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Oct 12, 2005

I Moisturized Her

I needed to return to the place of sins in the most sacred day of the year. Not as a coward nor a hero but a simple person. I’m getting naked one more time to cover my body and soul with more strength. Muse is in the air, creator is in my mind, sweet is in my mouth. Now she is mother, now she isn’t, now she is. We are strangers in the night and lovers in the day.

Captives by the mystery, curiosity takes one of our lives but satisfaction brings them back. There is no violence when there is innocence. Malcolm in one ear, Luther in the other, all is possible to do the right thing. We live another unforgettable morning between breakfast, thoughts and caresses. This time is not about negotiating. Whispers are dyeing by laughter.

I need to come back to the place of sins in the most sacred day of the year. I cut her and a red drop was seen until I spliced her again with a second hug even with more affection and desire. It’s not enough. Now I have the amazing duty of moisturizing her bristled skin. From my mind to the paper, from the paper to the screen, from my body to the atmosphere. Feeding her, healthy me, healing us...

... and she will look at me while I look at her on the screen.

Sep 26, 2005

I Cut Her

Can a person be considered a coward while trying to be a hidden hero?


Can a hidden hero be a public muse while trying to avoid it?


Can a public muse be a creator at the same time?


Can a creator still be seen as the most sensual mother?


Can the most sensual mother become the sweetest child?


Can the sweetest child be inspired by the most sensual mother?


Can the most sensual mother be captive of a stranger alien and a killer curiosity?


Can a stranger curiosity suggest violence with an innocent film cutter?


Can an innocent film cutter convert an editing room into unforgettable scenes?


Can unforgettable scenes be made just by bodies and whispers?


Can bodies and whispers negotiate different spaces when they want the same space?


“Que tenga un dia bello”, she told me with a tender voice. An unconditional friend sung to us while he smiled. We also smiled although we had to say goodbye. After an intense hug I cut her in the editing room. A red drop was seen until I spliced her again with a second hug even with more affection and desire. Inside the editing room… I thought about her day and night, and I watched her a thousand times. Outside the editing room… I want to see her again.

Sep 15, 2005

Empty Mirror


I can’t find you in your home
because you have no home anymore.
I can’t look at you through your mirror
because you have no mirror, no more…

I tried to dream about you
and I touched your dry and smooth skin.
But the nightmare flooded you
and your family. What is your sin?

The news and the Exodus bore my heart
and my own water also floods my home,
I can’t be there or here, I’m falling apart.
I have no direction, I just can roam.

Teddy bears, promises, regrets, food or money:
Nothing is enough.
I need you, I’m egoist… sorry.
I just want your laugh.

Alone I feel I’m nobody,
so I go for you with my boat.
I feel the death, I’m petrified.
I want to have hope, but even she is horrified.

I can’t find you in your home
because you have no home anymore.
I can’t look at you through your mirror
because you have no mirror, no more…

The only mirror is mine.
Its surface always shines.
But when I stand in front of it,
I can’t see your face, I can’t see mine.


Dedicated to all Katrina's victims. We can lose everything except our hope and memory.


Aug 11, 2005

Soul



I saw you this afternoon in the "E" train to World Trade Center, dressed in proudly african black. I couldn't resist looking to your fleshy bright lips. I dreamt about eat them as a kid wants a marshmallow sweet. The destiny emptied the seat by your side. Dissimulating the desire I sat next to you and our arms were rubbing each other with the movement of the train. You get off in Penn Station, but I stayed with you.

I saw you yesterday morning at the University. I thought you were in London but your big smile calmed me down. Prettier than ever, you talked to me but I didn't listen to you. Your dark breasts filled your white sleeveless with an ancestral presence, so powerful and contrasting that just remembering the ritual could be enough to get rain falling over the hot Union Square, and a T-Storm ray shocking me. Please come back.

I talked to you last week by the phone. Your girlish voice made me laugh. Your adult thoughts made me cry. I imagined your brown ass buttered and your neck with a sugar path to follow with my tongue until your ears. Please repeat it. It's not to understand you, but to enjoy you again. I want you to calling me again even when I know that the next weekend I will not see you either. Even if I never met you I feel that you are mine.

I observed to you last month in the Harlem streets. Walking with your kids, going to the sacred hairdresser late in the night, doing the laundry, screaming to a neighbor from balcony to balcony. Your voice sounded similar to my father's goddess Ella. Your meat moved as dancing, your giant globes could feed the world. I want to apprehend them and be flooded with chocolate, while you sing in my ears like my super model Aretha.

I watched your picture last year. It was a raw witness about one of the most bloody and shameful episodes of the humanity. You, Delia the American-born slave, seemed to have lost your soul. Your pointed nipples had been made to be delightfully sucked, but savages treating you as a savage extracted their main attraction. Nevertheless your generation survived in Georgia and Carolina, like my survivors in Egypt and Auschwitz. Your lost soul stayed in the air during all these years to reappear in Harlem, my phone, the University and the "E" train. And I desire them as I desire you, Delia...

...because you were not a free woman, but maybe now you have a free soul.


Notes:

"Africaine épanouie", painted in 1996 by Augustin Kassi, Bouake, Côte d'Ivoire.

An image of Delia can be seen in the following link at Harvard College:
http://preserve.harvard.edu/exhibits/daguerreotype/page10.html


May 11, 2005

The Sky Is Crying

"The sky is crying...", sings Stevie Ray Vaughan in my ears, after I left the theater already empty, and it is not a coincidence. Nina's Tragedies (Ha-Asonot Shel Nina, 2003), written and directed by Savi Gabizon, is not just a tragedy but a song of hope, like "Hatikva", the Israeli National Anthem. This film is not just a comedy drama but a healthy self-critic. Like classic Jewish jokes, with which usually Jewish people are the first in laughing. From a man bursting plastic bubbles delightfully while Nina (Ayelet Zurer) cries about her dead husband Haimon (Yoram Hattab), to a woman with big awful stings in her face that believes a comment about her "big improvement since yesterday"... All of them caressing the cynicism and refreshing the philosophy that even in worst tragedies, humans need to defense against suffering, and laugh is the best medicine.

All Nina's tragedies are narrated by Nina's nephew Nadav (Aviv Elkabeth) -in his debut-. And sometimes we forget about Nina, to dive in the film like in those books that we can enjoy even in a crowded subway, because we loose the sense of time. Gabizon has a literary richness without over-sighting everyday dialogues. Nina suffers a marriage that is destined to fail, passing through dead, psychotic sensations, a forbidden love with Avinoam (Alon Abutbul) charged of mix-up, and other little inconveniences turned also into tragedy by domino effect. Young Nadav is more mature than most of the adults, like friend Menahem (Dov Navon) that spies Nina with him, father Amnon (Shmil Ben Ari) that cannot face up the separation with her wife, and eccentric mother Alona (Anat Waxman), that brings home different lovers in front of him, but overprotect him from looking at his sick father.

The cast was carefully chosen, most of them with a huge experience in Israeli films and TV. From beautiful, expressive and acclaimed Ayelet Zurer, to versatile Yoram Hattab, or moving Alon Abutbul (highly demanded in local productions), to a lovely and simple but deep Dov Navon, and accurate Anat Waxman and Shmil Ben Ari. Gabizon returns to the big screen after eight years of absence since Lovesick On Nana Street, another comedy drama which brings us insane love under a realistic portrayal of a crazy house in the dead-end Israeli suburbs.

Some rare scenes produce a kind of noise in Nina's Tragedies that for some moments wake up spectators from nightmare with the delicate and difficult touch of tragicomedy. Yoram Hattab reappearance as Alex maybe is a turn to the screw almost extreme, but Jewish heritage and culture is accustomed to extremes, from the usual other's overprotection to the historical persecutions. It’s a society that with laughter, weeping, a sharp criticism, and a strong union has survived collectively to more than one tragedy. Now in the midst of one of the bigger Israel's economic crisis, with around 20% of the population living below the poverty line, Gabizon shows more extreme situations, without which this would be a totally different film. Nina has so bad luck that not only the new neighbor is a replica of her dead husband, but also when she is going to the hospital to give birth to "little Haimon", the car breaks and suddenly begins to rain.

The sky is crying, and this time is not only about Shakespeare, Beckett or Nina's tragedies, but also the rest of character's tragedies. Nadav in love with his aunt, his mother full of lovers but empty of love, his father with a terminal illness, Menahem resigned and passive, Avinoam without Nina, and Nina as usual, crying too. In the exploration of this tragicomedy, the relationships between man and supernatural fate are worked mixing humor with sadness. In his book Poetics, Aristotle argued that the object of tragedy is to arouse a feeling of awe and wonder in the audience and have a cathartic affect, to purge the audience of these emotions. And we can feel that here. Mel Brooks used to say: "Tragedy is when I cut my finger; comedy is when you fall down an open sewer and die". Just in the beginning, a wheel that seems to break while carrying a coffin announces it; a loud utterance of emotion in the shape of drops. Those clear solutions full of protein that we don't want them but we need them: memories, pain, anger, or an uncontrolled laughter, all of them extreme emotional feelings.

Rituals and Hasidic dance invade Israel streets that I still haven't visited but it seems like I was there before. Suddenly that joy is steamed up with Amnom's face, taking consciousness about his near death. A military crew goes to notify a mother about his son's death in terrorist's hands, but something that unfortunately occurs often, is magically depicted with a new acid and funny comment: "Why are you with those white pants? Aren't they used for some popular dance?", says the high range command to Avinoam. One more time, as a Ying Yang symbol, the good and the bad are definitely close and melt down in a same unique thing. And a new smile rises as a defense against tragedies, in a film that won twelve Israeli Academy Awards in 2003, including Best Picture. When lack of hope is overwhelming and seems to be unavoidable, "...the hope will not be lost...", says one "Hatikva"'s verse. And after a lot of mix-up, the encounter finally arrives.

A few days ago I had the possibility of assisting to a Nathaniel Dorsky's conference, writer of Devotional Cinema, experimental filmmaker, and a man with an amazing particular view about life. When I asked him why most of his films show a constant movement, he replied that stillness is always represented in a time and space that generate some movement in itself. A stillness that in shy and quiet Nadav is moving more than ever, while he looks over the sky, smiling and crying. Understanding that we could change destiny, and sometimes happiness is closer than we think. Nina's baby is Cristina's baby in Alejandro Gonzalez Iñarritu's 21 Grams. As "Hatikva", the baby's crying is a song of hope in the midst of tragedies. I leave the theater already empty, and the sky is crying. I think about the parent's pride by the sacred fire that everyone has. I think about hard times and how we can overcome them. For a moment I become Nadav, who like Nina, turns a tragedy into hope.

El Cielo Está Llorando

"The sky is crying..." ("El cielo está llorando"), canta Stevie Ray Vaughan en mis oídos, después que dejo la sala de cine casi vacía, y no es coincidencia. Las Tragedias De Nina (Nina's Tragedies; título original: Ha-Asonot Shel Nina, 2003), escrita y dirigida por Savi Gabizon, no es sólo una tragedia sino una canción de esperanza, como "Hatikva", el Himno Nacional Israelí. Esta película hace de tragicomedia y de sana auto-crítica, como los clásicos chistes judíos, con los cuales usualmente los judíos son los primeros en reírse. Desde un hombre estallando burbujas de plástico deliciosamente cuando Nina (Ayelet Zurer) llora por su esposo difunto Haimon (Yoram Hattab), hasta una mujer con terribles manchas en su cara creyendo un comentario al pasar sobre su "gran mejora desde ayer"... Todos ellos acariciando el cinismo y refrescando la filosofía que aún en las peores tragedias, los seres humanos necesitan defenderse contra el sufrimiento, y la risa es la mejor medicina.

Todas las tragedias de Nina son narradas por Nadav (Aviv Elkabeth, en su debut), el sobrino de Nina. Y algunas veces nos olvidamos de ella para bucear en la película como en aquellos libros que podemos disfrutar incluso en un subterráneo repleto de pasajeros, porque perdemos el sentido del tiempo. Gabizon tiene riqueza literaria sin olvidarse de los diálogos cotidianos. Nina sufre un matrimonio que es destinado a fracasar, pasando a través de la muerte, sensaciones psicóticas, un amor prohibido con Avinoam (Alon Abutbul) cargado de desencuentros y otros pequeños inconvenientes convertidos en tragedia por efecto dominó. El jóven Nadav es más maduro que la mayoría de los adultos como su amigo Menahem (Dov Navon), quien espía a Nina con el, su padre Amnon (Shmil Ben Ari) que no puede afrontar la separación de su mujer, y su exéntrica madre Alona (Anat Waxman) que trae a su hogar diferentes amantes frente a su hijo, pero lo sobreprotege de mirar a su padre enfermo.

El elenco fue cuidadosamente elegido. La mayoría de ellos con una amplia experiencia en el cine y la televisión Israelí. Desde la hermosa, expresiva y aclamada Ayelet Zurer, al versátil Yoram Hattab, el emotivo Alon Abutbul (muy demandado por la producción local), a un querible, simple pero profundo Dov Navon, y los precisos Anat Waxman y Shmil Ben Ari. Gabizon regresa a la gran pantalla después de ocho años de ausencia desde Mal De Amores En La Calle Nana (Lovesick On Nana Street), otra tragicomedia que trae amores insanos bajo un retrato realista de una casa casi demente en los callejones sin fin de los suburbios israelíes.

Algunas raras escenas producen una especie de ruido en Las Tragedias De Nina, que por algunos momentos despiertan a los espectadores de la pesadilla con el delicado y difícil toque de la tragicomedia. La reaparición de Yoram Hattab como Alex es tal vez un giro de tuerca algo extremo, aunque la herencia y cultura judía suele estar acostumbrada a los extremos, desde la usual sobreprotección a las persecusiones históricas. Una sociedad que con risas, llantos, una crítica aguda y una fuerte unión ha sobrevivido colectivamente a más de una tragedia. En medio de una de las peores crisis económicas de Israel, con cerca del 20% de la población viviendo bajo la línea de pobreza, Gabizon muestra más situaciones extremas, sin las cuales esta sería otra película. Nina tiene tanta mala suerte que el nuevo vecino es la réplica de su difunto esposo, y además cuando ella viaja al hospital para dar a luz al "pequeño Haimon", su automóvil se rompe y repentinamente comienza a llover.

El cielo está llorando, y esta vez no es sólo por Shakespeare, Becket o las tragedias de Nina, sino también por las tragedias del resto de los personajes. Nadav enamorado de su tía, su madre llena de amantes pero vacía de amor, su padre con una enfermedad terminal, Menahem resignado y pasivo, Avinoam sin Nina, y Nina, como siempre llorando. En la exploración de esta tragicomedia, las relaciones entre el hombre y la fé supernatural son trabajadas mezclando humor y tristeza. En su libro Poética, Aristóteles discutía que el objeto de la tragedia era despertar sentimientos de sobrecogimiento y asombro en la audiencia, y tener un efecto catársico para purgar a la audiencia de esas emociones. Nosotros podemos sentirlo en esta película. Mel Brooks solía decir: "Tragedia es cuando me corto el dedo; comedia es cuando tu caes en una alcantarilla que está abierta y te mueres". Desde el comienzo, una rueda que parece romperse mientras lleva un ataúd lo anuncia; un fuerte sonido de emoción en forma de lágrimas. Esa solución cristalina llena de proteínas que no las queremos pero las necesitamos: recuerdos, dolor, ira, o una risa descontrolada, todos ellos sentimientos extremos.

Los rituales y danzas jasídicas invaden las calles de Israel que aún no he visitado pero que siento haber estado allí. Repentinamente la alegría se empaña con el rostro de Amnom, tomando consciencia sobre su muerte cercana. Un grupo de militares va a notificarle a una madre sobre la muerte de su hijo en manos terroristas, pero lo trágico es mostrado con un nuevo comentario cómico y ácido: "¿Qué haces con esos pantalones blancos? No son usados en una danza popular?", dice el comandante de mayor rango a Avinoam. Una vez más, como un símbolo de Ying Yang, lo bueno y lo malo se acercan y fusionan en una misma cosa. Una nueva sonrisa se levanta como defensa contra las tragedias, en una película que ganó doce premios de la Academia Israelí en 2003, incluyendo mejor película. Cuando la falta de esperanza es abrumadora y parece inevitable, "...la esperanza no será perdida...", dice uno de los versos de "Hatikva". Y luego de todos los desencuentros llega el encuentro final.

Unos días atras tuve la posibilidad de asistir a una conferencia de Nathaniel Dorsky, escritor de Cine Devocional (Devotional Cinema), cineasta experimental y un hombre con un asombroso y particular punto de vista sobre la vida. Cuando pregunté por qué la mayoría de sus películas muestran un movimiento constante, él contestó que la quietud siempre es representada en un tiempo y espacio que genera algo de movimiento inevitablemente. Una quietud que en Nadav--a pesar de su timidez y tranquilidad--se mueve más que nunca, mientras mira al cielo sonriendo y aparecen algunas lágrimas. Comprendiendo que podemos cambiar al destino, y algunas veces la felicidad está más cerca de lo que pensamos. El bebé de Nina es el bebé de Cristina en 21 Gramos (21 Grams) de Alejandro Gonzales Iñárritu. Como "Hatikva", el llanto del bebé es una canción de esperanza en medio de la tragedia. Dejo el teatro casi vacío, y el cielo llora. Pienso sobre el orgullo de los padres por el fuego sagrado que cada uno lleva adentro. Pienso en los momentos difíciles y en cómo nos sobreponemos. Por un momento me convierto en Nadav, quien al igual que Nina, hace de la tragedia una esperanza.

Apr 8, 2005

Closer To Life

Death... frightens almost every human, no matter if it occurs by accident, illness, taking a risk or just natural. Every character in this film is close to death, but few of them seem to have any fear. Bad Guy (original title Nabbeun Namja) provokes complex feelings with simplicity. It's a shot in the stomach; it's about abuse and freedom, pain and pleasure, a ruined evil and a pure angel. Released in Korea in 2001, Ki-Duk Kim's film unfortunately arrives after his amazing Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter... and Spring, released in 2003. Kim refreshes us again with three lessons.

First of all, as Robert Bresson used to say, "If the eye is entirely won, give nothing or almost nothing to the ear". And here comes Han-Ki (Jae-Hyeon Jo), a security guard at a humble house of prostitutes. With a big scar in his throat -maybe a battle souvenir-, he is a man of no words, but full of expression. Every time he is calm we relax; every time he explodes we stop breathing. Amused by Sun-Hwa's beauty (Won Seo), he kisses her in front of her boyfriend, in an unpleasant and rude episode where all are publicly humiliated. After that, he finds a way of trapping innocent Sun-Hwa in prostitution.

The second lesson lies in the richness of good casting without the necessity of celebrities. Not only Jo's master work and Seo's transformation are great, but also Duek-Mun Choi and Yun-Tae Kim play defined but simple supporting roles that gain weight during the development of the story. Both take advantage of that growth until the end.

The third and last lesson is about cinema in its pure expression. Simple things and sincere feelings will always be more powerful than any F/X. Han-Ki doesn't look for revenge but love, with egoism and monstrosity, having her closer to him, even if she is with other men. Voyeurism plays a main role as almost the only way to love her. Sun-Hwa tries to escape, but she can't (maybe unconsciously she doesn't want it), and she is forced to grow quickly, and to discover a new world of mixed sensations. Kim returns accurately one more time with repetitions, brutality and sexual obsessions, always keeping alive the thin line between wish and anguish, and a continuous cycle of hope and perdition.

Today's current cinema cares frantically about aesthetics offering a virtually digitized experience nearer to animation than reality. But luckily, even in a dark, violent and unfair story, we can see magic moments when mystical feelings and thoughts are encountered in a mirror, a picture or a landscape. This bad guy frightens, but at the same time, he shows weakness and some kind of tenderness. He is almost a dead man but he still doesn't die, as do the others around him. All of them are closer to... life.

Más Cerca De La Vida

La muerte... asusta a casi todo humano, sin importar si ocurre por accidente, por enfermedad, por tomar un riesgo o simplemente natural. Cada personaje en esta película está cerca de la muerte, pero sólo algunos de ellos parecen tenerle miedo. Chico Malo (Bad Guy; título original Nabbeun Namja) provoca sentimientos complejos con simplicidad. Es un disparo al estómago; es abuso y libertad, dolor y placer, un demonio arruinado y un ángel puro. Estrenada en Corea en el año 2001, esta película de Ki-Duk Kim llega lamentablemente tarde, después de la maravillosa Primavera, Verano, Otoño, Invierno... y Primavera (Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter... and Spring), estrenada en el 2003. Kim nos refresca otra vez con tres lecciones.

Primero, como decía Robert Bresson, "Si el ojo ha sido ganado en su totalidad, hay que darle nada o casi nada al oído". Y aquí viene Han-Ki (Jae-Hyeon Jo), el guardia de una humilde casa de prostitutas. Con una gran cicatriz en su garganta--tal vez un souvenir de batalla--él es un hombre sin palabras pero lleno de expresiones. Cada vez que él está calmo, nosotros nos relajamos. Cada vez que el explota, nosotros dejamos de respirar. Asombrado por la belleza de Sun-Hwa (Won Seo), la besa en frente de su novio, en un incómodo y rudo episodio donde todos son públicamente humillados. Después de eso, él encuentra una manera de atrapar a la inocente Sun-Hwa en las garras de la prostitución.

La segunda lección yace en la riqueza de las buenas audiciones sin la necesidad de contratar estrellas. No sólo las transformaciones de Jo y Seo son magistrales, sino también Duek-Mun Choi y Yun-Tae Kim actúan de manera simple y definida los roles secundarios que van ganando peso durante el desarrollo de la historia. Ambos toman ventaja de ese crecimiento hasta el final.

La tercera y última lección es acerca del cine en su pura expresión. Las cosas simples y los sentimientos sinceros siempre serán más poderosos que cualquiera de los efectos especiales. Han-Ki no busca venganza sino amor, con egoísmo y monstruosidad, teniendo a Sun-Hwa más cerca aunque la vea con otro hombre. El voyeurismo juega un rol principal como casi la única forma de amarla. Ella trata de escapar pero no puede (tal vez inconscientemente no quiere), y es forzada a crecer rápidamente y descubrir un nuevo mundo de sensaciones mixtas. Kim regresa acertadamente una vez más con repeticiones, brutalidad y obsesiones sexuales, siempre manteniendo viva la delgada línea entre deseo y angustia, con un contínuo ciclo de esperanza y perdición.

El cine de hoy se ocupa desesperadamente de la estética ofreciendo un experiencia virtualmente digitalizada, más cerca de la animación que de la realidad. Pero por suerte, aún en una historia oscura, violenta e injusta, podemos ver momentos mágicos cuando los sentimientos místicos y los pensamientos se encuentran en un espejo, una foto o un paisaje. Este chico malo asusta, pero al mismo tiempo muestra debilidad y una especie de ternura. Está prácticamente muerto pero aún no muere, al igual que los otros que lo rodean. Todos ellos están más cerca de... la vida.

Mar 27, 2005

Us

She...

She looks.

She looks at me.

She smiles, embraces me.

She is past, present, future.

She raises a glass of wine. Elixir.

She is fermented grapes in my head; mouth.

She talks about life, a crazy first meeting. Laughter.

She is part of the zoo, and her unique Mondo makes me joy.

She is the most expected kiss, forbidden sex, unconditional love.

She walks aside me; part of the city beauty, rediscovering places together.

She is fascinated with the argentine afternoon in the Central Park; I don't need more.

I always want more, and the afternoon becomes night, and my bed is empty again... why?

I forget about other things. I remember places, moments, smelling together.

I am the most unexpected kiss thief, free sex, unconditional love.

I am part of the zoo, and my new Mondo inspires her again.

I talk about destiny, unforgettable meeting. Laughter.

I fly between fermented grapes in the air; lips.

I raise a glass of wine. A Wish.

I am steak, caramel, Sunday.

I smile, hold her.

I feel her.

I miss.

I...

Mar 16, 2005

Better Alone

Today I have no date. I enter the theater to see The Wedding Date, with a chocolate that promises me love. This love comes cheap for me but not for Kat Ellis (Debra Messing), an anxious and girlish New Yorker. To avoid shame with her family and start revenge on her ex-fiancé, she hires escort Nick Mercer (Delmot Mulroney) to be her boyfriend in her sister's wedding.

In her first role after acting in Hollywood Ending and Along Came Polly, Messing can't shine, although sometimes Kat’s innocence and tenderness intake us smile. Mulroney again plays an accurate wedding man, as in My Best Friend's Wedding and About Schmidt, but he can't shine either. Even the supporting roles commonly overwhelming in romantic comedies can't be fully developed.

Clare Kilner again directs young women who refuse to believe in true love -until the unavoidable happy ending, like in How To Deal and Janice Beard. She cleverly handles a hook for teenage fantasies and identifications. Reversing the battle of sexes, Dana Fox turns the modest screenplay into something a little more attractive than without this idea.

Some wonderful English landscapes try to save the story of Kat and Nick suddenly falling in love. "How do you know so much about women?", asks the groom to Nick. "Because I'm a hooker", he replies, in one of the few funny moments of the film. A parental advisory should recommend discussion of the ending at home. In my case, I don't have anybody to discuss it, because today I have no date. But with this example of a wedding, better alone.

Mejor Solo

Hoy no tengo cita. Entro a la sala de cine a ver Amores, Enredos Y Una Boda (The Wedding Date), con un chocolate que me promete amor. Un amor que es barato para mí, pero no para Kat Ellis (Debra Messing), una chica ansiosa y aniñada de New York. Para evitar pasar verguenza con su familia y vengarse de su ex-novio, ella contrata al acompañante Nick Mercer (Delmot Mulroney) para hacerlo pasar por su novio en la boda de su hermana.

En su primer rol después de actuar en La Mirada De Los Otros (Hollywood Ending) y Mi Novia Polly (Along Came Polly), Messing no brilla, aunque algunas veces su inocencia y ternura nos arrancan una sonrisa. Mulroney actúa otra vez un preciso hombre de bodas, como hizo en La Boda De Mi Mejor Amigo (My Best Friend's Wedding) y en Las Confesiones Del Sr. Schmidt (About Schmidt), pero el tampoco puede brillar. Incluso los roles secundarios que generalmente sobresalen en comedias románticas no pueden ser totalmente desarrollados aquí.

Clare Kilner dirige una vez más a jóvenes mujeres que se resisten a creer en el verdadero amor--hasta el inevitable final feliz--como hizo en Enamórate (How To Deal) y Janice Beard. Inteligentemente ella maneja el gancho para las fantasías adolescentes y sus identificaciones con los personajes. Revirtiendo la batalla de los sexos, Dana Fox convierte un modesto guión en algo un poco más atractivo de lo que hubiese sido sin esta idea.

Algunos maravillosos paisajes intentan salvar la historia de Kat y Nick enamorándose repentinamente. "¿Cómo sabes tanto de mujeres?", le pregunta el novio a Nick. "Porque soy un acompañante", confiesa Nick, en uno de los pocos momentos graciosos de la película. Una advertencia a los padres debería recomendar discusión del final al llegar a sus casas. En mi caso, yo no tengo a nadie con quién discutirlo, porque hoy no tengo cita. Pero con estos ejemplos de bodas... mejor solo.

Mar 14, 2005

Painting Her Painting

I look at you, you look at me. Smile, big smile. Little almond eyes, big cherry mouth. People, music, heat, smoke, them, us. I want you, since the beginning... of the trip. I was searching in the streets. I was searching in the shops. I was searching behind garbage cans. I was looking for you high, very high in the skyscrapers. I was looking for you in that woman sleeping in the subway, in this girl talking with her friend. I was... desiring, imaging, dreaming. SHOT! I look at you, you look at me. SHOT! Smile, big smile. SHOT! Almond and cherry splattered in a painting... SHOT.

I want her belly in my hand. Her ear in my tongue. Provoking natural. Which other thing could she be? Nothing else than a painting. She is color. She is bright. She is surrealism. She is passion. She is wall. She is gallery. She is leaning on the couch. SHOT! Red paint from her chest. SHOT! Red paint from my leg. SHOT! I walk through the people with difficulty, and I lean on the couch with her... SHOT.

We talk deeply in an empty place full of people, music, heat, smoke. We fill each other. We want more. We promise. We can't say good bye. We say it. SHOT! My mind flying faster than hers. SHOT! Killing her and saving me on September 23rd. SHOT! Bullets in the sky, flashes in the air, sixteen millimeters in the pressure plate. I know that I will loose her, but I shoot anyway...

... SHOT.