Tag Archives: Giuseppe Tornatore

Take Me Somewhere Nice [2019)

Sara Luna Zorić.

The world is fucked up.

For two years we fought against medical tyranny.

We fought against killer vaccines.

And suddenly the narrative changed.

Completely.

The plandemic/scamdemic wiped out.

Like chalk off a blackboard.

This is a flawed masterpiece.

Like the dent in Sara Luna Zorić’s forehead.

This film is a masterpiece.

This film is an utter masterpiece.

And it is carried by Sara Luna Zorić’s breasts.

And legs.

And scowl.

And sadness.

And dented forehead.

This film is a masterpiece.

It ends like Pierrot le fou, in some ways.

It ends like Contempt.

It ends like Ghost World.

So can I be in love with Sara Luna Zorić now?

Yes.

Because the world is shit.

We must pick sides.

I pick Russia.

Fuck Ukraine.

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There is not a more propagandistic website on Earth than Drudge Report.

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Do you know what propaganda looks like?

“Putin doesn’t want his people to see images of the war.”

“Russian Air Force incapable of complex military operations (invasion failing).”

“Zelensky is the reincarnation of Rasputin.”

“Russian soldiers raping Ukrainian women.”

“Russia [who secured both Chernobyl and Zaporizhzhia] are nuclear ‘terrorists'”. [For securing the facilities. All while the facilities are undamaged and not showing a rise in radiation leakage.]

“Russia is planning public executions.”

Might as well throw in some chestnut like “Russia shish-kebabbing Ukrainian infants on bayonets”.

Do you see where this is going?

“Two more top Russian commanders kiled.”

DO YOU BELIEVE ANY OF THIS BULLSHIT???

The same media that lied to you for two years about COVID and masks and vaccines and lab leaks now wants you to TRUST THEM and #StandWithUkraine .

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKK THAT!

What are the possibilities that Putin is beholden to Klaus Schwab?

I’d say 1%.

What is the possibility that Putin is doing the right thing.

I’d say 99%.

But the only problem is this: it completely overshadows the exceedingly-successful “freedom convoys” of truckers and also makes it impossible for any news about COVID duplicity to make it on any mainstream news.

So the timing is, one may see, unfortunate.

The whole COVID narrative was rapidly collapsing.

The virus was burning out with Omicron.

Serious, serious questions about impropriety from Moderna and Pfizer were arising.

And they CONTINUE to arise.

But you won’t hear about them.

The Ukraine war is like a giant school shooting.

This will be THE ONLY STORY in the news for months.

Perhaps years.

There are two reasons that people do things.

The “good” reason and the real reason.

Why did Putin invade Ukraine?

Because Zelensky announced 11 months ago that his intention was to retake Crimea by force.

And why else did Putin invade?

Because Zelensky announced seven months ago that Ukraine’s desire and intention was to join NATO.

Any other possible reasons?

Zbigniew Brzezinski called Ukraine the “bread basket” of the former Soviet Union.

What is the only thing which could rival oil right now in terms of astronomical inflation and actual scarcity?

Food.

Wheat.

Food security.

Putin may be securing this bread basket for Russia.

And I don’t blame him.

But let’s look at some attack scenarios.

Ukraine –> Moldova.

No NATO territory crossed.

Finland –> Sweden.

No NATO territory crossed.

Azerbaijan/Georgia (or vice versa) –> Armenia –> Iran (joins Russian Federation?) –> Iraq –> Syria (joins Russian Federation?)

No NATO territory crossed.

Monaco invasion.

And finally:

Bosnia and Herzegovina –> Serbia –> Kosovo.

I save this one for last because it is the most germane to our film.

This film’s action largely takes place in Bosnia.

Language: Bosnian.

Invasion from the sea.

Order of battle as above.

If you like Romanian New Wave, you will love Take Me Somewhere Nice.

I cannot understate the importance of this film.

Ena Sendijarević did a phenomenal job directing this.

Shades of Kiarostami.

Sonic Youth.

Tu dors Nicole.

Taste of Cherry.

This is dark humor.

But there is no punchline.

That’s how dark it is.

Dark, deadpan humor.

Dark absurdity.

Banality.

Warts and all.

Balkans.

The forgotten parts of Europe.

Where it is a curse to grow up.

I always pray for the children and the elderly of Ukraine.

And the fucking Ukrainian morons who didn’t get involved in politics and prevent corrupt Joe Biden from becoming the U.S. President.

They bear some blame.

But we do not want civilian casualties.

Putin asked the Ukrainian military to overthrow Zelensky.

They have been very foolish to not heed Putin’s suggestion.

And Mark Milley was indeed at the Ukrainian border with 15+ wide-body planes full of Javelins and Stingers.

How exceedingly-foolish.

Russia has been unequivocal: provide weapons to Ukraine which are used against our troops and we will consider this an act of war.

Milley’s panties were wedged in his vagina over the “white rage” of Jan6, but here he is personally handing out missiles to Ukraine.

Why?

We have no defense treaty with Ukraine.

Our Congress has not declared war on Russia.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?

It’s the same faggots: Mark Milley, Lloyd Austin, Michael Gilday, Bishop Garrison…

The military is not coming to save us.

And Trump became a moron ever since he uttered the words “I got the Pfizer”.

Putin is the best leader in the world.

And this film is magnificent.

-PD

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Nuovo Cinema Paradiso [1988)

One of the greatest of all time.

I wasn’t sure I could handle the flood of emotions this film was bound to trigger.

But I went for it.

And it is, truly, a masterpiece.

Essential viewing.

In the U.S. we know it simply as Cinema Paradiso, but I wish to honor director Giuseppe Tornatore by reviewing it under the Italian title.

This film is full of fear and regret…because it is reminiscence.

Gone long from home.

Many years away from family.

Moreover, there are few films which portray a pure love for cinema quite like this one.

What we have is a mentorship.  Alfredo, the mentor…and Toto, the mentee.

There are so many magical shots…so many jewel-like devices of cinematic deftness which make this picture truly special.

When I was a young man, this film taught me the potential of cinema.

And my fear at the time was losing my past.

But now that I have, by the grace of God, returned to my homeland, my fear tonight was reimmersing myself in the beauty of misery.

Or the misery of beauty.

In accounting, they teach you to ignore sunk costs.

But the human psyche still yearns for the one that got away.

We analyze our past decisions.

We lament our judgement.

But the costs of love, the economic costs of love (the totality of what was at stake) cannot be so easily dismissed.

Maybe it was not meant to work out.

But there are some very painful, lonely yearnings which age us like a bottle of scotch.

Perhaps our pain will be someone’s joy.

We cannot live with a “letter never sent”.

But a letter never answered can be so indescribably mournful.

And so we have come back.

Having tried our luck and worked our hands to the bone.

And we praise God for the opportunity to see Alfredo again.

The whole family.

It’s a trade-off.

And lost love still leaves us wistful.

Maybe we don’t understand the reverse culture shock we have been battling.

For several years.

Maybe we are yet too young.

To see our homeland with eyes of clarity.

This is what Philippe Noiret tells Marco Leonardi.

You’re not old enough yet…to be here.

Noiret is really the star of this film.

With his big mustache.  And his close-cropped hair.

The projectionist.

But none of this would have been possible without the child.

Toto.  Salvatore Cascio.

His impish smile.  His hunger to learn.

We see a filmmaker in the making of himself.

And while Jacques Perrin is quite special as the grown-up Toto,

there is one key personality I must touch upon.

Agnese Nano.

This actress changed my life.

And I fell in love with her understudy.

Perhaps years later I did the same again.

Those blue eyes always kill you.

But it was when I first saw this.  In 1998.

I fell in love.

And it didn’t work out so well.

It was too much.

Ill-fated.

Romeo and Juliet.

I felt I was lower-class.

I had no confidence.

It is these things which we regret.

How a word could have been different.

How a revelation might have changed history.

But we praise God for Pupella Maggio.

Thank you, God, for your blessings.

This film has made me very emotional.

Because it is a masterpiece.

And we shall sail on.

Into the night sky.

And remember how Ennio Morricone guided our every blessed footstep in our Garden of Eden.  Over paths encrusted with tiny diamonds here and there…which would catch the reflection of the moon.  We walked the path the best we could.

-PD

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Amarcord [1973)

This film contains everything.

As in, “I am large, I contain multitudes.”

It is truly vast like the sky full of pebble stars.

There is no translation for Federico Fellini’s masterpiece Amarcord other than “I remember”.

Ah, good God:  memory!

I immediately think of George Stevens’ paean to family I Remember Mama (1948) and, of course, the king of memory Marcel Proust.

But this is Italy, not France.  And Remembrance of Things Past is a “bad” translation.  More accurate is In Search of Lost Time.

And that is exactly what Fellini is doing here.

Trying to reclaim the past.

Remember this?  Remember that?

It is, I am guessing, a conversation with himself.

A rumination.

It is a small town (or at least it feels that way).

And we have everything.

A blind accordionist straight out of Tom Waits’ dreams.

A femme fatale by the name of Gradisca (“take what you want”).  [Played by Magali Noël.]

We miss the translation now and then.  Perhaps the Romagnol dialect?

That explains our title Amarcord.

I remember.

“Jadis, si je me souviens bien…”

A season in hell.

From hell.

And yet a season of beauty as well.

Uncle Teo (Uncle Uncle) says it best…up a tree…over and over and over and over again:

Voglio una donna!

Voglio una donna!

[like John Lennon writhing in pain on “Mother” or “Cold Turkey”]

Voglio una donna!

“I want a woman!”

Each incantation different.

The 42-year-old Teo up a tree…on a day out in the country…on leave from the asylum.

And a dwarf nun makes it all better.

It’s not what you think.

When you look at the cover for the film, is says SEX SEX SEX.

Sure, there’s sex.

But it’s very matter-of-fact.

This isn’t a film with gratuitous nudity (only one brief nude scene).

Sex is woven into the film.

It’s alright to talk about sex.  1973.  Italy.

Fellini is a big shot by now.

It is art.  It is life.  It is artistic expression.

Everyone is portrayed lovingly.  Everyone is subjected to the same pimple-precise criticism.

Films don’t get any more real than this.

HOWEVER…

Fellini introduces an element of magical realism here and there.  [The magic is due in no small part to Nino Rota’s shimmering soundtrack.]

Sure, it serves as a bit of a distancing technique (Brecht?)…a defense mechanism, perhaps.

This material is too raw; too personal.

It is TOO sad!  One has to laugh because of how sad it is.

And that is the tragicomedy which lived on in the great Roberto Benigni’s comedies and the grand-slam of naïveté:  Giuseppe Tornatore’s Cinema Paradiso.

And so, to understand these latter-day…saints(?)…we must examine the old masters.  We must get used to saying Nuovo Cinema Paradiso (the real title)…because cinema is barely a hundred years old, really.  And so, we must look to Fellini as akin to Giotto.

Pros-pet-ti-va!

We get so many perspectives here…

It’s one of the few times AMPAS has gotten something right.  This film.  Oscar for Best Foreign Language.  1974.  Look at the list.  Lots of misses.

Back to Amarcord.

Beauty goes away.  The big fish in the small pond.

But the blind accordion player endures.

Vulpina (Josiane Tanzilli) the nymphomaniac fleshes out the family portrait.

Ah ah ah…

It’s no use.

This film is all about detail.

There is no use recounting the endless assortment of fascinating characters who make this thing go.

You will just have to see it for yourself.

For all of its pithy naturalism, it is really a touching film.

Fellini gets every little detail right.  Such a formidable picture!

 

-PD

 

 

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El espíritu de la colmena [1973)

I have wanted to bring my readers this film for some time.

Therefore, it is an honor to review The Spirit of the Beehive for you.

I first saw this film by chance one night on TCM long ago.

I don’t remember the exact chain of events, but it was either right before seeing this or right after seeing this that I found out I was going to Spain (the country of provenance of this film).

The opportunity to visit Spain was a miracle (as have been all my travels).  Never did I think I would see La Sagrada Família.  Never did I dream of seeing the Guggenheim in Bilbao.  These things were too much to dream.  But they happened.

And this film is the quintessence of that miracle experience.

Two little girls.  Ana and Isabel.

The sonic motif throughout this film is the name “Isabel” whispered by her younger sister Ana.

It is an entreaty.  A putting faith in someone.

Please tell me why this, and why that.

Few films have matched the magic of this one.  If you are a fan of Cinema Paradiso, this film will show you where that template originated.

Before the great Giuseppe Tornatore, there was the equally great Víctor Erice (auteur of the film under consideration).

There is a magic here which is akin to Amélie and also Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.  It is a naïveté befitting of Erik Satie…a wonderment which is rarely expressed effectively in film.

For more modern viewers, the best parallel might perhaps be Beasts of the Southern Wild (on the soundtrack of which I had the honor to perform with my old band).

And so there you have it.

Bees, bees everywhere.  Like Mercury Rev…”Chasing a Bee Inside a Jar”…and “Syringe Mouth” (‘here you come dripping from the hive’).

The hum.  The drone.  Like a subway screeching through the turns in a New York subway tunnel.  And the honeycomb.  Like DNA.

I should add.  A certain sadness.  Like a tawny port.

It was only fitting that this film was kicked to the curb for me, the poor-man’s Henri Langlois, to find at this particular time.

And so I too whisper the name Isabel.  Isabel with your hair pulled back behind your ears.  Don’t be cruel.

 

-PD

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