29.4.10

Juan Jose Campanella to direct 'Heck' film adaptation (The Hollywood Reporter)


Juan Jose Campanella, whose Argentinean film "The Secret in Their Eyes" won the foreign-language film Oscar this year, is making his English-language feature directing debut by tackling "Heck," an adaptation of a children's fantasy novel for Spyglass Entertainment.

"Heck," described as a kids' version of Dante's "Inferno," centers on a good boy named Milton Fauster who, with his shoplifting sister, dies in a freak accident and ends up in an unearthly reform school called Heck, where Lizzie Borden teaches home economics and Richard Nixon is the ethics teacher. Milton meets Virgil, a boy who has a map of the Nine Circles of Heck, and the two plot to escape the netherworld and its leader, the principal of darkness Bea "Elsa" Bubb.

The project will adapt the first book of the series, "Heck: Where the Bad Kids Go," written by Dale E. Basye and illustrated by Bob Dob. A second book, "Rapacia: The Second Circle of Heck," was published last year, and a third book, "Blimpo: The Third Circle of Heck," will be released next month.

Spyglass' Roger Birnbaum, Gary Barber and Jonathan Glickman are producing. Cassidy Lange, the company's vp production, brought in the project and will oversee.

Spyglass, which is looking at "Heck" as a big, effects-driven family adventure in the vein of "Beetlejuice," is zeroing on a writer to adapt the book; Campanella will supervise the writing.

Campanella has been working in the U.S. on the TV side of the business on and off for more than a decade. Repped by CAA, Protocol Entertainment and Stone Meyer Genow, he most recently directed episodes of Fox's "House" and NBC's "Law & Order: SVU."

Spyglass is in production on "The Tourist," a thriller starring Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp that the company is producing with GK Films. Spyglass also co-financed the upcoming comedies "Get Him to the Greek" and "Dinner for Schmucks" and is co-financing Ivan Reitman's untitled Paramount comedy.


Cannes 2010: "The Tree", de Julie Bertucelli, película de clausura

Julie Bertucelli ’s film, The Tree, with Charlotte Gainsbourg, Marton Csokas and Aden Young, will be presented at the Closing Ceremony of the 63rd Festival de Cannes. Shot in Australia, the film is an adaptation of Judy Pascoe’s novel, "Our Father Who Art in the Tree".

The film will be screened on Sunday May 23rd once the Award ceremony, presided by the American filmmaker Tim Burton, is over. The Festival de Cannes opens on Wednesday May 12th with Robin Hood, by Ridley Scott.

Críticas: "Iron Man 2" y "Synecdoche, New York" (Clarín)



28.4.10

Cannes 2010: Trailers de "Poetry", "Hahaha" y "Aurora"


Lee Chang Dong's "Poetry" (sin subtítulos)


Hong Sang-soo's "Hahaha" (sin subtítulos)


"Aurora", de Cristi Puiu (teaser, con subtítulos en inglés)

Cannes 2010: ¿no falta anunciar jurados?


Digo, dan como que ya está todo anunciado para el Festival de Cannes, pero tengo la sensación de que siguen faltando, al menos, dos cosas importantes. Una -menos importante que tradicional- es la película de clausura. Dos, si le están dando tanta bola a "Un Certain Regard", ¿no debería salir quienes van a acompañar a Claire Denis en ese jurado? ¿O la mina es tan "capanga" que se arregla solita para decidir todo?

Y ya que estamos, pregunto: ¿los premios se darán el domingo 23, no? Porque si se dan el 22, yo voy a estar viendo la final de la Champions aunque sea en el medio del Palais.


26.4.10

Dos argentinos en los jurados del Festival de Locarno


The jury for the Concorso internazionale (International Competition) has five members, and its president will be Singaporean filmmaker, Eric Khoo (Be with me, 2005; My Magic, 2008). He will be accompanied in the task of selecting the Pardo d’oro (Golden Leopard) by Iranian actress Golshifteh Farahani (Body of Lies by Ridley Scott, 2008; About Elly by Asghar Farhadi, 2009), French actor Melvil Poupaud (Time to Leave by François Ozon, 2005; A Christmas Tale by Arnaud Desplechin, 2010), Swiss director Lionel Baier (Stupid Boy, 2004; Another Man, 2008) and American filmmaker Joshua Safdie (The Pleasure of Being Robbed, 2008; Go Get Some Rosemary, 2009).

The jury for the Concorso Cineasti del presente (Filmmakers of the Present Competition), now dedicated to first and second films, will be chaired by Eduardo Antin, aka “Quintin”, former director of the Buenos Aires Film Festival (BAFICI). Other jury members confirmed so far include German director Maren Ade (The Forest for the Trees, 2003; Everyone Else, 2009) and Belgian filmmaker Joachim Lafosse (Private Madness, 2004; Private Property, 2006).

Finally, there is the jury for the Pardi di domain (Leopards of Tomorrow), the section dedicated to short films, which has both a national and international competition. Argentine director Lisandro Alonso (Los Muertos, 2004; Liverpool, 2008) will be jury president, accompanied by French producer Sylvia Pialat, from Les Films du Worso (The King of Escape by Alain Guiraudie, 2009; Rebecca H. – Return To The Dogs by Lodge Kerrigan, 2010), Swiss actress Nina Meurisse (Complices by Frédéric Mermoud, 2009), and Portuguese director Miguel Gomes (A Cara que Mereces, 2004; This Dear Month of August, 2008).

Artistic director of the Festival, Olivier Père comments “For the selection in the 63rd edition of the Festival, that promises to be rich in terms of new discoveries, we have chosen international personalities, young and passionate about films, who are highly respected within the sector. We are delighted they have responded to our invitation with such enthusiasm.

The final line-up for the Concorso Cineasti del presente and the Pardi di domani juries will be announced over the next few weeks.

The 63rd edition of the Locarno Film Festival will take place August 4 -14, 2010.

Gustavo Noriega: libro y escándalo


Anoche, en la presentación de un libro sobre el INDEC escrito por el colega, director de la revista El Amante, buen amigo y ex empleado de dicho organismo, Gustavo Noriega, hubo serios incidentes que terminaron con varios detenidos, sillazos, golpes y otros destrozos varios mientras el panel intentaba presentar el libro en cuestión.

En este Link un recuento de lo sucedido y audio del propio Noriega, a quien supongo atosigado por radios y diarios, y convertido, de golpe, en otro tipo de figura mediática (imagino que no es la que más le agrada). Desde este modesto espacio, le mando mi mayor solidaridad y apoyo. Si hay tipos realmente serios y profesionales en lo que hacen, Gustavo es uno de ellos, y se que llevaba años preparando este trabajo. Y que no se merece ser objeto --ni él ni su trabajo-- de este tipo de amenazas y operaciones políticas.


25.4.10

Radio Micropsia: Episodio 23


Por Radio Nacional (FM 93.7), domingos de 20 a 22hs.
O por internet, entrando por aquí.

No, la foto no es de acá, pero podría serlo (tampoco cambian mucho visualmente los shows de Jonathan Richman). Lo cierto es que estuvimos allí, en el Salón Real, y lo vimos. Escucharlo, más o menos, pero era él y, si hacías silencio, parecía como que cantaba. Así que repasaremos el concierto, otros shows de la semana, y algunos lanzamientos nacionales e internacionales (de Cerati a Jakob Dylan, pasando por MGMT), además de nuestros comentarios sobre el cine de la semana. Si quieren escuchar algún programa en donde no se diga que "La cinta blanca" es una obra maestra, tienen una cita con nosotros a las 20.


"El secreto de sus ojos", un éxito en los Estados Unidos


Según las estimaciones de taquilla del segundo fin de semana de "El secreto de sus ojos" en los Estados Unidos, el filme recaudó allí 372 mil dólares entre viernes y domingo en 33 salas. En su primer fin de semana había llevado 168 mil espectadores en diez salas. Si bien el promedio por sala bajó un poco (de 16.800 a 11.200, algo que pasa siempre cuando las películas se expanden a más salas), la película ya superó los 605 mil dólares en sólo diez días.

No sólo eso: pasó del puesto 30 al puesto 17 y subió un 121% su taquilla respecto al fin de semana anterior. Es el segundo mejor promedio por sala en todos los Estados Unidos (sólo por debajo de "Exit Through the Gift Shop", el documental del artista de grafitti Banksy, que se ve sólo en once salas) y es también la segunda película que más creció en taquilla respecto a la semana pasada (la primera es "The City of Your Final Destination" porque, claro, pasó de una pantalla a once).

No hay duda que pronto superará la barrera del millón de dólares y habrá que ver cómo se sostiene con las siguientes semanas a partir del excelente "boca a boca" que está teniendo en los Estados Unidos, tanto como lo tuvo en todos los lugares en los que se estrenó.


Este cuadro es el de las calificaciones (entre A y D, de mejor a peor) que los lectores del sitio www.boxofficemojo.com le dan a la película. Lo cual habla de que el futuro comercial de la película es más que promisorio.

Cannes 2010: Fotos de "Carancho", de Pablo Trapero








Cannes 2010: Fotos de "Los labios", de Santiago Loza e Ivan Fund






Cannes 2010: Fotos de "La mirada invisible", de Diego Lerman





Cannes 2010: "Stones in Exile" (The Guardian)

It's nearly 40 years since the Rolling Stones fled to the French Riviera and recorded their masterpiece, Exile on Main St. On the eve of its relaunch, Sean O'Hagan marvels that the album was made at all…

There is a great moment in Stones in Exile, a new documentary about the making of Exile on Main St in 1971, when Keith Richards defines the essential difference in temperament between Mick Jagger and himself.

"Mick needs to know what he's going to do tomorrow," says Richards, his voice slurring into a laugh. "Me, I'm just happy to wake up and see who's hanging around. Mick's rock, I'm roll."

On Exile on Main St, though, Jagger, for once, rolled with Richards. So, too, did everyone else involved, from Jimmy Miller, the producer, to Marshall Chess, the young Atlantic Records executive, to the rest of the group and their extended retinue of session players, studio technicians and hangers-on.

Once the decision had been made to record the album in the basement of Villa Nellcôte, Richards's rented house in the south of France, the working schedule was dictated by the irregular hours kept by the group's wayward guitarist, who also had a singularly dogged approach to composing songs.

"A lot of Exile was done how Keith works," confirms Charlie Watts in the documentary, "which is, play it 20 times, marinade, play it another 20 times. He knows what he likes, but he's very loose." Without a trace of irony, Watts adds, "Keith's a very bohemian and eccentric person, he really is."

Exile on Main St is so emphatically stamped with Keith Richards's rock'n'roll signature that it could just as easily have been called "Torn and Frayed" after one of the two gloriously ragged songs that he wrote the lyrics for. The title alone sums up his gypsy demeanour, his elegantly wasted look. Or they could simply have called it "Happy", after another track that was actually recorded in a single take when Richards woke up one morning – or evening – and gathered up the only other people who were awake, saxophonist Bobby Keys and producer Jimmy Miller, who was drafted in to play drums in place of the absent Watts. The whole record was, says Keys, a good ol' boy from Texas, "about as unrehearsed as a hiccup".

Perhaps because he was not the controlling presence on Exile on Main St, which has often been voted the greatest rock'n'roll record ever by music critics, it is not necessarily one of Mick Jagger's favourite Rolling Stones albums. He once described it as sounding "lousy" with "no concerted effort of intention", adding "at the time, Jimmy Miller was not functioning properly. I had to finish the whole record myself, because otherwise there were just these drunks and junkies."

Jagger may have been miffed that his vocals are sometimes swallowed up in the soupy mix but he sings with real passion throughout and seems galvanised by the raw rock'n'roll the group are making. If anyone should need a reminder that no one before or since has sounded as louche and limber, so raggedly majestic, they should watch the Stones playing "Loving Cup" live on their subsequent American tour. Footage of that performance is a highlight of the documentary, produced by the Oscar -winning film-maker John Battsek, which will be premiered at the Cannes film festival before screening on the BBC later in May.

Despite his former reservations, Jagger has gotten behind the planned reissue of the album, too, which comes in a deluxe package containing 10 previously unheard bonus tracks, some of which are alternative takes of familiar songs while others sound suspiciously like they have only recently had new vocals added. No one in the Stones' camp is coming clean as to whether this is the case or not.

For the purists among us, though, the original version of Exile on Main St, in all its ragged, full-on, rock'n'roll swagger, is all we need. "This is just a tree of life," said Tom Waits, when he selected it as one of his all-time favourite records a few years back. "This record is a watering hole." On the documentary, Caleb Followill from Kings of Leon is taken aback to discover the album was recorded in France. "I literally thought they were in Memphis, going out every night eating barbecue and partying." Which is exactly what it sounds like.

The creation of Exile on Main St, like so many early chapters in the Rolling Stones story, is shrouded in myth and blurred by conflicting anecdotal evidence. The American journalist Robert Greenfield, who was present briefly during the recording, wrote an entire book about — and named after — the album. Its subtitle is "A Season in Hell With the Rolling Stones". The book paints an often lurid portrait of Richards and his then partner, Anita Pallenberg. Greenfield places the couple at the centre of a spiral of sustained hard drug abuse and wilfully amoral behaviour. Among the rumours he airs, but does not confirm or refute, is the one about Pallenberg encouraging an employee's young daughter to inject heroin for the first time. Another has Jagger bedding Pallenberg while Richards has nodded out on heroin, thus reigniting an affair they were rumoured to have had while filming Performance under the direction of Nic Roeg in 1968.

Needless to say, the documentary, which has Jagger's controlling presence written all over it, does not dwell on such unsavoury and unsubstantiated matters. The French photographer Dominique Tarle, who chronicled the making of the album in a series of wonderfully evocative shots, and who was Greenfield's entrée into the Stones' milieu, had this to say about the book when I spoke to him in Paris last week: "I read only eight pages and I really felt sick. First of all, how can he not write about the music? And all this stuff about a season in hell with the Rolling Stones? No, no, it was anything but that. We were all young and it was a time of great freedom and energy and creativity. For me, it was a kind of rock'n'roll heaven."

Perhaps, though, it was both. Tommy Weber, who is described as "a racing driver, drug runner and adventurer" in the documentary, and as "a fabulous character straight out of F Scott Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night" by Greenfield, was one of Richards's inner circle at Nellcôte. His son, Jake, now a Hollywood actor, was just eight when he witnessed the decadence around the Rolling Stones first-hand. In Stones in Exile, he says, "There was cocaine, a lot of joints. If you're living a decadent life, there is always darkness there. But, at this point, this was the moment of grace. This was before the darkness, the sunrise before the sunset."

Bobby Keys, as ever, is more blunt. "Hell, yeah, there was some pot around, there was some whiskey bottles around, there was scantily clad women. Hell, it was rock'n'roll!"

Others experienced more mundane but no less pressing problems. Both Charlie Watts and Bill Wyman missed home and some of their own creature comforts. "I hated leaving England," Wyman reminisces. "You had to import Bird's custard, Branston pickle and piccalilli... you had to buy PG Tips and then deal with the French milk."

The Rolling Stones pitched up in the south of France in the spring of 1971 as reluctant tax exiles fleeing the Labour government's punitive 93% tax on high earners. The group had just extricated themselves, at some cost, from a misguided management deal with the infamous Allen Klein, who was still claiming he owned their publishing rights. In the public eye, though, the Stones were still the rock group that most defined the outlaw rock'n'roll lifestyle, their bad reputation built on an already colourful past that included high-profile drug busts, the death by drowning of Brian Jones, one of their founding members, the near death by overdose of Marianne Faithfull, Mick Jagger's former girlfriend, and the murder of a fan by Hell's Angels, who had been hired by the group's management to provide security at 1969's ill-fated Altamont festival.

Altamont was viewed by many contemporary observers as the symbolic death of the 60s dream of a burgeoning counterculture; by others as an inevitable result of the Stones' hubris and arrogance. Through it all, though, the Stones' music had echoed their turbulent lifestyle and soundtracked the tumultuous times, from the upfront sexual bravado of "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" in 1965, through the apocalyptic swirl of "Gimme Shelter" in 1969, to the swagger of "Brown Sugar" in 1971.

Sticky Fingers, the group's ninth album, nestled at the top of the British and US pop charts as the Stones, their families and extended entourage decamped to France to begin their exile. Richards sensed that the reason for their flight from Britain was not just to do with their dire financial predicament.

"There was a feeling you were being edged out of your own country by the British government," he remembers. "They couldn't ignore that we were a force to be reckoned with."

Having searched the coastline and hills around the town of Villefranche-sur-Mer for a suitable recording space, the Stones then opted to start working in the cavernous, multi-roomed basement of Nellcôte, with their mobile recording studio parked outside in the driveway. The house had once been occupied by the Nazis, and in a recent interview Richards describes working there as "like trying to make a record in the Führerbunker. It was that sort of feeling… very Germanic down there – swastikas on the staircase… Upstairs, it was fantastic. Like Versailles. But down there… it was Dante's Inferno."

In the often intense heat of the dank basement, the group struggled to get started. Musicians set up their instruments in adjoining rooms, with Bill Wyman having to play his bass in one space while his amplifiers stood in a hallway. Initially, they were hampered by guitars going out of tune due to the humidity. Basic communication, too, was a problem, with Jimmy Miller continually having to run from the mobile studio to the basement to deliver his instructions.

Then, a few weeks in, Mick Jagger announced that he was going to marry Bianca Pérez Morena de Macias, a Nicaraguan-born model, in nearby St Tropez. The international press and a clutch of the world's most famous pop stars jetted in for the very public wedding ceremony. As Jagger and his bride departed on honeymoon, the celebrations continued for a week at Villa Nellcôte. A week after they stopped, Gram Parsons, the country-rock singer who had bonded with Richards in Los Angeles a few years before over their shared love for Merle Haggard and heroin, arrived with his wife, Gretchen. The couple stayed for a month before they were diplomatically asked to leave by a Stones minion. "The atmosphere kept changing but the party kept going," says Tarle, laughing.

Interestingly, the Stones in Exile documentary does not even mention Parsons, whose closeness to Richards rattled the possessive Jagger. "Keith and Gram were intimate like brothers," says Tarle, "especially musically. The idea was floating around that Gram would produce a Gram Parsons album for the newly formed Rolling Stones Records. Mick, I think, was a little afraid because that would mean that Gram and Keith might even tour together to promote it. And if there is no room for Mick, there is no room also for the Rolling Stones. So, yes, there was tension. You could feel it and I captured it on Mick's face in some of my pictures."

The music the Stones made in Nellcôte reflected those tensions, as well as the sense of exile and uncertainty that hung heavily over the group, and the continuing encroachment of heroin on the lives of Richards and Pallenberg, and on the lives of some of those who entered their orbit. Speaking recently, Richards protested that he was not the only drug user in the group. "At the time, Mick was taking everything. Charlie was hitting the brandy like a motherfucker. The least of our concerns was what we ingested. These sorts of questions [about drugs] are predicated on what came a few years later when… I would play the game. 'Oh, you want that Keith Richards? I'll give you the baddest mother you've ever seen.'"

By October, though, heroin use seems to have been a constant in the lives of Richards and Pallenberg. "I walked into the living room one day and this guy had a big bag of smack," Pallenberg remembers, "and everything just disintegrated." Perhaps it was telling that when Richards bought himself a speedboat, he called it Mandrax.

Heroin brought with it the usual problems of supply and demand, and the usual retinue of shady characters and criminals, both local and from nearby Marseille. Villa Nellcôte was such an open house that, one day in September, burglars walked out of the front gate with nine of Richards's guitars, Bobby Keys's saxophone and Bill Wyman's bass in broad daylight while the occupants were watching television in the living room. "That's how loose and stupid it was out there," says Wyman. The crime was reputedly carried out by dealers from Marseille who were owed money by Richards. The nocturnal goings-on at Nellcôte were also starting to attract the attention of the local populace and the increasingly suspicious police force. "The music was so loud, really, really loud," Pallenberg remembers. "Sometimes I went to Villefranche during the day and you could hear the music there. And it went on all night."

Whatever the truth of the rumour about Pallenberg encouraging the teenage daughter of the resident chef to try heroin, the police eventually raided Nellcôte and, in 1973, both she and Richards were charged with possession of heroin and intent to traffic. The resulting guilty verdict meant that Richards was banned from entering France for two years, and thus the Stones could not play concerts there.

As summer turned to autumn, people started drifting away from Nellcôte and, in November 1971, Richards and Pallenberg followed suit. The album was eventually finished in Sunset Sound studios in Los Angeles. In the documentary, Jagger reveals that some of the lyrics were written at the last minute, including the album's first single, "Tumbling Dice", which was composed "after I sat down with the housekeeper and talked about gambling". The words to another gambling song, the frenetic "Casino Boogie", were created by Jagger and Richards in the cut-up mode made famous by William Burroughs, which gives a lie to the notion that the line about "kissing cunt in Cannes" refers to an episode in Jagger's notoriously promiscuous sex life.

Jagger also denied recently that "Soul Survivor" was about his relationship with Keith Richards during the making of Exile. On it, he sings the line, "You're gonna be the death of me".

In places, Exile on Main St does indeed sound, in the best possible way, like an album made by a bunch of drunks and junkies who were somehow firing on all engines. Jim Price and Bobby Keys's horns are an integral part of the dirty sound, as is Nicky Hopkins's rolling piano. Songs such as the galloping opener, "Rocks Off", surely about the effects of a heroin hit, and "All Down the Line" are messily powerful, with vocals fading in and out of focus and the group kicking up a storm underneath. "Tumbling Dice" features one of the greatest opening gear changes in rock'n'roll and a swagger that carries all before it.

In one way, the double album, housed in Robert Frank's contact sheet-style cover, is Keith Richards's swan song of sorts, a final blast of rock'n'roll energy before he descended into a protracted heroin addiction that would often make him seem – and sound – disconnected from the rest of the group during live shows. After Exile, Jagger carried the weight and, despite some great moments on subsequent albums including Goat's Head Soup and Black and Blue, the Stones would never sound so sexy, so raucous and abandoned, so low-down and dirty. Neither, though, would anyone else. By the time punk came and went and indie rock had taken hold, the mix of sexiness and sassiness that the Stones at their best epitomised had disappeared entirely from rock music. So had the kind of survival instinct that the group drew on when the going got tough.

"The Stones really felt like exiles," Richards says. "It was us against the world now. So, fuck you! That was the attitude." You can still hear it, loud and clear, on this messy, inchoate, rock'n'roll masterpiece; the Rolling Stones in excelsis.


24.4.10

"Metrópolis", de Fritz Lang (trailer norteamericano)


Apple has the trailer for the re-restored version of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis which premiered at Berlinale, will be the closing night film of the ongoing TCM Classic Film Festival and which will play in US theatersbeginning May 7 at New York’s Film Forum.

Re-restored? Well, “definitive” versions of the butchered classic have come out over the years including a 2001 75th anniversary restoration including 124 minutes of the film’s original 153. Then in 2008, a 16 mm reduction negative of the original cut of the film was discovered in poor shape in Argentina. The new footage has been restored as best as it can be (you can see how scratched much of it is in some of the scenes above) and the film is being shown in a form as close as possible to the way Fritz Lang originally intended.

The original editing has been restored with scenes now in their original order. Subplots are returned, others expanded on and character motivations are better explained.

Read more about the restoration, an updated synopsis and a detailed list of the new scenes at the Kino website.



Seldom has the rediscovery of a cache of lost footage ignited widespread curiosity as did the announcement, in July 2008, that an essentially complete copy of Fritz Lang's METROPOLIS had been found.



When it was first screened in Berlin on January 10, 1927, the sci-fi epic ran an estimated 153 minutes. After its premiere engagement, in an effort to maximize the film's commercial potential, the film's distributors (Ufa in Germany, Paramount in the U.S.) drastically shortened METROPOLIS. By the time it debuted in the states, the film ran approximately 90 minutes (exact running times are difficult to determine because silent films were not always projected at a standardized speed).



Even in its truncated form, METROPOLIS went on to become one of the cornerstones of fantastic cinema. Testament to its enduring popularity, the film has undergone numerous restorations in the intervening decades. In 1984, it was reissued with additional footage, color tints, and a pop rock score (but with many of its intertitles removed) by music producer Giorgio Moroder. A more archival restoration was completed in 1987, under the direction of Enno Patalas and the Munich Film Archive, in which missing scenes were represented with title cards and still photographs. More recently, the 2001 restoration—supervised by Martin Koerber, under the auspices of the Murnau Foundation—combined footage from four archives and ran a triumphant 124 minutes. It was widely believed that this would be the most complete version of Lang's film that contemporary audiences could ever hope to see.



But the world of film preservation is not governed by the laws of wide belief. In the summer of 2008, the curator of the Buenos Aires Museo del Cine discovered a 16mm dupe negative that was considerably longer than any existing print. It included not merely a few additional snippets, but 25 minutes of "lost" footage, about a fifth of the film, that had not been seen since its Berlin debut. The discovery of such a significant amount of material called for yet another restoration. Spearheading the project was the Friedrich-Wilhelm-Murnau-Stiftung (hereafter referred to as the Murnau Foundation), which controls the rights to most of Lang's silents and is the caretaker of the legacies of many other German filmmakers, including the one after whom the foundation is named. Film Restorer for the Murnau Foundation, Anke Wilkening coordinated the endeavor.



"We discussed the new approach with experts and German archive partners to establish a team for the 2010 restoration,"Wilkening explains, "The project consisted of two main tasks: the reconstruction of the original cut and the digital restoration of the heavily damaged images from the Argentinian source."



Returning to METROPOLIS was Koerber, Film Department Curator of the Deutsche Kinemathek, who had supervised the 2001 restoration. "Three people worked on what we call 'edition'—meaning sorting out the material and determining the order of shots, making aesthetic and technical decisions, etc.: Anke Wilkening, Frank Strobel and myself," says Koerber.



As word spread of the discovery of the Buenos Aires negative, a nervous public worried that archival politics might hinder the integration of the rediscovered footage into METROPOLIS. Koerber explains this was never the case. "They were always willing to cooperate, in fact they offered the material once they identified what it was."



Once obtained by the Murnau Foundation, the 16mm negative was digitally scanned in 2K by The Arri Group in Munich.



The condition of the 16mm negative posed a major technical challenge to the team. The image was streaked with scratches and plagued by flickering brightness. "It had all been printed from the 35mm nitrate print, which means they have become part of the picture," says Wilkening. The source 35mm element was later destroyed (probably due to the flammability and chemical instability of the nitrocellulose film stock).



An unfortunate lessons was thus learned from the restoration. "Don't throw your originals away even if you think you preserved them, and even if they are in bad shape," Koerber says, "If we could have had access to the 35mm nitrate print that was destroyed after being reprinted for safety onto 16mm dupe negative some 30 years ago, we would have been able to make a much better copy today."



Fortunately, advances in digital technology allowed the team to at least diminish some of the printed-in wear. "If we would have had the Argentinian material for the 2001 restoration, it would have hardly been possible to work on the severe damage," Wilkening says. In 2010, however, "it was possible to reduce the scratches prominent all over the image and almost eliminate the flicker that was caused by oil on the surface of the original print—without aggressively manipulating the image."



Under Wilkening and Koerber's supervision, the visual cleanup was performed by Alpha-Omega Digital GmbH, utilizing digital restoration software of their own development.



At one time, purists objected to the use of digital technology in the restoration of film. But it has become an indispensable tool for preservationists. "[Digital technology] has made things possible we could only dream of a decade or two ago," Koerber says, "Digital techniques allow more precise interventions than ever before. And it is still evolving—we are only at the beginning."



"The work on the restoration teaches us once more that no restoration is ever definitive," says Wilkening, "Even if we are allowed for the first time to come as close to the first release as ever before, the new version will still remain an approach. The rediscovered sections which change the film's composition, will at the same time always be recognizable through their damages as those parts that had been lost for 80 years." Viewing METROPOLIS today, the Argentine footage is clearly identifiable because so much of the damage remains. The unintended benefit is that it provides convenient earmarks to the recently reintegrated scenes.



Other changes are not so noticeable. Because the Buenos Aires negative provided a definite blueprint to the cutting of METROPOLIS—which in the past had been a matter of conjecture—the order of some of the existing shots has been altered in the 2010 edition, bringing METROPOLIS several steps closer to its original form.



It is important to note that the "new" shots are not merely extensions of previously existing scenes. In some cases, they comprise whole subplots that were lopped off in their entirety.



"It restores the original editing," Koerber says, "restoring the balance between the characters and subplots that remained and those that were excised."



"Thanks to the Argentine find, the film's structure changes thoroughly," explains Wilkening, "especially the three male supporting characters—Josaphat, Georgy and "der Schmale" (the Thin One)—who had been diminished to mere extras due to the elimination of two large scenes." "Parallel editing becomes now a major player in METROPOLIS," Wilkening says, "The new version represents a Fritz Lang film where we can observe the tension between his preferred subject, the male melodrama, and the bombastic dimensions of the Ufa production."



The 2010 restoration took about one year, from conception to completion, and was performed at a cost of 600,000€ (approx. $840,000). But Wilkening is quick to point out that it is but the latest chapter in an ongoing saga, and pays tribute to the other preservationists who have so vigorously championed the film. "METROPOLIS is the prototype of an archive film. Decades of research for the lost scenes and various attempts to reconstruct the first release version have produced a large pool of knowledge of this film."



Asked how the METROPOLIS restoration compared to other projects in which the Deutsche Kinemathek participated, Koerber replies, "No comparison, METROPOLIS is more complex in many ways. On the other hand, it is also more rewarding, as the [availability of source material]—film material as well as secondary sources—is exceptionally good."



Currently, Wilkening is finishing a restoration of Lang's DIE NIBELUNGEN saga, and is optimistic about future projects. "Like everybody we would be keen to find the lost films of Murnau and Lang." But she adds, "I would be happy to turn from the holy grails to some films which are existing in the vaults of the archives, but are forgotten and hardly considered for restorations as they are not part of the canon."



On behalf of the Deutsche Kinemathek, Koerber says, "We were happy to be a partner with the Murnau-Stiftung and provide all the necessary expertise as well as the documents from our collection (script, music, etc.). I hope this successful cooperation will be a model for future projects."



"The project was a very good experience regarding team work." Wilkening says, "The collaboration of the different individuals with different background—historians, musician and technicians—was exceptionally fruitful."



Now that METROPOLIS is—at least for now—behind them, preservationists resume their watch for new opportunities, and forgotten cans of film that might offer other cinema treasures a second life.




"El secreto de sus ojos", de Juan José Campanella (nuevas críticas)


By Joe Morgenstern/Wall Street Journal


An old Olivetti typewriter provides a running joke in "The Secret in Their Eyes," the Argentine drama that won a foreign-language Oscar last month—the machine can't type the letter 'A.' And the letter 'A' makes all the difference in the world when the hero inserts it in the middle of a one-word note, 'temo,' that he has written to himself. Then 'I fear' becomes 'I love you.' These are clever details in a drama that transcends cleverness. This beautiful film, directed with subtlety and grace by Juan José Campanella, really is about moving from fear to love.

The story begins in contemporary Buenos Aires, when Benjamin Espósito, a retired criminal investigator played by Ricardo Darín, decides to revisit a cold case—the brutal murder of a young woman—by writing a novel about it. In doing so he revisits his still-warm case of love for Irene Menéndez Hastings (Soledad Villamil), a Cornell-educated lawyer, now a judge with a husband and children, who was a beautiful young prosecutor when they worked together a quarter of a century ago.

If you were diagramming the script, which the director and Eduardo Sacheri adapted from Mr. Sacheri's novel, you might divide it between these two elements, an unsolved murder and unresolved love. No movie in memory, though, is less schematic. Elements intertwine. Feelings emerge, recede, resurface. Wit and humor—and remnants of hope—sustain lives burdened with regret. The movie is very much a murder mystery, and very much a love story—in fact a pair of stories about obsessive love lived out by two men with ostensibly different attitudes toward the past, and very different outcomes. It's also a meditation on the passage of time and the uses of memory, an argument for never looking back—"You'll have a thousand pasts and no future," the murder victim's husband tells Benjamin (with what turns out to be startling irony)—and, in a romantic vein, an advertisement for acting on love at whatever time of life.

Exceptional movies are often about many things, and that's certainly the case with this one. I can't recall a more dramatic interrogation than the scene in which a suddenly ferocious Irene tries, to Benjamin's astonishment, to break an implacable suspect. Or a more engagingly odd couple than Benjamin and his colleague Sandoval, an investigator with a fondness for wry jokes and booze. Or a more poignant leave-taking, when Irene and Benjamin embrace but don't kiss, and fear trumps love. (All of it is enhanced by Félix Monti's burnished, sometimes brooding cinematography.)

Of the two previous films I've seen starring Ricardo Darín, "Son of the Bride," which was also directed by Mr. Campanella, is out of print on DVD—please, Sony Pictures Classics, reissue it—but "Nine Queens" remains available, and I've discussed it in more detail elsewhere on this page. A formidable actor with commanding star quality, Mr. Darín, who is in his sixties, plays Benjamin in his thirties persuasively—the actor's vitality is more important than his young-age makeup. In the present-day passages he makes the hero an aging sophisticate whose urbane demeanor conceals suppressed but far from extinguished passion. Ms. Villamil's Irene is quick-witted and alluring in the past and present alike. In a film of impeccable performances, three other standouts are Guillermo Francella, who plays Sandoval; Pablo Rago as Morales, the bereaved husband whose love was almost unfathomably pure; and Javier Godino as the prime suspect, Isidoro Gómez, a figure of pure malevolence at a time in the 1970s when Argentina's military dictatorship was bringing evil back into style.

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A cold case and thawing hearts
By Ann Hornaday/Washington Post

Oscar mavens will recognize "The Secret in Their Eyes" as one of the few genuine upsets at this year's ceremony. The Argentine drama wound up winning for Best Foreign Language Film, upending expectations that Jacques Audiard's superb "A Prophet" would take home the award.

Although fans of "A Prophet" aren't likely to change their minds about who got robbed that night, they will no doubt concede that "The Secret in Their Eyes," an elegant romantic thriller adapted from a novel of the same name, is a terrific film. An absorbing story of the unlikely intersection of an unrequited love affair and an unresolved crime, this taut thriller features some bravura cinematic moments and memorable performances from an exceptionally attractive cast of players.

"The Secret in Their Eyes" opens in the present day, when former prosecution investigator Benjamin Esposito (Ricardo Darn), now retired, begins work on a novel about a case that has been haunting him since 1974, when a young woman was brutally raped and killed and the legal system failed to bring her killer to justice. When Benjamin takes a draft of his book to his former boss, Irene (Soledad Villamil), they begin to reminisce about their own relationship, professional and otherwise. Director Juan Jos Campanella smoothly navigates between past and present, and with each expertly timed revelation "The Secret in Their Eyes" begins to take on deeper layers of meaning that span Benjamin's personal feelings of culpability and the corrupt political backdrop of Argentina's notorious "Dirty War."

If the film's climactic twist borders on the luridly outlandish, Campanella deserves credit for staging it with restraint and for assembling a first-rate cast of seasoned actors. (Villamil, who resembles an Argentine Julie Christie, is a particular revelation.) A stunning unbroken take shot in the midst of a soccer match is worth the price of admission, ample reward for filmgoers whose only desire once the lights go down is to be astonished.


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Rick Groen
Toronto's Globe and Mail
The Secret in Their Eyes

Directed by Juan Jose Campanella
Written by Juan Jose Campanella and Eduardo Sacheri
Starring Ricardo Darin and Soledad Villamil

In the opening frames, a one-word note, scrawled by an aging man on a bedside pad in the seconds before sleep overtakes him, reads simply, “Temo” – I fear. What follows is a murder mystery, a romance, a comedy, a political document, and a dissertation on memory and truth, all seamlessly interwoven into a life-long journey that ends with the addition of a single transformative letter. Among the many secrets in The Secret in Their Eyes is how that old man gains the knowledge, and the courage, to elevate himself from “Temo” to “Te Amo” – from the clutches of fear to the balm of love. Such an arduous journey, yet such an effortless film. Both are remarkable; together, they won this year’s Oscar for best foreign picture.

We start in the movie’s present where Esposito, a retired criminal investigator, is struggling to write a novel about “the Morales case” – that is, a fictional representation of an actual tragedy that occurred way back in 1974. Early on, he pays a visit to his former colleagues in the Buenos Aires court system, including a now-prominent judge named Irene, and they banter with the witty cynicism of the professional classes. Yet there’s a palpable sadness clinging to Esposito. It’s not just that he’s divorced and living alone, but something larger, some unresolved emptiness endured over the decades.

The flashback returns us 25 years to the source of that emptiness. Irene, a blueblood educated at Cornell’s law school, has just arrived at the office. As their eyes meet, Esposito feels an instant attraction to her, and she to him, but he’s intimidated by their difference in social status. That’s the frustrated love story, a “what if?” tale of missed opportunities. Enter the murder mystery, which centres on the rape and killing of a young woman, a new bride with a devoted husband. Looking on as his superiors lazily arrest a pair of black migrant workers, then beat a confession out of them, Esposito strenuously objects, obtains the innocents’ release, and pursues the investigation on his own. But to no avail – the case is abandoned. Only he and the grieving husband, Morales, seem to care.

However, a year later, Esposito follows a new lead and tracks down the suspect to a packed soccer stadium – and director Juan Jose Campanella suddenly switches tactics, trading in his lingering close-ups for hand-held action. The chase sequence is heart-pounding, and, for very different reasons, so is the interrogation scene that follows, the one that sees Gomez (Javier Godino), the loosest of cannons, angrily blurt out his guilt. But remember the political backdrop. This is the seventies, the emerging period of the Argentine police state and of “the disappeared.” In such a state, men like Gomez, cruel men with homicidal talents, are useful. Horrifyingly, the government grants him a full executive pardon; he’s put to work.

Throughout these narrative turns, the film oscillates between the past and the present, as the older Esposito, and the audience too, strain to peer through the mists of time for answers that aren’t opaque. What happened to the wicked Gomez? To the long-suffering Morales? For that matter, what happened to Esposito himself, whose quest for justice in an unjust era made him highly vulnerable? This is where the vagaries of memory and truth suffuse the picture. For instance, Irene looks back at that period as she would at a faded photograph: “I don’t recognize myself. Who am I?” Esposito echoes her conclusion: “I was another person.” For them, and by extension for Argentina itself, the Morales case and its political context were a real nightmare that has grown surreal in retrospect.

How, then, to return that history to the realm of truth? Through memory, of course, but memory plays tricks – it’s the novel we’re all continually writing about our past. So, although the movie’s final act provides answers, offers a resolution, the melodramatic twists also raise suspicions that make it difficult to completely suspend our disbelief. Esposito has a similar problem. Yes, history contains hard facts, but he knows that time tends to encrust those facts in a layering of fiction, and, when it does, only this can be said: “Maybe that’s what happened.”

The wonder is that the film balances its many genres, from the thorns of murder to the bloom of romance to the thickets of politics, with such easy grace. Led by Ricardo Darin as truth’s crusader and Soledad Villamil as love’s beacon, the cast all deliver impeccably naturalistic performances, never theatrical and grounded in the sort of casual humour that lightens even the bleakest succession of days.

But naturalism isn’t realism, and that’s precisely the point here. Over a lifetime of chances seized and lost, of lies told and retracted, our eyes harbour secrets that our mind both knows and doesn’t know. To unravel those secrets can be a hero’s quest or a fool’s errand, and Esposito is duly warned: “Forget about it. You’ll have a thousand pasts and no future.” Maybe so, maybe not – after all, infected by the same germ of hope, history’s heroes are close cousins to its fools.

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The Secret in Their Eyes
Imagine a really long, really awesome episode of Law & Order set in Buenos Aires.
By Dana Stevens/Slate

The Secret in Their Eyes (Sony Pictures Classics), the Argentinean movie that won best foreign-language film at this year's Oscars after a brief run in New York last year, opens today in selected cities and will expand to more cities in May. The film's director, Juan José Campanella, has helmed a string of Argentinean hits in addition to multiple episodes of Law & Order, and if you imagine that compact procedural spun out into a thriller spanning 25 years (and set in the elegant streets of Buenos Aires), you'll get the general idea of what this movie feels like. It's a tightly plotted murder mystery that unfolds in leisurely, satisfying detail and manages to cram a whole miniseries' worth of events into its two-hour running time. Based on a novel by Eduardo Sacheri, The Secret in Their Eyes is an old-fashioned movie-movie, the kind that's substantial enough to go out to dinner after and discuss all the way through dessert.

Benjamin Esposito (Ricardo Darin, whose formidable, brooding presence anchors the film) is a recently retired criminal court investigator. Divorced and depressed, he decides to write a novel based on a 25-year-old cold case that's never ceased to haunt him. In 1974, a young married woman was raped and beaten to death in her apartment. The corrupt local police tortured two construction workers into falsely confessing to the crime. In an extended flashback, we see the younger Benjamin interviewing the victim's widower, Morales (Pablo Rago). Together they become convinced that the real killer is Isidoro Gomez (Javier Godino), a drifter from the girl's rural hometown. Benjamin enlists the help of his bumbling alcoholic colleague, Pablo (the wonderful Guillermo Francella) in tracking down the elusive Gomez. But they lack the evidence to convict Gomez, who's such a skilled sociopath that he's eventually recruited by the Buenos Aires police to carry out their extrajudicial dirty work.

Though the film never trumpets its wider ambitions, this crime thriller also functions as a study of institutional corruption and a treatise on the inconsistency of memory. As part of the research for his novel, Benjamin visits Irene (Soledad Villamil), a judge he worked with on the murder case and has secretly been in love with ever since. Their differing versions of what took place, both professionally and romantically, provide the structuring principle of the film. Campanella (who also edited) makes the present-day and flashback scenes seem part of a seamless whole, and the aging of the two main characters is handled more believably than it is in many Hollywood movies with far more to spend on makeup and special effects.

Any film that tells a story this intricate and sweeping is bound to have a few plot holes. A scene in which the investigators track down the perp in a packed soccer stadium provides an excuse for a breathtaking chase sequence, but it makes no logical sense. And one or two moments involving the killer (played with unsettling intensity by Godino, who resembles a young Christian Bale) threaten to cross the line from suspense into out-and-out melodrama. But The Secret in Their Eyes is large enough in scope to transcend these minor flaws. It's a cracking good murder mystery that, by the time the final twist kicks in, transforms into an moving meditation on memory and justice.

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4 stars for 'The Secret in Their Eyes'
Michael Phillips
Chicago Tribune
Movie critic
April 22, 2010


What are the odds that the year's most compelling mystery would end up hanging its hat on the year's richest love story?

From Argentina, "The Secret in Their Eyes" won this year's Academy Award for best foreign language film, besting such formidable titles as "The White Ribbon" and "A Prophet." All three offer lessons in combining pulp and sociology, bringing to life geographically specific and richly detailed worlds on screen. Of the three, though, it's this one — co-written, co-produced, edited and directed by Juan Jose Campanella — that really delivers as entertainment.

Campanella's resume is fascinating: He was born in Buenos Aires, where most of this legal drama takes place, but he has done a lot of American television in what could broadly be defined as workplace procedurals, ranging from "Law & Order" and "House" to "30 Rock." "The Secret in Their Eyes" ranges nearly as widely within its own 129 minutes.

You never quite know where it's going, yet its mixture of tones and colors and melodrama and mature, mellow romance is irresistible.

It takes a while to get the hang of its two-track narrative structure, adapted by Campanella and Eduardo Sacheri from Sacheri's novel. A divorced, 60-ish and recently retired criminal court investigator has undertaken a writing project, a fictionalized version of a 25-year-old rape and murder case never solved. Benjamin Esposito — played by Ricardo Darin — revisits his old haunts to bring the past into some kind of focus. His former colleague (Soledad Villamil), now a judge, has tantalized Esposito since they first met. He remains haunted by this woman, no less than the murder victim's grieving husband (Pablo Rago) is haunted by his own loss.

The movie works for many reasons. Each major character registers, both as written and as acted by this superb cast, and is vivid enough to deserve a film of his or her own. The wry, funny interaction of these midlevel bureaucrats, including Esposito's alcoholic but wily colleague (Guillermo Francella), moves and sounds and feels like life. (At times you might think you're watching two terrific episodes of "Law & Order" back to back, if "Law & Order" were set in Buenos Aires.)

Half the film unfolds in flashback in 1970s Argentina, as Esposito and his intrepid colleagues buck the system and try to solve a murder case rapidly growing cold. When they do catch up with their prime suspect, the scene's a fantastic showpiece: a chase all over a packed soccer stadium, seamlessly connecting several long takes, the most memorable of which follows the suspect onto the field during the match. (A key scene preceding this, one of ugly sexual goading behind closed office doors, is in its explicit way no less arresting.)

The mystery's resolution may remind you of Dennis Lehane's crime and morality tales. The script's exploration of a corrupt judicial system recalls the best of Sidney Lumet's ensemble works. But the love story is what sets "The Secret in Their Eyes" apart. Make no mistake, the film's a bit shameless: The poetic, running-to-say-goodbye-at-the-train-station prologue and its bookend sequence carry a whiff of the romance novel ethos. Yet Darin and Villamil are wonderful together, playing actual, three-dimensional grown-ups. It's a shock to the system, let me tell you.

There's nothing high-minded or consciously elevating about this picture. It's simply the best kind of pulp, done with feeling and smarts and behavioral details usually left out of both crime films and love stories.

4 stars

MPAA rating:
R (for a rape scene, violent images, some graphic nudity and language)
Cast:
Ricardo Darin (Benjamin Esposito); Soledad Villamil (Irene); Pablo Rago (Ricardo); Guillermo Francella (Pablo Sandoval); Javier Godino (Isidoro Gomez)
Credits:
Directed by Juan Jose Campanella; written by Eduardo Sacheri and Campanella, based on Sacheri's novel; produced by Gerardo Herrero, Mariela Besuievsky and Campanella. A Sony Pictures Classics release. Running time: 2:09.

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'Secrets' And Lies Drive An Oscar-Worthy Thriller
by BOB MONDELLO/NPR

At last month's Academy Awards, the biggest upset -- virtually the only upset from an oddsmaker's point of view -- came when Argentina's The Secret in Their Eyes took home the statuette for Best Foreign Language Film.

Most observers had pegged that category as a two-way race between France's Godfather-like crime epic A Prophet and Germany's austere social critique The White Ribbon. Instead, Oscar voters went for a noirish thriller that splits the difference between the two -- a taut murder mystery with a political conscience. That it does so with romance and not a little wit probably helped.

As the opening credits roll, writer-director Juan Jose Campanella shows us a one-time criminal investigator struggling to pen a novel about a crime that's haunted him for decades. In the mid-1970s, Benjamin Esposito (Ricardo Darin) had doggedly pursued a case -- the brutal rape and murder of a bank employee's wife -- despite official efforts to discourage him. He'd become emotionally involved, and empathetic. But the nearer he'd gotten to solving the crime, the stranger and more labyrinthine it had become.

Determined to bring literary closure to a case he'd been unable to close legally, he returns to his old Supreme Court stomping grounds. His stride is halting now, his hair streaked with gray, but his eyes still sparkle when he greets Irene Menendez Hastings (Soledad Villamil), a judge he worked with -- and carried a torch for -- some 25 years earlier.

When she hears that his novel will rehash the Morales case, though, her own eyes cloud. The original investigation had led both of them down dark legal alleyways that became more treacherous the further they ventured: In flashbacks, we learn of trumped-up charges, forced confessions, political interference and a killer still on the loose -- until Ben and a brilliant but alcoholic co-worker (comedian Ricardo Morales) track him one day to a soccer stadium.

The director sends his cameras hurtling after their suspect (a creepily feral Javier Godino) as he burrows deep into the bowels of the stadium -- catching up with him, losing him, leaping over banisters with him, even chasing him onto the field, where thousands of screaming fans boo as he interferes with a goal. It's a pretty visceral chase sequence, as tactile as it is frenetic. It's also, as Ben will explore years later in his novel, just a prelude to a decades-long nightmare that's far less public.

Leaping around in time, Campanella uses the aftermath of this one sadistic murder case to expose not just law-enforcement shortcomings but fault lines in Argentine society. Class distinctions interfere with everything from justice to romance; official pressure to forgive transgressions is countered by stubborn personal quests for justice.

Because the flashbacks take place in an era just before Argentina was brutalized by a military dictatorship -- a time of death squads, seared into the nation's memory -- the quest for justice is doubtless a given for Argentine audiences. And while American viewers don't start with the same reference point, Campanella, who's directed quite a few episodes of Law & Order: SVU, is just the guy to fill us in.

He's hampered somewhat by overheated source material and a final twist that's more than a trifle lurid. Still, there's no shortage of real social anguish for him to play with: official paranoia, government corruption, a political underworld that prizes criminality. The Secret in Their Eyes finds secrets everywhere -- even in what's driving Ben and Irene as they separately examine the decisions they made back in the 1970s. For both of them, as for their country, accurate remembrance of that period is crucial. Neither was an open book, but Ben has now written one, and Irene will insist on some edits.