Vittorio Storaro goes to Hollywood

Un film come Il conformista ha toccato profondamente Coppola, che ha sempre riconosciuto di essersene servito quasi come di un modello, di un oracolo addirittura, tanto che lo proiettava ai suoi collaboratori mentre girava Il Padrino. La prima volta che mi chiese di lavorare con lui fu per Il Padrino n. 2, ma rifiutai per una serie di motivi ma soprattutto per l’amicizia che mi lega a Gordon Willis, una delle pochissime persone che dopo aver visto Il Conformista mi mandò un telegramma di complimenti alla Technicolor e che ho sempre trovato straordinario, sicuramente una delle più grandi personalità figurative in America e forse nel mondo. Insomma mi sembrava più giusto che proseguissero insieme il discorso iniziato col primo Padrino. Rividi Coppola brevemente a Parigi una volta che venne a salutare Bernardo sul set di Ultimo Tango, poi a Roma; loro ultimavano Il Padrino n. 2, e noi giravamo nel teatro accanto Le orme, di Luigi Bazzoni. Dopo questi due brevi incontri parlai con Fed Ross, uno dei suoi co-produttori che venne a Roma per propormi Apocalypse Now. Rifiutai di nuovo per lo stesso motivo; intromettendomi tra Coppola e Willis avrei rotto uno di quei “ matrimoni “ artistici dagli eccellenti risultati che caratterizzano certi momenti della storia dello spettacolo. Fu Coppola ad illustrarmi personalmente il tipo particolare di visione di cui aveva bisogno per il suo film, che in effetti non conveniva alle caratteristiche del lavoro di Gordon Willis, tendenzialmente orientato verso un tipo di illuminazione da teatro di posa. Accettai solo dopo averne parlato con Willis stesso, sapendo che comunque lui non l’avrebbe fatto.

Ho avuto carta bianca per tutto ciò che era di mia competenza. Tutta la parte figurativo-fotografica di Apocalypse Now è prettamente italiana. Lavorando con i miei collaboratori mi trovavo nella posizione di responsabile assoluto della resa fotografica del film.

Vittorio Storaro

tratto dalla rivista Cinema e Cinema

The absence of history

Apocalypse Now The absence of history
by Michael Klein
from Jump Cut, no. 23, Oct. 1980, p. 20
copyright Jump Cut: A Review of Contemporary Media, 1980, 2005

"It was my thought that if an U.S. audience could look at … what Vietnam was really like then they could put it behind them."
— Coppola

In the late 1960s Marlon Brando starred in a film ostensibly about colonialism in the Caribbean in the nineteenth century but whose real subject was the U.S. war in Vietnam. That film, BURN, was produced outside this country and because of political pressure received little attention at the time. (When I first saw and reviewed BURN, it was being distributed as a second feature in rural California drive-ins.)
APOCALYPSE NOW, also starring Marlon Brando, but directed by Francis Ford Coppola and completed in the late 1970s, is explicitly about the U.S. involvement in Vietnam. Unlike BURN, it has been distributed with a good deal of publicity and ballyhoo. But whereas BURN offered a clear perspective about the causes of war and colonial domination of the third world, APOCALYPSE NOW is infused with an inadequate and incoherent vision.
While BURN is one of the few commercial films distributed in the U.S. during the Vietnam war to reflect the radical analyses that emerged in that period, APOCALYPSE NOW is a film of the late 1970s that looks back on the 60s with cynicism and despair.
APOCALYPSE NOW, very loosely based upon Joseph Conrad's novel The Heart of Darkness, presents the story of a Captain Willard who journeys upstream from Vietnam to Cambodia in 1968 to assassinate a Colonel Kurtz (Brando), who has gone insane while carrying out counter-insurgency operations against the NLF.
Through much of the film we journey through the horrors of the war with Willard, witnessing scenes of genocide — napalm, destruction of villages by air strikes, slaughter of civilians. Always, however, it is shown from the imperialist point of view, the perspective of the helicopter machine-gunner letting loose at the natives. There are scenes of "black humor," such as a strutting, cowboy-hatted head of the air cavalry incinerating a peasant village so that he and his men can go surfing. And most all the U.S. soldiers are portrayed as acid-heads and rock freaks. The many soldiers that fought against the war and fragged their officers and covertly helped the NLF don't appear in Coppola's version of Vietnam. Coppola defines the war not as a horror in humanist terms but as a grotesque absurdity. The film does not aim to create sympathy for the war's victims but, perversely, to render the war as a merely fantastic, absurd, mind-blowing spectacle.
When we arrive at Kurtz's lair, an explanation of a sort is offered for the war and the nightmare world we see in the film. Kurtz reads a passage from T.S. Eliot's poem, "The Hollow Men" and dies in high expressionist style with the words "the horror" on his lips. The images of the film extend this perspective, but often in a manner so covert that any audience perception of this interpretation remains privileged and elitist. For example, the blades of the helicopter warships that attack peasant villages to the music of Wagner's "The Ride of the Valkyries" merge into the helicopter blades that spin in the background of a decadent striptease by gun-totin' female entertainers at a doomed U.S. base. These blades merge into the spears with which Kurtz's mercenaries kill a soldier, and finally into a knife blade with which Willard dispatches Kurtz. Parallel to primitive barbarism is technological barbarism, the culture of decadent fascism.
APOCALYPSE NOW offers no deeper insight into the causes of the war in Vietnam. In the final moments of the improvised last section of the film, Willard, having killed Kurtz, begins to physically resemble him. This time the message is clear, however crude and distorted: we are, all of us, decadent and doomed by nature. There are no saved in Coppola's vision of the apocalypse: no liberation fighters, no Vietnam vets against the war. But then there are no aggressors or imperialists either, only guilty liberals and assorted grotesques.
Perhaps the effect is not quite as insidious as that of THE DEER HUNTER where a stylish new U.S. superhero emerges from the war seeking continuity in chauvinist abstractions. In APOCALYPSE NOW neither Willard nor Kurtz are role models for a new generation. At best Willard is a burnt-out fragment from the 60s mosaic. We find no positive figures that we identify with because of their humanity — unlike in the better post-WWI films (e.g., ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT, THE BIG PARADE) or some made at the end of WWII (e.g., PRIDE OF THE MARINES).
In APOCALYPSE NOW we are presented with a cynical spectacle — an ersatz expression of counter-culture disillusion that is, in the final sense, sanctioned by aesthetic codes of formal excellence (the extravagance of Coppola's production, the self-conscious "beauty" of the images) and a middlebrow appeal to high culture norms (the strained allusions to Conrad and Eliot). Coppola succeeds in making a film that attempts to "put Vietnam behind us" or, to put it another way, that embezzles the heritage of a whole generation's historical experience while making a few deceptive signs in the direction of cultural tradition. History is displaced by the spectacle, by the ideology and rhetoric of Coppola's mise-en-scene. That is the real horror, not Col. Kurtz's hollow cry. The reality of life in Vietnam and in the U.S. as it was affected by the war is significantly absent from the frame. Missing are not only the struggle of the Vietnamese people for independence from U.S. domination but the anguished struggle of the U.S. people, inside and outside of the army, against the war, which in many cases involved analyses or at least recognition of the imperialist dynamics of that conflict.
What a contrast to Pontecorvo's film BURN, where an historical analysis of imperialist expansion is clearly presented as an integral part of the narrative. But in BURN, instead of mumbling Eliotic mystifications in the dark shadows of an exotic set, Marlon Brando as Sir William Walker, a somewhat tragic realpolitik colonialist agent in the Third World, explains his actions with an inverted Marxist logic. Like Conrad's Kurtz, Walker believes his actions will further progress and "civilization." He also has a clear vision of the class polities involved and of the Third World's revolutionary potential. First, Walker forges a revolutionary alliance between the national bourgeoisie and the slaves of the island nation of Quemada to displace Portugal's dominance, so that England can gain influence there under the banners of "free trade" and "democratic freedom." Later, as the British sugar companies exert more and more control, Quemada's national bourgeoisie become compradors and the liberated slaves become wage slaves. The former slaves — now workers and peasants — are driven to revolution and take to the hills. British troops take over open control of Quemada and wage a genocidal war against the rebellious population. The war is a necessity, Walker maintains, to ensure that the area will be free for exploitation and development for centuries. When BURN was released in the late 60s, the parallels with Vietnam and southeast Asia were clear.
Perhaps the most important difference between BURN and APOCALYPSE NOW, related to the dialectical sense of history that permeates and structures BURN, is that APOCALYPSE NOW presents no recognizable potential counterforce to the forces of darkness — only equally demonic shadows in the jungle. BURN, however, develops the figure of Jose Delores, the leader of the sugar cane workers and peasants, to contrast with Brando's Sir William Walker. Jose Delores' statement that freedom is not something that colonizers grant but something that the people must fight for becomes the dominant theme of the film. BURN lets us arrive at both an understanding of the process of history and a sympathy with people seeking liberation. This is unlike APOCALYPSE NOW, which exorcises history and offers a message of cynicism and despair.

L'originale è qui:
http://www.ejumpcut.org/archive/onlinessays/JC23folder/KleinApocNow.html

Il dio Kurtz

Willard:  “ Sulle prime pensai che mi avessero dato la pratica sbagliata. Non potevo credere che volessero la                

                 morte di quest’uomo “.

                “ Kurtz aveva lasciato la barca, aveva tagliato i ponti con tutti i programmi del cazzo “.

Kurtz:      “ Mi aspettavo qualcuno come lei. Lei cosa si aspettava. Lei è un assassino “.

Willard:   “ Sono un soldato “.

Kurtz:       “ Né l’uno né l’altro. Lei è un garzone di bottega che è stato mandato dal droghiere a incassare i      

                  sospesi “.

  Forse Marlon Brando non si rese conto che in quelle cinque opere che sono il centro della sua vita d’artista il vero datore di lavoro è stata la Signora Morte; le va incontro in ogni caso: nelle Antille, nella New York del gangsterismo, nella Parigi dei primi anni settanta del secolo scorso, nel West degli allevatori di cavallo, nel Vietnam. Emissario dell’impero britannico, capo bastone della mafia, amante perduto,  cacciatore di ladri di cavalli, emissario dell’impero americano.

  Su Apocalypse Now non c’è niente di nuovo da dire visto che è una di quelle opere sezionate fin dal suo apparire. Era già accaduto al romanzo Cuore di tenebra di Joseph Conrad che Milius e Coppola hanno sovrapposto all’infame guerra di John F. Kennedy e Lindon B. Johnson.

  Marlon Brando-Kurtz è la causa verso  cui tutti muovono, è la tappa finale della risalita lungo il ventre del serpente ( fiume o pellicola )di Willard. Willard voleva una missione e l’ha avuta: porre fine a Kurtz, il cancro nella cancrenosa lotta tra selvaggio e multinazionali produttrici di armi da guerra.

  Considerato dio/re/sacerdote dalla nazione da lui creata vive in mezzo a riti ancestrali e magie pagane fuori dal tempo, ma il tempo ha riacchiappato Kurtz che deve morire per far posto ad un altro re, sacrificato da quest’ultimo, novello sacerdote.

   Brando pensa e effigia la sua maschera,un cranio rasato che ricorda un altro dittatore a noi vicino; la figura statuaria orientale  con cui si presenta è quella del dio ( con la voce di Sergio Fantoni nella prima edizione del film ) che soppesa e giudica Martin Sheen, il garzone di droghiere giunto a riscuotere i sospesi.

  Questa volta, la volta finale, Brando è la presenza inscindibile da tutto il contesto: mente nei precedenti film muoveva il tutto, qui tutto è già stato mosso prima che parta la proiezione, resta solo il suo sacrificio.

Superman Marlon

Tra Missouri Breaks e Apocalypse Now apparve in Superman e per una manciata di secondi, si dice " cameo ",  si portò in tasca miliardi e miliardi di dollari, compresa l'invidia dei suoi colleghi più pagati dell'epoca, tra cui Eastwood, che curarono con scatoloni di Maalox. Impersonava Jor-El padre, del supeeroe. 

How were Brando and Nicholson together?

Finally, I wanted to talk about The Missouri Breaks. That's one of my favourite westerns, it's very adult, poetic and surprising. Watching it again, it's astonishing how grown-up the dialogue-intercourse between Jack Nicholson and the woman is. Why do you think that that film has a reputation as being a failure in some ways?

Oh, I think that everybody was expecting, finally, a shoot-out on a western street between Brando and Nicholson, and that was never, never our intention. The odd scenes in that film just dismayed the critics on the first viewing. You know, Brando having a love scene with a horse and a mule; or Brando in the bathtub and Nicholson wanting to kill him, except that he looks like a big fat baby. Those were attempts at trying to disarm expectations. It's a rather savage film, actually, in certain aspects, but it's savage around ignominy. Brando shoots the people in relatively ignominious positions: a man going to the toilet in the outhouse is blown out of the outhouse; another man making love to a woman is shot; they're hounded by him and teased by him. He drops a live grasshopper into Randy Quaid's mouth, you know? It's all designed toward that wonderful close, I think, of Jack Nicholson saying, "You just had yer throat cut." And that was what I think we all fell in love with, that moment. So we knew we had to do a western that was convoluted in other ways away from that, away from the flat-out, face-to-face shoot-out. I have a lot of affection for that film. It had the boldness to be, to change expectations in a western with these two great stars. Well, everybody was disappointed. The studio said, "We said in the beginning it would never work unless they had a shoot-out." And that was it.

And it's the whole beauty of it.

I think it is the beauty of the film.

How had Brando changed since you last worked with him? Or had he?

He hadn't really. We had remained friends through that period. Although I'm not a Hollywood person. I've never lived out there. But we had seen each other from time to time when he came to New York, or when I went out there for a one- or two-day business trip, and we had remained friends through that period. And when we came to make the film, he was in pretty wonderful form. I'll give you a simple example. We were confronted with these things by lawyers, lawyers fighting for this, suddenly I was told, "You have Brando for 20 days and that's all." And I was rather shocked, so, as we were approaching the 20th day, I started to shoot a scene day-for-night, which I loathe, and Marlon came up and said, "Why are we shooting this day-for-night?" And I said, "On account of you, because I have to let you go tomorrow." And he said, "Aw, forget about it. Everybody, go home, we'll come back tonight, and the next night and the next night if we have to." And he was very available. He was living in a wonderfully big mobile home with his son, Christian, the poor young man who is now in jail.

How much of his quite staggering interpretation of that character was scripted?

None. None. We decided it together. Because, when we looked at the character as it was written in the script, he was nobody, he was just this dark eminence who struck like the apocalypse, you know. And I thought, this is going to be just dreadful on the screen. Then, of course, Marlon said, "Lissen, lemme play him as an Indian." And I said, "No. Marlon, no. Not as an Indian." So we sat there talking about it, and essentially we said: this guy's got to be different every time we see him. That's his personality, that he's ephemeral, that he's chameleon like and in permanent disguise. And that's where we went from, so, finally, he ends up dressed as Granny.

It is just amazing. It probably stands as the last time he seemed really super-committed to a role for the entire length of a movie. You mentioned the studio's dismay at the lack of a shoot-out; I think people were also expecting, not a physical shoot-out, but a series of scenes where these two acting giants went face-to-face. But that's another thing you almost go out of your way to avoid as long as you can.

No, we weren't really trying to avoid it; we just found it very difficult. To have them encounter each other, and not have one or the other kill each other right there and then. Because, by then, Nicholson knew that Brando was killing off his band, and Brando knew that Nicholson was the head of it. So we were trapped. So what we dealt with was, instead of the action, the obstacles to the action.

How were Brando and Nicholson together?

Oh, they were great. They live facing each other. Literally they have houses facing each other, so they're very close. And they were very close on the film. But Jack, as a good actor, withdrew from Marlon during the shooting, didn't exercise the friendship. He would go away whenever he had an opportunity, go into his trailer, just to stay away, to stay in hiding really, as a good actor should. You know, too much chatter between the two of them would have ruined what they had.

l'originale è qui:

http://brightlightsfilm.com/65/65arthurpenniv.php

The ruler

 “ Per le prime veti pagine della sceneggiatura, io sono il personaggio di cui ognuno parla: sta per arrivare, è in arrivo. Io sono proprio quello che promette di arrivare. Povero Jack Nicholson: è lo che aspetta e io sono come un moscerino che gira attorno a una lampada. Volevo che il mio personaggio fosse diverso, un vero ritratto dell’indiano americano.

Ma Arthur Penn mi disse: o Dio Brando, non con quanto costa il film! E io: Arthur, allora lasciami almeno divertire un poco “.

Intervista con Lo Janos, in Time, 15-05-1976

  Pochi accenni sul film  e su Arthur Penn, e mi dispiace perché su questo gran western si dovrà pur tornare un’altra volta.

   Tutto sembra svolgersi all’insegna del doppio: da un lato la sceneggiatura di Thomas McGuane e dall’altro il prodotto finale del regista che non rispetta lo script; due divi che magari si fronteggiano eppure vivono di una vita propria indipendente; e ancora, due rappresentazioni della vita, quella della legge ( che non c’è) e quella dell’esterno alla legge; infine due lavori interdipendenti, l’allevatore di cavalli e i ladri di cavalli. Basta.

  Io sto con il ladro di cavalli, un bandito che ama l’orto e gli animali da cortile, a cui, finalmente, una donna dice: “ io ti ammiro ”.

  Un’ultima annotazione: in una sovversione che ammiriamo Penn ci presenta dei buoni che sono i cattivi e dei cattivi che sono i buoni. Solo in un western può accadere, ben prima l’aveva sperimentato, con grande sgomento, Sergio Corbucci ne Il grande Silenzio.

  Fine, per ora, quello che ci interessa è Marlon Brando. Questo è il secondo incontro con Arthur Penn dopo La caccia del 1965. Pontecorvo si era fatto cadere le braccia, Coppola e Bertolucci si sono lasciati condurre, Penn ha chiuso gli occhi ed ha esclamato : fai quello che vuoi, tanto al montaggio siamo soli io, Greenberg, Rotten ed il fido Dede Allen. Così è stato.

  L’Attore qui, ingrassato,assorbendo la fisionomia di un suo alter , Rod Steiger,  gigioneggia per un ruolo che appare secondario e che solo l’essere una star pone al primo posto nei titoli e nel battage pubblicitari; dove un comprimario – uno come Lee Marvin prima maniera - avrebbe avuto il “ e con “ alla fine dello scorrimento degli interpreti. Da Queimada ad Apocalypse Now mi pare che gli abbiano dato queste parti ingrate di “ruler” - tradotto come “ regolatore “ – che viene spedito o ingaggiato ad appianare un contesto instabile o anarcoide, come in questo caso. Da istrione usa tutte le maschere possibili, anche quelle della comprensione, ma poi si fa prendere la mano dal suo Creedmore. E’ in pace solo con la natura: la terra riceverà il suo sangue dopo quello che ha fatto versare a quei figli dei fiori che vogliono giocare ai ladri di cavalli, ad assaltare treni come Jesse James.

  Segnalo solo una sequenza in particolare, dove il nostro abbigliato come la moglie di un quacchero, con tanto di cuffia, dopo aver riempito di chiacchiere il malcapitato Harry Dean Stanton, lo inchioda ad  un albero con quell’ arnese che sembra una croce di Malta, quella del proiettore Cinemeccanica, che talvolta bloccandosi produce una specie di fermo immagine che brucia la pellicola.

  “ Brando rappresenta piuttosto la follia di un sistema che ci dice che possiamo uccidere senza essere colpevoli. E’ uno strumento del potere, che il potere usa per salvare se stesso e che prenderà il sopravvento. E’ uso costante della storia americana: quando avete una politica che si basa sulla degenerazione, chiamate un pazzo. Non è importante che si possa provare che sono stati proprio loro. Al potere importa che, d’accordo o no, questi pazzi ci siano “.

Arthur Penn in La Republica, 01-08-1976

Is Nothing Sacred? Papà ha paura di Marlon Brando

Una schietta conversazione con il primo attore

di Bruce Cook

  Voi non ci crederete: Sono a Billins, Montana, e in questa cittadina della prateria il solo argomento di conversazione è Marlon Brando. Scendo al “ Ramada Inn”  e, mentre firmo la scheda, la ragazza che sta al banco si sporge e mi dice, in tono confidenziale: “ Lo sa che c’è qui Marlon Brando? “

  “ Qui? Al “ Ramada Inn ? “

  “ Be’ … no”. Sembra offesa e si mette sulla difensiva: “ Ma è qui a Billings: Sta girando un film appena fuori città “ .

  “ Lo so: E? per questo che sono qui”.

  Capisco di essere cresciuto di almeno un metro nella sua stima. Non c’è bisogno di farle sapere che io non c’entro con il film; sono venuto solo per scrivere un articolo. L’uomo del mistero.

  Il fattorino avrà diciannove o venti anni ed è un ragazzo simpatico. Gli metto in mano un dollaro e, mentre compie il consueto rituale controllo degli interruttori e degli asciugamani, gli capita di dire , oh, con estrema noncuranza: 2 Saprà, immagino, che qui stanno girando un film “.

  “ Davvero? “ Faccio finta di niente . “ E chi ci recita ? “

  “ Marlon Brando! Favoloso, no? Proprio qui a Billings. L’ho visto l’altra sera “.

  “ Con i tuoi occhi? “

  “ Be?, almeno mi hanno detto che era lui su una roulotte in Rimrock Road. Non è che sia riuscito avederlo bene “.

  Quarantacinque minuti dopo, in sala da pranzo siede al tavolo accanto una famiglia che pare uscita da un film con Doris Day degli anni Cinquanta. La graziosa biondina – dovrebbe interpretare la parte di Sandra Dee – si sporge per dire alla sorella maggiore, Doris: “ Be’, sinceramente, non vedo che cosa ci sai di male. Perché non potremmo fare una corsa fin lì in macchina e chiedergli se possiamo restare a guardare un po’? Alla peggio ci dicono di no “.

  “ Ma potremmo vedere lui “.

  “ Un momento “, dice il padre. “ Chi è questo lui?”

  “ Ma, papà, lo sai benissimo. Marlon Brando “.

  “ Ah “. Dalla ruga che gli compare sulla fronte capisci subito che sta pensando all’ Ultimo tango a Parigi. Anche se non l’ha visto, ha sentito parlare di quel panetto di burro. “ Non pensateci neanche. Abbiamo cose più importanti da fare che girare per la campagna a cercare … lui”.

Tratto da:

Thomas McGuane,  MISSOURI, ed Oscar Mondadori, 1976

Trad.  Ettore Capriolo

Le dernier tango

Sixième long-métrage de Bernardo Bertolucci, Le Dernier Tango à Paris marque le cinéma des années 1970 à plus d’un titre. D’abord par le parfum de scandale qui l’accompagne, véhiculé non seulement par les scènes érotiques (jugées pornographiques par l’Italie, qui finit par l’interdire), mais aussi par la philosophie profondément nihiliste. Mais c’est surtout son esthétisme qui fascine encore aujourd’hui : l’éclairage, la photographie et le montage créent une atmosphère spécifique qui imprimera le style Bertolucci.

Paul (Marlon Brando), Américain d’âge mur vivant à Paris, est dévasté par le suicide de sa femme Rosa, qu’il n’a visiblement jamais su comprendre. Dans un grand appartement vide à louer, il rencontre Jeanne (Maria Schneider), jeune Parisienne, solaire et curieuse. Dans un contrat tacite où aucun des deux ne devra rien chercher à savoir de l’autre, ils réapprennent la simple danse des corps, l’étreinte originelle, la fusion sexuelle. Une expérimentation de l’acte amoureux qui s’avèrera jeu dangereux et désespérant.

Le Dernier Tango à Paris est profondément un film de tango. Pas un film sur le tango, bien sûr, mais Bertolucci s’approprie totalement le rythme et l’essence de cette musique comme fil rouge de son récit. D’abord, comme symbole du héros : danse rebelle, provocatrice et explicitement érotique, voire obscène, née dans les quartiers populaires argentins du 19ème siècle, elle est vite associée aux lupanars et aux bordels. Elle symbolise tout ce que le corps peut dire de colère et de révolte quand le discours ne sert à rien, n’est pas entendu. Précisément, des mots, la parole même, Paul n’en a plus, ne veut plus en avoir. Il ne veut plus avoir à faire qu’avec ce qui est encore vivant en lui : son corps.

Ensuite, comme rythme, qui imprègne tout le film, tantôt vif et agressif, tantôt langoureux, profondément sensuel et érotique. Un rythme adopté par la caméra de Bertolucci, qui traque un homme comme mort : on plonge sur lui, on en fait le tour avec des mouvements souvent vifs et agressifs. La musique de Gato Barbieri est totalement en accord avec ce rythme, et l’accompagne pour mieux suivre les mouvements, parfois imprévisibles et violents comme le tango, de Paul. Le fait que Barbieri ait jusqu’ici beaucoup travaillé sur des thrillers n’est sans doute pas étranger à un certain suspens qu’il insuffle à sa musique et, du coup, au récit.

Enfin, comme érotisme, qui se déploie ici comme une valse macabre, une énergie du désespoir. Quelques minutes après leur rencontre dans l’appartement, Paul s’empare de Jeanne, ils font l’amour comme on se noie. C’est le début de leur contrat dans lequel aucun ne devra chercher à connaître le nom, l’histoire, de l’autre.

La manière dont Bertolucci les met en scène montre un couple impossible, infaisable. Jamais côte à côte ni véritablement reposés l’un sur l’autre, Marlon Brandon et Maria Schneider ne sont jamais filmés dans le même axe : un décalage subsiste perpétuellement entre eux par la position même de la caméra (qui ne montre pas un couple, mais deux antagonistes), accentué par la défragmentation des personnages, filmés dans un miroir, une vitre brisée, ou dont le mouvement est coupé par une porte, un mur. On avait déjà eu d’ailleurs un aperçu de cette violence et de cette distorsion des êtres dès le générique, avec les portraits rouges aux visages déformés de Francis Bacon, dont Bertolucci reprend les couleurs et la division horizontale des images. Fragmentation des êtres accentuée par un montage souvent déroutant, qui abolit l’ancrage spatio-temporel, marque lui aussi cette rupture avec les repères sociétaux classiques et la relation de tension entre Brandon et Schneider.

Au-delà de l’érotisme et de la violence, Le Dernier Tango à Paris propose une réflexion sur l’acte amoureux et sur le couple, loin des diktats culturels (le mariage, les bonnes mœurs...) qui finissent tout de même par l’influencer. A travers les corps à corps, le film présente une oscillation continuelle entre fantasmes de domination (la célèbre scène de sodomie avec le beurre...), et fantasme de renaissance d’un nouveau moi, sans identification sociale : une autre célèbre scène est ainsi le pendant à celles qui restent dans la brutalité, celle où Paul et Jeanne sont assis sur le grand lit, nus, face à face, baignés d’une chaude lumière jaune et douce, et qu’il ne se parlent que par grognements animaux. L’espace vide de l’appartement devient le réceptacle de ces fantasmes et de cette quête, d’où le monde extérieur est absent, et les règles de la civilisation comme abolies.

Monde extérieur et société qui ne sont d’ailleurs pas totalement absents du film : ils sont les révélateurs de la recherche impossible du couple Paul/ Jeanne. A côté d’eux, un personnage notamment est particulièrement intéressant : celui de Tom, campé par un tout jeune Jean-Pierre Léaud. Apprenti cinéaste ambitieux et optimiste, fiancé de Jeanne, il représente à la fois le pendant de Paul, et le symbole d’un type de réalisateur, d’un type de cinéma. Ce personnage introduit une autre volonté du cinéaste. Dans Le Dernier Tango à Paris, il ne s’agit nullement d’une obscénité sans fin, moins encore d’une provocation gratuite. Il s’agit aussi d’interroger l’enfance et le passé des personnages, leur identité. Bertolucci enchevêtre ainsi trois fragments narratifs : Paul qui pleure sa femme et cherche l’explication de son suicide dans un hôtel filmé comme un labyrinthe, Jeanne dont le petit ami filme la vie pour un « Portrait d’une jeune fille » commandé par la télévision, mais qui ne parvient qu’à fixer des clichés sur la pellicule. Enfin, l’histoire de Paul et de Jeanne elle-même, comme mythe de la recherche d’un éden, d’une redécouverte de soi, débarrassé des oripeaux de la société.

Sarah Elkaïm

l'originale è qui:

http://www.critikat.com/Le-Dernier-tango-a-Paris.html

Luce azzurra, luce arancione

Finito Il Conformista c’è stato un attimo di crisi mi chiedevo: cosa può esserci dopo l’azzurro? Non avevo la più pallida idea che potesse nascere un film arancio, non potevo davvero immaginarlo. C’è voluta un’altra emozione, un altro tipo di coinvolgimento in an’altra storia che sviluppasse un altro colore nella mia vita o nella nostra. E’ stato il caso, per l’appunto, di Ultimo tango.

Bertolucci è un cineasta con una personalità particolare. Il modo di girare un film e per Bernardo un fatto viscerale, un bisogno fisico oltre che intellettuale, di girare le sequenze con quella particolare angolazione. Con un regista come lui subentra indirettamente, almeno per ciò che mi riguarda, una forma di sincronia. Io cerco di esprimermi attraverso la  luce, Bernardo mediante la cinepresa; così non c’è mai conflitto, ma sintonia.

Vittorio Storaro

L’avventurosa storia del cinema italiano raccontata dai suoi protagonisti 1935 – 1959 a cura di Franca Faldini e Goffredo Fofi, Feltrinelli

Marlon Brando non farà più nulla di simile

“ A suo tempo definivo il film un  Jean Rouch hollywoodiano , una cinema-verità con i mezzi e con gli attori“. Bernardo Bertoluccci

Di questo film di Bernardo Bertolucci ho già parlato in un precedente post. Oggi ripeterò sicuramente qualcosa già scritta in quell’occasione, quando ho mutilato Ultimo tango delle scene che contenevano la storia tra Tom e Jeanne, un omaggio alla Nouvelle Vauge godardiana e all’Antoine Doinel truffautiano.

Oggi l’opera di Bertolucci serve per parlare di Marlon Brando e del ruolo avuto per portarlo a termine. L’ho rivisto da poco dopo quell’unica volta al cinema Trinacrica, il primo giorno, era un venerdì, al primo spettacolo, le sedici, affollatissimo per timore del sequestro;  cosa che avvenne puntualmente, e le cui peripezie censorie sono un altro film: al sequestro seguì la condanna e quindi il rogo, come Giordano Bruno.

Oggi fa ridere tutta la vicenda, quando giusto ieri la televisione di stato ha innalzato sull’altare Schicchi, padre esemplare e menager della pornografia. A quei tempi non erano le immagini che interessavano i censori, erano le  idee.

Non avevo compiuto diciotto anni e riuscii ad entrare, passando sotto il naso delle maschere, per la ressa che spingeva verso l’interno della sala, ora ahimè  scomparsa.

Marlon Brando era ancora nelle vesti di don Vito Corleone quando accettò la parte. A lui si presentarono il regista ed il produttore che era Alberto Grimaldi, anzi la leggenda vuole che Brando abbia accettato il ruolo perché si sentiva in difetto con il produttore italiano per la tempesta sollevata durante la lavorazione di Queimada.

All’americano si arrivò dopo i dinieghi e le paure di alcuni attori europei : Jean Luis Trintignant e Dominique Sanda, Jean Paul Belmondo e Alain Delon. Dinieghi che alla fine favorirono la piega che prese il film per mezzo di Brando, aldilà della sceneggiatura che portava la firma oltre che di Bertolucci, di Franco Kim Arcalli, autore pure del montaggio con Roberto Perpignani.

Ho seguito Bernardo Bertolucci fino a Il tè nel deserto e devo dire che Ultimo tango a Parigi assieme a quello citato prima ed a La Luna, che comunque al suo interno celava un lirismo di derivazione verdiana, sono le sole opere che mi sommergono di dubbi. E’il buio assoluto, le tele di Bacon sullo sfondo dei titoli di testa lo chiariscono tutto;  nero come la lava che l’Etna sta eruttando in questi giorni, affidandola allo scirocco che pensa a sospingerla sullo Stretto coprendone tetti, terrazze e broccoli. Le note del tango di Gato Barbieri che Brando e la Schneider ballano ebbri, sul finire, irretendo quanti stanno attorno, sono un preludio funebre che neppure certi passaggi felici possono in qualche modo schiarire la tela dello schermo che riflette l’azione del film. A volte alcuni grandi autori cinematografici scambiarono lo schermo cinematografico per il lettino dello psicanalista circuendo lo spettatore.

E nessuno, ripeto nessuno più di Marlon Brando poteva portarne il peso . Ultimo tango è Marlon Brando e viceversa. La lezione dell’Actor Studio è portata all’estremo per il cruento realismo della recitazione che recò qualche disturbo alla protagonista femminile, allora debuttante.  Addirittura si parlò di violenza sulla malcapitata Maria durante la messa in scena da parte dell’indistruttibile attore. Molto probabilmente Bertolucci ritenne opportuno lasciare la massima libertà d’azione a Brando, al contrario di Gillo Pontecorvo, ed in questo non gli si può dare torto.

La sequenza o scena che ancora oggi mi sconcerta e che per me vale tutto il film, è quella quando Marlon Brando si trova affianco Massimo Girotti che porta la sua identica veste da camera, data in regalo ad entrambi dalla stessa donna amata. E’ un momento autobiografico per il più grande attore hollywoodiano, l’attore di Kazan, ancora all’apice della sua carriera come, e qui qualcuno storcerà il naso, per il più grande attore italiano, quello di Blasetti, Visconti, Antonioni e Pietro Germi, per citarne alcuni. I due, confidenzialmente ed amichevolmente si fanno i complimenti per la bellezza e la prestanza fisica avuta in gioventù.

Bertolucci riferì, al momento del lancio del film, che Brando gli disse: “ Non farò più nulla di simile. E’ l’ultima volta che do fondo in questo modo alle mie energie.”

Giro di vita

Tra Queimada ed Il padrino Marlon Brando aveva preso la parte dell’infernale Quint ne Improvvisamente un uomo nella notte  (The nightcomers)  di Michael Winner, tratto da Giro di vite di Henry James. E’ un film aberrante che vidi al cinema Aurora, scomparso repentinamente e dimenticato.

Secondo Reneé Jordan “è un bel ruolo ed un’interpretazione penetrante in un film che non avrebbe meritato ne l’uno ne l’altra, Michael  (Il giustiziere della notte )Winner lo diresse facendo ricorso ai suoi soliti vuoti barocchismi.”

Your bags, senor?

Why would Queimada be Marlon Brando's favorite film? Especially when he hated Pontecorvo's obsessive direction of (up to) 49 takes per scene, and in fact deserted the shoot in Cartagena, Colombia, before the film was finished? Problems with bandits, heat and horrible conditions, a stoned-out crew... miscommunication.... (Pontecorvo spoke no English & packed a pistol) made the experience less than ideal for him. But "you have to separate people from their talent," said Brando in his acerbic recollection of Pontecorvo in Lawrence Grobel's Conversations with Brando (1991).

According to Peter Manso in his Brando biography, this wasn't a good period in the actor's life. He was in a middle-age skid, drinking heavily, doing acid, and binge-eating while holed-up in his Mulholland Drive house, and when the Pontecorvo film came along he welcomed the project as a chance to re-legitimize his career.

Action films like Morituri (1966) and The Night Of The Following Day (1967) were hack jobs done for money -- Queimada was something else, a serious script that fitted well with his social activism on behalf of the American Indian and the black civil rights movement. While he played his fake Nazi agent provocateur in Morituri to perfection, his portrayal of Sir William Walker seems less effective, although it allowed him to be both a thug and an intellectual, exploit the strengths of his acting style. He has the look, no question -- the stocky English bulldog, arrogant, cynical and dangerous, yet behind it all, a humanist. No clowning, just serious work.

"Now listen to me you black ape," says Walker, "I didn't start this. I arrived here and you were already butchering one another." Jose, who has refused to speak to Walker, just spits in his face. At this point he gives up trying to save Jose, goes to the site of the gallows where he finds a worker trying to make a noose. Walker takes the rope, deftly applies the hangman's knot, says, "You see, Paco, this is how they do it." Indeed. Walker mounts his horse; he doesn't wait around for Jose's execution, as he must hurry to his own.

© Lawrence Russell / March 2010

L’originale è qui:
http://www.culturecourt.com/F/euro/Queimada.htm

Marlon Brando's speech

Marlon Brando, Littlefeather and the Best Actor Oscar In 1973 as part of the 45th Academy Awards® Marlon Brando was nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award for his portrayal of Don Vito Corleone in The Godfather. His fellow nominees where Paul Winfield (Sounder), Michael Caine (Sleuth), Laurence Olivier (Sleuth) and Peter O'Toole (The Ruling Class.)
 When Marlon Brando was announced as the winner, a young woman in full Indian garb rose to accept the award. Her name was Sacheen Littlefeather and she was an activist with the American Indian Movement. She had come to tell the Academy that Marlon Brando was refusing the award as means of protesting what he saw was a negative portrayal of American Indians in Hollywood movies and television shows. Marlon had given Miss. Littlefeather a very long speech to read but the producers of the show refused to let her read it. She instead made the following comments: "Marlon Brando has asked me to tell you, in a very long speech which I cannot share with you presently — because of time — but I will be glad to share with the press afterward, that he must ... very regretfully ... cannot accept this very generous award. And the reason for this being ... are the treatment of American Indians today by the film industry ... excuse me ... and on television in movie re-runs, and also the recent happenings at Wounded Knee. I beg at this time that I have not intruded upon this evening and that we will, in the future ... our hearts and our understanding will meet with love and generosity. Thank you on behalf of Marlon Brando."
 The speech was met with both boos and clapping from the audience. Later in the telecast Clint Eastwood made a sarcastic comment about the incident and John Wayne who as attending the awards that year was said to be very angry. Marlon Brando never took possession of the Oscar and do this day nobody knows what happened to it.
Text of Marlon Brando's Undelivered Speech That Unfinished Oscar Speech By MARLON BRANDO BEVERLY HILLS, Calif. -- For 200 years we have said to the Indian people who are fighting for their land, their life, their families and their right to be free: ''Lay down your arms, my friends, and then we will remain together. Only if you lay down your arms, my friends, can we then talk of peace and come to an agreement which will be good for you.'' When they laid down their arms, we murdered them. We lied to them. We cheated them out of their lands. We starved them into signing fraudulent agreements that we called treaties which we never kept. We turned them into beggars on a continent that gave life for as long as life can remember. And by any interpretation of history, however twisted, we did not do right. We were not lawful nor were we just in what we did. For them, we do not have to restore these people, we do not have to live up to some agreements, because it is given to us by virtue of our power to attack the rights of others, to take their property, to take their lives when they are trying to defend their land and liberty, and to make their virtues a crime and our own vices virtues. But there is one thing which is beyond the reach of this perversity and that is the tremendous verdict of history. And history will surely judge us. But do we care? What kind of moral schizophrenia is it that allows us to shout at the top of our national voice for all the world to hear that we live up to our commitment when every page of history and when all the thirsty, starving, humiliating days and nights of the last 100 years in the lives of the American Indian contradict that voice? It would seem that the respect for principle and the love of one's neighbor have become dysfunctional in this country of ours, and that all we have done, all that we have succeeded in accomplishing with our power is simply annihilating the hopes of the newborn countries in this world, as well as friends and enemies alike, that we're not humane, and that we do not live up to our agreements. Perhaps at this moment you are saying to yourself what the hell has all this got to do with the Academy Awards? Why is this woman standing up here, ruining our evening, invading our lives with things that don't concern us, and that we don't care about? Wasting our time and money and intruding in our homes. I think the answer to those unspoken questions is that the motion picture community has been as responsible as any for degrading the Indian and making a mockery of his character, describing his as savage, hostile and evil. It's hard enough for children to grow up in this world. When Indian children watch television, and they watch films, and when they see their race depicted as they are in films, their minds become injured in ways we can never know. Recently there have been a few faltering steps to correct this situation, but too faltering and too few, so I, as a member in this profession, do not feel that I can as a citizen of the United States accept an award here tonight. I think awards in this country at this time are inappropriate to be received or given until the condition of the American Indian is drastically altered. If we are not our brother's keeper, at least let us not be his executioner. I would have been here tonight to speak to you directly, but I felt that perhaps I could be of better use if I went to Wounded Knee to help forestall in whatever way I can the establishment of a peace which would be dishonorable as long as the rivers shall run and the grass shall grow. I would hope that those who are listening would not look upon this as a rude intrusion, but as an earnest effort to focus attention on an issue that might very well determine whether or not this country has the right to say from this point forward we believe in the inalienable rights of all people to remain free and independent on lands that have supported their life beyond living memory. Thank you for your kindness and your courtesy to Miss Littlefeather. Thank you and good night.

L'originale è qui :http://www.destinationhollywood.com/movies/godfather/feature_littlefeather.shtml

Pocahontas meets Marlon Brando

Brando, Littlefeather and the Academy Awards

By Dina Gilio-Whitaker

The social turbulence of the 1970's was a time of great and much-needed change in Indian country. Native American people were in the bottom strata of all social indicators, and it was clear to American Indian youth that the change was not going to happen without dramatic action. By March of 1973 the Alcatraz Island occupation was two years in the past, Indian activists had taken over the Bureau of Indian Affairs building the year before, the siege of Wounded Knee was underway in South Dakota, and the Vietnam War showed no end in sight despite massive protests. No one was without an opinion and certain Hollywood stars are remembered for the stand they would take, even if unpopular and controversial. Marlon Brando was one of them.

American Indian Movement

AIM coalesced out of the frustration of Native American college students in the cities and activists on the reservations who understood all too well the conditions they were living under were a result of oppressive government policies. Drastic problems called for drastic actions and although attempts were made at non-violent protest (the year and a half long Alcatraz occupation was completely non-violent), there were times when violence seemed like the only way to get the attention that was needed.

Tensions came to a head on the Pine Ridge reservation in February 1973 when a group of heavily armed Oglala Lakota and their American Indian Movement supporters overtook a trading post in the town of Wounded Knee, the site of the 1891 massacre of 300 Lakota men, women and children. Demanding regime change of the United States- backed tribal government which had been terrorizing citizens, resulting in dozens of uninvestigated murders on the reservation, the occupiers found themselves in a 71-day armed battle against the FBI and United States Marshal Service with the eyes of the nation watching every night on the evening news.

Marlon Brando: Civil Rights and the Academy Awards

Brando had a long history of supporting various social movements, dating back to at least 1946 when he supported the Zionist movement for a Jewish homeland. He had also participated in the March on Washington in 1963 and supported the work of Dr. Martin Luther King, even donating money to the Black Panthers. In later years he became critical of Israel and supported the Palestinian cause.

Brando was also highly critical of the way Hollywood treated American Indians and the way they were represented in the movies. When he was nominated for an Oscar for the role of Don Corleone in "The Godfather," he refused to attend and instead sent Sacheen Littlefeather (born Marie Cruz), a young Apache/Yaqui activist who had participated in the Alcatraz Island occupation, and a budding model and actress, to represent him. When his name was announced as the winner she went on stage dressed in full native regalia and delivered a short speech on behalf of Brando declining acceptance of the award. He had written a 15-page speech explaining his reasons, but Littlefeather would recount later that she had been threatened with arrest if she attempted to read the entire speech. Instead, she was given 60 seconds in which all she could say was:

"Marlon Brando has asked me to tell you, in a very long speech which I cannot share with you presently-because of time-but I will be glad to share with the press afterward, that he must... very regretfully cannot accept this very generous award.

"And the reason [sic] for this being... are the treatment of American Indians today by the film industry… excuse me… and on television in movie re-runs, and also the recent happenings at Wounded Knee.

"I beg at this time that I have not intruded upon this evening and that we will, in the future...our hearts and our understanding will meet with love and generosity.

"Thank you on behalf of Marlon Brando."

The crowd cheered and booed. The speech was shared at a press conference after the ceremony and was published in its entirety in the New York Times.

The Speech

In 1973 Native Americans had virtually no representation in the film industry and were primarily used as extras while lead roles depicting Indians in several generations of Westerns were almost always given to white actors. Native film scholars have identified different phases of the predominant stereotypes that were perpetuated in Hollywood films since their advent in the late 1800's (see the film "Reel Injuns" for an in-depth look at Native American stereotypes in the film industry). Brando's speech addressed these stereotypes, at a time long before the subject would be taken seriously in the industry:

"Perhaps at this moment you are saying to yourself what the hell has all this got to do with the Academy Awards? Why is this woman standing up here, ruining our evening, invading our lives with things that don't concern us, and that we don't care about? Wasting our time and money and intruding in our homes.

"I think the answer to those unspoken questions is that the motion picture community has been as responsible as any for degrading the Indian and making a mockery of his character, describing his as savage, hostile and evil. It's hard enough for children to grow up in this world. When Indian children watch television, and they watch films, and when they see their race depicted as they are in films, their minds become injured in ways we can never know."

But true to his political sensibilities, Brando also minced no words about America's treatment of American Indians:

"For 200 years we have said to the Indian people who are fighting for their land, their life, their families and their right to be free: 'Lay down your arms, my friends, and then we will remain together...

"When they laid down their arms, we murdered them. We lied to them. We cheated them out of their lands. We starved them into signing fraudulent agreements that we called treaties which we never kept. We turned them into beggars on a continent that gave life for as long as life can remember. And by any interpretation of history, however twisted, we did not do right. We were not lawful nor were we just in what we did. For them, we do not have to restore these people, we do not have to live up to some agreements, because it is given to us by virtue of our power to attack the rights of others, to take their property, to take their lives when they are trying to defend their land and liberty, and to make their virtues a crime and our own vices virtues."

Littlefeather

As a result of her intervention at the Academy Awards, Sacheen Littlefeather received phone calls from Martin Luther King, Jr.'s widow Coretta Scott King and Ceasar Chavez congratulating her for what she'd done. But she also received death threats, was lied about in the media (including allegations that she wasn't Indian), and was blacklisted in Hollywood. Yet, her speech made her famous literally overnight and her fame would be exploited by Playboy magazine. In 1972 Littlefeather and a handful of other Native American women had posed for Playboy but the photos had never been published until October 1973, not long after the Academy Awards incident. Because she had signed a model release she had no legal recourse to contest their publication.

Littlefeather has long been an accepted and highly respected member of the Native American community despite lingering speculation about her identity. She continued her social justice work for Native Americans from her home in the San Francisco Bay area. She worked as an advocate for Native American AIDS patients, did other health education work, and worked with Mother Theresa doing hospice care for AIDS patients.

 l'originale lo trovate qui:

http://nativeamericanhistory.about.com/od/controversies/a/Brando-Littlefeather-And-The-Academy-Awards.htm



don Vito Andolini alias Corleone

La leggenda vuole che quando Franceschino (Francis Ford) Coppola ebbe in mano definitivamente, dopo varie offerte a diversi registi che andavano per la maggiore in quel momento, tra cui il sommo Sergio Leone Tolstoi, il compito di dirigere Il Padrino (The Godfather), si chiuse in clausura con l’autore del romanzo, tale Mario Puzo, per redigere la sceneggiatura del film.

Un giorno di quelli, si presentò davanti a lui, che era un giovanottone ben nutrito, con una faccia che alcuni confondevano con quella di Jerry (Grateful Dead) Garcia, folti capelli neri, barba nera da cui spuntava solo l naso sormontato dagli occhiali, si presentò dicevamo, infrangendo l’isolamento,  Marlon Brando già truccato da don Vito Corleone.

Coppola, folgorato da quella visione inaspettata, dovette faticare non poco per imporre ai tycoons della Paramount l’attore, che a quei tempi, dopo Queimada, si era fatta la reputazione d’uomo irascibile. Alla fine, e per la maggior gloria del film, il regista la spuntò e Marlon Brando ebbe il ruolo compresa la silhouette nei titolo e sui manifesti.

Qui non è il caso di ripetere quanto è già stato scritto sul film che ormai ha superato i quarant’anni suonati. A noi interessa il lavoro di Marlon Brando e la sua presenza  nel film. Egli si muove da vecchio saggio, padre di famiglia con autorità ponderata. A ben guardare la recitazione di tutti gli altri interpreti, quando lui è in scena, sembra essere direttamente portata avanti da lui: Al Pacino, James Caan, John Cazale, Robert Duvall  e gli altri stanno sotto la ala protettrice e questo succederà anche nel sequel, Il Padrino parte II, dove Robert De Niro, don Vito da giovane, reciterà il ruolo non del personaggio bensì dell’attore Marlon Brando.

Giunto nelle sale il film esplose portando soldi nelle tasche dei produttori, fortuna a Coppola come ad Al Pacino. Marlon Brando rinnovò la sua notorietà vincendo la seconda statuetta per la migliore interpretazione maschile ed a ritirarla, senza farsi smentire, mandò Sacheen Littlefeather  , che lesse un proclama sui diritti civili dei nativi americani.

A questo punto mi preme dire soltanto una cosa: i due ” Padrino”, sono opere che come poche altre, riescono a marcare un distacco tra lo spettatore e le vite turbolente di uomini spietati, al contrario di quanto avviene oggi ed in specie nel tubo catodico, da  cui lo spettatore è portato a convincersi di poter condurre anch’egli  la vita degli  intrallazzatori di ogni specie o di donne di dubbia virtù.

Great political movies

Great political movies (No17) Queimada (Burn!) Posted on February 7, 2011 by matthewashton

 Everyone seems to have seen The Battle of Algiers, which I reviewed last week. However for some reason it’s follow-up, Queimada, better known by its title in the US, ‘Burn!’, is now undeservedly forgotten. The director Gillo Pontecorvo revisits many of the themes of his earlier work, such as colonialism and revolution but this time has a significantly bigger budget to play around with. As result the film is made in colour and features Hollywood’s most mercurial talent, Marlon Brando, as it’s star. Queimada is a historical epic that tells the story of a decade in the life of a small Portuguese colony in the 19th century. Sir William Walker, played by Brando, is an English agent sent to the colony to help stir up revolution for the benefit of the British Empire. He arrives to discover that the man who was going to be the leader of the rebel army has just been executed by the authorities, and so sets about manufacturing himself a new one. He quickly tricks porter Jose Delores, played by newcomer Evaristo Marquez, into first robbing a bank, then killing a Portuguese guard and then taking up arms against the government. At the same time he is also fermenting revolution amongst the white settlers by making them promises of the benefits free trade will bring. The revolution is a success, but parties on all sides quickly discover that once taken power is a difficult thing to wield. Of course this isn’t Sir Walker’s problem as he is seen departing the island for similar work in Indo-China (a nod to the ongoing Vietnam War). The film then flashes forward ten years as he returns to the island to help put down the native rebellion that he created in the first place. This is one of the best ever films to explore the issues of racism and colonialism from a Marxist perspective. For instance, in the scene below Walker explains to the colonists the benefits of freeing their slaves, not because it is the right things to do, but because of the economic benefits of having a more flexible workforce, (warning: some nudity and a lot of sexism): Later in order to destroy the rebel army, Walker orders all of the crop fields to be burnt down. A representative of the sugar trading company is appalled because it will damage their profits. Walker coolly tells him that it will only impact their profits for a few years and that they have hundreds left to exploit the island. He also points out that the company has dozens of possessions like this one where the workers might be encouraged to rebel, which is why the revolution must be put down with such force. Rarely has the relationship between big business and colonial empire been given such a thorough economic critique on film. While Brando is clearly the villain of the piece, it’s a fantastic piece of acting on his part. He plays Walker as being cheerfully amoral, a man who knows the value and price of everything but is largely unconcerned by the consequences of his actions. At one stage he even admits that he is not well paid for his services but does it because he enjoys it. Apparently the film shoot was a nightmare for all concerned and they were beset by technical and language difficulties. There should probably be a rule for filmmakers that if you want to film an epic, don’t film it in the jungle with Marlon Brando. As Francis Ford Coppola discovered a decade later with Apocalypse Now, it rarely ends well. The lessons of Queimada are still relevant today. For instance, the idea of a colonial power creating a rebel movement for its own ends, but then loosing control of it, has parallels with the USA’s role in supporting the Taliban in the 1980s. It also asks the question of what happens when a revolution leaves you less free than before? Finally if that doesn’t convince you then the film also boosts one of Ennio Morricone’s best scores, as used here over the opening credits:

L'originale è qui:
http://drmatthewashton.com/2011/02/07/great-political-movies-no17-queimada-burn/