Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Do I Need Antibiotics For My Cough



There is a bit 'rusty on the old blue railings that surround the gazebo of a beach. They have repainted two years ago, but the salt is already ruining it again. At the end of August, in a small seaside town, families are always with the boys to spend a few days off, waiting for schools reinitiate. Rent an umbrella and some chairs and hope the last summer sun. An attendant dressed in red, with toenails much small, is sitting on the bank to monitor the swimmers, while some ladies will bring their books and are on the cliff with the feet in water. They talk about children and to cook meals, schools and bedrooms. That day is very hot. There is a man of fifty, tall, very thin and with a mustache, has a warm smile, loves classical music, the sweet licorice and never puts the gloves, even in winter. He works year-round in a bank, they send him from town to town to check accounts and ATM. Take planes, trains, buses, driving his car for hours, but can not ride a bicycle: he never had one, when he was little his family was very poor, he went out to play with his few friends in the streets of an ancient city where there were lots of cats, then asked the tea-time mother from under the balcony bread and tomato. And the mother prepared them and put them in a paper bag, on which the oil was dark spots appear but fragrant when he went out to the balcony, had a blue robe and he was still down there waiting. Waiting for her. Now, in this small seaside town, this man enjoys an ice cream under the parasol, eats voraciously, as he always does. He finished reading the newspaper, does not see his wife and child. But it looks better on the rocks, his wife is talking with a friend, leans against a cushion inflatable to float in water. He hears the echo of their speeches, but does not distinguish the words. It feels comfortable. The child is the gazebo, where some games and a pinball machine in front of some tables in white plastic are the main attraction. Next to the gazebo is a small bar with a terrace where the owners of the beach serving cool drinks or coffee with cream. Every morning a nice man in that bar with the blue raincoat comes, order and sit by the window. Sometimes it looks, sometimes, still seated, writing on the back of some colorful flyers. Comes to the beach even when it is hot, but no one ever asks why you wear a raincoat. The father thinks his son under an umbrella, think that not passing a lot of time with him during the year sees him only at weekends, which does not always know what to do, what do you think, as it grows. He touches the gazebo. The baby has just finished a game of pinball, is not very good, often note that some of his friends can make more points, he loses immediately. Now these friends went for a swim, but he does not want to be with them. Sometimes tease him, then he feels safer in the gazebo, he noticed the man with the funny blue raincoat, but does not want to disturb him, although he's pleased that there is. The father arrives to see him smiling awkwardly play with the flippers. He wants to make a game too, never played the game, it would be nice to be with a child, but left the money under the umbrella. The son turns to his father, he understands that like to play with him but does not know how to tell him that no more coins. Would it be a lost opportunity, that his father had never come to see him play, that would not have already used up all the coins. "Ah, have you finished?" Said the father, not hide a slight disappointment. "Yes." Pause. "Sorry." Some tears of bitterness through it internally. The father smiled: "You have taken a bath? Come to Mama? ". And the boy followed his father smiled, but thought that would have given anything to have another currency, at the time. I can see it in my face, because I was in that gazebo. And I've seen everything.

4 And A Tape Up Haircut

Palermo Shooting (Wim Wenders)

His last film, Wim Wenders decided to go and turn in Palermo, recalling with great style corners, markets, courtyards, bustling squares, the cries of the people. "Palermo Shooting" is a very strange and evocative, full of literary and philosophical ideas, whose mystery he can not escape those who know this director. It 's the story of a German artist, master of design, which enjoys great success at home (among other things is the official photographer of Milla Jovovich, who appears in the role in the film itself), but they feel empty inside himself. The World frivolous for the jet set, the inconsistency of his adventures of Don Juan, a tendency to melancholy and loneliness led him to embark on an experience, initially working in Palermo. But beyond the allure of the Sicilian city would keep him here is a chain of mysterious encounters with a man hooded and dressed all in white, who surprises him with darts at the end of which only understand the meaning: "death is an arrow from future, "it says this ghost-faced Dennis Hopper, when she meets the hero in an old library similar to the prisons of Piranesi. In fact, the designer and photographer, among the crowded streets of Palermo, had surprised the death once with the camera, then with the dodged a camera after his arrow. Flavia, played by Giovanna Mezzogiorno a restorer who is working for two years just to an ancient fresco representing the death, and the only one to believe his ravings, the photographer accompanying hooded man on the street. The final dialogue with Death, who turns out later to be more valuable than you think, takes a modern twist, "The Seventh Seal Bergman, while the figure of the traveler in search of sensations recalls John Malcovic in Portofino in an episode of that small masterpiece "Par delà des nuages" by Antonioni. A dedication to these important two great masters, who died the same day during the making of the film, puts them in the report. Very personal, however, is that Wenders is the reworking of the theme of the picture. In philosophy, in fact, the image is always linked to death, because it is a representation that is released by the passage of time has no beginning or end, has no life, remember the last story, but also the beauty of the disaster, is self- . The picture today is the image par excellence, says the white spirit Dennis Hopper, but most of all this art has ruined the appearance of digital, which takes away the negative, the concentration of the artist, the fascination of the unseen, the expression of the shadows, but also the mystery of the double: we lose consciousness with digital instant on the brink of two realities, including opposing forces mirror and inverse forms. Now the man sleeping on giant beds, now squats on tiny couches, shape and mind do not match. Just brush with death, or refusing to enjoy life (the protagonist is both experiences), it can be nell'aldiquà and hereafter. Except to know and then return to the world. How not to get captured by these images and reflections on the threshold of Wenders?