Bartleboom

DeRank : 35,89
DeAge™ : 7610 days • Here since 9 august 2005
Marco Masini Malinconoia
Voto:
Listened to it until the physical destruction of the cassette in middle school. I believe I can still sing at least 3-4 songs by heart. Basically, the soundtrack of my first, historic heartbreak: a blonde classmate named Ylenia, for whom I sang day and night "Ti vorrei" ("I would like you," as I work on the tram, "I would like you, I would like you, I would like you even if you blow a ghei"). I've always thought that if things had gone well with her, today I would be rich and famous... Instead, I find myself writing a comment on an album by Masini from 20 years ago, at 8 in the morning, while salty tears stream down my cheeks...
Paolo Cavaglione, Ezio Sisto PKNA – Paperinik New Adventures
Voto:
Everyone has always spoken very highly of it. So while on vacation, I bought a couple of volumes of "PK - il mito" for a couple of pennies (the ones that came with Gazzetta and Corriere). My judgment is: "too much on the table." Both graphically and narratively. In some panels, the coloring is criminal and you can't make heads or tails of what's happening; there are dozens of forced "cool" shots that serve no real purpose. The stories suffer from the writers' need to condense complex plots and ideas into just a few pages. Some lines are highly effective, but often the dialogues between PK and Uno are dragged out to the point of being cloying, and the balloons fill a good part of the page. It can certainly work to give a taste of science fiction and thriller to a young audience, but since it's been sold to me for years as an "adult comic that's too dark," my rating is no.
Don DeLillo Underworld
Voto:
I’ve read De Lillo’s White Noise and Cosmopolis: technically, it could be my favorite writing of all time, even just for the rhythm and the obsessive lexical research. The problem (for me, a big one) is that it doesn’t "entertain" me; his books don’t captivate me. I read them with the interest I might have for a textbook, for an essay, not as novels. To be honest, I would still like to read this one because everyone says it’s his masterpiece, but - as Cicciolina said when she was introduced to the horse - "the dimensions worry me a bit"…
Isabel Allende La Casa Degli Spiriti
Voto:
extro, tell me a bit about this Tozzi, because at first glance he doesn't seem to be the one from Gloria, you're missing from this hand that works slowly...
Damien Hirst The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living
Voto:
Even on the topic of "technique," I find myself rather conciliatory towards contemporary art. Many people are still anchored to the idea that technique equals the masterful use of a paintbrush or a chisel. In reality, behind contemporary art there is primarily the choice of tools (lasers, 3D printers), the selection of materials (resins, metal alloys, castings, but also fungi, bacteria, chemical reagents, etc.), and the design of the structure. Someone might say, "Oh! What the heck does it take to put a shark in a tank?" and in reality, 1) they thought of it and you didn't; 2) they also messed up the first time; 3) but if you couldn't even manage to keep a stick insect alive!
Damien Hirst The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living
Voto:
I think more or less (I believe...) like musicanidi, I’m attracted by the idea of being able to approach something (the shark, in fact) that is "unapproachable" by definition. I like the idea of seeing the "cageable" confined. As for the rest, this kind of contemporary art really breaks me: it’s art stripped of any didactic/pedagogical intent and reduced to pure "entertainment": the work becomes a work of art if someone is amused by it and, therefore, is willing to pay to have it. No longer art that tells the masses how to be in the world, but the masses deciding what is art. That these "contemporary masses" are actually an extremely small circle of incredibly wealthy individuals willing to spend millions of dollars on nonsense is true, but whatever...
Haruki Murakami Noruwei No Mori (Norwegian Wood-Tokyo Blues)
Voto:
I'm reading it these days (at 35 years old). I'm more or less halfway through, and—maybe it's because I'm on vacation, maybe it's because I'm reading it with my fingers smeared in cream and onion focaccia, maybe it's because a friend of mine recommended it, who wrote a practically identical book—well, it's pretty much making me feel like crap. This describes, it doesn't tell. And its characters should be off working in salt mines, not growing zucchinis... P.S.: this is more of a rant than a comment on the book. I’ll revisit it at the end of my reading. Woof woof.
Subrosa More Constant Than The Gods
Voto:
No Help and blah blah blah, I quite liked it. It didn’t drive me crazy, but it had its charm. Expendable, yet interesting; in the end, I had it on repeat quite a bit... You've intrigued me on this: I’ll give it a shot. Well done.
Makoto Yukimura Planetes
Voto:
Due to a forced break of a couple of days, I caught up on the anime and got totally hooked: it’s definitely great. It’s remarkable how almost every episode plants narrative threads that initially seem self-contained, but gain significance as we approach the finale. Now, the finale itself - in my opinion, it was a bit overly sentimental - represents somewhat the weak point of the work. But up until episode 24, it’s one of the best series I have ever seen.
Richard J. Lewis La Versione Di Barney
Voto:
A film that would be just mediocre, but which when compared to the book becomes little more than a sandwich full of shit. A huge mistake was trying to do without the voiceover of the narrator. The result is that it explains too much of the superfluous and not enough of the necessary. But, above all, the film fails precisely in what should have been its main goal: to effectively bring Barney from the book to the screen. Montecristo and McCallan aren't enough: the protagonist of the novel is indeed a depraved drunk, but he is also an intelligent man, a keen observer of reality and people, a good man willing to perform acts of incredible generosity, and above all, a man hopelessly in love. Giamatti is nonetheless good, but it almost seems that he had to work with a nonexistent script, certainly not impactful, entirely lacking in useful insights for character development. The same problem arises with the character of Izzy: it works for a couple of sequences and lines lifted straight from the novel and left practically unchanged, but the spirit of the character is not captured and, indeed, is misunderstood in the scene with the detective who beats Barney. At the top of the list of missed opportunities of the first decade of the third millennium.