 
I would not say an intrusion of style or expression, but the last tango of Bertolucci in Paris was really very typically new wave. Choice of film music, colouring, lighting and shadow effect, expression of actors, placement of camera, shooting style, storyboard, and even the choice of actor, I cannot stop myself from correlating the query how this last dance would be like if the dancer were Traffaut. The film was poetic and classic, so as the performance of Marlon Brando. It was 1972, the era of French fantasy, and Bertolucci was obviously one of the great followers. Actually Paris has always been being unique. Images of the streets, façade of the buildings, pillars of the bridges, heavy sound of the approach of metro, display window of the shops, and what you would remember was what you could have recalled. Paris was hedonic, and the city of dream never changes. A story of an étranger – the tragedy of love and adore. I like the ritual-less relief, the drunk of freedom, and in front of the overlapping roof top of an old Paris, the sky could be that spacious for the lightness of life. Love is no regret and as the same time love is so private and so exclusively owned by every lover and dreamer. No intrusion.Libellés : bertolucci, marlon brando, moving image, paris, sense |
