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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Quid Pro Quo

The Silence of the Lambs is filled with compelling, tense scenes between Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling. In this video, we look at the anatomy of a scene. How each follows a three act structure, and plays a larger role in the narrative.

 

Produced by: Michael Tucker (http://twitter.com/michaeltuckerla)

Written by: Brian Bitner (http://twitter.com/BrianBitner) & Michael Tucker
Edited by: Alex Calleros ( http://twitter.com/alex_calleros)

Call Me By Your Name

SCENE 141

INT. PERLMAN STUDIO - PERLMAN VILLA - EVENING/NIGHT

 

Professor PERLMAN is sitting in his usual place, but his chair is turned out to face the garden. On his lap are proofs of his latest book. He is drinking. Three large citronella candles next to him keep the mosquitoes away.

 

ELIO comes into the room to say good night. His father puts away his manuscript with a toss and lights a cigarette – his last of the day - using one of the citronella candles.

 

PERLMAN

So? Welcome home. Did Oliver enjoy the trip?

 

ELIO

I think he did.

 

PERLMAN takes a drag from his cigarette, then pauses a moment before speaking.

 

PERLMAN

You two had a nice friendship.

 

ELIO

(somewhat evasive)

Yes.

 

Another pause, and another drag on his cigarette.

 

PERLMAN

You’re too smart not to know how rare, how special, what you two had was.

 

ELIO

Oliver was Oliver.

 

PERLMAN

“Parce-que c’etait lui, parce-que c’etait moi.

 

ELIO

(trying to avoid talking about Oliver with his father)

Oliver may be very intelligent –

 

PERLMAN

(interrupting his son)

Intelligent? He was more than intelligent. What you two had had everything and nothing to do with intelligence. He was good, and you were both lucky to have found each other, because you too are good.

 

ELIO

I think he was better than me.

 

PERLMAN

I’m sure he’d say the same thing about you, which flatters the two of you.

 

In tapping his cigarette and leaning toward the ashtray, he reaches out and touches Elio’s hand. PERLMAN alters his tone of voice (his tone says: We don’t have to speak about it, but let’s not pretend we don’t know what I’m saying).

 

PERLMAN (CONT’D)

When you least expect it, Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot. Just remember: I am here. Right now you may not want to feel anything. Perhaps you never wished to feel anything. And perhaps it’s not to me that you’ll want to speak about these things. But feel something you obviously did.

 

ELIO looks at his father, then drops his eyes to the floor.

 

PERLMAN (CONT’D)

Look - you had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, to pray that their sons land on their feet. But

I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it. And if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out. Don’t be brutal with it. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!

 

ELIO is dumbstruck as he tries to take all this in.

 

PERLMAN (CONT’D)

Have I spoken out of turn?

 

ELIO shakes his head.

 

PERLMAN (CONT’D)

Then let me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you two had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. Remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. And before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. Pain. Don’t kill it and with it the joy you’ve felt.

 

PERLMAN takes a breath.

 

PERLMAN (CONT’D)

We may never speak about this again. But I hope you’ll never hold it against me that we did. I will have been a terrible father if, one day, you’d want to speak to me and felt that the door was shut, or not sufficiently open.

 

ELIO

Does mother know?

 

PERLMAN

I don’t think she does.

(but his voice means “Even if she did, I am sure her attitude would be no different than mine”)

I never discuss love on an empty stomach.

Roger: Well… here we are again.

Eve: Yes.

Roger: You recommend anything?

Eve: The brook trout. A little "trouty" but quite good.

Roger: Sold. "Brook... trout." (to steward) There you are.

Steward: Yes, sir.

Roger: I know. I look vaguely familiar.

Eve: Yes.

Roger: You feel you've seen me somewhere before.

Eve: Hmm hmm.

Roger: I have that effect on people. It's something about my face.

Eve: It's a nice face.

Roger: You think so?

Eve: I wouldn't say it if I didn't.

Roger: Oh, you're that type.

Eve: What type?

Roger: Honest.

Eve: Not really.

Roger: Good. Because honest women frighten me.

Eve: Why?

Roger: I don’t know. Somehow they seem to put me at a disadvantage.

Eve: Because you're not honest with them?

Roger: Exactly.

Eve: Like that business about the seven parking tickets?

Roger: What I mean is, the moment I meet an attractive woman, I... have to start pretending I've no desire to make love to her.

Eve: What makes you think you have to conceal it?

Roger: She might find the idea objectionable.

Eve: Then again, she might not.

Roger: Think how lucky I am to have been seated here.

Eve: Luck had nothing to do with it.

Roger: Fate?

Eve: I tipped the steward $5 to seat you here if you should come in.

Roger: Is that a proposition?

Eve: I never discuss love on an empty stomach.

Roger: You've already eaten.

Eve: But you haven't.

Roger: Don't you think it's time we were introduced?

Eve: I'm Eve Kendall. I'm 26 and unmarried. Now you know everything.

Roger: Tell me, what do you do besides lure men to their doom on the 20th Century Limited?

Eve: I'm an industrial designer.

Roger: Jack Phillips. Western sales manager for Kingby Electronics.

Eve: No, you're not. You're Roger Thornhill of Madison Avenue and you're wanted for murder on every front page in America. Don't be so modest.

Roger: Oops.

Eve: Don't worry. I won't say a word.

Roger: How come?

Eve: I told you. It's a nice face.

Roger: Is that the only reason?

Eve: It's going to be a long night.

Roger: True.

Eve: I don't particularly like the book I've started.

Roger: Aaah…

Eve: You know what I mean?

Roger: Let me think. (pauses) Yes, I know exactly what you mean.

Eve pulls out a cigarette. Roger takes out matches to light it.

Roger: That's my trademark. R.O.T.

Eve: Roger O. Thornhill. What does the "O" stand for?

Roger: Nothing. (lights her cigarette) I'd invite you to my bedroom if I had a bedroom.

Eve: A roomette?

Roger: Nothing, not even a ticket. I've been playing hide-and-seek with the Pullman conductor ever since the train left New York.

Eve: How awkward for you.

Roger: Yes, isn't it? No place to sleep.

Eve: I have a large drawing room all to myself.

Roger: That doesn't seem quite fair, does it?

Eve: Drawing room E. Car 3901.

Roger: Such a nice number.

Eve: It's easy to remember.

Roger: 3901.

Eve: See?

Roger: No luggage.

Eve: So?

Roger: You wouldn't happen to have an extra pair of pajamas, would you?

Eve: Wouldn't I? Incidentally, I wouldn't order any dessert if I were you.

Roger: I get the message.

Eve: That isn't exactly what I meant. This train seems to be making an unscheduled stop and I just saw two men get out of a police car as we pulled into the station. They weren't smiling.

Skewered. One sympathizes.

Vesper walks up to Bond and seats herself across from him

Vesper: I'm the money.

Bond puts down his menu and regards her with an amused smile.

Bond: Every penny of it.

Vesper puts her business card on the table.

Vesper: The Treasury has agreed to stake you in the game.

Bond: ‘Vesper’? I do hope you gave your parents hell for that.

Vesper takes menu from porter.

Vesper: (to the porter) Thank you. (to Bond) Your boss must have some influence. I’ve never seen so go much go out the door so quickly.

Bond: Or so stylishly. May I ask where it is?

Vesper: Ten million was wired to your account in Montenegro, with a contingency for five million more, if I deem it a prudent investment. (as if curious) I suppose you’ve given some thought to the notion that if you lose, our government will have directly financed terrorism. (re:menu) What looks good?

Cut to exterior of train. Back to Vesper and Bond in dining car. Clear that they have just finished their meal. Bond fills Vesper's wine glass

Vesper: So you’re telling me it’s a matter of probability and odds; I was worried there was some chance involved.

Bond: Only if one assumes that the person with the best hand always wins.

Vesper: So that would be what you call ‘bluffing’?

Bond: You've heard the term. Then you may have also heard that in poker you don’t play your hand, you play the man across from you.

Vesper: And you’re good at reading people.

Bond: Which is why I’ve been able to detect an undercurrent of sarcasm in your voice.

Vesper: I am now assured our money is in good hands.

Bond: You don't think this is a very good plan, do you?

Vesper: So there is a plan? Excellent. Somehow I got the impression we were risking ten million dollars and hundreds of people’s lives on a game of luck. What else can you surmise?

Bond: About you, Miss Lynd?… Well your beauty is a problem. You worry that you won’t be taken seriously…

Vesper: Which one can say of any attractive woman with half a brain.

Bond: True, but this one overcompensates by wearing slightly masculine clothing and being more aggressive than her female colleagues, which gives her a somewhat prickly demeanor and, ironically enough, makes her less likely to be accepted and promoted by her male superiors, who mistake her insecurities for arrogance. Now I would normally have gone with only child, but by the way you ignored the quip about your name and your parents I would have to go with orphan?

Vesper: All right… by the cut of your suit you went to Oxford or wherever and actually think human beings dress like that. But you wear it with such disdain, my guess is you didn’t come from money and your school friends never let you forget it, which means you were at that school by the grace of someone else’s charity, hence the chip on your shoulder. And since your first thought about me ran to orphan, that's what I’d say you are. (sees a slight reaction) Oh, you are. I like this poker thing. And it makes sense since MI6 looks for maladjusted young men who’d give little thought to sacrificing others in others to protect queen and country. You know... former SAS types with easy smiles and expensive watches. Rolex?

Bond: Omega.

Vesper: Beautiful. Now having just met you I wouldn’t go as far as calling you a cold hearted bastard.

Bond: Of course not.

Vesper: But it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that you think of women as disposable pleasures rather than meaningful pursuits, so as charming as you are, Mr. Bond, I will be keeping my eye on our government’s money and off your perfectly formed arse.

Bond: You noticed.

Vesper: Even accountants have imaginations. How was your lamb?

Bond: Skewered. One sympathizes.

Vesper rises to her feet and gathers her bag.

Vesper: Good evening Mr. Bond.

Bond: Good evening Miss Lynd.

Bond watches her leave, smiling.

The Ice Storm - Cena de Abertura

EXT. TRAIN - DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN


Suburban Connecticut, outside of New York City, 1973. The

still after a terrible storm. Trees dripping, their branches

torn, the air warming just before the break of a new day. The

train lies dark and motionless, a few flashing yellow

emergency lights up front, as a work crew removes debris from

the track.

 

INT. TRAIN. PRE-DAWN

 

Various passengers, huddled uncomfortably, cold, asleep.

On Paul Hood, 15-and-a-half, stoner-preppie look, hunched up

in his seat under the faint emergency exit light. He reads

his Fantastic Four comic book by the pale light of the

emergency exit sign.

 

Suddenly, the lights begin to flicker on and the hum of the

train's engines returns.

 

The conductor enters the car, blasting forth in his classic

nasal voice.

 

CONDUCTOR

Good morning ladies and gentlemen --

 

He sounds like a baseball announcer.

 

PASSENGERS

(mumbling, ad lib)

What ladies?

 

CONDUCTOR

-- this train originating at New

York's Grand Central Station is

back in service - next stop will be

New Canaan, Connecticut. New

Canaan, Connecticut, next stop!

 

He moves on to the next car.

 

The train begins to move.

 

Paul rubs his elbow against the window and looks out into the

still-dark early morning.

 

He looks back down at his comic book.

 

On the comic book: Reed Richards (also known as Stretch) has

zapped his young son with a cosmic ray gun to neutralize the

destructive energy that Annihilus has implanted in him.

The Thing, Medusa, Flame, and Richards' wife Sue Storm look

on, stunned.

 

"THEN YOU'VE TURNED HIM INTO A

VEGETABLE. YOUR OWN SON." "DON'T

YOU SEE, SUE? HE WAS TOO

POWERFUL... IF HIS ENERGY HAD

CONTINUED TO BUILD, HE WOULD HAVE

DESTROYED THE WORLD!"


Paul looks up again, thinking.

 

PAUL (V.O.)

In issue number 141 of The

Fantastic Four, published in

November 1973, Reed Richards has to

use his anti-matter weapon on his

own son, who Annihilus has turned

into a human atom bomb. His son is

the result of Richards' coupling

with the earthling Sue Storm, and

the problem is that the cosmic rays

that infused Richards and the rest

of the Fantastic Four on their

aborted moon mission have made

young Franklin a volatile mixture

of matter and anti-matter.

 

EXT. TRAIN BRIDGE. PRE-DAWN


The train moves slowly through a suburban, semi-forested

landscape.


PAUL (V.O.)

And that's what it is to come from

a family, if you analyze it

closely. Each of them is negative

matter for the other ones. And

that's what dying is -- dying is

when your family, which is in fact

your personal negative matter from

which you emerge -- it's when the

family takes you back, thus hurling

you back into negative space...

 

INT. TRAIN. CONT'D.

 

On Paul, as the sun breaks over the horizon. His face glows

warmly in the yellow light. He looks down idly at the comic

book.

 

PAUL (V.O.)

So it's a paradox -- the closer

you're drawn back in, the further

into the void you're thrown.

 

EXT. CONRAIL STATION. EARLY MORNING

 

The train slowly pulls in.

 

The train doors open, and Paul, weary from the long night,

emerges. He sees his family gathered at the other end of the

platform -- Ben, 40, a bit worse for wear but still retaining

traces of his boyish looks; Elena, 37, distant and elegant

even in her oversized sweater; and Wendy, 14, a sullen

suburban Lolita.

 

He pauses, regarding them.

 

They stand, silent, even dignified, awaiting him.

Michael Clayton - Cena de abertura. I/II

ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
...Michael. Dear, Michael. Nurse
Michael. Dr. Clayton. Secret Hero.
Keeper of the Hidden Sins. Of course
it’s you. Who else could they send?
Who else could be trusted? Smoke on
the horizon -- hole in the bucket --
voices crying from Milwaukee to
Manhattan, “Where’s our hero?”
“Where’s our Cleanser Of The Hidden
Sins?” And here you are, sleeves
rolled up, lips sealed -- broom --
dustbin -- bankroll at the ready!
Fifties, is it still fifties? When
you came to Boston, you remember?
God, you must’ve had a thousand of
them! The cash -- the smile -- the
quiet word in the corner -- of course
it’s you, Michael, who else could it
ever be? But Michael, please, before
you sweep, please just hear me out --
just try -- because it’s not like
Boston -- it’s not an episode --
relapse -- fuck up -- I’m begging
you, Michael, make believe it’s not
just madness, because it’s not just
madness --


(continuing, as--)


INT. LAW FIRM OFFICE/DUPLICATION CENTER -- NIGHT
A XEROX MACHINE -- cranking out high-speed copies -- ten
pages a second flashing before our eyes -- all information
a blur except for the letterhead which is constant:


KENNER, BACH & LEDEEN LLP
ATTORNEYS AT LAW


As...


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- I mean, yes -- okay, yes -- elements
of madness -- the speed of madness --
yes, the occasional, euphoric, pseudohallucinatory
moments that, yes -- fine
-- agreed -- distracting -- nostalgic --
all of that --


(continuing, as--)


A HUGE EMPTY OFFICE BULLPEN. CUBICLES AND WORKSTATIONS.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- but that’s just the package --
the plate -- think of it as a tax --
The Mania Tax -- The Insanity Tax --
or like advertising on TV -- it’s the
freight -- the weight -- it’s the
price of the show --


A LONG, DARK CORRIDOR. A CLEANING CREW IN THE DISTANCE.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- just please, just hear me out,
Michael, because I swear to you, this
is so much, so very much more, than
the ravings of some hypo-maniacal,
bipolar attorney --


DOCUMENT AREA. ODD THIS LATE. THREE ASSOCIATES STACKING
PAPERWORK ONTO A TROLLEY --


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- Two weeks ago I came out of the
building -- I’m running across Sixth
Avenue -- there’s a car waiting -- I
have exactly thirty-eight minutes to
get to Laguardia,and I’m dictating --
there’s this frantic associate running
to keep up --


A SENIOR PARTNER’S OFFICE. A SECURITY GUARD SNEAKING A
SMOKE IN THE DARK BY AN OPEN WINDOW.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- we’re in the middle of the street --
the light changes -- the traffic --
unleashed -- it’s coming -- serious
traffic -- but there I am -- I’m

babbling -- my mouth -- I can’t stop --
some ridiculous, involuntary part of my
brain just keeps going -- I’m standing
there dictating this trade secret,
Motion to Suppress...


AN OFFICE PHONE. TWELVE LINES BLINKING IN THE DARK.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
...and there, Michael, in the middle
of Sixth Avenue -- as I stood there
jabbering -- and this poor young woman
is screaming -- traffic speeding toward
us -- I looked at my hands and my suit
-- my briefcase -- and it came to me --
came over me -- through me -- the
overwhelming sensation -- the feeling --
the fact -- that I was covered with
some sort of film -- an oil -- an ooze
-- my hair -- my face -- like a glaze --
a coating -- and at first I thought,
“My God, I know what this is, this is
some sort of amniotic, embryonic fluid -
- I’m drenched in afterbirth -- I’ve
breached the chrysalis -- I’ve been
reborn.” --


ASSOCIATE #1 WHEELING THAT DOCUMENT TROLLEY PAST AN EMPTY
BACK OFFICE KITCHEN.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- but the traffic -- this stampede --
cars -- trucks -- the horns -- the
screaming associate -- I’m thinking,
“No -- reset -- this cannot be rebirth.
If anything, this must some giddy
illusion of renewal that happens in the
final instant before death.” --


A MAINTENANCE WORKER VACUUMING A LARGE RECEPTION STAIRCASE.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- and then -- in the fraction of a
moment it took for that idea to form --
I realized all of that was wrong,
because I looked back at the building
and had the most stunning moment of
clarity...


THE WORD PROCESSING DEPARTMENT. TWENTY PEOPLE -- ACTORS,
DANCERS, ARTISTS, INSOMNIACS -- THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT
HAMMERING OUT OVERNIGHT LEGAL PAPERWORK.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
...I realized, Michael, at that moment,
that I had emerged -- as I have done
nearly every day for the past twentyeight
years of my life -- not through
doors of Kenner, Bach & Ledeen --


RECEPTION LOBBY. ASSOCIATE #1 WHEELING THE TROLLEY OFF
THE ELEVATOR.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- not through the portals of our huge
and powerful law firm, but rather from
the asshole of an organism whose sole
function is to excrete the poison --
the ammo -- the defoliant -- necessary
for even larger and more dangerous
organisms to destroy the miracle of
humanity --


ANOTHER EMPTY HALLWAY. A BANQUET TABLE LITTERED WITH THE
PICKED-OVER REMNANTS OF AN ALL-NIGHT CATERED FEED.


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
-- and that I have been coated with
this patina of shit for the better part
of my life and that the stink and stain
might in all likelihood take the rest
of my days to undo --


AND NOW -- WIDER TO FIND -- ASSOCIATE #1 WHEELING THE
TROLLEY TOWARD BIG DOORS AT THE END OF THE HALL --


ARTHUR EDEN’S (V.O.)
-- and do you know what I did next?
I took a deep, cleansing breath.
I set that notion aside. I tabled it.
I said to myself, “As clear as this may
be -- as potent as this may feel -- as
true a thing as I believe I have
witnessed here -- I must wait. It must
stand the test of time.”


AN ATTORNEY HUDDLED OVER HIS MOBILE PHONE, SEEING THE KID
COMING, HELPING HIM BY OPENING THE DOORS, as --


ARTHUR EDENS (V.O.)
And, Michael, the time is now.

Argumentos.

Interessa-me particularmente a escrita, no que ao cinema diz respeito, por todos os motivos e mais algum.

Dos nomeados para o Oscar de melhor argumento, suscita-me sinceras dúvidas o Wall-E. Sim, o filme é bom, mas a originalidade é quase toda visual e não me parece que seja da escrita que vem o valor da experiência envolvente que proporciona.

O contrário vale a pena dizer de "In Bruges" (na imagem) que, de um quase nada de história, desenha pela palavra um filme no "shithole" que é Bruges, quase uma jóia, com alguns dos melhores diálogos que passaram recentemente por uma sala de cinema. Os actores servem perfeitamente este brilhantismo e se houvesse um Oscar só para o diálogo, este estava garantido.

O "Slumdog Millionaire" é, por outro lado, um primor de construção, fazendo pleno uso do tempo e do espaço da Índia, do micro ao macrocosmos, com um aproveitamento inteligente de todos os mecanismos de envolvimento do espectador à sua disposição. É como se tudo na vida fosse, de facto, um concurso.

Já "O Curioso Caso de Benjamin Button" assume um tom narrativo que, se dispensarmos a originalidade da premissa do conto de F. Scott Fitzgerald, não é particularmente arrojado ou inovador. Está certamente mais bem servido de actores, de realização, de direcção de arte, do que de um argumento que seja particularmente penetrante.

Quanto ao "Milk" e ao "Frozen River", espero ter tempo este fim de semana para os ver e logo opino. Os outros a seu tempo.