Venne una Carmelitana labbra di biacca, mezza bianca mezza nera, cosce chiare e pizzi viola, parole di scirocco. Venne Benda Rossa dei Pirati lingua fra i denti di riso, non parlava ma, Dio, sapeva camminare, culo di colomba. Venne una donna rara, una che regalava, guardava dritti gli occhi, e buona mercanzia, sudore di letto caldo. Venne una donna vera col ventre al posto giusto e labbra di farfalla, delirio di una notte senza sonno.
Vennero Labbra Rosse di una solitudine stanca. La donna abbandonata e triste che. In only seven nights I erased the memories. In only seven days I changed face. I worked hard at it. When the new man that I was walked out into the street, an orchestra played, and the sun put on a show in red. The city, half was going crazy and the other half had locked itself in, afraid. People have fun at being scared. The new man aimed his colors and decided to pass. In this, he was a courageous man. There came a Carmelite with leaden white lips, half white half black, pale thighs and purple lace, sirocco words.
The new man replied no. There came a rare woman, with many gifts, she gazed straight into your eyes, and good merchandise, the sweat of a warm bed. There came a real woman with a womb in the right place and butterly lips, delirium of a sleepless night. Of course, he said no. The new man that I was did not look at women. Neither lace nor sirocco. Neither roses nor apple nor seawater. Neither tongue nor ass nor gifts nor bed scents, wombs nor butterly lips.
The new man that I was knew his road: There came Red Lips of a tired solitude. The abandoned and sad woman who. I followed her through the alleyways of the city, the new man in heat; they brushed hands at the corner, livid car lights, a step from home. This is how it happened: Solita storia di donna abbandonata, i pianti e le sfortune. La stanza divenne azzurra di sorrisi, e calda di letto. Ben presto, il miracolo fu fatto: Pose lui, il prezzo: Aveva labbra rosse ributtanti di una zingara.
Comprava anime, per strada, e non pagava il prezzo. Per imporre rispetto e cominciare bene, come si conviene, e un poco a modo mio. Quel sax, non smette di suonare. The new man ran after her down humid stairs, down to the lair of past love and resentments. He lay his head down, softly, listening. The usual story of abandoned woman, the tears and misfortunes. The new man invented bells, and laughter. The room turned bright blue with smiles, and warm like a bed. Soon, the miracle happened: The new man, who works free for no-one, asked to be paid for the restored soul and the spent effort.
He set the price: She burned the open hand that held her, vendetta. She bought souls, in the streets and did not pay. The old night porter, there at the hotel front desk, I crushed his glasses into his eyes. Oh, the perfume, the smell of the hotel, so much scent of woman, the adulteress leeing and forgetting her goodbyes, the sound of water running and alleviating the pain of slap, doors broken down by the cuckold husband, gun shots, the blonde dying on the stairs. That sax still playing. When the new man that I was went out into the streets, an or- chestra played and the sun put on a show in red.
She is a poet and literary translator, writing both in English and Italian. Her poems are found in numerous literary magazines and websites in Italy and abroad, as well as in many thematic and group anthologies, the most recent of which are Varianti urbane ; Sempre ai conini del verso: Since she has been a member of the Compagnia delle poete and with them has performed in various Italian and foreign cities. She was for many years English-language translator for El Ghibli, a website specialized in immigrant writing in Italian.
Selected Poems of Mia Lecomte, Toronto Robustelli, the anthology Corporea: Mia Lecomte lives between Rome and Paris. Her poems have been published in Italy and abroad, in poetry magazines and anthologies including InVerse. In Guernica Editions has published her bilingual poetry anthology For the Maintenance of Landscape. A translator from French, Mia Lecomte is a critic and editor in the ield of comparative literature, especially as regards trans- national literature.
She edited the anthologies Ai conini dei verso. Poesia della migrazione in italiano , Sempre ai conini del verso. The Poetry of Migrant Writers in Italy ; she frequently lectures on this subject in Italy and abroad. She is on the editorial board of the bi-annual journal of com- parative poetry Semicerchio and of various online literary sites, including the tri-monthly El-Ghibli. She is a contributor to Italian edition of Le Monde Diplomatique.
Studiato malamente , bevuto molto, pesante , mi ero drogato meno, leggero , non mi ero mai innamorato non sono un tipo passionale e per questo avevo sposato la donna giusta una qualsiasi. When a few years ago it seems like only yesterday they made the proposal I was to tell the truth taken aback: And I accepted, even willingly after all, what else could I have done?
And at the time the proposal seemed quite attrac- tive or anyway not outrageous. What had I done before my middle age? No children there was still time , or friends even more time or even a ixed home, really. Allora lasciano un messaggio nella nostra segreteria telefonica voce preregistrata di confezione, onestamente impersonale: Richiameranno o vuole dire che non era il caso. Due giorni dopo si rifanno vivi era il caso, almeno per loro.
It all happened without any warning a sort of luckless lucky stroke. A winter afternoon the light irremediably gone. They call but no one is at home, neither my wife nor I no other humans around. Two days later they turn up again it was worthwhile, at least for them. The speciied publishers ix an appointment for the following week time and place certain. And the week goes by with me being normally convinced half-way between the worst expectations and the highest hopes. I forgot to say I always for- get this that besides conversation, cinema and sex, and reading, in those days and now, too, unfortunately I devoted myself to writing the irst thing I devoted myself to, actually, throughout the great void punctuating my existence.
A superluous devotion, the depositary of vague cinematographic ambitions in the most Hollywoodian sense: Belli, interessanti, con ottime pubblicazioni anche il suo autore preferito, una prosa assolutamente originale, innovativa. Alle pareti premi, locandine e qualche foto di scrittori famosissimi i mostri sacri del secolo, gli unici con una faccia adatta a competere con la propria opera. Prego, mi vuole seguire? Quando sono entrato ho subito notato che il verde era cambiato in blu in evoluzione cromatica e bluette regressa.
Ridevo tra me sulla strada del ritorno, in autobus verso il mio quartiere, al sicuro. Ma poi a chi altro lo potrei raccontare? E a cosa mi servirebbe raccontarlo? Attractive, interesting, with excellent works even his favorite author, an absolutely original, innovative prose style. Folded into a green cloth armchair hopeful , he was thinking about the errands in wait for him that afternoon all near the house he lived in, he never risked leaving the neighborhood when someone — not the same woman as before, another just as lawless a deliberate display of the ideal igure — came to call him.
Excuse me, would you mind following me? And a long hallway with a lot of closed doors, the last on the right waiting for me who knows since when. As soon as I entered I noticed that the green had changed to blue chromatic evolution and azure regression. And that the desk was too large for the bald little man sitting behind it an newborn baby abandoned on the church stairs. Then I had no more time to notice anything, concentrated as I was on the proposal being made. I was taken aback and surprised on the contrary and also highly amused that was the main reason I accepted.
I laughed to myself all the way home on the bus going back to my own neighborhood, to safety. Who knows when I tell my wife Yes, but only her. I was not allowed to tell anyone else or the con- tract would be cancelled a fairly generous one, I have to say. But then, who else could I tell? And what use would telling be? And gradually the light-hearted disbelief which also held a bit of pride, and why not gave way to inexorable weariness my weariness , a damp hole dug just beneath the foundations of consciousness the bottom hidden by darkness.
And so when I got home I said nothing to my wife I lit a cigarette and sat down in front of the television. And she still knows nothing and never will. E ma da anni ho un nuovo lavoro e la stessa casa. Mia moglie pensa che io scriva pudichi sfoghi post-post-post e mi lascia tranquillo. Col tempo sono diventato piuttosto bravo, perfettamente integrato con la sua prosa pensiero la sua seconda voce, a cappella , fuso con la sua musica perfettamente in controtempo.
E forse, poco a poco, sto cominciando a sperare anche in altro comincia a non bastarmi. Ci sono molti altri aspetti del periodo, appunto. Se esistono gli scrittori e i loro libri. Esiste almeno un solo scrittore? Everything is quiet, in a word, apparently which is what counts. One of these days I have to ind the courage to mentionit to those in charge those who have shown themselves to be.
Others just like me in every way except for their jobs, perhaps, after all a sentence has many other aspects. If writers and their books exist. Does at least one writer exist? Unknowable, by contract a note in boldface at the bottom of the page. To relect, with you, on my time, to give it through your eyes and your thoughts the signiicance, the importance that together we believe in.
Una luce gelatinosa si sta riversando molle sulle colline intorno, riverbera i proili inanimati. Se tu fossi qui con me, fra poco po- tremmo avviarci, entrare pieni di speranza e allegria in questa terra per uomini nuovi. Ci siamo conosciuti tardi, troppo per il vecchio che sono al cospetto della tua giovinezza consolatoria, riparatrice, che avevo atteso per tutta la vita. Subito, senza appello, dopo che per mesi ci eravamo trovati costretti a dividere con altri quello che insieme avremmo meravigliosamente moltiplicato.
Un privilegio per pochi eletti. Anche se quando sono stato chiamato, suppongo di essere stato chiamato, non ero nella condizione di valutare cosa sarebbe successo: Lavoravano a turni, giorno e notte, instancabili. Come schiavi sulla soglia ormai ultimata della tomba del faraone, ostacolo estremo al riscatto di una vita ultraterrena degna di questo nome, anche qui erano in gioco vita e morte, an- che se in ordine rovesciato. Non lo sapevano, ovviamente. This letter is doubtlessly gratuitous, yet another gesture from the gratuitous man you know, but it is important to be together once again in the only way that has been granted us so far.
This is how I can be sure that somewhere you are waiting for me, and therefore I am waiting for you somewhere, too. I beg you to remember this, to remind me of this, because it is this that keeps me alive, with you. A gelatinous light is spread softly over the surrounding hills, re- lecting inanimate forms.
If you were here with me, soon we could set out, full of hope and high spirits as we enter this land meant for new men -- the land of salvation, a salvation not at all worthy of the name, since without you it is not fair. But nothing has ever been fair for us. My surprise at so much happiness made me uncertain, hesitant, until someone else decided for me. Immediately, without appeal, after months during which we were forced to share with others what you and I together could have multiplied, gloriously.
But multiplications are part of a wholly other sphere of miracles, like immaculate conceptions, where lesh, matter itself, is satisied and renewed. A privilege for the chosen few. I have been chosen, if indeed I have been chosen, for languor and amputation. Even if when I was called, and I suppose I was called, I was in no condition to imagine what might happen.
With your family, legitimate wife and children, and all the species of animals, in pairs. The only ones meant to loat. Considering how urgent it was, I merely concerned myself with putting pressure on the workers. They worked in shifts, day and night, tirelessly. This time, though, not only would they not enjoy the fruit of their labor, but the future was passing through their hands without involving them. Like slaves on the threshold of the inished tomb of the pharaoh, the inal obstacle to the redemption of an afterlife worthy of the name, here as well life and death were at play, though in reverse order.
Il comando era stato chiaro, per tutti noi. Moglie legittima e igli, animali accoppiati. Era un comando, tesoro mio, ti prego di ricordarlo. Ma non ti ho mai lasciata, e non ho mai capito. Ho dovuto tenere fede a una vocazione, un impegno assoluti, senza ricordare alcuna vocazione, di aver piegato il capo ad alcun impegno. I lavori sono durati mesi, lunghi mesi a incolpare me stesso di non avere avuto il coraggio di difenderti, da cosa non mi era chiaro, di stupirmi, spaventarmi, arrabbiarmi, ribellarmi o dubitare.
Non ti potevo mettere in salvo, neppure avvisare, e morivo ogni giorno un poco, prima di te. Sono rimasto da solo nella rimessa deserta, seduto nel buio. E ho telefonato anche a te. The com- mand had been clear, for all of us. Legitimate wife and children, animals in couples.
It was a command, my darling, I beg you to remember that. After which, there was nothing left for me but to leave you, day after day, trying to understand. I had to be faithful to a calling and a commitment, absolute, though I remembered neither any call- ing nor bowing my head to any commitment. Day after day I was there scrupulously making sure everything was being done according to plan. Why did I never worry about them, the terrible fate of my so-called fellowmen, the anonymous distant ones as well as those close to me, relatives, friends, colleagues, acquaintances?
There was only you, there is only you. And then one evening everything was ready. How proud my workers were of the result! And everyone complimented me on the elegance of line, the cutting-edge technology, the solidity, the roominess and comfort inside. I was left alone in the empty boathouse, sitting in the dark.
And then I called my wife and children to tell them to join me there. And I called you, too. Every single word we spoke is indelibly en- graved in my mind.
Journal of Italian Translation, Vol. XI, No. 1, Spring | Luigi Bonaffini - theranchhands.com
Quando sono arrivati mia moglie e i ragazzi avevo preparato loro una sorpresa: Mi aveva aiutato, come sempre, la devota allestitrice tecnica delle nostre scenograie domestiche, da quindici anni grata del nostro affetto e felice di farci felici. Che ora stavo miseramente tradendo.
Soltanto al suo termine avrei avvisato il cliente che la sua committenza era stata ultimata. Il quale invece sapeva tutto, e lasciava che salutassi colpevole quella donna che si allontanava verso casa, dopo cena, con le mani arse dal detersivo e il sacco della pattumiera rigonio, i capelli che con gli anni si erano fatti stopposi, radi.
Poi siamo andati tutti a letto. Era tardi, troppo tardi. Al buio di quella notte che prevedevo sarebbe durata a lungo, pur ignorando quel che sarebbe potuto esattamente accadere, per quanto, se potesse dirsi davvero notte, se ne sarebbero seguite ancora altre, e giorni. Fino ad allora mi ero attenuto a tutte le disposizioni che mi spettavano e ora potevo inalmente riposarmi, smettere di obbedire e di interrogarmi, po- tevo dimenticare.
Non avevo che da dormire, dovevamo dormire tutti, e la salvezza si sarebbe crudelmente compiuta. Only couples of every pedigreed species, oficially recognized ones it to reproduce with immaculate continuity. That was the last time we spoke. And now I was despicably betraying her. The customer, of course, knew everything in fact, and permitted me to say a guilty good-bye to that woman as she started off for home after dinner, hands reddened by dish-washing detergent, burdened by a bag full of garbage to be disposed of, her hair grown coarse and stringy with the passing of years.
Then we all went to bed. It was late, too late. I lay in the darkness of that night, which I expected to be a long one. I had only to sleep, we all had to sleep and our salvation would come, cruelly. My wife mumbled in her sleep, turning her back to me.
E il tuo gemito sordo, nel ricevitore, prima del silenzio attento e del campanello. La linea interrotta, il richiamo a vuoto e inine il sonno, assoluto, terribile, la scomparsa del mio, del nostro mondo. Di iati, pelo, pelli, escrementi, urina, di sudore e sangue e acqua putrida. Ed eccomi qui, un naufrago aggrappato al relitto di queste mie parole a te, le prime che sono in grado di pronunciare, in re- ligioso silenzio.
The interrupted line, the useless attempt to call back, and inally sleep, absolute, terrible, the disappearance of my, of our, world. And it all was accomplished on its own, saving me. In my confused and violent sleep I could hear the din of the animals climb- ing in the part of the ship reserved for them, moving and pushing to get on top, kicking and balking, their cries mixed and blending into a single howl of surprise and terror, joined by the shouts of other species and plants, high and low, a bray, a roar, all strictly paired, voices getting further and further away.
At a certain point I thought I heard our cat, only once, faintly, then nothing. Of skin, hair, breath, excrement, urine, sweat and blood, of putrid water. Then a violent boom, a crash, and suddenly the boat climbed up, as though lifted by an extraordinary wave, pushed upwards in a sudden continuous motion. And here I am, a castaway clutching at the wreck of my words to you, the irst I am able to pronounce, in devout silence.
The oth- ers are still asleep, if we can call it sleep, or what follows a real awakening, and I miss you, I feel nothing else. Only your absolute absence, the only presence ever granted me by love. And I know you will be more and more present now, being here less and less.
But then another farewell and another salvation will bring me back to myself, to the full privilege of be- ing the survivor. I look out of the glass in front of me and try to ind a direction. From where I am, above the horizon line, so far I can only follow the proile of a giant shadow over a landscape as yet vague. Giace di sbieco, adagiata sul ianco, in una pozza di luce e acqua melmosa. Le capriate reggono la volta celeste di un gioco, la sua cupola trasparente.
A huge boat, abandoned in shallows of stagnant water, on its side in a ray of sun. Or perhaps there is no water, perhaps the joists are still holding up the hull and around it there are the footprints of the workers in the dust around the keel. Or perhaps there is no boat. The trusses support is the heav- enly vault of a toy, its transparent dome, smooth to the hand, with fake wreckage inside. When you shake it, as light as snow it loats up from the bottom, to fall back down and begin anew the artiicial storm that everything has survived. The man unable to say good- bye once again, and his illusion of salvation.
He is the author of an online course, The Literature of Sicily: He is currently working towards the comple- tion of his Ph. He teaches Italian culture and language at Monash as a teaching associate. With Annamaria Pagliaro he is editing a forthcoming, bilingual volume of collected essays on new approaches to Capuana studies. After entering the literary scene in with the short story Doctor Cymbalus, his proliic production, lasted for over four decades and comprised ive novels, seven major collections of es- says and several collections of short stories, plays and fairy tales.
He explored varying literary territories such as the psychological novel and the novella fantastica going beyond the fairly restrictive naturalist image traditionally associated to his igure. His widely recognized masterpiece, Il marchese di Roccaverdina has appeared in English in Trans. Most of his major creative as well as critical works remain untranslated. I due amici si abbracciarono affettuosamente.
Aveva bisogno di lui. Ma siedi; fumiamo una pipa. Inine si va in capo al mondo e si ritorna. Il silenzio di William lo sorprese. Ma parliamo di cose serie. Sono qui per un affare di grave interesse. Lost in the immensity of a problem of advanced metaphysics, he had fallen asleep and had been snoring for more than an hour when he was abruptly awoken by an insistent knock- ing at the door. There appeared a large bonnet, into which was sunk the wrinkled old head of an old woman.
The two friends embraced affectionately. Had he arrived that day? Usinger placed a fat sealed envelope on the table. Anyway, one goes to the end of the earth and comes back. Ida sposa un altro. Tu che mi scrivevi di amarla tanto? Tu vuoi dimenticare, tu vuoi Due donne non mi usciranno mai dal cuore: Ida is marrying someone else.
You, who wrote to me that you loved her deeply? Two women will always be in my heart: I have undeniable proof. Without family, without love, without hope, without illusions, what use is there to stay here among you people? There you can heal your heart. As soon as I embark, I no longer mean to be alive for any- one here, that is in three or four days. William, pallidissimo, faceva grandi sforzi per contenersi.
Trattienti almeno un paio di giorni! Mi hai fatto proprio piacere. Dove sei tu alloggiato? Staremo insieme ino a stasera. Che io arrivi a tempo! Hermann had tears in his eyes. William, extremely pale, was making great efforts to contain himself. But stay at least a couple of days! In fact, I wanted to mail you the envelope to save time, but I changed my mind. I wanted to embrace you before leaving Europe.
Where are you staying? When Hermann Strauss was alone, he lit his large pipe, he lowered his fox skin beret over his forehead, crossed his arms, and for some time remained absorbed, with his eyes ixed on the bust of Hegel in front of him. All of a sudden, he roused himself, grabbed the envelope, broke the seal, and took out the single sheet of paper, on which something was written.
But before he could read half a page, he let out a scream. The Blaue Stern was located on the other side of the city. Herman crossed an alley, turned a corner, came upon a small square, made his way along two other dark and twisting lanes, exited onto the main street, and then went straight, running breath- lessly, without caring that people stopped and gaped at him.
By the time he arrived at the door of the hotel, he was out of breath. Quei minuti di aspettazione parvero un secolo ad Hermann. Come raggiungerlo a tempo? Montarono le scale, silenziosi. Hermann rimase in piedi innanzi a lui. A woman about thirty years old appeared, a real peasant, blonde, fat, and greasy. The doorman gestured that Hermann should speak with her.
And she disappeared behind the doorway from which she had come. Those few minutes of waiting seemed like a century to Her- mann. Finally, Resi returned to tell him that Usinger had left early that morning and had not returned. How could he ind him? How could he reach him in time? Hermann stamped his feet, wrung his hands, and cursed, looking aimlessly here and there when, suddenly, Usinger ap- peared.
They climbed the stairs silently. Having entered the room, William tossed his traveling cap into a corner and fell into an easy chair. Hermann remained standing in front of him. Had he lost his mind? He scolded him affectionately. His duty as a friend. William stava a guardarlo stupito. William fece una mossa di offesa. Il dottor Cymbalus era seduto sopra una panca di legno con due bimbi sulle ginocchia.
Cosa resta da scoprire
Sorrideva, li accarezzava e rispondeva bonariamente alle vivaci domande di quelle due bionde testoline. Did he have a way to turn him cold and insensible, like marble? A light suddenly lashed as Usinger said those last words, and he embraced his friend warmly. William looked at him stupeied. Had his friend gone out of his mind?
But Hermann smiled, rubbing his hands together joyfully. Did he have enough courage to undergo a painful surgery? Did he take him for a child?
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Did he have the courage to undergo a painful surgery? Her- mann was asking this in all seriousness. To become as cold and insensitive as marble. Did he have enough courage? He had to answer. You certainly know, at least by reputation, Doctor Franz Cymbalus, one of the greatest, in fact, perhaps the greatest living physiologist. His discoveries on the nervous system are the most extraordinary conquests of modern science. He was my teacher, and he loves me. Cymbalus will save you. Does he live far away? Cymbalus was seated on a wooden bench with two chil- dren on his knees.
Smiling, he caressed them and responded good humoredly to the lively questions posed by those two adorable blonde heads. Per questo non siete meno il ben venuto in casa mia. William fece un profondo inchino. Il dottor Cymbalus gli stese la mano. Il dottore condusse i due ospiti nel suo gabinetto di studio, un caos di libri, di carte, di mappe, di strumenti, di boccette, di vasi, di cranii, di preparati anatomici, di scheletri umani.
Il dottore sedette su la poltrona dietro il suo tavolino. I due amici gli sedettero di faccia. Quella igura di vecchio scienziato era dolce e serena. Mentre Hermann raccontava, a grandi tratti, la dolorosa storia di William, il dottor Cymbalus teneva bassa la testa e gli occhi soc- chiusi; le sue labbra erano atteggiate a commiserazione profonda. William bowed deeply, and Dr. Cymbalus extended his hand.
We can discuss this more comfortably there -. The doctor led his two guests into his study, a chaos of books, papers, maps, instruments, small bottles, vases, skulls, anatomi- cal preparations, and human skeletons. On entering, Usinger felt shivers down his spine. The doctor sat on an armchair behind the desk. The two friends sat facing him. The countenance of the old scientist was both sweet and severe.
His broad forehead was streaked with deep furrows, his eyes lively and sparkling, notwithstanding the vigils made over half a century on behalf of science and humanity. His lips nearly always smiling, his manner composed, his voice exuding kindness, all revealed an elevated nature, one of those belonging to someone who knows he is superior and who draws from that knowledge the virtue of humility. Cymbalus with a touch of paternal irony. Cymbalus kept his head down and his eyes half closed. His lips expressed a profound commiseration. La mia vecchiezza e i miei studi mi autorizzano a tenervi questo linguaggio.
Fra gli uomini, nella vita civile e in quella della intelligenza, succede lo stesso. La materia si trasforma e trasforma, alla sua volta, quello che noi chiamiamo spirito, pensiero. Forse non avete mai provato la consolazione di beneicare i vostri simili My age and my studies allow me to use this kind of language. Your misfortunes are great, but you forget that Nature does not take from us without providing compensation.
Le ragazze si sentono in colpa e cominciano a pensare che dietro a quella sparizione possa davvero esserci Slender Man. E pensano che solo entrando in contatto con quell'essere mostruoso e misterioso possono sperare di riportare indietro Katie. Wan assieme al suo collaboratore Leigh Whannell riprende elementi da film vecchi e recenti per rielaborarli in modo unitario. Un uomo rimane chiuso in un ascensore mentre fuori un virus ha trasformato le persone in zombie. Claudio, un importante uomo d'affari, cinico e narcisista, una mattina, andando in ufficio per concludere un importante lavoro per la sua azienda, rimane bloccato in ascensore a causa di un guasto.
Un virus letale sta trasformando le persone in zombie, infetti dall'istinto omicida. In una prestigiosa scuola di danza di Berlino arriva una giovane americana, Susie Bannion, per un'audizione. La giovane danzatrice americana Susie Bannion arriva nel a Berlino per un'audizione presso la compagnia di danza Helena Markos nota in tutto il mondo.
Quando conquista il ruolo di prima ballerina Olga, che lo era stata fino a quel momento, accusa le dirigenti di essere delle streghe. Nel frattempo un anziano psicoterapeuta cerca di scoprire i lati oscuri della compagnia. Se non fosse che arriva un assassino mascherato a mietere stragi. Natalie, Brooke e i loro amici partecipano alla serata per assaporare la paura e vivere l'adrenalina con altre migliaia di persone. Il seguito dell'horror Unfriended , un film indipendente realizzato con un micro budget e prodotto da Timur Bekmambetov.
Un ragazzo scopre l'esistenza di una serie di file nel suo nuovo laptop. Una scoperta sconvolgente costringe una squadra di astronauti, a bordo di una stazione spaziale, a lottare per la sopravvivenza. In un futuro non lontano, una squadra internazionale di astronauti a bordo di una stazione spaziale sta cercando di risolvere una grave crisi energetica sulla Terra utilizzando una tecnologia sperimentale. Yes, it is very important.
If you are not lost with yourself how can you access to what you want? What do you think? It creates new relationships between bodies, between images. At the same time, the superimposition shows that there are areas unthinkable by the viewer that the film, however, can think. How did you choose to use the superimposition?
They are totally free, these films. I want to be totally free myself with the process of doing the films. But I like the movie a lot. It is very strange. This interview is in English: A cura di Lorenzo Baldassari. Domande a cura di L. In un certo senso, credo che possiamo filmare soltanto forze; possiamo filmare solo il Reale. Non sento di appartenere o di essere vicino a nessuna corrente in particolare.
Hai un mondo nella tua testa e tenti di avvicinarti a questo mondo con tutta la forza che puoi. Non mi interessa minimamente. Per me, la maggior parte delle immagini nasce dal sonoro. Il sonoro mi porta alle immagini. Per Un lac [id. Ebbene, abbiamo messo la musica di Vega in macchina e abbiamo viaggiato con la musica di Vega praticamente per tutto il tempo, e ad un certo punto era come se la musica facesse parte del film. Sono due momenti differenti.
Quando rifletti sul cinema, sul progetto, puoi avere un approccio molto teorico. Giro molto rapidamente, non faccio mai prove, non ripeto le scene, prendo la macchina da presa e giro direttamente. Giulio Cesare ha detto qualcosa di molto intelligente: Per Un lac , ad esempio, fu molto difficile trovare il lago. Io voglio essere dentro il corpo mentre questo desidera.
Devi cercare di essere vivo quando scrivi, filmi e monti. Per questo, credo che oggi dovremmo considerare il cinema in un modo completamente differente. Pensiamo ancora al cinema come se fosse il cinema del XX secolo… Con differenti momenti del processo del filmare, possiamo realizzare film in un modo totalmente nuovo. S empre a proposito del rapporto tra i corpo e la maniera in cui lei li filma, vorrei citare una riflessione di Stan Brakhage che reputo si adatti bene al suo cinema: Sono senza struttura, sono aperti….
Come possiamo avere accesso a questo momento delle nostre vite? Io faccio film per questo. Ad esempio, pensa alla questione della durata e del tempo: Per esempio, quando siamo di fronte a un dipinto di Rembrandt, il dipinto rende sensibile che cosa vuol dire essere un uomo. Attraverso il cinema, io cerco di avvicinarmi a questa sensazione. Talvolta non ci riesco: In un certo senso, stavo costruendo il mio paesaggio, e per farlo devo lavorare dentro di esso.
Per questo, non volevo vedere nessuna immagine del film. Solo dopo aver girato, alla fine, ho guardato le immagini, ma quando giravo non guardavo i rulli, non volevo. Vorrei parlare adesso del suo rapporto con la narrazione. A mio parere, in nessuno dei suoi film di finzione avviene un azzeramento completo di narrazione. Lei considera i suoi film di finzione anti-narrativi? Quanto la reputa importante? Puoi costruire il mondo che desideri con questa storia semplice.
Ho bisogno di avere davanti a me un volto, una mela; ma che davanti a me ci sia un volto, oppure una mela, non fa nessuna differenza. Ma apprezzo particolarmente anche Mulholland Drive [ Mulholland Dr. No, non li ho visti. Per questo sembra naturale, troppo naturale, in un certo senso. Non ricordo molto quali furono i commenti quando il film fu presentato, ricordo che ha vinto un premio nella sezione Orizzonti. Io e Adachi abbiamo parlato dopo che lui ha visto La Vie nouvelle , che ha amato, credo. Ho visto le sue mani, ero vicinissimo.
Questo mi ha permesso di accedere al film, questa prima inquadratura delle sue mani; poi ho potuto inquadrare il suo viso. Sono stato in Congo, a Kinshasa, per un film, e quando sono tornato a casa ho scritto un testo. Un amico ha apprezzato molto il testo e mi ha consigliato di utilizzarlo per il teatro.
Ho subito cambiato idea: Bacon ha spiegato questo processo molto chiaramente, quando era di fronte a qualcosa che non conosceva, ma ciononostante cominciava a dipingere. In ogni caso, amo davvero molto questo film. Will it be presented at some festivals?
See a Problem?
After reading the plot it seems a return to the atmosphere of La Vie nouvelle and Sombre …. In generale, sente un rapporto fra il suo cinema e il Nuovo Cinema Estremo francese? Cosa ne pensa del rapporto del suo cinema con questa corrente? La forza del reale? Nel suo primo lungometraggio, Sombre [id. Questo, a mio avviso, oltre a dare compattezza ai suoi film, instaura un profondo rapporto tra filmico e pittorico.
Nelle sue interviste lei cita spesso autori chiave del post-strutturalismo Klossowski, Bataille, Lacan, Deleuze…. Questo mi induce a pensare che lei concepisca il cinema da un punto di vista molto teorico. Ma prima pensa molto…. Volevo dunque chiederle di parlare del suo rapporto con il non-visibile… e con il buio. Quale rapporto vorrebbe che si instaurasse tra i corpi del suo cinema e quello dello spettatore?
Vale la stessa cosa per il paesaggio? Vuoi essere dentro il paesaggio? Dunque pensa che il cinema possa riflettere su questo? Lei, durante le riprese de La Vie nouvelle , ha detto che ha girato il film senza guardare i rulli. Vorrei parlare un attimo de La Vie nouvell e.