There was a path in the darkness ahead...
una razon x la cual ser un critico
encontre esto en un blog
es de un critico americano..
no se su nombre pero no es "famoso"
me gusta lo q dice--- para ser director, creo q hay q ser un cinéfilo y para un crítico cinéfilo es lo mejor que hay
(hasta que empiezan a dejar cinéfilos y todo se vuelve rutina)
One night, young, I saw both Nashville on a big screen and The 400 Blows, uncut, Janus Films logo and all, on late night TV. And that was it. There was a path in the darkness ahead, like through the thicket across the way. Many movies followed. Many places followed. Jobs with stories all their own, waiting to be retold. Stories - movies - still hold weight for me in the smaller, smallest details. Things like the way someone speaks, with intonation and with his or her hands and body. The light flickering in their eyes as they recollect. A woman's hair in the breeze. Afternoon light falling across a patterned carpet. The haphazard, cumulative details of a distant urban alleyway (especially signed in an unfamiliar idiom). How a man looks at a woman; how a woman looks at a man. (Truffaut described similar vivid details as "privileged moments.") I can't imagine how my personal history, my work and travels before doing what I do now, could have led to anything other than fixing onto how stories are constructed, stories that capture the weight of community, that are oral histories widened to the scale of myth, and of landscapes, even unpopulated - especially unpopulated - that are dreams in and of themselves.
encontre esto en un blog
es de un critico americano..
no se su nombre pero no es "famoso"
me gusta lo q dice--- para ser director, creo q hay q ser un cinéfilo y para un crítico cinéfilo es lo mejor que hay
(hasta que empiezan a dejar cinéfilos y todo se vuelve rutina)
One night, young, I saw both Nashville on a big screen and The 400 Blows, uncut, Janus Films logo and all, on late night TV. And that was it. There was a path in the darkness ahead, like through the thicket across the way. Many movies followed. Many places followed. Jobs with stories all their own, waiting to be retold. Stories - movies - still hold weight for me in the smaller, smallest details. Things like the way someone speaks, with intonation and with his or her hands and body. The light flickering in their eyes as they recollect. A woman's hair in the breeze. Afternoon light falling across a patterned carpet. The haphazard, cumulative details of a distant urban alleyway (especially signed in an unfamiliar idiom). How a man looks at a woman; how a woman looks at a man. (Truffaut described similar vivid details as "privileged moments.") I can't imagine how my personal history, my work and travels before doing what I do now, could have led to anything other than fixing onto how stories are constructed, stories that capture the weight of community, that are oral histories widened to the scale of myth, and of landscapes, even unpopulated - especially unpopulated - that are dreams in and of themselves.
posted by Alberto Fuguet at 10:44 p. m.
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