#sally menke

[zalrb]

[guillotineman]

[wayne-wallace-edits]

Watching Inglourious Basterds movie directed by Quentin Tarantino edited by the great Sally Menke! I just love this film and could watch it again and again! Bravo!

[my-favourite-zhent]

New Tricks - Chapter 14

Status: Work In Progress Version: 1.01 Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!OC Rating: NC-17 (This chapter R) Genre: Adventure/Romance Summary: Misadventures of Rugan and the original Zhentarim Gate's crew before and during the year of three sailing ships. Notes: Want to say thank you to @rolansrighthorn for beta-reading for me and providing some helpful suggestions, and of course to  @fistfuloftarenths who is of Sally Menke levels of importance when it comes to editing these chapters~ The characterization would not be as consistent without her help! Table of Contents

Read below the cut or on AO3

New Tricks - Chapter Fourteen

Consciousness, if it could be called that, came to Rugan in short bursts. Every memory retained that same watery feel, the edges bleeding into each other. Rolling in and out like waves on the shore.

He felt aware of Olly at his bedside, though all he saw was the lamp light behind his eyelids. 

‘Chin up, Olly.’ He tried to say but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

Muffled voices, arguing amongst the lads. Bellar grumbling, Sal scolding, Olly pleading. He couldn't make out the words.

The next ebb seemed sharper, clearer. 

“You were just going to leave him here alone like this?” A woman's voice this time, familiar, though he couldn't yet place it.

“...I'll stay with him.” He tried to remember, there was a thread there that tugged at him and he felt he was so close to knowing.

A hand squeezing his own, it was soft and cool to the touch and then just as quickly it was gone. He wanted to reach out for it but the tide was going out again.

It seemed brighter now and there was a cool breeze against his cheek.

“Rugan, do you know what a lucky bastard you are?” 

He didn't feel lucky, he felt like he was being jostled about like a sack of flour. Everything smelled of ox shit.

The memories were mostly dark and silent after that, but there were other sensations. The feel of a metal spoon pressed against his lips, warm broth on his tongue, richer than any he remembered tasting before. A cool cloth pressed to his forehead, slick fingertips smoothing over his chest and throat mingling with the scent of cedarwood and peppermint oils. 

There was a bitter broth the next time, but a gentle voice bade him drink and he relented without any hesitation.

This time when he slipped under there was not that familiar inky blackness but instead a staccato of noise. Was that Brem’s laughter? Bellar?

“It's your hand Rugan.” Tamlyn was seated across from him at a round wooden table. They were a quartet, the other two players were at his sides and yet somehow obscured from his vision. He looked down at his cards, four through nine of hearts.

“Flush of hearts, lucky me.” He laid them down on the table.

“Not so lucky as me. Royal flush of blades.” She laid down her cards and the swords seemed to shine under the lamp light. 

When Rugan looked down at his cards he saw that the hearts were more articulated than before. They seemed to pulse and beat, blood dripping down them.

His eyes darted back and Tamlyn’s blades now each had blood running down from tip to hilt. He looked up and there was a hot red line across her throat from which blood began to seep.

Rugan jumped back from the table, knocking it to the ground. 

The right player turned to him, suddenly clear and illuminated, Izzy.

“You killed her with kindness.” Izzy's voice had a strange timber to it, it was polite but not kind.

“Will I kill you with kindness?” It was Olly on the left, drenched by the rain, lips purple from the cold.

He stumbled back and fell, when he rose to his feet he was in water, a river perhaps? But he could see neither shore in all the blinding fog. It came up to his knees and he was shivering from the cold, his back was slick. 

A small skiff approached and Sal stood at its prow, hand extended.

“I can take you to the other side, do it for say fifty tarenths.”

“The other side?”

“You know, the one we don't come back from.”

“I'm fine, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Sal had already put his pole into the water and began pushing off. “but you'll have to wait a while for the next one, watch out for the sirens.”

“Sirens?” But Sal had already disappeared into that blinding mist.

“He's exaggerating.” It was Izzy at his side, but he hadn't heard her approach.

“How did you get here Iz?”

“I came with the rain.” She pointed up.

He looked but saw nothing but blinding white, when he looked back again she was gone. In fact the entire river was gone, replaced with rolling grasslands, yet it was still too damned bright.

“We can give you a ride to the next town.” It was Zarys astride a horse.

“Cost you an arm and a leg though.” Bellar was grinning wickedly, having pulled up beside her on his own steed. In one hand he did have the bloodied arm of some poor sap, and he wiggled it for emphasis.

“Same old story.” He muttered in response.

“Rugan?”

Izzy again in that green flowing dress. She was smearing something on his forehead, charcoal? Where had she come from? The walls of the tower office felt so claustrophobic, hadn't he remembered this place as being large? 

His own hand wrapped around her wrist in an instant.

“Didn't I tell you before this place was off limits?” He asked, growing frustrated with her constant intrusions.

“Did you?”

“Why are you haunting me, Iz?” He demanded.

+++++

“Why are you haunting me, Iz?” It came out as little more than a whisper, his voice straining from disuse.

“I'm not haunting you, Zhent. You're ill.” Izzy moved from her chair to sit on the bed beside him, reaching out with her free hand to brush back the hair from his temples. She felt such relief at the sound of his voice, even hoarse as it was.

“I’m dreaming.” He murmured.

“You probably were, you’ve been asleep for a few days now.” But he was already slipping back under.

+++++

When next he woke there was sunlight streaming in past the thin white curtains. This seemed less chaotic, more grounded than the memories that came before, yet the place was so unfamiliar to him he wasn’t sure if he truly was awake. 

The room was bright and clean, the ceilings were high and the windows narrow. He tried to sit up and it felt as if his body was weighted down. He groaned, muscles straining, he was able to get himself upright but already felt exhausted from the effort.

He heard the rustling of fabric to his left and looked over the edge of the bed. There on the floor was a small woman in a bedroll.

He watched her stir and look up at him bleary eyed. Her hair was a tangled mess, dark circles hung under her eyes and it looked as if she had slept in her clothes. In short, she was gorgeous.

“Iz.” His voice little more than a hoarse whisper. 

“Hey, you're awake.” Izzy smiled at him, she looked relieved.

“Where–?” His question was cut off by a cluster of coughs that racked his body. Izzy scrambled to his side and smoothed her hand over his back until the fit subsided. She handed him a glass of water from the bedside table and he drank greedily. 

“We’re in Crimmor, the boys said you fell ill on the mountain pass.”

When he was done she took the cup and pressed her hand to his forehead, frowning slightly.

“Your fever’s returning. I’ll brew you some more tea.” She propped up the pillows behind him and helped him to lean back against them. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He wanted to ask her to stay but found he didn't have the strength for it, already his eyelids felt like lead. Rugan rested them for what seemed like only an instant but when he opened them next Izzy had already returned, pressing a hot mug to his lips.

It was bitter and he made a face when she pulled the empty mug away. “Lass, that is not a proper brew.”

He heard her tinkling laughter and smiled as he closed his eyes once more.

+++++

Over the course of the next day Rugan's condition began to improve, and with that came longer bouts of lucidity. 

While his newfound clarity boded well for his health it did not help at all with how he physically felt. 

Now he was aware of every ache the fever provided, his whole body felt sore and misused. The coughs were equally bad. They racked the whole of him when they came on and often were accompanied with the expulsion of sickly green bile. Izzy was always there with a cup of water and handkerchief, a gentle hand on his back. But her pitying looks grated on him, they reminded him of Olly in Daggerford. After the tenth or so time he found himself snapping at her. 

“Gods’ sake woman stop mothering me.”

She had flinched at this, but he had pretended not to see.

And that was another thing. What in the hells was she doing here of all places? Hadn't he worked to banish her twice already. First her memories then her damned letter. Now here she was, in the flesh, still her sweet self. Doting on him as if she had nothing better to do. When she sat next to him he would catch a whiff of her hair. She smelled like soap and hazelnuts and cherries. Rugan found himself alternating between wanting to pull her into a tight embrace or sending her back to whatever hell she came from.

“Where are the lads then? Haven't seen them yet.” He asked between mouthfuls of dinner that night.

“They went on ahead to Athkatla.”

“Happy to leave me for dead were they? Suppose it's only sensible.”

“That's not so, they were going to wait two days then pool their coin to put you up at an inn. I volunteered to look after you instead.”

“Don’t have anything better to do Iz?” He scoffed.

“Not when the ground’s frozen over, no.” She teased.

“Needn’t have bothered.”

“Would you rather some tavern wench ran off with your coin purse?”

“Surprised Bellar didn’t do that himself.”

“He took my ring as collateral so there’s that.”

He had forgotten about the ring and felt a rush of guilt. If Izzy was upset by that, it didn't show.

Izzy looked at her hands pensively. “Olly was really worried about you, you know.”

“Lad's soft heartedness is the whole reason I'm in this mess.” He didn't bother to hide his frustration.

“He meant well.”

“With all due respect, lass, his little crisis of conscience nearly got the both of us killed.”

“Just don't be too hard on him when you see him next, please.”

“I don't need you telling me how to do my job.” Rugan snapped. The way she recoiled at that stung but he held firm, there had been more than enough weakness for one run already.

His point was somewhat undercut by a series of coughs that doubled him over. When he had gotten hold of himself he noticed Izzy fidgeting, trying to restrain herself from the coddling he so detested. At least he had told her that he detested it.

‘Just as bad as Olly she is.’

In an effort to maintain some of his dignity he rose from the bed and poured himself a cup of water from a pitcher set on the nightstand. His eyes met hers over the top of his glass, as if daring her to chide him for getting out of bed. She didn’t take the bait, though she looked at him appraisingly.

“If you’re well enough to stand, then here, hold out your arms, and straighten your shoulders.”

“What for?” He looked at her curiously but obeyed.

Izzy took out a loose bit of string from her pocket and pinned it between his shoulder blades with one hand while pulling it taught to his wrist with the other. She repeated this strange gesture with his back and shoulders before scratching something down in a notebook.

“What was that about Iz?” He asked again.

“Not telling, you'll just give me a hard time about it.” She blew the loose dust off the charcoal before clapping the book shut and tucking it into her pocket.

He snorted. She had been the one fussing over every little thing, but fine he wouldn’t push the matter.

+++++

Another repercussion of his prolonged bouts of consciousness was that he had begun to take better note of his surroundings.

The walls were clean and plastered, with raised wooden side panels topped with smooth chair rails. There were also brass wall sconces and an impressive looking fireplace against the far wall. Next to the fireplace were a pair of plush looking chairs and a small tea table. It wasn’t extravagant and gaudy like the homes of patriars he had seen, but it was more that he could have ever hoped to afford in a lifetime.

The following day he made a mental note to ask Izzy about it when she next appeared and did so. She had come again with a cup of the bitter tea. Sitting down on the bed beside him she held it out.

“Here.”

He accepted it with both hands and drank it down quickly to get it over with. Still his face winced with distaste and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Iz, be honest.”

“Hmm?”

“You are a bleeding noble aren't you?”

“What?” She looked utterly baffled.

“There’s no way you can afford to stay at this inn on just digging up dead people’s trinkets.”

“Oh, gods the house.” She laughed.

House? For some reason that struck him as worse than an expensive inn.

“No this isn't mine Rugan, my friend from school is putting us up.”

“School? You didn’t make out like you’d properly attended.”

“Only for the first year, couldn’t afford to after that.” She looked away sheepishly and busied herself with the hem of her shirt.

“Ah, I'm much the same, only did a couple of years at the temple school before I was put to work. Your writings rather nice though for only the one year, can barely do more than chicken scratch m’self.”

“You got my letter.” She was smiling at him now and he tried to push down the warmth he felt at that.

“Aye, was a kindness for you to bother, my thanks.”

“I didn't learn writing from school though, my dad taught me. You’ve him to thank.”

“Suppose that saved a coin or two.”

“Well I didn't go to temple school at all. We were moving around too much, my parents and I that is. So they just taught me reading and writing and what have you on the road. I just did the one year of university well after they’d died.”

“University?! That’s a sight better than you let on Iz.”

“Oh, they don’t really teach dead languages anywhere else. Not unless you're high up in some clergy or another. Thought it might be nice to have classmates for once too. What about you? What was temple school like?”

“You don't need to humour me Iz, sophisticated lady like yourself.” He huffed.

“I'm not! I didn't have anyone my own age to play with growing up, always thought it must be nice to have peers you see every day.”

“Doubt the lil bastards I used to knock about with would've met your standards.”

“Wish my standards were as high as you seem to think.” She snapped.

They both sat stewing till a rap came at the door.

Izzy let out a sigh of frustration. “That'll be your bath.”

“Don't need a bath.” He wasn't sure he had the strength to climb into a tub.

“Oh didn't realize we'd been housing an ox in here with you, that would explain the smell.”

“Well I certainly don't need your help with it.”

She was getting to her feet now. “Did you think it was Bellar sponging your bits while you were busy being unconscious?!”

His face felt hot with embarrassment but he couldn't back down. “And just how exactly would you manage to get me in the tub, lass?”

“Unlike you, I haven't suddenly developed an aversion to accepting help when needed.” She had stomped over to the door and now threw it open.

A frightened servant stood on the other side, he couldn't have been much older than Olly.

“Gregor if you're still willing to help me with this surly bastard I would very much appreciate it.”

“Yes saer.” Came the timid response and Rugan wished that the fever had just killed him outright.

+++++

Rugan had traded stewing in the bed for stewing in the tub. He sat arms crossed, piping hot water up to his shoulders.

Like the bedroom, the bathing room was luxurious without ostentation. The floor was composed of simple stone tiles, these continued halfway up the wall and were topped with a black stone trim. The floor slightly sloped to the center where a drain was ready to accept any spills. There was a faucet fixture on the wall nearest the tub with runes on either side that allowed for the adjustment of the water temperature. Everything was practical without a hint of excess and that aggravated him all the more. At least he could make fun of the frivolity of patriars.

Izzy was sitting on a stool behind the tub, her fingers slowly working the shampoo into his scalp. This should've been nice, after all when had he last enjoyed a hot bath? This would've been nice if he hadn't felt like some aging invalid that needed a wet behind the ears pup to help him into a damned tub. He had at least been able to scrub himself clean. He could've done the hair himself too, but Izzy had asked so nicely and he did feel some small bit of remorse for how he had treated her. 

Obliquely he watched her reflection in the mirror, gauging her expression, Izzy seemed to be enjoying herself at least. She dragged her nails lightly over his undercut, eliciting a sigh of approval. He could see the corners of her mouth quirk up in a smile.

“We could take the boat down to Athkatla when you're feeling well enough,” She suggested as her fingers trailed down his neck to his shoulders. “it's much faster than a caravan. Might even be able to make that job.”

“Cost half my coin too I'll bet. Bane knows how much of my wages Zarys will cut when she finds out I've been out near a tenday.”

“Zarys?”

“My boss back in the Gate, black-hearted vixen, that one.”

“I can pay for the boat.”

“Just flush with it aren't you lass?” And despite his best efforts he couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice.

“Work’s better in the summer but since Corra lets me winter here with her I can save on room and board, that's all.”

“Don't know why you bothered slumming with us Zhents in Waterdeep if you could come home to this.”

“It's not my home.” She said, soft but firm. “And I don't recall you ever bringing me to a slum.”

“Usually save that for the fourth date.”

Instantly her hands were gone from him and she was stalking over to the other side of the tub, filling a bucket from the faucet.

When she returned she dumped it over his head without warning. Rugan shouted and spluttered as the ice cold water crashed down about his face. 

“There,” She said, glowering at him. “you’re all rinsed.”

“What the hells woman?!”

But she was already throwing open the door to speak to the servant from earlier.

“Gregor, he's ready to be taken back to his room now. If you can manage on your own.”

When the boy answered in the affirmative she stalked off on her own.

[editingmodulations]

“In magic, it is more interactive than most other forms. It’s very hard to do magic for yourself, very hard to do that. So, you need feedback. And the one thing you learn in magic, although the props change and although the methods change, you start to develop an intuition for what the audience will be thinking, what they will be paying attention to. But no matter how good your intuition gets, having other people give you feedback is really good.”

Magic, much like film editing, requires the audience to trust you even though, as in a magic trick, the magician/filmmaker is often an ‘unreliable narrator’ – telling us things are true and reliable when they are anything but. Much like Verbal Kint in The Usual Suspects who tells us that “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.“ - Johnny Elwyn, Magic, Movies, and the Art of Film Editing

Editing in Death Proof

To get the “grindhouse” effect that Tarantino wanted he utilized many techniques. First he got the physical copy of the film and physically scratched it all over the place to give the film a grainy feeling. Then he, in grindhouse fashion, spliced scenes out of the film harshly and without warning. The decision to do these things added to the aesthetic of film and gave it a distinctive feel.

The film was edited by the masterful film editor Sally Menke.

[byneddiedingo]

Uma Thurman and John Travolta in Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) Cast: Tim Roth, Amanda Plummer, John Travolta, Samuel L. Jackson, Bruce Willis, Ving Rhames, Uma Thurman, Christopher Walken, Maria de Medeiros, Harvey Keitel, Whaley, Rosanna Arquette, Eric Stoltz. Screenplay: Quentin Tarantino, Roger Avary. Cinematography: Andrzej Sekula. Production design: David Wasco. Film editing: Sally Menke. Watching Pulp Fiction again -- I don't know how many times I've seen it but it feels like a lot -- I'm struck by how much the film is about language. In a way that's appropriate, given that it was nominated for seven Oscars but won only for the screenplay by Tarantino and Roger Avary. And certainly language comes to the fore in the way the film tramples on taboos like the f-word and the n-word, which are repeated so often that you're numbed to the expected shock. And then there's the great biblical tirade by Jules (Samuel L. Jackson), extrapolated from a passage in Ezekiel and repeated three times to make sure we get the point that Jules is some kind of prophet. And of course there's the familiar pronouncement by Vincent (John Travolta) that the French call a quarter-pounder with cheese a Royale with cheese. But throughout the film characters encounter semantic problems, as when Jules asks Brett (Frank Whaley) what country he's from. The puzzled Brett asks, "What?" thereby provoking Jules's response, "'What' ain't no country I've ever heard of. They speak English in What?" Or when Esmeralda (Angela Jones) asks Butch (Bruce Willis) what his name means, and Butch replies, "I'm American, honey. Our names don't mean shit." Or when Pumpkin (Tim Roth) calls out, "Garçon! Coffee!" and the waitress (Laura Lovelace) corrects him: "'Garçon' means boy." Pumpkin and Honey Bunny (Amanda Plummer) have even decided to give up robbing liquor stores because they're owned by "too many foreigners [who] don't speak fucking English."  For Pulp Fiction's characters language is a means of establishing dominance, as when Winston Wolfe (Harvey Keitel) refuses Vincent's request to say "please" when he's giving orders. It's also a way of establishing intimacy: When Vincent brings Mia (Uma Thurman) home after she has overdosed, she finally tells him the silly joke -- a pun on catch up/ketchup -- that she refused to tell him earlier. So maybe Pulp Fiction isn't exactly about language -- it's also about violence and God and a lot of other things -- but I don't know of many other films that are so memorable because of it.

[mmmmalo]

Cast and crew of Inglourious Basterds saying hi to Sally Menke, the film’s editor

[cognito-ergo-hazard]

also re: that last post, it's once again time for this image...

[ID: "edited by Sally Menke" in black on yellow in the Kill Bill font]

[wintercorrybriea]

need a Roger Avery and Sally Menke in my life

[pankary]

óscar 2024

me gusta el cine. tb me gusta el canon. muchas personas odian el óscar, pero cualquier persona remotamente interesada en cine habla de él. es innegable. es el canon. personalmente, sí me gusta, aunque hay que añadir una nota al pie: nadie ni nada es perfecto. el año pasado fue la edición más imperfecta que he visto. pero la del año anterior a ese no estuvo mala. generalmente lo hacen bien. ningún premio -más allá de mejor actriz de reparto 2023- es completamente inmerecido. y, sobre todo, es una forma excelente de conocer películas nuevas. que vivan el cine, el óscar y el canon. mis ideas al respecto:

mejor edición

una película bien editada es una mejor película que una mal editada. esto es tautológico y probablemente estúpido de decir. pero no estoy tratando de explicar algo. más bien: quiero poner énfasis. sally menke editó todas las películas de tarantino hasta que murió. creo firmemente que ese es único de los motivos principales -si no el principal- por el que django es abismalmente más baja que todas las películas previas de este director. pulp fiction es la película mejor editada en la que puedo pensar en este momento. creo firmemente también que ese es el motivo por el que es la mejor película de tarantino. en fin. where the fuck is tarantino en el óscar 2024? por qué estoy hablando de esto? btw tengo que corregirme: las películas mejor editadas en las que puedo pensar en este momento son el padrino 1 y tb la 2. ups. en fin... creo que el punto ha sido ilustrado. sorry. vamos:

las películas nominadas acá están todas bien editadas y eso les da filo. mi top 3: 3. oppenheimer 2. killers of the flower moon 1. poor things

best costume design

si el premio fuera "most iconic costume design" el premio tendría que ser para barbie. le pusieron la ropa de las muñecas a las actrices. wtf? denles el premio. pero... de eso no se trata. así que creo que también se lo merece poor things. buenos vestidos de bella baxter. que se lo den a cualquiera de las dos

best makeup and hairstyling

si le dan el premio a maestro voy a apagar la tele. que se lo den a poor things. aunque no vi golda ni la sociedad de la nieve, esta última porque me mantengo lo más lejos del canibalismo que pueda (aunque estoy seguro de que la ropita debe ser bien bacán, no lo dudo)

best cinematography

no vi el conde pero si las otras y si yo fuera la academia le daría el premio a oppenheimer. poor things también notable pero oppenheimer me parece mejor. además de que grabaron todo de la manera más necia posible, increíble

best production design

se acabaron todo el rosado del mundo... barbie land... igual poor things está por ahí, una vez más. cualquiera de las dos. no vi napoleon

best sound

si no le dan el premio a the zone of interest tb apago la tele. csm... ojalá no tenga que apagar la tele. el sonido en oppenheimer tb estuvo bueno pero no hay punto de comparación. me cuesta pensar en películas en las que el sonido haya sido tan crucial como esta. podría ir al cine a verla con una venda en los ojos, solo escuchando, e igual sentiría muchas cosas y sería una gran experiencia

best original song

the man behind the tan... no voy a apagar la tele si no se la dan pero creo que se lo merece más que la otra que escuché, que es la otra de barbie. también escuché la de killers of the flower moon xq vi la película pero cuál será?? ni me acuerdo. no me gustó la música en esa película. en fin. no escuché las canciones de las otras dos películas porque no las vi. nota al pie: el mejor track (i don't know if it's a song) que escuché en una película este año fue can you hear the music en oppenheimer. además: suena en una gran escena, una de las mejores de la película. le daría el óscar a esa. alright...

best original score

el score de poor things es el mejor. en segundo puesto oppenheimer. no vi indiana jones. por qué está american fiction nominada aquí? mejor: por qué está american fiction nominada a cualquier cosa?

---(no vi ningún documental ni ningún corto ni ninguna película animada así que saltiemos...)---

best international feature film

no vi todas. lo siento. le he fallado al decolonialismo. no me importa tanto, en verdad. mi película favorita nominada aquí fue perfect days, a la que le pongo 10/10 y la amo y se la quiero recomendar a todo el mundo. esta película me dijo algo muy importante sobre la vida y la voy a atesorar por siempre. fue muy linda. the zone of interest me pareció excelente. por qué no está anatomía de una caída aquí?? wtf

mejor guion adaptado

no entiendo cómo funciona este premio. tienes que haber leído el material original para juzgar cómo hicieron el traslado de libro a película? o solo te basas en el guion? no conozco el material original de ninguna así que haré lo segundo. poor things. sin duda

mejor guion original

i liked you for who you are; and who you are is a person who leaves. but for him, you're the person who stays

mejor actriz de reparto

qué se reparten las actrices de reparto? no vi nyad ni the color purple y las otras actuaciones no me parecieron particularmente buenas así que voy a hacer algo muy impopular y decir que se lo merece emily blunt por lo heavy que debe haber sido estar grabando esa película tan larga y pesada. además de que sí tuvo un par de escenas genuinamente buenas

mejor actor de reparto

he's more than kenough

mejor actriz

esta sí que es una categoría cargada. no vi nyad pero a estas alturas fuck that shit. las otras cuatro sí las vi y me parece que todas lo hicieron excelente. carey mulligan me pareció lo único bueno (y además fue muy notable) de una película telaza. sandra huller tenía un rol complicadísimo y la performance es como si te clavaran un cuchillo. lily gladstone hizo un personaje icónico and she will always be famous. pero emma... se pasó... cómo haces eso... hay unos cinco segundos hacia el comienzo de la película en la que vemos un primer plano de victoria blessington (más adelante bella baxter) contemplando el suicidio:

cuántas personas pueden comunicar tanto con solo una mirada? cuando los hechos se revelan más adelante, la escena se vuelve más poderosa todavía: aprendemos sobre la coerción, el dolor, la frustración, la desesperación, todo lo que condujo a este momento. esta mirada surge de aquello contra lo que la película lucha, y es el eje sobre el cual gira la verdadera misión -privada, en cuanto quiere vengar a su madre y controlar su propia vida, y pública, en cuanto busca un mundo más justo y libre para todxs- de la protagonista. todos los puntos de tensión de la película están resumidos en esta mirada. y, por supuesto, después tenemos dos horas más de emma stone interpretando a otro personaje y sobre eso ya se ha dicho suficiente. denle el premio de una vez carajo

mejor actor

oppenheimer es una película que dura 180 minutos y según mis cálculos cillian murphy aparece en 179 de ellos. qué tal chambaza. no solo es excelente sino que los otros fueron medio malos - o, en el mejor de los casos, buenos pero no excelentes. creo que no tengo que explicar quién es quién aquí. para aclarar: no vi rustin... pero... wtf is even that?

mejor director

este es mi premio favorito en el óscar junto a The Big One y a mejor actriz. usualmente las películas nominadas aquí son las que más me gustan. me parece que las cinco son excelentes. y son tan excelentes que el outrage por no tener a greta acá está, en mi humilde opinión, injustificado. estas cinco personas hicieron una chamba notable. mi ranking: 5. scorsese 4. nolan 3. glazer 2. triet 1. lanthimos. me parece que en poor things la variedad de particularidades contribuyen a algo más redondo y logrado. pero es mi opinión. de nuevo: los cinco excelentes y cualquiera se lo merece - fácil scorsese un poco menos pero cómo no quererlo?

mejor película

no entendí por qué están algunas películas aquí y no perfect days. qué fue? como dije hace un buen rato ya: nadie es perfecto. aquí el ranking con breve comentario:

10. maestro. telaza csm... no hay drama. en the zone of interest tampoco hay drama pero ahí fue a propósito. aquí, simplemente, no supieron de dónde sacarlo. pero lo peor es que para que se trate de una película sobre un DIRECTOR DE ORQUESTA, se habla poco o nada sobre la música. ninguna reflexión sobre el arte, nada. la música solo es algo que pasa y ya. por más de que bradley cooper ame irracionalmente a bernstein, creo que él no era la persona indicada para hacer esta película.

09. american fiction. en los primeros 20 segundos de esta película pensé: wow, qué astuta, esta película me va a gustar. cuando acabó dije: qué oportunidad desperdiciada carajo. de qué trata realmente? por qué es tan malo el final? creo que no supieron qué hacer con lo que tenían en las manos. lo mejor: el soundtrack (pero no el original, sino los needle drops a lo largo de la película)

08. the holdovers. ahora sí entramos al terreno de Películas Buenas. esta es una película webera. navideña. la puedes ver con tus primxs en navidad, lo cual la pone en el mismo saco que huevadas tipo e.t. o mi pobre angelito. es linda y está bien hecha y las actuaciones son buenas. nada más que decir...

07. killers of the flower moon. scorsese... q más puedo decir... gran experiencia cinematográfica... 3 horas y media en la sala imax, gracias por tanto... ahora sí con el corazón en la mano: lily gladstone es brillante, de lejos lo mejor de la película, te amo lily gladstone, solo te deseo éxitos en tu vida

06. the zone of interest. una de las películas más Interesantes de esta temporada... el sonido... wow... increíble. ya dije lo q pienso sobre el sonido en esta película hace un rato. qué gran experiencia. aparece el título, luego desaparece y te quedas con esa música -- yo nunca había escuchado algo así en mi vida

05. barbie. icónica. cuando la fui a ver -le metí el barbenheimer ese día, gran día, que viva el cine- lloré de la emoción en la primera escena. estuve esperando esta película desde que la anunciaron... desde que vi el primer video de margot robbie y ryan gosling grabando esa escena en patines... omg.. en retrospectiva fue un poco decepcionante porque siento que el guion y la dirección pudieron ser un poco mejores. pero qué gran película. margot robbie... un ícono. lo hizo increíble. cuando barbie lloraba yo también lloraba. me hizo feliz esta película

04. oppenheimer. wow... se pasó nolan. 3 horas de pura gloria. hay escenas realmente notables en esta película. se ve excelente, suena mejor. el tema no es de mi particular interés pero le dieron lo que necesitaba e hicieron algo extraordinario. Buena Película

03. anatomía de una caída. este es el tipo de película que me hace pensar: que viva el arte. realmente lo hizo? lo mató?? importa??? qué es la verdad? cómo elegimos en qué creer? en lo que creemos y lo que hacemos puede ser contradictorio? el rollo más clásico del arte es que el Verdadero Arte es Bueno cuando genera este tipo de preguntas. esta película lo hace. chambaza. un clásico. la vamos a seguir viendo por mucho tiempo

02. poor things. pura gloria. espectacular actuación. gran soundtrack. harta personalidad. final satisfactorio. emancipación. comunismo. todas las cosas buenas. no hay error. fenomenal

01. past lives. soy sensible. las historias de amor imposibles son mi punto débil. quizás no sea La Mejor Película pero quiero darle el premio por el amor que le tengo. una linda película. ahora hablando con más propiedad... el guion es excelente, las actuaciones tb. y la película hace muy bien lo siguiente: mostrar la vida de la gente. entrar y salir del depa, coger las llaves, estar sentado en el bar, tomarse una foto con la atracción turística, despedirte del amor de tu past life. es la Vida, y eso para mí es importante en el arte. ninguna película me movió tanto este año. entra al podio con mis demás favoritas que tocan nervio de manera similar: la la land, lost in translation, portrait of a lady on fire... filin.

creo que podrían pasar tres cosas bacanes en relación a este premio. una: que se lo den a past lives (no va a pasar). otra: que el óscar haga un 180 y se lo de a barbie, que, por lo menos en cuanto a números y por lo icónica que es, se lo merece. y la tercera sería que se lo den a cualquiera de las que están en mi top 7 (o incluso top 8). estuvieron buenas las películas esta temporada. esta es una de mis épocas favoritas del año. una vez más: que vivan el cine y el óscar. y tb emma stone y lily gladstone. y celine song. hasta la próxima... gracias x leer

[guillotineman]

Inglourious Basterds (2009, dir. Quentin Tarantino)

[andresitofilms]

95. Django: Unchained - Quentin Tarantino

Brindando un homenaje a las películas de western, Tarantino nos presenta esta obra, sobre un esclavo recién liberado que acompaña a un cazarrecompensas y emprende la búsqueda de su esposa, que fue vendida después de que intentaran escapar.

La dirección me parece muy bien realizada, logra captar esos paisajes del western de maneras muy bellas, las escenas de disparos y de acción están muy bien dirigidas y todo se ve muy bien.  Algo a notar es que esta es la primera película de Tarantino que Sally Menke no editó (por razones naturales), y es una lástima, porque su participación sí le da fuerza a las anteriores películas del director. Nada más que respeto para ella.

Quentin es conocido por su estilo muy único: la violencia gráfica, el uso (casi) indiscriminado de lenguaje soez y “ofensivo”, pero especialmente su narrativa poco convencional/no lineal, y eso es algo que faltó en esta. Eso afecta principalmente la primera mitad del film, porque su ritmo se siente algo apresurado y lo mejor de la peli pasa como después de la primera hora.

La historia es bastante sólida, tiene un subtexto de historia romántica y de rescate, con obstáculos fuertes, todo debajo de una historia de cazarrecompensas antiesclavitud. Leo DiCaprio, Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz y Samuel L. Jackson dan actuaciones estelares, y las demás estuvieron bastante bien.

En fin, aunque no me encanta mucho su estilo, Quentin Tarantino es un director digno de apreciar, y la forma en la que lleva este film me parece precisa.

[acarterfilmfestivals2022]

Tarantino & Sally Menke

[byneddiedingo]

Pam Grier and Robert Forster in Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino, 1997)

Cast: Pam Grier, Samuel L. Jackson, Robert Forster, Bridget Fonda, Michael Keaton, Robert De Niro, Michael Bowen, Chris Tucker, LisaGay Hamilton. Screenplay: Quentin Tarantino, based on a novel by Elmore Leonard. Cinematography: Guillermo Navarro. Production design: David Wasco. Film editing: Sally Menke.  Sometimes called "the Tarantino movie for people who don't like Tarantino movies," Jackie Brown feels a bit like Tarantino under the influence of Martin Scorsese. That's not just because of the presence of Robert De Niro in the cast, but also because it's the Tarantino film that feels most under control, with its long takes and following shots. It's also the first Tarantino movie adapted from other material, in this case the novel Rum Punch by Elmore Leonard, which imposes a certain rhythm on the material, unlike Tarantino's usual jazzy riffs and variations. On the other hand, any time that Samuel L. Jackson (who is to Tarantino what De Niro used to be to Scorsese) is on screen, you can feel the obvious synergy between director and star. The real star, however, is Pam Grier, whose Jackie Brown is a force of nature, proud and statuesque, like Sophia Loren or Anna Magnani in their prime. Delivering her lines out of the side of her mouth, she's clearly in control even when things seem to be going against her. She's well-matched with Robert Forster's wearily implacable Max Cherry, a bail bondsman who can't help getting too involved with his clients. It's clear from the outset that Jackie and Max have what it takes to triumph just by sheer persistence over Jackson's flamboyant Ordell Robbie, not to mention his somewhat too stoned accomplices, Louis (De Niro) and Melanie (Bridget Fonda), and the wiseass ATF agent Ray Nicolette (Michael Keaton). The pleasure of the film consists largely in watching this gallery of top-notch actors go through the paces of the plot.

[pynkhues]

For the movie game. Kill bill.

Kill Bill

never seen | want to see | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece

Lucy Liu and Uma Thurman, my beloveds. All of Quentin Tarantino's best movies were edited by Sally Menke, and I don't think it's a coincidence that the quality has drastically dropped off since her tragic death. I think she was one of the best editors of our generation, and Kill Bill is really a showcase of her talent in so many ways. I really feel the loss of her in the industry.

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