alessioIRIDE

Olé, you understood the opposite of what I meant... comment number 20 :)

wait: I do not judge his person or his ideas. I am judging his attitude regarding this matter, that's all and nothing more. Personally, I do not fully appreciate the horror genre, except through some literary books and authors, and I don't like splatter films either—not because of a deviation from common morality (which I don't care about), but because I am a coward and blood disturbs me. The only work of this genre that I often watch is Salò by Pasolini for the meaning it carries, which seems to partly elude me. For Holocaust Remembrance Day, instead of sending Schindler's List (or however it's spelled), I would send Salò, but that would require living in a country with a very high culture and not in one where southerners vote for the Northern League or where important parties are not accepted in Europe due to their members' fascist or complicit past.

but I don't know him and I don't judge him as a person. I only judge his attitude, which I find reprehensible. Regarding the meaning of art, I don't know what to think, and on Debaser they made the example of Cèlinè, and after that, I decided never to talk about serious things on Debaser again because it's the exact reflection of normal life... too many idiots occupied with boasting about their culture talk about things appreciated superficially, giving a rather generic meaning devoid of those things that are even written in capital letters. What bothers me is the indifference, the lack of care, the desire to forget a recent history that always seems on the verge of repeating itself. Soon, when the generation of survivors dies in Italy, where there are no serious museums about the Second World War, where the architecture is practically intact, where the parties pretend and then in the headquarters of Alleanza Nazionale there are half-busts of Mussolini, what will happen? They forget, that’s the problem, and if Memento Mori, beyond the meaning it wants to convey, had written this review on January 27, 1945? They would have gone to fetch him at home... memories gradually fade. It’s essential to always maintain the same shame and disgust for what happened. That said, I’ll stop bothering now.

"And in these two extremes lie the pros and cons of the work, the judgment of which becomes difficult to articulate: if on one hand the compositional maturity achieved by the artist leans towards a decidedly positive evaluation, zero is undoubtedly the score that anyone deserves who decides to celebrate, in the comfortable warmth of their living room, the unspeakable horrors of war." And what do you do in the warmth of your living room? Are you sure you are not glorifying, sanctifying the horrors of war by appreciating such crap?

bartleboom... the problem is that whether you speak well or badly about it, it’s always publicity for things that shouldn’t remain hidden, entering into a sort of magnificence of the concealed. I am for discussing it, for showing it, for setting up exhibitions instead of wasting 20 hours of television programming giving devastating topics to people who neither have the means nor the reflexes to talk about them... memento will surely be one of the most moderate users on the site, a bit like Fini is the guardian of our democracy, a sign of the times. I don’t understand how one can be balanced when talking about people who praise what they praise: it seems to me a sort of moralism, giving voice to things that shouldn’t have a voice, a kind of futile and sterile intellectualism in the face of very serious matters, just to boast about one’s open-mindedness which has the diameter of a baby’s anus.

Well, the poor memento could easily turn to horse racing or reviewing works that don't offend or invoke the life, memory, and death of millions of people... I'm not for degenerate art, to understand what is right or what is wrong; in fact, I don't give a damn, but at least I want to grant myself the ability to say you're an idiot out loud and to disagree whenever I feel like it. What especially angers me is that people like that invoke the words of Cèlinè when they haven't even read a third of what there is to read... It especially strikes me when I think of the silence of the Abruzzo concentration camps and how a boy, maybe my age, can jerk off thinking about the blood of millions of innocents. I'm not a moralist nor a do-gooder, but at least I think. Unlike people who on Holocaust Remembrance Day write about a disc that mentions faccetta nera.

that journey to the end of the night, in the review, is called upon by chance or hoping, like those on the right, that Cèlinè will race to the rescue? just curiosity, just mad amusement in not even understanding what is written in flames.

more than a film, it’s a sensation. the theme is not war, for me, but man in all his variants... the result then makes me think of some pages of Journey to the End of the Night by Céline... this film, this sensation, anyway, is under my skin. beautiful

YEAH... alessioIRIDE up your ass!

because now punk is a subgenre of heavy metal... damn, you never stop learning