Un Condenado a Muerte se ha Escapado (1956) de Bresson.
Un Condenado a Muerte se ha Escapado (1956) de Bresson.
Robert Bresson on Un condamné à mort s’est échappé (1956)
(Source: voyeurreveur)
Robert Bresson and Paul Schrader chat about TAXI DRIVER
i found this bit of dialogue, from an interview presumably conducted in the spring of 1976, in James Quandt’s book Robert Bresson. i was digging around doing research for a spectacularly useless essay i wrote last week called: “The World is Flat: Au Hasard Balthazar and Filming the Divine,” and i was struck by Schrader’s confidence at Taxi Driver winning the Palme D’Or (it did), and how Scorsese’s friendship with De Niro inspired his confidence.
i wonder how he would have directed it?
(Source: film-dot-com, via lettertojane)
"Filmación. Tu película debe parecerse a la que ves cuando cierras los ojos."
- Robert Bresson.
(Source: glittercoatedflowers, via atadoamilenguaje)
Robert Bresson on the set of Au hasard Balthazar.
What is Bresson’s genre? He doesn’t have one. Bresson is Bresson. He is a genre in himself. Antonioni, Fellini, Bergman, Kurosawa, Dovzhenko, Vigo, Mizoguchi, Buñuel—each is identified with himself. The very concept of genre is as cold as the tomb. And is Chaplin—comedy? No: he is Chaplin, pure and simple; a unique phenomenon, never to be repeated. He is unadulterated hyperbole; but above all he stuns us at every moment of his screen existence with the truth of his hero’s behavior. In the most absurd situation Chaplin is completely natural; and that is why he is funny. His hero seems not to notice the hyperbolized world around him, nor its weird logic. Chaplin is such a classic, so complete in himself, that he might have died three hundred years ago.
What could be more ridiculous or less probable than someone starting inadvertently to eat, along with his spaghetti, paper streamers hanging down from the ceiling? Yet with Chaplin the action is live, naturalistic. We know the whole thing is made up and exaggerated, but in his performance the hyperbole is utterly naturalistic and probable, and therefore convincing—and superbly funny. He doesn’t play. He lives those idiotic situations, is an organic part of them.
— Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in Time
(Source: strangewood, via lettertojane)
Pickpocket!
