Vietnamese Slick

 

The white limo is outside. My guts are twisting and turning. Down the rabbit hole we go.

'I'm sure you have a lot of questions.'

'Who are you?'

Mr. Bling gives me a card.

Lewis Ranieri, Magician-Entertainer.

'Who are you?'

'A friend.'

'What do you want?'

'To help you.'

'Why?'

'Because this is what I do, I help people with talent to reach their full potential.'

'Why me?'

'I like you, you have style, pizzazz, and you are not greedy. You know when to stop. Your weak spot isn't your pocket, but your heart'

He started to get on my nerves.

'If you want to help, you have to give straight answers.'

'If you want me to help you, you must ask the right questions.'

'How bad is it?'

'Are you familiar with the term storm chasing?'

'No'

'Storm chasers are photographers that love to shoot any severe weather phenomenon. And if you're doing it wrong, the storm is chasing you.'

'That bad..'

'Worse than you think.'

'What can I do?'

'Nothing without me.'

'What's in it for you?'

'I like happy endings, and you my friend, you really needed one.'

He lights a cigarette. Five perfect smoke rings, the one behind the other.

He offerered me champagne.

'So tell me, what I have to do?'

'First, you must take Rinaldi out of the equation.' 

'What do you mean, kill him?'

'No, no, nothing that drastic. Just beat the shit out of him.'

'You are serious.'

'Deadly.'

He smiled. His presence was hypnotic and terrifying at the same time.

'I would be dead, before I step out of his house.'

'Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it. He's having his weekly poker game, I'm taking you there. Don't hold back, make them bleed. And one more thing, you have to beat the others too. Literally.'

I'm dead and this is the waiting room of my personal hell.

'And what happens, if I don't make it?'

'Your sweetheart is doomed. She's quote a dish. A remarkable kind of woman.'

'I know.'

'Not in the way you imagine. She's beautifully broken. A creature that can understand love, only after she commits a crime. A work of art, made by accidents in slow motion. Chaos is her poetry.'

'I hope you don't mind, if I tell her that.'

'Be my guest. Are you ready?'

'No.'

'Great. Have fun.'

Rinaldi is not happy seeing me.

'What do you want?'

'To play.'

'You are not on the list.'

'I'm a very happening cat. Make an exception.'

He's suspicious, but he lets me in. He's trying to figure out my angle. My guts are ready to explode, I'm choking on adrenaline.

Five geezers and me. They are easy prey. First, you take their money. Than, you break them down mentally.

The bald moose is frowning. I'm trying not to laugh.

'You've ruined a friendly game.'

'Don’t worry, it’s just foreplay.'

The others smirk.

'Oh yeah? What's next, our cars and houses?'

'I would say your wives too, but we all know that the last female that touched you on purpose, is dead 30 years now.'

'Cut it out Vic! You won, take your money and leave.'

Rinaldi is pissed. Good.

'One of these days Tassotti, you're going to kill yourself.'

'If I wanted to commit suicide, I I would wrap a cord around my neck, like your stillborn child did.'

His heart attack had a stroke. 

'Get the fuck out, you sick fuck!'

'And you're not taking a dime, you fuckin' thief!'

'And shouldn't put your ass  where they measure  dicks.'

The fuse is lit.

'Hey Ricky, you look good. Are you getting enough these days?'

'3-4 times a day.'

'You must be ugly for having sex 3-4 times a day in jail. Average is 6.'

We are here. I'm three moves ahead.

Toss the cards on Jimmy. Ricky is down. The fatso takes the glass on the head.

Paul tries to run. I break the chair on him.

I knock Jimmy down. Beat the living daylight out of him.

This is like an orgasm. Forbidden senses  are burning, I'm shakin' with rapture.

5 down. I take the money. I'm walking to my house. Soaked in blood. 

What I've done? Am I that crazy? The best and worst thing is that I don't care. I'll climb a mountain of knives just to see you. Highways like crossed swords, I feel off balance. But fear has me on a leash no more. I had no idea that I had no idea. That there's a different kind of happiness. Trying to escape the freak show called reality, I never thought that chaos is the most liberating experience. The purest form of tranquillity. The core of happiness. 

The lunatic was right. After a crime, you feel love burn brighter. Blood slows downs time, leaves a tattoo on it's skin. The signature of perfection. Where are you? I need you, to take all the darkness out of me. Make me walk on stars again.  

Post-credits Scene

And I'm still waiting for the rain

to wash away the darkness

to quench the thirst of this unforgiving fire

to drown half words, half sentences, half breaths

to flood the memory with something

something more than silence

something else than fear

And I'm still waiting for that rain

to teach me how to fall

and paint this withered grey

a crack of blue

a vein of storms

And I'm still waiting for that rain

to make the mirror bloom

Each Man Dies By The Things He Loves

 

But sometimes, once in a while, you a take a breath of freedom, the light quenches the thirst of your eyes, and then you dive deeper in the abyss of the fight. And some lyrics, some songs, keep you going on. Even make you smirk. 

I showed my heart to the doctor: he said I just have to quit.

Then he wrote himself a prescription,

and your name was mentioned in it!

Then he locked himself in a library shelf

with the details of our honeymoon,

and I hear from the nurse that he's gotten much worse

and his practice is all in a ruin.

An Eskimo showed me a movie

he'd recently taken of you:

the poor man could hardly stop shivering,

his lips and his fingers were blue.

I suppose that he froze when the wind took your clothes

and I guess he just never got warm.

But you stand there so nice, in your blizzard of ice,

oh please let me come into the storm.

My Midlife Crisis Has A Midlife Crisis II

 

I was having a drink with some people, after a play. I was minding my own business, when the topic changed. It's the unavoidable Men vs Women.

So, the  opinionated brunette drew first blood. 

"Men. What the fuck do you want?"

I frown and cringe thee.

"Seriously, like totally. Like wow and stuff"

"We men want peace and quiet, love and affection. We want it just as much we are ready to give back. We want to be able to trust. We want to be compatible with our partner. We don't want needless drama. A mix of lusty and loyal."

She  looked at me like I'm behind on child support or something , and started ranting on insecure men, objectification, patriarchy, sexualization, and some other big words she read on instagram.

" I rephrase. These days I value a baseline of sanity. I just want someone to be compatible with my stupidity and madness. Is that too much to ask for?

The conversation went downhill from there, so i deciced to nuke the place and leave.

"Don't try to understand women. Women understand women, that's why they hate each other."

That last look in her eyes, was colder than dying in the North Pole, the coldest day of winter. The city was mumbling, its' Friday night. Started to rain, the streets were like opaque mirrors.

What men want, what women want.. Who the fuck knows? What is happiness anyway? Nothing but a memory? Happiness is making love in the morning. Taking walks. Making a joke out of everything. Talking about everything and nothing at 04:00. Sharing something. Buying something stupid and useless just for the pleasure of it. Sharing your darkest fears and wildest dreams. Planning for the future. Eating chocolate and junk food. Watching the same films. 

Sometimes i pray for god to take away my ability to read. Please Lord, let us live in the bliss of ignorance and cherish our limited time on this wretched planet. Just want someone  who doesn't expect me to be their personal psychological punching bag and simultaneously their psychologist. I'm already my own psychological punching bag and psychologist, cut me some slack.

Another wasted night, that sums up well why the end of times are needed.

My Midlife Crisis Has A Midlife Crisis

 

                                                 I was looking California

                                                  But feeling Botswana

                                                  Didn't know what to do

                                            I'm tired of films and tv shows

                                                  Tried to read a book

                                              But what's the use?

I just want to die in my sleep, while I'm having the most beautiful dream ever

                                         Prayed and asked god for a sign.

                                                   Went for a walk

                             Thought about buying something to cheer me up

                      I'm just lonely. Missing all the things we did together

                                             I bought something after all

                                                     I need a change

                                                   Something drastic

                                                 A spiritual awakening

                                                   A healthier lifestyle

            

                                            Meet new people

                                               Find a new hobby

                                              I'll settle for another drink..

The Card Counter, Cry Macho, το σινεμά που φεύγει κι εκείνο που έρχεται

 

Με αφορμή τις νέες ταινίες των Clint Eastwood και Paul Schrader, ένας σύντομος στοχασμός για μεγάλους δημιουργούς που οδεύουν προς το τέλος της καριέρας τους, το σινέμα που φεύγει και εκείνο που έρχεται.

Το Card Counter είναι από τις καλύτερες φετινές ταινίες, η καλύτερη του Schrader  από το Light Sleeper. Ο 75χρονος Αμερικανός είναι περισσότερο γνωστός από τη συνεργασία του με τον Martin Scorsese, σαν σεναριογράφος στα Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, The Last Temptation Of Christ και Bringing Out The Dead. H φιλμογραφία του σαν σκηνοθέτης είναι άνιση, με καλύτερη ταινία το American Gigolo.

Το Card Counter είναι αργό φιλμ, βραδυφλεγές όπως και η ερμηνεία του Isaac, η καλύτερη φετινή ανδρική. Ο κεντρικός χαρακτήρας είναι ένα αίνιγμα που ξεδιπλώνεται σιγά σιγά, οδηγώντας σε ένα ζοφερό φινάλε -πανομοιότυπο με αυτά των American Gigolo και Light Sleeper-, κλασικό μοτίβο στα σενάρια του Schrader. Υπάρχει μόνος ένας δρόμος για τη λύτρωση και αυτός είναι καταστροφικός.

O Isaac σιγοβράζει σε όλη την διάρκεια της ταινίας, προσπαθεί να αποφύγει το αναπόφευκτο, να παρεκκλίνει από τους δαίμονες του, σχεδόν αγγίζει την ευτυχία μιας διαφορετικής ζωής. Όμως δεν τα καταφέρνει. Σε μια εξαιρετική ερμηνεία, μετρημένη, χωρίς υπερβολές, ο William Tell είναι από τους πιο ενδιαφέροντες ήρωες του Schrader.

H λιτή σκηνοθεσία, που ξέρει πότε να δώσει έμφαση και πότε να αφήσει την πλοκή ν'αναπνεύσει, χωρίς περιττά πλάνα, μαζί με το καλύτερο φετινό soundtrack, κάνουν το Card Counter να ξεχωρίζει από -άλλη- μια φτωχή χρονιά κινηματογραφικά.

Παρόμοιας υφής και το τελευταίο φιλμ του 91χρονου Clint Eastwood. Χωρίς να είναι η καλύτερη του, το Cry Macho είναι μια τρυφερό road movie, ένα όμορφο ταξίδι. Διάβασα πολλές κακές κριτικές και πικρόχολα σχόλια, κυρίως για την ηλικία του Eastwood. Πως είναι πολύ μεγάλος πλέον για να παίζει, πως πρέπει να αποσυρθεί. Καταλαβαίνω πως κάποιοι ενοχλούνται να βλέπουν τους ήρωες τους να γερνάνε. Ο κινηματογράφος είναι ένα είδος αθανασίας. Και όταν βλέπεις τον Dirty Ηarry και τον Άνθρωπο χωρίς όνομα, δύο από τους πιο εμβληματικούς ήρωες του κινηματογραφικού πάνθεον να ξεθωριάζει, αισθάνεσαι και'συ πως μεγαλώνεις, πως γερνάς.

Όμως θα ήταν αστείο, ο Eastwood στα 90 να προσπαθεί να υποδυθεί τον action hero. Ο χαρακτήρας του στο Cry Macho θα μπορούσε να ήταν ο Harry Callahan ή ο Man With No Name , ένα απόσταγμα και των δύο. Λίγο πριν το τέλος, μια ατάκα του μπορεί να χαρακτηριστεί και ως ο αποχαιρετισμός του, γενικά σαν περσόνα, αλλά και σαν σύμβολο αρρενωπότητας μιας άλλης εποχής. ' This macho thing is overrated. Just people trying to show that they've got grit. That's about all they end up with. It's like anything else in life: you think you got all the answers, then you realize, as you get older, you don't have any of them.'

O Eastwood, o Schrader, o Scorsese, o Copolla, o De Palma, ο Mann, αυτή η γενιά σκηνοθετών φτάνει προς το τέλος. Οι ταινίες τους ήταν, ως επι των πλείστων, αντρικές ιστορίες. Κανείς δεν μπορεί να τους κατηγορήσει για μισογυνισμό, αυτές τις ιστορίες ήθελαν να πουν. Ιστορίες για την αντρική φύση και ψυχολογία. Η εποχή αλλάζει, χρειάζομαστε όλο το φάσμα ιστοριών και χαρακτήρων. Η τέχνη δεν μπορεί ν'αλλάξει τον κόσμο, όμως μπορεί να μας δείξει πως ο κόσμος αλλάζει.

Δυστυχώς σήμερα, κάποιοι ενοχλούνται από τα πάντα, και προσπαθούν να χωρέσουν έναν αιώνα σινεμά στην Προκρούστεια κλίνη των διαστρεβλωμένων πεποιθήσεων τους, χωρίς να αντιλαμβάνονται πόσο κακό κάνουν, πρώτα από όλα στους ίδιους και σε όσα πρεσβεύουν. Ο κινηματογράφος προχωράει, εξελίσσεται. Δεν ξέρω αν γίνεται καλύτερος ή χειρότερος, σίγουρα θα είναι διαφορετικός.

Όσο κι αν προχωράει η τεχνολογία, όσο κι αν αλλάζει ο τρόπος που βλέπουμε ταινίες, αυτό που κάνει τη διαφορά θα είναι πάντα το ίδιο. Ιστορίες που θα μας συγκινήσουν, χαρακτήρες που θα ταυτιστούμε, φιλμ που θα σημαδέψουν την εποχή, θα είναι επιδραστικά και θα εμπνεύσουν. Ο κατακλυσμός προσφοράς έχει κάνει πιο δύσκολο να ξεχωρίσουν οι καλές ταινίες. Ανάμεσα στις προκάτ ταινίες της Disney και τα art house φιλμ που αρέσουν σε φεστιβάλ και κριτικούς, αλλά τις περισσότερες φορές δεν αφορούν κανέναν άλλο, υπάρχουν ιστορίες που ξεχωρίζουν. Ιστορίες όπως του Ταξιτζή, του Jake LaMotta και του Julian Kay.

Κείμενο από την στήλη μου στο mikrofwno.gr

Heartattack and Vine

The city is moody tonight. It's lights spell vague threats, the wind is bleeding all the G-spots of loneliness and despair. The night isn't mine, i feel like a ghost. Tom is blue, been drinking since 18:00.

'Why the long face?'

'The usual stuff.'

'And what else?'

'I'm tired Vic. Tired of waiting, tired of being tired of everything.'

'You're just lonely.'

'For too long. I'm bored, so bored that i miss my ex-wife. I even miss our fights. Can you believe it?'

'That bad huh?'

'Even worse.'

'You should get out, meet new people.'

'What's the point, the world isn't what it used to be. I feel like a relic.'

'You are, but even relics need company.'

'You are such a good friend.'

'And so unappreciated.'

'Ah, I remember those days. When women could be women and didn't have to be men as well.'

'That's the problem with nostalgia, It's not a trustfull source. I assure you, some women still sing, dance and want to have a good time.'

'Yeah, but they call themselves 'Hector' nowadays.'

'You were born with a midlife crisis, you know that?'

'Tell me something I don't know.'

We spend the next hour drinking. Same jokes, same songs, same misery.

' The younger generations are so angry and frustrated because their music sucks.'

'Here we go again.'

'But it's true. What the fuck happened? These kids are walking comas! How the fuck are they even alive, who's telling them to breathe?'

'You are getting bitter, you know that? More than usual.'

'Ah come on man, have you seen them flirt? If you take their phones, they won't know what to do! These girls are brain dead.'

'Someone is jealous.'

'Is this how you pick women up these days? Just a couple of cringey one liners and she's ready to squat on your chops? Fucking hell I had to wine them, dine them, prove I was good enough before even getting tit, nowadays some charmless mouth breather types "you fine imma lick your flaps" and she goes "tee hee ok" and it's on.'

'God's zoo is big, and the fence is low these days.'

'There is no fence.'

'Only offence. Everybody is offended by everything.'

Last drink. Last cigarettes. The dawn is melting every happy thought that keeps me going.

'I envy you, you know that?'

'Why? Because I'm younger, handsome and talented?'

'Because you are in love. I can't remember the feeling. I'm almost certain that it won't happen again. So tell me, how is it?'

'Nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than her. I want to spend the rest my life trying to answer the question of her beauty. I don't care for anything else. She's my last shot on happiness. I thought the world was grey. She's black and white, and all the colors of the rainbow on fire. She's teaching me how to dream. And those dreams are more real and beautiful than ever. Her freedom is her art, and my life a masterpiece unfolding. I'm sorry, I'm getting really sappy.'

Tom's smile was sad. He finished his drink and went to bed.

'Don't let it slip away. Even if it breaks your heart.'

I walked home. Wandering, if it worth the pain, if she feels the same.  I can't sleep. Her abscense lingers in the dark. I need that whisper, that sigh. That look. Those endless nights. When Heaven and Hell are one and the same. And everything else doesn't exist beyond our bed. Pain and ecstasy in abundance, tenderness and a last desperate touch of hope.. Honey, I'm hopeless, I have no future. I'll probably get arrested when I'm in my grave, but I'll be savin' all my love for you.

Body Double (1984)

 

                                This is the magic that a name would stain