Lolita and kubrick

Text N 5
Kubrick is a genius; certainly he is the director we all would like to be. Lolita can be considered as part in the evolutionary scale of his filmmaking. The same basis was carried to the limit in subsequent films like "The Shining" and "A Clockwork Orange”. The way he makes the camera move, starting where it should end, remembered and copied a thousand times by modern filmmakers. The clock does not even exist for more than fifteen minutes; this is the level of Lolita's school, if you start doing so.

The script is clever enough to bring all, to a situation that always seemed uncomfortable for many since romanticism claims that "love has no age." Humbert, Lolita´s lover, also thinks the same and that´s how it starts; a career into madness by the love of this young girl who from the vicissitudes of destiny will put to him to the test. He will now achieve his dream. Kubrick manages to put something original from the cliché of a man who cries, gets sick, and goes crazy ... for a young lady, nothing new. Obstacles do not matter; he knocks down every limitation, but cannot with all. If the unrequited love would not die, it kills just like Joaquin Sabina signs. That happens in Lolita. Love and death are inevitable and intense. Stanley handles it with great skill, keeping the audience interested throughout the entire film even when we know more or less the ending.

In a situation like that most people would condemn, but in reality not only awakens the most selfless compassion, after all, he is someone who stays there, suffering, unable to walk forward. Huge apology of love, and whims, when all joined together they can be lethal. The color would not have been, plus the use of white and black allows Kubrick to shows a deeper look into the emotion of the moment. However, light, sound, and the thousands of details in the film are the characteristic feature in Kubrick´s style of cinematography. The joint work that manages to do something magical when push the bottom rec. Lolita is full of it. Kubrick's final step to become the leader, number one. Without a doubt

Text N3 Journalism: Good bye brother

Text 4 journalism

I told everybody “brother” like friend or hommie, and if I have repented several times I found people who don’t deserves to be qualified like brother, this is not the case. Rather, the anger and helplessness of knowing that the world today produces an enormous injustice. Where can get those emotions? To the paper that holds everything.

Paul Lazarini, a man who like me in the fact that the two work in the little film world that exist in Ecuador, and needs the little money that you won in these style of job, but he did and cared in thing much more productive that fill his dollar account, he care the city where he lived like a few people do but one week ago left his house for a bike ride, was hit by a bus, he never returned.

Cut off the metal and tires, left to breathe and exist in the ground that he cared as if it were his life, a motherfucker bus drivers think that he was in a F1 racing killed a one person. Professional tuning wheel and addicts!! In the capital don’t matter how much you accelerate you never go so far for the street system, but if you accelerate like Montoya or Schumager you cause an accident. One like the Lazarini family is suffering right now

The driver want to escape but the people can capture, when the police came to the accident they realize that the owner of the bus was the Colonel?, So to get them there duty?, For the benefit of a superior and yourself, creating a circle of complacency and complicity of those who are here to provide security at all?. Lying down, do not forget.

It is absurd that people know the route determined by ecological, either by necessity or conviction, potentially risking their lives much more than people like who are laziness to get a bicycle. The decision between having metal box there that you feel isolated or feel brother of the world and support it with simple things like don’t drive a car. Respect and support for cyclist’s, now that this stupid system killed one of yours.

Journalims tex 2 (My holiday)

My last holidays

I feel privilaged for that Ecuador has many vacation spots to get away from the routine that consumes our daily lives. No matter what your tastes way be or how much money you have, there is something for everyone to enjoy on the holidays. All of my people headed for the coast; Esmeraldas was the hot spot because of all its beaches. Atacames for the travelers with a low budget. Playa Almendro and Casablanca for the upper middle class. Unfortunately, I stayed home alone.
The city was pretty much abandoned, just my luck. I am bored with nothing to do an the 90% of Quito was chilling at the beach; what an irony. Two friends for the hood left early on Friday for El coca on a journey to find a Shaman. They wanted to explore that side of the country, unknown to them. Once again Y was left behind but this time with some company; a friend of mine gave me her shoulder lie on. Lucky for me, a bit more as well. I share the philosophy of John Lennon, after all the excess, sorrows and misfortunes, one of the things that gives some reason to life is being able to wake up next to you loved one. Even thought I am not his “John” and she isn’t my “Yoko”. Michelle and I have always had a close relationship with one another; now we are closer than ever.

Next morning we had brownies and orange juice for breakfast. That morning we celebrated each others “not birthdays”. We went out for a walk and realized that Quito, without all its chaos and noise just isn’t Quito. Once again I was left alone because Michelle took off with her family, she left like the rest.
Sunday morning come by and I took off to Quito, I needed a flash memory as soon as possible. Funny how people nowadays have become so dependent on technology. I think mankind has always been dependents on something so technology is not a big surprise. We need our lives to be captured and recorder on a computer or else we feel it doesn’t exist. That afternoon spend with Will, buddy of mine, writing a script for the future production project. Although we put all our effort into it, our teacher didn’t seen to like our work. Its not big deal, I never really considered my teachers opinion in the past; so why should I star now.

It was back to my house where now my family had gotten back from their trip to Latacunga. I was shocked to learn that I was almost left motherless. She had fainted while Chimborazo but luckily she got better soon after. My family had not forgotten me and brought back a Diablo Uma mask, witch I have looked for everywhere and couldn’t find. Everything must come to and end and this holiday was no different. Time to get back to the routine that enslaves us. The next party we have to look forward to is Fiestas de Quito

text N1 Journalism: The street art

Street art embodies all artistic expression taking part in the city. It´s roots sprung from the graffiti culture started in New York during the seventies, where Harlem trains were being spray painted just as did any other neighborhood wall, populated by mostly Puerto Rican vicinities whose motto became “Viva Puerto Rico libre”. Street art mixes stencils and tags but does not have it’s own style or language, like hip-hop graffiti does.
In the last decade the planet has witnessed a globalization of this movement. Some of the mayor metropolises around the world have come together through festivals or tours being held by the same people who practice and promote the art. Some of the cities involved in the movement are Madrid, Berlin, New York, Mexico DF and Sao Paulo.
One of the key elements is the great impact of congregation that causes within the city. Because the art is being exposed on city walls all audiences can admire it, even those who normally would not be interested in being in contact with street art can see these modern age masterpieces.
Besides having creativity, each artist must be aware of the legality issues that come into play whenever performing the art. It should be stressed that most people involved in the movement are art students, steering away from any gang or vandalism influences.
The true influences in street art can vary nowadays. Utilizing in formalist art with abstract impressionism and even protest art, you get a mix that crystallizes an outcome of extraordinary creativity.
With the same variety as it´s influences, the instruments and tools used for street art are many. Not limiting to just the use of spray cans; you can also include paint, stickers and any other material that comes to mind to better and enrich that piece of art making it more original.
For the majority, Quito has a clear focus on graffiti with a more hip-hop style. But in recent years different initiatives have brought out a more pure concept of street art, mainly with the latest festival, DETONARTE.

todo cambia

Cuando uno es puberto tiene todo el empacho y derecho de equivocarse, estas dejando toda esa nota de jugar, de reírte por pendejadas y estas asumiendo que el mundo va mas allá de las cuatro cosas que citas importantes en tu vida, es lamparísima. Están las preguntas, las miles de preguntas retomando en la cabeza. Cero respuestas, los cuchos apenas cachan el mundo donde uno vive y en todo caso es mejor irlas respondiéndote vos mismo. Experiencia carajo

El mejor maestro era la MTV, no esa basura de Next Gay o Sweet sixteen donde vemos a los pelucones gringos complacerse mientras los dólares vuelan, tampoco estaban RBD ni Daddy yankee, el representante latino allá dizque, lejos de su música o cualquier otra, eso es lo que la señal de Latinoamérica proyecta al mundo, somos unos noveleros copiones quienes dicen tener identidad latina pero se hacen conocer al mundo como Daddy…Yankee (no jodan chucha, donde chuchas esta lo latino??). Asi no era MTV…

La señal de mis tiempos nos daba musica, a lo duro. La primera ves que la vi senti que abri una caja de Pandora que el mundo me habia ocultado, en mi casa el unico rock valido era el de los 60s pero ni bien miro estan los Red Hot Chili Peppers con “Under the Bridge”, después aparecen los Smashing pumkins, Pearl Jam, Manson, Offspring y como si no hubiera sido suficiente Bjork y Radiohead; me exploto la cabeza. Despues escucharia Cypress, Wu tang, Rage Againts the Machine, Sublime, System of a down, Alice and Chains, Guns and Roses, Snoop Dogg, Fugees, Soda Stereo, y cientos mas que hoy componen el mapa musical que escucho all the fucking days

Pero no fue tan solo musica, Beavis y Butt-head me daban por primera ves una serie sin leccion, mientras en la TV nacional los 3x3 o los seven heaven con las moralejas cristianas abundan, huia despaborido, para reirme sin pensar en nada, de ese par de locos quienes solo piensan en television, heavy metal y aspiraciones para tirar. Behind the music mostraba el lado mas humano de las bandas con un kilometraje respetable, los unplugged eran no solo un concierto mas sino una oportunidad para escuchar en otra faceta el trabajo de varios solistas y bandas, Lauryn hill Nirvana o Café Tacuba para tres enormes ejemplos; Daria era la anti-barbie y me encantaba hubiera sido mi pelada ideal; despues jackass y South Park, una decada de su aparicion sigue dando escuela de como hacer TV loca, alejada de cualquier criterio formal o de buenas costumbres. La señal que una ves enseño como ser joven se a extingido, le gano la vulgaridad, la venta facil. Se arejunto de los estereotipos que de los cuales antes se burlaba con la satira mas corrosiva.

La señal fue parte de mi formación , hoy unico parecido es su nombre, por eso no sorprende ya nada, como en los ultimos VMA (si por que todavía mas tienen el descaro de dar premios a la musica) decidieron incluir el premio “video que debio ganar un moonman”, muy tarde por que ya mataron el espíritu de esa señal, transgresora provocadora y honesta; todo lo que hoy no es MTV .

Y tu mama tambien ( x fin me la vi)

Me lo debía , a mi sabiduría cinéfila y a que cada pana, pelada o colega me la mencionaba yo nada mas tenia que seguir con el efímero, “si me han contado”; todavía no mire la obra prime de Alfonso Cuaron, todos se recordaban al que a sido uno de los puntos ejes de las road movies en Latinoamérica. Crónica pintoresca sobre las clases en México, de una juventud que se pierde mientras hace eso de prohibido prohibir, todo revoloteado por una mujer queriendo vivir al máximo al final del camino, a pesar de si la vida aun le brota por todos los poros. Un recorrido de varios kilómetros por las geografía local y social de México se observa mientras nuestros personajes se encuentra, se conocen, pelean y luego al final, se la sacan cada uno por su camino, con la vergüenza hostigando hasta el limite. Y tu mama también es un must-see sea por aprender o disfrutar con unos nachos; un relato enorme sobre cuanto nos conocen, y al final cuanto nos conocemos nosotros.

al broder difunto

Cuando me propongo en escribir algún prospecto de guión, siempre recuerdo las cosas inusuales, aquellas en las cuales no puede dejar de pensar en la arbitrariedad del destino, o la ausencia de este. Uno de esos tantos donde simplemente no piensas como de repente cambiara, esta ves llegado al Ministerio por ciertos papeleos las autoridades me invitan a esperar mientras la pereza les deja atenderme, en la mesita un periódico “Extra”, de aquella fecha justamente. Lo pensé…y no se tal ves me reiría un poco de la sección clasificados, me equivoque.

En la hoja tres en la parte inferior derecha se daba a conocer uno de los tantos asesinatos que el diario recoge en al afán de mantenerse como el periódico mas vendido del Ecuador (…). Estabas tu, allí tirado en el asfalto ya sin vida, como uno mas de los que van Canada, pero tu ni a la peni llegaste; te dieron el vire antes.

Aparte de la lógica tristeza de ver como un pana no solo se muere sino que para rematar se transforma en noticia del XXXtra, también me sorprendió. Gil no eras, la plena. Puedo imaginar el porque, Guitas verdad pana?;quien sabe, algo innato en vos era hacerle cagadas a la gente de muy diversas formas.

No dicen nada sobre donde serás velado, eso solo lo hacen con los muertos celebres, muchos de ellos fueron igual de ratas pero les lloran y les hablan como si hubieran sido unos mártires igualitos a la madre teresa, no hay muerto mallo, bueno para el Extra si, tu mi broder. Para dar alegoría a la historia no es tu primer problema ya que tu hoja de vida muestra detenciones, y denuncias; la mayoría por estafa.

Cuando te fuiste a Sto Domingo jamás pensé volver a saber de vos aunque no te culpo de no mirar hacia atrás, si algo necesitabas era dejar atrás todos los fantasmas que te llevabas de UIO, te conseguiste unos peores y se te apago la luz antes de hora, todo por andar de chueco cuando viste mas de una ves como a tus mismos panas el diablo se les durmió, en tu caso para siempre.