emmanuel. ucla. rcc. movies. méxico.

Reblog if you miss the old days where you were MARRIED by 12 and DEAD by 35

(via cronenbergundian)


"The overwhelming bulk of the cosmos is deathly quiet. But here and there - on worlds where matter is thick and conditions are right - noises are commonplace. And in some cases, these noisy worlds may ring with the sounds of life - the bleats and bellows of creatures we have never seen, but may someday discover."
-Seth Shostak

(via cuauhxicalli)

Let’s start with the look of Songs from the Second Floor—it’s unusually visual, very rich and detailed.

I felt that film-making generally didn’t reach the level you could find in painting or literature or music. It was for one-time use only, and more and more, the movies were losing their visual power—they were concentrating on the plot only. Especially compared to the 1950s, when I was a student. It was that period when the so-called serious art movie came out, all over the world: we had the East European waves, Kurosawa, Bergman, English realism. That’s why I started wanting to be a film director myself. It wasn’t only the plot that was interesting; it was the touch, the feeling, something visually rich.

The way you use long, single-shot scenes without cuts—and don’t move the camera within them—is particularly unusual these days.

Normally when you see a film with many cuts, it’s to avoid problems, because of lack of money, patience, talent. If you don’t move the camera and don’t cut, you have to enrich the picture in deep focus—that’s what you have. I think a good theoretical writer on film is Andre Bazin—he preferred deep focus. I do too. When you look at the history of paintings, they’re in deep focus all the time, and that makes you very curious, and you become an active spectator.

Roy Andersson on the style of Songs from the Second Floor

(via cristalconnors)

Raging Sun, Raging Sky begins with a woman—Tatei, identified as ‘El Corazón del cielo’, who Hernández reveals as the spirit of human passion. She is introduced walking through Mexico City’s urban wilderness, alive to the elements, telepathically listening-in on the personal lives of the citizens going about their daily routines. The camera (guided by cinematographer Alejandro Cantú) moves with Tatei, noticing desire everywhere in different genders, classes, occupations and anxieties. This mesmerizing introduction is key to Hernández’s approach; the emphasis on gay life is expansive and pansexual. His art depicts the universal essence of yearning.”

"Beyond the barrier-busting conceits of mainstream hits like Milk, Brokeback Mountain, Philadelphia, Kiss of the Spider Woman and Sunday, Bloody Sunday—films that spend too much effort on arguing the legitimacy of same-sex affection—Hernández presumes his characters’ validity and film culture’s sympathy. Inspired by Cocteau and Fassbinder, he asserts passion as unselfconsciously as cinema’s greatest ambulatory romantics—the likes of von Sternberg, Borzage and Mizoguchi as well as Ophuls.”

"Hernández trains his camera-eye on the byways of carnal behavior—alleys, train tracks, porn cinemas, discos, bath houses and sex clubs. He brings awestruck Antonioni with him, Sternberg for the glamour of sexual attraction, Resnais for the mind-bending sense of passing time, and Ophuls for the vertiginous yet sobering thrall. Cinema has rarely, if ever, given gay experience this high level of witness and contemplation. Hernández evokes his great forebears as part of the modern, intelligent love experience."

Armond White on Julián Hernández’s Raging Sun, Raging Sky.

(via cine-mexicano)