Tan Before Brazilian Or Brazilian Before Tanning

POST OFFICE AND HAVE TO BE RIGHT TO BE: THE AFFIRMATION OF IMAGINATION IN HAROLD AND MAUDE

The immediacy of the images allows the film to express social criticism so unrelenting, and that's why the protest of some heartfelt feature films so blatantly clear and crystalline.
Harold and Maude, directed by Hal Hasby in 1971, keeps us hanging in the conflict between "being right" and "ought", between the attempt of the individual institutions grasped, and the answer, irreverent and ironic, to them. Harold is an eighteen
oppressed by a mother who tries to find a wife, Maude is an old eccentric and lover of life. Both spend their time to attend the funerals of strangers - it is during one of those who meet for the first time
- or to see the bulldozers destroying the buildings on site. Harold
mother reacts to oppression staging fake suicides and using a car as a hearse. The role of the two protagonists, as well as that of the relationship of friendship and love which they establish, are immediately evident from the very first scene.
Behind their apparent morbidity, attachment to the death and destruction behind the ridicule of their relationship, there is all the irreverence and courage to show what's really painful, absurd and grotesque it is within the social context of those years. The funeral
from which they seem attracted to, and who look with ostentatious indifference is actually the detached observation of the real death, that induced by the social system, which kills vital energy and imagination of people, imposing models of attitude forged, sadly attacked exteriority in exchange for a promise of the afterlife is unlikely.
A comedy that is the bearer of a claim gloomy and glossy, certainly aware of the difficulty of being understood and accepted. References

film

Hal Ashby (director), Harold and Maude, USA 1971

Sunblock Met Foundation

One morning Market

This morning I look like a baby, my eyes are swollen because I stayed in taste. The fresh air invigorates me on the face, along with the taste of coffee that I have in my mouth. Along a desolate road, but soon I will see a warm heart and button in the neighborhood, a block of thought concentrated, hands and feet in motion, and food items. I leave the pavement and airy in a second I melt in that nucleus, are in the market in Via Bears. My head is a ball among other things, flowing rapidly over a sea of \u200b\u200bbodies that meet and clash. The meaning of stimuli that experience congestion dazed, enchanted. The current slams me against a yellow tablecloth hanging from a tent, I hear Italian music, hundreds of tired and happy expressions appear and disappear like lightning. Sellers sucking cigarettes, some old ladies rummaging through the stalls soft mouths moving. I imagine to be a dog or a child, in the midst of those messy waves, watching walk on foot, the constant trampling on a floor of torn newspaper, mashed vegetables and blackened remnants. Through the market every Saturday morning, as a shortcut to reach the center. It 's funny to resist the mass nervous buttarmici in for five minutes. Just outside, only few steps will not feel anything, and there is a new wind and silence, as always, in the streets width of this city.