o filme mais bonito que já vi mas isso é dizer pouco, um dos melhores filmes jamais feitos, talvez seja mais claro. não vou dizer nada sobre esta obra-prima, citações só.
by Arseni Tarkovsky
Each moment of our dates, not many,
We celebrated as an Epiphany.
Alone in the whole world.
More daring and lighter than a bird
Down the stairs, like a dizzy apparition,
You came to take me on your road,
Through rain-soaked lilacs,
To your own possession,
To the looking glass world.
As night descended
I was blessed with grace,
The altar gate opened up,
And in the darkness shining
And slowly reclining
Was your body naked.
On waking up I said:
God bless you!
Although I knew how daring and undue
My blessing was: You were fast asleep,
Your closed eyelids with the universal blue
The lilac on the table so strained to sweep.
Touched by the blue, your lids
Were quite serene, your hand was warm.
And rivers pulsed in crystal slits,
Mountains smoked, and oceans swarmed.
You held a sphere in your palm,
Of crystal; on your throne you were sleeping calm.
And, oh my God! -
Belonging only to me,
You woke and at once transformed
The language humans speak and think.
Speech rushed up sonorously formed,
With the word “you” so much reformed
As to evolve a new sense meaning king.
And suddenly all changed, like in a trance,
Even trivial things, so often used and tried,
When standing 'tween us, guarding us,
Was water, solid, stratified.
It carried us I don’t know where.
Retreating before us, like some mirage,
Were cities, miraculously fair.
Under our feet the mint grass spread,
The birds were following our tread,
The fishes came to a river bend,
And to our eyes the sky was open.
Behind us our fate was groping,
Like an insane man with a razor in his hand.
(translated from the Russian by Tatiana Kameneva)
A Beautiful Day
Beneath the jasmine a stone
marks a buried treasure.
On the path, my father stands.
A beautiful, beautiful day.
The gray poplar blooms,
and milky grass,
and behind it, roses climb.
I have never been
more happy than then.
I have never been more
happy than then.
To return is impossible
and to talk about it, forbidden—
how it was filled with bliss,
that heavenly garden.
daqui, muito bom.
But what might appear confused, difficult, or opaque on first viewing becomes something else with repeated screenings. Having seen Mirror a half-dozen times, over a decade or so, in a number of different countries, it now appears to me as simplicity itself. What at first seems to be an aberration in regards cinematic narration now seems the most organic means of telling a story through the medium of film, through the use of images suffused with movement, time and light. Tarkovsky has described the dramaturgy of Mirror as following “the associative laws of music and poetry” (6), laws that are – at the same time – transformed through their contact with the medium of film.
daqui, Senses of Cinema.
“Mirror is so hypnotic that questions of the film’s alleged impenetrability dissolve under the impact of moment after moment of the most visually stunning, rhythmically captivating filmmaking imaginable.”
Maximilian Le Cain em www.sensesofcinema.com
este filme é mais eu do que eu.
“My discovery of [his] first film was like a miracle,” recalled Ingmar Bergman. “Suddenly, I found myself standing at the door of a room the keys of which had, until then, never been given to me.”