El joven cantante de Rock & Roll Ritchie Valens –Richard Steven Valenzuela, estadounidense de origen, pero de ascendencia mexicana- realiza su primera grabación en julio de 1958 con el tema Come On, Let’s Go (en aquél momento apenas contaba con 17 años). Se convirtió con rapidez en su carta de presentación para con el público y la crítica, recibiendo una calurosa aprobación de ambas partes. Aunque no es tan famosa como Donna (y tampoco tuvo, en realidad, tanto éxito), la canción tiene su encanto…

Ritchie Valens es más célebre por su adaptación rockera del tema popular mexicano La Bamba, característico del estado de Veracruz (aunque tuvo que aprenderse la letra a la perfección, pues nunca pudo dominar completamente el idioma español). También, tristemente, es conocida la forma brusca en la que terminó su carrera. La noche del 3 de febrero de 1959, cuando viajaba junto a Buddy Holly y J.P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson, su vehículo (un pequeño avión Beechcraft Bonanza) se desplomó a causa de una tormenta de nieve, causando la muerte instantánea de los tres grandes. Don McLean definió este evento años más tarde como “El día en que la música murió” (véase American Pie).

Fuentes/Referencias: http://www.ritchievalens.com/ ; http://www.american.edu/cas/philorel/prominenthispanics/prominenthispanics.htm ; http://www.history-of-rock.com/ ; http://www.don-mclean.com/?p=68

               Impulsion

My brand new psychoanalyst agreed.

I could tell as he sat smoking in his tweed.

I’d found someone who understood my need.

Yes, I’d found someone , someone indeed.

My monologue was you and our affair;

The reason, as you know, why I was there.

I put aside my pride (I even cried).

As last, my silent analyst replied:

“You’ve got impulsion.

In the jargon of my colleague, Doctor Dyber G..Enetic,

It’s pituadrenalogic, in its early form kinetic.

Symptomatic is that hilo-satisfactatory pain

Pushing firmly, gently, always on the amatory brain.

But a functional disorder is not measurably plain –

So relax and we will see what we can do.

It’s possible there’s nothing wrong with you.”

My fifty minute hour flew

At twenty dollars per.

Parenthetically, I pay him less

Than all the rest, I’m sure.

Left the office, said “Goodbye, nurse.”

Reached the door and found my purse.

Took an Equanil to calm me down

And calmly feeling worse,

Took a Deximil to pick me up,

A stick of gum and nursed a cigarette.

How did it start?

Where is the cause now?

I guess I’ll have to blame it one my youth.

My applecart is applesauce now,

And my actions are neurotically uncouth.

I’ve got impulsion,

I’m very glad it’s got a name.

Now I can play my little game

Of poisons darts blown at your little picture frame.

I feel so stylish.

I feel so chic.

I’ve got impulsion.

©Impulsion 59.3.20

A Sense Of The Ridiculous;

Arlene Corwin

       Poem (first poem in the mystical state)

Something’s happening inside;

I think I’ve just died.

I’m going home to see.

Feeling is unreasoned,

Rather like unseasoned squash,

Or a ghastly recipe:

To three cups salt add four grams goulash.

Disinterested, uncontrolled field of flounces

Sloshes like a slattern in the rain;

Inane pattern

Of windrowed plain.

The definition of cumulus cloud:

Abraham Lincoln, looking so proud

Becomes a dog. Preposterous!

So I’ve died without a fuss,

For life plus I equals feeling, mood,

And all is verisimilitude.

©First Poem In The Mystical State 59.10

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; To The Child Mystic;

Arlene Corwin

IMDB

谷崎潤一郎暢銷異色小說《鍵》，描繪一對中年夫婦、女兒和其男友四人之間變態扭曲的錯綜情慾，至今已四度搬上大銀幕，這個由市川崑執導、宮川一夫掌鏡的版本，瀰漫著詭異的冷調氛圍，徹底陶醉官能美的追求之中，徹底實踐谷崎耽美派風格，醞釀著一股令人窒息的濃郁不安感，一舉摘下當年坎城影展評審團特別獎和金球獎最佳外語片。

劇情剝離分析之後，整部片其實只剩下一個風殘燭年的主角，為了保持自己「年輕」的慾望，操弄出的一場鬧劇。把自己的年輕妻子介紹給女兒的未婚妻，安排各種獨處的場合製造雙方產生不倫戀的機會，又安排女兒發現兩人的畸戀，傳回自己的耳朵後，假裝不在意的主角，其實一切都在盤算之中，還相當享受這種快感，更顯露出主角追求年輕的強烈慾望，至死方休。

(1898-1959) Durante los primeros años cincuenta dirigió la actuación ideológica del Partido y ejerció el control sobre todas las actividades culturales del país. En 1953 abandonó el Comité Central del Partido y el Ministerio de Cultura Popular, y desde entonces hasta 1958 fue vicepresidente del Consejo Presidencial de la República. En julio de 1956 volvió al Comité Central del Partido, en donde se mantuvo hasta su muerte en 1959.

(1889-1961) Se convirtió en Presidente del Gobierno tras el triunfo del Partido de los Pequeños Propietarios en las elecciones del 4 de noviembre de 1945. Pocos meses después -1 de febrero de 1946- abandonó ese puesto para ocupar el cargo de Presidente de la República. En la primera mitad de los años cincuenta se le obligó a retirarse de la vida pública y sufrió arresto domiciliario. Durante la insurrección de octubre y noviembre de 1956, en el segundo Gobierno de Imre Nagy, fue nombrado Ministro de Estado en representación del Partido de los Pequeños Propietarios. En 1958, en el mismo proceso judicial urdido contra Nagy, Tildy fue condenado a seis años de prisión. Liberado en 1959, murió dos años después.

IMDB

在和平環境成長的人不會懂戰爭的殘酷，你我皆然。

本片描述二戰末期在即將撤退菲律賓的日軍，為了食物、存活下去，顯露出人性最底層的渺小，最後甚至獵起了「猴子」。身為觀眾的我們想必會感到不可思議，為了生存竟然獵殺同袍，吃掉身上的肉只為活下去。

主角是個充滿衝突的角色，一開始為了逃離戰場，選擇冒著危險徒步走到醫院，卻被醫院拒絕收留。主角其實是想不計一切代價逃離戰場的，就算死了也無所謂，但在逃離的過程，主角卻還是苟且的活了下來。在河岸洗腳的一幕，主角看到一隻螞蟻雖然逃不出主角的手掌，卻拼了命的反抗，也隱喻著主角只是在做頑強的抵抗而已。

主角一開始就讓人感受到強烈的反戰意識，隨著劇情推演，最後目睹朋友殺掉同袍，大口吃肉的時候，終於無法忍受，舉起了槍對著他，結束這一段諷刺的景象。最後主角選擇走向農村燃燒的稻草堆，只希望再看一眼正常人的生活。（看到這一幕我悶到說不出話…人落到這樣的地步，真的是比死還不如。）

Nu sunt monarhist sau republican, dar nu ma pot abtine sa nu va intreb:

Ce-ar fi fost daca in fruntea Romaniei nu ar fost adus un print strain in persoana lui Carol de Hohenzollern?

Romanii au un dar de a se certa precum chiorii, chiar si cand le bate dezastrul la usa; astfel ca, dupa inlaturarea lui Cuza, liberalii si conservatorii se otarau unii la altii pe putere, chiar daca Rusia tarista nu astepta decat un semn de tulburare interna ca sa intervina. Nici turcilor nu le displacea dezordinea din tara. Daca ar fi fost ales un alt domn, acesta ar fi fost fie un pion al uneia dintre marile puteri cu interese in zona, fie un dobitoc cu pretentii de dictator si cu un sfarsit pe masura, fie un pampalau in fata caruia grupurile de interese (o fi expresia moderna, dar conceptul e vechi) s-ar fi duelat pentru ciolanul de atunci, cat era el. Pana la urma, Rusia ar fi intrat in Moldova si ar fi alipit-o Basarabiei pe care deja o detinea, Unirea din 1859 s-ar fi destramat, de unire cu Transilvania nici nu s-ar mai fi pus problema, Romania ar fi fost doar Muntenia+Oltenia, iar Craiova ar fi avut sanse reale de a fi capitala tarii:))))).

Anatomía de un asesinato (Anatomy of a Murder, 1959) de Otto Preminger, es una excelente película de cine legal basada en la novela homónima de Robert Traver(1). La película fue nominada a siete estatuillas de la Academia pero no ganó ninguna porque tuvo la mala suerte de coincidir con Ben Hur (Ibid, 1959) de William Wyler que arrasó con los premios. Como se ha señalado “esta película es una especie de tormenta cuadriculada, una tortuosa e incluso tumultuosa historia narrada, a media voz y a través de unas formas y tiempos sometidos a la apasionante racionalidad de un narrador empeñado en dar orden al caos”.(2) El director austriaco, abogado e hijo de un magistrado, filmó Anatomía de un asesinato entre las cintas Porgy y Bess (Porgy and Bess, 1959) y Éxodo (Exodus, 1960) es decir, en la cumbre de su etapa analítica. Preminger bombardea incansablemente al espectador con todos los datos que el guión le permite para que sea éste quien elabore sus propias conclusiones teniendo a mano solo una colección de indicios y medias verdades.(3)

Una serie de elementos de la cinta nos remiten al cine negro clásico, desde la elección del color –filmada en blanco y negro-, la banda sonora, la presencia de una mujer fatal, un protagonista con una fuerte personalidad y un ambiente enrarecido que ronda pesadamente durante casi toda la película.(4) Mención aparte merece la excelente banda sonora, a cargo del genial Duke Ellington, que tiene una breve aparición en la cinta como un músico apodado como Pie eye. Sin duda, nos encontramos ante uno de los estandartes mayores del género, calificada incluso como la más pura película de juicios que jamás se ha realizado(5), o también, como uno de los mejores ejemplos del funcionamiento de los procedimientos ordinarios de los tribunales.(6)

Anatomía de un asesinato, como corresponde tratándose de un clásico del género, se desarrolla a partir de un crimen que nunca se nos expone. Paul Biegler (un magnífico James Stewart) es un abogado provinciano en horas bajas que se había desempeñado como fiscal del condado de Iron City en Michigan. Dedica la mayor parte de su tiempo a pescar, a escuchar jazz y a leer viejos libros de Derecho. Eventualmente, cuando no se encuentra perdido en el bosque pescando, patrocina algunos casos de divorcio para poder solventar los menudos gastos de su austera vida. - Resuelvo algunos casos abstractos, como divorciar a Jane Fulano de John Fulano de vez en cuando. Amenazo a algunos abusivos y por la noche me relajo bebo whisky y leo sobre leyes, nos confiesa en una parte de la cinta. En este trance, patrocina el caso de un teniente del ejército, excombatiente de la Guerra de Corea, Frederick Manion (Ben Gazzara), acusado de haber dado muerte a tiros al presunto violador de su disoluta y atractiva esposa, Laura (Lee Remick). Bigler contará con la ayuda de su viejo amigo, el borrachín Parnell McCarthy (Arthur O´Connell) y de su secretaria Maida Rutledge (Eve Arden).

El carácter y no la posible culpabilidad de su posible patrocinado llevan a Bigler a dudar respecto de aceptar la defensa. Parnell le llamará la atención aleccionándole, - no tienes que amarlo, sólo defenderlo. Superada esta incertidumbre inicial, la cinta se convierte en una clase práctica de destreza legal. Durante casi dos horas se nos expone el proceso que se sigue contra el teniente Manion con suma rigurosidad, en particular nos detalla de forma exquisita las posiciones de la defensa y de la fiscalía, al tiempo que explicita con puntualidad las estrategias no sólo dialécticas del juego procesal.

Este es una contienda de caballeros. Las partes enfrentadas buscan la verdad sin sobrepasar los límites éticos que las reglas del proceso les imponen, lejos de las prácticas de los letrados que encontramos en cintas posteriores, basta para ello citar los casos de Martin Vail (Richard Gere) en La raíz del miedo (Primal Fear, 1996) de Gregory Hoblit, Ed Concannon (James Mason) en Veredicto final (The Verdict, 1982) de de Sydney Lumet o Leo F. Drummond (Jon Voight) en Legítima Defensa (The Rainmaker, 1997) de Francis Ford Coppola. Las reglas son una barrera infranqueable, se pueden bordear pero nunca saltar. Este respeto por la regla obliga a las partes a hilar fino en el desarrollo de sus estrategias, paradójicamente, aún cuando se trate de un proceso judicial y el apego a la regla no es siempre excepcional, algo que el espectador agradece, pues gracias a ello puede aferrarse a una trama sin sobresaltos tramposos y quiebres innecesarios. Debido a todos estos aspectos tenemos una cinta con una gran dosis de verosimilitud sin que se pierda interés en el desenlace final. Si hablamos de verosimilitud, es necesario detenernos por un momento en el papel del bondadoso y recto juez Weaver, encarnado por Joseph M. Welch, quien en la vida real fue un conocido magistrado liberal perseguido por el macartismo y que ganó fama representando a la Armada de los Estados Unidos cuando esta institución empezó a ser investigada por el senador de Wisconsin a inicios de los 50.(7)

El hecho de que las partes se atengan a la regla, no significa que los letrados no desarrollen una batería de comentarios irónicos y sarcásticos para desacreditar a su oponente. Este intercambio de ideas se convertirá casi en pelea callejera cuando la fiscalía y la defensa se enfrentan casi a escupitajos en medio del Tribunal como si de colegiales se tratara. Es allí donde aparece la figura del Juez, al que el guión le reserva no sólo el papel de valedor del juicio, sino también algunas de las frases más inteligentes y finamente irónicas de la cinta. El guión recoge algunas lecciones prácticas respecto de la labor de los letrados en un proceso, como por ejemplo no hacer al testigo una pregunta cuya respuesta no se conoce. Lección que no tenía bien aprendida el fiscal Claude Dancer (George C. Scott) al presionar a la señorita Pilant (Kathryn Grant) para que ésta señale cuál era su relación con la víctima. Instrucción que no es fácil de internalizar, recordemos que Jan Schlichtmann (John Travolta) en Acción Civil (A Civil Action, 1998) de Steven Zaillian y Francis Galvin (Francis Galvin) en Veredicto Final cometerán el mismo error. Otra lección es cuando las partes obligan al jurado a oír algunos argumentos que carecen de la suficiente consistencia o se sustentan medidamente en pruebas inadmisibles, como hará habitualmente el fiscal en Testigo de cargo (Witness for the Prosecution, 1957) de Billy Wilder. Aún cuando el Juez invoque al Jurado para que no tome en cuenta tales comentarios y evidencias, es claro que el daño para el oponente ya está hecho. - ¿Cómo puede el jurado no tener en cuenta lo que ha oído? Le pregunta el teniente Manion a Biegler. - No puede, le responderá.

El principal inconveniente para la cusa que Biegler defiende es que aparentemente carece de la percha legal de la cual colgar los argumentos de su defensa. De esta forma lo expondrá Biegler: - Un asesinato se defiende de cuatro formas. Número uno, no fue asesinato, fue suicidio o accidente. Número dos, usted no le asesinó. Número tres, estaba justificado, lo hizo para proteger su hogar o fue en defensa propia. Número cuatro, matarlo puede excusarle. Sin embargo, Biegler conducirá a su defendido por el camino más conveniente, cuando le escucha decir que debió estar loco cuando cometió el crimen. - Recuerde que tan loco se volvió. Le animará Biegler. Es la percha legal que andaba buscando y se aferrará a ella aunque se trate de un clavo ardiendo. Durante el proceso, el psiquiatra del ejército, que sometió a una revisión al acusado, declara que el teniente Manion sufrió una reacción disociativa, un impulso irresistible o irrefrenable, que a modo de demencia temporal o enajenación mental transitoria le llevó a la comisión del asesinato. Es decir, que actuó como un cartero, que tiene que enviar una comunicación y lo hace. Esta reacción es independiente de que el acusado pudiera tener presente, incluso en el propio momento del crimen, de su reprobable actuación.

Preminger en aras de la relatividad que ha defendido durante toda la cinta, elimina dos instantes cruciales en todo drama legal, los informes orales de la defensa y de la fiscalía y la sentencia. Solo nos deja con una reflexión de Parnell respecto de la complejidad de la labor del jurado y de su grado de falibilidad. - Doce personas en una habitación. Con diferentes mentalidades, diferentes corazones y doce procedencias diferentes. Doce pares de ojos y oídos, doce personas distintas. Y a estas doce personas se les pide que juzguen a otro ser humano, tan diferente a ellas como ellas lo son entre sí. Y al emitir su criterio deben volverse una sola mente, unánime. Uno de los milagros de nuestra desorganizada humanidad es que lo consigan, y que la mayoría de las veces lo hagan bien. ¡Dios Bendiga a los jurados! Biegler gana el caso, pero cuando va a cobrar por su trabajo, se da con la sorpresa que el teniente Manion ha escapado de la ciudad, no sin antes dejar una nota que viene a sembrar aún más dudas respecto de su inocencia: - Querido señor Biegler, siento mucho haberme ido repentínamente. Fui presa de un impulso irresistible. 

I’m watching Ellen interview Dennis Quaid on today’s (Tues 10/14) show.  He’s promoting the film “The Express” (Ernie Davis story).  I’m going to quote a segment of the interview and ask if you were a little bothered by a comment he made.

Ellen:
So let’s talk about the film “The Express.”  Tell people what it’s about.

Dennis:
It’s the Ernie Davis story.  Ernie Davis is the first African-American athlete to win the Heisman trophy back in ‘59, and I play his coach who was Ben Schwartzwalder who was one of those old school tough as nails.  You might say he’s a meanie but he’s not, kind of a guy. Uh, he actually may have been (pauses), but by today’s standards you may call him a racist but back then he was just part of the status quo.  and uh it’s a very inspiring story of Ernie Davis and the relationship he had between his coach.  we basically turn out to be father and son in the end…

It’s the part I highlighted above that made me literally push the pause button and rewind so I could hear the entire comment.  As a person of color, do you find it bothersome when a white person makes a statement like that?  It’s almost like it was ok to be racist back then, but not now.

What do you think?

The rest of his appearance on Ellen was fun.  Oprah had him wear a mic in his ear and he went into Starbucks and repeated random stuff that Ellen told him to say.  Totally Ellen, and totally funny.

So back to my serious point.  I’d love to hear your comments.

Bom, tomei coragem e comecei a fazer uma coisa que sempre quis: escrever um livro de ficção.

Ele se passa no ano de 1959, na cidade americana de Memphis e conta a história da conturbada relação entre dois irmãos na época em que todos queriam ser Elvis Presley. Uma relação cheia de nuances, inveja e admiração, onde um irmão vive à sombra do outro e muitas coisas acontecem (obviamente não vou contar pra que vocês, quem sabe um dia, comprem).

E ainda tem um toque de Tyler Durden na história toda…

Wish me luck! Afinal só falta a árvore e - espero que - o filho.

It’s with some film grump shame that I admit my experience with Alfred Hitchcock is limited. My early exposure to film was basically limited to what my dad thought was good and entertaining, thus my history with all manners of sci-fi, from 2001: A Space Odyssey to Deep Star Six. Once I became independent enough to pursue my own interests (Netflix lol) I began to culture myself in the filmmakers I wanted to see/thought I should see. Hitchcock wasn’t far from the top of the list. I’d only ever seen one of his films before, Rebecca, with Film Walrus and had a blast. It was an excellent movie with far-reaching influence, a fantastically twisted and layered story and even better acting. So I was definitely stoked to dive into the presumably warm waters of Hitchcock’s other work.

But was that really the case?

I started with Vertigo, since aside from Psycho it was the film I most associated with the director. It started with an incredibly cool title sequence with trippy visuals and a fantastic overture by Bernard Herrmann. I was SO fucking pumped to be wowed by the movie. But I ended up being underwhelmed by it after having to stretch out watching it over two nights because of how sleepy it made me.

Vertigo is about a former police detective (James Stewart) who left the force after his partner fell to his death while chasing a criminal over rooftops. During that incident he discovers he’s afflicted with vertigo, which the movie seems to define as a fear of heights. (Let’s not even get into the technicalities of this, shall we?) After that, he’s hired by an old friend from school to trail his wife, whom has been behaving very oddly as of late. She’s been acting as if possessed, disappearing with her car for hours on end with no memory of where she’s been and what she’s done. Skeptical, Stewart reluctantly agrees to follow her. During this period of observation, he sees her obsessed with a painting of her great-grandmother that hangs in a museum and witnesses her jump off a cliff into the San Francisco Bay. He jumps after her and saves her, beginning their attraction towards each other that ends in tragedy.

That’s all I can describe without spoiling the plot twists, which might be the only reason to see the movie. The rest of it is so fucking dull. Most of the first half is taken up by quiet passages of Stewart tailing the dame in his car or on foot with nothing but the Herrmann score to carry it. The plot tries to build up a sense of mystery, but it just never becomes dense enough to lift up the bloated running time. Did this movie REALLY need to be over two hours long?

A lot of this movie hinges on the central romance between Stewart and his love interest, the “possessed” wife. And I can’t enjoy the movie very much when I don’t enjoy that. I just found their relationship tiresome at first. Kim Novak, the actress playing the love interest, is sort of pretty in that generic Old Hollywood actress way, but doesn’t bring a whole lot of personality and charisma to her role. She seems like a zombie for most of the first half. And Stewart… I’m not used to seeing him look so old. Apparently, Hitchcock blamed Stewart’s age for the critical and commercial failure of the film and stopped working with him. A bit harsh, but I see where he was coming from. It doesn’t help that their romance just takes on an unnerving and disgusting tone in the second half that barely makes me want to call it a romance at all. I realize that’s what Hitchcock was going for, but it was just really unpalatable to me. What was much more interesting to me was the tension between Stewart and his “Girl Friday,” Midge, whom he shares a few scenes with. They had a shared romantic past that had some interesting stuff going on with it, but as Stewart becomes more obsessed with Novak, she sort of gets put to the side and forgotten about. Tsk.

I suppose my problem with Vertigo is that it hardly ever comes alive. Its whole “thing” is a sort of detached, eerie, haunting quietness with lots of repetition that isn’t a good vehicle for 2+ hours sitting in front of a TV waiting for something extraordinary to happen. Which isn’t to say it never does. The famous staircase scene with the now legendary “contra-zoom” vertigo effect was a welcome breath of, I dunno, TENSION. There’s also a splendidly spooky (I’d almost say Lynch-esque if it wasn’t decades before him) nightmare sequence about two-thirds of the way into the film that rekindled my interest, however briefly. I mean, I guess for a suspense movie it did keep me on the edge of my seat… waiting for something to happen. :|

So it was with trepidation I approached the next film on my queue, North by Northwest. I knew pretty much nothing about it aside from the fact it was another famous Hitchcock film. But now that didn’t mean much to me. If Vertigo was so lauded, I couldn’t trust anyone on him anymore. Eventually, after a few weeks of dawdling, I buckled down and sat down determined to give North by Northwest a fair shot. And once again the movie entranced me with its incredibly cool title sequence and amazing theme song, again by Herrmann. I was so pumped up to see the movie by the end of it that I nearly missed poor Mr. Hitchcock being denied his bus. {:3

North by Northwest is about an ad exec (Cary Grant) who, while out minding his own business, gets kidnapped by some thugs. Apparently he’s been confused with some sort of spy, and his captors assume all his attempts at denying this are part of his game. After a failed attempt at killing him (but ruining his reputation), Grant is put on the run trying to clear his name from being implicated in an assassination of a U.N. worker. While slipping aboard a train, he meets the lovely Eva Marie Saint, whom he immediately charms into bed helping him slip by police and track down the actual spy he’s supposedly being confused with. His enemies are hot on his tail, however, and he must outmaneuver their attempts at killing him before he can uncover the truth.

Holy fuck, if ever there was an opposite to the banality of Vertigo, it’s this. The premise simultaneously sends up Cold War espionage flicks while at the same time one-upping them in terms of twists and set pieces. Grant is an inimitable leading man, and his generous charisma oozes off of the screen at all times. It makes total sense that Eva Marie Saint is in the palm of his hand (or is it vice-versa?) within minutes of meeting each other. Or it might just have to do with the fact that the movie is packed with crackling, pithy dialogue that no real person is ever witty enough to think up or well-timed enough to deliver. I also found a certain satisfaction in seeing Grant blunder his way out of sticky situations, especially since basically everything he thought of was something I would also resort to doing if I were in the same circumstance. (Great minds think alike!)

The action set pieces are also brilliant. The really famous sequence, the crop duster attack, works even if it’s been spoiled for you. Hell, ESPECIALLY if you know it’s coming. The movie plops Grant in the middle of barren corn fields with no one around for miles, waiting for a contact that the viewer knows will never arrive. Cars whiz by until another man walks up. Grant strikes up a conversation, hoping it’s the guy he’s waiting for, but it isn’t. They talk innocuously until the man notes that it’s odd that there’s a crop duster in the background… considering there’s no crops to dust. The man goes on his way and Grant continues standing there like a fool. The crop duster starts flying towards him and it isn’t until it’s nearly upon him that he realizes, “Fuck, it’s trying to kill me” and flings himself to the ground to try to save his life. MMMMFFF, that’s good. I can’t even do it proper justice in words. Same goes for the thrilling climax at Mt. Rushmore.

The cinematography deserves special mention. I wish I’d taken screenshots before returning it because there’s some really striking shots in this movie. There seemed to be a sort of modern art feel that Hitchcock was going for, and there are a few instances where he transforms the shots themselves into pieces of art that the characters run around in.

Of course Cary Grant is superb in this movie and Eva Marie Saint is both beautiful and talented in her role, unlike Kim Novak in Vertigo. Their pairing makes total sense and the screen lights up with the sparks that fly when they’re together. Also deserving of kudos are James Mason and a shockingly youthful Martin Landau as the villains. Seriously, I just could not get over how young he looked. There are certain actors you are just always used to seeing as haggard, melting old men. Like Maggie Gyllenhaal.

The worst thing I could say about this movie is that it seemed to have some sort of allergic reaction to filming on location. They’ll be filming in a train station or whatever and then the camera will cut and we’ll see the actors walking in front of one of those screens they used in old movies for driving scenes. They do this multiple times whenever there’s an outdoor shot in the movie and it slightly cheapens the production. There’s also the personal pet peeve of filming scenes during the day and trying to make it look like night. Like, I get really annoyed when movies have things “movie dark” instead of how things would actually look in reality if things were dark. The next time you watch a movie, you’ll notice it when they cheat and make things incredibly light so the viewer can see things.

Also I think Hitchcock was allergic to falling action or something. Both movies end, like, mere seconds after the climax. It’s just “LOL THE MOVIE’S OVER GO HOME NOW.” Let a brotha down more gently, Hitchcock.

I really don’t think I could have two more opposite reactions to movies. Especially when these movies were produced only a year apart. Vertigo would have been more honestly titled Narcolepsy for how drowsy it made me. On the other hand, North by Northwest was purely invigorating. In all honesty, though, I must say that even though I disliked Vertigo, it certainly did stay in my mind after I saw it, albeit against my wishes. It leaves an impression, even if it’s not a particularly fond one. Any Hitchcock buffs out there want to enlighten me on what I was supposed to take away from Vertigo? Or how North by Northwest is populist trash that pales in comparison to Vertigo’s perfection? Leave me a message at the top of the stairs.

NCTA Technical Papers were not the only thing happening in 1959. Alaska and Hawaii were made states, Mowtown Records was founded in Detroit, Barbie Doll was introduced and Twighlight Zone premiered.

I, for one wasn’t born yet, but NCTA Technical Papers‘ first edition came out.  At The Cable Show ‘09, we will be celebrating the 50th Anniversary Edition of the NCTA Technical Papers.  We will are also holding our Call For Papers right now, so submit a paper for review and you might just become a part of history as well. For the 2009 - 50th Edition, we are looking for papers on the following topics:

• Wireless broadband data and voice architectures and protocols, including WiFi, WiMax and Mobile/Handheld.
• Interactive advertising, including measurement, reporting and addressability.
• Techniques for scaling cable network bandwidth utilization and efficiency.
• Advancements in managing bandwidth in cable broadband networks.
• Digital audio and video coding, conversion and processing.
• Advanced optical platforms and solutions specific to services delivery in cable networks.
• System-on-chip and other integrated silicon solutions applicable to delivery of services through cable systems.
• Business and operational support systems.
• Other advanced broadband technology topics related to next generation cable network architecture.

Papers must be submitted by November 14, 2008.  Answer the Call Today!

So what were you doing in 1959? Share your thoughts on the 50 years of NCTA Technical Papers in the comments and if you have any other topic ideas go ahead and share them too.

Hablemos un poco del género Jazz. Iniciemos con una pieza familiar, bien conocida por el público: Take Five.

Compuesta por el saxofonista Paul Desmond, sería interpretada en 1959 por The Dave Brubeck Quartet (formó parte del disco Time Out), convirtiéndose en un éxito entre el público en general (quiero decir, no solo entre los aficionados al Jazz, como ha ocurrido con otras piezas excelentes) en una época en que el Rock & Roll saturaba las listas de popularidad. Curiosamente –y quizás por esta misma “saturación de Rock”-, sería hasta 1961 cuando pudo verse a Take Five entre las 100 mejores canciones de la revista Billboard en Estados Unidos.

El solo del baterista Joe Morello, la magistral interpretación de Paul Desmond en el saxofón y, en general, su sonido “pegajoso” (es el único término que se me ocurre) que provoca que le escuchemos mentalmente una y otra vez, son algunos de los detalles que hacen tan especial a Take Five, y un verdadero deleite para el oído…

El video que coloqué en las primeras líneas contiene la versión de estudio de Take Five, la misma que puede escucharse en el disco Time Out. Ahora les ofrezco otro, el cual corresponde a una interpretación en vivo de 1961, en el programa de televisión Jazz Casual.

Fuentes/Referencias: http://dave-brubeck.com/ ; http://www.puredesmond.ca/ ; http://www.tomajazz.com ; http://lastfm.es ; http://en.wikipedia.org

Nada é mais salutar para quem quer se informar sobre cinema que visitar os clássicos e, certamente entre eles, Billy Wilder e suas obras é obrigatório. Sou fã confesso do cinema irônico, fino, inteligente, provocador e estimulante criado por esse polonês naturalizado norte-americano. De suas mãos de artesão cinematográfico saíram alguns dos melhores filmes de todos os tempos, como “O pecado mora ao lado”, “Testemunha de Acusação”, “Inferno 17”, “Crepúsculo dos Deuses”, “Sabrina”, “Irma La Douce” e, é claro, “Quanto mais quente melhor”, apontado por muitos especialistas como a melhor comédia de todos os tempos.

Se não fosse suficiente o talento de Wilder, nesse filme ele ainda teve como protagonista o saudoso e incrível ator Jack Lemmon, acompanhado da bela e exuberante Marylin Monroe [a sex symbol em seu melhor papel no cinema] e do também consagrado Tony Curtiss [pai de Jamie Lee Curtiss, conhecida pela série Halloween, por True Lies e tantos outros filmes].

Quanto mais quente melhor se passa nos anos da lei seca, quando os gangsters de Chicago e de outras partes dos Estados Unidos contrabandeavam bebidas alcoólicas para saciar a sede dos consumidores desesperados pelo produto. Jerry [Lemmon] e Joe [Curtiss] são dois músicos da noite, que apesar do talento com seus instrumentos, são péssimos com dinheiro e estão literalmente quebrados. Não conseguem oportunidades de trabalho e, quando surge uma oportunidade… Presenciam um crime praticado por mafiosos…

Conseguem fugir da morte certa, mas como testemunhas, precisam ser liquidados pelos gangsters e, por isso, resolvem seus problemas se juntando a uma trupe de artistas contratada para dar espetáculos na Flórida. O problema é que esse grupo musical é composto apenas por mulheres e, os malandros têm que se passar por senhoritas para se juntar ao grupo…

Lá eles conhecem Sugar [Marylin] e Joe [Curtiss] fica caidinho por ela. O amigo Jerry [Lemmon] também arrasta uma asa por ela, mas acaba se contentando em buscar outra paixão que o divirta. Enquanto rolam esses pequenos romances, os mafiosos continuam atrás da dupla e os obrigam a assumir por longo período suas identidades femininas, Josephine [Curtiss] e Daphne [Lemmon]. Adicione todos esses elementos com o jeito meio ingênuo e provocante de Marylin e temos um clássico fenomenal e hilário. Um dos maiores, certamente! Imperdível! Cinema de Primeiríssima!

Por João Luís de Almeida Machado

A sexy, bawdy film heaving with envelope-pushing gags and ludicrous humour, 1959’s classic Some Like It Hot is one of the best comedies of all time. This Billy Wilder film packs outrageous humour, satire, and ingenuity into its tight package, drawing the best Marilyn Monroe performance of all time and engaging its two comic leads with overzealous naughtiness.

Wilder adapted the story for Some Like It Hot with I.A.L. Diamond, using a story from Robert Thoeren and Michael Logan. Logan had written the story, minus the gangster stuff, for a German film called Fanfaren der Liebe, which came out in 1951. Seen by some as a remake of the German movie, Wilder’s film took the storyline, added the gangsters and a bit of dark humour, and one smouldering female lead.

Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis star as two jazz musicians who are down on their luck (aren’t we all?). The Prohibition is in full swing and several speakeasies are located throughout town, allowing Joe (Curtis) and Jerry (Lemmon) to get some part-time employment. After witnessing a shooting from local area gangsters, Joe and Jerry must go on the run. Scampering for an out-of-town gig, the pair agrees to disguise themselves as women so as to get in on an all-girl band heading to Florida.

Now Josephine (Curtis) and Daphne (Lemmon), the two newly-made women head off to Florida with the band, fitting in well. Of course, Josephine and Daphne fit in all too well and it isn’t long before Sugar Kane (Monroe) is putting the pair in all sorts of compromising positions. Eager to get the girl’s affection, Joe disguises himself as a well-heeled millionaire with a Cary Grant voice, hoping to entice Sugar. Adding to the fiddly situation, a bona fide wealthy millionaire falls for Daphne. The tale of mistaken identity, disguises, and saucy hilarity unfolds at an open-handed lick and reaches a fever pitch once the gangsters reach Florida.

Billy Wilder truly challenged Hollywood’s system with Some Like It Hot, pushing the limits and imposing his will. The release came at the end of the repressive 50s, gathering traction during a time when the studios were abating and television was threatening to change the game forever. Of course, the ever-increasing impotence of the Code and censorship made for an attractive prospect and, needless to say, Wilder plunged into the piece. It was a gamble, but the result was one of the funniest comedies ever.

The sexual innuendo was on full blast. The entire character of Sugar Kane is built around sex, with the character’s route of selecting a mate entirely based on superficiality. Monroe’s Kane is a girl looking for love in all the wrong places, hoping to land it rich with some glossy bespectacled gentleman. Her bent to go a bit too far on a first date is no secret, nor is her propensity to wind up with the “wrong end of the lollipop,” so to speak. Monroe is enthralling, alluring, and out-and-out sexy as Kane.

And Christ, who can forget that yacht scene?

Curtis and Lemmon are marvellous as well, each putting in truly amusing performances. The vigour of their “transformation” is not explored in much detail, except to say that the two of them make pretty lousy women. But that’s the point of the piece. Throbbing with countless engorged sexual innuendos and spilling over with merry exuberance is really what the movie is about, after all. And Lemmon and Curtis embodied the unruly will of the film with fluency and method, injecting raw humour at all the right moments and walking the fine line between mimicry and, yes, a “whole different sex” in their transformation.

The music is well worth a mention, of course. Monroe’s ability to steal across a stage or simply just sit there is astonishing, as she breathes through “I Wanna Be Loved By You” in one of the sexiest scenes in film history. With such blatant sexuality on display, the scene plays with the lights like a striptease with clothes on. The unimpeachable “I’m Through With Love” is a winner, too.

Wilder’s Some Like It Hot is a Hollywood classic for a reason.

With Marilyn Monroe poured into sly dress after sly dress and the tandem of Curtis and Lemmon bumbling around her, this comedy is one of the true treasures of film comedy. It is about nothing but sex, sex, sex, and more sex, but it pretends to be everything but. The oddball plot, the basic needs of the characters, the absolute beauty of Monroe, and the classic comedy stylings of Curtis and Lemmon add up to one of the greatest comedies of all time. If you haven’t yet experienced Some Like It Hot, “nobody’s perfect.”

10/10

Trailer:

Once again, I find my mind confused and unsettled. It’s a condition that seems to occur almost every Sunday morning. A couple of cups of strong coffee and the Sunday New York Times Book Review Section leave my head, even more than normally, disturbed and aswim with undigested ideas. 

A Daniel Gates review of Philip Roth’s latest novel, “Indignation,” tempered my instinctive lack of empathy for Roth’s obsession with sex and of late with his consciousness of his own ever more imminent demise. As a Roth contemporary I feel like saying, “for Christ’s sake, Phil, get a grip,” an entirely inappropriate response. I remember being much taken in 1959 with his early short story, “Defender Of the Faith,” and over the intervening years I’ve chided myself for not paying more attention to someone who can write that well.  After an abortive attempt at “Portnoy’s Complaint,” I began shying away from Roth. I know enough to chalk that up to my own biases and not to any lack of talent, or more likely, genius on his part. I will pick up a copy of “Indignation.” Old Phil deserves another chance. 

In the same issue of the Book Review, A. O. Scott executed a masterful essay/review of Marilynne Robinson’s new novel “Home,” a companion to her “Gilead,” a book that left its mark on me. I had gone almost immediately from Gilead to her prior “Housekeeping,” an equally haunted and haunting work. No surprise that I went on into the whole W. G.  Sebald catalog. I’ve come to realize that while I do get it, whatever the “it” is, as explained to me by the reviewers and the critics, it’s been the experience of the reading itself that has stayed with me, rather than any conscious memory of the specific content in either Robinson’s or Sebald’s works. What I recall most is the pure pleasure, actually more the sad enchantment, of being guided through elusively complex interior realities, a subjectivity bounded by and infused into the objective history of the stories’ settings. Both writers, in very different ways, seem to deliver a rewarding sense of an understanding on some inexplicable and inexpressible level. No clarifications, no sort of instructive simplifications are revealed. What emerges is akin to Barbara Tuchman’s “Distant Mirror, a heightened sense of the infinitely unknowable complexity and continuity of human existence. 

And finally in today’s edition, the engaging and always entertaining Christopher Hitchens returned gingerly to the latest Left-wing fratricides, this time in a review of Bernard-Henri Levy’s “Left In Dark Times.” Having grown up on Orwell, Koestler and Malraux and having just finished Tony Judt’s terrific essay collection, “Reappraisals,” I figure my ticket’s been punched and I can take a pass on this one. 

Time to unplug the fevered, overwrought and inadequate machinery inside my head and go out into this beautiful day and do something productive, like blowing leaves.

September 29, 2008

A correction: In regard to above posting - I just finished reading Philip Roth’s “Indignation.” It is wonderful. In terms of his ability to write, Roth is the real thing, an American Master. He’s written twenty-eight books. The acclaim, I felt suspect, is in no way unwarranted. Were I to write one such book, I would consider my creative existence vindicated. Now in good conscience, I am obligated, and looking forward, to going back and reading as much of his stuff as I can lay hands on.