewhat like Hitchcock's – direct, immediate. Then, of course, with Persona, there was a second shock wave. That was a few years later, everyone around the world was reinventing cinema, and there was a sense of Bergman as being a figure from the preceding generation, someone who paved the way for Antonioni and Godard and Resnais and the rest of the New Wave, and so on. And then, suddenly, we saw Persona, and he had suddenly gone further than anyone else. Seeing that film for the first time was so thrilling, and it was terrifying – it demanded: "Look at this! Now what can you say about movies and what they can do?" What is it, according to you, that distinguishes a Bergman film from other directors' work? Which elements? His choice of themes or his treatment of certain themes?One aspect of Bergman's work that is quite striking is his masterful simplicity. Scenes from a Marriage, for instance – he's doing what you should do when you're making a film about a couple, he's concentrating on the basics: the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen, the office, the living room. You're confronted with their life together, and the rhythms, the way they speak to each other, the way they move around each other, their boredom, their irritations, their hopes, the emotions they sweep under the rug. And it's all writ large. So the simplicity of concentration gives it all a kind of grandeur – it's intimate and epic at the same time. You could say the same of Shame or of an earlier picture like Winter Light. The opening scene of that picture is stunning. With every movement, every gesture of every parishioner, you feel Gunnar Björnstrand's sense of disgust and desperation deepening, a little more with each cut.People often remark that you remember the faces in Bergman, and that's absolutely true. But you also think of the spaces between the people, and the spaces in which their interactions unfold. It's the way it is in life: it's real space, physical space, but it's also something else – an arena, of dreams or nightmares or fantasies, or a battleground. The bedroom shared by the minister and his wife in Fanny and Alexander is terrifying: the grey light, the hours going by slowly, the hatred and resentment and hurt growing, becoming monstrous; and meanwhile, Alexander is on a different kind of journey, a child's journey, and he's experiencing that same terror but in a different way. Or, there's the scene in Fanny and Alexander after the father has died, and the kids watch their mother through the doorway, walking back and forth screaming. It's a house, but it's also something else – a theater of mourning, you could say.Then there's the dialogue – sometimes the sheer volume of dialogue is overpowering and hurtful. It's somewhat like movements of music, or waves of emotion coming at you. Bergman had such a refined understanding of movies, and so many expressive tools – silence; an intense concentration on light, shadow, different times of day; the movement within space and the movement of space: I'm thinking of those great moments when he and Sven Nykvist stay fixed on a face while the actor moves, and the space behind them seems to be moving – again, that's very lifelike, because it's close to the way consciousness works, when you're absorbed in something. And he's a masterful dramatist, he orchestrates gradual shifts in mood and tone. But sometimes the immersion in dialogue between two people, or between two couples, becomes hypnotic, then overwhelming – in Scenes from a Marriage, obviously, but also in the German film, From the Life of the Marionettes, or in The Passion of Anna, a great film. Or in Autumn Sonata. Has Bergman and his films in any way influenced you as a filmmaker? And, if so, in what way?It's so difficult to talk about influence. People influence you in mysterious ways. There have been certain cases in my life where I've seen work that has had a profound effect on me, and then I've gotten to know the artist and they've had a different kind of effect on me – this was the case with John Cassavates, and then with Michael Powell. In Bergman's case, I never got to know him personally. But I guess I'd put it like this: if you were alive in the 50s and the 60s and of a certain age, a teenager on your way to becoming an adult, and you wanted to make movies, I don't see how you couldn't be influenced by Bergman. You would have had to make a conscious effort, and even then, the influence would have snuck through. I know that he's had a profound impact on many filmmakers around the world, in France in particular, people like Olivier Assayas and Arnaud Desplechin and André Téchiné, and then before that Truffaut and, particularly, Godard – people forget that. But here, it was just as profound. Bergman was a force to be reckoned with. Beyond that, as I said before, there’s the simplicity – the older I get, the more I realize that’s where I want to be. There are many filmmakers who achieved that kind of simplicity – Ford, who I know Bergman admired so much, or Rossellini, or Mizoguchi. And there's Bergman. He's an example to us all. The film you have chosen to talk more about is Saraband. Which were the reasons for this choice - and what is it in this particular film that fascinates you most?Saraband is one of those rare pictures that so few filmmakers are able to actually make – an old man's film, as they say, made by someone who doesn't have to worry about making money, or about pleasing the audience. They're free to explore themes they love or that have preoccupied them, to revisit characters and settings, to look at any aspect of life they choose from whatever distance, in whatever register they like. I suppose that Manoel de Oliveira has this kind of freedom now – which is good, because he's 102! Rohmer had it in those last, wonderful films he made. Resnais with his recent films. And of course Bergman had Saraband.And what's so unusual about that picture is that he'd been away from movies for so long at that point. I know he'd done the TV version of The Image Makers, the play about Sjöström, but it had been six years since In the Presence of a Clown and almost 20 years since After the Rehearsal. And suddenly, he decided that he wanted to revisit the characters from Scenes from a Marriage, check in on them. This seemed like an extraordinary thing to do. When I saw the picture, I was taken aback. The directness of it is overwhelming, absolutely shocking. The familiarity between the characters, the history between them, the fact that Liv Ullmann is confronted with a situation between her ex-husband's child from another marriage and his daughter – the sense of generations, of so much time and experience having passed, was astounding. You realize that Ullmann and Josephson's characters have gone way beyond the final reconciliation at the end of Scenes from a Marriage, that the touchstone of that film is now a distant memory for them. The intimacy, the naked intimacy between the characters – it's just there. And then it becomes literal, in that remarkable moment when Josephson and Ullmann take off their clothes and get into bed with each other. There’s no fuss about it, they're both wrecks, and they just do it. If you know Bergman's films and all the work he's done with both actors over the years, you realize that you're seeing a history of trust between the actors and their director, enacted in this scene. And of course, it's the characters – the nonchalance of it, the awkwardness and the fact that they don't have time to worry about being awkward, or the energy. It's sexual, in a way, but it's also the memory of sexual desire, the familiarity – there is layer upon layer of affection, rejection, animosity, failure, hopes destroyed, happiness, terror, and what it all boils down to is the familiarity, two people trying to keep each other warm, who feel comfortable taking off their clothes and getting into bed together. And you get the feeling that it would seem odd to both of them, on some level, if they didn't do it. Then there's the ending, which comes right after. I don't really know what to say about it. You have to experience it. Liv Ullmann sits in front of a desk. She's sorting through photos. She looks at the camera, and she talks about how her character, Marianne, and Josephson's character, Johan, have slowly drifted away from each other, again, for the last time. She doesn't say, "And then he died." She says, "I wrote but didn't get an answer. A silence fell." Then, there's a dissolve, and that's the last you hear of her relationship with Johan. Then, she picks up a photo of a woman named Anna, the wife of Johan's son, who has died years before. She wonders about Anna, about her life, about the way she moved, about her love. And then she's prompted to think of her own daughter, who is in a mental institution. There's a cut, and you see Ullmann sitting down in front of a woman in an institutional room. She looks at her, reaches and takes off the woman's glasses, and it's startling, for her and for us. She's shocked into looking at her mother, and then she closes her eyes. Then we cut back to Ullmann at the desk, and she says, "I realized for the first time in our life together than I was touching my daughter. My child." Saying the words causes her to break down in tears of anguish. And then we go to the end titles. There's nothing to say, because it's so complete, but, let's face it, there's so much to say. The sense of time moving forward, all the time, not stopping – you get such a powerful sense of that in the way she describes drifting apart from Johan again. And then, the train of thought drifts, from Johan to his daughter-in-law, to her own daughter, and as she follows the train of thought, she's led to a terrifying realization, right before our eyes – she spent a whole life separate from her daughter, and now, at long last, she was really touching her, really seeing her, for the first time. This is the way life happens, although we don't want to admit it. We build barriers with certain people, sometimes the people who mean the most to us, because the intimacy is too much, the fear of exposure is too overwhelming. We do it, and they allow us to do it, because they have the same fears. And you come to a moment of your life when you've dropped all your defenses and your mental scenarios, and you see these things clearly. It's a chilling moment, a scary moment, but it's also a liberating moment, because she’s speaking openly and without shame. And the camera is there, seeing her, recording a human face, human actions, reflecting her most honest self back to her. That's acceptance, in the Buddhist sense. And it's a kind of simplicity we should all aspire to, as people and as artists.

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Posted

uh, a taman se spremam jedan mini-ciklus m.powellaa metter of life and deaththe red shoesill met by moonlightpeeping tomage of consent

Posted (edited)

u Film Commentu intervju sa boginjom, Isabelle Huppert.Isabelle-Huppert.jpg

Edited by 3opge
Posted (edited)

...na svakom kiosku u srbiji

Edited by korindjar
Posted (edited)
...na svakom kiosku u srbiji
nema ga nigde jos na netu, novi broj, ako iskopam stavicu. Edited by 3opge
Posted
u Film Commentu intervju sa boginjom, Isabelle Huppert.Isabelle-Huppert.jpg
Malo je reći "boginja", malo...22nd+European+Film+Awards+PaE4amvrfEYl.jpgIsabella-Blue-415.jpgBtw, drago mi je i jedva čekam da vidim Mendozin film u kojem će glumiti.
Posted

u medjuvremenu...."Huppert - diminutive in appearance, commanding in presence........"

Isabelle Huppert on Claire Denis, What Intimidates Her, and Dealing with the PressBy Nigel M. Smith (November 18, 2010)French cinema siren Isabelle Huppert, arguably one of the world’s greatest working actresses, is also one of the busiest, having appeared in over 90 film and television productions. Since landing her first film role in 1971 in Jean L’Hotes TV movie “Le Prussien,” France’s most famous red head has gone on to serve as the muse for Jean-Luc Godard, Benoit Jacquot, Michael Haneke and most notably the late Claude Chabrol, with whom she collaborated countless times in such classics as “La Cérémonie,” “Madame Bovary,” and “Violette Nozière” which netted Huppert her first Cannes Best Actress award. Later in her career she won that same award for her searing turn in Haneke’s “The Piano Teacher,” and remains one out of only four women to have accomplished that feat.While Huppert has worked with the majority of France’s biggest directors, her latest film, “White Material,” marks her first collaboration with Claire Denis, the celebrated auteur of such films as “Chocolat,” “Beau Travail,” and “35 Shots of Rum.” In “White Material,” set in an unnamed African country on the brink of an all out civil war, Huppert plays Maria, a French farmer who struggles to keep her coffee plantation afloat amidst the escalating violence. When her workers flee the plantation in fear of the rebel soldiers, many of them children, Maria takes matters into her own hands and suffers the consequences.Huppert - diminutive in appearance, commanding in presence - sat down with indieWIRE in New York to chat about the project and to discuss her illustrious career.Though “White Material” was made after you approached Denis with Doris Lessing’s novel “The Grass is Singing,” which is set during the late 1940’s, the film doesn’t seem to have much in common with the book.Actually nothing was kept from the book. I first asked Claire if she would consider doing “The Grass is Singing,” because I loved the book. She kept only the idea of this white woman in Africa trying to cope with this eternal and universal antagonism between black and white. But in the book the character is much more of a victim, more like a Madame Bovary. And so she kept the idea of a woman in Africa. But she made up a whole different scrip. She really placed the character from a victim to a much more active woman who really fights very hard until the end for that she wants. And therefore the character looks more like she was from a novel by Nobel Prize winner John Maxwell Coetzee.This marks your first time working with Denis, but you two have known each other for nearly 30 years, correct?Let’s keep the figures out. I’ve known her for some time yes. I think we always wanted to work together. We just never found a mutual and good opportunity. It was meant to happen, and it happened a bit late, but it happened, and hopefully it will happen again.Denis was quoted in an interview with The Guardian saying you’re an actress who is curious to find something about yourself in your roles, and that you’re not afraid of doing so. What, if anything, did you discover about yourself in playing Maria?I didn’t find anything about myself. Maybe what I discovered was my physical capacity to face certain situations. But I mean it was no great surprise for me. I didn’t know I was going to be able to ride a motorcycle, like I do in the film, and things of the like. I’m saying that because the character is clearly and mostly defined by her physical capacities and abilities. She’s not psychological. This physical endurance is important to define the character. She’s someone who goes to the end; that’s what it is about. She doesn’t want to give up. There are no - like in some other characters in some other films - strategies, psychological complexities. It’s just she has to save that crop crop of coffee. That’s all it is about. But then it becomes a metaphysical quest almost, because it’s a quest for staying where she is. It’s a quest for staying in this territory where she belongs. And it casts a different light on what colonialism is. Because it has nothing to do with property, or with having; it has to do with being. This is why the movie is so strong and powerful. It really has a lot to say in terms of people’s attachment to the land. But not in terms of property. You want to keep it because it defines what you are.You’re frequently labelled as a fearless actress. Has any role scared or intimidated you before showing up on set?A role would intimidate me if it was bad. That would be the only reason why I would be intimidated by a role or scared, or uneasy. When roles are good, with great directors, in great films, there is no reason to be worried, or to be suspicious. That’s how I see things.You’ve been known to refer to acting as an intrinsically private matter. With that in mind, what do you make of the promotion process that comes after completing a film?Well I do it because it’s nice to speak about movies, and it’s a public media. The more people get to see a movie, the better it is. And of course, you have to draw people’s attention to any event. Even more so now.Sometimes I don’t feel really at ease with the kind of clichés of the actress that I’m being fed back with. When you go through promotion, yes you are more imprisoned into a so-called image of what you are. Not most of the time. But that’s that.When your films hit theaters do you ever feel nervous or apprehensive about what you’re putting out there in the world?I’m curious about what people are going to think. When you make movies it’s obviously because you want to connect with people. Of course I’m interested but up to a certain point. I’m not going to throw myself out of a window if a movie if badly received. Even when a movie is not well received, it’s always interesting to hear the reasons why. It’s a pubic proposal, and it’s more than normal that it’s going to create controversies, or some kind of disagreement. It creates a dialogue, and that’s a dynamic of course.In Marc Fitoussi’ “Copacabana,” which premiered at the Critic’s Week during this year’s Cannes Film Festival, you act opposite your daughter Lolita Chammah. What was it like playing mother to her on screen?Well at the beginning it was a bit weird. When we first started, during the first hours, we thought ‘Oh my god! Is that serious?’ It was unrealistic. It was surrealistic. I don’t know how to describe it. As a consequence we were just laughing. We couldn’t take it seriously. But then after a small time of course it became serious. And it was fun actually, and became easy. Part of the relationship was by definition accepted, because we are mother and daughter. Now I would be interested in playing with her in a non mother daughter relationship. That would be nice and challenging.Can you reveal anything about your speculated involvement in Ulrike Ottinger’s “The Blood Countess” opposite Tilda Swinton who is slated to portray Hungarian countess Elizabeth Báthory?At this point I’m not quite a hundred percent sure it’s going to get made. Hopefully it will be. It would be wonderful being reunited; Tilda and I. It’s the same subject matter that Julie Deply did in “The Countess.” It’s more abstract approach of the same subject. Ottinger is a sort of a underground Berlinaise director, very strange. So we’ll see.You’re remained remarkably busy both on screen and on stage since first embarking on your career. Do you ever see yourself retiring?Well why not, maybe. I think when you do things with such passion, with such need, it goes without saying that you always deal with this fantasy of stopping everything and maybe experiencing. You like to live with this idea that you might have a totally different life, invisible. I don’t know…maybe.

Posted

Se može piskarati po IMDB forumu, a da im se ne da račun na Amazonu (koji nemam), broj kreditne kartice (koju nemam) ili broj telefona (...)? (ili, u suprotnom, ako neko već piše tamo, može da se javi na PM pošto mi je potrebno da pošaljem samo jedan post i to je sve...)

Posted

Vrlo sam obavesten. <_< (a ulaz za dzabe)Na Nedelji japanskog filma u Dvorani Kulturnog centra Beograda predstavlja se šest filmskih ostvarenja, i to 5 igranih i jedan animirani film. Filmovi su nastali u periodu od 1991. do 2008. godine. Većinu ovih melodrama koje se bave porodičnim, ličnim i društvenim problemima, beogradska publika do sad nije imala priliku da vidi.Nedelju japanskog filma u Dvorani Kulturnog centra Beograda će otvoriti NJ.E. ambasador Japana u Republici Srbiji, g. Tošio Cunozaki.Na programu Nedelje japanskog filma su:

sreda, 24.novembar18.00 Buđenje (Awaking), 2006, trajanje 125'r/sc: Junđi Sakamoto (prema romanu Nacue Kirino); k: Rjo Ocuka; uloge: Jun Fubuki (Tošiko Sekigući), Tecuši Tanaka (Akijuki), Takako Tokiva (Miho), Jošiko Mita (Akiko Ito) Tri godine nakon odlaska u penziju, Tošikin muž umire od srčanog udara. Pripremajući sve za sahranu, njena porodica se okuplja: ćerka Miho i sin Akijuki sa suprugom, koju Tošiko prvi put upoznaje, jer njih dvoje žive Kaliforniji. Igrom slučaja, Tošiko saznaje da je njen muž imao ljubavnu aferu sa starijom ženom, kojoj je odlazio svakoga četvrtka, govoreći joj da ide na kurs kuvanja. četvrtak, 25. novembar20.30 Mladost Etsuko Kamije (The Blossoming of Etsuko Kamiya), 2006, trajanje 111'r: Kazuo Kuroki; sc: Kazuo Kuroki, Hideki Jamada (prema drami Masatake Macude); k: Koići Kavakami: uloge: Tomojo Harada (Ecuko Kamija), Masatoši Nagase (poručnik Nagajo Nagamasa), Šunsuke Masaoka (poručnik Akaši), Kaoru Kobajaši (Jasutada, Ecukin brat), Manami Honđo (Fusa, Jasutadina supruga) Na krovu bolnice stariji bračni par se seća trešnjinog stabla koje je raslo ispred kuće u Komencu, tamo gde je bila Ecukina kuća. Lagano, par se seća i Drugog svetskog rata i okolnosti u kojima su se upoznali. Ecuko je tada, nakon smrti njihovih roditelja, živela s bratom i njegovom suprugom. Bila je zaljubljena u poručnika Akašija, mlađeg prijatelja njenog brata. Ali, jednoga dana Akaši predlaže Ecuki brak sa svojim prijateljem Nagajom.petak, 26. novembar20.30 Prizori s mora (A Scene At The Sea), 1991, trajanje 101'r/sc: Takeši Kitano; k: Kacumi Janagišima; uloge: Kroudo Maki (Šigeru), Hiroko Ošima (Takako), Sabu Kavahara (Takoh), Tošizo Fujivara (Nakajima) Šigeru je gluvonemi mladić koji radi kao đubretar. Na svojoj ruti među odbačenim stvarima pronalazi dasku za surfovanje. Zainteresovan, popravlja je i odlazi na plažu. Njegovi pokušaji da uhvati talase su neuspešni, ali on odlučno dan za danom, odlazi na plažu i vežba. U uzaludnim pokušajima posmatraju ga njegova devojka Takako i skeptični lokalni surferi.subota, 27.novembar20.30 Planinska groznica (Climber`s High), 2008, trajanje 145'r: Masato Harada; sc: Masato Harada, Masato Kato, Izuru Narušima (prema romanu Hidea Jokojame); k: Gen Kobajaši; uloge: Šinići Cucumi (Kazuo Juki), Masato Sakai (Tacuja Sajama), Maćiko Ono (Ćizuko Tamaki), Masahiro Takašima (Anzai Koićiro) Baziran na stvarnom događaju, tragičnoj avionskoj nesreći koja se dogodila 1985. godine, film se fokusira na lokalnog novinara koji radi na toj priči. Nakon pada aviona, od 524 putnika, samo je četvoro preživelo. Novinar koji prati tu vest od samog početka, uz suočavanje s raznim glasinama i istinom vezanom za sam događaj, pokušava rešiti i pitanja vezana za sopstvenu karijeru, novinarsku etiku i privatni život.nedelja, 28.novembar20.30 Ranjeni anđeli (Scarred Angels), 1997, trajanje 118'r: Junđi Sakamoto; sc: Šoići Marujama; k: Norimići Kasamacu; uloge: Ecuši Tojokava (Micuru Kida), Claude Maki (Hisaši Išii), Tomojo Harada (Eiko Taćibana), Bang-ho Ćo (Ićiro Higašijama) Micuru Kida vodi malu detektivsku agenciju pored Tokija, a u radu mu povremeno pomaže prijatelj Hisaši. Njih dvojica će se posvađati, i Micuru odlučuje da napusti grad. Taman u to vreme dobija zadatak koji ga odvodi u napuštenu zgradu gde pronalazi mafijaša koji je na samrti. Sažalivši se na njega, on mu obećava da će njegovog sina odvesti njegovoj bivšoj ženi. ponedeljk, 29.novembar20.30 Božji mač - animirani film (The Dagger of Kamui), 1985, trajanje 132'r: Rintaro; sc: Mori Masaki (prema priči Toru Janoa); k: Ivao Jamaki; a: Takuo Nodaglasovi: Hirojuki Sanada (Điro), Mami Kojama (Ojuki), Tarô Išida (Tenkai), Juriko Jamamoto (Ćiko), Ićihiro Nagai (Andô Šouzan) U 19. veku u Japanu, u vreme šogunata, priča prati mladog Điroa, siroče, koji je ostavljen sam plutajući u brodu, zajedno s bodežom Kamuija, koji dokazuje da je pripadnik plemena Ainu. Kada Điro napuni trinaest godina, ubijaju njegovog staratelja. Kako on biva optužen za taj zločin primoran je da beži. Tada upoznaje sveštenika Tenkaija koji od njega stvara nidžu. Ali, Tenkai nije ono što se čini...

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