charlie_bucket
Entrou em mai. de 2003
Bem-vindo(a) ao novo perfil
Nossas atualizações ainda estão em desenvolvimento. Embora a versão anterior do perfil não esteja mais acessível, estamos trabalhando ativamente em melhorias, e alguns dos recursos ausentes retornarão em breve! Fique atento ao retorno deles. Enquanto isso, Análise de Classificação ainda está disponível em nossos aplicativos iOS e Android, encontrados na página de perfil. Para visualizar suas Distribuições de Classificação por ano e gênero, consulte nossa nova Guia de ajuda.
Selos2
Para saber como ganhar selos, acesse página de ajuda de selos.
Avaliações9
Classificação de charlie_bucket
After reading so many reviews by people whose experiences with this beautiful movie were ruined because of the dreaded book-to-film curse, I can only thank my better senses for not having read it, although that is now in the works. I am beginning to think that it would be wise to go to cinematic book adaptations armed with complete ignorance of the source these days. Such a strategy may have allowed me to enjoy the filmed version of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, for example, but as is, it was just another unbelievably corny and overwrought, over-scored special effects-laden massacre of an otherwise damned good set of books.
In my ignorance of the source, 'Memoirs of a Geisha' turns out to be lovely if a bit contrived, and I am glad I allowed myself to enjoy it without niggling over the fact that there were Chinese actors playing Japanese roles or that it was filmed in California or that this or that part of the book was left out or abridged. The most important thing with 'Memoirs' is that it restored in me some hope that Hollywood is still capable of immense beauty and taste. It seems to me that this movie achieved an aesthetic at times that was unprecedented and astounding in its bare beauty, something even the film's detractors are willing to admit just before they throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Ziyi Zhang accomplished for this reviewer exactly what her character was supposed to accomplish with the men in the story - she forced me to "fall in love with her" about 12 times over throughout the movie, with her solo dance scene sending a warm current up my spine in particular. She is indeed a moving work of art in this: Sensual, beautiful, graceful, and young. That her acting is not particularly kaleidoscopic here makes many feel that she is a 'cold fish', but I saw nothing to corroborate this opinion, nor did I see any scenes where her character needed anything more or anything less than what she provided. I found her performance to be very honest in scope - even award-worthy compared to Oscar-nominee hacks like Reese Witherspoon. Zhang is exquisite in every moment, and her sad, demure beauty and understated performance work perfectly with the tremendous restraint that the subject is showing throughout. I found her work here very touching.
My largest reservation about this film is post-viewing, upon coming here and looking at the IMDb voter history, only to discover that the demographic that rated 'Memoirs' as highly as I do seems to have been composed of girls under 18 years of age! This is probably the very last group of people whose collective movie opinion I would want to associate myself with, but there it is.
I suppose the second thing I didn't like is that the movie had a bit too much Cinderella element to it, though dirtied up to accommodate the 20th and 21st-century decayed moral flavor. The chairman character was practically anemic in terms of being fleshed out as anything more than a bit player, just like Prince Charming always was, and made the protagonist's doings and goings-on a little bit too much like a protracted teenage crush to truly take seriously, but I can forgive this in light of the film's other charms.
Otherwise, I felt that this one worked on all levels - particularly visually - but with a special nod to both Li Gong for her outstanding portrayal of the antagonist, and to John Williams's excellent musical score. He is the only symphonic composer in the industry today who really has the spark, I think. The rest of them might as well be composing adventure music for those awful Marine recruitment ads with the buff dunderheads combating fire-breathing monsters.
In my ignorance of the source, 'Memoirs of a Geisha' turns out to be lovely if a bit contrived, and I am glad I allowed myself to enjoy it without niggling over the fact that there were Chinese actors playing Japanese roles or that it was filmed in California or that this or that part of the book was left out or abridged. The most important thing with 'Memoirs' is that it restored in me some hope that Hollywood is still capable of immense beauty and taste. It seems to me that this movie achieved an aesthetic at times that was unprecedented and astounding in its bare beauty, something even the film's detractors are willing to admit just before they throw the baby out with the bathwater.
Ziyi Zhang accomplished for this reviewer exactly what her character was supposed to accomplish with the men in the story - she forced me to "fall in love with her" about 12 times over throughout the movie, with her solo dance scene sending a warm current up my spine in particular. She is indeed a moving work of art in this: Sensual, beautiful, graceful, and young. That her acting is not particularly kaleidoscopic here makes many feel that she is a 'cold fish', but I saw nothing to corroborate this opinion, nor did I see any scenes where her character needed anything more or anything less than what she provided. I found her performance to be very honest in scope - even award-worthy compared to Oscar-nominee hacks like Reese Witherspoon. Zhang is exquisite in every moment, and her sad, demure beauty and understated performance work perfectly with the tremendous restraint that the subject is showing throughout. I found her work here very touching.
My largest reservation about this film is post-viewing, upon coming here and looking at the IMDb voter history, only to discover that the demographic that rated 'Memoirs' as highly as I do seems to have been composed of girls under 18 years of age! This is probably the very last group of people whose collective movie opinion I would want to associate myself with, but there it is.
I suppose the second thing I didn't like is that the movie had a bit too much Cinderella element to it, though dirtied up to accommodate the 20th and 21st-century decayed moral flavor. The chairman character was practically anemic in terms of being fleshed out as anything more than a bit player, just like Prince Charming always was, and made the protagonist's doings and goings-on a little bit too much like a protracted teenage crush to truly take seriously, but I can forgive this in light of the film's other charms.
Otherwise, I felt that this one worked on all levels - particularly visually - but with a special nod to both Li Gong for her outstanding portrayal of the antagonist, and to John Williams's excellent musical score. He is the only symphonic composer in the industry today who really has the spark, I think. The rest of them might as well be composing adventure music for those awful Marine recruitment ads with the buff dunderheads combating fire-breathing monsters.
George Roy Hill is a perhaps neglected name in any 'top ten' list of great directors we are likely to see, but his filmography speaks for itself, with a number of quiet classics among a few heavyweight top 100 films--all within a somewhat small oeuvre. Each of these classics shows to good effect Hill's marvelous aesthetic moods and attention to detail, combined with absolutely expert casting, obtaining winning performances from all of the principles, with superior character acting from the secondaries.
Peter Sellers is actually something of a secondary in this one as the title role, but his portrayal of Henry Orient is so ludicrous and wonderful that he steals the show every time he's on screen. He was really something. Sellers plays it very large here, as a pretentious, NYC-based, avant-garde pianist of meagre talent--a charlatan, egoist, and ersatz Lothario who cultivates a faux-Euro accent but slides back into his 'native' Brooklyn (Sellers is probably the greatest accent-mimic ever) jargon every time he gets rattled, who has Paderewski hair that he continuously primps, and who entices women who've actually fallen for his schtick by hurling continuous salvos of romance-novel drivel at them until they (hopefully) relent.
Oddly, although it is made plain and obvious in the dialogue that Henry Orient is more or less a hack, and although Sellers plays his usual skillful physical shenanigans, I found that the pianist on the soundtrack played the piano quite well, despite the ridiculous material. There's a hilarious, gushing theme that is edited into almost every scene that Henry is in. His mannerisms during the piano concerto and the ostentatious buffoonery from scene to scene show Sellers in his element, and he never misses the chance to exploit the full range of available comedic ingredients in any moment to the utmost. Every time I watch him cross his arms to play two notes four octaves apart at the end of the concerto, and he does the little wiggle of the finger as if he's depressing the string on a violin to get vibrato out of it, I let out a belly laugh. I never get tired of that.
The two protagonists (or rather, Sellers's perceived antagonists) are played with mesmerising enthusiasm by the two adolescent leads. Tippy Walker is particularly radiant in this movie as the talented, attention-starved, sensitive, hyperkinetic Val, who develops a crush on Henry. Her pixie features, infectious retainer-filled smile, and wide-eyed, bubblegummy girlishness shine on, and share honors with Sellers for scene-steal appeal. She plays off the hurt, pouty ingenue angle beautifully too. Her counterpart, Merrie Spaeth, is no slouch either, although she had the disadvantage here of having the 'straight man' role. No matter! They don't compete for space at all (the scene-stealing qualities of Ms Walker notwithstanding),and they get equal attention and equally precocious dialogue, with the simpatico theme being so stressed as to tell us purposely that they are equal partners through and through.
Ultimately the film leaves me feeling bittersweet, partially through nostalgia--Hill's 1963 NYC is beautiful--but also because the movie has that theme of fleeting innocence in the face of oncoming adolescent desire. George Roy Hill's great movies have a sparkle to them, and this qualifies as one of the quieter greats. In any case, as time buries this one, those halcyon days of youth go with it, but the legacies of Sellers and Hill should mark it for at least cult-status immortality, which by proxy should give the girls their deserved legacy too.
Peter Sellers is actually something of a secondary in this one as the title role, but his portrayal of Henry Orient is so ludicrous and wonderful that he steals the show every time he's on screen. He was really something. Sellers plays it very large here, as a pretentious, NYC-based, avant-garde pianist of meagre talent--a charlatan, egoist, and ersatz Lothario who cultivates a faux-Euro accent but slides back into his 'native' Brooklyn (Sellers is probably the greatest accent-mimic ever) jargon every time he gets rattled, who has Paderewski hair that he continuously primps, and who entices women who've actually fallen for his schtick by hurling continuous salvos of romance-novel drivel at them until they (hopefully) relent.
Oddly, although it is made plain and obvious in the dialogue that Henry Orient is more or less a hack, and although Sellers plays his usual skillful physical shenanigans, I found that the pianist on the soundtrack played the piano quite well, despite the ridiculous material. There's a hilarious, gushing theme that is edited into almost every scene that Henry is in. His mannerisms during the piano concerto and the ostentatious buffoonery from scene to scene show Sellers in his element, and he never misses the chance to exploit the full range of available comedic ingredients in any moment to the utmost. Every time I watch him cross his arms to play two notes four octaves apart at the end of the concerto, and he does the little wiggle of the finger as if he's depressing the string on a violin to get vibrato out of it, I let out a belly laugh. I never get tired of that.
The two protagonists (or rather, Sellers's perceived antagonists) are played with mesmerising enthusiasm by the two adolescent leads. Tippy Walker is particularly radiant in this movie as the talented, attention-starved, sensitive, hyperkinetic Val, who develops a crush on Henry. Her pixie features, infectious retainer-filled smile, and wide-eyed, bubblegummy girlishness shine on, and share honors with Sellers for scene-steal appeal. She plays off the hurt, pouty ingenue angle beautifully too. Her counterpart, Merrie Spaeth, is no slouch either, although she had the disadvantage here of having the 'straight man' role. No matter! They don't compete for space at all (the scene-stealing qualities of Ms Walker notwithstanding),and they get equal attention and equally precocious dialogue, with the simpatico theme being so stressed as to tell us purposely that they are equal partners through and through.
Ultimately the film leaves me feeling bittersweet, partially through nostalgia--Hill's 1963 NYC is beautiful--but also because the movie has that theme of fleeting innocence in the face of oncoming adolescent desire. George Roy Hill's great movies have a sparkle to them, and this qualifies as one of the quieter greats. In any case, as time buries this one, those halcyon days of youth go with it, but the legacies of Sellers and Hill should mark it for at least cult-status immortality, which by proxy should give the girls their deserved legacy too.