Interiors Film Quotes

I dont believe in learning from other peoples pictures. I think you should learn from your own interior vision of things and discover, as I say, Innocently, as though there had never been anybody.

In loving him, I saw a cigarette between the fingers of a hand, smoke blowing backwards into the room and sputtering planes diving low through the clouds. In loving him, I saw men encouraging each other to lay down their arms. In loving him, I saw small-town laborers creating excavations that other men spend their lives trying to fill. In loving him, I saw moving films of stone buildings; I saw a hand in prison dragging snow in from the sill. In loving him, I saw great houses being erected that would soon slide into the waiting and stirring seas. I saw him freeing me from the silences of the interior life.

How marvellously lie our anxieties, in filmy layers, one over the other! Take away that which has lain on the upper surface for so long—the care of cares—the only one, as it seemed to you, between your soul and the radiance of Heaven—and straight you find a new stratum there. As physical science tells us no fluid is without its skin, so does it seem with this fine medium of the soul, and these successive films of care that form upon its surface on mere contact with the upper air and light.

A mysterious and marvelous confectionary utopia, a colorful interior world filled with wonder and sweet marvel. Most of the actors hadn’t seen the Chocolate Room prior to filming, and even my brief peek didn’t prepare me for the sheer magnitude of this set.

Before the campaign was scarcely under way Hitler solved the problem of his citizenship. On February 25 it was announced that the Nazi Minister of the Interior of the state of Brunswick had named Herr Hitler an attaché of the legation of Brunswick in Berlin. Through this comic-opera maneuver the Nazi leader became automatically a citizen of Brunswick and hence of Germany and was therefore eligible to run for President of the German Reich. Having leaped over this little hurdle with ease, Hitler threw himself into the campaign with furious energy, crisscrossing the country, addressing large crowds at scores of mass meetings and whipping them up into a state of frenzy. Goebbels and Strasser, the other two spellbinders of the party, followed a similar schedule. But this was not all. They directed a propaganda campaign such as Germany had never seen. They plastered the walls of the cities and towns with a million screeching colored posters, distributed eight million pamphlets and twelve million extra copies of their party newspapers, staged three thousand meetings a day and, for the first time in a German election, made good use of films and gramophone records, the latter spouting forth from loudspeakers on trucks.

In loving him, I saw men encouraging each other to lay down their arms. In loving him, I saw small-town laborers creating excavations that other men spend their lives trying to fill. In loving him, I saw moving films of stone buildings; I saw a hand in prison dragging snow in from the sill. In loving him, I saw great houses being erected that would soon slide into the waiting and stirring seas. I saw him freeing me from the silences of the interior life.

Until 1957 the West German Ministry of the Interior banned any screenings of Wolfgang Staudte’s (East German) film of Heinrich Mann’s Der Untertan (‘Man of Straw’, 1951)—objecting to its suggestion that authoritarianism in Germany had deep historical roots. This might seem to confirm the view that post-war Germany was suffering from a massive dose of collective amnesia; but the reality was more complex. Germans did not so much forget as selectively remember. Throughout the fifties West German officialdom encouraged a comfortable view of the German past in which the Wehrmacht was heroic, while Nazis were in a minority and had been properly punished.

So we entertain an idea, or a linked sequence of ideas, and we blink to separate and punctuate that idea from what follows. Similarly—in film—a shot presents us with an idea, or a sequence of ideas, and the cut is a “blink” that separates and punctuates those ideas.16 At the moment you decide to cut, what you are saying is, in effect, “I am going to bring this idea to an end and start something new.” It is important to emphasize that the cut by itself does not create the “blink moment”—the tail does not wag the dog. If the cut is well-placed, however, the more extreme the visual discontinuity—from dark interior to bright exterior, for instance—the more thorough the effect of punctuation will be.

But despite the Secret Service–like behavior, and the regal nomenclature, there’s nothing hierarchical about the way an ant colony does its thinking. “Although queen is a term that reminds us of human political systems,” Gordon explains, “the queen is not an authority figure. She lays eggs and is fed and cared for by the workers. She does not decide which worker does what. In a harvester ant colony, many feet of intricate tunnels and chambers and thousands of ants separate the queen, surrounded by interior workers, from the ants working outside the nest and using only the chambers near the surface. It would be physically impossible for the queen to direct every worker’s decision about which task to perform and when.” The harvester ants that carry the queen off to her escape hatch do so not because they’ve been ordered to by their leader; they do it because the queen ant is responsible for giving birth to all the members of the colony, and so it’s in the colony’s best interest—and the colony’s gene pool—to keep the queen safe. Their genes instruct them to protect their mother, the same way their genes instruct them to forage for food. In other words, the matriarch doesn’t train her servants to protect her, evolution does. Popular culture trades in Stalinist ant stereotypes—witness the authoritarian colony regime in the animated film Antz—but in fact, colonies are the exact opposite of command economies. While they are capable of remarkably coordinated feats of task allocation, there are no Five-Year Plans in the ant kingdom. The colonies that Gordon studies display some of nature’s most mesmerizing decentralized behavior: intelligence and personality and learning that emerges from the bottom up.

– Como está indo o seu seminário sobre desastres de carros? – Já examinamos centenas de colisões. Carros com carros. Carros com caminhões. Caminhões com ônibus. Motos com carros. Carros com helicópteros. Caminhões com caminhões. Meus alunos acham que esses filmes são proféticos. Que ilustram a tendência suicida da tecnologia. O impulso de suicidar-se, a sede incontrolável de suicídio. – O que você diz a eles? – De modo geral, são filmes classe B, feitos para a televisão, para passar em autocines do interior. Digo aos meus alunos que não devem procurar o apocalipse nesses filmes. Vejo esses desastres como parte de uma velha tradição de otimismo norte-americano. São eventos positivos, afirmativos. Cada desastre tenta ser melhor que o anterior. Há um aperfeiçoamento constante de instrumentos e perícia, desafios enfrentados. O diretor diz: “Quero uma jamanta virando duas cambalhotas e produzindo uma bola de fogo alaranjada com diâmetro de doze metros que dê para iluminar a cena”. Digo aos meus alunos que, se eles querem pensar em termos de tecnologia, têm que levar isso em conta, essa tendência a realizar atos grandiosos, a correr atrás de um sonho. – Um sonho? E como seus alunos reagem? – Igualzinho a você. “Um sonho?” Tanto sangue, vidro quebrado, borracha cantando? Tanto desperdício, tantos indícios de uma civilização em decadência? – E aí? – Aí eu lhes digo que o que eles estão vendo não é decadência, e sim inocência. O filme deixa de lado a complexidade das paixões humanas para nos mostrar uma coisa fundamental, cheia de fogo, barulho e ímpeto. É uma realização conservadora de desejos, uma ânsia de ingenuidade. Queremos voltar à pureza. Queremos voltar para trás na trajetória da experiência da sofisticação e das responsabilidades que ela implica. Meus alunos dizem: “Veja quantos corpos esmagados, membros amputados. Que raio de inocência é essa?”. – E o que você diz a eles? – Que não consigo encarar um desastre de carros num filme como um ato violento. É uma comemoração. Uma reafirmação de valores e crenças tradicionais. Eu associo esses desastres a feriados nacionais, como o Dia de Ação de Graças e o Dia da Independência. Nós não choramos os mortos nem celebramos milagres. Vivemos numa era de otimismo profano, de autocelebração. Vamos melhorar, prosperar, nos aperfeiçoar. Veja qualquer cena de desastre de carro de filme americano. É um momento de alegria, como uma cena de equilibrismo, de corda bamba. As pessoas que criam esses desastres conseguem captar uma serenidade, um prazer ingênuo do qual os acidentes de carro dos filmes estrangeiros não chegam nem perto. – O negócio é enxergar além da violência. – Justamente. Enxergar além da violência, Jack. E ver esse espírito maravilhoso de inocência e ludismo.

You still want to know, don’t you? You’re still curious. I mean, I don’t blame you. Here’s the thing: does it matter exactly what happened and why those girls were excluded? It’s irrelevant. It happened. Done. Over. I’d rather not go into it. We don’t have to reveal everything to each other. That’s another thing I’ve learned in therapy: it’s OK to be private. It’s OK to say no. It’s OK to say, “I’m not going to share that.” So, if you don’t mind, let’s just leave it there. I mean, I appreciate your interest and concern, I really do. But you don’t need to pollute your brain with that stuff. Go and, like, listen to a nice song instead. MY SERENE AND LOVING FAMILY—FILM TRANSCRIPT INTERIOR.

We were taking a DC-10 all the way across the country, from the east coast to the west. Together we flew into the Red Centre, the interior of the continent and the location of Ayers Rock--one of Australia’s most recognizable icons. “Have a look at it,” Steve said when we arrived. “It’s the heart of Australia.” I could see why. A huge red mountain rose up out of the flat, sandy landscape. The rock appeared out of place in the great expanse of the desert. The Aborigines knew it as Uluru, and they preferred that tourists did not clamber over their sacred site. We respectfully filmed only the areas we were allowed to access with the local Aborigines’ blessing. As we approached the rock, Steve saw a lizard nearby. He turned to the camera to talk about it. I was concentrating on Steve, Steve was concentrating on the lizard, and John was filming. Bindi was with us, and she could barely take two steps on her own at this point, so I knew I could afford to watch Steve. But after John called out, “Got it,” and we turned back to Bindi, we were amazed at what we saw. Bindi was leaning against the base of Ayer’s Rock. She had placed both her palms against the smooth stone, gently put her cheek up to the rock, and stood there, mesmerized. “She’s listening,” Steve whispered. It was an eerie moment. The whole crew stopped and stared. Then Bindi suddenly seemed to come out of her trance. She plopped down and started stuffing the red sand of Uluru into her mouth like it was delicious.

We were taking a DC-10 all the way across the country, from the east coast to the west. Together we flew into the Red Centre, the interior of the continent and the location of Ayers Rock--one of Australia’s most recognizable icons. “Have a look at it,” Steve said when we arrived. “It’s the heart of Australia.” I could see why. A huge red mountain rose up out of the flat, sandy landscape. The rock appeared out of place in the great expanse of the desert. The Aborigines knew it as Uluru, and they preferred that tourists did not clamber over their sacred site. We respectfully filmed only the areas we were allowed to access with the local Aborigines’ blessing. As we approached the rock, Steve saw a lizard nearby. He turned to the camera to talk about it. I was concentrating on Steve, Steve was concentrating on the lizard, and John was filming. Bindi was with us, and she could barely take two steps on her own at this point, so I knew I could afford to watch Steve. But after John called out, “Got it,” and we turned back to Bindi, we were amazed at what we saw. Bindi was leaning against the base of Ayer’s Rock. She had placed both her palms against the smooth stone, gently put her cheek up to the rock, and stood there, mesmerized. “She’s listening,” Steve whispered. It was an eerie moment. The whole crew stopped and stared. Then Bindi suddenly seemed to come out of her trance. She plopped down and started stuffing the red sand of Uluru into her mouth like it was delicious. We also filmed a thorny devil busily licking up ants from the sandy soil. The one-of-a-kind lizard is covered with big, lumpy, bumpy scales and spikes. “When it rains,” Steve told the camera, “the water droplets run along its body and end up channeling over its face, so that if there is any rain at all, the thorny devil can get a drink without having to look for water!” It’s a pity she won’t remember any of it, I thought, watching Bindi crouch down to examine the thorny devil’s tongue as it madly ate ants. But we had the photos and the footage. What a lucky little girl, I thought. We’ll have all these special experiences recorded for her to take out and enjoy anytime she wants to remember.

o bergman, explicou-lhe ele, só quer saber do interior das pessoas, mais nada. o resto é tudo acessório, só lhe interessa o retrato intenso do ser humano, por isso é o mais valioso dos realizadores. atente sobretudo no modo como dilacera as atrizes e as deixa perecer diante da câmera. vão-se destruindo, por dentro, consomem-se.

Pelos arredores da Casa da Cultura existia um cinema pornô em que eu ia para dormir, porque o calor que fazia, na minha idade, sabe o calor, quando a minha tia me trazia do interior para um passeio, outro passeio, para o curso de datilografia, quando eu vim viver um tempo com ela, na Boa Vista, não tive medo de enfrentar os inferninhos refrigerados, a fila dos sertanejos em pé, atrás das poltronas manchadas, eu dormia, no começo, durante o filme, é verdade, mas deixava que repousassem em mim os paus dos mulatos, vendedores de roletes de cana, os camelôs de relógios, os baixinhos do córrego, hoje, juro, eu me sinto vingado, os cinemas, todos morreram, eu continuo vivo, e rio.

A basic premise of Expressionism was that mise-en-scène - the visual space of the film (as well as of fiction, theatrical presentation, and painting) - should express the stressed psychological state of either its main character, or more universally, the culture at large. Edvard Munch's painting The Scream (1893) best exemplifies this effect, though it actually predates and influenced the Expressionist movement. This painting of a figure on a bridge, standing in front of a violent multicolored sky, hands held up in anxiety and terror, is a dominant image for the twentieth century. It encapsulates the Expressionist desire to make the world a reflection of the interior anguish it has caused.

Se de facto este é um tema fundante dos film studies, não podemos, no entanto e apesar da temática, deixar de olhar com uma aura de singularidade para o presente livro de José Bogalheiro, que corresponde à edição da sua tese de doutoramento em psicologia, especialidade psicanálise. Com uma fulgurante e invulgar erudição e com um estilo que, ao mimar na escrita científica o ideal do “cineasta tecelão” (p. 371) que “pensa poeticamente” (p. 472), o livro propõese indagar, no interior da experiência fílmica, das diferentes dimensões e sentidos de uma noção que o autor apelida de “figuração cinematográfica”.(...)essa qualidade evidenciada pelas teias – “a tenacidade, resistência e a elasticidade” – são também o seu “modo de produção” (p. 378), isto é, essas são as qualidades de toda esta investigação como um todo, que, ante o parco panorama da publicação de obras desta natureza em Portugal, se afigura como um monumento singular, poético, rigoroso, sobre o qual o leitor se sentirá impelido a voltar por certo no futuro, tal qual “rebobinador” confesso. CARLOS EDUARDO NATÁLIO

Wide angles are favored by slow cinema. A tableau, whether exterior or interior, offers multiple points of interest. One can see the action, the surroundings, the people talking, the people listening, the weather, and so on. The frame doesn’t direct the viewer’s gaze; it frees it to wander.

Creativity is not copywriting or art directing, creativity is not interior, graphic, or fashion design, creativity is not mimicry or doodle, is not gesture or token, is not a clever text message, a new and even sillier pair of trousers, or an unmade bed, it’s not your shitty computer music, or your shitty homemade films, or your shitty Web site with a flashing cock. Creativity is . . . creativity is a massive and serious lifetime’s endeavor to further humankind’s fundamental understanding of itself.

Some imaginative Rebels play with their idea of their identity. One Rebel reported: “When I need to do repetitive chores, everything in me screams ‘Noooo.’ So I play a game I call ‘As If.’ I enact being somebody else or doing stuff while being filmed: e.g., I enact being a perfect butler, cook, interior designer, famous poet, cool scientist…sounds cheesy, but it works.” One Rebel combined the strategy of identity with the Rebel love of challenge: “To get things done, I trick my mind with a dare. I tell myself, ‘I’m a Rebel who can stick to a routine and follow through.’ This challenge excites me. It’s rebellious to be a Rebel who can do disciplined things that you don’t expect.

I’ll recount all the interactions where I went from having an engaging conversation on craft with a man to hearing about his sexual dissatisfaction with his wife, who used to be passionate and is currently on fertility drugs. Suddenly, we’re talking about the way his college girlfriend left her boots on when she fucked and how marriage is “a lot of hard work.” What that translates to is: My wife doesn’t turn me on and you aren’t a model but you sure are young and probably some bold new sexual moves have emerged since the last time I was single in 1992 so let’s try it and then you can go back to being married to your work and I’ll go back to being married to an “eco-friendly interior decorator” and I’ll never watch any of your films again.

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The Times ad marked a seminal intersection in the history of cancer. With it, cancer declared its final emergence from the shadowy interiors of medicine into the full glare of public scrutiny, morphing into an illness of national and international prominence. This was a generation that no longer whispered about cancer. There was cancer in newspapers and cancer in books, cancer in theater and in films: in 450 articles in the New York Times in 1971; in Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's Cancer Ward, a blistering account of a cancer hospital in the Soviet Union; in Love Story, a 1970 film about a twenty-four-year-old woman who dies of leukemia; in Bang the Drum Slowly, a 1973 release about a baseball catcher diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease; in Brian's Song, the story of the Chicago Bears star Brian Piccolo, who died of testicular cancer. A torrent of op-ed pieces and letters appeared in newspapers and magazines.

Cu toate că testosteronul încă ne mai curge prin vene și că uneori ne face plăcere să ne luăm la pumni cu câte un necunocut care s-a uitat chiorâș la noi, în ființa umană prevalează alte atribute (valori și principii) care domolesc acele tendințe vechi și, în aparență, de nestăvilit. Altruismul, prietenia, respectul, munca în echipă și sacrificiul cu bună știință în favoarea idealurilor, toate acestea se opun agresivității oarbe și haotice. Este adevărat că nu prea ne dăm silința să le cultivăm ori să le punem în practică, însă important este că mijloacele există și că ne sunt la îndemână. Biologia nu ne poate explica decât anumite aspecte ale comportamentului nostru, fără a-l și justifica. Logica umană are nevoie de o bază etică și morală, adică de umanizare. După cum spunea Jung, „să-i permitem războinicului interior să se manifeste întrucât numai așa îl putem depăși”. Dacă lipsa dorinței de a obține glorie poate reduce proporțiile războaielor și dacă respectul favorizează crearea condițiilor indispensabile pentru atenuarea agresivității, atunci ce ne împiedică să ne schimbăm? De ce nu-l putem înfrânge pe mercenarul din noi? Răspunsul este simplu: cultura patriarhalistă preamărește și rpomovează o imagine agresivă și distorsionată a bărbatului: „Dacă nu ți se dă de bună voie, atunci ia-l cu forța.” Educația realizată în societate nu recomandă depășirea stadiului de războinic, ci mai curând îl glorifică și conservă într-o fază primitivă. Indiferent de vârstă, majoritatea activităților cotidiene ale bărbatului gravitează în jurul unor înfruntări fundamental competitive și/sau distructive. Dacă am analiza îndeaproape conținutul anumitor filme, jocuri pe calculator, haine bărbătești, sporturi rezervate bărbaților, jucării și benzi desenate, am observa că în toate aceste cazuri apologia violenței masculine se află pe cele mai înalte culmi ale sale. Iată cum se păstrează în viață acel spirit de prădător care se presupune că sălășluiește înlăuntrul fiecărui băiat. Răpăitul tobelor încă mai răsună.

Guide for your ISO settings • 50-200 ISO For very bright sunny days or when you want the ultimate in smooth, sharp images. • 400 ISO A good all-round setting, suitable for overcast skies or when you need a fast shutter speed. • 800 ISO For interiors, low-light outdoor subjects or action photography when you don’t want to use flash. • 1600 ISO For night shooting or indoor low available light, or with very long lenses. Grain/noise may be a problem. Try using your noise reduction setting. • 3200 ISO Much the same as 1600 but with more grain/noise. The grainy effect of fast film can look great with black and white subjects.

Americans’ love affair with television and tabloid journalism, along with their constant immersion in the vast offerings of the media and the Internet’s dynamic communication mechanism operates to distinguish the American psyche from that of other nationalities. The onslaught of visual information available to Americans operates to deaden their innate curiosity of the natural world and to numb their interior world. Instead of exploring nature and ideas, Americans demonstrate a proclivity to scan headlines, watch television and films, and surf the Webb in order passively to partake in cultural events. The immense amount of social and political news that the average citizen takes in is bound to reduce the attention span of Americans, especially citizens devoted to celebrity watching, the distinctive American obsession of ogling the film, television, music, and sport stars whom draw media attention and captivate the public of each generation.

We went to Arizona to film the interiors of Stir Crazy in an actual prison. From Tucson, where we all stayed, it was an hour-and-a-half drive to the Arizona State Penitentiary. Sidney used real prisoners as extras. They had all been cleared by the prison authorities to work with us, and each prisoner was paid for every day he worked.

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I flew home with Iran Air, which gave me six and a half hours to truly appreciate the impact of the international sanctions first hand. The scratchy seat fabric, cigarette-burned plastic washbasins and whiff of engine oil throughout the cabin reminded me of late seventies coach travel, which was probably the last time these planes had had a facelift. I tried to convince myself that Iran Air had prioritised the maintenance of engines and safety features over the interior decor but I wasn’t convinced, especially when the seatbelt refused to budge. The in-flight entertainment had certainly been spared an upgrade, consisting of one small television at the front of the plane showing repeat screenings of a gentle propaganda film featuring chador-clad women gazing at waterfalls and flowers with an appropriately tinkly soundtrack. The stewardesses’ outfits were suitably dreary too. Reflecting Iran Air’s status as the national carrier of the Islamic Republic, they were of course modest to the point of unflattering, with not a single glimpse of neck or hair visible beneath the military style cap and hijab. As we took off, I examined my fellow passengers. Nobody was praying and as soon as we were airborne, every female passenger removed her headscarf without ceremony.

Fisicamente, habitamos um espaço, mas, sentimentalmente, somos habitados por uma memória. Memória que é a de um espaço e de um tempo, memória no interior da qual vivemos, como uma ilha entre dois mares: um que dizemos passado, outro que dizemos futuro. Podemos navegar no mar do passado próximo graças à memória pessoal que conservou a lembrança das suas rotas, mas para navegar no mar do passado remoto teremos de usar as memórias que o tempo acumulou, as memórias de um espaço continuamente transformado, tão fugidio como o próprio tempo. Esse filme de Lisboa, comprimindo o tempo e expandindo o espaço, seria a memória perfeita da cidade. O que sabemos dos lugares é coincidirmos com eles durante um certo tempo no espaço que são. O lugar estava ali, a pessoa apareceu, depois a pessoa partiu, o lugar continuou, o lugar tinha feito a pessoa, a pessoa havia transformado o lugar.