azzo

Damn, I'm out of it, I forgot Santa Patti!

For me, the greatest singer of all time, after: Polly, Aretha, Laura Nyro, Janis, Aimee Mann, Lisa Gerrard, Joni Mitchell, Grace Slick, Sandy Denny, Lisa Germano, Liz Phair, Liz Frazier, Nina Simone, Tracey Thorne, Martina Topley-Bird, Cath Coffey, Cat Power, Siouxsie, Polysterene, Martha Ladly, Diana Ross, Tina Turner, Rickie Lee Jones, Justine Frischmann, Erykah Badu, Fiona Apple, Hope Sandoval, Kendra Smith, Chrissie Hynde, Beth Gibbons, Kristin Hersh, Lalli...the first ones that come to mind. Yes, maybe we can find her a spot in the top fifty.

P.S. Obviously, the message above was for Black, who, in all this chaos, makes it impossible to understand anything anymore.

Here I am back, tomorrow you will find it at 41.2-41.3. P.S. I’d like to point out, however, that if I’m losing my touch, making half-baked comments, etc., it’s due to your inclination towards Berlusconism, which now seems absolute (Bondi even called me tonight, interrupting one of his trysts with Betty, crying and complaining that you’re trying to outshine him). Just like the Little Man, if you speak well of him, everyone’s a friend; otherwise, they’re all Stalinists. Come on, to avoid irritating you too much, I won’t even give a one. But if a review makes me cringe, given the subject, I can say that while keeping your usual respect, can’t I? In words, it’s all “of course you can criticize me,” but then it hurts more than it did for the Little Man when the lady was with the philosopher. I beg your pardon for the finesse.

I can only answer you for question number 4: on TV you go on Sundays, and now it's Saturday, who do you think is sitting on the couch with me reading your bullshit? Now I’ll leave you, I need to make her sweat a bit, since I'm above my ideal weight.

@Fusillo: it’s clear that in just a few lines you cannot provide an in-depth analysis of the issues raised by the film (which I highlighted in my post 59), however, I found your review a bit simplistic compared to your usual style. Normally, you always manage to be "exhaustive," even in a small space, but here you ultimately say nothing. Unfortunately, it’s known that one of the rules I adhere to is to avoid discussing very important works because I would only end up stating clichés. Naturally, I’m mistaken in thinking that this should apply to others as well. Anyway, knowing how much I respect you, you can’t expect me to rush to see a review of a film that, as I’ve already mentioned several times, I consider "enormous," and then not express my disappointment when reading four rather bland and unnecessary paragraphs. And don’t respond with some false modesty. I also find it unnecessary that after telling you I’m tearing you apart, I should add an emoticon. I didn’t like your review at all. That’s all. I believe it’s inevitable, given the freedom of posts and that not every effort turns out perfectly. Then again, I don’t know, should we say that every time I criticize a review, I’m the usual irritating one? That’s fine. My respect for you remains unchanged. And once again, I’m not leaving you an emoticon. Bye.

Dear Poletti, without starting one of our debates that would keep us busy all day—and I’m not really in the mood for it, even though it's raining here and I don’t have much to do—however, you can’t keep putting words in my mouth that I didn’t say. Do I hate Eastwood? It seems I only came to post about two films, "A Perfect World," which I despise and have explained why, and "Bird," which I liked a lot. Now, if a comparison between the two is probably absurd, since Penn has made very few films compared to Clint, at the same time, this film inevitably makes me think of Eastwood, as it has a patina of classicism and works within a genre, as Eastwood often does. Only that while the latter remains very classic, Penn deconstructs (not just the genre but also Nicholson). Both then present a cinema with a high "moral" content, which is rarely seen in American cinema. However, I find that while Eastwood works on one or two issues per film, this one presents a monstrous amount and therefore I believe it to be a great film. Whether promises, in a Kantian sense, as a categorical imperative, must be kept at all costs. Whether subjective justice (that of Nicholson) can be compared to ordinary justice (the other police officers). Whether internal morality can coincide with common morality or not. Whether one’s own “good” ideal must be pursued to the point of becoming evil. Whether to combat evil (pedophilia), the necessity of evil is required. Whether love (Nicholson and Wright-Penn) can survive deception. Whether a lie justifies the end or not. Whether the love for children (that of Wright-Penn) must necessarily be greater than that for one’s partner. Whether, no matter how great our goal, it will inevitably be defeated by fate. Whether every human effort is destined to fail in the face of the inevitable. In short, a few little questions, but which Penn raises in about a couple of abundant hours. Not bad, right?

Fusillo, hello again, I'm doing well, as usual. But come on, don’t be silly telling me you thought it was just the sad story of a retired policeman. Come on, it tackles some pretty significant issues, with a bit of subterfuge. You know well, if you don’t feel like it and sidestep, that’s fine too. In fact, while reading it, it struck me as a review from Blacky, who I see is complimenting you and telling me things I don’t understand. Like: what the hell does it mean that metaphysical thought arises when language goes on vacation? I simply found it to be a rather complex work, with efforts, indeed, but not only, on cinematic and theatrical language that are quite significant. First and foremost, I reiterate, on Greek tragedy. Now, since it’s not very often that this happens in American cinema, perhaps it was worth discussing it. Should we throw everything to the wind? That’s perfectly fine. But we’re not talking about the Zucker brothers. And not about Clint Eastwood either. Sorry for saying that.

The same difference that exists between truth and lie, sincerity and feigning. Polly recounts her experiences as a small-town girl discovering the world, only to be disappointed and weep over it. She pays the consequences of her mistakes, but there is no ulterior motive. She simply seeks to know herself. One who, on the other hand, gets pregnant while having affairs and then goes to tell the newspapers to make the headlines is just a wretch, and yet, mixed with all the rest of her behavior, she evokes no sympathy in me. She is just a selfish jerk.

Hi Fusillo. First of all, I hope you are doing well. Now, this time I have to tear you apart. What is this colloquial tone in relation to the Greek tragedy being portrayed? These three little paragraphs without mentioning Sophocles? The structure of the detective story has nothing to do with the mystery genre, but it is drawn from Oedipus Rex; Durrenmatt, indeed, as a good post-modernist, has worked a lot on that canon. It’s a film about obsession, about lack of freedom, about choice and destiny. And, from a cinematic standpoint, one cannot help but notice how Nicholson only works well now with Penn. Who is a director capable of directing actors, perhaps because he himself is an actor, like few others. For me, it's a great film, I see that for you too, but it deserved a slightly more in-depth analysis.