?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?Cosa pensi del fatto che sempre più spesso il porno diventa parte integrale dei film hollywoodiani? Basta pensare al successo di ...Eyes Wide Shut...
dakkar
EroticNewAge con Jenna Jamesson su EWS
Moderatori: Super Zeta, AlexSmith, Pim, Moderatore1
In un articolo di EroticNewAge datato 07/11 e firmato "muzsa" viene riportata un'intervista a Jenna Jamesson che parla della sua nuova carriera nel cinema "regolare". L'autore dell'intervista (non riportato...) pone, ad un certo punto, questa domanda:
dakkar
dakkar
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Ospite
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Ospite
midnight all night: the anatomy of desire in eyes wide shut
It turns the most unlikely circumstances/objects into analogies or figures of lust so as to be able to animate itself anywhere; it even can displace itself entirely onto things remote from any possible interactions. It is as though the libidinous impulse is an exorbitant energy that tends not to satisfy itself and subside, but excites itself with its own function; everything becomes infected with its trouble, practical associations, relationships, alliances to institutions and ideas, before the imminence of disaster and the thirst for excitation.
Erotic desire is not simply a desire for recognition the constitution of a message, an act of communication or an exchange: it is a mode of surface contact with things and substances, with a world, that engenders and induces transformations, intensifications and becoming something other. Not simply a rise and fall, a waxing and waining, but movement, processes transmutations. That is what constitutes the seduction and power of desire, its capacity to shake up, rearrange, reorganize the body's forms and sensations, to make the subject and body as such dissolve into something else other than what they are habitually. (Desire need not culminate – sexual intercourse, but may end in production.) The production of sensations never felt, alignments never thought, energies never tapped, regions never known.
Stanley Kubrick is a generous transcriber of appearances, pedantically exact in the details, insistent about where objects begin and end, what light and colour do, what gravity forms have. Here you are, his frames tell you, exactly here: this is what it looks like. Yet for all the apparent accessibility, Kubrick's world feels both remote and unfamiliar, somewhat staged and a little unsafe.
Dislocation seems intended. Embracing the obvious with apparent urgency, Kubrick's work forces us to confront and admit to the secrecy of the phenomenal world. By its exactitude and clarity, his work proclaims a suddenness: The brightness of the present moment. And yet something other than the present is offered – the trace of recent events or more potently, a premonition of events to come.
The characteristic stillness in Kubrick's frames endures no longer than the first glance. Quickly they vibrate, objects come apart. The glass is about to shatter; the mirror is about to crack. This is the moment Kubrick prolongs - to make us tense. The moment, eternalised by Kubrick's vision, nonetheless hangs on to its connection with real time, precisely to play upon the nerves. There is a consistent counter-motion in Kubrick's presentation of time and place. Violence is in the air, and under the clearest of skies.
Kubrick portrays menace in Eyes Wide Shut by the most subtle means; the clues are oblique barely suggestive. The burden of interpretation, the invention of narrative, unfolds elegantly.
In Kubrick's world, both place and objects are real but their condition is perilous, their permanence in doubt. Transformation (breakage as opposed to metamorphosis) is latent in his presentation of the solid in the context of real life, eternal in the context of art. This is the source of the characteristic quiet in Kubrick's films, which is nevertheless nothing if not disquieting.
In Eyes Wide Shut Kubrick's subject comes from an ontological bestiary. The concern is the thing that is both eternal and transitory, both real and non-existent. His subject is edges, of both characters and states. The borders that suggest those in-between states of both body and mind. He frames thresholds, the moment between sleep and waking, or between desire and action; the edge between the inner and outer worlds.
Time is also seen as an edge in Kubrick's world. Characteristically things are "about" to happen, although in some scenes the mysterious event may be one that has just passed. It is as if the moment of a scene were the moment of discovery – of a crime without any clue but the corpse. Sadism pervades like an exotic waft. Kubrick imagines disaster/ violence/violation, but he does not depict it directly. Instead he makes laconic and elegant suggestion, preserves the refinement of his sensibility by the delicacy of his treatment. He allows us to translate those "vibrations" in the film into our own "shudder", to make our own response to what his intentions pretends to deny is there at all. This is another of Kubrick's borders between desire and action, good and evil, where his is the desire, and "ours" the evil. Firmly marking the edge in the film, nevertheless he allows us to cross it, to complete his thought, and in a sense, the narrative and the transgression it almost names.
How does Kubrick manage to invite both contemplation of a fixed moment and, at the same time, our interference with it? Part of an explanation concerns the inherent "drama" of many of his scenes - "theatrical set-pieces" which point to a melodrama and suggest a narrative which if not yet played is certainly conceived. In other scenes, relationships are set up among the characters where meaning seems tantalisingly available, yet provocatively withheld.
The feel of instability is implanted in the film.
Kubrick's film is about those things which, like film, keep life at one remove, and at a distance – mirrors dreams and desire. Kubrick is too subtle a film-maker too self-censoring a symbolist, to make his disappointment with life, or his distrust of it – its violence – the central subject of Eyes Wide Shut, it seems rather to lie behind the characters as a kind of near-allegorical background.
The desired/feared experience may be hinted at. The sins of the dreamer, if they commit them, are sins of thought only, just as the adventures of the reader of a book takes place in the mind alone. The intensity derives not from the notion of fulfilled love than from "adolescent" desire, the peculiar intensity of which depends precisely on its non-fulfilment. It is a world of speculation and longing that Kubrick creates.
In the context of Eyes Wide Shut as a whole, and particularly its apparent ambivalence towards life, it seems that the peculiar atmosphere generates from a certain stillness; that stillness is an expression of a refusal or fear of action, and simultaneously that its exceptional vibration speaks for a desire for it. That desire is both ambivalent and anxious, representing thoughts that cannot or should not be completed, and yet, by many hints and directions the "unfinished" symbolism seems to ask us to name the thoughts, while also remaining absolved and protected.
The meaning of this scene is intensified and complicated by how it transforms what immediately preceded it. Bill and his wife Alice (Nicole Kidman) have both just been seen in humorous counterpoint being hit on by strangers. The artificial coherence of their both being pursued simultaneously could have progressed smoothly in the construction of a romantic farce had Kubrick not broken the mood by linking this marital by-play incongruously to the sexual/physical drug–coma danger in bathroom. The scenes of Bill and Alice "playing" at flirtation downstairs have no ordinary connection with the "perversions" played out upstairs, yet their temporal proximity enables an interpretative link. The conscious method of organising meaning is questioned. We begin asking explicatory questions: What does the fact that this disparate activity is happening in the same sequence point to? Is the upstairs transgression the reverse side to the partially restrained sexual counter-play maintained downstairs? The links are established to set inquiry in motion.
Next comes the crucial event that will generate the rest of the narrative. Alice shocks Bill by describing a moment of sexual fantasy and obsession that occurred a year earlier. This memory is revealed in something like the manner of a confessional with Alice as the "guilty" protagonist, Bill the silent, patriarchal "priest".
Alice's story doesn't simply unearth Bill's capacity for jealousy. More precisely, she reveals that her erotic feelings could have led her to destroy her marriage and family. The moment this hypothetical death is postulated Alice and Bill are rescued from further discussion by a phone call. Bill is called away because one of his patients has actually died.
Bill's comforting of the grief-stricken daughter mourning her dead father replicates the previous crisis moment with Alice. The actress superficially physically resembles Kidman, while her European accent vaguely suggests the male stranger who tried to seduce Alice at the party. Then there's the recurring theme of death threatening the stability of the family, and the fact that Bill must act as listener, again almost as a priest, as the woman recounts her father's last day. However, what is most prescient is the way the mourner's hysterical sexual behaviour mimics and amplifies what is occurring internally with Bill – though neither character is entirely conscious of it. Bill's anodyne platitude to counter the daughter's sexual provocation – "You're very upset now" – is only slightly more incongruous than the way her desperate plea – "Don't despise me" – refers to the shame and guilt that Bill experiences. He is wanting to "revenge" his wife, and an inexplicable opportunity is being presented.
Dialogue and behaviour cross the boundaries of identity in complex expressions and formulations, as feelings that should be articulated remain blocked. Language is both powerful and powerless, vividly suggesting significance without ever delivering satisfactory, functional meanings. Plot actions in Eyes Wide Shut unfold in an analogous mixture of pedantic realism and extravagant fantasy. Potential meanings – hinted at, suggested, cross-referenced, alluded to – start multiplying like accelerating cancerous cells. It is very much a process of anxiety.
As soon as Harford leaves home we are subsequently forced to mimic his fierce gaze as he surveys further heterosexual options to his deconstructing marriage. It is here that Kubrick's strategy becomes apparent: we the viewers experience Harford's "will-he won't-he" dilemma as if we were wearing him as a mask.
Another key sequence occurs in the scene between Bill and a prostitute named Domino. (Scenes in the film condition or reflect the ones before or after with decisive effects). Preferring not to specify the sexual practices available Domino says, "I'd rather not put it into words." Unknowingly she is compounding Bill's obsessive-compulsive state – she is unaware how disturbed Bill is that his wife Alice transfigured her sexual desires into words. Her statement is meaningful in its allusion to the film's themes and structure, yet meaningless in the interpersonal context in which Bill grants Domino no access to this structural awareness.
The strategy of having characters say things to others that are critically significant but in no way follow the discernible logic of the interpersonal situation, therefore restricting the characters from comprehending the meaning they are generating, is carried to its extreme in the orgy sequence. Everything spoken to Bill during the course of events appears highly charged with significance yet nothing has a legitimate referent. Even before the orgy is interpreted/vindicated at the end of the film by Ziegler, we are confronted with a dazzling linguistic enigma. One moment – suggestive yet consequently absurd – comes directly from Bill himself, who seeks to evade the atmosphere of ominous warnings of humiliating chastisement (an undefined punishment for an uncommitted crime to be enacted by an unknown, vaguely patriarchal authority) by saying in absurd self-defence: "I think you're mistaking me for someone elseâ€
It turns the most unlikely circumstances/objects into analogies or figures of lust so as to be able to animate itself anywhere; it even can displace itself entirely onto things remote from any possible interactions. It is as though the libidinous impulse is an exorbitant energy that tends not to satisfy itself and subside, but excites itself with its own function; everything becomes infected with its trouble, practical associations, relationships, alliances to institutions and ideas, before the imminence of disaster and the thirst for excitation.
Erotic desire is not simply a desire for recognition the constitution of a message, an act of communication or an exchange: it is a mode of surface contact with things and substances, with a world, that engenders and induces transformations, intensifications and becoming something other. Not simply a rise and fall, a waxing and waining, but movement, processes transmutations. That is what constitutes the seduction and power of desire, its capacity to shake up, rearrange, reorganize the body's forms and sensations, to make the subject and body as such dissolve into something else other than what they are habitually. (Desire need not culminate – sexual intercourse, but may end in production.) The production of sensations never felt, alignments never thought, energies never tapped, regions never known.
Stanley Kubrick is a generous transcriber of appearances, pedantically exact in the details, insistent about where objects begin and end, what light and colour do, what gravity forms have. Here you are, his frames tell you, exactly here: this is what it looks like. Yet for all the apparent accessibility, Kubrick's world feels both remote and unfamiliar, somewhat staged and a little unsafe.
Dislocation seems intended. Embracing the obvious with apparent urgency, Kubrick's work forces us to confront and admit to the secrecy of the phenomenal world. By its exactitude and clarity, his work proclaims a suddenness: The brightness of the present moment. And yet something other than the present is offered – the trace of recent events or more potently, a premonition of events to come.
The characteristic stillness in Kubrick's frames endures no longer than the first glance. Quickly they vibrate, objects come apart. The glass is about to shatter; the mirror is about to crack. This is the moment Kubrick prolongs - to make us tense. The moment, eternalised by Kubrick's vision, nonetheless hangs on to its connection with real time, precisely to play upon the nerves. There is a consistent counter-motion in Kubrick's presentation of time and place. Violence is in the air, and under the clearest of skies.
Kubrick portrays menace in Eyes Wide Shut by the most subtle means; the clues are oblique barely suggestive. The burden of interpretation, the invention of narrative, unfolds elegantly.
In Kubrick's world, both place and objects are real but their condition is perilous, their permanence in doubt. Transformation (breakage as opposed to metamorphosis) is latent in his presentation of the solid in the context of real life, eternal in the context of art. This is the source of the characteristic quiet in Kubrick's films, which is nevertheless nothing if not disquieting.
In Eyes Wide Shut Kubrick's subject comes from an ontological bestiary. The concern is the thing that is both eternal and transitory, both real and non-existent. His subject is edges, of both characters and states. The borders that suggest those in-between states of both body and mind. He frames thresholds, the moment between sleep and waking, or between desire and action; the edge between the inner and outer worlds.
Time is also seen as an edge in Kubrick's world. Characteristically things are "about" to happen, although in some scenes the mysterious event may be one that has just passed. It is as if the moment of a scene were the moment of discovery – of a crime without any clue but the corpse. Sadism pervades like an exotic waft. Kubrick imagines disaster/ violence/violation, but he does not depict it directly. Instead he makes laconic and elegant suggestion, preserves the refinement of his sensibility by the delicacy of his treatment. He allows us to translate those "vibrations" in the film into our own "shudder", to make our own response to what his intentions pretends to deny is there at all. This is another of Kubrick's borders between desire and action, good and evil, where his is the desire, and "ours" the evil. Firmly marking the edge in the film, nevertheless he allows us to cross it, to complete his thought, and in a sense, the narrative and the transgression it almost names.
How does Kubrick manage to invite both contemplation of a fixed moment and, at the same time, our interference with it? Part of an explanation concerns the inherent "drama" of many of his scenes - "theatrical set-pieces" which point to a melodrama and suggest a narrative which if not yet played is certainly conceived. In other scenes, relationships are set up among the characters where meaning seems tantalisingly available, yet provocatively withheld.
The feel of instability is implanted in the film.
Kubrick's film is about those things which, like film, keep life at one remove, and at a distance – mirrors dreams and desire. Kubrick is too subtle a film-maker too self-censoring a symbolist, to make his disappointment with life, or his distrust of it – its violence – the central subject of Eyes Wide Shut, it seems rather to lie behind the characters as a kind of near-allegorical background.
The desired/feared experience may be hinted at. The sins of the dreamer, if they commit them, are sins of thought only, just as the adventures of the reader of a book takes place in the mind alone. The intensity derives not from the notion of fulfilled love than from "adolescent" desire, the peculiar intensity of which depends precisely on its non-fulfilment. It is a world of speculation and longing that Kubrick creates.
In the context of Eyes Wide Shut as a whole, and particularly its apparent ambivalence towards life, it seems that the peculiar atmosphere generates from a certain stillness; that stillness is an expression of a refusal or fear of action, and simultaneously that its exceptional vibration speaks for a desire for it. That desire is both ambivalent and anxious, representing thoughts that cannot or should not be completed, and yet, by many hints and directions the "unfinished" symbolism seems to ask us to name the thoughts, while also remaining absolved and protected.
The meaning of this scene is intensified and complicated by how it transforms what immediately preceded it. Bill and his wife Alice (Nicole Kidman) have both just been seen in humorous counterpoint being hit on by strangers. The artificial coherence of their both being pursued simultaneously could have progressed smoothly in the construction of a romantic farce had Kubrick not broken the mood by linking this marital by-play incongruously to the sexual/physical drug–coma danger in bathroom. The scenes of Bill and Alice "playing" at flirtation downstairs have no ordinary connection with the "perversions" played out upstairs, yet their temporal proximity enables an interpretative link. The conscious method of organising meaning is questioned. We begin asking explicatory questions: What does the fact that this disparate activity is happening in the same sequence point to? Is the upstairs transgression the reverse side to the partially restrained sexual counter-play maintained downstairs? The links are established to set inquiry in motion.
Next comes the crucial event that will generate the rest of the narrative. Alice shocks Bill by describing a moment of sexual fantasy and obsession that occurred a year earlier. This memory is revealed in something like the manner of a confessional with Alice as the "guilty" protagonist, Bill the silent, patriarchal "priest".
Alice's story doesn't simply unearth Bill's capacity for jealousy. More precisely, she reveals that her erotic feelings could have led her to destroy her marriage and family. The moment this hypothetical death is postulated Alice and Bill are rescued from further discussion by a phone call. Bill is called away because one of his patients has actually died.
Bill's comforting of the grief-stricken daughter mourning her dead father replicates the previous crisis moment with Alice. The actress superficially physically resembles Kidman, while her European accent vaguely suggests the male stranger who tried to seduce Alice at the party. Then there's the recurring theme of death threatening the stability of the family, and the fact that Bill must act as listener, again almost as a priest, as the woman recounts her father's last day. However, what is most prescient is the way the mourner's hysterical sexual behaviour mimics and amplifies what is occurring internally with Bill – though neither character is entirely conscious of it. Bill's anodyne platitude to counter the daughter's sexual provocation – "You're very upset now" – is only slightly more incongruous than the way her desperate plea – "Don't despise me" – refers to the shame and guilt that Bill experiences. He is wanting to "revenge" his wife, and an inexplicable opportunity is being presented.
Dialogue and behaviour cross the boundaries of identity in complex expressions and formulations, as feelings that should be articulated remain blocked. Language is both powerful and powerless, vividly suggesting significance without ever delivering satisfactory, functional meanings. Plot actions in Eyes Wide Shut unfold in an analogous mixture of pedantic realism and extravagant fantasy. Potential meanings – hinted at, suggested, cross-referenced, alluded to – start multiplying like accelerating cancerous cells. It is very much a process of anxiety.
As soon as Harford leaves home we are subsequently forced to mimic his fierce gaze as he surveys further heterosexual options to his deconstructing marriage. It is here that Kubrick's strategy becomes apparent: we the viewers experience Harford's "will-he won't-he" dilemma as if we were wearing him as a mask.
Another key sequence occurs in the scene between Bill and a prostitute named Domino. (Scenes in the film condition or reflect the ones before or after with decisive effects). Preferring not to specify the sexual practices available Domino says, "I'd rather not put it into words." Unknowingly she is compounding Bill's obsessive-compulsive state – she is unaware how disturbed Bill is that his wife Alice transfigured her sexual desires into words. Her statement is meaningful in its allusion to the film's themes and structure, yet meaningless in the interpersonal context in which Bill grants Domino no access to this structural awareness.
The strategy of having characters say things to others that are critically significant but in no way follow the discernible logic of the interpersonal situation, therefore restricting the characters from comprehending the meaning they are generating, is carried to its extreme in the orgy sequence. Everything spoken to Bill during the course of events appears highly charged with significance yet nothing has a legitimate referent. Even before the orgy is interpreted/vindicated at the end of the film by Ziegler, we are confronted with a dazzling linguistic enigma. One moment – suggestive yet consequently absurd – comes directly from Bill himself, who seeks to evade the atmosphere of ominous warnings of humiliating chastisement (an undefined punishment for an uncommitted crime to be enacted by an unknown, vaguely patriarchal authority) by saying in absurd self-defence: "I think you're mistaking me for someone elseâ€
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Frisco_Kid
- Nuovi Impulsi
- Messaggi: 333
- Iscritto il: 14/05/2001, 2:00
Non ne sono molto sicuro, visto che in EWS una parte fu offerta a Eva Erzigova (doveva recitare(?) completamente nuda), che rifiutó. E poi Stanley aveva in testa fin dagli anni '70 l'idea di girare un film porno (il celeberrimo Blue Movie), e credo che Jenna sarebbe stata della partita, probabilmenteIn data 2001-11-08 15:52, maxxx scrive:
che Stanley Kubrick NON puó essere considerato hollywoodiano
che Eyes Wide Shut NON ha niente a che fare coi porno come sono intesi
che Jenna NON avrebbe mai avuto una parte in un film di Stanley...hehehehehehehe