Nao e massa aquele tipo de pessoa que teve condicoes de estudar, fez
faculdade e tudo mais, porem nao consegue sair do circuito novela das oito,
raul Gil, Tribalistas?
Que coisa deprimente a falta de consciencia em procurar entender a situacao
na qual nosso brilhante pais esta inserido. Temos gente aos borbotoes
cultuando bandas que copiam ate o osso coisas de fora, e ninguem nem
imagina que isso acontece. Temos também os genios da musica popular produzindo em
um nivel sofrivel e todo mundo babando ovo.
A informacao simplesmente nao chega, nao circula! E note, estamos falando
de uma epoca na qual a internet e ferramenta diaria dos elementos supra
citados.
E triste, muito triste. "Sou Brasileiro e gosto das coisas feitas aqui,
mesmo que sejam um lixo." Quer dizer neguinho nem tem nocao que a coisa nao
presta, pois nao tem referencia para comparacao.
Puta falta de senso critico. E isso na minha opiniao contribui para a
continuidade da mediocridade reinante.
Repetindo: estou falando de gente que fez faculdade de primeira linha. Tem
acesso a informacao, etc.
Abre os olhos mane!!
E olha que tem muita gente com muitissimo menos condicoes que e antenado e
consegue furar o bloqueio imposto pelo "homem" (como diria Black Jack).
A coisa é extensa. Mais pitacos em breve!
quarta-feira, agosto 11, 2004
NYT
The Pixies Get Their Act Together
Published: August 8, 2004
(Page 2 of 3)
The songs are full of musical and verbal non sequiturs, but skewed as they
were, a decade and a half later they sound like irrepressible pop. And at a
time when rock has grown sodden with earnestness and self-pity, the Pixies'
songs sound like a corrective; they're smart, lightheaded, profound and
comic, and they rock with a vengeance.
That was the idea from the beginning. "I got exposed to some Surrealist
films of the 1920's and 30's and 40's or whatever in college, read a couple
of articles, attended a couple of lectures," Mr. Thompson said in an
interview between shows in London. "And I applied all of that in a really
fumbly kind of way to having a rock band. It was going to be quirky but in
a really simple, brief, swift fashion. It was like, `Oh yeah, I'm going to
add something or I'm going to take something away so that it's a little bit
lopsided or whatever.' Because when it's just a foursquare thing, it at
least stands a 50-50 chance of being boring, cliche-ridden,
heard-it-before. When you lop off one corner of it, well, I don't know if
it's boring or not. But it's definitely something that you've not heard
before.
"Now people pursue rock music, and they go, `I have something important to
say, and here's what it is, and ooh, I'm singing it from my heart, too.'
And it's all too serious. And people totally miss out. They totally miss
the fun, Jabberwocky, fun-with-language, fun-with-poetry."
From the beginning, the Pixies were diligent. They practiced five hours a
day, four days a week, in Mr. Lovering's garage. "We wouldn't be able to
play if we didn't figure out what we were going to play," Ms. Deal
recalled. "We could not jam. I still can't jam."
They invested $1,500 to make a demo tape that eventually yielded songs for
the band's punk-flavored 1987 debut EP, "Come On Pilgrim." With the
producer Gil Norton polishing their dynamics, the Pixies went on to make
two indelible albums, "Surfer Rosa" (1988) and "Doolittle" (1989), and two
solid ones, "Bossanova" (1990) and "Trompe le Monde" (1991). And they
toured steadily for five years, from hole-in-the-wall punk clubs to
European rock festivals.
The grind of traveling gradually frayed the band. "It's intense being on
tour," Mr. Thompson said. "You're cooped up in a bus with a bunch of
different personalities - people you know, people you don't know. You're on
a weird time schedule. Sometimes there's a lot of drinking and drugs and
all, sleep deprivation. It's kind of a weird situation."
By the end of a final tour, opening for U2 and facing audiences that barely
knew them, Mr. Thompson was no longer speaking to Ms. Deal. In 1992, he
dissolved the Pixies via faxes sent from his manager's office. "If I would
have called a meeting or something, then it would have just kind of
devolved into this big discussion," he said " `Oh, come on, Charles. Don't
do this right now.' And I just wasn't up for that. I was just, like, I'm
done. I'm done. Goodbye. There's no discussion, you know what I mean?"
Ms. Deal went on to start the Breeders, who had a million-selling album in
1993 with "Last Splash" but struggled to follow through. Mr. Thompson
renamed himself Frank Black and started writing more straightforward songs
than his Pixies material; Mr. Santiago worked on and off with Frank Black's
bands and started a band called the Martinis with Mr. Lovering in the
mid-90's. More recently, Mr. Lovering gave up drums and was scraping out a
living as a magician until the call came to rejoin the Pixies. He still
keeps a deck of cards close at hand and has sometimes been the Pixies'
opening act. "I love the Pixies," he tells crowds who may not recognize his
name. "I've been to every one of their shows."
The Pixies reunion, Mr. Thompson said, started as a joke. Or maybe it
wasn't exactly a joke, but some combination of wish and strategy. He isn't
about to say. But last July, while on tour with his own band, he was doing
an interview on a London radio station when he was asked the question he
had been asked in every interview he had given for the last 12 years: Would
the Pixies ever reunite? And for the first time, he allowed that there just
might be the possibility of a reunion.
The Pixies Get Their Act Together
Published: August 8, 2004
(Page 3 of 3)
The news zipped across the Internet to fans who had been waiting since the
Pixies ended their six-year career in 1992, and anticipation started to
build. Mr. Thompson had joked with the interviewer that the Pixies were
still jamming and working on new songs, but he also said that any time he
envisioned a Pixies reunion, it was like the classic anxiety dream of being
unprepared in public. Still, in August he quietly held some strategy
meetings with his manager and booking agent. He called Mr. Santiago, who
called Ms. Deal. "I just went, `Oh really?' " Ms. Deal said. "But Joe was
telling me, `This could be a change of school district for me. This is
important to me.' And because of that I said I'd do it."
The band members, now in their 30's and 40's, are temperate on tour these
days. Over dinner, Mr. Thompson and Ms. Deal drank nonalcoholic beer. In
London, Mr. Santiago was joined by his pregnant wife, Linda, and his
year-old daughter; Mr. Lovering played host to his parents.
The Pixies have recorded a new song together, written by Ms. Deal, called
"Bam Thwok," which was originally written for the soundtrack to "Shrek 2."
But the movie company chose a song by Counting Crows instead, and "Bam
Thwok" ended up helping to inaugurate the European version of iTunes.
Marc Geiger of the William Morris Agency, the band's longtime agent, says
he is hoping the Pixies will record a new album early next year. "I have
thought of that concept, yes," Mr. Black said. "I wouldn't mind asking Tom
Waits to produce us. Why not? I like the way his records sound."
But the band members are resolutely not looking ahead. They have kept the
tour as familiar as possible; not just the songs but their business
associates, lighting director and sound man are the same as they were the
first time around. In Brixton, even the backstage caterer was the same as
on the Pixies' last visit to the same theater in 1991.
"There's surprisingly little deja vu on this tour," Mr. Thompson said.
"It's more like just a continuation. It's like there's a bunch of songs. We
played them to death in the late 80's and early 90's for a period of about
five years. So, a bit of a long sabbatical. Now we're playing them again.
And there really isn't any mystery."
Published: August 8, 2004
(Page 2 of 3)
The songs are full of musical and verbal non sequiturs, but skewed as they
were, a decade and a half later they sound like irrepressible pop. And at a
time when rock has grown sodden with earnestness and self-pity, the Pixies'
songs sound like a corrective; they're smart, lightheaded, profound and
comic, and they rock with a vengeance.
That was the idea from the beginning. "I got exposed to some Surrealist
films of the 1920's and 30's and 40's or whatever in college, read a couple
of articles, attended a couple of lectures," Mr. Thompson said in an
interview between shows in London. "And I applied all of that in a really
fumbly kind of way to having a rock band. It was going to be quirky but in
a really simple, brief, swift fashion. It was like, `Oh yeah, I'm going to
add something or I'm going to take something away so that it's a little bit
lopsided or whatever.' Because when it's just a foursquare thing, it at
least stands a 50-50 chance of being boring, cliche-ridden,
heard-it-before. When you lop off one corner of it, well, I don't know if
it's boring or not. But it's definitely something that you've not heard
before.
"Now people pursue rock music, and they go, `I have something important to
say, and here's what it is, and ooh, I'm singing it from my heart, too.'
And it's all too serious. And people totally miss out. They totally miss
the fun, Jabberwocky, fun-with-language, fun-with-poetry."
From the beginning, the Pixies were diligent. They practiced five hours a
day, four days a week, in Mr. Lovering's garage. "We wouldn't be able to
play if we didn't figure out what we were going to play," Ms. Deal
recalled. "We could not jam. I still can't jam."
They invested $1,500 to make a demo tape that eventually yielded songs for
the band's punk-flavored 1987 debut EP, "Come On Pilgrim." With the
producer Gil Norton polishing their dynamics, the Pixies went on to make
two indelible albums, "Surfer Rosa" (1988) and "Doolittle" (1989), and two
solid ones, "Bossanova" (1990) and "Trompe le Monde" (1991). And they
toured steadily for five years, from hole-in-the-wall punk clubs to
European rock festivals.
The grind of traveling gradually frayed the band. "It's intense being on
tour," Mr. Thompson said. "You're cooped up in a bus with a bunch of
different personalities - people you know, people you don't know. You're on
a weird time schedule. Sometimes there's a lot of drinking and drugs and
all, sleep deprivation. It's kind of a weird situation."
By the end of a final tour, opening for U2 and facing audiences that barely
knew them, Mr. Thompson was no longer speaking to Ms. Deal. In 1992, he
dissolved the Pixies via faxes sent from his manager's office. "If I would
have called a meeting or something, then it would have just kind of
devolved into this big discussion," he said " `Oh, come on, Charles. Don't
do this right now.' And I just wasn't up for that. I was just, like, I'm
done. I'm done. Goodbye. There's no discussion, you know what I mean?"
Ms. Deal went on to start the Breeders, who had a million-selling album in
1993 with "Last Splash" but struggled to follow through. Mr. Thompson
renamed himself Frank Black and started writing more straightforward songs
than his Pixies material; Mr. Santiago worked on and off with Frank Black's
bands and started a band called the Martinis with Mr. Lovering in the
mid-90's. More recently, Mr. Lovering gave up drums and was scraping out a
living as a magician until the call came to rejoin the Pixies. He still
keeps a deck of cards close at hand and has sometimes been the Pixies'
opening act. "I love the Pixies," he tells crowds who may not recognize his
name. "I've been to every one of their shows."
The Pixies reunion, Mr. Thompson said, started as a joke. Or maybe it
wasn't exactly a joke, but some combination of wish and strategy. He isn't
about to say. But last July, while on tour with his own band, he was doing
an interview on a London radio station when he was asked the question he
had been asked in every interview he had given for the last 12 years: Would
the Pixies ever reunite? And for the first time, he allowed that there just
might be the possibility of a reunion.
The Pixies Get Their Act Together
Published: August 8, 2004
(Page 3 of 3)
The news zipped across the Internet to fans who had been waiting since the
Pixies ended their six-year career in 1992, and anticipation started to
build. Mr. Thompson had joked with the interviewer that the Pixies were
still jamming and working on new songs, but he also said that any time he
envisioned a Pixies reunion, it was like the classic anxiety dream of being
unprepared in public. Still, in August he quietly held some strategy
meetings with his manager and booking agent. He called Mr. Santiago, who
called Ms. Deal. "I just went, `Oh really?' " Ms. Deal said. "But Joe was
telling me, `This could be a change of school district for me. This is
important to me.' And because of that I said I'd do it."
The band members, now in their 30's and 40's, are temperate on tour these
days. Over dinner, Mr. Thompson and Ms. Deal drank nonalcoholic beer. In
London, Mr. Santiago was joined by his pregnant wife, Linda, and his
year-old daughter; Mr. Lovering played host to his parents.
The Pixies have recorded a new song together, written by Ms. Deal, called
"Bam Thwok," which was originally written for the soundtrack to "Shrek 2."
But the movie company chose a song by Counting Crows instead, and "Bam
Thwok" ended up helping to inaugurate the European version of iTunes.
Marc Geiger of the William Morris Agency, the band's longtime agent, says
he is hoping the Pixies will record a new album early next year. "I have
thought of that concept, yes," Mr. Black said. "I wouldn't mind asking Tom
Waits to produce us. Why not? I like the way his records sound."
But the band members are resolutely not looking ahead. They have kept the
tour as familiar as possible; not just the songs but their business
associates, lighting director and sound man are the same as they were the
first time around. In Brixton, even the backstage caterer was the same as
on the Pixies' last visit to the same theater in 1991.
"There's surprisingly little deja vu on this tour," Mr. Thompson said.
"It's more like just a continuation. It's like there's a bunch of songs. We
played them to death in the late 80's and early 90's for a period of about
five years. So, a bit of a long sabbatical. Now we're playing them again.
And there really isn't any mystery."
From NYT
The Pixies Get Their Act Together
By JON PARELES
Published: August 8, 2004
LONDON
MIDWAY through one of their four instantly sold-out concerts in June at the
Brixton Academy in London, the reunited Pixies charged into "Monkey Gone to
Heaven," a song about apocalypse and faith. The audience - some who had
seen the Pixies between 1986 and 1992, and an equal contingent of younger
fans getting their first glimpse - all knew what to do as Frank Black
started to sing the song's reverse countdown: "If man is five/ Then the
devil is six/ And if the devil is six/ Then God is seven."
At 39, he looked less like a rock star than ever: bald, portly, dressed in
a shapeless T-shirt. He barely glanced at Kim Deal, 43, the band's bassist
and occasional singer. Yet as he worked his way from a strangled, nasal
whine to a shriek, the whole room sang along, and thousands of hands shot
into the air with fingers raised on cue: five, six, seven. The crowd
couldn't have been more enthusiastic if the song, released in 1989, were in
the current Top 10.
The Pixies have been rapturously received since they started touring in
April, and have been one of the few unqualified successes in a summer
filled with foundering tours. Reunions are a staple in the concert
business, as acts from Simon and Garfunkel to the Eagles to Duran Duran to
the Sex Pistols periodically reappear. Affection for the oldies is one
draw; so is the possibility that every reunion is the last chance to see a
group. Nostalgia seems to peak after two decades, and lately the postpunk
bands of the 1980's have been regrouping - among them, Mission of Burma,
which sold out a club tour last year and went on to make a new album.
But the response to the Pixies reunion has been greater by orders of
magnitude. It wasn't just the shows in smaller venues that sold so briskly;
more than 50,000 tickets were snapped up for the Pixies' day at the
Coachella festival, and theaters around the United States have quickly sold
out for multiple dates. The Pixies were to perform at the New York stop of
the Lollapalooza Festival this month, which had already sold 11,000 tickets
when the entire tour was canceled. Instead, they will have New York dates
on Dec. 12 and 13 at the Hammerstein Ballroom. Meanwhile, the company
DiscLive has been offering instant live recordings of every concert by the
reunited group. Those CD's, in numbered limited editions of 1,000 or 2,000,
are selling out, too, and turning into instant collectors' items available
for handsome mark-up on eBay.
Charles Michael Kittredge Thompson IV, a k a Frank Black, who called
himself Black Francis on the Pixies' recordings, claimed to be unimpressed.
Pixies audiences were enthusiastic for most of the group's initial career,
he said. Now, he added, there are more curiosity-seekers. "I'm wondering if
there's a large section of the audience that kind of isn't really getting
it," he said. "That's good. It gives us an opportunity to preach to the
still-not-converted."
It's an arty underdog's attitude that seems to be a holdover from the
band's first time around. The Pixies, who got started in Boston in 1986,
became hit-makers in England and Europe. Yet in the United States, they
never quite broke out of the collegiate rock circuit, even after they were
signed to a major label, Elektra. Those who discovered the Pixies have
cherished their catalog ever since. When the band played Coachella on May
1, one visitor's license plate read, "DEBASR," for "Debaser," the Pixies
song about (among other things) the Surrealist film "Un Chien Andalou."
Black Francis's songs for the Pixies were terse but wild-eyed. As he sang
about the Bible, science fiction, incest or immigration, the music could
sound like punk or country, surf-rock or metal. Joey Santiago's lead guitar
laced the music with twangy little hooks or solos that threatened to skid
right out of the song; Ms. Deal answered Black Francis's hopped-up vocals
with calm, airy responses, and David Lovering's drums paced the music from
brisk to quasi-Latin to booming. Quiet verses suddenly gave way to howling,
stomping choruses - a tactic that would be commandeered by the Pixies' most
influential and grateful fan, Kurt Cobain of Nirvana.
By JON PARELES
Published: August 8, 2004
LONDON
MIDWAY through one of their four instantly sold-out concerts in June at the
Brixton Academy in London, the reunited Pixies charged into "Monkey Gone to
Heaven," a song about apocalypse and faith. The audience - some who had
seen the Pixies between 1986 and 1992, and an equal contingent of younger
fans getting their first glimpse - all knew what to do as Frank Black
started to sing the song's reverse countdown: "If man is five/ Then the
devil is six/ And if the devil is six/ Then God is seven."
At 39, he looked less like a rock star than ever: bald, portly, dressed in
a shapeless T-shirt. He barely glanced at Kim Deal, 43, the band's bassist
and occasional singer. Yet as he worked his way from a strangled, nasal
whine to a shriek, the whole room sang along, and thousands of hands shot
into the air with fingers raised on cue: five, six, seven. The crowd
couldn't have been more enthusiastic if the song, released in 1989, were in
the current Top 10.
The Pixies have been rapturously received since they started touring in
April, and have been one of the few unqualified successes in a summer
filled with foundering tours. Reunions are a staple in the concert
business, as acts from Simon and Garfunkel to the Eagles to Duran Duran to
the Sex Pistols periodically reappear. Affection for the oldies is one
draw; so is the possibility that every reunion is the last chance to see a
group. Nostalgia seems to peak after two decades, and lately the postpunk
bands of the 1980's have been regrouping - among them, Mission of Burma,
which sold out a club tour last year and went on to make a new album.
But the response to the Pixies reunion has been greater by orders of
magnitude. It wasn't just the shows in smaller venues that sold so briskly;
more than 50,000 tickets were snapped up for the Pixies' day at the
Coachella festival, and theaters around the United States have quickly sold
out for multiple dates. The Pixies were to perform at the New York stop of
the Lollapalooza Festival this month, which had already sold 11,000 tickets
when the entire tour was canceled. Instead, they will have New York dates
on Dec. 12 and 13 at the Hammerstein Ballroom. Meanwhile, the company
DiscLive has been offering instant live recordings of every concert by the
reunited group. Those CD's, in numbered limited editions of 1,000 or 2,000,
are selling out, too, and turning into instant collectors' items available
for handsome mark-up on eBay.
Charles Michael Kittredge Thompson IV, a k a Frank Black, who called
himself Black Francis on the Pixies' recordings, claimed to be unimpressed.
Pixies audiences were enthusiastic for most of the group's initial career,
he said. Now, he added, there are more curiosity-seekers. "I'm wondering if
there's a large section of the audience that kind of isn't really getting
it," he said. "That's good. It gives us an opportunity to preach to the
still-not-converted."
It's an arty underdog's attitude that seems to be a holdover from the
band's first time around. The Pixies, who got started in Boston in 1986,
became hit-makers in England and Europe. Yet in the United States, they
never quite broke out of the collegiate rock circuit, even after they were
signed to a major label, Elektra. Those who discovered the Pixies have
cherished their catalog ever since. When the band played Coachella on May
1, one visitor's license plate read, "DEBASR," for "Debaser," the Pixies
song about (among other things) the Surrealist film "Un Chien Andalou."
Black Francis's songs for the Pixies were terse but wild-eyed. As he sang
about the Bible, science fiction, incest or immigration, the music could
sound like punk or country, surf-rock or metal. Joey Santiago's lead guitar
laced the music with twangy little hooks or solos that threatened to skid
right out of the song; Ms. Deal answered Black Francis's hopped-up vocals
with calm, airy responses, and David Lovering's drums paced the music from
brisk to quasi-Latin to booming. Quiet verses suddenly gave way to howling,
stomping choruses - a tactic that would be commandeered by the Pixies' most
influential and grateful fan, Kurt Cobain of Nirvana.
terça-feira, agosto 10, 2004
pixies
Noticia bombastica para fas de Pixies: a cultuadissima banda esta
planejando para 2005 o seu primeiro album de ineditas desde "Trompe Le
Monde" (1991). A informacao foi dada por um dos agentes da banda ao jornal
New York Times na semana passada. Segundo a materia, o vocalista e
guitarrista Black Francis ja teria ate revelado quem ele gostaria que
produzisse o disco: ninguem menos que o veterano cantor Tom Waits. "Gosto
do jeito que seus discos soam", disse Francis.
O Pixies encerrou suas atividades em 1993, em meio a conflitos internos
entre seus quatro integrantes - alem de Francis, o guitarrista Joey
Santiago, a baixista e vocalista Kim Deal e o baterista James Lovering. De
volta aos palcos em abril, a banda segue em uma enorme turne que ja passou
por diversos paises, inclusive o Brasil, no Curitiba Pop Festival 2004. A
primeira faixa inedita da nova fase, "Bam Thwok", foi recentemente lancada
em site de download pago.
planejando para 2005 o seu primeiro album de ineditas desde "Trompe Le
Monde" (1991). A informacao foi dada por um dos agentes da banda ao jornal
New York Times na semana passada. Segundo a materia, o vocalista e
guitarrista Black Francis ja teria ate revelado quem ele gostaria que
produzisse o disco: ninguem menos que o veterano cantor Tom Waits. "Gosto
do jeito que seus discos soam", disse Francis.
O Pixies encerrou suas atividades em 1993, em meio a conflitos internos
entre seus quatro integrantes - alem de Francis, o guitarrista Joey
Santiago, a baixista e vocalista Kim Deal e o baterista James Lovering. De
volta aos palcos em abril, a banda segue em uma enorme turne que ja passou
por diversos paises, inclusive o Brasil, no Curitiba Pop Festival 2004. A
primeira faixa inedita da nova fase, "Bam Thwok", foi recentemente lancada
em site de download pago.
segunda-feira, agosto 09, 2004
apjr
ESCUTA AQUI
O escroque "do bem"
Ã?LVARO PEREIRA JÃ?NIOR
Se eu fosse documentarista, faria um documentário sobre
Michael Moore, diretor de "Farenheit 9/11" e "Tiros em
Columbine". Meu documentário, assim como os de Moore,
defenderia uma tese. No caso, a de que Michael Moore é um
escroque, ainda que "do bem".
Meu filme abordaria a relação de Moore com seus empregados.
Daria closes nos contracheques de seus funcionários e
compararia os salários com a média do mercado americano.
Também acompanharia a rotina de trabalho do pessoal.
Mostraria se são bem tratados, se almoçam, se têm folgas. Eu
perguntaria a Michael Moore, na lata, como ele faz em seus
filmes, se ele permite que seus funcionários se sindicalizem.
Meu documentário daria especial atenção aos seus métodos de
trabalho. Deixaria as câmeras grudadas em Moore durante a
edição de um filme dele. Para explicar, por exemplo, como
Moore trata áudio e vÃdeo. Será que, fiel à realidade, ele só
usa áudio que corresponde à imagem gravada? Ou, às vezes,
mistura áudio e vÃdeo de situações diferentes, só pelo efeito
dramático?
Filmagens de planos e contraplanos também seriam dissecadas
em meu documentário. Quando Moore saÃsse para uma entrevista,
eu e meu cinegrafista irÃamos junto. Sabe para quê? Para ver
se ele realmente faz aquelas perguntas cara a cara com os
entrevistados, ou se primeiro Moore grava a entrevista e,
depois que o entrevistado vai embora, filma os chamados
contraplanos, em que ele, Moore, agora sozinho, formula as
questões como bem entende (e depois a edição finge que se
trata de uma única situação).
Meu documentário traria uma longa entrevista com Moore. Eu
perguntaria que tipo de formação polÃtica ele tem. Que livros
leu, qual pensador mais o influenciou. Imagino que Moore
tenha posições polÃticas muito mais profundas do que o
presidente Bush, que ele adora mostrar como um completo
imbecil.
Por fim, eu faria uma investigação sobre um recente episódio
envolvendo Michael Moore e o guitarrista Pete Towshend, do
The Who. Segundo o jornal escocês "The Scotsman", Moore anda
espalhando que Towshend é a favor da invasão do Iraque, só
porque o músico se negou a ceder a canção "Won't Get Fooled
Again" (nunca mais vão me enganar) para a trilha
de "Farenheit 9/11".
No "Scotsman", Towshend chama Moore de "provocador" e
fulmina: "Parece-me que esse aspecto de seu caráter não o faz
diferente daquele homem poderoso e teimoso que está no centro
de seu novo documentário".
Ou seja: Towshend compara Michael Moore a George Bush. Como
eu faria no meu documentário.
--------------------------------------------------------------
------------------
�lvaro Pereira Júnior, 41, é editor-chefe do "Fantástico" em
São Paulo
E-mail: cby2k@uol.com.br
CD PLAYER
PLAY - "Mass Destruction", Faithless
Essa é a música que bomba nas rádios gringas bacanas. Dub
acelerado, para dançar até cair, sobre uma letra que detona
Bush sem perdão. Mandou bem o Faithless.
PAUSE - "Party Crashers", Radio 4
A segunda música que mais bomba nas rádios gringas bacanas.
Radio 4, minha banda predileta de NYC, embarcou demais no
punk funk de seus conterrâneos do Rapture.
EJECT - Platéias do filme "Farenheit 9/11"
Na definição de um amigo, as sessões brasileiras acontecem em
clima de comÃcio: há quem bata palmas durante o filme! A
esquerda infantil adora a pieguice...
__________________________________________________________________________
Acabe com aquelas janelinhas que pulam na sua tela.
AntiPop-up UOL - � grátis!
http://antipopup.uol.com.br/
O escroque "do bem"
Ã?LVARO PEREIRA JÃ?NIOR
Se eu fosse documentarista, faria um documentário sobre
Michael Moore, diretor de "Farenheit 9/11" e "Tiros em
Columbine". Meu documentário, assim como os de Moore,
defenderia uma tese. No caso, a de que Michael Moore é um
escroque, ainda que "do bem".
Meu filme abordaria a relação de Moore com seus empregados.
Daria closes nos contracheques de seus funcionários e
compararia os salários com a média do mercado americano.
Também acompanharia a rotina de trabalho do pessoal.
Mostraria se são bem tratados, se almoçam, se têm folgas. Eu
perguntaria a Michael Moore, na lata, como ele faz em seus
filmes, se ele permite que seus funcionários se sindicalizem.
Meu documentário daria especial atenção aos seus métodos de
trabalho. Deixaria as câmeras grudadas em Moore durante a
edição de um filme dele. Para explicar, por exemplo, como
Moore trata áudio e vÃdeo. Será que, fiel à realidade, ele só
usa áudio que corresponde à imagem gravada? Ou, às vezes,
mistura áudio e vÃdeo de situações diferentes, só pelo efeito
dramático?
Filmagens de planos e contraplanos também seriam dissecadas
em meu documentário. Quando Moore saÃsse para uma entrevista,
eu e meu cinegrafista irÃamos junto. Sabe para quê? Para ver
se ele realmente faz aquelas perguntas cara a cara com os
entrevistados, ou se primeiro Moore grava a entrevista e,
depois que o entrevistado vai embora, filma os chamados
contraplanos, em que ele, Moore, agora sozinho, formula as
questões como bem entende (e depois a edição finge que se
trata de uma única situação).
Meu documentário traria uma longa entrevista com Moore. Eu
perguntaria que tipo de formação polÃtica ele tem. Que livros
leu, qual pensador mais o influenciou. Imagino que Moore
tenha posições polÃticas muito mais profundas do que o
presidente Bush, que ele adora mostrar como um completo
imbecil.
Por fim, eu faria uma investigação sobre um recente episódio
envolvendo Michael Moore e o guitarrista Pete Towshend, do
The Who. Segundo o jornal escocês "The Scotsman", Moore anda
espalhando que Towshend é a favor da invasão do Iraque, só
porque o músico se negou a ceder a canção "Won't Get Fooled
Again" (nunca mais vão me enganar) para a trilha
de "Farenheit 9/11".
No "Scotsman", Towshend chama Moore de "provocador" e
fulmina: "Parece-me que esse aspecto de seu caráter não o faz
diferente daquele homem poderoso e teimoso que está no centro
de seu novo documentário".
Ou seja: Towshend compara Michael Moore a George Bush. Como
eu faria no meu documentário.
--------------------------------------------------------------
------------------
�lvaro Pereira Júnior, 41, é editor-chefe do "Fantástico" em
São Paulo
E-mail: cby2k@uol.com.br
CD PLAYER
PLAY - "Mass Destruction", Faithless
Essa é a música que bomba nas rádios gringas bacanas. Dub
acelerado, para dançar até cair, sobre uma letra que detona
Bush sem perdão. Mandou bem o Faithless.
PAUSE - "Party Crashers", Radio 4
A segunda música que mais bomba nas rádios gringas bacanas.
Radio 4, minha banda predileta de NYC, embarcou demais no
punk funk de seus conterrâneos do Rapture.
EJECT - Platéias do filme "Farenheit 9/11"
Na definição de um amigo, as sessões brasileiras acontecem em
clima de comÃcio: há quem bata palmas durante o filme! A
esquerda infantil adora a pieguice...
__________________________________________________________________________
Acabe com aquelas janelinhas que pulam na sua tela.
AntiPop-up UOL - � grátis!
http://antipopup.uol.com.br/
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