mercredi, mai 06, 2009
Un discours brillant, pertinent, valeureux et engagé où la belle dresse son état du cinéma en forme de lettre à son fils avec tellement de sagacité qu'on en a des frissons.
"You asked me the other day, just as you were dropping off, what people’s dreams were like before the cinema was invented"
(...) "I think the last film in which I experienced this kind of ecstatic removal was at a screening in Cannes of the Thai film Tropical Malady (Sud pralad), in my opinion, a masterpiece, mysterious and shapeshiftingly magical. A love story that actually carries the power to tip one into love, a nightmare of nature that kicks a primal punch, that takes us into the wilderness of human nature and leaves us there. I actually remember rubbing my eyes with my fists in a comedy gesture during the screening, convinced, for one split second, that I fallen asleep, that only my unconscious could have come up with such a texture of sensation."
(...) "Can I be alone in my longing for inarticulacy, for a cinema that refuses to join all the dots? For an arrhythmia in gesture, for a dissonance in shape? For the context of cinematic frame, a frame that in the end only cinema can provide, for the full view, the long shot, the space between, the gaps, the pause, the lull, the grace of living."
(...) "The thing is for me filmmaking, too, has always been an act of faith. Not only in the sense in which one needs a certain amount of conviction to get the films made in the first place, but in the more amorphous sense in which one takes one’s faith to the cinema as to the confessional: the last resort of the determined inarticulate, the unmediated, the intravenous experience of something existential, transmuted through the dark, through the flickering of the constant image through the projector onto the screen. The sharing of private fantasy, the very issue of the unconscious made in light. Faith way beyond politics, way beyond religion, way beyond time."
Voeu pieux: si tous les acteurs savaient parler de cinéma comme ça, si tous les journalistes savaient les faire accoucher, on lirait quand même moins de choses plates.
Voeu pieux numéro 2: si quelqu'un avait la gentillesse de faire parvenir jusqu'à un de nos écrans le Julia d'Erick Zonca (La vie rêvée des anges) où la grande se révèle en alcoolique cassavetienne, on lui donnerait volontiers 2 gros morceaux de robots. Merci d'avance
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