Sunday, November 15, 2015

'Memory and desire, stirring.' (Nostalghia)

um dia enorme, jogo emocionante ao segundo, um jantar agradável e, Nostalgia (inesperadamente acompanhada de um miúdo de onze anos), com palavras iniciais do filho do realizador. (uma nota para o batalhão de meninas voluntárias do festival que deveriam abster-se de andar para cima e para baixo com ruído na sala durante o filme).

de resto uma excelente notícia: adquiridos os direitos, a partir de janeiro teremos toda a obra de Tarkovsky nas salas de cinema. foi uma espécie de euromilhões ao domingo à tarde).

há anos que não via este filme, o filme da minha vida, o que prefiro a todos os outros, o que levaria para um deserto, para marte, para o outro mundo.

não me lembrava que Erland era o 'pazzo', o meu actor favorito, uma paixão.

'poetry of the moving image', dizia o filho do realizador. uns minutos antes tinha eu dito ao meu filho: este filme é um poema. na sala reinou um silêncio profundo durante todo o filme. que alívio.






o 'rippling effect' de Nostalgia: de cada vez que o vejo, penso que é melhor do que a última vez que o vi, como se o filme se alargasse.

"The main trope that is used to express the yearned-for impossibility of complete wholeness is translation – an act that is, by definition, approximate and, according to some critics, inevitably destined to failure.3 It might be suggested that the contradictory and incongruous nature of Nostalgia’s discourse is inspired not by the film-maker’s whims, but by this very debate."
daqui.

mas a música é traduzível, diz ela. e ele responde cantando uma antiga canção russa. Tolstoy, Pushkine, que sabem eles quando os lêem?



todo um site Tarkovsky.

"Tarkovsky is for me the greatest,” wrote Ingmar Bergman, “the one who invented a new language, true to the nature of film, as it captures life as a reflection, life as a dream.”
daqui.



"How could I have imagined as I was making Nostalghia that the stifling sense of longing that fills the screen space of that film was to become my lot for the rest of my life; that from now until the end of my days I would bear the painful malady within myself?"
daqui.

LIFE, LIFE

1
I don’t believe in presentiments, and signs
Don’t frighten me. I run from neither slander
Nor poison. In the world, there is no death:
All are immortal. Everything is immortal.
One should not be afraid of death at seventeen,
Nor seventy. There is neither gloom nor death
In this world, only clarity and light.
We are all already on the shore of the sea,
And I am one of those who pulls in nets,
When immortality swims by like a shoal.

2
Live in a house—and the house won’t collapse.
I will summon any of the centuries,
I will enter it and build a house in it.
Here is why your children and your wives
Are seated with me at a single table,—
At a single table, your ancestor and grandson:
The coming time is being enacted now,
And if I raise my arm up just a little,
All five of the rays will remain with you.
I propped up every day of the past,
Supporting with my collarbones.
I measured time with a surveying chain,
And passed through it, as if through the Urals.

3
I picked the age according to my stature.
Going south, we held dust over the steppe;
The tall weeds smoked; the grasshopper made mischief,
Touched horseshoes with its whisker, and prophesied,
And threatened me with destruction, like a monk.
I fastened my fate to the saddle;
And now, in the coming times, like a boy,
I raise myself up halfway in the stirrups.

For me my immortality is enough,
That my blood should flow from age to age.
For a faithful corner of unchanging warmth
I would pay wilfully with my own life,
Whenever its flying needle
Would lead me, like a thread, around the world.


poema de Arsenii Tarkovsky.
daqui.




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