Canadian filmmaker and actor Connor Jessup first encountered the mind-altering visions of Thai director Apichatpong Weerasethakul when he was a teenager, and he’s been hooked ever since. With performances in television shows like the Emmy-nominated American Crime and the Steven Spielbergβproduced Falling Skies already under his belt,
the twenty-three-year-old Jessup has recently begun to turn his attention behind the camera, making films that demonstrate the profound influence Apichatpong’s ethereal style has had on him while also establishing his own formidable talents as a writer, director, and editor. His short films, Boy (2015) and Lira’s Forest (2017)βthe latter of which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival last yearβare metaphysical meditations marked by an acute sensitivity to the natural world and a rich interplay of sound and image.
When did you first come across Apichatpong’s work, and what did it feel like to watch one of his films?
The first one I saw was Tropical Malady, when I was fifteen or sixteen. Uncle Boonmee [Who Can Recall His Past Lives] (2010) had just won the Palme d’Or at Cannes, so there was a lot of attention on him. I found the first movie of his that I could get my hands on. I’ve had this experience now with all of his films, to one degree or another, and it repeats itself every time, but the first time is something special: this feeling of being overwhelmed but also loved. If you compare his work to that of someone like Tsai Ming-liang, you see there is no austerity in what Joe does. It’s very minimal, very oblique, very warm, and there is this mix of having no idea what’s going on with this feeling of it being a friend who is doing this to me.
Has the experience of absorbing his films emotionally before you try to interpret them informed the way you think about making your own work?
When you grow up with the American way of thinking about movies, it’s kind of ingrained in you that there’s a certain amount of narrative, emotional, and physical logic that has to apply to filmmaking. There’s also an image of control. This idealization of people like Stanley Kubrick or David Fincherβwhether they’re true or not, there are these mythic images of men who exert almost mathematical control over everything they make. But with someone like Joe, when you watch his movies, at least the last five or six, you realize this impression of total control is an illusion. You realize that they’re not these intricately created puzzles that have been prefabricated. But the impression of precision comes with how relentlessly honest he is with his own instincts.
https://www.criterion.com/current/p...ns-connor-jessup-on-apichatpong-weerasethakul
Δεν μπορούμε να συμφωνήσουμε περισσότερο με τον "πιτσιρικά".
πρεπει να τελειώνουμε με τις "διάννοιες" τις "ιδιοφυίες" τα ιερά τέρατα και τις αγιοποιήσεις.
ειδα πρόσφατα ενα doc (
filmworker) για την "ιδιοφυία" Kubrick και σχεδόν τον μίσησα.. πάνω απο 20 φορές ακούσαμε οτι ηταν ιδιοφυία, μια ιδιοφυία η οποια δεν μπορούσε ομως να βρει τρόπο να πάρει αυτο που ηθελε απο τους ηθοποιοις και τους χτυπουσε και τους εβαζε να ξαναπαίξουν την σκηνη 100 φορες
μέγας εκμεταλλευτής, τσιγκούνης και απάνθρωπος και ας εχει κάνει μια απο τις αγαπημένες μου ταινίες το 2001.
O Kubrick εβγαλε μερικα μυρια και αφησε τα @ του στον
Λίον Βιτάλι..
πρόσφατα ειδα και το Full metal jacket που καλλιτεχνικά ηταν κάτω του μετρίου και στις μέρες μας μοιαζει παρωχημένο,
παρόλο την εξαιρετική σημειολογία του πρώτου μέρους.