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sexta-feira, 21 de julho de 2017

Resenha Crítica | Soundtrack (2017)

Há coisas incomuns rodeando o drama “Soundtrack”. Interpretado por Selton Mello, Cris desembarca em uma estação internacional de pesquisa no Ártico com o propósito de fazer um experimento fotográfico composto de selfies em paisagens gélidas. Já a princípio, notamos alguns indícios de instabilidade desse protagonista, que sente o ambiente que está habitando como se fosse um cego.
A verdade é que o sentimento de estranhamento é uma consequência da própria natureza da produção, sendo ela brasileira com características estrangeiras. Dirigido pela dupla 300ml (como preferem ser apresentados os publicitários Bernardo Dutra e Manitou Felipe, os mesmos do curta “O Código Tarantino”), “Soundtrack” é inteiramente falado em inglês, tem três intérpretes estrangeiros dos cinco que compõem o elenco e oferece uma premissa intimista que em nada reflete as pautas que movem a cinematografia nacional.
De algum modo, são escolhas que nebulam as verdadeiras motivações de um artista em terra estranha, com dois detalhes de sua vida que abrem um leque de possibilidades sobre o que se passa em seu interior. O primeiro vem a ser o fato da perda de uma mãe sem visão. Já o segundo, ilustrado por um flashback que dura segundos, há o contato com um homem em seu apartamento cuja identidade nunca é elucidada.
A princípio contrariado com a presença de Cris, Mark (o excelente Ralph Ineson, de “A Bruxa”) acaba tendo um fascínio por sua figura, exercendo uma função fraternal para um sujeito que desconhece o solo congelado que está pisando. Estabelece-se assim uma troca de experiências, com um compreendendo a função do outro mesmo tendo perfis por vezes antagônicos.
Há inconsistências em “Soundtrack”. Tecnicamente bem acabada, a produção é centrada em um estúdio que reproduz perfeitamente o cenário inspirado em locações na Islândia com toneladas de neve e computação gráfica, mas comete o erro primário de jamais colocar os intérpretes em uma temperatura de fato baixa para que possam soltar vapor condensado enquanto falam, condenando a ilusão sobre o lugar em que dizem estar. Também incomoda quando a música não é usada de modo homogêneo, com as suas inúmeras interrupções abruptas.
De qualquer modo, o interesse não se dissipa diante desses e outros pormenores, especialmente pelo interesse crescente que desenvolvemos diante dos protagonistas e a sensação que vivenciam de enclausuramento. Há também uma conclusão que engrandece a história, dando uma resolução extrema de um ofício que nem sempre preserva aquele que a executa intimamente.


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Scribe review – paranoid thriller can't deliver on promising premise

François Cluzet stars in this initially intriguing conspiracy thriller from first-time feature director Thomas Kruithof, a movie about the French far-right with the underlying paranoia of Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversationor Von Donnersmarck’s The Lives of Others. But inexorably, and perhaps inevitably, the movie can’t build on its atmospheric setup, and the neurosis becomes a pose. Cluzet plays the conscientious Duval, a man with a drinking problem who has been out of work since a breakdown two years ago. Out of the blue, he is recruited to work for a shadowy private security firm and employed to sit in a rented room all day, transcribing audiotapes of tapped phone conversations – using an old-fashioned typewriter because computers are not secure enough. Soon Duval realises that he is a small cog in a very sinister surveillance machine. But the whole business of the typewriter isn’t entirely convincing. Wouldn’t using thumb drives and a computer disconnected from the web be better, and produce more readily searchable documents? The film also fails to make this claustrophobic scenario connect up with the rough world outside. It doesn’t quite carry off its dramatic flourishes of violence, nor Duval’s growing relationship with a woman he met at AA — Sara, a sketchily written role for Alba Rohrwacher. A bit of style, but no substance.
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terça-feira, 18 de julho de 2017

Resenha Crítica | Mulher do Pai (2016)


Mulher do Pai, de Cristiane Oliveira
Muito além de uma fase de descobertas, a adolescência é também o momento em que os planos para o futuro começam a ser raciocinados, norteando decisões sobre vocação, família e independência. Mas nem todos conseguem traçar os próprios passos, muito pelo contexto em que estão inseridos.
Estreia de Cristiane Oliveira na condução de um longa de ficção, “Mulher do Pai” concentra em Nalu (Maria Galant) o peso de abrir mão de sua própria liberdade para exercer o papel praticamente de uma dona de casa. Isso acontece por conta do falecimento de sua avó Olga (Amélia Bittencourt), deixando como herança a responsabilidade de cuidar sozinha de seu pai cego Ruben (Marat Descartes) e da casa que habitam.
Ambientada na fronteira entre o Brasil e o Uruguai, a trama se apropria dessa geografia para tratar justamente das transições de Nalu, principalmente da inocência da juventude para a aridez do amadurecimento. São impasses lidados como dilemas no texto também assinado por Cristiane Oliveira, pois Nalu aos poucos vai percebendo a invasão de um espaço que anteriormente não tinha interesse em ocupar, dada com a intromissão de sua professora Rosario (Verónica Perrotta) como uma figura materna indesejada.
A melhor provocação feita por “Mulher do Pai” está em explorar os limites do relacionamento entre pai e filha. Há anos vivendo na escuridão e com garotas de programa ocupando secretamente a função de parceiras esporádicas, Ruben acaba respondendo de modo bem inadequado à puberdade de Nalu, trazendo tensão ao marasmo.
Lamentavelmente, é o máximo que o filme tem a oferecer em sua tentativa de sair do lugar comum. É como se o desencanto de Nalu por tudo que a cerca fosse traduzido com acontecimentos mal-ajambrados, como o relacionamento com um rapaz “de fora” e o destino ao qual ela finalmente opta por rascunhar.
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Resenha Crítica | Fala Comigo (2016)





Fala Comigo, de Felipe Sholl
No passado, não era visto como um escândalo o relacionamento de casais em que um componente tinha o dobro da idade de seu parceiro, especialmente se o mais velho fosse um homem. Já agora, em que a questão da maioridade tem mais ênfase na sociedade, uma união como tal passa por uma série de julgamentos, inevitavelmente incluindo a condição de pedofilia ou abuso.
No fim das contas, é mesmo possível existir o amor entre indivíduos com uma diferença de idade tão gritante? Poderia um adulto relevar a inexperiência de vida de um jovem para assim selarem uma união estável? Reconheceria o mais novo no mais velho algo uma figura protetora como um pai ou uma mãe?
A maior virtude de “Fala Comigo” está em nos fazer passar por esses e outros questionamentos a princípio sem meias palavras. Melhor: dirigido e roteirizado por Felipe Sholl, a história propõe uma inversão ainda mais polêmica para espectadores castos, pois aqui é uma mulher mais velha que inicia uma relação com um homem mais novo.
Diogo (o estreante Tom Karabachian, filho do músico Paulinho Moska e afilhado de Adriane Esteves) tem 17 anos e descobre a sua sexualidade com um jogo erótico perigoso. Ao acessar a lista de clientes de sua mãe psicanalista Clarice (Denise Fraga), ele faz ligações para Ângela (Karine Teles) e se masturba ao ouvir a sua voz, catalogando as experiências em A4 com o seu gozo – Sholl assumiu a influência vinda do personagem de Philip Seymour Hoffman em “Felicidade” para inserir em seu protagonista esse hábito privado.
Claro que em algum momento tal prazer secreto seria revelado e Diogo o faz ao finalmente saber com quem está lidando, uma mulher na faixa dos 40 anos deprimida com o fim de um casamento e com tendências suicidas. Ao intervir na tentativa de Ângela em tirar a própria vida, o garoto acaba sendo exposto, mas não como se espera, pois ela encontra em seu obsessor alguém com quem realmente pode ter uma nova chance no amor.
A princípio uma presença excessivamente secundária, a personagem de Denise Fraga vai aos poucos ganhando um destaque para dar voz àqueles que contemplam com estranheza esse amor que se forma. Ele é realmente inadequado, mas é também possível e complementar para o seu filho e a sua paciente.
É importante observar que Sholl, evidentemente torcendo para a felicidade de Diogo e Ângela, não trata a atração de seus personagens como um fetiche. Ao diretor de fotografia Leo Bittencourt (mais habituado inclusive a registros documentais, como “Morro dos Prazeres”), orienta que registre não os corpos se tocando, mas a reação de êxtase.
Pena que a conclusão de “Fala Comigo” seja o que há de menos complexo no todo. Despudorado na investigação da intimidade e incisivo no que se compreende sobre relacionamentos, a resolução para tudo é fácil demais para algo que estava se construindo com tantas barreiras.


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Edgar Wright, Alice Lowe, John Landis and Ben Wheatley on zombie king George A Romero

It’s fair to say that without George A Romero, I would not have the career I have now. A lot of people owe George a huge debt of gratitude for the inspiration. I am just one of many.
‘Profound influence’ … George A Romero on the set of Day of the Dead.
Without George, at the very least, my career would have started very differently. My future in film really started when I became firm friends with Simon Pegg while we were making Spaced and we realised that we were both obsessed with Dawn Of The Dead and George’s work.
I was infatuated with George’s work before I even saw it. Way before I was old enough to watch any of his movies I’d scour through horror and fantasy magazines for stills, posters and articles about them. By the time I finally did watch the likes of Night of the Living Dead, Martin, Dawn of the Dead, Creepshow, Day of the Dead, on VHS or late-night TV, I was a true devotee of all things Romero.
Later, after making SpacedSimon Pegg and I had this wild notion of making a film that took place in George’s universe, but with a distinctly deadpan north London response to his Pittsburgh zombie epics. The resulting film, Shaun of the Dead, would obviously not exist without the master himself, and when we completed the movie we decided to contact George and screen the film for him. To us, his was the only opinion that mattered.
‘Such a trip’ … Simon Pegg, left, and Edgar Wright preparing to cameo in Romero’s Land of the Dead.
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 ‘Such a trip’ … Simon Pegg, left, and Edgar Wright preparing to cameo in Romero’s Land of the Dead. Photograph: Edgar Wright
Universal screened the movie for George while he was on vacation in Florida. I remember being bemused that he watched the movie with a studio security guy in the theatre. As if George himself would pirate the movie! Even if he did, he would be more than due some profits from our cinematic valentine to him.
Later that night, George called us in London. He couldn’t have been warmer and kinder about the movie. I remember him saying that it was “an absolute blast”. That line became the sole poster quote for the movie in the US. I frequently think back to this moment of standing in my house as the moment my life truly changed and the world got smaller.
Over a year later George asked us to come to Toronto and appear in his new movie Land of the Dead. We had sent George a ‘Foree Electric’ name tag [from Shaun of the Dead] as a token of our gratitude for his poster quote on our movie and he was wearing it when we met. Meeting the man himself was just amazing; anyone who knew him will attest how funny, smart and genial he was. When we shot our brief cameo as “Photo Booth Zombies”, it was such a trip. We couldn’t believe we were being told what to do as zombies by the King of the Zombies himself. George actually had no notes and said: “You guys know what you are doing.”
‘Seismic impact’ … Romero’s Night of the Living Dead.
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 ‘Seismic impact’ … Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. Photograph: Alamy
The day after we shot our cameo, we had coffee in a Toronto hotel and he asked me and Simon what we were doing next. I replied that we were making a police action comedy. “Oh, not a horror, then?” he replied. “So you’re getting out.”
This was a telling statement, as there was always the sense that George had interests in film that stretched beyond the realm of horror. But even if he was pigeonholed somewhat, one of the reasons that his work resonates still is because of the fierce intelligence and humour behind it. His zombie films alone are the work of a major satirist, being highly vivid socio-political metaphors and sometimes better records of the years in which they were made than countless serious dramas. While genre films are often dismissed when people are talking about classic cinema, there is absolutely no denying the seismic impact his movies have had and continue to have in the world of film, TV, comics, video games and literature.
The last time I was in contact with him was last year when it was announced on the internet that he was to have a star in his honour on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. I emailed him to ask when the ceremony was because I wanted to go, and here is just part of his very droll and typically modest response:
So nice to hear from you. You are the first person of note to have responded to the announcement of my “Star” on the “Hollywood Walk of Fame”. If I had been given a date for the “ceremony”, I would certainly have passed it on to all who might have been amused. As of now there is no definite date. Once a date is determined I will alert you and my children who, at this point, seem to be the only amused parties … I fully appreciate that some day in the future one of my kids might be walking along Zambeezie Street in LA and wonder why his or her father has his name embedded beneath the dog shit. Thousands of people, stepping over that same dog shit, if they can decipher the time-crusted lettering, will ask, “Who the fuck is George Romero?” Only you and my children will know.
Thank you for knowing.Love, George
This was the last email I received from George. He is, as ever, being way too hard on himself. For just his very surname, Romero, immediately conjures more images and themes than 99% of writer/directors out there. I look forward to whenever they do lay down the star in his honour, but he is already is a bright shining beacon in the film universe.
RIP to the lovely George. Knowing your movies, I have a feeling you will be back.
Duane Jones in Night of the Living Dead.
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 Colour-blind casting … Duane Jones in Night of the Living Dead. Photograph: Alamy

Alice Lowe, director

At a time when a huge fuss is being made about a female Doctor, it’s notable that we’ve lost George Romero, who was making casting decisions that blew people’s minds way back in the 60s – witness his colour-blind casting of African American actor Duane Jones as the lead in Night of the Living Dead.
Romero was ahead of his time and his films about zombies and vampires were more than human, seeming to speak straight to the audience. He possessed the rare gift of being a filmmaker who seemed to be able to step outside of the mainstream with a prescient overview. His films were politically conscientious, skewering consumerism, racial prejudice and bigotry with their zombie metaphors, and he never disappointed in terms of practising what he preached. He was generous to a fault with his time, support and unwaning enthusiasm.
I hoped at some point I might meet him. Not from any belief in my own special destiny in this, but because he just was such an unbelievably active participant at so many events, horror cons, screenings, etc. But sadly, I will just have to content myself with the pleasure of re-viewing his films. And wondering what new thing I can learn from them.

John Landis, director

George Romero was a mensch. A kind and gregarious man, his influence on popular culture is profound.
Night of the Living Dead remains a milestone in the history of the horror film. Not only for the concept of what George called his “blue collar zombies”, but his casting of an African American to play one of the leads and the film’s shattering conclusion. To quote Walt Kelly, creator of the Pogo cartoon strip, “we have met the enemy and he is us”.
Horror, always a disreputable genre, is the perfect vessel for political comment and George’s films were always subversive and knowing. He had a wonderful sense of humour, and although sometimes bitter that he was a victim of his own success – he felt trapped that he was unable to get financing for other kinds of movies – he ultimately came to peace with being known as the King of the Zombies.
George was a sweet, smart and gifted man. His passing is a great loss. 

Ben Wheatley, director

Romero was a pioneer. He didn’t go to Hollywood and try to climb the greasy pole. He shot Night of the Living Dead outside the system. He showed that you could from a standing start, without Hollywood connections, create a genre virtually from scratch. If you are asking yourself, “How do you get to become a film director?”, best read up on George Romero.

Max Brooks, World War Z author

What make a true genius? Insight? The ability to see the same world as the rest of us but to understand so much more? Communication? What good is insight if you can’t explain your findings to others, to make us care, to make us think. George could do that. He took the seemingly lowest, silliest, crudest medium, the zombie movie, and used it to explain the state of humanity. He educated through entertainment. How many of us can do that? George A. Romero was, in the purest sense of the world, a genius.