Los críticos de cine y los periodistas deportivos que le ponen puntaje a los jugadores de fútbol son seguramente los cronistas que más objeciones deben soportar sobre sus opiniones.
Sin embargo, parece que esto no es nuevo. Fíjense sino en el review que le hizo H.G. Wells a Metropolis, la joya del expresionismo alemán, en la edición del 17 de abril de 1927 en el The New York Times.
I have recently seen the silliest film.
I do not believe it would be possible to make one sillier.
And as this film sets out to display the way the world is going,
I think [my book] The Way the World is Going may very well concern itself with this film.
It is called Metropolis, it comes from the great Ufa studios in Germany, and the public is given to understand that it has been produced at enormous cost.
It gives in one eddying concentration almost every possible foolishness, cliché, platitude, and muddlement about mechanical progress and progress in general served up with a sauce of sentimentality that is all its own.
It is a German film and there have been some amazingly good German films, before they began to cultivate bad work under cover of a protective quota. And this film has been adapted to the Anglo-Saxon taste, and quite possibly it has suffered in the process, but even when every allowance has been made for that, there remains enough to convince the intelligent observer that most of its silliness must be fundamental.
Possibly I dislike this soupy whirlpool none the less because I find decaying fragments of my own juvenile work of thirty years ago, The Sleeper Awakes, floating about in it.
Capek’s Robots have been lifted without apology, and that soulless mechanical monster of Mary Shelley’s, who has fathered so many German inventions, breeds once more in this confusion.
Originality there is none. Independent thought, none.
Vía Nerdcore
Este post lo escribió , posteado en Wednesday, January 20, 2010 at 10:35 am, filed under Cine. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.
