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9 Oct – LFF 2015 3rd day
Azi merg la The Daughter the screen version of Ibsen’s Play Wild Duck regizat de acelasi tip care a pus in scena piesa (la Barbican asta iarna). Leading Australian theatre director Simon Stone.

Very atmospheric, technically very good, much better than the trailer shows you, especially as it’s not the secret that hooks you in, but the way the story is told. Opening titles have an aesthetic that ripples similar emotional texture throughout the film. Good performance. Strong film. Plays out like a symphony of silences whenever character inner feelings are intense. Genuinely in love with its own story, leaves a lot of space for things to unfurl.

While the play had been such a tight strung rhythmic onset of lines that it took your breath away with pace and emotion, built up in you beyond your ability to fight it or discern it. Flooded you up at a rapid pace, so much that it took but a drop of emotional imbalance after the play for me to break open the whole grief and burst into tears. (See the reaction back then at the bottom of this post)

Whereas here the memory of the play was only paired by a good film and it simply added a different story technique, an interesting but not as devastating one. Even though fellow spectators were pretty struck.

I was wondering while watching it how much of “just a series of personal choices” made by each and every one of us builds up this pattern of intertwined lives. If you choose to see it this way then there’s less blame weight. Things are as they are and events or consequences, for each of us, their impact, are a result of own life choices. Hence no blame cast on anyone else. But this lifts some weight from your shoulders as well. Say someone commits suicide, then that is the personal choice of that individual. You’re not responsible for their act. You may be responsible for the emotional impact of your direct actions upon them but in the end their choice of response to what your actions is absolutely their own. Also related to measuring ability to cope with information… I could ask you if you’re sure you can handle it before I say it. And you may say that you are. But I can still emit a judgement as to whether you really are in spite of your stated security. But then it is my choice and responsibility for the emotional impact it exerts on you when I decide whether to tell you or not. And that’s it, I’m not responsible for your actions. However I may choose that veracity of past events sometimes is irrelevant to how things unfolded and shaped reality since then. As in, ok there may have been a false statement about feelings or motivues in the beginning, but this is not necessarily how it stays. Things can shift their value of truth through time, or as I said relevance.

There’s still a grey area on how much I can take my own assessment of your coping abilities/maturity as a main rule in deciding what I tell you. I think there’s an interplay of personality context and how I can be present in this context and influence the course of events even after I tell you the truth of past events…
The film was much more food for thought than the play. Shakes you but gives you space to breath. The play had been a lot more food for heart and sensibility, emotivity and empathy with a circuit of life.
Strong cinematography.
Somehow the character of Hedvig is convincing but not she doesn’t come across to me as being as bright as stated. More of a genuine open heart, and then mind. But clever, well played.
I liked the director in the Q&A. A guy I’d have a lot more to talk with. His reference to the use of pauses and silence in film vs theatre quite well explained.

A Bigger Splash   de Luca Guadagnino 

Almost parodic. Dezamagit putin. Adica ii pierd/nu-i simt profunzimea and sometimes don’t get the editing rushes. Par pointless uneori, aparte dar not revealing too much. Just playful. A lot of it remains superficial. As if the right elements, all the spices like sountrack, location, peisaj, personaje, are there, dar all cooked intr-un concoct putin cam fad.

Niste fragmente de muzica de opera misto m-au frapat at some point, combinate, rock, traditional, pop, karaoke etc but it doesn’t lead very far. Replici mai putin generoase in optiuni. Sort of all good things jare there and the filmmakers just brushed them by in front of us, via an exoticism and promise of a great film but in the end somehow passed it by, passed me by. O secventa cu masina condusa pe drumurile inalte ale insulei (/Sicliei) la apus cand marea e acoperita de nori. Soarele rosiatic peste marginea norilor, la orizont, si in loc de mare, nori. Ridica imaginativ nivelul locului la super altitudine, plutind deasupra. Mi-aminteste de imaginile acelea din Alpes d’Huez de asta iarna. Dar si de imaginea aceea a lunii care tot apune, tot se arunca in nori si mare si luceste de dincolo de genuni, aproape de cealalta parte a curburii Pamantului. Vazuta din avionul ce decola din Miami atunci cand am facut tranzitul dinspre Bolivia – La Paz spre Europa acum 1.5 ani.

30 Octombrie 2014  WATCHEDWILDDUCKTONIGHTFEEL ODed on emotions and words that hit you wash through you swivel and turn inside you and then hit u again DOUBLEHITDOSELIKEIDIDNT EXPECTBUTWHATSTOEXPECTFROMNORMALLIFE?justnormalstuff and this is hownormal feels. all was not more than regular emotional stories that wd just resonate with day to day experience of living, just living and being there when things happen, lovelifechildrenfamilyandtheregularANORMALITYofbeing, even revolted at the banality of what day to day shocks truly are, ANDTHENUWATCHITHAPPENINGTO o t h e r s as if to yourself andstart whispering these feelings back into your history. remember reMEMber REmembER…this is how it feels like when your heart drops like a stone and your adrenaline messes up with your mind but S L l l ooo h l l L Y please… open up your heart and let it explode in slooowm o t i o n. it will hit u later. youjustODed butyouwill real-ize it later when u try to wake up but u can’t … dragging your breath through the pulsesStronGpalpitating viaVia agonizing again on the edge of the bed. i still remember this night when i sat aside by my lover and felt the ceiling parting away with me. a world of overlove parting away with me with rapid sorrow. the memory of it imprinted in my retina had turned into a visual effect when my    self    stopped processing it in anyotherway. so transformed into a zoomout … a dan pita effect of me running after the essence of it but IT escaping me with every second by simply zooming O U T t t t… this is the stamp of a lost world i wd rpt when words wd fail me, this is how i wd come to translate reality and memorise defeat, i wd freeze this moment inside like a need for distorted perspectives. So tonight I climbed a bike and let it roll slowly on the pavement standing up on the pedals and watching the heights of Barbican slide out a cold embracing view out of the night into the fog pulse after pulse till my eyes unlocked the words in me. a play that has been so much about words that it reminded me how much I NEEED their rhythm and breath musicality and waves that thread an overlay of meaning beyond letters. I would sit hours after this on my balcony inspiring the drops of wet air like words again as the night wd doll out foggy mindscapes. I didn’t feel the rush after the play, in fact quite an emotional balance as soon as it finished. It took a talk with a frd abt the day’s work and the vertigo of emotions to tip the balance and let all that storm of lifenormalities rift through me moreaNdMOre&mORE ca un aer tare ca sa ma buseasca de tot o ora si ceva mai tarziu cand toate formele de verbalizare audio, vizuale sau tactile au țesut laolalta experienta zilei in ceva greu de suportat. I was crouching over to release ghemul acela din piept and kept thinking: ahh ce as mai fi facut dragoste cu ea in noaptea aceea de demult in care m-am pierdut in sera din barbican. A greenhouse rush into sensual extravagance to overcome and conquer it all. Ahh how I wish she was here!