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Post Info TOPIC: BL is the critic´s darling


a grateful fan

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BL is the critic´s darling


I guess you´ve already posted all this. But it´s a pleasure to read it again and again, huh? *wink*

http://www.nola.com/movies/index.ssf/2009/09/back_when_a_bootleg_trailer.html


http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/17/movies/17festival.html?_r=1&ref=movies

http://movie-critics.ew.com/2009/09/15/bad-lieutenant-nicolas-cage/

http://www.nj.com/entertainment/tv/index.ssf/2009/09/toronto_day_4_the_return_of_ni.html


http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2009/09/tiff_7_it_was_a_very_good_day.html


http://boxoffice.com/reviews/2009/09/bad-leiutenant-port-of-call-new.php

http://www.cinematical.com/2009/09/14/the-bad-lieutenant-port-of-call-new-orleans-movie-review/#comments


Sunday Main Book - Arts
Goats, iguanas, and a great big dash of American glitz
Jonathan Romney
906 palabras
13 de septiembre de 2009
INDOS
1ST
54,55
inglés
(c) 2009 Independent News & Media PLC

Arts | And where else could you see Jane Birkin walk a tightrope? Venice Film Festival VENICE

There was little competition for the oddest sight at the Venice Film Festival this year: the monumental colonnades of the Mussolini-era Casino draped with huge banners of Buzz Lightyear and Woody the Cowboy - a tribute to animator John Lasseter and his Pixar colleagues winning a Golden Lion Lifetime Achievement award. At Cannes, such a sight would elicit much angst about the dangers of Hollywoodisation, but Venice has always had a penchant for US glitz, and no one worries about such things here.

In fact, this year's festival felt like a pretty healthy sprawl of world cinema. I haven't been to the Lido for 12 years - back then it seemed indecently sleepy - and last year's selection was generally considered thin pickings. But the mood among critics this year was positive, and, if heavily American, the festival wasn't too mainstream.

George Clooney, pictured right, and Matt Damon might have been the starriest guests, but as paparazzi magnets, they were outranked by Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez, who came to support Oliver Stone's documentary South of the Border - fair enough, since the film was essentially an advert for Chavez and other politicos steering Latin America to the left. Stone's film wasn't exactly objective - he does like to be photographed playing football with the great and the good - but it was a necessary tilt at US media paranoia, and more informative than Michael Moore's Capitalism: A Love Story. A personal account of the economic crisis, Capitalism was bluff business-as-usual from Big Mike, if not exactly brimming with hard info about the sub-prime phenomenon. Both films, though, were watchable, feisty and timely polemics.

The other big US products were comedies. Matt Damon got to grandstand likeably as a corporate mole in Steven Soderbergh's The Informant!, but - as that exclamation mark tells you - the tone was teeth-gratingly flip.

Clooney and Jeff Bridges sent themselves up affably in Grant Heslov's The Men Who Stare at Goats, inspired by Jon Ronson's book about wacko US psy-ops projects, but the satire was just that bit less side-splitting than it needed to be. (And, for my money, there just weren't enough goats.)

In competition, some auteurs were on top form: Claire Denis's White Material, with Isabelle Huppert as a coffee planter caught up in an African civil war, showed the director at her apocalyptic best. And old master Jacques Rivette turned in an uncharacteristically light (and short!) circus comedy, Around a Small Mountain: not everyone liked it, but it was a sweet philosophical miniature, not to mention a rare opportunity to see Jane Birkin walk a tightrope.

The biggest surprises came in not one but two features by Werner Herzog. A mystery slot in the programme turned out to be his new film My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done, a wildly eccentric comedy-drama with Willem Dafoe investigating a suburban hostage situation: the Oresteia, pet flamingos and white-water rafting figure prominently in a film appropriately prefaced by the credit "David Lynch Presents". Stranger still, in a different way, was Herzog's first stab at American noir, the awkwardly titled The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. The connection with Abel Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant was tenuous, but Nicolas Cage's corrupt, drug-addled cop was arguably even more damaged than Harvey Keitel in the original. Anyone who feared Cage was mellowing in middle age could take solace in his deranged and hugely enjoyable repertoire of tics, shrieks and freak-out moments. The film - which felt like a very sweaty, very sleazy Elmore Leonard adaptation - wasn't obviously Herzogian, except for the gratuitous cameos of several iguanas, which Herzog confessed he'd put in the film because "they just look so stupid".

Among contenders for the Golden Lion award, two lead the field along with White Material. One is Lebanon, an audaciously conceived Israeli war drama set entirely inside a tank, which manages to make combat look at once hellish and extremely claustrophobic. The other is Women Without Men, a first feature by Iranian video artist Shirin Neshat. The film follows the lives of several women during turmoil in early 1950s Tehran, and mixes political realism with a dream-like narrative, painstakingly complex mise-en-scène and the stark, stylised images of Iranian life that are Neshat's trademark. It's a haunting, ambitious film and as convincing a career adjustment as Steve McQueen's Hunger last year.

As for Italian cinema, there was a lot of it, but the only film that really bowled people over - and arguably the fest's real find - was Io Sono l'Amore (I Am Love), a somewhat operatic melodrama by Luca Guadagnino which managed to be at once austere and swooningly opulent.

Tilda Swinton, pictured left, is first elusive, then magnetic as a woman married into a hyper-wealthy Milan family, who falls ruinously for a young chef.

Boldly and exuberantly directed, the film is set to the music of John Adams, giving it an intensity that finally vaults into the realms of Greek tragedy. And the moment of great dramatic revelation is triggered by a bowl of soup: a first in film history, surely?



Feature
War and drugs in the cross hairs At festival, tank gunners in Lebanon and police gone to the dark side
By Roderick Conway Morris
International Herald Tribune
1222 palabras
11 de septiembre de 2009
INHT
1
9
inglés
© 2009 The New York Times Company. All Rights Reserved.

VENICE-- "On June 6, 1982, at 6:15 a.m., I killed a man for the first time in my life," writes Samuel Maoz in the notes to "Lebanon," which he wrote and directed. This powerful and original film held its premiere in competition at the Venice Film Festival, which closes with the presentation of the Golden Lion and other prizes on Saturday night.

Mr. Maoz was 20 years old when he took part in the Israeli invasion of Lebanon as a tank gunner in 1982, and he says he came back a changed person.

It has taken him many years to confront his experiences there, but he has now succeeded in turning them into an astonishing piece of cinema. The film is not an exact account of what happened to him, but a semi-fictional narrative based on it.

"Lebanon" begins when Shmuel, a new gunner, joins a tank crew of three other young conscripts sent across the border into the south of the country as artillery backup to an elite detachment of paratroopers making their way northward after a devastating Israeli airstrike designed to clear their path.

Almost the entire action of the film is shot from within the claustrophobic, seeringly hot, deafeningly noisy interior of the tank. What is going on outside is seen intermittently through the telescopic viewfinder and cross hairs of the gunner's sights, which move cumbersomely up and down and from side to side with the tank's heavy hydraulic turret.

This viewpoint renders the external mayhem, to which the tank is contributing, both remote and ghastly in its magnified detail.

Every person who comes into focus in the cross hairs of the gunsight - from an old Arab man staring defiantly back and a distraught woman staggering into the street from a shelled apartment block, to masked Arab fighters and the Israeli paratroopers - is framed as a potential target, with only split seconds for the gunners to decide whether or not to fire.

A Syrian soldier is captured and confined inside the tank, but amid the confusion the unit has strayed out of reach of Israeli air support.

Instructed to rely on a couple of Christian Phalangist militiamen to lead them back to safety, the major in command defies orders, suspecting the Phalangists of wanting only to lay their hands on the Syrian prisoner.

Then the tank becomes separated from the paratroopers. While the tank itself is a death-dealing machine, it could also at any moment become a fiery death-trap for the young men manning it, and their fear is palpably conveyed.

The four actors who play the tank crew - Yoav Donat, Itay Tiran, Oshri Cohen and Michael Moshonov - put in a superb ensemble performance.

Zohar Strauss as the paratrooper Major Jamil and Reymonde Amsellem as a Lebanese mother caught up in the fighting are no less convincing. The imaginative and creative design and cinematography, by Ariel Roshko and Giora Bejach, respectively - achieved on a low budget - transform the dark, oily, suffocating interior of the tank, its black walls streaming with condensation, into a sinister, almost live presence in the action.

This is a film above all about what it is like to take part in combat, though it does not shrink from showing an appalling number of civilian casualties. Like the vast majority of all who have fought in wars through the ages, the conscript tank crew have no time to consider the rights and wrongs of this particular conflict but are simply trying to survive.

The production is courageous, too, in depicting an operation that goes badly wrong and the desperation of a group of soldiers, both veterans and raw conscripts, who feel they have been abandoned to their fate by their superiors when they are told over the radio to improvise as best they can to make their escape. The audacious and unpredictable way "Lebanon" tells its story will give future filmmakers much to think about when trying to depict the realities of war on screen.

Violence of a much more cinematically conventional variety is featured in two American productions.

Brooklyn's Finest Antoine Fuqua had the premiere of his "Training Day" - the tale of a rooky cop who finds himself assigned to a corrupt drug-squad officer - at Venice in 2001 (winning the best actor award for Denzel Washington, who went on to win an Oscar, for his role as the rogue officer). The junior cop was played by Ethan Hawke, and he is back in Venice out of competition with Mr. Fuqua's "Brooklyn's Finest," set and shot in one of the borough's roughest housing projects.

Once again the story revolves around drugs and police corruption. The cast also includes Richard Gere as Eddie, a burnt-out case about to retire; Wesley Snipes (who won best actor in Venice in 1997 in "One Night Stand") as Caz, a drug baron; and Don Cheadle as Tango, an undercover cop.

Eddie is just trying to keep out of trouble during his last few days of duty after 22 years on the job, which is clearly not going to happen after the fatal police shooting of a hard-working black college student has enraged the population of the project. But the most suspenseful of several intertwining plots is that of Tango, edgily played by Mr. Cheadle, who has infiltrated the upper echelons of the drug business and is at constant risk of being exposed.

The dialogue and settings have an authentic air, but feature films of this genre now face a great deal of competition from slick TV dramas like "The Wire" (actors from which also feature here). And the body count at the end does seem a trifle implausible.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans Werner Herzog's in-competition film, from a wacky screenplay by William Finkelstein, is very loosely based on the 1992 "Bad Lieutenant" by Abel Ferrara (whom Mr. Herzog has claimed never to have heard of). The action has relocated south from New York, and drugs are once again the mainspring: Nicolas Cage, as Terence McDonagh, and his prostitute girlfriend Eva Mendes (who got her first break in "Training Day"), have an insatiable appetite for them.

McDonagh has injured his back and earned a promotion by saving a prisoner who has been forgotten in the cells as the floodwaters of Hurricane Katrina rapidly rise. Hunched and stiff-moving, Mr. Cage gives a compelling impression of a man in constant pain. Punctuated with crazed outbursts fueled by ****tails of prescription and illegal drugs, his performance is manic even by his own standards, leading to some wild and funny scenes.

Mr. Herzog and Mr. Finkelstein have fun satirizing the clichés of the bad-cop genre, the violence is comic-book style and the denouement a tremendous send-up of the Hollywood happy ending.

**

CAPTION

Clockwise from top, Richard Gere (left) and Ethan Hawke in "Brooklyn's Finest," directed by Antoine Fuqua; Oshri Cohen (left) and Itay Tiran in Samuel Maoz's "Lebanon"; and Nicolas Cage and Eva Mendes in "Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans" by Werner Herzog.



-- Edited by mara on Sunday 20th of September 2009 02:55:57 PM

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