From Putin’s Russia to a Cinema Near You

direct copy-paste from bleedingcool [source]

We Are The Millers, Greece And The Matter Of Homophobia (UPDATE)

Newsbomb is the #1 ranking news website in Greece, with a reputation for being rather outspoken in a certain direction. A few weeks ago it ran an unsigned article openly supporting Putin’s anti-gay legislation in Russia and calling for similar laws to be implemented in Greece to “protect our young people from homosexuality like Putin does.”

In response, the Greek distributor Village Cinemas made a big gesture of publicly withdrawing their ad campaign for We Are The Millers from the website for “going against their company code of ethics”. There was much applause.

But something seems to have been going on behind the scenes and yesterday, Newsbomb posted a new article stating that Newsbomb and Village are working together once more after a “misunderstanding”. Official letters that were traded back and forth, appear in the article.

Newsbomb stated that their article had only a few negative comments compared to over two thousand “likes”, that it represents the majority opinion in Greece, which is constantly subjected to “racism” by the vocal minority, and that majority is the one who really has need for someone to protect their rights. It asks Village if they really agree with public displays of affection from gay people in public spaces, if they believe in free speech and if they weren’t more upset about the events in Syria and Egypt, or the economic crash in Greece.

And then they offered to host their ad campaign for We Are The Millers for free.

In response, Village has apologised to Newsbomb, stated that it is wonderful and objective news site. And… the PR man for Village, the one who spearheaded their original response to Newsbomb was surprisingly fired after eight years at the job, without any given reason.

I think Newsbomb felt they have won this little skirmish. They may have been wrong.

UPDATE:

The hashtag #No_Village_Gr has been constantly trending in Greece since yesterday, with people calling for a full boycott of the Village Roadshow multiplex chains and all movies represented by Village, because of their decision to kowtow.

comment: Village Cinemas in Greece are owned by DEMCO Group of companies (http://www.demco.gr/company/village-group), owned in turn by Mr. Contominas (chairman and main shareholder). Mr. Contominas is also President of Alpha TV (http://el.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alpha_TV), a channel which currently broadcasts Glee. Guess what, we’ve never seen any gays hugging, kissing etc. Basically, it is a different Glee from that airing on the Fox Channel. Way to go Mr. Contominas.

Βαγγελίτσα

Ακούω το λόγο της, το φιλικό και παρηγοριέμαι. Δεν της κρατάω κακία. Ζητάω τη συγνώμη της, για τα πικρά λόγια, που έβαλα στο μυαλό μου να της πω. Τι φταίνε τα βουνά… Οργίζονται κι αυτά καμιά φορά. Και κλαίνε, όπως οι άνθρωποι… Μαζί με μας, πάσχουν και υποφέρουν κι αυτά.

“Και καρτερούν την Ανοιξη, τ’ όμορφο καλοκαίρι…”.

Κατερινα Γωγου – Ιδιωνυμο (30)

Εκείνο που φοβάμαι πιο πολύ
είναι μη γίνω “ποιητής”
Μην κλειστώ στο δωμάτιο
ν’ αγναντεύω τη θάλασσα
κι απολησμονήσω.
Μην κλείσουνε τα ράμματα στις φλέβες μου
κι από θολές αναμνήσεις κι ειδήσεις της ΕΡΤ
μαυρίζω χαρτιά και πλασάρω απόψεις.
Μη με αποδεχτεί η ράτσα που μας έλειωσε
για να με χρησιμοποιήσει.
Μη γίνουνε τα ουρλιαχτά μου μουρμούρισμα
για να κοιμίζω τους δικούς μου.

(διάβασε http://www.sansimera.gr/articles/298)

Miles Walser, “A Sonnet of Invented Memories”

  1. I told you that I was a roadway of potholes, not safe to cross. You said nothing, showed up in my driveway wearing roller-skates.
  2. The first time I asked you on a date, after you hung up, I held the air between our phones against my ear and whispered, “You will fall in love with me. Then, just months later, you will fall out. I will pretend the entire time that I don’t know it’s coming.”
  3. Once, I got naked and danced around your bedroom, awkward and safe. You did the same. We held each other without hesitation and flailed lovely. This was vulnerability foreplay.
  4. The last eight times I told you I loved you, they sounded like apologies.
  5. You recorded me a CD of you repeating, “You are beautiful.” I listened to it until I no longer thought in my own voice.
  6. Into the half-empty phone line, I whispered, “We will wake up believing the worst in each other. We will spit shrapnel at each other’s hearts. The bruises will lodge somewhere we don’t know how to look for and I will still pretend I don’t know its coming.”
  7. You photographed my eyebrow shapes and turned them into flashcards: mood on one side, correct response on the other. You studied them until you knew when to stay silent.
  8. I bought you an entire bakery so that we could eat nothing but breakfast for a week. Breakfast, untainted by the day ahead, was when we still smiled at each other as if we meant it.
  9. I whispered, “I will latch on like a deadbolt to a door and tell you it is only because I want to protect you. Really, I’m afraid that without you I mean nothing.”
  10. I gave you a bouquet of plane tickets so I could practice the feeling of watching you leave.
  11. I picked you up from the airport limping. In your absence, I’d forgotten how to walk. When I collapsed at your feet, you refused to look at me until I learned to stand up without your help.
  12. Too scared to move, I stared while you set fire to your apartment – its walls decaying beyond repair, roaches invading the corpse of your bedroom. You tossed all the faulty appliances through the smoke out your window, screaming that you couldn’t handle choking on one more thing that wouldn’t just fix himself.
  13. I whispered, “We will each weed through the last year and try to spot the moment we began breaking. We will repel sprint away from each other. Your voice will take months to drain out from my ears. You will throw away your notebook of tally marks from each time you wondered if I was worth the work. The invisible bruises will finally surface and I will still pretend that I didn’t know it was coming.”
  14. The entire time, I was only pretending that I knew it was coming.

— Miles Walser, “A Sonnet of Invented Memories” (via pigmenting)

Umberto Eco’s “How to recognize a porn movie” (From the 1995 book ‘How to Travel with a Salmon & Other Essays’)

I don’t know if you’ve ever happened to see a pornographic movie. I don’t mean movies with some erotic content, a movie like Last Tango in Paris, for example, though even that, I realize, for many people might be offensive. No, what I mean is genuine pornoflicks, whose true and sole aim is to stimulate the spectator’s desire, from beginning to end, and in such a way that, while this desire is stimulated by scenes of various and varied copulations, the rest of the story counts for less than nothing.

Magistrates are often required to decide whether a film is purely pornographic or whether it has artistic value. I am not one of those who insist that artistic value excuses everything; sometimes true works of art have been dangerous, to faith, to behavior, to current opinion, than works of lesser value. But I believe that consenting adults have the right to consume pornographic material, at least for want of anything better. I recognize, however, that on occasion a court must decide whether a film has been produced for the purpose of expressing certain concepts of esthetic ideals (even through scenes that offend the accepted moral view), or whether it was made for the sole purpose of arousing the spectator’s instincts.

Well, there is a criterion for deciding whether a film is pornographic or not, and it is based on the calculation of wasted time. A great, universal film masterpiece, Stagecoach, takes place solely and entirely (except for the beginning, a few brief intervals, and the finale) on a stagecoach. But without this journey the film would have no meaning. Antonioni’s L’ avventura is made up solely of wasted time: people come and go, talk, get lost and are found, without anything happening. This wasted time may or may not be enjoyable, but it is exactly what the film is about.

A pornographic movie, in contrast, to justify the price of the ticket or the purchase of the cassette, tells us that certain people couple sexually, men with women, men with men, women with women, women with dogs or stallions (I might point out that there are no pornographic films in which men couple with mares and bitches: why not?). And this would still be all right: but it is full of wasted time.

If Gilbert, in order to rape Gilbertina, has to go from Lincoln Center to Sheridan Square, the film shows you Gilbert, in his car, throughout the whole journey, stoplight by stoplight.

Pornographic movies are full of people who climb into cars and drive for miles and miles, couples who waste incredible amounts of time signing in at hotel desks, gentlemen who spend many minutes in elevators before reaching their rooms, girls who sip various drinks and who fiddle interminably with laces and blouses before confessing to each other that they prefer Sappho to Don Juan. To put it simply, crudely, in porn movies, before you can see a healthy screw you have to put up with a documentary that could be sponsored by the Traffic Bureau.

There are obvious reasons. A movie in which Gilbert did nothing but rape Gilbertina, front, back, and sideways, would be intolerable. Physically, for the actors, and economically, for the producer. And it would also be, psychologically, intolerable for the spectator: for the transgression to work, it must be played out against a background of normality. To depict normality is one of the most difficult things for any artist – whereas portraying deviation, crime, rape, torture, is very easy.

Therefore the pornographic movie must present normality – essential if the transgression is to have interest – in the way that every spectator conceives it. Therefore, if Gilbert has to take the bus and go from A to B, we will see Gilbert taking the bus and then the bus proceeding from A to B.

This often irritates the spectators, because they think they would like the unspeakable scenes to be continuous. But this is an illusion on their part. They couldn’t bear a full hour and a half of unspeakable scenes. So the passages of the wasted time are essential.

I repeat. Go into a movie theater. If, to go from A to B, the characters take longer than you would like, then the film you are seeing is pornographic.

to warn and object

I am so afraid of people’s words.
They describe so distinctly everything:
And this they call dog and that they call house,
here the start and there the end.

I worry about their mockery with words,
they know everything, what will be, what was;
no mountain is still miraculous;
and their house and yard lead right up to God.

I want to warn and object: Let the things be!
I enjoy listening to the sound they are making.
But you always touch: and they hush and stand still.
That’s how you kill.

In Celebration of Me (1909), by Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Annemarie S. Kidder.