KINOGRAPHIAS

By 1967, the James Bond films had stamped a distinct cinematic experience, with a structural formula for the agent’s missions, the recurrence of characters and their portrayers, and visual and musical motifs, among other elements. Encompassing these bonding elements and the franchise they were representing had been Sean Connery’s embodiment of the titular spy. Yet, when James Bond came back to theaters in Peter R. Hunt’s directorial effort, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), a new face was incarnating the character: George Lazenby. The new actor’s entry succeeded five films with Connery as Bond, and in retrospect, ended up sandwiched in its predecessors’ tenure, with the original actor returning to the role for the film that followed.  Recasting was not entirely uncommon during the earlier Bond films: Desmond Lewellyn’s Q turned out to be armorer Boothroyd from Terence Young’s Dr. No (1962), and by 1965, Felix Leiter, portrayed by Jack Lord, Cec Linder and Rik Van Nutter, beca...

“Shaken, not stirred”. The phrase could describe the fine line the creative talent behind the James Bond movies it comes from have attempted to walk during the franchise’s tenure. For all this time, artists in front and behind the camera have come, stayed and gone, imprinting their sensibilities yet working to maintain the personality of the series – the pact between filmmakers and spectators for the former to produce more stories and for the latter to attend them on the big (and small, post-theatrical) screen. With a growing history and awareness of it, each film faces the following challenges: how to manage the evolving conditions these are made in, avoid wearing repetition and not stray too far from what interested parties have come to look forward to in order to keep them engaged. The overall outcome for this is that James Bond has continued to bring about films through stories that test, but not batter down, the established formula. Ever since its inception with Terence Young’s Fr...

In June, 1981, audiences facing the big screen were introduced to the first film featuring the character of Indiana Jones. The brainchild of a team led by Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, Raiders of the Lost Ark presented a storytelling ride that reinvigorated the moviegoing experience. On one hand, it displayed the virtuosity of classical motion picture epics, while adding on the other a freshness in its incorporation of narrative, dramatic and filmic elements. With a story, character and spectacle that became a staple for modern filmmaking, it remains, 40 years later, an unmissable cinematic achievement for audiences of all ages. The plot, set in 1936, follows the story of Indiana Jones, renowned archaeologist, as he is summoned by the United States government to find the mythical Ark of the Covenant. He must do so before the Nazis locate its hidden resting place in Egypt, as the artifact, believed to irradiate supernatural power, is feared to be destructive in the wrong hands. In ...

Let us set ourselves in November, 2019 for a moment. From the heights, we see a night like any other: the view of a dense city, with an infinity of yellow lights and thickly contaminated air. High and robust buildings rise over others with wide vistas. With factories, vehicles and citizens full swing during late hours, this promises to be the dawn of an era and, likewise, the twilight of another. Such terms apply to the vivid images we keep record of from not very few cities at the end of the 21st century’s second decade. Whoever has seen Ridley Scott’s film Blade Runner (1982), may be able to recognize in the former description the city of Los Angeles, in a look conjured, not to the past but facing the future, 37 years ago. In it, detective Rick Deckard is assigned to hunt androids who have rebelled against humanity, and ends up falling in love with one of them. While this plot remains in the past, the vision of the future - fear of a present time - has already arrived and stayed, it...

Christopher Nolan’s “Interstellar” boldly takes a team of astronauts into another galaxy, holding onto the idea that love for their dear ones is what motivates and draws them (moves them) to fulfill their finding of a new home for humanity. The editing, by Lee Smith and accompanied by Hans Zimmer’s frenetic piano score, aids this portrayal. After the team is deceived by Dr. Mann, an astronaut who had been living on an ice planet for years and sent them a signal (to be rescued rather than to confirm his planet as habitable), he damages mission pilot Cooper’s spacesuit in an attempt to take control of the ship. As Cooper lays in the middle of the frozen land and calls for help, the action is briefly intercut with a flashback to his final conversation with his daughter Murphy. We begin with an over-the-shoulder shot of two arms from different people (father and daughter), each holding a watch. Starting on this frame reinforces a sense of urgency, the image of clocks ticking suggesting tim...

Separated by 15 years from its predecessors, The Godfather - Part III (1990) arrived in theaters three decades ago. Its director, Francis Ford Coppola, states that his original intention was not to continue the story beyond the two parts made in 1972 and 1974, and that this new work emerged as an epilogue. While it isn’t narratively essential for the story, such finale manages to respect the integrity of the unit already established by its preceding films while also justifying its own existence. The movie portrays the fall of Michael, former leader of the Corleone criminal family, in his late years. Ill and tired of remaining involved in illegitimate businesses, he seeks to bond with his two children and ex-wife, from whom he is estranged. The ending (spoiler alert) delivers the definitive hit, as Michael loses his daughter (played by Sofia Coppola, daughter of the director, in a role with which, in a certain way, he hands her to world) in an attempt on his life as he exits the opera ...

Night on the big screen. Before us, ocean waves arriving at a beach. We follow a man who staggers on the sand, suffocating under the effects of liquor. He is veteran touring artist, Zampanò, his suit visibly broken and his face bruised. He comes from a bar, having left a fight affirming he doesn’t need of anyone and wants to be alone. However, nearly two minutes afterwards in film time, our subject collapses in tears by the shore, with only the spectator as a witness and no one to offer him a hand. Such is the scene that closes Federico Fellini’s film, La Strada (1954). The movie follows the experiences of young Gelsomina, calm and innocent, with the temperamental Zampanò, whose final solitude reflects the absence of his partner, who has passed away. The force of this moment, channeled in the emotion with which Anthony Quinn portrays the afflicted circus actor, is effectively transmitted to us observing from the screen by the different elements of film language that, charged with meani...