At 29, Darren Aronofsky catapulted to filmmaking stardom with a little independent film called Pi, a mind-bending thriller about a mathematician obsessed with a numerical code of grand-unifying proportions. Now, eight years later, after the creation of both Requiem for a Dream and a child (with actress Rachel Weisz), Aronofsky is back with The Fountain, a mind-bending thriller about a scientist obsessed with a life-saving experiment. Needless to say, Aronofsky himself is a little bit obsessed with crafting science-fictional universes.
The 37-year-old writer-director says he was always interested in science—his father taught the subject—but he was never particularly good at it in high school. He instead studied filmmaking and animation at Harvard University.
The Fountain, Aronofsky says, was inspired by a series of conversations he had with Ari Handel, his former Harvard roommate, who has a PhD in neuroscience from New York University’s Center for Neural Science. In 1999, Handel and Aronofsky began to discuss the search for the Fountain of Youth and how ideas can interconnect like a Russian doll, with one fitting inside the other.
“I think science is a very structured way to analyze the spiritual world. But sometimes there is a touch of magic that you can’t put your finger on.”
In the film, these multiple layers involve three parallel storylines revolving around a man (Hugh Jackman) searching for a cure for his wife’s terminal brain tumor. Past and future narratives interweave with the present: Weisz stars as both the man’s beloved and the Queen of Spain, and Jackman is a Spanish conquistador in search of the Fountain of Youth and a futuristic astronaut trying to hold onto eternal life and love. Rest assured, it all makes sense in the end—more or less.
Mr Nobody, Nemo Nobody, is now 100 years old, the last mortal on earth in 2092, and he is about to die. Questioned about his life on his death bed by a journalist that sneaked in the hospital, he tells the stories of his lives. Yes, lives, his three lives, his three destinies between which he was unable to choose from. Three love stories, three very different existences conditioned by apparently meaningless decisions. Three paths, three wives, three families, three fates.
This genuinely mind blowing movie is an experience revolving around the notion of choice, the importance or futility of decisions, a complex story that questions randomness, and what our lives are made of. Illustrated by bribes of a science documentary enlightening us about concepts like time before and after the big bang, the extremely interesting superstition of the pigeon, the eventuality of the big crunch, the complexity of quantum mechanics and string theory. This is a journey into the human psyche and the ability to create and explore in our imagination all the possible moves, like a chess player, that would lead to different paths, different existences. Exceptionally imaginative, acutely funny and startling, this production reeks of intelligence and craftsmanship, breaks down linear storytelling into bits, only to shuffle the whole thing in a brilliantly orchestrated masterpiece. It reminded me of so many great experiences, from David Lynch movies to Jorge Luis Borges books, it’s an exquisite bundle of intellect and emotion.
Choices, their meaning, why we choose this or that road through our lives, their consequences, whether we are aware of them of not. How many different lives could we be living ? Through the infinite possibilities facing each and every one of us, the good and the bad choices, every turn taken creates a new life, the most interesting of all is being alive. Chaos theory and butterfly effect to remind us how small we are in the randomness of the universe and yet so able to actively manifest the reality we desire. Nemo Nobody has to choose between leaving with his mother or stay with his father, the starting point of the exploration his available destinies. Unable to decide, he chooses both and takes us for a ride through an immensity of possible.
The filming is smooth and sequences linked in a flow of event that jumps back and forth through time, brilliantly edited with great attention for rhythm. The music score is so adequately put together that it adds to the already stunning staging efficiency of the directing by Jaco Van Dormael. I dare to say this is the very best movie of 2009 and will most likely go see it a second time next week, one can never get enough of these absolutely mind blowing experiences. Confusing and dazzling at the same time, it manages to spark the most interesting discussions about the meaning of life, in an attempt to pinpoint why we live it. Whatever you got planned for this week end, just drop it and go see that movie, you will not regret it.
There is a concept which corrupts and upsets all others. I refer not to Evil, whose limited realm is that of ethics; I refer to the infinite.
„Hannes Stöhr gelingt fulminant das, was noch keinem Regisseur so gelungen ist: Das Erlebnis der Berliner Technonächte einzufangen. Der Zuschauer erlebt im Kinosessel eine Clubnacht aus Musik, Hedonismus und Rausch […] Paul Kalkbrenner legt ein sensationelles Schauspieldebüt hin.“
– Deutsche Welle – Kultur 21 (16. August 2008)
In the night time when the world is at it’s rest.
You will find me. In the place I know the best.
Dancin’ shoutin’. Flying to the moon.
Don’t have to worry. ‘Cause I’ll be come back soon.
And we build up castles in the skys and in the sand.
Design our own world ain’t nobody understand.
I found myself alive in the palm of your hand.
As long as we are flyin’ all this world is ain’t got no end. All this world ain’t got no end.
In the daytime you will find me by your side.
Trying to do my best. Trying to make things right.
When it all turns wrong. There is no flow but mine.
But it won’t hit hard. You let me shine.
And we build a castle in the skys and in the sand.
Design a own world ain’t nobody understand.
I found myself alive in the palm of your hand.
As long as we are flying all this world is ain’t got no end. All this world is got no end.
And we build a castle in the skys and in the sand.
Design a own world ain’t nobody understand.
I found myself alive in the palm of your hand.
As long as we are flying all this world is ain’t got no end. All this world is got no end.
The series stars Hugh Dillon as Mike Sweeney, a homicide detective from Toronto who moves his family to suburban Durham County to start over after his partner is killed and his wife Audrey (Hélène Joy) is diagnosed with breast cancer. However, he soon discovers that his neighbour and childhood nemesis Ray Prager (Justin Louis) may be a serial killer.
Breaking Bad is an American television drama series created and produced by Vince Gilligan. The series is broadcast in the United States and Canada on the cable network AMC. It premiered on January 20, 2008, and completed its first seven-episode season on March 9, 2008. The show’s 13-episode second season ran from March 8 to May 31, 2009. A third season was announced in April 2009.
Set and produced in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Breaking Bad revolves around Walter White (Bryan Cranston), a struggling high school chemistry teacher with a teenage son who has cerebral palsy (RJ Mitte), and a pregnant wife, Skyler (Anna Gunn). When the already tense White is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, he breaks down and turns to a life of crime, and starts producing and selling methamphetamine with his former student Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul) in a desire to secure his family’s financial future.
Rose Lorkowski (Amy Adams) finds herself a single mother attempting to support her son Oscar (Jason Spevack) and her unreliable sister Norah (Emily Blunt) while working a mundane job as a maid. Once the head cheerleader in school with plenty of prospects, Rose now has little to show for her years, and while she still sees the former lead football player (Steve Zahn), it is little more than a despondent affair. When Oscar is expelled from public school, Rose takes a job as a bio-hazard crime-scene cleaner to help pay for a private education, and brings Norah on to help in her steadily growing business. As the sisters work to clean up the messes left behind by the chaotic lives of others, they must learn to reconcile their own differences and overcome a troubled past if they hope to prosper in their newfound venture. – The Massie Twins.
When KYM (Anne Hathaway) returns to the Buchman family home for the wedding of her sister RACHEL (Rosemarie Dewitt), she brings a long history of personal crisis and family conflict along with her. The wedding party’s abundant cast of friends and relations have gathered for an idyllic weekend of feasting, music and love, but Kym—with her black-comic one-liners and knack for bombshell drama—is a catalyst for long-simmering tensions in the family dynamic.
Filled with the rich and eclectic characters that have always been a hallmark of Jonathan Demme’s films, RACHEL GETTING MARRIED paints a strikingly perceptive and sometimes hilarious family portrait. Director Demme, first-time writer Jenny Lumet, and the stellar acting ensemble leaven the drama of these difficult but compelling people with wry affection and generosity of spirit.
Ein schöner Film für den Jahreswechsel in der kalten Jahreszeit!
Ab 23.12. in der Filmpalette. Ich empfehle die OMU – Fassung.
Set in a neighborhood outside Stockholm, largely in and around a nondescript apartment complex, Let the Right One In is, first, a coming-of-age tale about Oskar (Kare Hedebrant), a slight, pale boy with a shock of blond hair and good humor that belies his general beat-down wariness and barely contained anger. He’s the target of menacing schoolyard bullies and, as the film begins, we see him practicing with a knife, imagining that he’s jabbing it into the flesh of one of his tormenters. Oskar has a new neighbor, the similarly tiny and wary Eli (Lina Leandersson), who has moved into the flat next door with Hakan (Per Ragnar), an older man who seems to be her father. Hakan covers the windows with cardboard — perhaps to block out the sunlight. At one point, we hear Eli snarling, “You’re supposed to help me!” Horror-movie fans will no doubt suspect something sinister is going on, and they will be correct. Let the Right One In is certainly a horror movie, and it brings the pain in genre fashion. But it’s also a kind of Scandinavian gothic — a love story between 12-year-olds, one of whom has been 12 for a very long time.
The setting is stark. Oskar’s apartment complex, where he lives alone with his clueless mother, is reminiscent of those dull buildings where Kieslowski set his Dekalog, but snowbound. In this drab milieu, Eli is a quietly disruptive force. Her needs are too primal for the aging and clumsy Hakan to satisfy. His attempts to drain the blood of innocent bystanders, which she needs for sustenance, end in failure as he’s discovered by passersby, and so she takes matters into her own hands. But when she meets Oskar — standing alone, outside, in the dark — she doesn’t see dinner as much as a kindred, desparate spirit. He’s kind to her as a reflex, and she likes that. When he suggests that she borrow his Rubik’s cube, a sort of talisman of human reason, she seems to like that even more (and she solves it easily). It’s a gesture of kindness aimed at someone who doesn’t seem to have trusted another living soul in ages.
Let the Right One In is in some ways a slight film, but it’s evocative, visceral and deeply felt. The script adaptation by John Ajvide Lindqvist, from his own novel, is no doubt a gloss on the original material, and director Tomas Alfredson doesn’t spend a whole lot of time trying to bring the suburb of Blackeberg to life — the town is represented here mainly by a bar, a school, a few houses, and an expansive frozen lake. Certain fashion trends and an absence of technology give the film a period flavor throughout, but only the presence of that Rubik’s cube and a passing reference to Leonid Brezhnev ground it in time and place. The press notes say it takes place in 1982, which sounds about right. (In 1982, I was 12, too, and getting my ass kicked until I figured out that fighting back was not only easy but remarkably effective and unlikely to get me into trouble.)
What passes for local flavor is weather. The film’s opening and closing imagery involves snow, seen shining in the dark, moving gently out of focus, and a boy, Oskar, standing at a window, hand pressed to a chilly pane of glass. Throughout the film, Alfredson has a good enough eye that his evocative shot compositions and editorial decisions put the material in enough context without a lot of supporting information. (One of his master shots, set in the shadows underneath a bridge, suckered me in completely, and ended up scaring the hell out of me.)
Alfredson strategy instead is to focus on his two central performances, delivered by actual 12-year-olds who ground their characters with natural behavior. The beaten-but-not-broken Oskar is a beacon of warmth amid the ice, but he’s growing chilly. His position is pitiable — his mother is out of touch, his father seems like a bit of a drunk, and the mean kid at school seems oddly motivated against, in that way young bullies have of relishing and taking pride in their abusive behavior.
Eli is cold, literally and figuratively, but with a passion that hasn’t quite been extinguished. Learning that Oskar is being victimized, Eli gives him a pep talk, raising his courage and urging him to fight back. After he does so, with satisfying results, his own temperature starts to drop — in one scene, he turns into a little bit of a dick, baiting Eli by daring her to cross a threshold without invitation. (The title, borrowed by Lindqvist for his novel from a Morrissey lyric, refers to the trope of vampire stories that bars them from entering your home unless invited inside.) Eli knows how to defuse that tendency, and responds to his power trip with a demonstration of great trust and selflessness that not only results in one of the film’s more indelibly grisly images, but one of its characteristic moments of humanity.
That’s Eli’s conundrum — she’s a gentle, caring character who may be Oskar’s protector and savior. But she’s also a murderer, killing in her own self-interest and evincing not a shred of guilt or regret for her crimes against humanity.
There are wonderful shots where the two kids consider each other through panes of glass, suggesting the reflections they see in one another, and other scenes where they learn to communicate in morse code, dramatizing the unspeakable distance that still separates them. It’s a sensitive, melancholy romance (with just the whiff of adolescent sexual interest) involving two kids who, for very different reasons, have little understanding of romantic love, but to my eyes (tear-stained, yes) Alfredson never goes mushy with this stuff. Instead, he employs snarling genre tactics, breaking up the delicate business with moody scenes of violence that are more startling for their unexpected ferocity. It’s a bloody film, even in some moments an overtly gory one, but where another director and cinematographer might have been tempted to go nuts splashing bright red blood across spreads of snowy white, Let the Right One In remains dark, forbidding, and in all things restrained. Still, it’s eminently satisfying, with moments of impressive ghoulishness leading up to a quietly rousing climax that almost qualifies as too much of a gift to genre fans.
But there’s enough complexity and substance to the character relationships to exculpate Alfredson from any charges of pandering to a mass audience. Even the final scene has a dangerous undertow — it’s surely a happy ending, but even the optimists in attendance have to harbor some trepidation over what might happen next. Let the Right One In is fascinating in its capacity for metaphor, scary in its credibility, and unsettlingly seductive.
Die siebenminütigen Episoden um ein aufgewecktes Schaf und seine Abenteuer sind streng genommen eine Spin-Off-Produktion der legendären “Wallace & Gromit”-Spielfilm-Reihe. Ebenfalls in der gleichen aufwändigen Stop-Motion-Technik produziert, ist “Shaun” nicht nur ein großer Spaß für die ganz Kleinen, sondern auch ein unterhaltsamer Zeitvertreib für Ältere. Da geht hie und da auch mal absichtlich ein Gag über die Köpfe der Kiddies hinweg und hat die älteren Semester auf der Couch im Visier. Die Serie, die fast komplett ohne gesprochenes Wort auskommt, hebt sich somit sehr wohltuend von den Zeichentrick-Massenproduktionen ab, die allmorgendlich bei RTL2 und Konsorten über den Bildschirm flimmern.
