When he left their home in Toluca Lake to go on location, he had a habit of leaving Mary little notes—addressed to “Gip Gip,” his pet name for her. “Dearest Gip Gip,” he wrote in one undated note, “Wherever I go, wherever I am, you are never far away from me because I love you. I told Gussy and Shep and Gin in [the Walshes’ pet dogs] to watch over you and protect you. All my love, Papa.” In another note, also undated, Walsh wrote to her, “Dearest Gip Gip, I love you and I am going to miss you. But you are never far away from me. All my love, Papa. P.S. The little fellows will keep you company till I return.” When Walsh left for Puerto Rico to shoot Battle Cry, he wrote her, “Now Baby, take good care of yourself while I am away and always remember you and you alone are the only one in this world I love with all my heart. If I can get good transportation to San Juan I will send for you. Love, Papa.”

(Come chocolates, pequena; 

Come chocolates! 

Olha que não há mais metafísica no mundo senão chocolates. 

Olha que as religiões todas não ensinam mais que a confeitaria.

Come, pequena suja, come! 

Pudesse eu comer chocolates com a mesma verdade com que comes! 

Mas eu penso e, ao tirar o papel de prata, que é de folhas de estanho, 

Deito tudo para o chão, como tenho deitado a vida.) 

pela voz de Mário Viegas - 1 e 2 

o filme do Fonseca e Costa passa dia 6 de maio na cinemateca.

o cinema do Almodóvar estava a precisar de umas quecas. agora está muito melhor.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFrNsSnk8GM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-LbvFckptY

Are you working on any new movies?
I’m working on a horror film; it’s kind of a traditional slasher film called “Pizza Man.” It reminds me of those Hammer Films from the 1950s. So who knows -- I might direct it, but I need to polish it and rewrite it.

Big Brown Eyes (1936) de Raoul Walsh

Danny Barr: [stopping Eve from telephoning] Wait a minute, will you, honey? 
[Eve smacks his hand from the phone] 
Danny Barr: Oh, how I wish you were a man! 
Eve Fallon: Same to you. 

The purity (one might use the word ‘cleanness’) of this mise en scène implicitly opposes the corruption it reveals. Whereas so many modern American films attempt to sell us something (a product, a lifestyle), Brooks’ interest is in a cinema whose pleasures are immediately apparent. In Dracula Dead and Loving It (1995), Brooks introduces his own character, Professor Van Helsing, performing an autopsy for his freshman class. Essentially a two-minute sequence-shot interrupted by a couple of brief cut-ins, the scene, though partaking of that gross-out comedy so prevalent in the 1990s, achieves its effects through a combination of performance and mise en scène. After a frontal view of Van Helsing and the students standing over a sheet-covered cadaver, the camera moves in to frame the professor more closely, implying that Brooks’ skills as an actor will be the main source of laughter, but also economically removing the cadaver from sight, thus allowing its subsequent dissection to take place off-screen: the humour of what follows arises not so much from the grossness of the procedure (which Brooks does not allow us to see) as from our gradual realisation that the professor is more interested in causing his students to faint than in demonstrating autopsy technique. The final twist – despite the assumption of Van Helsing and ourselves that every student has passed out, one is still on his feet – is conveyed via the careful choreography of the actors and the camera, which follows Van Helsing as he moves right and left to display a string of intestines, but carefully conceals the presence of one individual until he emerges from behind the professor and declares “I am still standing”. Cinematic space is thus simultaneously manipulated (for comic reasons) and respected (for aesthetic/moral reasons), the director’s apparent egotism traceable to a belief in the body’s primacy within an image that, however much it may be distorted by lighting and colour effects, still has a fundamental integrity.

romper com a tela ou o mundo como um buraco

o mais piroso dos cineastas só podia ser um tipo genial

Oh! A arte, não há nada que chegue à arte! O que eu queria era ter tempo para imaginar cá as minhas coisas à vontade, mas tenho os ensaios, o dia todo ocupado a tocar: Ora ponha aqui o seu pezinho... É revoltante. Mas o público só gosta destas coisas. O gosto perverteu-se, caminhamos para um abismo.

O Gebo e a Sombra