In France don't like to talk about those shameful decades that followed thirty happy years after the war.
The authorities prefer not to think about the fact that France didn't know what to suggest, because the battle against American and European matrix was lost even before it took place. But once it was different....
Fantomas, all swallowed in their raw form — and the French, and Monsieur Hulot. Market square holiday decoration was replaced with supermarkets, departmental roads replaced the airports in average, the good old French bourgeois was replaced by "Bobo", and the peasants and workers replaced all of our immigrants. As soon as start or comic silent cinema, the cinema of Jacques Tati, in metaphysics: look at Bergson, who at the beginning of the glorious epoch of silent movies publishes "Laugh" with his famous definition of the mechanism, adhering to a living. Two hours convincing reasoning!
Comic predisposes to philosophical reflections; with his sports (need to have strong legs, said Tati), special mounting, by scientific training, with reflections on space and time (remember the clock tower Harold Lloyd) and a sense of the gap that exists between the hero-a dreamer and the civilized world. Comic character, like the hero of Peter Sellers in "the Party" of Blake Edwards, embodies the characters of Voltaire or lady, not adapted to civilization. This is certainly not the hero-founder of culture, as represented by Mircea Eliade who raises his voice to marginalized people and the provocateur, which spoils the cybernetic machine.
The one who disturbs my money changers at the temple. You can imagine that when Jesus swept away their handcarts, that he did not burden himself with unnecessary comments. And how that must have inflated these merchants and moneychangers! We are in the area of silent, when the initial downfall, before linguistic Babylon has come to defile the cinema. But I'm pretty philosophized on this topic: look and see the "Main driver" of Bastora Keaton — the most brilliant and most mechanical in the history of film, in addition is the most romantic and the most politically incorrect, because he saw the future only in the Confederacy.
For a long time I preferred the films of Tati. The simplicity and kindness of the character, color the beauty of the images, the music of the accordion, sounds (two years mix in the sound Studio for the film Play Time!) and nostalgia, especially nostalgia is the secret weapon that makes us regret that we did not appreciate it in the present...
However, rarely does a film could make us so much to think about the missing space, and then — and of the passing time; and since it removes and says the son of a Russian immigrant, we believe him even more. Take a look at his holiday with his quiet village and a troubled feast, with an athletic and slightly obsessed postman, ruthless with his camera and films about post American aviation: the entire village is laughing at the postman, who still belongs to the matrix! The Americans have gone ahead fifty years (especially in NJ)!
And tomorrow the Chinese will get richer. Poor France! Her poor income! The progress matrix is particularly noticeable in the film "My uncle", which received worldwide success and was especially popular in the USSR, it can be seen, a significant anti-bourgeois context and vivid silent Comedy the artist. We find ourselves in French poetry — a little grimy, but the real, to confront an age of machines, cyborgs and bourgeois, turned into a "Bobo" (with the old doll, lonely mowing his lawn). The kids there are still poets — after all, video games don't have. Dogs there is just irresistible, especially when you need to play and be a clown; and the suburbs already are erased under the blows of the excavator.
Read Selina, who gave a description of this picture: Vigny-sur-Seine, located between two gateways, it occupies a ravine between two forested hills: this is the village that gradually fade, turning into a suburb. Paris soon engulf her. Every month she loses one... People live here restless, children have a different accent than the parents. If you are still in the Seine and Oise, you feel a bit awkward. But the miracle is already done. With the coming to power of Laval has gone past the Park, and after the summer vacations coming the servants raised the hourly cost twenty centimes.
Wonderful allusion about Laval! Thank you Celine, thank you! The destruction and replacement of France by something else especially felt in the movie Play Time. Not much left of anything, there is only a single airport, highways, shopping centers, shops of household and pharmacy products and restaurants for jazz orchestras. Paris only exists in reflections and the reflections in the glass doors of the skyscrapers, as they are known today. Hulot is a memory, like the army, which was abolished today. You can play a military parade, but it will stop soon. Hulot remains is to die, better to leave. Incredible scenery of the film were not used — they were demolished, as usual, to build another highway. France was underground, it went under the asphalt. And the rest of the story has little significance. Bold Director and not funded by the author, Tati went bankrupt because people intoxicated with the TV, had no more ability to contemplate the metaphysical richness and depth of every joke. TV is that which covered thee the whole world, as was Goddard. This black tide. And the people, what do they want? Give them the American series because their brains are leased, like real estate on the vacant lots. These are not my words, so put the cartridge TF1, who also works in real estate.
But back to Hulot, to his vacation, sandwiched Englishwoman and his services to tennis. This film represents a poetic and plastic, mechanical and acoustic excellence (watch it without sound and then listen without looking at the picture, and then mix both, and you will see). In addition, he denounces the mechanical aspect of human life, satisfied with the everyday life of a holiday-maker, pseudococcidae time, rail transport (the siren and the station!), barren verbal flows. And in the finale, of course, nostalgia for the impossible love, the unbearable nostalgia before the onset of the progressive era.
Goodbye, Monsieur Hulot, our silent and attentive eyes see you. I'll see again my Normandy, but on another planet.
Translation Of Tatiana Bonnal
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