Bartleboom

I watched the reboot and, of course, it was disappointing. It starts off not too badly, but the last half hour is more boring than an episode of "Un Medico in Famiglia" without nonno libero. Unlike other recent reboots of historical films (e.g., I spit on your grave and what I could see of the new La Casa), the level of gore seemed to me to be lower than the original. And that’s quite incredible. However, the thing that seemed the most poorly managed was the switch between reality and dream: in the Nightmare saga, the real scare comes when you don’t realize the guy has fallen asleep and Freddy suddenly pops up instead of a nurse or something like that. Here, everything changes... Lastly, I’d say they could have really spared us the Nancy-Mia Wallace version in the final sequence.

I liked it halfway. In the sense that, when all is said and done, it is all too evident that they focused not much, but rather EVERYTHING, on the form instead of the content. The subject is almost nonexistent, the screenplay far too often banal and, in any case, recycled (the character of the faithful butler-driver is a complete joke). It almost seems like they wanted to present the audience with a formally charming and elegant film, but one that is content-wise naive and fairy-tale-like, in order to evoke a kind of "affection." As if one were reading an elementary school child's essay, but written in impeccable handwriting. It's a shame because some sequences are truly successful (e.g., the nightmare with the noises), but especially because the first 5 minutes, with all that mechanism of "film within a film," "silent in the silent," and "soundtrack in the soundtrack" hinted at great cinema.

I know the first eponymous one well: truly a gem of metal, epic, and folk with great rhythmic work and Scalzi's hoarse voice dominating. Then, to be honest, I haven't followed them anymore. I read somewhere that this was inferior to their debut. Excellent review.

Gramellini is, all in all, somewhat likable to me. Often, he is banal and obvious in his considerations, but – as always happens when banal and obvious things are said – sometimes he gets it right. Some of his editorials in La Stampa have made me more than smile (I particularly remember the one where he talked about Fare per fermare il declino as a party that, just from the name, seems to have been founded by Mamy from Gone with the Wind...). Recently, I found his "L'ultima riga delle favole" at home and, very trivially, it is the worst thing I have read in the last 10 years. We are at Fabio Volo levels. Actually, below. Quite a bit below. Because at least what I read from Fabio Volo could be read quickly. Here, every line is a load of nonsense that makes you want to stop reading forever. Essentially, it is a shopping list of new age ramblings copy-pasted from an Osho book, plus a bit of superficial psychology à la Moretti, with a sprinkle of Coelho-like enlightenment just for good measure. Crap. To the point of making me sincerely doubt the intellectual honesty of the author.

I've read several positive reviews on some movie sites I usually follow. I've had it for a while, but - to be honest - it doesn't inspire me at all. I really hope your review convinces me to watch it!

I also read Di Bòll's Group Photo and found it splendid. Like Flo, I feared I would get lost at some point in the jungle of characters with names that are a line long and made up only of consonants, but in the end, I really enjoyed it. I promised myself to read more from this author. This will be next.

Seen Monday night at Alcatraz: what a great concert, no bullshit. The only one that left me a bit puzzled was Renzulli, not so much for technical issues, but because he looks more and more like Tinto Brass every day, and let’s just say that’s not exactly a pleasant sight. The one who keeps everyone in line, as usual, is Maroccolo: a monstrous powerhouse with beautiful sounds. Essentially, he held up the songs all by himself. I had seen him a few years ago as the bassist for Marlene Kuntz and he impressed me more with his poor physical condition (he played sitting down) than with his performance. But this time I found him really in shape and, above all, with an exaggerated desire to play. The setlist was questionable in some respects (to be honest, I could have done without Tex and would have preferred a Desaparecido or a Lulù e Marlene), Pelù who - evidently - can no longer resist a whole series of verses, “Uoppààà” and socio-cultural bullshit that, in full Capovilliane style, might work well on Bomba-Boomerang, but on Apapaia, they really fall flat.

Who knows how many "lights" fit into a decomment... LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLightLight LightLightLightLightLightLig

Oh guys! I, on the other hand, went to see the Litifica on Monday night who were performing the trilogy of power. If you want, I can give you the review!

Saw it yesterday. From a technical and visual perspective, I think everything has already been said. Regarding plot, content, and various jokes... I didn’t dislike it. It’s not and won’t be my favorite Anderson film, but I enjoyed it nonetheless, and for most of the viewing, I had a nice smile on my face. Which is the most important thing. It’s a shame about some clichés (e.g., how Susie's parents' relationship is handled) and some other points feel a bit "thrown in" (the three little brothers), but there are just as many successful moments (e.g., the sequence on the beach). And that’s enough.