This is turning out to be one hell of a week for cinema. Bergman yesterday, then Antonioni today.
Somebody please get Jean-Luc Godard to a hospital. Just in case.
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing wax -- Of cabbages -- and kings -- And why the sea is boiling hot -- And whether pigs have wings.
6 comments:
No scary predictions, please.
yeah, I second Ojas on this. Besides, what's that film which begins with Godard in the hospital? JLG/JLG? Or Prenom Carmen?
Someone please chart the life expectancy of commercial directors versus arthouse directors. I bet there's a correlation.
ojas: My apologies. My plan is to jinx bad things from happening by predicting them.
space bar: I think it was Prenom Carmen.
km: correlation? with what?
poetry on Antonioni, please. Sparse.
All I can muster is rip Rilke (and I don't even know if that is apt, but it feels so, so anyways...):
And at last, you saw yourself as a fruit, you stepped / out of your clothes and brought your naked body / before the mirror, you let yourself inside / down to your gaze; which stayed in front, immense, / and didn't say: I am that; no: this is. / So free of curiosity your gaze / had become, so unpossessive, of such true / poverty, it had no desire even / for you yourself; it wanted nothing: holy.
Death playing rapid chess?
He seems to have taken against "arthouse" this week, so Jean-Luc and Resnais better watch out.
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