I always thought, even when I was a critic, that the brutal and simplistic reaction of the spectator is a good thing. I know that back then in Cahiers, we praised very commercial films in trying to defend them from a point of view that was not that of the man on the street. But this point of view doesn’t bother me. If people want to take things literally in the film, things that I myself may not take literally, I don’t say that this goes against its meaning, I say that it’s a more unsophisticated way of receiving the film, that’s all. I absolutely take on board every interpretation. That doesn’t mean I have to accept them, but once I finish a film, it escapes me, it closes itself off from me, and I can’t enter it any more. It’s up to the public to penetrate through whichever door they wish. I am not speaking about critics, who claim to have found the key, the right key, the only one which opens the big entrance gate. But that’s not my problem any more, thank God. I am not looking for the keys to Hitchcock any more, like I used to.
Corinne Marchand in Cléo de 5 à 7, directed by Agnès Varda, 1962
Gena Rowlands, early 60s.
Les parapluies de Cherbourg (dir. Jacques Demy, 1964)
Andrei Tarkovsky in The Killers, the first film he ever directed, alongside classmates Marika Beiku & Aleksandr Gordon, while attending grade three of the All-Rusian State Institute of Cinematography (VGIK). All parts were played by fellow students, and Tarkovsky played the custmer whistling ”Lullaby of Birdland”, a tune they were acquainted with through listening to Voice of America broadcasts. This 1950s tune was widely regarded as a symbol of freedom, and its inclusion in the film adaptation of a 1920s Hemingway story was Tarkovsky’s idea. The film was highly praised by class instructor Mikhail Romm. [x]
歩いても 歩いても (Still Walking) dir. Hirokazu Koreeda
"They say butterflies that survive the winter come back yellow the following year."
what a day!!!!!!!! nothing happened and i was tired