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Artigo na Veja dessa semana relata um suposto esquema de repasse á campanha de Lula em torno de USD$3 milhões. Se isso for verdade, o governo cai. Cai feio. A esquerda perde tudo. Meu único desejo é que se cair, que a direita (PFL, PP) não ganhe, mas sim a centro-esquerda (PSDB).

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Pérola de Paulo Francis publicada em 27/12/1976:

O dia em que o pessoal de bordo num avião brasileiro chamar o avião de avião em vez de “aeronave” e disser “apertem os cintos” em vez de “atem os cintos”, jorrará petróleo em todas as calçadas do Brasil, serão descobertas minas de ouro em todo o território nacional e nossa dívida de bilhões de dólares será perdoada por intervenção divina.

Waaal, Paulo, você e o George Carlin terão muito do que conversar.

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From the BBC.

Thomas Schelling, author of “Strategy of Conflict” has won the Nobel of Economics–err, I mean the “Bank of Sweden Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel” (or Sveriges Riksbanks pris i ekonomisk vetenskap till Alfred Nobels minne if you prefer).

This is really cool–I actually read his book. Compared with other authors in the field such as Maynard Smith and Nash, Schelling, along with Gibbons, are the only ones I find truly readable. Strategy of Conflict is a phenomenal book, and game theory is the only discipline that I’ve studied so far which has equal applications in things as diverse as child psychology and nuclear arms theory (well, maybe not so diverse after all).

Buy the book, I strongly recommend it!

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This movie is much like an open-palm blow to your solar plexus—you agonize for breath after you’re hit, but then go on to take the deepest breath of relief of your entire life.

First of all, I never knew le Quebecois had cinema. Seriously, I kinda like the French-Canadians. All right, I like poutine—I’ve never met a French-Canadian (other than Dallaire, which couldn’t possibly be placed into such a provincial, pardon the pun, stereotype). Regardless, this movie is all that Latin cinema is supposed to be. Why Latin? Because I can’t imagine this movie in English—I can’t imagine the references to all the gauchiste jists and sharp, eloquent jabs at America being delivered by even the heartiest American actor. This movie is way too visceral and lively to be done that way—there’s a reason joie de vivre is a French phrase. At the same time, I’m reminded of a Brazilian actor, Paulo Autran, who played a similar role in a play I watched a long, long time ago, whose theoretical execution of Remy’s role, I believe would’ve been better than par.

It was refreshing to see a lot of my goals and concepts in action, both succeeding and failing. It’s not a “life-changing” movie, as much as it’s a reflection movie. This is the kind of movie which makes me sit through the credits sitting still, and for me there’s no reaction more potent.

The movie is harsh in its subject matter, but teeming with life in its delivery. The contrast between Remy’s life and his son’s rings too close to home. The troublesome girls’s name won’t even afford me a transliteration. Even my favorite Philip Glass piece makes a guest appearance. In fact, just thinking about it makes me write another post—a post which unfortunately has no venue but my own blue folder of keepsakes in my bedroom, along with Julia’s picture album, my wristbands from Rock in Rio, a postcard from Erin, a napkin from a hostel in Turkey, a bottle-opener, and a note given to me on my graduation day. Alas, I’ve found a more potent reaction after all.

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I’m done! After some 5 hours between all three movies (plus a “debriefing” segment for Naqoyqatsi shot at NYU), I’ve finished Godfrey Reggio’s trilogy. You know my biggest shock? I thought Reggio was some stuffy Italian who talks about “planes of thought” and “paradigm shifts”. Nope—turns out he looks like a mixture of Willie Nelson and George Carlin. I finally saw Philip Glass speaking as well, who was timid apart from some nice explanations about how the movies were arranged.

As far as the movie goes, this one sucked. Yes, full-fledged suction with one reservation. I should say the whole thought of going through stock footage and digitally manipulating doesn’t seem too impressive for someone in my generation (hell, we played with the same concept in my High School multimedia class), but perhaps it did for Reggio’s. Besides the occasional “Hey! I know which video collection that footage’s from!”, there were few occasions where I consciously gasped at what I was seeing. The highlights, in the best tradition of the trilogy, are at the beginning of the film—ironically in Naqoyqatsi this means it’s also the only purpose-shot footage in the film. Reggio was way too trigger-happy on the solarization and all the other neat $1.99 effects that come with Avid—in a sense it reminded me of Peter Gabriel’s “Kiss That Frog” video, which did much of the same using 3D footage. It all detracted tremendously from the organic nature of the first two. A nice experiment would be to watch Naqoyqatsi as a stand-alone venture—though again for modern audiences Naqoyqatsi might seem very very passé. Note that this is not a fault of the editor, which did do some amazing cuts, but of the director which (I assume) thought high contrast and solarization was oh-so-cool to have all over the movie.

The positive reservation I had, of course was the audio. This time it was a dramatic departure from the other two movies. Where the first one was Glass in all his glory, the second was “Glass in the third-world” (the first track from the Powwaqatsi, “Serra Pelada”, quickly made its way into my iPod playlist.). For the third one, two things become evident: it’s been 15 years since Powwaqatsi (synths have disappeared and sound quality is much better) and this is “A symphony piece by Glass” rather than “Glass in concert”. The latter means that this sounds like another symphony by Glass. If the first two movies were marked by organic video and technological audio, Naqoyqatsi is all about the dazzling video effects and the luscious symphony orchestra.

My recommendation is if you tune the TV to the Travel Channel and leave the soundtrack playing you should get a more enjoyable audiovisual experience.

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From Gen. John Abizaid, head of the US Central Command in Iraq:

If you look at the geographic representation of Al-Qaeda and associated movements, it’s not like IBM–a monolith that’s centrally-led from a central headquarters–it’s much more like McDonald’s, a franchise.

So would the Symbionese Liberation Army be Google?

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Picture by David Turnley, Detroit Free Press, circa 1991.

I’m not particularly pro- or anti-war, but the picture reminds us of what is. I’m reminded of a line from “The Longest Day“:

He’s dead. I’m crippled. You’re lost. Do you suppose it’s always like that? I mean war.

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Hmm… nope.

Didn’t do it, sorry. The first 10-or-so minutes were phenomenal– the scene at Serra Pelada was beautifully gritty and deep. Philip Glass’s score, while lackluster after the second half of the movie, was on target for the Serra Pelada scene. Other scenes were thoughtful, but not gripping as the ones in Koyaanisqatsi.

A note on Philip Glass’s score: Although Powaqqatsi’s soundtrack was not as repetitive as Koyaanisqatsi, it did have a lot more pop undertones–synths which wouldn’t be out of place in a contemporaneous Brian Eno track. I was pleasantly surprised at how Glass managed to remain atemporal in the score for the Koyaanisqatsi, but did not manage to do so in Powaqqatsi. I guess the more appropriate conclusion is that he just didn’t try, which is fine by me as it resulted in more varied compositions.

Now on to the last one, Naqoyqatsi!

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