Book review: I Am not Here (and you have not seen to me) ovvero il post precedente tradotto automaticamente da Google

When you do not know if a film you is piaciuto, it means that you it is not piaciuto. Or that six enough presuntuoso one to believe that if had listened to you it would have been a better film. Or even than you do not understand any enough of cinema in order to appreciate a film to which something lacks the typical film. That is the weft, or better (for being a P2o more pedants): the novellistic structure. Todd Haynes has signed one strange film. Onirica, fragmentary, simbolista. Perhaps of simbolismo a dozzinale P2o. And of usual this attitude (this rests) does not appeal to to me, because if you do not know the history of Dylan you have thrown the moneies of the ticket. From the vision of the film in fact you cannot cavare a spider from the hole, if it does not enter already prepared.Other hurting points: fundamentalally it is an apologetic and enough partial film, on the depositor of the man Dylan. One that it has made of the aversion and the complex of superiority (voted the sbeffeggio more obvious: to badly sing to beautiful mail) a daily mask, cannot be described in all its rudezza and be justified in how much “target of the average”. Too much comfortable. Last note acida: but because they have not made a film on Dylan, with the history, the report and all the poetry that a life as its brings naturally? A film with Dylan, inasmuch as probably its is also he (at least placet) behind this plan?

A photography that is a pleasure.

A film from the stratospheric sonorous column. With the songs it originates them, with the equally beautiful adaptations, notes bound together to the images in skillful way.

An unusual idea of bottom: seven are made existential. Seven various personages for seven sfaccettature of the same man.

Ritratto most successful, that one of Jude Quinn, that is the larger Dylan: that one in black and white of years Sixty, mainly inspired. And, master stroke, interpreted from an incredible Cate Blanchett (watched as removes itself glances at they them, seems Bob indeed).

Sure, if the succeeded part more of the film is the faithful reproposition of the Don't film-documentary look back (that one of Dylan in England in 1965) perhaps the not satisfied originality.

The thing that I have appreciated more: the confession that a bad journalist reveals to an arrogating Jude Quinn: I do not know if it indeed does not preoccupy itself of nothing or if she is strained to make to believe this to people.

This was the road in order to try Dylan, instead is only points out.

Sin.

(Google translate)