Ada Tudor
Just feelin' the beat…
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O alternativa la realitate (1)
A vorbi despre un regizor este intotdeauna dificil. Deoarece fiecare are ceva de spus. Dar cand e vorba de Tim Burton, nu ai cum sa ramai indiferent. Fara sa vrei, devii critic, deoarece filmele sale sunt menite sa nasca reactii.
O biografie a sa ar fi inutila si plictisitoare. Se poate gasi pe toate site-urile de specialitate si nu numai (mai putin pe pagina lui). Dar probabil ar trebui mentionat ca nu a avut parte de o copilarie foarte fericita. Era acel tip de copil evitat de toti, nedorit in grupurile altora. Acel ciudat al cartierului de care toti copiii radeau. Crescut intr-o suburbie californiana, acea zona a Americii unde parca niciodata nu se intampla nimic, tanarul Burton dezvolta o pasiune pentru desenele macabre. Ii placeau filmele horror, era mare fan al monstrilor (ex.: Godzilla) si nu rata niciun desen animat stop-motion (tehnica fotografica in care obiectele neanimate par sa se miste).
Povestile lui sunt redate de imagini. Zic povesti deoarece in asta constau filmele sale. El creeaza povesti neobisnuite, cu subiecte ciudate, dar foarte expresive prin puterea pe care o da imaginii. Inca de la primul sau film, realizat in 1982, (Vincent) textul este doar un sprijin pentru ceea ce se desfasoara pe ecran.
Filmele lui Tim nu sunt genul acela specific hollywoodian. Nu intalnesti stereotipii clasice, povesti de dragoste trase de par, ce te duc la exasperare prin previzibilitatea lor. Si unele dintre ele nici nu au happy-end. Sunt filme cu impact puternic asupra psihicului uman, ori prin tristetea lor, ori prin brutalitatea lor (nu multa lume suporta sa vada atata sange cat este expus in Sweeney Todd, de exemplu) sau chiar prin ciudatenia lor (sa ne aducem aminte de Edward Scissorhands sau de Beetle Juice).
Povestile sale sunt mereu despre inadaptati, oameni care nu sunt acceptati de societate. Dar maniera in care sunt prezentati ii face sa fie indragiti de public pana in punctul in care normalitatea ti se pare bizara, suspecta si de nedorit. Viata din suburbii, unde totul trebuie sa fie perfect, unde toata lumea cunoaste pe toata lumea si nimeni nu poate avea un secret, acel tip de viata idilic, dar apasator in realitate – aici se petrece actiunea “basmelor”. In locul unde cea mai mica gresela este privita cu ochi critic si orice miscare este judecata.
Imi place atmosfera gloomy pe care o au toate filmele sale. Poate si pentru ca sunt satula de atata lumina specifica majoritatii filmelor americane. O lume intunecata, plina de pericole, murdara, cetoasa. Realitatea vazuta prin obiectiv si putin exagerata. Fiecare film al lui Tim Burton ma poarta parca in lumea imaginata a lui Sherlock Holmes (sunt o mare fana a scrierilor lui Arthur Conan Doyle), dar si in alt univers.
Si pentru ca un artist nu este complet decat daca mai si compune, va las mai jos o mostra a poeziilor lui. Asa… ca de final de post.
To be continued…
The Melancholy death of Oyster boy
He proposed in the dunes,
they were wed by the sea,
Their nine-day-long honeymoon
was on the isle of Capri.
For their supper they had one specatular dish-
a simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
her bride’s heart made a wish.
That wish came true-she gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human
Well, maybe.
Ten fingers, ten toes,
he had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
but normal?
Not quite.
This unnatural birth, this canker, this blight,
was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.
She railed at the doctor:
“He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine.”
“You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
you cannot blame me.
… have you ever considered, by chance,
a small home by the sea?”
Not knowing what to name him,
they just called him Sam,
or sometimes,
“that thing that looks like a clam”
Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?
When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
they called him a bivalve and ran quickly away.
One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main,
he watched the rain water as it swirled
down the drain.
His mom on the freeway
in the breakdown lane
was pouding the dashboard-
she couldn’t contain
the ever-rising grief,
frustration,
and pain.
“Really, sweetheart,” she said
“I don’t mean to make fun,
but something smells fishy
and I think it’s our son.
I don’t like to say this, but it must be said,
you’re blaming our son for your problems in bed.”
He tried salves, he tried ointments
that turned everything red.
He tried potions and lotions
and tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled.
The doctor diagnosed,
“I can’t quite be sure,
but the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
would help you do it for hours!”
He came on tiptoe,
he came on the sly,
sweat on his forehead,
and on his lips-a lie.
“Son, are you happy? I don’t mean to pry,
but do you dream of Heaven?
Have you ever wanted to die?
Sam blinked his eye twice.
but made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie.
As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam slipped down his throat.
They burried him quickly in the sand by the sea
-sighed a prayer, wept a tear-
and they were back home by three.
A cross of greay driftwood marked Oyster Boy’s grave.
Words writ in the sand
promised Jesus would save.
But his memory was lost with one high-tide wave.
Tags: beetle juice, oyster boy, sweeney todd, tim burton, vincent
Februarie 26th, 2010 at 2:12 am
excelent! informat, pertinent, fara judecati de valoare inutile! atat cat sa atraga atentia si sa astept continuarea… si pana atunci vreu sa vad si filmele mentionate, ca sa-mi fac propria parere!
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