Newsgroup: it.arti.cinema
Titolo: Strade Perdute

E' vero che di L. H. nel gruppo se ne e' gia' parlato, pero' avevo
tralasciato di partecipare al discorso non avendo visto ancora mezzo
fotogramma del film. L'incontro fatale e' ora avvenuto, ergo posso
permettermi di...chiedere aiuto...sinceramente ,pur amando le
atmosfere tipiche di D.L., il senso di mistero, di angoscia e sorpresa
di cui e' capace in tante sequenze, devo ammettere che mi e' mancata
la favella per rimettere insieme tutti i pezzi. 
Per quanto sono riuscito ad interpretare ho visto solamente un uso
molto "personale" della dimensione temporale, un intrecciarsi di
storie e vicende che ,spesso, potrebbero essere la medesima realta'
vista da punti di vista differenti, oppure piani di realta' diverse
che "casualmente" prendono ad intersecarsi.
In particolare non mi spiego cosa sia successo al ragazzo quella
fatidica sera di cui i genitori ,e la di lui girl, parlano; che dire
poi della frase con cui lei lo "lascia", quel riferimento a
"..lasciare in pace tutti i membri della sua famiglia.." che senso ha
? Come fa il bravo sassofonista ad "evadere" ? La capanna che esplode
? Le ragazze sono una, due, la stessa trasformantesi, o cosa ?
Insomma i punti oscuri son parecchi non e' che mi aiutereste a
dipanare la matassa ?
PS
La scenda dell' inseguimento con "lezioncina stradale" e' proprio
spassosa, pero' mi ha lasciato da pensare la potenza del motore della
Mercedes, 1400 cavalli mi sembrano veramente troppini (vabbe' che era
truccata pero' son quasi 2 formula 1 messe insieme ;-))
 
Srin...@wema.com
"...any integer number is one of my favourite friends..."

 ? Le ragazze sono una, due, la stessa trasformantesi, o cosa ?
Sono tentato di risponderti "cosa".
Anche io non ho capito molto di quello succedeva, ma
non mi importava... come quando vedi un quadro astratto:
o ti piace o non ti piace, ma non cerchi di capire se quello 
che vedi e' un albero o un armadillo.
Non ho capito se ti e' piaciuto o no. Ma sono curioso di
sapere se hai visto "Eraserhead".

 sapere se hai visto "Eraserhead".
Io l'ho visto... un' esperienza terribile. Ho ancora gli incubi col
fagottino che grida disperato.
Ewok
-- 
res...@tin.it
"Ho diviso in due uno Wookie e ho creato gli Ewok"  G. Lucas.
http://www.members.xoom.com/EwokLove/
NG it.fan.starwars, canale IRC: 
irc.filmaker.it
, #guerrestellari 

 dipanare la matassa ?
Continua a porti domande, vedrai che alla fine ci arrivi pure tu.
-- 
"Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage"

Mercedes, 1400 cavalli mi sembrano veramente troppini
Sono circa 1000 di troppo.
Ed inoltre l'auto era sprovvista della targa anteriore, quindi anche il
pignolone non era immune da colpe.
Tornando al film l'ho (finalmente) visto ieri sera e mi è piaciuto un sacco.
Specie nella prima parte mi ha ricordato molto Eraserhead per la recitazione
assente e per il buio onnipresente.
Non so fino a che punto sia utile dipanare la matassa quando buona parte del
lavoro di DL è volto ad ingarbugliarla. Le due storie prese singolarmente
sono molto semplici (un uxoricida geloso, un giovanotto irretito dalla dark
lady). E' l'uso (virtuoso ai limiti dell'abuso) che DL fa di questi
ingredienti, assieme agli stereotipi del thriller, del poliziesco, di tutto
il noir più noir che rende speciale il film.
Un film del genere ti tocca, ti palpa, ti sfotte. O si ama o si odia, due
sentimenti che non hanno poi molto di razionalizzabile.
Per cui l'unica domanda che continuo a pormi è se è meglio Rosanna Arquette
mora o bionda?
PS
I riflessi di luce colorata sul parabrezza dell'auto nel finale non ti hanno
ricordato il viaggio finale di 2001?
Ciao ;-) Davide B
"E se sbaglio corigetemi".



"In heaven everything is fine, in heaven everything is fine".
Ciao ;-) Davide B


Credo sia fondamentale la conoscenza dell'esistenza della teoria degli
"universi paralleli" , formulata da H.Everett nel '57, la quale "si
configura come una metafisica combinatoria , secondo la quale il mondo
e' soltanto una di numerose (o infinite) combinazioni possibili, tutte
effettivamente realizzate".
Esisterebbero quindi piu' universi e il nostro, quello che percepiamo ,
e' solo uno di una serie forse infinita di mondi differenti l'uno
dall'altro anche solo per dettagli trascurabili ....
Notizie tratte da Cineforum , numero375.
Quando vidi il film non sapevo assolutamente cosa pensarne. Mi aveva
colpito per la sua "acidita'" ma per molte cose mi lascio' perplesso.
Queste note mi han permesso di apprezzarlo molto di piu' e forse capire
il senso che Lynch voleva dare alla sua opera.
Ciao

 il senso che Lynch voleva dare alla sua opera.
mi pare piu' valido l'argomento di Alberto: apprezzare Lynch (se lo si
apprezza) rinunciando al culto del verosimile, come se si trattasse di
un quadro astratto
--Nico

Domenico M. Pisanelli wrote:

Concordo, ma se questo puo' aiutare qualcuno che non vuol rinunciare al
culto del verosimile....
Anch'io guardando Lynch il piu' delle volte mi lascio trasportare dal
flusso delle immagini e delle suggestioni delle sue opere, ma devo
ammettere che quest'ultimo film e' stato un po' piu' "hard" del solito

 culto del verosimile....
no, no, rimettiamolo sulla retta via
la ricerca del verosimile a tutti i costi nel cinema e' un delitto
--Nico
PS
ammazza che rapidita' nel rispondere
cio' non e' verosimile, siamo in un film di Lynch?

 fagottino che grida disperato.
Io lo vidi al cineclub "l'Officina", sottotitolato.
Mi ricordo ancora il pollo arrosto sul tavolo che
comincia a muoversi e a buttar fuori roba nera
(sangue o altro), il povero Jack Nance, la fabbrica
sferragliante di gommini per matite, la donna che
canta nel termosifone...
Esiste un film abbastanza simile che pero' non mi
e' rimasto per niente, intitolato "Tales From The Gimli
Hospital".

canta nel termosifone...
Non era un radiatore??
========================================================
un bacio solo, con la lingua e non ti cago piu' il cazzo
                           (due adolescenti, al Virgin)
========================================================
(http:\\
www.duccio.net
)

 Non era un radiatore??
Mmm, forse si'...
[IT] Radiator Days

 cio' non e' verosimile, siamo in un film di Lynch?
Lo scopri solo adesso? 



"The lady in the radiator"

sapere se hai visto "Eraserhead".
No purtroppo, mi sono  perso qualcosa di importante ?


 lady). E' l'uso (virtuoso ai limiti dell'abuso) che DL fa di questi
Eh già!
L'abuso dell'uso del buso porta al...
Michele

L'abuso dell'uso del buso porta al...
Capottato!!!!!!!
__________________
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Ciao,
Pier


L'abuso del buso fa il busone.
Ciao ;-) Davide B

Davide B ha scritto:

Sbagliato!
L'abuso dell'uso del buso porta al disuso dell'uso del buso.
Michele

 ci recuperarlo lunedi' e spedirtelo...
Fatto. Ecco qua tutto, dichiarazioni di Lynch e trama dal press-kit del
film (l'inglese lo sai, giusto?).
**********************************************
Dubbed by Lynch and Gifford "a 21st-century noir horror film," the film
draws its plot, or rather, its plots, from classic film noirs filled
with desperate men and faithless women, expensive cars and cheap motels.
A mesmerizing meditation on the mysterious nature of identity, LOST
HIGHWAY is the latest film by David Lynch, creator of such modern
masterworks as THE ELEPHANT MAN, BLUE VELVET and WILD AT HEART. Starring
Bill Pullman, Patricia Arquette, Balthazar Getty, Robert Loggia and
Robert Blake, the film expands the horizons of the medium, taking its
audience on a journey through the unknown and the unknowable. Radical,
even for a Lynch film, LOST HIGHWAY is not only about the human psyche,
it actually seems to take place inside it.
(zac zac)
Set in a city that looks suspiciously like Los Angeles but which is
actually a place of Lynch's own imagining, LOST HIGHWAY - like LA - is
both blazingly modern and resolutely retro in look and feel. Dubbed by
Lynch and Gifford "a 21st-century noir horror film," the film draws its
plot, or rather, its plots, from classic film noirs filled with
desperate men and faithless women, expensive cars and cheap motels.
From this inventory of imagery, Lynch fashions two separate but
intersecting stories, one about a jazz musician (Pullman), tortured by
the notion that his wife is having an affair, who suddenly finds himself
accused of her murder. The other concerns a young mechanic (Getty),
drawn into a web of deceit by a temptress who is cheating on her
gangster boyfriend. These two tales are linked by the fact that the
women in both are played by the same actress (Arquette) and may, in
fact, be the same woman. The men in each are connected by a mysterious,
mind-blowing turn of events that calls into question their very
identities.
Unfolding with the logic of a dream, which can be interpreted but never
explained, LOST HIGHWAY is punctuated by a series of occurrences that
simply can't have occurred: one man turns into another; a woman who may
be dead seduces the man who might have killed her; a man phones himself
and - inexplicably - is at the other end of the line to receive his own
call! As post-modern noir detours into the realm of science fiction, it
becomes apparent that in LOST HIGHWAY, the only certainty is
uncertainty. That, and the fact that David Lynch remains one of the most
distinctive and fascinating artists working in film today.
"Barry and I called it 'a 21st-century noir," Lynch
recalls, explaining his affection for the genre as follows: "There's a
human condition there - people in trouble, people led into situations
that become increasingly dangerous. And it's also about mood and those
kinds of things that can only happen at night.
Lynch trained and began his artistic career in painting - (he still
creates canvases that are exhibited internationally)- so it is
unsurprising that even his earliest work on film has been described in
terms of painting. From ERASERHEAD onwards, his distinctive style has
been called "expressionistic" and, like the expressionists, he places a
premium on conveying emotions that are communicated by the distortion of
color, shape, space and time in a highly personal way. He has also been
compared to the surrealists who, in the words of Andre Breton, believed
in "the omnipotence of the dream." In keeping with this movement, his
films are rebellious experiments in irrationality and absurdity that
bring an almost psychoanalytic approach to sex, dreams, and the
unconscious.
Lynch himself disavows membership in any specific artistic "school,"
even as he acknowledges certain preferences and influences: "I love
Surrealism and I love Expressionism," he says, "but, I had never seen
THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI until after I had done ERASERHEAD." He goes
on to say, "Ideas are the thing, and they just come out in a certain
way, based on what you love and what you're feeling. Later on, you find
out that you're in some sort of school!"
Regardless of what label one tries to put on him, Lynch, like all modern
artists -- irrespective of their labels -- brings a radically new
attitude toward both the past and the present and, in his exploration of
the film medium -- a medium that has remained suprisingly realistic in
its first century of existence -- he reveals a modernism that has long
been taken for granted in painting and music, but which is rarely
exhibited on screen. "In my mind," he says, "it's so much fun to have
something that has clues and is mysterious -- something that is
understood intuitively rather than just being spoonfed to you. That's
the beauty of cinema, and it's hardly ever even tried. These days, most
films are pretty easily understood, and so people's minds stop working."
Displaying an obvious affection for abstraction, Lynch's films have
become increasingly non-narrative, fueled less and less by what one
might call "story' and increasingly emphasizing mood, tone, feelings,
and a highly subjective vision of the world. Unlike WILD AT HEART, which
was drawn from a pre-existing novel by Barry Gifford, LOST HIGHWAY was
actually born from a mere phrase from one of Gifford's novels: "Barry
wrote this book Night People," Lynch recalls, "and in it, it had a
phrase 'Lost Highway.' And I said, 'Barry, I love these two words. We
should make something that's called Lost Highway' and he said 'Let's
write it."' Apart from this, Lynch and Gifford drew inspiration from
film noir. "Barry and I called it 'a 21st-century noir,"' Lynch recalls,
explaining his affection for the genre as follows: "There's a human
condition there - people in trouble, people led into situations that
become increasingly dangerous. And it's also about mood and those kinds
of things that can only happen at night. You can just take that," he
concludes, "and run with it your own way."
From this departure point, Lynch and Gifford fashioned a script that
actually subverts the rules of conventional filmmaking. Ending virtually
where it begins (and full of interior repetitions), the film is
structured somewhat like a circle, although it is far less simple than
that. Taking a twist at a pivotal point - a twist that turns the
narrative inside out - "it's a Moebius strip," observes Lynch. "We
talked about that while we were making it."
At its outset, LOST HIGHWAY appears to be the story of Fred Madison
(Pullman), a successful jazz musician married to Renee, a beautiful
brunette who seems strangely withdrawn. A disturbing study of
contemporary marital malaise, this chapter of the film explores Fred's
escalating anxiety and insecurity as he begins to realize that Renee may
be leading a double life. He has much cause for concern: though Renee
says she will be waiting for him while he is out performing, Fred's call
home is unanswered and her bed lies empty. One night he escorts her to a
party hosted by a vaguely unsavory man, Andy (Michael Masee), whom he
has not met before, and Renee is less than candid about how she came to
know Andy and his crowd.
At the party, Fred has an alarming encounter with a strange gnome-like
man (Robert Blake, identified in the film's credits as "The Mystery
Man"), who insists that he has met Fred before and has even been in his
home. The "Mystery Man" then proceeds to place a call to Fred's house
and somehow manages to be at the other end of the line to take his own
call. This shocking confrontation with the impossible - a person who
seems to be in two places at once - forces Fred (and the viewer) to ask
certain questions: Why does Fred suddenly feel like a stranger in his
own life? Why does he know so little about his own wife? Why has he no
recollection of encounters that would seem to be unforgettable? And, who
is sending him those mysterious videos that indicate that someone has
access to his home, and has been recording Fred and Renee's intimate
moments?
Before Fred can decipher any of these strange occurrences, something
even stranger happens. In a flash, Renee's bloodied corpse is found in
their bedroom. Though Fred has no memory of the events that led to her
death, he is the sole suspect. In fact, given his recent mental lapses,
he could be the killer. The police apparently subscribe to that theory
and Fred, in short order, is arrested, tried, convicted, and
incarcerated.
Layering yet another mystery upon these mysteries, Lynch next takes his
boldest storytelling leap: one day, during a routine cell-check, Fred is
missing. In his place is a young man, Pete Dayton (Balthazar Getty), who
has a conspicuous wound on his head and who, like Fred before him, has
no recollection of the immediate past. The authorities can't begin to
understand how Fred escaped a maximum security prison or how Pete gained
entry. Ultimately, they are forced to release Pete, who has no visible
connection to either Fred or to Renee's death.
At this point, LOST HIGHWAY becomes Pete's story, and we soon learn that
he is an auto mechanic with a girlfriend, Sheila (Natasha Gregson
Wagner), parents (Gary Busey, Lucy Butler), and a wealthy client, Mr.
Eddie (Robert Loggia), who is probably a gangster and who will let no
one but Pete service his valuable cars. Still disoriented from his
"blackout," Pete has a chance encounter with Mr. Eddie's sultry blonde
mistress, Alice (also played by Patricia Arquette), and before long he
finds himself embroiled in a torrid affair with another man's woman - a
woman about whom he knows nothing and who, like Renee, appears to be
leading a double life.
In keeping with the Moebius strip concept, Pete's story is virtually the
inverse of Fred's: one man is a middle-aged artist who lives comfortably
in the hills above the city, the other a youthful laborer from the
blue-collar row-houses in the valley. Fred loses his woman to another
man, Pete steals another man's woman. Yet, for all these differences,
these two men function as each other's alter egos and their common,
uncommon experiences in confused identity, memory loss, depersonalized
sex and, ultimately, betrayal and death, are equivalent. "They're living
the same relationship," observes Lynch, "but they're living it in two
different ways. They're victims in different ways, in both worlds."
 "They're living the same relationship," observes Lynch,
"but they're living it in two different ways. They're victims in
different ways, in both worlds."
The "transformation" of Fred into Pete, which combines the fancy of
Lewis Carroll with the phantasmagoria of Franz Kafka is, perhaps, the
defining aspect of LOST HIGHWAY in that it denies the audience something
they get from most other movies - a literal explanation. (Lynch even
taunts the audience in a scene at Pete's home during which he asks his
parents what happened to him and his father, eyes brimming with tears,
refuses to answer. The implication is that the father has an
explanation, but can't bring himself to utter it. Perhaps this is Lynch
telling us that he, too, has an answer but that we, like Pete, will have
to find it on our own.)
It is tempting, while viewing LOST HIGHWAY, to make something linear and
literal out of Lynch's Moebius strip. For instance, one could say that
Renee and Alice are actually the same woman, with Renee donning a blonde
wig and sneaking off while Fred is working to cavort with Mr. Eddie,
Andy and Pete. "The only problem," Lynch reminds us, "is that Renee was
already killed." One could also try to explain the Fred/Pete phenomenon
in strictly psychoanalytical terms. Lynch points out that there is an
actual psychological malady called "psychogenic fugue" that "fits Fred
Madison perfectly. When Barry and I were working we didn't know the
term, but it's when a person suddenly takes on a completely different
personality, different friends, everything."
In many ways LOST HIGHWAY is about psychogenic fugue. (Furthermore, the
musical term "fugue," which is defined as "a musical form composed for
multiple instruments or voices in which the subject is announced in one
voice and then developed by another," is highly applicable to the film.)
However, if psychogenic fugue were Fred's problem - if it were simply
that he had developed a new identity for himself - how would one explain
a new family, new body, and new fingerprints?
Easy explanations aside, Lynch maintains that the answers are
nonetheless there. "There are explanations for a billion things in life
that aren't so understandable, and yet inside - somewhere - they are
understandable. There are things that happen to people that can be
understood in terms of jealousy, or fear, or love. Maybe not in a
rational, intellectual way." Lynch insists that the Fred/Pete
"transformation" and other such occurrences "are not inexplicable." He
continues: "It's like when you are sitting alone, you sometimes have the
feeling that there are different parts of you. There are certain things
that you can do and there are certain things that you would never do
unless there was a part of you that took over. SO, in a way, it's kind
of logical."
Here, it is crucial to point out that grappling with LOST HIGHWAY's
unusual plot will only take the viewer so far. In the end, the film is
no more about its "story' than it is about its unique style. Rather, it
must be seen in its totality - a complete integration of music,
painting, architecture, poetry and drama that fuse to form a spectacle
that is grander than the sum of its parts.
As Lynch himself puts it, "every single element is critical and the film
is never finished until it's finished. You build the whole thing piece
by piece. The script is one thing, but it's not the finished thing or
else you'd just release the script. It forms a blueprint, and as you
start shooting, you get more ideas, and you see things in front of you."
For instance, the mere choice of Los Angeles as the film's setting adds
enormously to the sense of restless, directionless motion that is the
lost highway of the title. Could the film have taken place elsewhere?
"Perhaps," says Lynch, "but you don't know how it would affect it. The
place, the light and the feel - all these things come with the knowledge
that you are looking for things to flesh out your ideas, make them more
right. For me, LA was the right place."
The house inhabited by Fred and Renee is similarly integral to the
film's scheme, combining stylistic elements of yesterday, today and
tomorrow, just as the narrative does. In fact, the house's peculiar
design could almost serve as a metaphor for the entire film: when seen
from the front, there are a few small windows, providing limited
opportunities to see inside. But when it is approached from other
angles, one realizes that there are many ways to observe the interior.
The design within the house also corresponds to Lynch's overall vision.
"I always like to have the people stand out, so the furnishings have got
to be as minimal as possible so you can see the people." Lynch adds,
"There were many things that had to be built for the story to work," and
since Lynch has lately expanded his activities to include the design of
furniture, he actually built some pieces for this set himself, most
notably the case that contains the Madison's ominous VCR.
The heightened use of ambient sound, along with the eclectic blend of
music, are additional ingredients that Lynch works prominently into the
overall conception of his film. "Half of the film is picture," he notes,
"the other half is sound. They've got to work together. I keep saying
that there are ten sounds that will be correct and if you get one of
them, you're there. But there are thousands that are incorrect, so you
just have to keep on letting it talk to you and feel it. It's not an
intellectual sort of thing."
Similarly, with the music, which ranges from old standards done in a new
manner, to utterly contemporary pieces that contain haunting echoes from
the past, Lynch's process is intuitive. "I listened to tons of music,"
he says, "and some of it talks to me for this scene or that. I don't
really know why, but each piece that ends up in the film supports the
scene and makes the whole greater than the sum of the parts."
Ultimately, discussing the individual parts that form the whole of LOST
HIGHWAY is something David Lynch is both unwilling and unable to do.
"It's a dangerous thing," he notes, "to say what a picture is. If things
get too specific, the dream stops. When you talk about things, unless
you're a poet, a big thing becomes smaller."
"It's not like I'm trying to cop out," he continues, "but where these
things come from, I honestly don't know. Right now," the director
confides, "I'm trying to find my next film and it's not here yet. I'm
fishing, and maybe tomorrow it will bob to the surface. From where does
it bob? From an area outside our consciousness. But at one time or
another, it meets your consciousness and then you know it."
"Once an idea comes," he concludes, "it comes with all this power, like
a gigantic spark. And everything is contained in it, and it thrills your
soul. You know just what to do from then on. It's complete."

"In heaven everything is fine, in heaven everything is fine".
Miranda Sex Garden?
---
Graziano Montanini - Reggio Emilia - Tel.0522/293688 - ICQ 2064857 - 26 anni
By any other name a rose would smell as sweet.
Fan n.1 di Ratman

L'abuso dell'uso del buso porta al disuso dell'uso del buso.
Lei mi confonde. Ma non mi convince.
Ciao ;-) Davide B

 Miranda Sex Garden?
AHAH! Confessa! Tu *non* hai visto Eraserhead!
[IT] The truth revealed


L'abuso dell'uso del buso porta al disuso dell'uso del buso.
Sbagliato!
L'abuso dell'uso del buso e' il pazzo sollazzo del cazzo.


AHAH! Confessa! Tu *non* hai visto Eraserhead!
L'ho visto , ma l'unica cosa che mi ricordo e' la macchina che produce
gomme da cancellare.


>


Grazie dei consigli di visione e documentazione.
Per quanto riguarda l'attore "clownesco" non mi riferivo alla sua
entita' , nel senso che ricordavo si trattasse di due persone diverse,
quanto all' atmosfera che lo circonda.
In ogni caso e' un' impressione che mi hai indirettamente confermato
visto che (mi pare) anche tu hai pensato al personaggio di T.P. che mi
era sovvenuto.


 immagini, certi richiami, certi personaggi. 
Se puo' aiutarti, that was my tru review (era sulla Horror Weekly di
luglio/agosto - fine pubblicita':
Lost Highway
                Strade perdute
"Odio le telecamere. Preferisco ricordare le cose a modo mio". Ed e'
cosi', ognuno a modo suo, che va guardato questo film: senza difese,
senza filtri, senza cercare di ricostruire una storia nata decostruita.
"Odio le telecamere", dice Bill Pulmann nell'ultimo film di Lynch, e
Lynch sostituisce la telecamera con lo sguardo dello spettatore, che
meta' subisce - spaventato, divertito, affascinato - e meta', quella
piu' importante - riscrive la storia con gli attori, finalmente
co-autore nel suo pieno diritto.
Non un film facile, ma sicuramente un film horror: l'horror vero, quello
che terrorizza con le pieghe nascoste degli oggetti familiari, poco
splatter e molto psicologico, ma assolutamente e totalmente perturbante,
anche quando cambia bruscamente strada verso il comico con frequenti
incursioni nel poliziesco: collage di generi con l'inquietudine come
denominatore comune.
Un uomo insicuro, una donna meta' dark lady meta' moglie insoddisfatta,
un bravo ragazzo degli anni '50: sono tante, e si intrecciano, le strade
delle vite dei protagonisti di questo film che incrocia piu' trame con
le inquadrature, la musica stupenda, gli effetti sonori. 
Un senso non c'e', perche' ognuno ci trova il suo, e non perche' il film
non ne abbia: e' anzi proprio l'arrendersi all'incapacita' di una mente
di vedere la realta', figuriamoci raccontarla. Cosi' come la memoria
delle macchine e' ormai in grado di falsare la realta', distruggendo
l'ambizione positivista di uno sguardo oggettivo, la mente umana vive e
riscrive i fatti, mutando faccia, vivendo i sogni, creando ubique figure
capaci di osare quello che solo si sogna, la cattiveria sepolta in
quella parte di noi dove una casa brucia al contrario, ogni volta, per
sempre.
Lasciate a casa i pregiudizi, godetevi la sospensione non solo
dell'incredulita' ma anche della tirannia aristotelica della trama, e
prendete con Lynch la mezzeria inquadrata all'inizio del film: quello
ipnotico e' l'unico percorso che vi permettera' di godere pienamente di
questo bellissimo film, che rida' nuova vita all'horror rantolante di
vecchie storie ormai rancide e condannate al lieto fine. La catarsi non
serve piu', urge un pugno in piena faccia, mezzo estremo che Lynch ci
porge con un sorriso gessoso.
-- 
"E' dai difetti della Natura, non dalle sue leggi,
che dipende la possibilita' della nostra esistenza"
J.D. Barrow, "L'universo come opera d'arte"


Bah! Versione tristemente moderna, priva dei molteplici significati reconditi
presenti nella prima. Sì, insomma, la stessa differenza che corre tra un film
hollywoodiano e uno europeo.
Michele

gomme da cancellare.
E non ti ricordi la "lady in the radiator" con i basettoni bianchi e la
faccia da scoiattolo che cantava questa soave canzone? L'unico momento di
paradiso del film.
(IT) Memoria selettiva.
Ciao ;-) Davide B

 era sovvenuto.
Ah, ben, allora si'... Ma allora anche l'uomo alto di TP, tutti i
personaggi di Eraserhead e altri che ora non mi sovvengono.

 paradiso del film.
Non erano basettoni bianchi, erano deformita' della faccia.
[IT] Dilettanti!


faccia da scoiattolo che cantava questa soave canzone?
Proprio no. Pero' perlomeno adesso so che quella delle "Miranda Sex Garden"
e' una cover.



Mi facevano troppa paura e non guardavo bene.
Ciao ;-) Davide B