I am off to Italy in a few days. I have not prepared anything though. I think I'm just gonna grab some of my summer dresses, my journal, my mac and my camera and...just go. We don't have a place to stay in Florence, only a ticket, we do have a place to stay in Rome, but still not a ticket. I am sure we are gonna have the best of time in Italy this summer.

My love for Bertolucci's Stealing Beauty, set in Italy, goes way back. Stealing Beauty has everything. The sweet excitement. Sorrow. Love. Art. Great characters. Great script. Colors. Amazing interior and exterior. The movie glows art in every way. I was fifteen when I watched it for the first time and I remember there was something familiar about Lucy that struck me. The way she acts among the others, the way she explores everything in silence, the way she sits in the window writing poems in the candlelight, the way she keeps her journal, the way her hair is - long and dark, the way she searches for a deeper meaning in her life...it all reminds me of myself in my teenage years and especially the summers I spent in Turkey.

Some place in the movie Lucy asks:

"What about falling in love?".

Guillaume passing by says something in French, very passionately, and Niccolo, very hot and totally stoned, translates:

"There is no love, there is only proof of love." Also a quote by Jean Cocteau.

I am going to get my dreams unstuck in Italy this summer.

Il bravo scrittore batte sempre sullo stesso punto, con martelli di materia e misura differenti. Il suono cambia. Sta attento al chiodo. Lo stesso martello finirebbe per schiacciare la testa del chiodo, non conficcherebbe più niente, e farebbe un rumore di legno secco. È il rumore dei nostri grandi uomini. Ma attenzione! Chi disorienta offende. Il pubblico non se l’aspettava quel che il vero poeta gli offre. È deluso. Trova che non mantiene le sue promesse.

Che vi ho promesso? Sappiate che un buon libro non dà mai ciò che ci si può aspettare. Non può essere una risposta alla vostra aspettativa. Vi deve drizzare dei punti interrogativi.

[Jean Cocteau, Il richiamo all’ordine]

***

[Jean Cocteau, Le sang d’un poète]

"Vi rivelo il segreto dei segreti: gli specchi sono le porte attraverso le quali la morte viene e va. Del resto, guardatevi tutta la vita in uno specchio e vedrete la morte lavorare come api in un alveare di vetro".

I've just finished an excellent book called Bohemians: The Birth Of Modern Art : Paris 1900-1930  by French writer, Dan Franck. It chronicles life in and around the Montmartre district of Paris in the early part of the 20th century, when it was home to a loose group of artists, poets, writers and political radicals. It's a beautifully written book, full of colour and the detail of everyday life. The characters depicted are a complete joy, their lives at times haphazard but always idealistic. In more cynical times it's refreshing to read about creative people who still believed they could change the way the wider society looked at the world.

As well as the likes of Andre Breton, Apollinaire, and the dominant presence of Picasso, there are a whole host of more minor players on the Montmartre scene, which taken together gives the reader a real sense of a living, bustling community. In turn that helps you understand the arena within which the greats were operating.

Take for instance Arthur Cravan, who claimed (with little real evidence) to be Oscar Wilde's nephew on his mother's side. After wandering around the world and undertaking a variety of occupations which included being a sailor, an orange-picker, a serpent charmer, a hotel porter, a woodcutter, a boxing champion, a driver and a thief he founded the arts magazine Maintenant. Any notions of objective creative criticism went firmly out of the window, instead he used it as a vehicle to slag off anyone who wasn't his claimed uncle, Oscar Wilde.

He did so in colourful terms. Of Andre Gide he said : 'There is nothing remarkable about his bone structure; his hands are those of a lazy man...In addition, the artist's face is sickly; towards his temples, little leaves of skin detach themselves, similar to dandruff or a little bigger; as one would say vulgarly, 'he's peeling.'

Of Suzanne Valadon he said : 'She does know some useful little formulas, but simplifying and being simplistic are not the same thing, old cow !'

And he inflamed the temper of Apollinaire when he spoke of his lover  Marie Laurencin as 'a woman who needs to have someone lift her skirt and give her a big - somewhere.'

Intermediaries were called in to negotiate in the dispute, and eventually Cravan clarified his opinion of Laurencin as follows :

'There's a woman who needs to have someone lift her skirt and giver her a big astronomy lesson in her Variety Show'

It doesn't record what Apollinaire thought of that. This is the way people should discuss stuff on Newsnight Late Review.

Degas was probably not someone to invite around to dinner. Upon receiving an invitation from his dealer, Vollard he accepted after making a few stipulations. There could be no butter in the cooking, no flowers on the table, only a thin mist of light could be visible, the cat had to be locked up, there must be no dog, the women were not to wear perfume, and dinner had to be served at precisely seven thirty. Vollard himself was famed for falling asleep at the drop of a hat.  Posing for portraits he would regularly nod off, and was known to slip into slumber between courses at the dinner table.

Bohemians is full of those kind of little details of a world, and a way of being an artist that is unlikely to ever return. It also gives you an insight into some of the artistic movements of the time and the groundbreaking work done by people who favoured poverty, integrity and ideas over fame and fortune.

"One of the most renowned female icons of the 20th century, Lee Miller was a unique individual admired as much for her free-spirit, creativity and intelligence as for her timeless looks. A classic beauty both in front of and behind the camera, her extraordinary career as a photographer and her transformation from artist's muse to ground-breaking photographer began in Paris in 1929 when she met the expatriate American photographer and Surrealist artist, Man Ray. She became both his lover and inspiration and encouraged by his work, stared to develop her own images. Born in 1907, she lived many lives before her death from cancer in a Sussex farmhouse in 1976. She had been involved with many of the periods major artist, including Jean Cocteau, thanks in considerable part to her personal beauty, her mazing professional accomplishments and her free-wheeling style. In a sense, Lee Miller summed up the brilliant and troubled times in which she lived, even as she foreshadowed the liberated woman of a later generation. At the age of seven, Lee had been raped and infected by a young friend of the family. The psychiatrist called in by her desperate parents persuaded Lee that sex and love were unrelated. How much this official trivialisation of sex coloured her late behaviour is impossible to say, but Miller would enter into numerous liaisons, most of them brief, with men she met on her incessant travels. Even after she had left, her former lovers seemed unable to forget her beauty, her vitality, humour and tireless curiousity. By 1928 Lee had migrated to Paris and become a favourite model of Jean Patou, Elsa Schiaparelli, and Lucien Lelong. It was here that met Man Ray, who introduced her to other members of the cultural elite such as Pablo Picasso, the Surrealist poet Paul Eluard and his wife Nusch, Cocteau's favourite costume and set designer Christian Bérard and Boris Kochno assistant and secretary to Serge de Diaghilev. She became a war photographer for London Vogue and was the only woman in combat photojournalism in Europe. After the war she returned in fashion photography and portraiture, photographing key figures of the day including Pablo Picasso, Man Ray, Joan Miró... The Victoria and Albert Museum will celebrate the centenary of her birth by hosting The Art of Lee Miller. Never before has she appeared such a consummate artist, such a multifaceted individual nor have the grounds for her stellar reputation been so incontrovertibly established."

By Stella Matthew
Style Monte Carlo #28

Había nacido el 12 de enero de 1908. Licenciado en Filosofía, comenzó en el cine como actor de reparto, y posteriormente como montador.

Debutó como director en 1934 con “París-Deaville”.

“Pontcarral, coronel del imperio”, rodada en 1942, fue un solapado llamamiento a la resistencia, en contra de la ocupación nazi en Francia”.

Colaboró en 1943 con Jean Cocteau en “El eterno retorno”, basada en la historia de “Tristán e Isolda”.

Su película más reconocida, “La sinfonía pastoral”, la rodó en 1946. En este film, basado en la obra de André Gide, reflejaba con acierto la hipocresía y la capacidad de autoengaño de los seres humanos, que era la esencia de la novela. Ganó con ella la Palma de Oro del Festival del Cannes de aquel año.

En 1947, en otra colaboración con Jean-Paul Sartre, dirigió “Les jeux son faits”.

Uno de sus títulos más famosos a nivel internacional, fue “Notre Dame de París" (1956), con Anthony Quinn, como jorobado y Gina Lollobrigida, como Esmeralda la cíngara, en una adaptación de la obra de Victor Hugo.

Su cine se movió entre dos constantes. Sus adaptaciones a la literatura, y los temas religiosos. Llevó a la pantalla, entre otras, dos novelas de George Simenón: “El comisario Maigret” (1958) y “Maigret en el caso de la condesa” (1959). Jean Gabin fue el encargado de dar vida al comisario en las dos películas. En el capítulo de cine religioso, dirigió “Bernadette” (1988) y “La pasión de Bernadette” (1989). María de Nazaret (1995), fue su último film. Lo rodó a la avanzada edad de 87 años.

Meticuloso en sus adaptaciones literarias, fue activamente denostado por directores como François Truffaut, Claude Chabrol y Jean-Luc Godard, que lo acusaban de academicista, alejado de lo que ellos representaban: el cine de autor.

Denostado o no, Delannoy siempre fue un artesano del cine, y cualquiera de sus films merecen ser vistos.

Murió el pasado miércoles en su domicilio de Guainville, situado al noroeste de Francia.

D.E.P.

Para ver su filmografía completa, pinchad aquí

Swanson  

O cineasta francês Jean Delannoy, autor de filmes realizados com artistas e intelectuais como Jean Cocteau, Anthony Quinn, Erich Von Stroheim e Jean-Paul Sartre, morreu nesta quarta-feira [19.06.2008] aos 100 anos de idade.

Os parentes do cineasta informaram que o artista morreu ontem à noite em casa, situada na localidade de Guainville, no noroeste da França.

(...) Roteirista, adaptador e diretor de cerca de 30 filmes, Delannoy inspirou seu famoso filme "A Sinfonia Pastoral" no romance de André Gide. Esse filme valeu ao cineasta o Grande Prêmio do Festival de Cannes em 1946.

"O Corcunda de Notre-Dame", protagonizado por Anthony Quinn e Gina Lollobrigida, foi outro grande sucesso do cineasta. O grande triunfo data de 1943, "Além da Vida", um dos raros sucessos franceses sob a ocupação alemã, com roteiro de Jean Cocteau.

Nascido em 12 de janeiro de 1908, em Noisy-le-Sec, ao norte de Paris, o cineasta era irmão da atriz de cinema mudo Henriette Delannoy. (...)

Leia a matéria completa clicando aqui.

Trabajando para el Cabaret nos dimos cuenta de lo poco que se conoce la obra poética de Jean Cocteau, y en la misma medida, cuán escasa es la existencia de publicaciones en español de su poesía. En ninguna biblioteca pública fue posible hallar sus libros, así que recurrimos a los anaqueles privados (la traducción de Tentative D'Évasion para el Cabaret la hizo Françoise Adouin).

Así las cosas, del libro Jean Cocteau, Poemas, propiedad de Heidi Abderhalden, editado en México por Letras Vivas y con Ahmed el-Boab como traductor de hermoso nombre, reproduzco aquí algunos poemas, empezando por el que inspiró la canción homónima, que dice así:

FRUTO

Un farolillo dominical,
madurado por el viento
puede incendiar las ramas;
hay que cogerlo antes.

FRUIT

Un lampion du dimanche,
S'il est mûri pqr le vent;
Peut mettre le feu qux branches.
Il faut le cueillir avant.

-------

PIEZA DE CIRCUNSTANCIA

Graba tu nombre en un árbol
que se extienda hasta el nadir.
el árbol es mejor que el mármol.
pues en él los nombres crecen.

PIÈCE DE CIRCONSTANCE

Gravez votre nom dans un arbre
Qui poussera jusqu'au nadir.
Un arbre vaut mieux que le marbre,
Car on y voit les noms grandir.

-------

LOS DULCES OJOS

Tristeza, abono de mis dichas. Nos limita,
esta reja, salida de todos los tinteros,
Napoleón, apicultor, guantes de armiño
el día de la coronación, cubierto de laureles
y sandalias de nácar.

Cisne moribundo, cuyo grito es dulce,
vierte negra sangre para escribir estas líneas.

LES YEUX DOUX

Tristesse, engrais de mes bonheurs. Il nous termine
Ce grillage, partout sorti der encriers.
Napoleón, apiculteur aux gants d'hermine
Le jour du sacre, avec un bonnet de lauriers
Et des pantoufles de nacre.

Cygne mourant, si doux à entendre crier,
Fais le sang noir en quoi sont écrites ces lignes.

-------

EL POETA DE TREINTA AÑOS

Heme aquí pues a la mitad de mi vida
cabalgo sobre mi hermosa casa;
a los dos lados veo el mismo paisaje,
pero sin vestirse con la misma estación.

Aquí está la roja tierra de viña encornada
como un joven corzo. La lencería colgada,
con risas y señales, recibe el nuevo día;
allá viene el invierno y el honor que se me debe.

De acuerdo, dices quererme todavía,
Venus. Si no hubiera hablado de ti, no obstante,
si mi casa no estuviese hecha con mis poemas,
sentiría el vacío y me caería del techo.

LE POÈTE DE TRENTE ANS

Me voici maintenant au milieu de mon âge,
Je me tiens à cheval sur ma belle maison;
Des deux còtés je vois le même paysage,
Mais il n'est pas vêtu de la même saison.

Ici la terre rouge est de vigne encornée
Comme un jeune chevreuil. Le ligne suspendu,
De rires, de signaux, accueille la journée;
Là se montre l'hiver et l'honneur qui m'est dû.

Je veux bien, tu me dis encore que tu m'aimes,
Vénus. Si je n'avais pourtant parlé de toi,
Si ma maison n'était faite avec mes poèmes,
Je sentirais le vide et tomberais du toit.

Translated by Rosamond Lehman (1955)

Number of Pages: 183

With original illustrations by Jean Cocteau

Synopsis (from back cover): Miss Lehman was able to capture the essence of Cocteau's strange, necromantic imagination and to bring fully to life in English his story of a brother and sister, orphaned in adolescence, who built themselves a private world out of one shared room and their own unbridled fantasies. What started in games and laughter became for Paul and Elisabeth a drug too magical to resist. The crime which finally destroyed them has the inevitability of Greek tragedy.

Review: Having never even read Jean Cocteau's poetry, I was completely unprepared for this disturbing story. It starts out innocently enough, with a childhood snowball fight, but the reader is soon enveloped in the fantasy world created by Paul and his sister Elisabeth. But as they grow older, and their competing magnetic personalities enslave their friends, they find themselves almost completely removed from reality and heading toward disaster. Paul and Elisabeth and neither likable or unlikable...they seem to be completely above our likes and dislikes.

This book is a fairly quick and easy read, but it's still rich in its language and with unforgettable characters. It should also appeal to a wide range of readers. Anyone who enjoys French literature, psychological drama, Shakespearean tragedies, or fantasy fiction will really enjoy this book.

Rating: 9/10

Reviewed by Sarah

Translated by Rosamond Lehman (1955)

Number of Pages: 183

With original illustrations by Jean Cocteau

Synopsis (from back cover): Miss Lehman was able to capture the essence of Cocteau's strange, necromantic imagination and to bring fully to life in English his story of a brother and sister, orphaned in adolescence, who built themselves a private world out of one shared room and their own unbridled fantasies. What started in games and laughter became for Paul and Elisabeth a drug too magical to resist. The crime which finally destroyed them has the inevitability of Greek tragedy.

Review: Having never even read Jean Cocteau's poetry, I was completely unprepared for this disturbing story. It starts out innocently enough, with a childhood snowball fight, but the reader is soon enveloped in the fantasy world created by Paul and his sister Elisabeth. But as they grow older, and their competing magnetic personalities enslave their friends, they find themselves almost completely removed from reality and heading toward disaster. Paul and Elisabeth and neither likable or unlikable...they seem to be completely above our likes and dislikes.

This book is a fairly quick and easy read, but it's still rich in its language and with unforgettable characters. It should also appeal to a wide range of readers. Anyone who enjoys French literature, psychological drama, Shakespearean tragedies, or fantasy fiction will really enjoy this book.

Rating: 9/10

This year's New York Asian Film Festival offers an impeccable feast of critical hits and audience favorites from the Pacific coast. Runs: June 20th - July 13th

First up is a Japanese version of Meet Joe Black, with a similarly handsome lead (Takeshi!), but without the tedious pacing and the inconclusive dribble. Called Sweet Rain: The Accuracy of Death, it's separated into three acts, with each story exploring the relationship between the Reaper and his victims/patients. The embodiment of death being played by a gorgeous male actor demands that we take for granted a family-friendly equation between le petit mort and orgasm. With all the queasy S&M parts thrown out, it's hard not running towards the light at the end of the tunnel when Brad Pitt is there waiting for you. It reminds me of why Orpheus fell in love with Death and gave up on Eurydice, thanks Cocteau for the twisted romanticism.

The other film playing at the New York Asian Film Festival is Johnnie To's Sparrow, a G-rated ode to Hong Kong through the gauze of French New Wave-ness with pickpockets and con artists combing the streets. To's retrospective at the PFA will be the subject of a later retroactive post.

-------------------------------------------------

Since I don't really live in the area, I mind as well gush about other retrospectives I would not hesitate auctioning my soul for. Film Forum is importing the iconic Japanese actor (other than Toshiro Mifuni), Tatsuya Nakadai, for a limited run of his filmography, June 20 - August 7. And he's still alive, and doing a Q&A.

If anybody ask me for a list of my favorite actors, Tatsuya would be near the top. It was When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (Naruse, 1960) that introduced me to this boyish face, which lacks the delicate curves of Sessue Hayakawa and the jagged features of Mifune, defined solely by an almost perfect square and enhanced by the awkward contortions of his brows and lips. I wanted Mama-san to end up with her shy manager (played by Nakadai) and not with the businessman who would later abandon her. Why does this always happened to comfort women with the hearts of gold?

Even on the onset of his prolific career, a protean resilience separated him from his peers, as he donned and discarded one mask after another, somehow symptomatic of the 60s, a period where conventional Japanese masculinity had undergone a shift of confounding uncertainty. Was he supposed to be a hyper aggressive cipher of evil (Sword of Doom), a sacrificial martyr for institutional critique (Harakiri), or just an everyman getting extensive plastic surgery (Face of Another)?

Terrence Rafferty of the NY Times best sums up the strange appeal of Mr. Nakadai.

Whether Mr. Nakadai is portraying a man who is delighted by the life before his eyes or appalled by it, he never looks blasé, uninterested: he seems to exist in a state of constant surprise.

By 1985, when Kurosawa's Ran saturated the radar screen, everyone had forgotten that adolescent face behind the theatrical madness of Lord Hidetora, another mask among a series of others.

My personal pick: The Age of Assassins (Kihachi Okamoto, 1967), a wacky espionage romp starring Nakadai as the quintessential Hitchcockian "wrong man" on the run.

I will give a disclaimer that may seem obvious to some and outrageous to the rest: we all have (thankfully) very different and (hopefully) active moral sensibilities, especially when it comes to media. This is healthy and a very good thing, in my opinion. However, this also means that if you read this list thinking that, because I consider myself a devout Latter-day Saint, you will not be offended by movies on my lists, you may be mistaken, just as I might be offended by movies on your lists. For example, I wrote in my last post here that many Disney movies and the messages they purport are offensive to me, and I'd never allow a great deal of them in my home.

I'll give a short example. One of the most devout films I know of (American or not) is Robert Benton's Places in the Heart. It speaks of a Christianity so purely visually that it is an example of the pinnacle of what the medium can accomplish if only placed in the hands of a devoutly gifted artisan. The film doesn't flaunt Christianity, it rather cannot escape it. It is built into every shot and every situation. And its PG rating reminds us that parents should watch it with their children (it is a film that will lead to very powerful and needed questions from 6-year-olds and teenagers alike). Yet when it was shown several years ago for the example of 'Transcendence in Cinema' in BYU's Intro to Film class, one person complained and called it vulgar and wrote several angry letters about it to the president of the university. There may be no other mainstream film (though you may not have heard of it — it stars Sally Field, among several others) more innocuous (even Ben Hur is described as homo-erotic) or more powerful to have ever shown Christianity. Yet this person called it vulgar. Why? Because Sally Field's shoulders were showing while bathing in the film.

Now the first reaction is to judge or criticize. I hope we avoid that. This person's mode for expressing their disapproval should be criticized and not their sentiment. Could Sally Field be considered immodest in this scene? I wouldn't want myself or my wife to be in a scene this way, so I can't criticize this person, though I strongly disagree with them. I just want to make it clear that I am not taking responsibility for you feeling 'safe' with these movies.

Here is the French Language List. (Several of the films are not from France or some are from France but made by directors from other countries.)

Rosetta (1999) — This Palm d'Or winner (the most prestigious award in the world) is unlike anything that you have ever or will ever see in you life. It is a thriller of the highest order but in the grittiest realism I know. The filmmakers, the Dardennes Brothers from Belgium, spent the first 20 years of their career making documentaries. The thing that sets this thriller apart from anything else you're likely to see (ever) has nothing to do with the intensity felt throughout or the (COMPLETE!) lack of music throughout the film or the refusal to demonize any single character or group of people. But what truly sets it apart is instead the fact that the main character's goal is simply to find and keep a job. It is honest, fulfilling work that is praised above all else. It has not only impacted me but also legal officials in Belgium to such an extent that labor laws were actually changed as a direct result of them seeing the film. Can you say that about ANY other work of art? Please email me if you know of any.

The Son (2002) — Following suit with yet another Palm d'Or, the Dardennes Brothers made, in my opinion, an even more moving film that would make any psychologist/moralist/humanist take interest. The topic? Fatherhood — in one of the most unassuming and passionate displays of complex Christianity I know of. Attention lovers of Ayn Rand and Dickens alike. (I'll also say that I spent the evening periodically weeping after my first viewing of this utter masterpiece).

A Man Escaped (1956) — This film is widely regarded as one of the greatest films ever made by one of the greatest filmmakers ever to have lived: Robert Bresson. The story tells of the escape of one man from a WWII prison. The film embodies simplicity, the definition of the modernist credo 'less is more.' Perhaps the easiest introduction to 'transcendentalism' in film is also the most profound illustration of a Catholic orientation toward the body and spirit — and the escape of the latter from the former.

To Be and To Have (2002) —A year spent filming in a French primary school reveals Nicolas Philibert to be by far the most Christian of all living filmmakers. A must-see for anyone interested in education, children, selfless devotion, or kindness, for that matter. The film imposes no emotion whatsoever; instead we are left with the images of the everyday goodness of one man. I'm convinced that no one can leave this film without becoming a better person. All the better to watch it often. Nearly inexhaustible.

The Gleaners and I (2000) — Agnes Varda is most often associated with the directors of the French New Wave and known as one of the world's premiere female directors, yet in the United States she is mainly known as the widow of Jacques Demy and responsible for the restoration of his masterpieces (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and The Young Girls of Rochefort). This film, however, will make you wonder why you haven't heard more about her. It's true that Roger Ebert gave it 4 stars, but it received relatively little press in the States. Shot on hand-held video cameras, the film is a travel log of sorts and a philosophical meditation on gleaning, waste, poverty, and art. Varda's film is filled with the observations of a mature artist in her fifth decade of film production. Yet her genius lies in her honesty about herself and her ability to relate to every one of her subjects, be they homeless, philosophers, lawyers, fanatics, rappers, punks, or psychoanalysts. Anyone concerned with law, poverty, inequity, French culture (or world culture for that matter), metaphysics, or political structure should take note. Perhaps my list is a bit long, but I truly love this film.

Beauty and the Beast (1946) — Visual splendor unlike anything else I know. This film, by poet, artist, as well as filmmaker Jean Cocteau (yes, The Cocteau Twins are named after him), is the truest example of a fairytale.

Time Regained (1999) — This film by Chilean political refugee Raul Ruiz is perhaps the greatest literary adaptation I've yet encountered. I'll admit that I have yet to read Proust's monolithic work, but sources I trust claim this to be the most faithful and artistic adaptation possible. For a large part of his career, Ruiz, whose films were only recently made available in the United States (despite his use of American actors like John Malkovich), averaged something like six films a year — a massive output only possible in France. This is a towering feat of mise-en-scene; not only is the graceful camera movement enchanting, but the set elements (lighting fixtures, furniture pieces, walls) refuse to stay put as well. This is not a fantasy, horror, or any other supernatural-based genre. The space in this (as well as others of Ruiz's films) is simply constantly expanding and contracting. The scene is always swelling and brooding to compliment its high literature foundation.

Caché (2005) — Though this is Micheal Haneke's most commercial release, I consider it to be his finest to date of the features I've seen. His view of the social-class rift seems most fair to me here though still stilted. His characters are most developed and his camera is most disciplined in this film. I've written much more about it on my blog, but it is my favorite commercial/mainstream release of the past several years.

Notre Musique (2004) — Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Colonization of American Indians, Destruction of Culture, Dante's Divine Comedy, Levinas, War, Cinema, Heaven, Beauty. Jean-Luc Godard's film is as coherent as my sentance was: at times it seems to lack action, yet it's wrought with ideas. It is filled with beauty and profundity — but only for the extremely attentive. By far the most difficult film on my list by the world's most difficult director. (This also means, at least at times, the most rewarding, in my mind.) On your first viewing, you probably won't know what the film was about. It may seem like you get next to nothing, but it is a challenge well worth it, and its images will stay with you for a very long time. To view it and reap its fruits, you must either be extremely well versed in cinema or extremely intelligent. I'm closer to the first, so I don't feel too bad about not being the second. But then again, it helps to be both.

The Children of Paradise (1945) — The textbook example of complexity of emotion. Both the literary classicist and passionate illiterate will find something here to fill the soul. Terry Gilliam, of Monty Python as well as the director of films such as Brazil, 12 Monkeys, Tideland, and The Brothers Grimm, has claimed it to be the greatest movie of all time. Its epic nature and delicate intimacy are as astounding today as they were 60 years ago.

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This is from HORROR HOSPITAL.

I can't, somehow, quite love this film. It's maybe too cold and nasty. But I definitely admire it. When you consider how lacklustre and free of imagination most British horror movies always were (I still dig them though), this movie offers a real plethora of tawdry delights. It's made by Anthony Balch, an associate of Kenneth Anger and William Burroughs, and while it's mild fayre compared to the mind-bending squalor found within the pages of The Naked Lunch, there's still much in the way of weirdness and unpleasantries.

I love the anecdote from Hammer scribe Christopher Wicking, quoted on Wikipedia: "I had a crazy meeting with him, when he wanted to do some picture or other. He spent most of the time walking across the furniture. Languorously, he would walk across three or four chairs. He went into another little world. He was a sad figure in a way, because he was well before his time."

After a bizarro softcore sex film, SECRETS OF SEX, Balch launched his assault on the mainstream with HORROR HOSPITAL, in which Robin Askwith, the enthusiastically pumping buttocks in nine billion soft-porn comedies of depressing aspect (he redeems himself with a spirited turn in BRITANNIA HOSPITAL, which is almost a sequel to this one) plays, well, himself, a jobbing young actor, sent by his deeply queer agent (a dissipated Dennis Price, phoning it in via three camera set-ups stretched out to last five minutes of screen-time) to a country house clinic where mutilated nazi Michael Gough is attempting to create a lobotomised sex army for reasons we needn't go into. Seriously, I'm refusing to go into his reasons. Don't push me. I don't want to talk about it.

He also rides the countryside in a swank Roller with DEATH RACE 2000 modifications -- blades shoot out to decapitate stray ramblers. I bet if Rolls Royce manufactured those they'd sell like hot cakes. The limo plus motorcycle outriders (the guys in this clip) are a nod to Cocteau's ORPHEE.

The great scene above comes near the end, where tradition and reason dictate that horror thrillers should accelerate their pace and head for some kind of climax. The generous Mr. Balch offers us an alternative to that trusted formula, paralysing his film for minutes on end while a small man tries to open a door.

Brilliant.

La imagen de la portada, tomada de la película Orfeo, de Jean Cocteau (1950), muestra al mítico Jean Marais reflejado en una lámina de agua. Y a partir de ahí nada fue lo mismo.

Si me tuviera que decidir por un solo disco... Mal asunto. A pesar de que The Queen is dead (1986) fue elegido el mejor disco de pop de la historia (clara demostración de la fidelidad incondicional de los fanáticos del grupo; en el post "Fugit irreparabile tempus" tenéis los datos exactos de la valoración de este disco), probablemente yo me quedaría con su primer LP, bautizado con el nombre del grupo (The Smiths, 1984). Ahí está todo lo que luego llegarían a ser. Un magnífico análisis de las canciones de este disco -en español, además- lo encontraréis pinchando aquí.

Si tuviera que quedarme con una sola canción... elegiría muchas. Por ejemplo, "There is a light that never goes out", de su LP The Queen is dead (1986):

Take me out tonight
where there's music and there's people
who are young and alive
driving in your car
I never never want to go home
because I haven't got one
anymore

Take me out tonight
because I want to see people and I
want to see lights
driving in your car
oh, please don't drop me home
because it's not my home, it's their
home, and I'm welcome no more

And if a double-decker bus
crashes into us
to die by your side
is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
kills the both of us
to die by your side
well, the pleasure and the privilege is mine

Take me out tonight
oh, take me anywhere, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care
and in the darkened underpass
I thought: "Oh God, my chance has come at last"
(but then a strange fear gripped me and I
just couldn't ask)

Take me out tonight
oh, take me anywhere, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care
driving in your car
I never never want to go home
because I haven't got one, da, da, da...
Oh, I haven't got one

And if a double-decker bus
crashes into us
to die by your side
is such a heavenly way to die
and if a ten-ton truck
kills the both of us
to die by your side
well, the pleasure and the privilege is mine

There is a light and it never goes out
There is a light and it never goes out
There is a light and it never goes out 

En español:

Sácame esta noche
a donde haya música y gente
que sea joven y esté viva
conduce tu coche
no quiero volver nunca, nunca, a casa
porque ya no tengo

Sácame esta noche
porque quiero ver gente y
quiero ver luces
conduce tu coche
oh, por favor, no me dejes en casa
porque no es mi casa es su
casa, y ya no soy bienvenido

Y si un autobús de dos pisos
se estrella contra nosotros
morir a tu lado
es una forma maravillosa de morir
Y si un camión de diez toneladas
nos mata a los dos
morir a tu lado
bueno, el placer y el privilegio son míos.

Sácame esta noche
llévame a donde sea, me da igual
y en el oscuro pasadizo
pensé: "Oh, Dios, por fin ha llegado mi oportunidad"
(pero entonces un extraño miedo se apoderó de mí y
no te lo pude pedir)

Sácame esta noche
llévame a donde sea, me da igual
simplemente conduce tu coche
no quiero volver nunca, nunca, a casa
porque no tengo
porque no tengo

Y si un autobús de dos pisos
se estrella contra nosotros
morir a tu lado
es una forma maravillosa de morir
Y si un camión de diez toneladas
nos mata a los dos
morir a tu lado
bueno, el placer y el privilegio son míos.

Hay una luz que nunca se apaga
Hay una luz que nunca se apaga
Hay una luz que nunca se apaga

Quien no haya sentido alguna vez algo así, nunca ha sido joven. El muy imbécil...

The Smihts cantaban en "Rubber ring" (1985): "Don't forget the songs / that made you cry / and the songs that saved your life". He aquí algunas de ellas:

"Reel aroun the fountain" (The Smiths, 1984):

It's time the tale were told
Of how you took a child
And you made him old
[...]
Fifteen minutes with you
Well, I wouldn't say no
[...]
But "Take me to the heaven of your bed"
was something that you never said

"You've got everything now" (The Smiths, 1984):

But I don't want a lover
I just want to be seen
in the back of your car

"Pretty girls make graves" (The Smiths, 1984):

I'm not the man you think I am
I'm not the man you think I am
And Sorrow's native son
He will not rise for anyone

"Hand in glove" (The Smiths, 1984):

I know my luck too well
And I'll probably never see you again

"What difference does it make" (The Smiths, 1984):

All men have secrets and here is mine
So let it be known
For we have been through hell and high tide
I think I can rely on you ...
And yet you start to recoil
Heavy words are so lightly thrown
But still I'd leap in front of a flying bullet for you
[...]
The devil will find work for idle hands to do
I stole and then I lied
Just because you asked me to
But now you know the truth about me
You won't see me anymore

"I don't owe you anything" (The Smiths, 1984):

Life is never kind
Oh, but I know what will make you smile tonight

"Heaven knows I'm miserable now" (1984):

In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die?

"How soon is now?" (1985):

I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does

Y se quedan tantas fuera...  En cualquier caso: Happy birthday, Mr. Morrissey! Y no deje usted nunca de escribir canciones que nos hagan llorar, canciones que salven nuestra vida.

P.S.: El crítico Chris Harvey acaba de publicar en The Daily Telegraph la lista de los cincuenta mejores compositores británicos de canciones de todos los tiempos: 1.- John Lennon. 2.- Kate Bush. 3.- Morrissey / Johnny Marr. Pulsa en el enlace para ver la lista completa (muy discutible, por otra parte, como todas las listas).

"I am big. It's the pictures that got small."
                                                                                             Norma Desmond
                                                                                             Sunset Blvd.

"Film will only become art when its materials are as inexpensive as pencil and paper." 
                                                                                             Jean Cocteau

“The future of filmmaking is changing and mobile-generated art is fast becoming the next medium for film. In five years, I believe we will be watching films in movie theaters that have been shot on a mobile phone."
                                                                                             Spike Lee
                                                                                             (April 2008) 

I stopped laughing years ago.

Back in 1995 I had a friend tell me she was getting married to someone she had met on the Internet. That was uncharted territory back then and fodder for many jokes.

Four years later when the creative team behind The Blair Witch Project stunned Hollywood with the use of their unusual marketing on the Internet it got everyone’s attention.

Now almost ten years later it seems as if the whole world has jumped on the Internet bandwagon. Video for the web is exploding and it’s hard to be surprised by the technological breakthrough of the month.

There is a new cinema coming and for the screenwriter that means new opportunities. So in two parts I’ll attempt to give a sweeping overview of this new world.

In May of 2005, I was on a shoot in Cape Town, South Africa when I read an article about a director in the United States who was making a national commercial with a cell phone. That’s when I thought to myself, “Someday, someone’s going to make a feature film with a cell phone.” In December of 2005 in Johannesburg, South African filmmaker Aryan Kaganof, shot the first dramatic feature film, SMS Sugar Man, entirely with a cell phone. A cell phone.

Kaganof, an accomplished filmmaker, told Ryan Fortune of Johannesburg’s Sunday Times’, “We are re-writing the book on cinema here…things will never be the same…from now onwards, all you’ll need (to make a film) is a good idea, a cellphone, a laptop and you’re off. It opens up a whole world of possibilities....” Fortune commented that the film is a perfect example of leap-frogging meaning a technological leap had occurred much like it had ten years previously with the advent of DV cameras and non-linear editing systems.

But also in 2005, the first feature documentary shot entirely with a cell phone was being shot. Italian directors Marcelo Mencarini and Barbara Seghezzi co-directed the 93-minute film, New Love Meetings. “With the widespread availability of cell phones equipped with cameras, anybody could do this,'’ Mencarini said, “If you want to say something nowadays, thanks to the new media, you can.”

Within a year of the cell phone feature breakthroughs, cell phone film festivals began popping up around the world. For the naysayers out there who question the quality of the equipment or films being made need to view the first copyrighted film, Fred Ott’s Sneeze. It was made in 1894 and features, well, Fred Ott sneezing. Yes, I paid a lot of money in film school to learn that, but you can see it free on You Tube.

In fact, you can see quite a lot on You Tube. Not just silly videos of teenagers lip-syncing pop songs, but there’s a mini film school hidden in there. Classic clips from Charlie Chaplin films, the opening tracking shot in Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil, and the shower scene from Hitchcock’s Psycho are available for you to study.

And you have to admit Judson Laipply’s The Evolution of Dance is original and funny. You have to take notice of a video that gets viewed 10 million times in its first two weeks and a year later as I write this is still the number one all-time viewed video on You Tube with more than 83 million views.

Things have evolved very quickly in digital filmmaking and distribution. I don’t know if there are more people making money in the digital world but there is a heck of lot more content. And that is a start and gives us a taste of what is to come. We know that the Internet is shaking up the industry as more and more people spend time on the Internet and less time watching TV programs and going to movies.

We know that in a few years video stores will probably revert back to the small mom and pop stores that sprang up in the 80's with the demand for video rental. Stores like Blockbuster will have to diversify what they do to survive. I don’t think the need for people renting movies will ever totally go away, they’ll just become more like those funky retro record stores. (Heck, people still collect 8-track tapes.)

One of the good things that may come out of this is the rebirth of the filmmaker as artist. Because of the high costs of making films, filmmakers have always had an uneasy agreement with commerce. Only certain type of films could be made. Ones that could find a large audience. The goal was a high return on investment.

With the rise of the super blockbuster it was once believed that the studios would then make more smaller, less sensational films. That didn’t happen. Once studios got a taste of 100 million dollar box offices then that became the goal for every film. Bruce the shark in Jaws killed more than people.

Over the years I’ve read article after article where actors, directors, writers, and cinematographers lament over not making the kind of films they really want to make. Part of the problem is they too are caught up in the machine. But every once in a while a flower breaks through the concrete and gets made for the joy of it. Because the writer and or director have a vision beyond simply the box office. The real exciting part is when those films make money.

Not all digital films will turn out as well as Sketches of Frank Gehry, but that is part of the process. Remember, before Francis Ford Coppola made The Godfather he cut his teeth on Roger Corman films. Ditto that for Titanic writer/director James Cameron and many other filmmakers. Let’s look back and how far we’ve come in a short time.

I remember in the late 90's when a filmmaker from New York told an audience at the Florida Film Festival, “I am a filmmaker, I make films with film—I’m not interested in video.” Many film festivals didn’t even allow films shot on video. Looking back it reminds me of the days when snow boarding was outlawed at ski resorts in Colorado. (Snow boarding now represents more than half the revenue at some resorts.) Things change. And these days they change rapidly.

When I was in film school in the early 80’s there was a line drawn between the film and video world. The film students looked down on the video and TV students,  just as did film actors looked down on TV work.

As the 80’s progressed both the VHS videotape market and cable TV opened new opportunities for filmmakers and the lines between film and video became blurred. The year 1994 was the year that I gave up being a film snob. That was the year that Hoop Dreams was released.

I didn’t care what it was shot on it was simply a great film—even if it was shot on video.

Film critic Rodger Ebert would later call it the best film of the 1990’s.  Up until that point there had been a lot of dabbling with video in Hollywood. Jerry Lewis was the first to use video assist on a film for his directorial debut The Bellboy. The first feature film shot on video was 200 Motels, co-directed by Frank Zappa in 1971. Coppola explored with video on The Outsiders back in 1982 mostly for a reference point while working with young actors.

This is a good place to end part one of New Cinema Screenwriting. My last post touched on David Lynch shooting Island Empire on DV and swearing not to return to shooting film. Whether that is another one of Lynch's bizarre dreams or in fact reality time will tell. 

"I think there's a slight trend toward embracing new cinema, non-Hollywood blockbuster cinema. It's not erupting, but because of the Internet, I think people have more of a chance to get buzz going on alternative cinema, so I think it's hopeful out there."
                                                                                                  David Lynch 

Granted this is all in the beginning stages which reminds me of an interview I saw last year with the founder of the Geek Squad who said, “What people don’t realize is the internet has not yet started.” Keep in mind that it wasn’t too long ago when Bill Gates dismissed the power and future of the Internet.

There is nothing wrong with having Big Budget Technicolor Hollywood Dreams but keep in mind that today in little towns and villages all over the world there are people experimenting with little digital cameras (even cell phones) and making movies. Writing words and making movies. And tomorrow we're going to be watching some of those films.

It's kind of like the golden age of Hollywood when they cranked out film after film to hungry audiences in a pre-television era. Films were sometimes made start to finish in a couple weeks. That's how some directors directed over 100 films.   Most of those films are forgotten but the ones that survived shine brightly.  

The first John Ford film that most people have heard of and perhaps even seen is Stagecoach which he made in 1939. (Though he did win acclaim for Arrowsmith and The Informer in '31 & '35)  Before he directed Stagecoach Ford had made 94 films in 22 years. (Think about the learning that went into the simple process of making that many films.)  There is a reason that Orson Welles' is reported to have watched Stagecoach 40 times before he directed Citizen Kane.

He was in his 40's when his career got rolling and making the films that we remember him for making. And he directed into his 80's. There are some great older directors and screenwriters out there that the Hollywood system has forgotten even though they have some films still in them. Maybe if they pick up a digital camera they can make their best films yet.

Speaking of 1939, has there ever been a single better year for movies than 1939? 

Maybe this new cinema is a return back to the future. 

"I'm ready for my close-up now, Mr. DeMille."
                                                                                         Norma Desmond
                                                                                         Sunset Blvd.
                                                                         

Copyright 2008 Scott W. Smith

2008/5/1(木)～5/24(土)

La danza di primavera, nel distretto di Ponto-cho (先斗町), si tiene presso il Ponto-cho Kaburenjō Theater, dal primo al ventiquattro maggio di ogni anno.

Questo hanamachi ha avuto origine con la costruzione di cinque case tra i fiumi Kamogawa e Takasegawa: esso celebra la sua danza di primavera fin dal 1872.

市晴 ~ Ichiharu, maiko di Ponto-cho, fotografata da Momoyama.

La Kamogawa Odori è tra i festivals più famosi dei cinque Gokagai tanto che ha attirato l’attenzione di personaggi internazionali come Charlie Chaplin e Jean Cocteau. Il distretto di Pontochō è sempre stato il più audace nelle sperimentazioni, elemento che emerge ancora oggi nell’inevitabile confronto con Gion, situato appena al di là del fiume. Il culmine dell’innovazione artistica fu rappresentato forse dal programma del 1936: Odori Tōkaidō (Ballando lungo la via Tōkaidō). Allora gli intermezzi di numeri da rivista addirittura roccheggianti suscitarono appunto i commenti entusiasti di Jean Cocteau, mentre Charlie Chaplin classificò la stravaganza con un più semplice interessante.

Ogni anno viene dunque messa in scena una nuova performance scelta nella grande varietà di storie giapponesi tradizionali.

Lo show è diviso in due parti: la prima è dedicata a una piece teatrale suddivisa in molte scene, nelle quali vengono messe in evidenza le capacità recitative delle geiko, mentre la seconda è riservata alle esibizioni delle maiko in diverse danze indipendenti l’una dall’altra: in questa edizione, ci saranno 14 apprendiste geisha delle quali 7 sono al loro debutto (fino al 1950 invece lo spettacolo rispecchiava lo schema della Miyako Odori con tutte le artiste che si esibivano insieme, sul palco).

Fotografia: Kyoto Shimbun.

La scuola di danza Inouye, appartenente al distretto di Gion, deriva dal teatro Nō. Essendo quest’ultimo un’antichissima arte che ha goduto sempre del favore della corte imperiale, le danzatrici di Gion si considerano superiori alle allieve di tutti gli altri distretti e soprattutto a quelle della scuola di ballo che si trova nel distretto di Ponto-cho, dall’altra parte del fiume Kamo, e che invece si ispira al Kabuki (歌舞伎). Come forma d’arte il Kabuki è relativamente giovane, non esisteva prima del secolo diciassettesimo, e fra i suoi estimatori c’era sempre la gente normale, più che la corte.

La parola Kabuki è formata da tre ideogrammi: ka (canto), bu (danza), ki (tecnica).

Il Kabuki fin dai primi tempi del suo sviluppo, mantenne forti legami col teatro dei burattini, il cosiddetto Jōruri (in seguito designato come Bunraku), infatti la struttura delle due forme espressive era analoga. Esso fu pertanto il modello teatrale favorito dei cosiddetti chōnin (abitanti della città), i membri della emergente classe borghese cittadina che comprendeva artigiani, commercianti e liberi professionisti. La novità di queste opere teatrali consisteva nella rappresentazione di fatti, solitamente drammatici, realmente accaduti. Anzi spesso tra l'evento e la rappresentazione trascorreva pochissimo tempo. Quindi la stessa messa in scena costituiva un vero e proprio mezzo di comunicazione che portava a conoscenza di un gran numero di persone gli accadimenti salienti della vita pubblica.

In pratica era come guardare un nostro moderno telegiornale in televisione: altrettanto utile ma decisamente più divertente.

Considerando l’origine del Kabuki si può, forse, comprendere meglio perché le geisha di Gion trovino impossibile paragonare la scuola di danza di Ponto-cho a quella Inouye.

Del resto è anche vero che la rivalità tra i vari hanamachi è sempre elegante ma inevitabilmente feroce!

Io, al contrario, sono una grande ammiratrice di questo tipo di rappresentazione teatrale. Il mio personaggio favorito è la sfortunata O-Iwa. E’ la protagonista del Tōkaidō Yotsuya Kaidan (La strana storia di Yotsuya sulla strada del Mare Orientale), un testo scritto da Nanboku Tsuruya e rappresentato nel 1825. La giovane e onesta O-Iwa viene avvelenata dal marito, che insieme a un complice l’ha anche orrendamente sfigurata, e riappare come fantasma per vendicarsi delle offese subite.

La maiko Ayano e la geiko Momiyuki, fotografate da Momoyama.

Quando l’imperatore e il governo si trasferirono a Tokyo, eletta a nuova capitale dell’impero, il governatore di Kyoto pensò di rivitalizzare il clima della città con una festa di primavera che avrebbe dovuto richiamare visitatori dall’intero Giappone e anche dall’estero. Le attrazioni principali erano le prime danze pubbliche delle geisha: a cominciare dalla Miyako Odori di Gion ( etichettata nelle pubblicità inglesi come La Danza delle Ciliegie, poiché si teneva nella stagione della fioritura del sakura ), per arrivare in seguito alla Kamogawa Odori di Ponto-cho e alla Kitano Odori di Kamishichiken. In effetti, al tempo della prima esibizione della Kamogawa Odori, non esisteva ancora un edificio adatto ad ospitare lo show. Una sala usata solitamente dai cantastorie venne trasformata in palcoscenico e il cortile di un tempio buddista adiacente diventò il camerino per le artiste. Centododici geisha si suddivisero in quattro gruppi e danzarono lì, a giorni alterni. Contemporaneamente continuarono anche ad intrattenere gli abituali clienti nelle rispettive o-chaya, rischiando l’esaurimento fisico e mentale. Il titolo di questo primo programma del marzo 1872 fu Miyako no Nigiwaj (Prosperità a Kyoto) e il successo sconfinato.

Ponto-cho sorge in una stretta via secondaria che corre tra Sanjō-dōri e Shijō-dōri subito a ovest del Kamogawa. Per apprezzarne appieno il fascino vale la pena di esplorarlo la sera, quando i tradizionali edifici in legno e le lanterne accese creano un’atmosfera avvolgente in cui sembra rivivere l’antico Giappone. Il nome Ponto-cho è derivato dal fatto che la parola giapponese kawa quando viene scritta nell’alfabeto fonetico può significare sia fiume sia pelle o rivestimento di qualcosa. In questo caso si fa riferimento alla pelle di rivestimento dello tsuzumi. Questo tamburo quando viene colpito produce un pon che suona come il nome Ponto-cho. Oppure il nome potrebbe nascere da una corruzione della parola portoghese ponto (corrispondente all’inglese point). In ogni caso la sua vera origine è ancora incerta.

Esso appartiene alla Scuola Onoe ed è un hanamachi davvero unico e popolare in quanto, in estate, offre ai suoi clienti la possibilità di essere intrattenuti negli yuka: i caratteristici patii in legno dei ristoranti e delle o-chaya lungo le sponde del fiume.

La Kamogawa Odori è rappresentata in maggio e aperta al pubblico: assolutamente uno spettacolo da non perdere.

In Autunno invece si tiene la Suimei-kai.

Extrait du film La Belle et la Bête, réalisé par Jean Cocteau en 1946

Davantage d'extraits du même film d'après la sélection d'am0123 sur YouTube

Texte du conte de Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont, 1757

"The best of films is that it's all a card trick done in front of the audience without letting them see what's up one's sleeve."

~ Jean Cocteau, Diary of a Film.

Inspiring words! I urge filmmakers to keep them in mind and to remember also the words spoken to the poet in Cocteau's OPRHEE: "Astonish me."

I first worked with Eclipse as the lighting designer for The Infernal Machine, the final production of the Cocteau season (and the last show in the old Bucktown theater, which was destroyed in a fire after the first weekend of performances, but more on that later).

As part of our two-year celebration of the first ten playwrights we've featured, ensemble members and guest artists will be reading scenes from Cocteau's plays, discussing his novels and films, and playing some music. In this picture, Cheri Chenoweth and Nina O'Keefe rehearse a scene from The Holy Terrors as Josh Venditti and Kevin Scott look on.

The event - Exploring's Cocteau's World - will be this Saturday at 2pm at the Victory Gardens Greenhouse Theater at 2257 N Lincoln in Chicago. It's a free event for Eclipse subscribers ($5 suggested donation for everyone else); call us at 312-738-0704 to reserve a seat.

I love cats because I enjoy my home, and little by little, they become its visible soul.

-- Jean Cocteau, French poet and filmmaker

Jean Cocteau

"Temos que aproveitar quando a sorte está do nosso lado, e fazer tudo para ajudá-la da mesma maneira que ela nos está a ajudar."

Paulo Coelho, in O Alquimista