9.11.11
7.11.11
"For Peixoto, the experience offered by Limite cannot be adequately captured by language, but was made to be felt. Therefore, the spectator should subjugate himself to the images as to “anguished cords of a synthetic and pure language of cinema”. According to the director, his film is “meticulously precise as invisible wheels of a clock”, where long shots are surrounded and linked by shorter ones as in a “planetary system”. Peixoto characterizes Limite as a “desperate scream” aiming for resonance instead of comprehension. “The movie does not want to analyze. It shows. It projects itself as a tuning fork, a pitch, a resonance of time itself”, capturing the flow between past and present, object details and contingence as if it had always “existed in the living and in the inanimate”, or detaching itself tacitly from them."
6.11.11
3.11.11
31.10.11
"Why did I get involved? Is it because Jean-Luc has been my friend for 20 years? Or is it because Jean-Luc is the world’s greatest filmmaker? Jean-Luc Godard is not the only director for whom filming is like breathing, but he’s the one who breathes best. He is rapid like Rossellini, sly like Sacha Guitry, musical like Orson Wells, simple like Pagnol, wounded like Nicholas Ray, effective like Hitchcock, profound like Bergman, and insolent like nobody else. Professor Chiarini, Director of the Venice Film Festival, says: 'There’s cinema before Godard; and cinema after Godard.' It’s true, and as the years pass it’s increasingly clear that Breathless has marked the cinema, that it’s a decisive turning point, like Citizen Kane in 1940. Godard blew the system up, he messed it up, just like Picasso did with painting; and like Picasso, Godard has made everything possible. More prosaically, I can say that I have become a producer of the thirteenth film of Jean-Luc Godard because I noticed that the people who invested money in the preceding twelve masterpieces got rich."
30.10.11
27.10.11
24.10.11
23.10.11
20.10.11
“
There is much to be said for contentment and painlessness, for these bearable and submissive days, on which neither pain nor pleasure is audible, but pass by whispering and on tip-toe. But the worst of it is that it is just this contentment that I cannot endure. After a short time it fills me with irrepressible hatred and nausea. In desperation I have to escape and throw myself on the road to pleasure, or, if that cannot be, on the road to pain.
For what I always hated and detested and cursed above all things was this contentment, this healthiness and comfort, this carefully preserved optimism of the middle classes, this fat and prosperous brood of mediocracy.
”18.10.11
12.10.11
"(...) para que serve a vida? não sei. talvez não sirva pra nada. talvez se resuma a um ininterrupto exercício de minimizar perdas. trabalha-se para não morrer de fome. quando já se tem o suficiente, acumulamos para não morrer de fome no futuro. ou para exibir cultura e dinheiro. bebemos sucos naturais e corremos na esteira para retardar nosso apodrecimento físico, ainda que inevitável. entorpecemo-nos de álcool, sexo e congêneres imaginando driblar assim o tédio. amamo-nos na ilusão de eliminar a solidão como condição primária. minimizar perdas. de qualquer modo, é tudo que temos (...)"
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