Raul ruiz picasso biography
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The rubicon and the rubik cube: exile, paradox and Raúl Ruiz (from The Gilbert Adair files)
from Sight & Sound Winter 198⅛2, pages 40-44
Editor’s note:
Although Gilbert Adair’s best-known contributions to cinema would be as the source novelist of Love and Death on Long Island (Richard Kwietniowski, 1997) and the self-adapter of The Dreamers (Bernardo Bertolucci, 2003), his longest creative partnership was with Raúl Ruiz, who predeceased Adair by a matter of months. They first collaborated on the ‘philosophical exploitation movie’ The Territory (1981), and Adair would later co-write Klimt (2005) and A Closed Book (2010), the latter based on his novel. This ‘story so far’ look at Ruiz’s already bewilderingly fecund career doubles as a portrait of the artist as a close friend.
— Michael Brooke
To paraphrase the establishing stage direction of Jarry’s Ubu Roi, Raúl Ruiz was born in Chile, i.e. nowhere. Indeed, his earliest memory – so at least he as
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STOCKHOLM MARATHON begins with a tense en plats där en händelse inträffar ofta inom teater eller film of a clearly traumatised girl escaping from a window and walking across the roof of a glasshouse… the glass starts to crack…
It’s effective, though it doesn’t extend itself to breaking point and the music is unhelpful, and then the inevitable slomo… it also has nothing to do with the supposed source novel, The Terrorists, the sista installment of The Story of a Crime, the ten-volume adventures of Martin Beck bygd Maj Sjöwall & Per Wahlöö. uppstart as you mean to go on. The entire movie has nothing to do with the book, despite a Stan Lee type cameo by Sjöwall.
Somebody in charge of this series of (straight-to-video?) Martin Beck films, starring Gosta Ekman, made the decision to remsa out the CONTENT, the political attitude underpinning the detective story. No doubt the filmmakers weren’t Marxists. But you don’t have to be a communist to agree with a lot of the authors’ critiq
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Marcello Mastroianni had a face and personality of which, for half a century, the world and its cinemas never tired. With his matinee idol’s profile and rueful smile, his boyishly twinkling eyes and tranquil air, he became an irresistible magnet for the camera — and for filmmakers, lovers, his fellow actors and a worldwide audience.
So, when we watch the late Italian actor in Raul Ruiz’s “Three Lives and Only One Death,” the last film in Mastroianni’s extraordinary movie career, it’s with a certain sadness. Seeing the final shot of his filmography — an overhead view of Marcello walking away by the banks of the Seine, holding a child’s hand — it’s as if a whole era of international filmmaking were dying along with him. And, indeed, it well may be.
Yet even if that’s so, “Three Lives and Only One Death” is a fitting valedictory, a grand last bow for this gentlest and most tireless of European leading