Akira Kurosawa, on watching Solaris with Andrei Tarkovsky:
"Tarkovsky was sitting in the corner of the screening room watching the film with me, but he got up as soon as the film was over, and looked at me with a shy smile. I said to him, “It’s very good. It’s a frightening movie.” He seemed embarrassed, but smiled happily.
Then the two of us went to a film union restaurant and toasted with vodka. Tarkovsky, who does not usually drink, got completely drunk and cut off the speakers at the restaurant, then began singing the theme of Seven Samurai at the top of his voice. I joined in, eager to keep up.
At that moment I was very happy to be on Earth.”
Pie chart of on-screen coffee sips for each Twin Peaks character, to go with our supercut of all the pie and coffee in Twin Peaks.
Reblogged for Jeremy, Connor, Will, oh hell, just about half the people I know.
Agent Cooper’s pure-bliss-face when sipping coffee could sell a cup of garbage water.
There’s a scene at the end of the SOPRANOS episode “Where’s Johnny,” where Tony is tearfully asking his (at this point fully senile) Uncle Junior if he ever really loved him. Junior, probably slightly less tuned out then he’s pretending, absentmindedly remarks on a nature documentary on TV:
Brazil’s Forgotten Son
One of the characteristics of the Brazilian national team’s reconstruction during the present World Cup cycle is the uneven distribution of quality. There is significant depth in defense (especially in the center) and in defensive midfield, but the pool becomes drastically more shallow as one goes further up the pitch. In attacking positions there is a generational gap as the veterans of yesteryear have given way to inexperienced younger players.
Many members of this lost generation who were supposed to mentor these youngsters on the international stage have either lost their way, or are not of the requisite standard for the national team. (The likes of Vagner Love, Nilmar, and Diego Souza come to mind, among others.) Then there are those have been suffered from not being in the spotlight. Most of these have never been under consideration before, but there is one man who is an exception.
He was once considered to be the future number 10 of the Selecão, but the wilderness of international football has been his abode for nearly four years now. Yet there is an argument to be made that he deserves another chance, not only because of the current dearth of creative talent, but also on merit. It’s time that Brazil remembered its forgotten son, Diego Ribas da Cunha.
The Reality of Racism
“He was born in Italy. He grew up two hours from Milan in a little town named Concesio, taken in by a white Italian couple when he was 3 years old. Balotelli’s birth parents are immigrants from Ghana, and although he looks like them, he sounds like his provincial neighbors, speaking with the well-known Brescian accent… An old underground cartoon sums up the local attitude. It shows a deep trench at the edge of Northern Italy, with a clear message: Let’s get rid of the Africans.”
Whether through oversight or sheer indifference, there’s a tendency in soccer to minimize the significance of racism. Sure, we constantly see headlines outlining the latest incidents, and of course, there are those journalists, fans and players who refuse to let the issue rest, but for every Kevin-Prince Boateng or Mario Balotelli who makes a stand publicly, there are countless other members of the community who unwittingly rationalize bigotry.
“Those fans aren’t representative of the fan-base.”
“Every community has a few idiots.”
“You wouldn’t understand, it’s a cultural issue.”
While each of those statements may be true, they nevertheless downplay how each incident is indicative of social trends. Are those Ultras who use Nazi-insignia part of a fringe group outnumbered by the perfectly reasonable members of the fan sections? Of course. Does their willingness to show their political allegiances in the terraces hint at changing cultural realities? Definitely.
Unfortunately, most works on the topic of racism in football begin and end in the stadium, and rely on simple assumptions as explanations. The number of Neo-Nazis in the fan group is small. Let’s ban them from the stadium, and we’ll have fixed the problem. But the problem goes beyond the pitch, into the homes of every ethnic minority who deals with the stresses of discrimination on a daily basis.
Which is why Wright Thompson’s recent piece investigating the root of racism in Italian soccer is so significant. From sitting with Ultras who still revere Mussolini, cringing under a variety of curse words and Nazi chants thrown towards African players, speaking with Africans stranded in Italy pursuing long impossible careers in soccer, discussing the importance of a new Italian cabinet member, an immigrant from Africa, to the role of nascent political parties and unemployment trends, Thompson tells a complicated story, but one that must be read.
The roots of racism are bubbling to the surface; it’s time we acknowledged them. [Posted by Maxi]
Years ago, when I was still learning how to do comedy, there were times when my big closing bit would not quite get the response that I’d hoped it would. That is to say, I would conclude my set with (what I considered to be) my best, most hilarious piece of material, and, more often than I…