I-Can't-Believe-Its-Butter
Hit up the Revival Theater in Manhattan to see one of the most controversial films ever made - Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider in Bertolluci's Last Tango in Paris.
Daddy had told me that this was a "different" film, when I was a kid, and of course, too young to watch it. But, this self-destructive romance is much more than an art-house movie. It explores needs on a much more meta-physical level. Of course, its sordid and graphic, but sometimes that's what life is. Marlon Brando outdoes himself, especially in the wake scene, by his wife's deathbed. The ending is a kick in the shins. Altogether, this piece of art from the '70s still has as much of spunk and tight-fist-punch potential to your psyche as any movie that this millennium will ever see. Although most say that this can be attributed to its graphic nature, I would have to attribute it to its realism. Its ability to bring some of the most tucked-away thoughts onto centerstage.
Although I disagree with Roger Ebert ,when he said that this was the end of its genre. Many of Kubrick's and Polanski's sequences, especially Bitter Moon, were more or less inspired by Tango. It was pretty much an awakening, where directors became less afraid to depict. Wake-up call.
Also, paid homage to THREE classic Jean-Georges joints for brunch, cocktails and dinner - 66, JoJo and Nougatine. Much respect to the Sultan of Ambience and Foodery.
No comments:
Post a Comment