marpado

Madonna, enough already. You’re clogging up the site with this crap for fake depressed people. Why don’t you just finish it for real and get the hell out of here?

Enough with Elisa's trembling laments. Who decided that she can sing? Besides the fact that she's also a remarkable wreck, she gives me the impression of having a deadly little breath; I can't tell you why...

@Basketgirl how much nonsense... you are not suffering disguised as rude and arrogant, you ARE rude and arrogant. I’m speaking from the perspective of someone who isn’t that experienced, rest assured, and yet, despite my young age, I can perfectly grasp the abyssal differences between my 15 years and the current ones. But it’s not your fault, after all; if anything, it’s the fault of your neo-emancipated whore mothers who don’t want to age, who, between work, the gym, tennis, dinners with friends, shopping, and two or three color lovers, don’t find the time to educate you or even just to ask how your day went. Your fathers are worse than your mothers. It’s only logical they parked you in front of the TV since you were babies; now that you've grown up, there are computers, YouTube, and packs of your peers where you can gather to share your frightening emptiness, your chilling void. Moccia simply gathers your saddest representations from here and there, encodes them into books and films whose low level makes them easily accessible to you (translated: only that crap can you understand), you recognize yourselves in it, you get passionate about it, and you carry forward those stereotypes, and encouraged, you create new ones. Moccia writes more books, and so on, in a vicious circle that who knows for how many more years it will bore us. When will we see a nice movie about PGold? That’s all. Forget dreams in the drawer and other nonsense...

One of the few films by Merdetti that I’ve seen: the socio-psychoanalytic analysis of a family that crumbles after the loss of a child is, if you allow me, a load of crap. Anyone who has experienced such a loss knows perfectly well that’s not how it goes. The family doesn’t break apart like this arrogant hypocrite’s cup; on the contrary, it solidifies even more. Sure, there are tensions that come out, it’s normal—we’re human—but there emerges a feeling, a necessity, as if to say, “Now we can’t and shouldn’t make any more mistakes; we must live to the best of our abilities because that’s what the 'child' would have wanted.” Especially if there are other children in the house, an eminent nothing breaks apart; the instinct for preservation prevails, spurred on by grief. Therefore, Boriosetti could have spared us, this time, his usual characteristic pessimistic and defeatist brushstroke. And the scene where he opens the door for the son’s friend is a riot: what was he trying to convey—emotion, disorientation, surprise? It seemed to me like the face of someone who just got a stick up his ass…

Whatever you want, Primiballi, I understand little about cinema and I won’t discuss Moretti as a director because I lack the tools (even though some scenes from La stanza del figlio made me laugh heartily). In fact, I hate Moretti as a man... but you can't come here and tell us that Moretti doesn't make films on commission, that he's not beholden to this or that powerful figure, etc.: this is a guy who makes films with state funding, so let’s not say nonsense, pliz.

You got it with Tv Sorrisi e Canzoni, huh! Well done, me too...

But in the end, what the hell is the monster?

The ratings... I would give the album a two at best, but lately, I've been carrying it way too much on my foreskin...

detailed review, heartfelt, detailed...but damn, you’re talking about Ligabue. So many beautiful words and concepts wasted on Ligabue. A few sentences would have sufficed for a mediocre album (5/10 here, unlike the subsequent ones which are shit without escape) good for mental wankers who love to flagellate themselves with all the socio-existential nonsense of the early Liga. Paloz is right, I know people who grew up with Ligabue who lost their virginity at 25…now he’s just a poor fool in a cellphone commercial, but in his day he caused some damage.

I would like to respond to Fidia if it weren't for the fact that over a year has passed since his comments: it wasn't immediately clear that these would end up forgotten; in fact, the initiative was serious, and there was a real expectation of strong and lasting commercial success. That's why the irony of Mopaga is not as cruel and unfounded as it seems. The only thing that was left in the hands of Mediaset's production were the countless hookups that various Bossari and others had during the selection tour. Loads of money invested just for hookups. Apparently, though, they had money to spend because if you remember well, two or three years later, they re-organized the same pantomime: tour, selections, group, promise of success. The flop was even more spectacular (but I still remember the name of the band of pretty boys: the Lucky Star), and it was easily predictable given the outcome of the first experience; however, those guys got another tour around Italy enjoying themselves, as Berlusconi was footing the bill... now they apparently no longer need that, as Amici satisfies the lust of various talent scouts, producers, managers, and others down at Mediaset...