nu domle ... marx se referea nu la lumina judecãþii de apoi, ci la întunericul de pe urmã.

ma refeream la marx al nostru, domn'le.

ºi eu la fel

bai, eu vreau doar sa spun asa: daca din ferocitatea si schelalaiala aia continue care au fost ultimii 50 de ani (din care eu am prins cam 19) se poate desprinde, si asta in mod natural, veridic, adica fara fortaj la tema, atata nostalgie si intelegere, atata lumina calma cata am vazut eu in film, atunci cel/cei care a/au distilat povestea merita tot creditul meu pentru felul cum au ajuns la o astfel de substanta.

si probabil sunt subiectiv, dar am sa fiu subiectiv pana la capat. am zis.

[quote="Ambra Blu"] omu' a vazut bine:e un film slab ptr.ca e artificial la nivel de limbaj,se vorbeste fals si solemn. am zis "slab" ?puteam sa nimeresc si tasta de alaturi si sa spun "slav",ca nu greseam,la cate ingenuitati de-alea chinuite-de film est-european de prin anii '50-'60-sunt aici.nu stiu,dar fata de primul lui scurt("17 minute",un filmuletz dens si aspru) e de nerecunoscut :?

p.s:sunt si eu subiectiv-enervat,ptr.ca a trebuit sa-l vad asa cum m-am dezobisnuit,adica fara cutia de viteze la indemana+gugal+wikipedia+imdb+mess...dar cred ca as fi avut alta reactie la "hartia va fi albastra"(a aluat ieri premiul anatoliei,intr-o competitie puternica,cum de n-a scris nimeni de el?).asta mi-a adus aminte mai mult de un film vechi all lui kusturica decat de ce-a fost inainte de '89.

hello, '17 minute intirziere' (p care-l consider cel mai bun film al lui cm - vezi mai sus!) NU este primul film al lui cm...

in rest, cu totul d acord: si mie mi s-a parut batrinicios (k formula). iar kestia cu 'lumina calma' blabla (vezi airlight) - whatever, d gustibus :sleep: nu stiu dk ferocitatea poate fi solubila in apa d trandariri. iar a spune k s-a trait si 'calm', 'luminos' etc in comunism e k si cum ai spune k la auschwitz s cinta si bach...

Hai sa fim seriosi: cat de anticomunist esti la varsta pantalonilor scurti? Auzisem ca nu trebuie sa spui multe din casa pe la toate colturile si ca e bine sa nu-ti bati joc de hrana, ca se gaseste din greu. In rest... imi amintesc de colegii de scoala si de joaca, de duminicile in care urmaream Gala desenului animat, Cascadorii rasului si Papusile Muppets, Razboiul Stelelor, colectia de Pif-uri si Rahane si suprizele cu Tipi Tip.

dupa cum spuneam, depinde foarte mult de familie si de atitudinea ei, pt ca un copil isi poate insusi foarte usor o atitudine a parintilor.

banguletz, stop making sense, u r being boring! astea sint asha neshte truisme :lol:

in alta ordine d idei, ieri am aflat o kestie neverosimila: s-a primit un tel la dilema, din partea firmei la strada, cum k cm vrea sa dea un 'drept la replik' la cronik lui gorzo!! :w00t: i mean, hel-LO, how low can u go!?!

de fapt 'how low can you e-go', dar la asta fiecare isi stie, rusinat, raspunsul propriu, n'est pas dl. Seban ? :)

cine stie, poate o da si el in truisme... :hmm: dar SERIOS, care-i problema individului asta ? e suparat ca nu toata lumea e cazuta in fund, cu gura cascata de uluire la filmul sau ? o sa asistam la un duel dilematic in traditia lui 'kill bill', numai ca intre gorzo si mitulescu ? :lol:

look at the bright side of things, anyway: it's gonna be fun ! :w00t:

nu, dle leescu.
n-am nicio probl cu corpu meu, dk dspr asta este vba. poate dvs cu al dvs.
iar faptul k am fost expus 2 zile la rind p prima pagina, kiar si a unui ziar d scandal, consider k m-a valorizat in a twisted, funny sort of way...
p moment, da, a fost shocant, ma gindeam la consecinte etc, plus k am fost megafurios k asha cva s-a putut intimpla - tocmai mie, care sunt a control freak! -, dar acu, privind in retrospect, mi s pare cool. iar 'consecintele' au fost tandre, hehe (adik am cunoscut pers. care au vrut sa ma cunoasca precisely bec. of that!)...

deci nu ma consider 'umilit', ci dimpotriva: am beneficiat d public exposure p gratis, iar exhibitionismu meu a fost megasatisfacut ;)

dar c leg. avea asta cu mitulescu?!
it escapes me...

pt notorious

(k scriam concomitent!)

nu, sunt convins k gorzo n-o sa s bage la niciun 'duel' cu cm, in primu rind pt k nu sint d ac. calibru (si aici NU ma refer la kg!!)...
da, da, cred k probl lui cm e k filmu nu a fost primit cu atitea surle & trimbitze p cit s astepta... iar eu i-am spus asta ink d la cj: t superi k am zis k e 'doar' un film bun?? well, wait & see: altii n-or sa zik nici macar atit... :lol:

am vb kiar ieri cu un francez, casatorit cu o romank, f cunoscator al culturii rom etc (a fost cel mai bun director al inst. fr), pasionat d cinema, incl cel rom, etc etc, si mi-a zis: oui, c'est moyen, il a des longueurs en plus...
sa mai traduc?

premiere (ed fr):
"se perd en saynetes tragi-comiques et ne parvient que fugacement a surprendre et emouvoir."
apropos de comment j'ai fete la fin du monde, o stea din 4

:lol: :lol: :lol:

Dle Serban, ati innebunit ? scuzati-mi intrebarea ..

vorbeam despre felul in care, in tot acest forum, n-a fost critica sa va fi fost adresata la care sa nu solicitati dreptul la replica, apoi dreptul la replica replicii, apoi dreptul.. etc. Dreptul la avea ultimul, inatacabilul, indestructibilul Cuvant.

Exactly the case pointed above de dvs, cu telefonul, cu dreptul la replica etc..

Vorbeam de ego si de nimic altceva. Imi pare rau daca ati inteles gresit si imi pare rau daca v-am produs, asa cum se pare, vreo frustrare.

later edit:
recitind postul meu, imi dau seama ca, ortografiat e-go, cuvantul ar fi putut genera, absolut virtual si lateral, intelesul pe care l-ati asumat.

O mie de scuze, ca sa va citez - eu insa am facut-o neintentionat.

O zi cu ceaiuri si umbrele.

mda
cam penibil (din partea mea, ma grabesc sa adaug!)
rog adm. sa stearga timpenia mea d mai sus; a fost clar un malentendu, credeam k dl airlight face referire la prezenta mea gratioasa intr-un ziar deloc gratios... :lol:

dar - venind acum la kestiune - sa stiti, domnu airlight, k nu e DELOC, da DELOC, ac. lucru! aici e vba d o regula nescrisa - i.e. NU s dau 'drepturi la replik' pt o cronik!, va dati seama ce-ar fi dk - prin absurd - s-ar da!?! :w00t:

altfel, sigur k vreau sa am ult. cuvint in anumite kestiuni - cine nu are?!
si asta-mi vine din faptul k eu cred k i'm usually right... ;)

recomand, in ac. pct al discutiei, aceasta splendida recenzie care m-a facut sa ma indragostesc d un domn, robert hughes p numele lui, d care - spre rushinea mea - nu auzisem... acum, k am auzit, nu pot spune decit: robert hughes, c'est moi! 8)

iata recenzia:

A cultural critic makes no apologies for being an elitist.

By Jonathan Yardley
Sunday, September 24, 2006; BW02

THINGS I DIDN'T KNOW

A Memoir

By Robert Hughes

Knopf. 395 pp. $27.95

Robert Hughes has been many things in his more than six and a half decades -- art critic, biographer, historian, polemicist, television commentator -- and he has done all of them exceedingly well. As art critic for Time magazine from 1970 to 2001 (and a continuing contributor), he raised the standards of magazine criticism to new heights and demonstrated conclusively that it is possible to write serious criticism in a mass-market publication. His survey of modern art, The Shock of the New (1981), was and remains the definitive book on the subject, though Hughes's vigorous opinions do not always sit well with certain factions in the exquisitely vicious art world. The Fatal Shore (1987), his history of the founding of Australia , his native country, is a masterpiece of the popular historian's art. His portrait of a great Spanish city, Barcelona (1992), and his biographical study, Goya (2003), are superb examples of their respective genres.

Now Hughes has turned his hand to autobiography, with predictably and gratifyingly rewarding results. His has been a writer's life, and, like most such lives, it has been primarily a life of the mind. Such drama as he has experienced -- two unhappy marriages before a lucky third one, the suicide of his 33-year-old son, a terrible auto accident that brought him within a breath of death -- certainly has been painful, but except for the accident, he devotes relatively little space to these matters in this memoir, preferring reticence over display where private business is concerned, a merciful choice in this age of self-servingly confessional memoirs that attempt to cash in on real or fancied business of the most intimate nature.

The story Hughes prefers to tell, as his title suggests, is the story of his education -- not so much of his formal education, though he does have interesting things to say about the Jesuits who taught him at an Australian boarding school, as about what he learned out in the world. As he says of a book on which he worked when he was young, a biography of Leonardo da Vinci that he never completed: "I realized that my main impulse for writing a book was to force myself to find out about things I didn't know. It has always been like that; the reason for this memoir is the same, to excavate and bring into the light things I had forgotten or repressed, along with the stuff that remained at the front of my awareness. Otherwise, why do it at all?"

Hughes's rise to the eminence he now enjoys did not come easily and began in somewhat unlikely circumstances. His family lived in Sydney and was rather prosperous, but the familial environment was not conducive to the artistic interests that eventually became his life's preoccupation. Born in 1938, he was by a dozen years the youngest of his parents' four children. He never really knew his father, who died when he was 12 but whose influence on him nonetheless was great: "This righteous and inflexible man, a brave warrior but not a professional soldier, a war hero who shot down eleven German planes in the First World War, a fiercely orthodox Catholic, and an intense patriot, determined the direction and conditions of my life. It was at least partly in reaction against him, and what he stood for, that I became an expatriate, a political skeptic, an atheist, a liberal, a voluptuary, and, in most ways, a disappointment to the ethos he lived by. And, perhaps no more creditable than these, a writer about art."

The young Hughes's "introduction to the visual arts" began with cartoons in Punch, the British humor magazine, and a series of illustrated children's books, but it wasn't until he was 15 that a wise teacher got him thinking about the nature of art, and it wasn't until more than a decade later that the full dimensions of his calling were revealed to him. He was in Italy , contemplating "a quite staggeringly complicated and ambitious [14th-century] painting" known as the Maest�*, by Duccio di Buoninsegna:

"Art, I now realized, was the symbolic discourse that truly reached into me -- though the art I had seen and come to know in Australia had only done this intermittently and weakly. It wasn't a question of confusing art with religion, or trying to make a religion out of art. As some people are tone-deaf, I was religion-deaf, and in fact I would have thought it a misuse, even a debasement, of a work of art to turn it into a mere ancillary, a signpost to some imagined, hoped-for, but illusory experience of God. But I was beginning, at last, to derive from art, from architecture, and even from the beauty of organized landscape a sense of transcendence that organized religion had offered me -- but that I had never received."

Earlier, from the Jesuits, Hughes had learned that "no matter what the demands of 'self-_expression' may be, nothing is anything without fully articulate, conscious form." This conviction, coupled with his passionate belief in the transcendent possibilities of art, permitted Hughes to evolve over the years into modern art's most demanding critic. Deeply sympathetic to "the hostile, nervy freedom from parental and religious authority embodied by Surrealism," he nevertheless insisted that art had to be more than "new" to be good, and over the years he came to be a fierce opponent of the faddism to which the art world is so susceptible. He was strongly influenced by the writing of Kenneth Clark, Cyril Connolly and, especially, George Orwell, whose "direct use of the English language, in exposition and in argument," and whose willingness to follow his own nose he emulated to obvious and happy effect.

He started writing about art in Australia in the late 1950s for the Observer, "a fortnightly journal of political and cultural opinion modeled on the English Spectator ," and that is when his education really began. By fortunate coincidence, it was a moment when Australian art, long under the thumb of a conservative Old Guard, began to take tentative steps toward independence and originality, but not much of it was very good, and Hughes had begun to sense "a deep dysfunction in my Australian nature. I didn't feel altogether at home either in the bush or on the beach." He became friends with the distinguished writer Alan Moorehead, best known as the author of The White Nile and The Blue Nile , "my beau ideal of a popular historian," and in time, no doubt, his model for the writing of The Fatal Shore . Moorehead told him in 1962 that "I would have to leave Australia , just as he had done, if my work was ever to go anywhere." Moorehead said: "If you stay here another ten years, Australia will still be a very interesting place. But you will have become a bore, a village explainer."

So with little to his credit except letters of introduction from Moorehead and a bit of money, Hughes headed for the United States and then for London, where "I knew nobody and I felt lost -- a provincial Australian in a place that still, in 1964, tended to look down on Australians." He began to educate himself at the city's great museums, though, and then took up Moorehead's offer to use his house at Porto Ercole, in Italy . His months in that country left him "more at ease in the world and filled with delight at what its human and inanimate contents could mean, say, and create," and when he returned to London in the mid-1960s, he was far better equipped to fit in and find work.

He also arrived in London just as the 1960s were turning into the Sixties. He seems to have done his share of dope and swinging, and he married a woman who was the embodiment of Sixties excess, but he never fell for the "collective self-importance" of the " London underground" with its "adoration of the unbridled truth of the self." He "never for a moment believed the promises of Revolution Now that were floating about -- all that messianic drivel about changing the world by dropping out of it," and he "sensed then, and know with a fair degree of certainty now, that it is an illusion to suppose that sexual promiscuity helps create personal freedom. There is a huge difference between the condition of freedom and that of accepting no responsibilities to anyone."

Most important for the career that was to follow, he rejected "the idea that there was something inherently repressive about old art, as though the past were a dead weight that new art, young art, had to shake off." He learned that "the past is pervasive; it seeps into everything; it is the very air that artists and their public breathe," and he lost for good "a belief in the potency of the avant-garde." He writes: "I have never regained it, and today, looking at the ever-more-feeble efforts on the part of the art world to designate its latest products as 'cutting-edge,' 'edgy,' 'radical,' etcetera, I am not in the least sorry to have lost it. Some new works of art have value of some kind or another. Others, the majority, have little or none. But newness as such, in art, is never a value."

So in 1969, when Time invited him to try out for the position of art critic, he was ready. It was, as he says, still a more or less serious magazine then and it paid far more attention to books and the arts than it does now. Though Hughes is more generous to its founder, Henry Luce, than I would be, he is right to credit its managing editor at the time, Henry Grunwald, with keeping its "cultural priorities" straight. The newsmagazines mattered then in ways they no longer do, and in his three decades at Time, Hughes had much to do with the reputation it enjoyed.

Hughes is, by his own rather defiant declaration, "completely an elitist, in the cultural but emphatically not the social sense." He is, "after all, a cultural critic, and my main job is to distinguish the good from the second-rate, pretentious, sentimental, and boring stuff that saturates culture today." He quite properly refuses to apologize for this: "I am no democrat in the field of the arts, the only area -- other than sports -- in which human inequality can be displayed and celebrated without doing social harm." How right he is, and how vigorously he argues his case -- which is to say the case for informed judgment independent of fashion -- in this splendid book. ·

Jonathan Yardley's e-mail address is [email protected].



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interesant personaj...

nu stiu ce va spune horoscopul astazi, domnule Serban, dar pana deseara trebuie sa va prostdispunem sau sa va prostdispuneti! :P

referitor la sublinierea mea din spusa dumneavoastra.. problema o pun astfel:

c'est vous, sans doute, mais ou est votre oeuvre ecrite?

altfel... elitismul pe ce se bazeaza?

offf... tocmai cind mi-a aparut prima carte, tocmai acum, imi pui aceasta intrebare, domnule john locke??
sincer, as fi preferat sa nu - cum spune & o raspune personajul meu preferat, bartleby the scrivener... adik, mi s-ar fi parut mult mai arogant (si deci, mai elitist) sa emiti toate parerile p care le emit si eu fara a avea nicio carte tiparita... asha, am intrat in rindul (gros) al lumii :((

in rest, salutari dlui nadashan.
tot asha va chaperoneaza? ;)

ce are-a face elitismul cu aroganta!???
sau in grupul dumneavoastra elitismul si-a pierdut nobletea in mandrie si dispret (fata de ceilalti, of course). si asta se transmite!

poate ca am sa va citesc... Persona. insa intre opera scrisa si carte publicata nu este posibila asezarea semnului logico-matematic de echivalenta. o stiti prea bine, cred! si oricum, a fi in elita nu tine doar de a avea o opera scrisa, n'est pas?

cat priveste chaperonismul, vous vous trompez, monsieur ;)
- e o questiune de credinta in toate, nu una de injectie!

1. pt mine, elitismul este indisociabil d mindrie & dispret: este mindria d a fi altfel si dispretul p care nu poti decit sa-l ai pt turma...
2. da, intre carte publicata & opera scrisa este cale lunga. dar nu ma intereseaza sa o am p ultima, cum nu m-a interesat sa o am - pina acum, cind am cedat unor insistente... - p prima.
3. nu, va inselati: in volumul dspr care e vba nu sint incluse eseurile cinematografice; acelea vor aparea in volumul d la polirom - peste aprox. 1 luna...
4. ah, enfin: 'pt a fi in elita nu e nevoie sa ai opera scrisa' - iata fraza p care o asteptam! ma temeam sa nu fiti adeptul aceleiasi conceptii meskin- contabile & gregar-conservatoare dspr c inseamna 'om d cultura'... nu sinteti, si va felicit!

si cu asta, basta - dja am spus prea mult...
dk as putea - in perioada asta - sa dispar, sa ma ascund intr-o scorbura d sequoia, fara a fi nevoit sa fiu martorul, ba kiar actorul lansarilor :((
ink regret k am acceptat!
dar ma felicit, macar, k am renuntat la emisiunea d p cultural! :P