odradek

I'm only just reading Fidia now and I don't understand. Arrogance? It seems to me that these are opinions, clear, different from yours. Which is definitely very debatable, given the example you use to support it. What sense does it make? Do you really need to imagine black cock to understand? The film is mediocre, not just in my opinion, that of the reviewer, or some other user (and this may not be shared), the review is clear, well-written, not pretentious but reasoned and related to aspects of the film that can all be verified without effort if only one avoids exercising the faculty of criticism by accepting the comparison on opinions, rather than expressing stone-cold and unmotivated judgments ("it sucks" is probably determined more by unstable conditions of your gastrointestinal tract than by the text in question). Unless you are another supporter of the "message" (and in this case worse still: if the message were the one suggested, you know what effort, speaking of casual bullshit) and of "my law, the only one I recognize." In that case, any conversation is absolutely pointless. And the so-called "intellectuals" should certainly be executed by the horde of the tough and pure with their personal sentences. But it didn't seem like you were part of the pack. If that’s the case, the supposed intellectual is still "covered" for all eventualities, and we'll see. - Hey, look who it is! Hi, Regular.

I avoided writing about this book even though it was the only one I was interested in doing so. I didn't because I believe it cannot be (I wouldn't be able to) rendered in its richness (paradoxical, in such a stark desolation) that emerges from an abyss that is NOT determined by the "story" told or the (phenomenal) writing, but by the network of connections that the unspoken pulsating through it activates in a reader willing to plunge into the heart of the pages. For me, it is the only book in recent years that, without ifs or buts, "justifies" and "gives meaning," on its own, to contemporary "narrative." A higher specific weight, an even greater and definitive McCarthy. After closing the book, which I read just as it arrived in Italian bookstores, an echo has survived in me that does not fade and resurfaces, even today, surprising me in the middle of a day... I appreciate your contribution and the attempt to "tell" the book, even though, I repeat, the greatness of those pages does not lie in the "data" you listed and, even less, in the banalization of the "closure." But that's fine if it manages to bring a few more readers to those pages, in La strada...

But you don't like "Medical dramas"?

Dear AlessioIride, your need to "express" is quite well-known and evident, there's no need to reiterate it. Your need for "messages" is just as evident, but it's clearly your own business; I would avoid extending it to a universal law, as messages, for instance, provoke hives in me. Furthermore, the banality of such a supposed "message" would be so harmless that it would further discredit the film. But that's fine; there's always a need for someone to explain things to us and to feel entitled to investigate the vast spaces in our heads, because discussing opinions isn’t an option in the south curve. No, Pixies, reading is not a fundamental option when there's an "urgency" to say something. Well, it's probably better to let it go. It's still a waste of time.

The problem with Darren Aronofsky's film is that it annoys, but not in the way he probably intended. In fact, the annoyance, at times almost intolerable, comes more from disappointment, from the sorrow over this (bad) film that judging by certain moments could have been magnificent, because denying Aronofsky's talent would frankly be unacceptable given the first 20 minutes of "Requiem for a Dream," based on Hubert Selby Jr. Aronofsky takes everything good he has done or could have done and throws it away to completely tilt towards a childish aesthetic, based on silly visual tricks worthy of any last-minute music video maker. And let it be clear, it's not the substance of the aforementioned visual attitudes that is being criticized here, but rather their abuse, which sterilizes, ridicules, and annoys due to its uselessness.
Let's see an example: the split screen, an aesthetically horrible tool in itself that Aronofsky uses with incredible intelligence on two occasions; in the first, the opening sequence, he brilliantly chooses to align the limit of the split with the wall separating mother and son, and while the camera is fixed on the left, it is handheld on the right and follows the son walking through the room. The result is excellent, just like in the second case, when two lovers are close in bed but further brought together by the split; this is a contradiction in terms, because usually the split screen is used to bring things closer while here the two people are already near, thus presenting a small but very intelligent reworking of cinematic language. The problem is that after exhausting these two instances, Aronofsky abuses it and uses this gimmick (along with many others) simply out of bias, without bothering to verify its usefulness first, and therefore all good intentions miserably fall apart. The same argument could be made for frenzied editing, an unnecessary gimmick in some cases, gratuitous in others, and utterly banal in one of the final sequences—a kind of silly noise collage that, unable to impress the viewer with subtlety, ends up exhausting and temporarily stunning them with an avalanche of impactful sounds and images.
It’s very disappointing because the idea of representing the theme of the decline of American society through a film gradually taking on horror characteristics was commendable in itself.
The soundtrack by the Kronos Quartet is stunning. - Rating: 5 - I fully subscribe to this other reading of the film. Clearly, it was not conceived with Trainspotting in mind (whose intents and limitations are of a completely different nature). I'm off to heat up my stuff before my office colleagues shoot it all up their veins. Regards.

I don't see substantial differences.

Well said, Chopinsky. However, the unwarranted emphasis of the admirers finds its reflection in the almost obligatory criticism, more out of reaction than necessity. A mediocre film doesn't deserve either fate. But it's a world of fans...

There’s no pobbbblema, Psycho: Lukin set me up with an assist that even Pierino Prati in his heyday couldn’t waste.

Psycho, I have the last one but I can't find this one. Do you have a little link? Thanks!

Well, Don, forget about the executives at Geffen (or other major labels) in Italy: they have been, over the decades, shining examples of incompetence and unparalleled foolishness. So I really don’t think they count for anything. That said, both Alberto Campo (at the time we still saw each other quite often) and I thought exactly what Super is saying. In fact, I vividly remember that the day I bought the album (as soon as it was released, in a store with the telling name of Verovinile), I asked the owner to play it and the customers (all loyal to the line) were disgusted by the "commercial" turn, being devotees of "Bleach." I, who hoped for a shift towards a more pronounced melodic dimension when "Bleach" came out, was surprised during the first listen of "Nevermind" by the fact that it was even stronger than I expected. And it wasn't hard to imagine a market explosion. Of course, not to the dimensions it ended up achieving, which not even the Wizard Gabriel could have foreseen... - The rest of the argument doesn’t seem to make much sense, starting from the premises, although I understand the connotation that Super intends to give about the Police of the '90s: the premises, context, generational traits, market... are just too distant. Anyway, this album by the New Christ was a pleasure to hear.