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arquivo do mês: [02, 2008]

Filmes vistos em Fevereiro

>> CINEMA

sweeney todd ~ tim burton, 2007 ***
(lusomundo dolce vita antas, porto)

sè, jiè ~ ang lee, 2007 *****
(lusomundo dolce vita antas, porto)

the darjeeling limited ~ wes anderson, 2007 ***
(uci arrábida, gaia)

michael clayton ~ tony gilroy, 2007 ***
(medeia cidade do porto, porto)

there will be blood ~pt anderson, 2007 *****
(medeia cidade do porto, porto)

atonement ~ joe wright, 2007 ****
(lusomundo gaiashopping, gaia)

(nota 1: raro mês este de fevereiro – muitos filmes vistos no cinema e nenhum em dvd; nota 2: os filmes vistos no fantasporto2008 seguirão em separado.)

velhos

coen.jpeg

[no country for old man ~ ethan & joel coen, 2007]

1.2

FantasPorto [2]

rivoli, grande auditório 21h15

ela: ainda me lembro do fantas no carlos alberto.
ele: sim, belas noites essas.
ela: aquilo é que era terror.
ele: mas tu tapavas os olhos.
ela: pois… mas eram melhores.

{não há ano nenhum que não ouça o saudosismo por essas noites no carlos alberto…}

FantasPorto ’08 [1]

fantas.jpeg

25.fev a 9.mar ± porto

será ‘musica no coração’ uma obra do cinema fantástico ou do terror português?

valores familiares

há quem pense que os hospitais foram feitos para despejar os velhinhos nos fins-de-semana, alturas de festas e férias. tudo em prol do bem estar dos valores familiares…

capuchos

phisalys, que podem ser encontrados à venda por €1.90 em caixinhas de plástico no pingo doce.

sernicar

queda de chuva miudinha.

mixtape 07: winter sun [b]

mixtape_sete_b.jpeg

01. recurring dream [siljie nes]
02. tempo tempo [lindstrom & prins thomas]
03. inner island [el perro del mar]
04. dancing behind my eyelids [múm]
05. detects on my affection [peter bjorn and john]
06. she doesn’t live here anymore [jay jay johanson]
07. saeglópur [sigur rós]
08. the story of impossible [peter von poehl]
09. hand on your heart [josé gonzález]
10. hands remember [seabear]
11. i’d rethare dance with you [kings of convenience]
12. you are the ligth [jens lekman]
13. heartbeats [the knife]
14. wanderlust [bjork]

14 músicas, 62.05 minutos, 86.1mb (ouvir , download)

com mais chuva, desta vez.

apostas & resultados

therewillbeblood-lewis.jpeg

adenda (25.fev.08): pela primeira vez vi todos os filmes nomeados a melhor filme nos óscares (raramente tenho curiosidade de ver todos os nomeados, no ano passado vi apenas 2 dos 5 ) – juno totalmente dispensável; michael clayton e atonement bons filmes; there will be blood e no country for old man muito bons, sendo o segundo melhor do que o primeiro (apesar de eu preferir a obra de pt anderson à dos irmãos coen) e apenas pelo segundo ter como fundo um dos melhores livros que li no ano passado. não consigo ficar indiferente a esse filme. se fosse mais seco. mais árido. ainda mais do que é, seria perfeito. fica apenas no muito bom.

aqui ficam as minhas apostas (e que ‘juno’ não ganhe).

(more…)

色,戒

Only now, at this last, tense moment of calm stretched indefinitely out, on this cramped balcony, the artificial brightness of its lamplight contrasting grubbily with the pale sky visible through the door and windows downstairs, could she permit herself to relax and inquire into her own feelings. Somehow, the nearby presence of the Indian, bent over his writing desk, only intensified her sense of being entirely alone with her lover. But now was not the moment to ask herself whether she loved him; instead she needed to–

He was gazing off into the middle distance, a faintly sorrowful smile on his face. He had never dared dream such happiness would come his way in middle age. It was, of course, his power and position that he had principally to thank; they were an inseparable part of him. Presents, too, were essential, though they needed to be distributed at the correct moments. Given too soon, they carried within an insulting insinuation of greed. Though he knew perfectly well the rules of the game they were playing, he had to permit himself a brief moment of euphoria at the prize that had fallen into his lap; otherwise, the entire exercise was meaningless.

He was an old hand at this: taking his paramours shopping, ministering to their whims, retreating into the background while they made their choices. But there was, she noted again, no cynicism in his smile just then; only sadness. He sat in silhouette against the lamp, seemingly sunk into an attitude of tenderly affectionate contemplation, his downcast eyelashes tinged the dull cream of moths’ wings as they rested on his gaunt cheeks.

He really loves me, she thought. Inside, she felt a raw tremor of shock — them a vague sense of loss.

It was too late.

The Indian passed the receipt to him. He placed it inside his jacket.

“Run,” she said softly.

[lust, caution ~ Eillen Chang, tradução inglesa de Julia Lovell]

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