Reparto principal:
Toshirô Mifune ... Det. Murakami
Takashi Shimura ... Det. Sato
Isao Kimura ... Shinjiro Yusa
Keiko Awaji ... Harumi Namaki
Reisaburo Yamamoto ... Hondo
Teruko Kishi ... Ogin
Gen Shimizu ... Inspector de Policía Nakajima

Fotografía:
Asakazu Nakai

Música original:
Fumio Hayasaka

Montaje:
Toshio Goto
Yoshi Sugihara

Palabras clave:

1940s, Arrest, Atmospheric, Backstage, Ballistics, Baseball, Bellhop, Black Market, Bleak, Bus, Cafe, Chase, Crime Scene, criminal, Dress, Fight, Firing Range, Flashback Sequence, Fountain, Fukuoka Daiei Hawks, Geisha, Guilt, Gun, Heat Wave, Hospital, Hotel, Interrogation, Investigation, Loss Of Wife, Moody, Mother Daughter Relationship, Murder, Obsession, Obsessive Quests, partner, Pickpocket, Police, Police Chase, Police Detective, Police Detective Film, Police Surveillance, police-officer, Questionable for Children, Railway Station, Reporter, Resignation, responsibility, robbery, rookie, Rookie Cops, Rookie Detective, Shooting, Show Girl, Streetcar, Telephone Box, Tense, Theater, thief, Thriller, Thunderstorm, Tokyo Japan, Train, Undercover, Urban Drama, Voice Over, Wipe, WWII Veteran

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who plays at online casinos

online casinos: Italian market

Guys, I cannot work right now. I have been in the throes of intense final paper composition for the past week and a half and I don't know if I'm going to make it. Even if I lock myself in my room, turn off the internet, silence my cell phone and swear to myself that I will not take my hands off the keyboard until I've written a page, I will somehow find something else to do. Last night I convinced myself that, for a section in my paper concerning stage directions, it was imperative that I compare different versions of Fafnir's death on Youtube. Less than an hour later, my dubiously valid detour had devolved into 'Cat Bloopers II' (a pale imitation of the original; I did laugh until I cried at this newscaster getting attacked by a lizard, though, and this clown murderer set-up is well-executed.)

To get the compositional juices flowing, I thought I'd relate something that happened to me a few months ago that I'm still sore about.

I had gone by myself to a small movie theatre on rue Saint-André-des-Arts in the Latin Quarter. There was a Wim Wender's festival that week and I hoped to catch up with one of my most glaring arthouse oversights: Paris, Texas ('84). There was only a handful of people in the theatre, mainly students. I was using my dad's erstwhile camera bag (a vintage military gunnysack, dyed brown) to carry my things. Wary of thieves (but not wary enough), I placed the bag on the floor between my feet.

Paris, Texas is a rambling but powerful film, and certainly Sam Shepard's best turn as a screenwriter. (I will die happy if I never have to sit through Zabriskie Point again.) When the lights came up in the theatre, I reached down for my sack. It was open, and my cell phone, weeks-old iPod and headphones were gone. My notebook and copy of Pariscope were still inside. I figured that my things must have rolled down the theatre's raked seating, so I crawled around under the plush red rows, searching.

'Have you lost something, jeune homme?' an elderly, exiting patron asked. Yes, I can't seem to find my headphones. Do you see them? 'No. Have you looked in the bathroom?' That's a good idea; perhaps I had left my things on the sink.

They weren't there, of course. They had been stolen, quite literally from under my nose, and it took the flatulent French mouth of the theatre's owner to convince me that theft was responsible for the disappearance: 'Monsieur, there are pickpockets in every theatre in Paris. It's dark in there, you see.' I heard someone leave about twenty minutes into the film. It must have been him.

I've had things stolen from me before. Someone broke into my car when I was in high school, but that didn't involve someone slithering along the floor of a movie theatre and silently extracting only the valuables from a sack sitting between my legs. Hardly. The car thieves smashed the driver's side window with a bat, pried out the stereo and squealed their tires as they sped off.

It's the difference between old- and new-world crime. I've had a few friends mugged in New York. One was held up with a butcher's knife (Hey Theo!), and the others were alternately punched, slapped or choked unconscious and robbed. My parents were recently held up at gunpoint in a Wal-Mart parking lot. In Paris, you get offered a bouquet of flowers on the subway and realize two hours later that your wallet's gone. I'm not suggesting that there isn't violent crime in Paris or the rest of Europe, but, in general, there's an artistry to the crime here that is rare in the States (cf. Rififi, Le Cercle Rouge).

I occasionally think about the people that broke into my car. I was furious about it at the time. I'd never had my property violated like that, and the stereo was the fruit of a summer's demeaning labor at a pie restaurant. If I'd been able to catch up to these guys, or somehow preempt them, would I have been content to turn them over to the police? Or would I have wanted a (less brutal) American History X level of satisfaction?

When I got home from the theatre, I was also furious. After I downed a fifth of J&B whiskey, though, that fury transformed into a kind of sympathetic awe. As opposed to the thugs that caused hundreds of dollars of damage to my car (in addition to the loss of my stereo), I had to admire how the man in the movie theatre had procured my valuables in an almost surgical manner. I started thinking about the training such a skill required, and how the man himself felt about his occupation. I doubt he's as existentially freighted as the sullen protagonist of Robert Bresson's Pickpocket ('59), but I realized that his vocation, despite the inconvenience to its victims, is likely a necessity. He steals for a living, literally.

This isn't Les Misérables. If the police had caught the pickpocket as he was leaving the theatre, I wouldn't have waved them off, handing over my digital camera, saying, 'Sir, would you leave the best behind?' but I think my pathos would still have overwhelmed my anger, especially if I had known how readily my losses would be compensated. My friend gave me her sister's old cell phone, my parents replaced the iPod with a bigger one at Christmas, and I used an Amazon gift certificate from my brother to get an even better pair of headphones. So, I'm pretty much restored. The pickpocket probably fed his kid for a few weeks with the money he got from my iPod. (Alternatively, I like to think that he kept the iPod for himself, fell for some of the artists, changed his criminal ways, and now publishes Villiers-le-Bel's premiere Giorgio Moroder 'zine.)

He'll probably get caught some day. Or not. In either case, I wish him luck. If I could have word with him right now, I'd let him know: those Grado headphones are good for portable players, but you really should upgrade for your home system.

+ Speaking of petty theft, many travelers already know that keeping your valuables in a difficult-to-reach place helps protect them from pickpockets. If they don't know where you're keeping your money, they can't steal it, right? Two more useful tools in the fight against five-finger losses: 1) a plastic bus pass holder for your transportation tickets and 2) a coin purse. Instead of pulling out your entire wallet, simply flash your pass or use the coins (or small bills) in the coin purse to pay for most of your daily transactions. Keeping these items separate keeps your wallet more secure!

+ Universities are a great resource for a no-budget traveler. Head to the library for free internet access, photocopiers, and lockers where you might stash your luggage. When desperate, head there for free bathrooms and taps to fill your water bottle. During the daytime, the university's cafeterias offer inexpensive hot meals.  If you need assistance, university staff and students are the native population most likely to speak English well.

+ Still thirsty? During working hours, many banks offer water coolers in their lobby, with both hot and cold varieties available.

+ Traveling on the German Autobahn, you will soon discover that the restrooms at rest stops are monopolized by a company called Sanifair. Your 50-cent admission purchases a coupon that not only gets you in and out of the turnstiles to the toilet but also grants you a face-value discount on any purchase at the rest area. These coupons are good for one year and fully transferable, so save them up or pool the tickets from your travel group to purchase meals, drinks and snacks for free!

+ Didn't find one postcard for sale in the small town you visited, or simply didn't have a chance to pick some up? Head to the post office; they almost always have local postcards for sale, and while their selection is generally limited, it is better than nothing when your loved ones are expecting mail! Bonus is the post office can also sell you the appropriate postage at the same time.

Thanks to Megan for help with this list!

Looking for further tips?
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While waiting for the other passengers to trickle in, I saw something odd. It must have been the way he laid his bag. Something wrong. The bag was too thin to be loaded with anything but paper. And yet it kinda stood there on his lap like a sentry. I said to myself, he didn't need to have it stand up. It was just too precarious with every bump on the road, slipping down on his lap. I was thinking this man could have let it sit on his lap with greater convenience and not propped up.

But I guess convenience was not what he was aiming for.

Sitting across from him, I saw him sit and place his backpack on his lap careful to overlap his knees and the victim's with the bag. Propped lengthwise, it was a good cover to his intentions. With his right arm hidden, he groped his way into the victim's lower side pocket (cargo pants).

I saw his right arm move up and down, his hand totally hidden. He was swift and confident as he looked at the other passengers, checking whether he was being monitored or not while his seeking hand worked its way.

I had to tear my eyes off. But I wanted to know how he would execute this. What was his spoils? Will the victim know in due time. Poor fellow, victim was busy playing the attentive boyfriend to his girl who was seated on his left.

We reached Vinzon's Hall, and the pickpocket got off speedily. He stood up and as he did, there was a butt of a cellphone in his right hand, shiny and new.

1943--the Year of the Ram. In the Temple of Sublime Truth, high in the Himalayas, a master monk prepares to transfer an ancient scroll to his young protege. The scroll holds the key to an unspeakable power, one which in the wrong hands could destroy the world. According to prophecy, the young monk will become the steward of the scroll for the next sixty years--five times the Year of the Ram. But to do so, he must sacrifice everything he has--including his name. Present day--the Year of the Ram. It is time to pass the scroll and its secrets on to a new guardian, one chosen by destiny and revealed through the fulfillment of the three Noble Prophecies. But the bulletproof monk has no students. He's far from home, in another world, another time, and an old adversary from one of history's most evil chapters is closing in. Though he is hunted and alone, fate throws the monk together with a very talented but undisciplined--and unorthodox--young pickpocket named Kar. Could this be the disciple he's been searching for? Could Kar possibly have the strength and the will to be entrusted with this task? Can a common thief possibly be enlightened? Maybe--but they may not survive long enough to find out.

"1943 -- the Year of the Ram. In the Temple of Sublime Truth, high in the Himalayas, a master monk prepares to transfer an ancient scroll to his young prot�g�. The scroll holds the key to an unspeakable power, one which in the wrong hands could destroy the world. According to prophecy, the young monk will become the steward of the scroll for the next sixty years -- five times the Year of the Ram. But to do so, he must sacrifice everything he has -- including his name. Present day -- the Year of the Ram. It is time to pass the scroll and its secrets on to a new guardian, one chosen by destiny and revealed through the fulfillment of the three Noble Prophecies. But the bulletproof monk has no students. He's far from home, in another world, another time, and an old adversary from one of history's most evil chapters is closing in. Though he is hunted and alone, fate throws the monk together with a very talented but undisciplined -- and unorthodox -- young pickpocket named Kar. Could this be the disciple he's been searching for? Could Kar possibly have the strength and the will to be entrusted with this task? Can a common thief possibly be enlightened? Maybe -- but they may not survive long enough to find out. "

Order Bulletproof Monk from Amazon for $5.59

E também o Homem de Ferro... Ou como diria Ozzy; - Iron, Iron Man... É um ótimo filme, apesar do sentimento americanoide que paira sobre nossas cabeças, é a guerra contra o terrorismo comendo solta por meio da sétima arte. A atuação do Robert Downey Jr caiu como uma luva no personagem, assim como a armadura. Eu nunca fui fã de filmes assim justamente por isso, os efeitos não me deixam crer no que estou vendo, mas as cenas de ação são principalmente noturnas, em ambientes escuros ou no deserto com um céu sempre azul. Fica mais fácil de engolir, pois não há tanto contraste computação gráfica X realidade. Ao contrario do Homem Aranha, por exemplo... Ou o Hulk “prefiro o antigão”.

E finalmente o Sonho de Cassandra, aguardado filme de Woody Allen. O último filme dele que assisti foi Match Point, e confesso que lembrei deste no desenrolar da história. Antes de assistir li algumas criticas negativas sobre o filme, mas graças à internet, hoje esse tipo de comentário negativo a alguma coisa logo cai por terra. Ninguém mais dá ouvido a esses críticos, e nem ao pessoal que escreve resenhas e conta quase o filme inteiro dessa forma. O filme tem começo, meio e fim. Não é cansativo e não possui mistérios a serem desvendados. O verdadeiro mistério esta em analisar posteriormente ao assisti-lo a atitude dos protagonistas, aqui Ewan McGregor “Star Wars, Big Fish” e Colin Farrell. Li uma coluna da professora de filosofia da USP, Dulce Critelli, e conclui que o filme analisa um ser humano antagônico e faz um dialogo entre culpa e razão, o que é certo e o que é errado para o homem moderno, com suas ambições e os obstáculos para alcançar seus desejos. Nas palavras da professora, “... o homicídio premeditado é o principal ato humano em que a consciência moral se torna totalmente emergente”. O filme retrata como os dois personagens lidam com a violência que podem causar, como responder a seus atos, e como serem honestos com eles próprios. Há ainda uma intertextualidade própria da arte, o que eu acho magnífica. Na mitologia, Cassandra vivia alertando os troianos por uma desgraça que estava eminente, e era considerada louca por suas previsões. E esse é justamente um dos aspectos do filme, uma desgraça premeditada que pode levar a loucura. E Cassandra era o nome do barco que... Bom, quem não assistiu, deveria. Ou melhor, cada cabeça uma sentença.

Pensei na menina Isabela enquanto assistia ao filme. Talvez pelo impacto psicológico sofrido da conduta humana.

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Update: Esqueci de dizer que Cassandra’s Dream possui idéias ambivalentes do clássico Crime e Castigo de Dostoievski. O que forma uma espécie de dialogo entre filme e livro.
E isso me fez lembrar de Nina, filme de Heitor Dhalia (Cheiro do Ralo), que apesar de ser Global e trazer atores como Wagner Moura, Lázaro Ramos, Matheus Nachtergaele e Selton Mello, além da própria Guta Stresser (Grande Família) também faz uma releitura fascinante de Crime e Castigo. Com uma mulher encarnando o personagem do livro. O submundo aqui é São Paulo.

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Update 2: Pickpocket, do Bresson, também trabalha esse conceito de "Crime e Castigo". Em mostra no mes de Julho na Cinemateca - SP. É um bom filme, diga-se de passagem... Apesar dos atores não serem tão bons -  propositalmente!

Interessante bater de frente com um cinema tão frio e tão pálido neste meu “período” de devoção total ao sentimento. Não que isso necessariamente prejudicasse minha sessão de Pickpocket, mas a partir de quando o Bresson refrigera tanto suas imagens e lança as sensações e emoções de Michel (o que constitui sua humanidade) a níveis tão longínquos, a panos de fundo tão distantes e intocáveis, o que era pra ter sido a experiência sensorial compartilhada entre personagem e espectador, termina não funcionando.

Não consigo parar de pensar em O Samurai. No filme de Jean-Pierre Melville, absolutamente tudo, desde as composições simétricas, mecânicas, de uma beleza álgida, morta e retilínea, como a interpretação movida a engrenagens de Alain Delon, entram em contato direto com o espectador transmitindo uma frieza e uma melancolia desconcertantes exatamente pela palidez que esmalta o filme, ao contrário de Pickpocket, cujo vácuo entre o filme e quem o assiste não transmite coisa alguma.

Mas é bom, ainda que meramente. A escolha de Bresson por um ator amador como protagonista é bem interessante. Apesar de prejudicar demais o filme em qualquer cena que exija uma interação entre ele algum outro personagem, as cenas de Michel em ação captam na estranheza e falta de jeito no rosto de Martin LaSalle o desconforto do seu próprio personagem. Martin e Michel compartilham insegurança. E além do mais, a seqüência de furtos na estação de trem é fantástica. Junto com a cena final, a melhor coisa do filme.

2/4

Luis Henrique Boaventura

Pickpocket é uma confissão. É o registro do remorso; do engasgo do desespero; da dor. Um produto da consciência do pecado. Uma invasão sem sobreavisos ao obscuro sobrado do arrependimento, onde vagueia o homem à procura de redenção. Pela melancolia do momento, é até curioso o fato de ser tão imprescindível a frieza da abordagem, a insistência no distanciamento daquele que é o principal pilar do filme: os sentimentos.

Porque Pickpocket é o registro de uma alma sob forma de um filme sem alma; duro; impenetrável – e, curiosamente, por isso mesmo, tão profundo. Uma dissecação com sobreavisos de um homem transtornado pela frieza que transpira a cada movimento. É o registro do vazio e do distanciamento que substraem um coração. Um engasgo de desespero que brota do desconserto. Um produto que perdura na inconsciência do destino. Uma auto-descrição impenetrável e tinturada de efeito bumerangue.

É o registro da busca de redenção sob forma de uma confissão que não pretende ser ouvida.

4/4

Daniel Dalpizzolo

Traveling, and the security issues have changed so much since the Patriot Act and ensuing directives that security issues are a hurdle to consider all by themselves.

America is getting more like Europe every day, where the people have compromised with their governments to have a 'friendly fascism' and agree to any and every security measure that the government can dream up. While I was there, it always astonished me how many details I had to remember, how many security gauntlets I had to go through, how uncomfortably INTRUSIVE it all was.

Now, we have all this and more in America. It is a true change. One big difference is that here, these measures are not so 'friendly.'

In spite of all these fascistic measures, used by the government to 'protect' the people, it still did nothing to protect the people from a very serious scourge- pickpocketing!

I thought I was well-prepared for this well-known problem in Paris, I had travelers checks, duplicates of my passport and ID, credit cards. I had a bag that seemed to me to be difficult to get into, I kept my bag where I could see it, kept my attention on it.

On the bus from La Defense on the way to the Louvre, though, just before an interim stop, a young man, preparing to get off the bus came close to me. I felt NOTHING, my bag seemed alright, but I JUST KNEW. I looked at him with... an intense look and he was SHOCKED. He zipped out that door as soon as it slid open and ran so fast....

I got situated and looked into my bag and, yes! Everything was gone. Money, ID, credit cards, traveler's checks. Bureaucracy of ANY kind in Europe is simply torturous. It took ALL DAY to deal with what I lost. I'm STILL waiting for my traveler's checks to be reimbursed. Talk about a blot on a trip to the City of Lights! It ruined more than one day, I can tell you!

As that European Spirit of 'friendly fascism' descends on America, and rumors of pickpocketing and other crimes in America grow, like purses snatched from church pews and restaurant seats; identity theft, and so on, traveling now takes on a whole new character.

Traveling comfortably, lightly, with easily manageable things are important skills to hone. Now, though, to ignore your personal security is to leave yourself wide open for crime.

I've looked long and hard for a purse/ travel bag that would really take care of the security problem. This may or may not be important to you, but it has become increasingly so for me. I've looked and looked for good travel accessories- a purse, a backpack, an overnight bag, etc. that really did address my security concerns. I found one that I want to share with you.

pacsafe has made these bags, lightweight, with certain security features that are really useful. My pickpocket managed to get the top of my bag open without even letting me know something was wrong- these bags have secured zippers and clasps that are IMPOSSIBLE to open without notice.

So many times I heard other tourists complaining that someone just used a razor knife to cut their strap and BANG, the bag was GONE. pacsafe has put cabling in their bag's straps- TWO cables- which means someone would actually have to have large wire cutters to get through both, spaced as they are. The body of the bag cannot be slashed to create an opening, either, because there is an 'exomesh' that cannot be cut but that moves and shifts with your bag and protects your contents. It has anchor clips, and you can use your cable straps and anchor clips to secure your bag to your restaurant chair, your belt, or someplace sturdy in the event you will be distracted for a few minutes.

By the way, I earn no money for this. Many of my readers seem to be on the 'same page' as I am on so many things, I thought I would share this important preparation for my summer with you.

The bag I have is attractive enough- not a designer 'to die for' bag, but it is presentable, if you're not wearing pearls, but for a more casual look it is just fine. It is light to carry, (my coach bags weigh a ton), and it has all the organizing bells and whistles that are standard fare in any bag.

One thing that it seems to me is missing, though, and that is an RFID cloaking pocket for passports and identification cards. Now with the new chips going into the passports and the driver's licenses, no matter what the RFID manufacturer's say, criminals like those pickpockets, who make it their career to find ways to steal from people, will be concentrating very heavily on getting RFID readers and they will be USING them. They may already have them. This is a NEW vulnerability that is being completely ignored or denied, but I say it is an even greater danger than a pickpocket getting a few hundred bucks.

This is the trouble with travel now. The government fears what WE will do to IT, and it cares nothing for what it does to us, how miserable travel has become, how humiliating to go through a search that only convicted felons have had to undergo in previous years, or how vulnerable it makes us.

This is one insane Cirque show. The story is simple or so I think anyway. An Innocent receives a package out of which The Trickster escapes like a jack in the box. That alone is an impressive effect. Soon the after the acrobatics begin.

The Highlights for me were The Trapeze, The Wheel of Death and the Pickpocket.

The Pickpocket.
He takes some unsuspecting spectator on stage under the guise of teaching him a magic trick but during the show he steals everything from his pockets including taking off his tie without the spectator noticing and it his hilarious.

The Trapeze.
This solo trapeze artist wiped her ass with the Saltimbanco Twins. Her Hard Rock themed show with hyper-kinetic moves was insane and just ROCKED. It was like a clean stripper show on a trapeze instead of a pole. Just awesome.

The Wheel of Death.
Hamsters in the wheel on crack. This is so batshit insane I can’t properly describe it. It’s a spinning device with two wheels at each end in which two acrobats do a lot of spinning and jumping and drive the crowd to the edge of their seats.

The Music is an incredible blend of eastern fusion, with hard-rock and jazz that really sweep you into the action, the lighting is brilliant, the costumes deserve some sort of prize and all the performers are pros. And there’s a drum solo to keep you distracted as they set stuff up that would make Bonham proud.

I can’t wait to see it again.

And today at work we got a little gift, the brand spanking new soundtrack to Kooza that pops open into a cube

I am so pissed that I just had to come online to write this entry, because nobody at home has the patience and mood to hear me whine. My darling blog is static, it listens to me and does whatever I want it to do. What a good boy. So here goes....

If it isn't already bad enough, Yes, I am attributing my pig cycle (as defined in this diagram of my previous entry) to those noise. I mean my friend says, "If you really wanna study, you can study anywhere." I guess that means, I am suppose to be able to filter out noise. BUT I AM TRYING TO GET OUT OF MY PIG CYCLE and the noise isn't helping. Yes, IT IS ALL ABOUT ME. Isn't it what the exams wanna test? What do I Know? What the heck did I learn this past semester? ME ME ME! Why don't they just test me what time construction work near me starts? Approximately what time will one large vehicle start reversing in with ultra loud beeping sensors? What colour their machines are? What does that little white board with red words say? "DANGER - KEEP OUT". What is the time interval between their drilling noise and un-drilling noise? TEST ME! I should be able to ACE it.

Constructions work of noise exceeding certain decibels should STOP during the month of April and November. Because university students who do not live in school residence, have no other refuge but home. They have EXAMS. E-X-A-M-S. That's how you spell exams. If they can't even stay at home for peace and quiet, where else can they go? Going out to study is expensive. Costs me ~$30 bucks per study trip out. Where else can they go? Maybe they are just better off drowning themselves in water so they can't hear anything. I must sound crazy at this point. I AM FRIGGING PISSED OFF!!

I blame the drilling noise for not being able to hear anything. Apparently, my whole family has been shouting for me to go down for lunch, and I didn't hear anything. My family believes in eating together while the food is fresh and hot. So when they left me food, just because I didn't come down for lunch. It means something, NOT GOOD! Just that no one said anything about it, thinking this is the period of time they should be more understanding, etc etc etc. So I went and started complaining about stupid IRRITATING drilling noise. And before I could stop myself, I started tearing. MOM hates it when I tear, so she starts getting pissed off, and said something along the lines of how I should be thankful people are drilling at that time of the day and not midnight. Why don't I just go across and tell those construction people off, instead of just complaining to her ears? And other stuff, I don't think I have the heart to just repeat them out. Basically she is just being sarcastic on how I like to wake up past noon. Anyhow, I have a very good mind to just walk there and just tell them off. But walking there is sucha feat that requires much effort on my part. So I just sit here and endure the noise. Wow, another step closer to PIG lifestyle. Anyway I have already vented out, I have screamed at the construction site for 5 minutes telling them to SHUT UP and DRILL after my exams! Yes again, it's all about me.

But you know, perhaps the night is just much more peaceful. LIKE I SAID, I can SLEEP WITH NOISE. Because I tune them out when I sleep. Analagous to my friend's comment on "If you really wanna study, you can study anywhere", I say this, "If you really wanna sleep, you can sleep anywhere". That means, I REALLLY REALLLLY REALLLLY WANNA SLEEP, OKAY?!?!?!??!

Anyway, I hate being the last one at the table. You know what this means? It means, if you can't finish up the food, either you bear the guilt of throwing food away, or you feel obligated to keep the food away nicely. Usually, I am just too lazy to keep the food, so I just eat it up, that settles everything :)

Just an aside, check this out, I WANNA LEARN this pickpocket technique. So cool!

Robert Bresson's Pickpocket is Dostoevsky meets The Bicycle Thief. Vittorio de Sica's film focuses on the man rather than on the whodunit?, and in the same way, Bresson's film centers on the character Michel and the effect that his actions have on him rather than on the actions themselves. Both films have to do with stealing, though they are reversed in terms of the thievery of the protagonist. Whereas in The Bicycle Thief the main character is the victim of stealing and then, in his desperation, feels forced to steal (and is caught), in Pickpocket the character steals from the beginning and only by the end seems to become sobered to his actions. Still, Pickpocket is not primarily a moralistic tale. In this way it feels much more like Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Like Raskolnikov, Michel is a slave to his small, dilapidated dwelling-place. His over-sized coat is as much to hide stolen items as it is simply the only coat he owns. He holds his cards very close, suspecting even his closest "friends" (i.e. acquaintances) of knowing his covert doings when they sometimes, but often don't, have a clue. But as opposed to Raskolnikov, Michel has more of a late-20th century air about him. He would not have the gall to commit murder (not only like Dostoevsky's Raskolnikov but also Camus' Stranger). He is more apathetic than ambivalent. He is increasingly noncommittal as the film draws to a close. Paralyzed by fear and conscience, he craves complete control of himself and his surroundings, not even venturing to the realm of intoxication.

The camera, like Michel the character, both needs and is repelled by crowds. A sense of claustrophobia resides wherever he does. During pickpocketing scenes, point of view is generally restricted to either over-the-shoulder (Michel's) or a 90-degree of his face along with the face of the other whose pocket he is picking. The film's structure is interesting, with Michel caught at both the beginning (at a horse race) and the end (also at a horse race). The film's thrust seems to lie more in its epilogue, however, when Jeanne visits him in jail, and he states, "Oh Jeanne, to reach you at last, what a strange path I had to take." His dialogue confirms what has heretofore been the case, that he is to be the object of our attention. All that we have seen so far has not been for its own sake - this is not Ocean's Eleven - but rather for the impact they have on Michel and where they take him in the end. Throughout the film, hands (particularly Michel's) are of import to the camera. In the final scene, though he grasps through the bars of prison, he cannot hold what he wants: not her wallet, but her.

Assassin's Creed is a brand new game that was just released for the PC recently. Unforunately someone in the company leaked the full version of the game before release and now the number of people who will download it rather then buy it has gone up.

In Assassin's Creed you play the role of Desmond a bartender some time in the future, but Desmond is not only a bartender he is also an ex-member of the millenia old Assassin's Brotherhood. The Brotherhood is in an age-old war with the Templars. Desmond is captured by the Templars and they put him in a machine called the Animus to try and bring up memories passed down to him by his ancestors. You will spend most of your time 1,000 years in the past during the Great Crusade fighting in historical places such as Jerusalem, Acre, and Damascus. While in the past you will carry out Assassinations on Templars by gathering information about their plans and whereabouts from the citizens of the town by either Interrogation, Pickpocketing, Eavesdropping, or the many Informer Missions.

All in all the game is amazing, the graphics are even better then Crysis and the story line was pure genius. the only thing I disliked was the disappointing ending. I won't spoil it for you but it does not look like there will be an Assassin's Creed 2.

I suggest buying this game and supporting Ubisoft rather then downloading it online for free.

Be sure to come back next week for another Full-Detail Game Review from Purple Cow Reviews.

Interessante bater de frente com um cinema tão frio e tão pálido neste meu “período” de devoção total ao sentimento. Não que isso necessariamente prejudicasse minha sessão de Pickpocket, mas a partir de quando o Bresson refrigera tanto suas imagens e lança as sensações e emoções de Michel (o que constitui sua humanidade) a níveis tão longínquos, a panos de fundo tão distantes e intocáveis, o que era pra ter sido a experiência sensorial compartilhada entre personagem e espectador, termina não funcionando.

Não consigo parar de pensar em O Samurai. No filme de Jean-Pierre Melville, absolutamente tudo, desde as composições simétricas, mecânicas, de uma beleza álgida, morta e retilínea, como a interpretação movida a engrenagens de Alain Delon, entram em contato direto com o espectador transmitindo uma frieza e uma melancolia desconcertantes exatamente pela palidez que esmalta o filme, ao contrário de Pickpocket, cujo vácuo entre o filme e quem o assiste não transmite coisa alguma.

Mas é bom, ainda que meramente. A escolha de Bresson por um ator amador como protagonista é bem interessante. Apesar de prejudicar demais o filme em qualquer cena que exija uma interação entre ele algum outro personagem, as cenas de Michel em ação captam na estranheza e falta de jeito no rosto de Martin LaSalle o desconforto do seu próprio personagem. Martin e Michel compartilham insegurança. E além do mais, a seqüência de furtos na estação de trem é fantástica. Junto com a cena final, a melhor coisa do filme.

2,5/4

Un peu "vache" l'histoire mais il faut partager. En fait je me suis inspirée d'un tube de boysband africain.

Lundi matin, c'est la cohue à l'arrêt du bus. Il y a ceux qui vont travailler dans les bureaux, ceux qui ont leur commerce au pied des bureaux et ceux dont le bureau s'avère être le bus: les pickpockets.  Ils vont par bande de quatre souvent. Un système bien rodé. Celui qui repère la proie, celui qui pratique, et les autres qui s'éclipsent avec le butin....

Ce matin là donc, les passagers sont sérrés comme des sardines en bôite dans le bus. Pas besoin de se tenir à quelque chose, un peu comme ici lors des grèves de la SNCF.  Un commerçant, en sarouel était là au milieu de la foule. Les commerçants là bas sont riches, très riches et on dit souvent qu'ils transportent leur banque dans le sarouel.

Il s'est vite fait répéré par l'un des pickpockets. Il se faufile avec beaucoup de peine mais parvient à se placer près du commerçant. Il reste naturel, mais ses mains commencent à chercher, il trouve la poche du commerçant, y glisse la main espérant en extraire une liasse de billets...

Au fond de la poche, à la place des billets il rencontre un objet assez bizarre, quelque chose de dur, l'homme ne bouge pas, le pickpocket vérifie puis réalise que la poche en fait n'a pas de fond, et qu'il est en contact avec les parties intimes du commerçant, il commence à retirer tout doucement sa main et là, le commerçant parle enfin. Garre à toi si tu arrêtes. Continue ce que tu es en train de faire sinon je crie "au voleur".

Tout le monde sait comment ces derniers sont traités. A la moindre alerte L'individu est cerné et risque gros. Alors notre pickpocket, très docile replonge la main au fond du sarouel et s'applique à masturber le commerçant ( je pense que nous sommes tous des adultes responsables et que nous pouvons appeler les choses par leur nom).

Le trajet est long, les gens descendent, le pickpocket prie pour que enfin vienne le tour du commerçant. Manque de chance, ce dernier a sa boutique à l'autre bout de la ville. Imaginez le tour de Paris en PC.
humor

Tous les amis du pickpocket sont descendus aussi mais lui était coincé, la main dans la poche du commerçant; ils avaient un secret à partager.

Le commerçant demande un arrêt, le pickpocket peutenfin retirer la main.

Le commerçant satisfait le remercie avant de descendre et ajoute:"

"Vous vous croyez malins n'est pas, la prochaine fois, réfléchis par deux fois avant de glisser la main dans le sarouel des gens"

Celui là sera marqué à jamais et qui sait peut être même qu'il pensera à changer de métier...

The subway arrives, the doors open up.
People  get out, and it's our turn to get in.

In the crowd there's 2 german tourists, a young woman, myself and 2 kids about 12, 13 years old.

The tourist get in, and on the side in the space in front of the door, the young woman was in first and is at the opposite. the 2 kids come in and I'm just behind them.

They seem to stay in front of the door and stick to each other. To me they looked confused...
Then as the door starts biping, they run out of the subway and a woman shouts "grab them!".

I was thinking they were with her and out of confusion they got out. It's so fast, it was tough to understand what was going on.

They got their way in the small bag which was hanging in front of the german woman and got their way out of the train.

Let's just slow motion on the event and try to prevent something like this from happening again.

A few things should have triggered awareness, but like the tsunami that hit Asia, nobody reacts because we don't get the hints and it happens so fast.

1) The kids walk in the subway and they stick to each other very closely.
2) They don't get out of the way and stand  in front of the door even though there's  a lot of space in the train. I actually told them to move on and got my way in by bullying a bit.
3) They look extremely serious and ready.
4) They dress up with very baggy coat.

If there's an obvious reason as why they stand in front of the door and look serious, it's not jumping to the eyes why they stick to each other and wear baggy coat.

1 )They actually stand in front of their target, touching it (the german tourist in our case) so that they'll get use to their body presence.
2) They don't face their target but they know what they want and where it is.
3) They stick to each other and use baggy coat to hide the arm of one of them stuck below his other arm, doing its business in front of everybody (so his hand is in his back and that's why they don't face their target).

When the door rings and start closing they run out leaving everybody else inside the leaving train.

It turns out they grabbed no money and passport. It was just a notepad.

My recommandation to avoid this kind of problem is:

1) Avoid looking like a rich tourist. In paris dress like a parisian. In bangkok, dress like an expat. You are going to be the primary target...

2) Deter the eventual pickpocket if you got a bag hanging in front of you by putting something useless on top (the notepad on top of everything in the bag was very fortunate). Put your wallet/passport in a slot inside the bag with a zipper. It would be another wall to cross for the pickpocket and he got just a few second. There's no time...

3) A pickpocket is never acting alone. To avoid getting caught, he would give his gain to someone else in case he is discovered. You will find nothing on him. Be wary of strange acting people. The only fact that they are acting strange should bring you in caution mode and have your hand in your pocket to avoid this. Just in case.

4) Don't  let anybody bump into you or touch you (It looks more normal in the subway aha)

Finally, I hope I'll never cross someone as skilled as this one or the next thing I'll know, I'll be naked in the middle of the street.

warning: unused variable 'pippo'

Ops... misa che è colpa mia! Ed è andata pure bene, visto che non di rado, soprattutto quando le cose non funzionano come dico io, sono solito scrivere cose tipo:

int fava;

Noblesse oblige...

Sempre su quei vecchi sorgenti, e sempre a tempo di compilazione, gcc mi produce pure il seguente:

warning: Worakaround for <descrizione problema>: please remove it some day!

Ancora opera mia...

Mi sovviene allora un aneddoto che ho letto recentemente in Dreaming in Code, dove l'autore Scott Rosenberg a pag. 308 racconta di commenti al codice sorgente di Windows 2000 di questo tenore:

// We have to do this only because Exchange is a moron

Il codice sorgente, quello commerciale in particolare, è spesso lontano da quello che il senso estetico di Donald Knuth percepirebbe come gradevole... E' pur vero che in alcuni casi il naming delle variabili, i contenuti dei commenti, la stesura delle macro del preprocessore rappresentano la valvola di sfogo dello sviluppatore, che in qualche modo dovrà pur esternare il proprio malumore. O il proprio pensiero circa un collega. O la propria bastardaggine:

#define private public

Per approfondire, date una letta qui.