Okay I admit it. It 'been a long, but long time since I saw the movie and I find myself talking about it. I had this post in draft form by January 23 and, as usual, I dragged for almost a month before speaking. Well, not that much has been lost, the delay comment on this film was not aimed at creating some kind of anxiety of waiting. Weeks have been very busy practical rather than fashionable. But the affairs of everyday life Ballestrero and nobody cares nothing for this, or that you read, you have my infinite respect. For the prologue, I refer you to the successful description Cinefilante the friend early in his commentary on the film itself. Cinema Eden in Rome has 4 rooms. We touched is the smallest. To understand: the one that has the same capacity bus of nuns , maybe just more comfortable. In this picture we are going to Lilliputian vision of this visionary film. From beginning to end, the black and white was made by the master, veiled only by a touch of cyan that gave an almost bluish hue.
Somewhere nestled between the Swiss Alps rises a manor house converted into a private clinic where you will find a high price to welcome Dr. Krueger (ominous name for a type altogether quiet), willing to give you what you go looking for: a beautiful assisted suicide. Or to use a more soft and certainly more widespread: the sweet death. They appear one after the other queer and grotesque characters with a common desire to do away with the world. A comedian with a cancer that does not exist, a nerd Luxembourg full of neuroses as money, a transvestite cabaret star left without a voice (Zazie de Paris ), a traveling salesman and an old gambler who, by dint of hazards, has also played his wife. This ramshackle team begins to become familiar with the procedure of indirect euthanasia that Dr. Krueger offers until, in the middle of the night, a shadowy figure who prowled the night in the kitchen of the house died in the flames burned alive. Zac! Like an avalanche the film falls into the most grotesque absurd that the human mind (probably diseased) could never give birth. All compounded by the fact that the volunteers about to die become the guests of the villa bersagliio of local poachers, proabilmente annoyed by the presence of such a place in their valleys. Then as suddenly goes all the desire to die. You can easily change his mind when Death is seeking you and not vice versa.
From this point on is drawn in by the handful "Ten Little Indians" by Agatha Christie. Prisoners of the clinic, with no possibility of escape, they will fall one after the other although with some exceptions.
Can not find the key to the problem in the fall steeply to the absurdity that the whole story takes up the bleak ending.
climax of absurdity is to attend the scene where the ex-gambler, finding nothing better to do and feeling a certain pleasure, the waitress suggested the clinic by poachers to hide in a coffin. Place the lid on the box, good gambler there seals it inside armed with a screw-unscrew efficient Bosch. She screams, bangs his fist on the cover, the despair and agony. Him close the last screw, pick up and walked away as a sly grin lights the face bearded. Final desolate with obesity or transvestite who sings the Marseillaise in the desolate silence of the snow-covered garden in front of the clinic, with a deep voice broke down and a broken radiator.
The film was described to the Rome Film Festival with the words: comedy white and black, very black and irresistible, and grotesque scorrettissima.
I would not have seen anything like that.
0 comments:
Post a Comment