list http://www.spout.com/ Recent community activity around Querelle on Spout Copyright 2005-9 Spout, LLC Spout RSS http://www.spout.com/images/SpoutLogoRSS.jpg http://www.spout.com/ 136 30 http://www.spout.com/films/Querelle/27816/default.aspx Title: Querelle
Year: 1982
Director: Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Plot: A sailor learns to take, and give, it like a man in this surrealistic adaptation of writer and thief Jean Genet's novel Querelle de Brest by avant-garde German director Rainer Werner Fassbinder. In a colorful brothel in the port of Brest, proprietor Nono (Gunther Kaufmann) is known for wagering with his customers. Win a throw of the dice, and they get to make love with his wife, Lysiane (Jeanne Moreau); lose, and they must take it from behind by Nono himself. One day, Lysiane reads the tarot for her lover, Robert (Hanno Poschl), and learns in the cards of his intense passion for his brother, Querelle (Brad Davis). Querelle himself soon arrives, and the brothers enact a bizarre greeting halfway between a hug and a wrestling match. Querelle, it seems, is looking for partners in a drug deal; Robert points him in the right direction. An argument about the merits of sex between men soon leads Querelle to murder his fellow smuggler, Vic (Dieter Schidor). Back at the whorehouse, Querelle loses on purpose to Nono and finds he has a taste for passive gay sex. Meanwhile, fellow sailor Gil, who looks exactly like Querelle's brother (and is played by the same actor), murders one of his compatriots after the brute publicly impugns his manhood. Wanted by the police for both his own crime and Querelle's, Gil goes on the lam. Querelle soon crashes his hideout, and an intense bond develops between the two murderers -- a friendship that will lead Querelle to the greatest love, and the greatest treachery, of his life. Director Fassbinder was in the process of editing Querelle when he died of a drug overdose in June 1982. Gunther Kaufmann, who plays Nono, was Fassbinder's ex-lover; the film is dedicated to another former lover, El Hedi Ben Salem, the news of whose suicide had just reached the director. Critically derided even by many of Fassbinder's admirers, Querelle earned a Golden Raspberry award for Worst "Original" Song for "Each Man Kills the Thing He Loves," an Oscar Wilde poem set to music by Peer Raben and sung repeatedly by Jeanne Moreau. Moreau had previously starred in Mademoiselle, a Tony Richardson effort co-scripted by Genet. Look for Frank Ripploh, another pioneering German director, in a cameo. ~ Brian J. Dillard, All Movie Guide
Times Tagged: 2
Number of Lists: 2
Number of blog posts: 3
SpoutRating: 2
]]>Fri, 07 Nov 2008 19:01:06 GMTQuerelle1982Rainer Werner FassbinderA sailor learns to take, and give, it like a man in this surrealistic adaptation of writer and thief <a href="/players/P___198758/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Jean Genet</a>'s novel Querelle de Brest by avant-garde German director <a href="/players/P____89436/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Rainer Werner Fassbinder</a>. In a colorful brothel in the port of Brest, proprietor Nono (Gunther Kaufmann) is known for wagering with his customers. Win a throw of the dice, and they get to make love with his wife, Lysiane (<a href="/players/P___103455/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Jeanne Moreau</a>); lose, and they must take it from behind by Nono himself. One day, Lysiane reads the tarot for her lover, Robert (Hanno Poschl), and learns in the cards of his intense passion for his brother, Querelle (<a href="/players/P____17299/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Brad Davis</a>). Querelle himself soon arrives, and the brothers enact a bizarre greeting halfway between a hug and a wrestling match. Querelle, it seems, is looking for partners in a drug deal; Robert points him in the right direction. An argument about the merits of sex between men soon leads Querelle to murder his fellow smuggler, Vic (<a href="/players/P___110170/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Dieter Schidor</a>). Back at the whorehouse, Querelle loses on purpose to Nono and finds he has a taste for passive gay sex. Meanwhile, fellow sailor Gil, who looks exactly like Querelle's brother (and is played by the same actor), murders one of his compatriots after the brute publicly impugns his manhood. Wanted by the police for both his own crime and Querelle's, Gil goes on the lam. Querelle soon crashes his hideout, and an intense bond develops between the two murderers -- a friendship that will lead Querelle to the greatest love, and the greatest treachery, of his life. Director Fassbinder was in the process of editing Querelle when he died of a drug overdose in June 1982. Gunther Kaufmann, who plays Nono, was Fassbinder's ex-lover; the film is dedicated to another former lover, El Hedi Ben Salem, the news of whose suicide had just reached the director. Critically derided even by many of Fassbinder's admirers, Querelle earned a Golden Raspberry award for Worst "Original" Song for "Each Man Kills the Thing He Loves," an Oscar Wilde poem set to music by Peer Raben and sung repeatedly by <a href="/players/P___103455/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Jeanne Moreau</a>. Moreau had previously starred in <a href=/films/65389/default.aspx style='text-decoration:underline'>Mademoiselle</a>, a <a href="/players/P___108201/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Tony Richardson</a> effort co-scripted by Genet. Look for Frank Ripploh, another pioneering German director, in a cameo. ~ Brian J. Dillard, All Movie Guide2Slightly Tagged (1-5)232http://www.spout.com/ProductImages/t12088146f5.jpghttp://www.spout.com/films/Querelle/27816/default.aspxFilm http://www.spout.com/blogs/karina/archive/2008/11/7/37063.aspx Post By: Karina
Post To: Karina on SpoutBlog
Post Date: 11/7/2008 2:01:06 PM
Body: A number of our blogging friends have picked up the Alphabetical Favorites meme. The idea is that you list 26 favorite movies, one for each letter of the alphabet. Some people are adding comments, but I think it’s more interesting to just toss the titles out there, to see how they fit together within a single list and how they match up to other lists. Also, it’s been a hell of a week and I’m exhausted. I will say this: after not being able to think of a single movie beginning with the letter “J” that I enjoy more than Joe Versus the Volcano, I noticed that several commenters at the House Next Door had slotted the same film in the same face. So much for Todd McCarthy’s contention in his Doubt review that John Patrick Shanley’s first directorial effort was “misguided.” So! My list is after the jump. Ali: Fear Eats The Soul Barry Lyndon Charade Deconstructing Harry Eyes Wide Shut Forty Second Street Ghostbusters Happy Together I Walked With a Zombie Joe vs. the Volcano Killers, The (1946) Long Goodbye, The Morocco North By Northwest On The Town Purple Rain Querelle Rules of the Game, The Star is Born, A (1954) They All Laughed Une Femme est une Femme Vivre Sa Vie When A Woman Ascends the Stairs Xanadu Yolanda and the Thief Zabriskie Point Originally posted on:SpoutBlog » Karina Longworth
]]>Fri, 07 Nov 2008 19:01:06 GMTKarinaKarina on SpoutBlog11/7/2008 2:01:06 PMA number of our blogging friends have picked up the Alphabetical Favorites meme. The idea is that you list 26 favorite movies, one for each letter of the alphabet. Some people are adding comments, but I think it’s more interesting to just toss the titles out there, to see how they fit together within a single list and how they match up to other lists. Also, it’s been a hell of a week and I’m exhausted. I will say this: after not being able to think of a single movie beginning with the letter “J” that I enjoy more than Joe Versus the Volcano, I noticed that several commenters at the House Next Door had slotted the same film in the same face. So much for Todd McCarthy’s contention in his Doubt review that John Patrick Shanley’s first directorial effort was “misguided.” So! My list is after the jump. Ali: Fear Eats The Soul Barry Lyndon Charade Deconstructing Harry Eyes Wide Shut Forty Second Street Ghostbusters Happy Together I Walked With a Zombie Joe vs. the Volcano Killers, The (1946) Long Goodbye, The Morocco North By Northwest On The Town Purple Rain Querelle Rules of the Game, The Star is Born, A (1954) They All Laughed Une Femme est une Femme Vivre Sa Vie When A Woman Ascends the Stairs Xanadu Yolanda and the Thief Zabriskie Point Originally posted on:SpoutBlog » Karina Longworth http://www.spout.com/blogs/spoutblog/archive/2008/11/7/37062.aspx Post By: SpoutBlog
Post To: SpoutBlog on spout.com
Post Date: 11/7/2008 2:00:55 PM
Body: A number of our blogging friends have picked up the Alphabetical Favorites meme. The idea is that you list 26 favorite movies, one for each letter of the alphabet. Some people are adding comments, but I think it’s more interesting to just toss the titles out there, to see how they fit together within a single list and how they match up to other lists. Also, it’s been a hell of a week and I’m exhausted. I will say this: after not being able to think of a single movie beginning with the letter “J” that I enjoy more than Joe Versus the Volcano, I noticed that several commenters at the House Next Door had slotted the same film in the same face. So much for Todd McCarthy’s contention in his Doubt review that John Patrick Shanley’s first directorial effort was “misguided.” So! My list is after the jump. Ali: Fear Eats The Soul Barry Lyndon Charade Deconstructing Harry Eyes Wide Shut Forty Second Street Ghostbusters Happy Together I Walked With a Zombie Joe vs. the Volcano Killers, The (1946) Long Goodbye, The Morocco North By Northwest On The Town Purple Rain Querelle Rules of the Game, The Star is Born, A (1954) They All Laughed Une Femme est une Femme Vivre Sa Vie When A Woman Ascends the Stairs Xanadu Yolanda and the Thief Zabriskie Point Originally posted on:SpoutBlog
]]>Fri, 07 Nov 2008 19:00:55 GMTSpoutBlogSpoutBlog on spout.com11/7/2008 2:00:55 PMA number of our blogging friends have picked up the Alphabetical Favorites meme. The idea is that you list 26 favorite movies, one for each letter of the alphabet. Some people are adding comments, but I think it’s more interesting to just toss the titles out there, to see how they fit together within a single list and how they match up to other lists. Also, it’s been a hell of a week and I’m exhausted. I will say this: after not being able to think of a single movie beginning with the letter “J” that I enjoy more than Joe Versus the Volcano, I noticed that several commenters at the House Next Door had slotted the same film in the same face. So much for Todd McCarthy’s contention in his Doubt review that John Patrick Shanley’s first directorial effort was “misguided.” So! My list is after the jump. Ali: Fear Eats The Soul Barry Lyndon Charade Deconstructing Harry Eyes Wide Shut Forty Second Street Ghostbusters Happy Together I Walked With a Zombie Joe vs. the Volcano Killers, The (1946) Long Goodbye, The Morocco North By Northwest On The Town Purple Rain Querelle Rules of the Game, The Star is Born, A (1954) They All Laughed Une Femme est une Femme Vivre Sa Vie When A Woman Ascends the Stairs Xanadu Yolanda and the Thief Zabriskie Point Originally posted on:SpoutBlog http://www.spout.com/blogs/jlgdrd/archive/2007/6/26/12208.aspx Post By: jlgdrd
Post To: Wicked Fun
Post Date: 6/26/2007 2:42:00 AM
Body: A Thousand Clouds of Peace is an ode to loss and yearning, an extended fever-dream or hallucination that we share with Gerardo (Juan Carlos Ortuño) as he carries Bruno's letter in his pocket, haunted by the words he used to explain why he can no longer see him. Sometimes he appears to be looking for Bruno (Juan Carlos Torres), for others he meanders and malingers, making contact with friends, clients, and strangers. There is something intuitive and almost preverbal about the way he connects, as if he knows them intimately and not at all, as if they can read each other's minds. It's a familiarity of attraction and repulsion that reminds you of Bergman. Like when you mingle drunk at a party where social conventions have been dropped and there's a kind of jovial, empty intimacy. It doesn't seem adequate or appropriate to describe Gerardo as a prostitute. He accepts money from the men he engages only grudgingly, as if looking for something else. His urgency is not the kind plied by hustlers who hang out in alleys, abandoned playing fields, and other deserted parts of the city. Most likely he's trying to rekindle the one-time tryst, an affair that was cut short. It may be that Gerardo wanders in search of a lost lover, and while this may be dangerously close to a cliché, A Thousand Clouds of Peace makes it infinitely plausible. In no way does Gerardo seem mercenary or depraved, his compulsive behavior driven by hunger of memory and longing for the lost bliss of intense, exquisite, mythic, sexual love.We are forever noting the distance between Gerardo and other men, the guarded steps they take before touching, whether affectionate or commercial. We see how men can pass from obfuscation in one another's eyes to clarity. Gerardo approaches women protectively, affably, but without the desire that informs his conquests. A Thousand Clouds of Peace is set in Mexico where we grasp in almost ballet-like body language and movement how queer identity and electricity fit into machismo culture. We see how much information can be transmitted without dialogue. Gerardo acts but doesn't seem audacious or daring; he is who he is. His abuse at the hands of an ambivalent john is almost treated as an occupational hazard, until we witness the effect. His mother is horrified, "You look like a wandering ghost," she remarks, and sure enough, he does. Along with cinematographer Diego Arizmendi, director Julian Hernandez has crafted a subtle, remarkable liquid visual poem of a film. Shot in black and white and rivaling the visual style of Orson Welle's Touch of Evil, Peter Bogdanovich's The Last Picture Show or Francis Ford Coppola's Rumble Fish, it is crisp and sharp, yet surreal. The lack of color softens the tawdry, squalid streets, the bedrooms, crumbling walls, stairwells, and dilapidated apartments where Gerardo struggles and agonizes through his recollection and loss of flawless ecstasy with Bruno. Arizmendi brings out the raw beauty, visual texture that might normally evade our radar - rocks and dust and steel and posters torn from the sides of buildings. The actors in A Thousand Clouds of Peace are not attractive in the conventional sense, but they are fetching. They might have jug ears or wide mouths or rubbery jowls. But their appeal, their unrefined tragic handsomeness gradually, ineffably soaks in.Understated eroticism suffuses the film. Though beaten down by desolation and anguish, it's there in the gleam and shadow of Gerardo's recollection. The bodies sometimes glow like the Dada photos of Man Ray in the 20s. When Gerardo rolls his undershirt and drops his jeans and BVDs to masturbate, it's such a quiet, startling, reverent moment. Plain and accessible, powerful without the customary rashness or dirt. We shudder because Hernandez doesn't turn us into voyeurs. It's as if we're participating, sharing in a sacrament. In flashback, Bruno steps behind Gerardo to caress his torso and we only see his arms. It's as if Gerardo's exploring himself. Identities blur as they engage in mutual cherishing and epiphany. We want these scenes to last longer, but I think Hernandez was smart to pull back, to buzz our nerves with this symphony of torture and tantalization. A Thousand Clouds of Peace compares favorably with Rainer Werner Fassbinder's Querelle and Joaão Pedro Rodrigues' O Fantasma. It has a semiotic confidence and sophistication unlike anything I've seen in a long time. It's strong but doesn't call attention to its shots, many of which are ravishing and eerie. The dialogue, internal, explicative, is mostly scaffolding for the camera, which does 90 percent of the work. It's not extravagant, like Querelle, or explicit, like O Fantasma. But Hernandez's skill at expressing coarse male idolatry, the empathy we feel for Gerardo's ache and disconsolation is a triumph of intuition and manifestation. It's what the best movie making is all about.
]]>Tue, 26 Jun 2007 06:42:00 GMTjlgdrdWicked Fun6/26/2007 2:42:00 AM A Thousand Clouds of Peace is an ode to loss and yearning, an extended fever-dream or hallucination that we share with Gerardo (Juan Carlos Ortu&ntilde;o) as he carries Bruno&#39;s letter in his pocket, haunted by the words he used to explain why he can no longer see him. Sometimes he appears to be looking for Bruno (Juan Carlos Torres), for others he meanders and malingers, making contact with friends, clients, and strangers. There is something intuitive and almost preverbal about the way he connects, as if he knows them intimately and not at all, as if they can read each other&#39;s minds. It&#39;s a familiarity of attraction and repulsion that reminds you of Bergman. Like when you mingle drunk at a party where social conventions have been dropped and there&#39;s a kind of jovial, empty intimacy. It doesn&#39;t seem adequate or appropriate to describe Gerardo as a prostitute. He accepts money from the men he engages only grudgingly, as if looking for something else. His urgency is not the kind plied by hustlers who hang out in alleys, abandoned playing fields, and other deserted parts of the city. Most likely he&#39;s trying to rekindle the one-time tryst, an affair that was cut short. It may be that Gerardo wanders in search of a lost lover, and while this may be dangerously close to a clich&eacute;, A Thousand Clouds of Peace makes it infinitely plausible. In no way does Gerardo seem mercenary or depraved, his compulsive behavior driven by hunger of memory and longing for the lost bliss of intense, exquisite, mythic, sexual love.We are forever noting the distance between Gerardo and other men, the guarded steps they take before touching, whether affectionate or commercial. We see how men can pass from obfuscation in one another&#39;s eyes to clarity. Gerardo approaches women protectively, affably, but without the desire that informs his conquests. A Thousand Clouds of Peace is set in Mexico where we grasp in almost ballet-like body language and movement how queer identity and electricity fit into machismo culture. We see how much information can be transmitted without dialogue. Gerardo acts but doesn&#39;t seem audacious or daring; he is who he is. His abuse at the hands of an ambivalent john is almost treated as an occupational hazard, until we witness the effect. His mother is horrified, "You look like a wandering ghost," she remarks, and sure enough, he does. Along with cinematographer Diego Arizmendi, director Julian Hernandez has crafted a subtle, remarkable liquid visual poem of a film. Shot in black and white and rivaling the visual style of Orson Welle&#39;s Touch of Evil, Peter Bogdanovich&#39;s The Last Picture Show or Francis Ford Coppola&#39;s Rumble Fish, it is crisp and sharp, yet surreal. The lack of color softens the tawdry, squalid streets, the bedrooms, crumbling walls, stairwells, and dilapidated apartments where Gerardo struggles and agonizes through his recollection and loss of flawless ecstasy with Bruno. Arizmendi brings out the raw beauty, visual texture that might normally evade our radar - rocks and dust and steel and posters torn from the sides of buildings. The actors in A Thousand Clouds of Peace are not attractive in the conventional sense, but they are fetching. They might have jug ears or wide mouths or rubbery jowls. But their appeal, their unrefined tragic handsomeness gradually, ineffably soaks in.Understated eroticism suffuses the film. Though beaten down by desolation and anguish, it&#39;s there in the gleam and shadow of Gerardo&#39;s recollection. The bodies sometimes glow like the Dada photos of Man Ray in the 20s. When Gerardo rolls his undershirt and drops his jeans and BVDs to masturbate, it&#39;s such a quiet, startling, reverent moment. Plain and accessible, powerful without the customary rashness or dirt. We shudder because Hernandez doesn&#39;t turn us into voyeurs. It&#39;s as if we&#39;re participating, sharing in a sacrament. In flashback, Bruno steps behind Gerardo to caress his torso and we only see his arms. It&#39;s as if Gerardo&#39;s exploring himself. Identities blur as they engage in mutual cherishing and epiphany. We want these scenes to last longer, but I think Hernandez was smart to pull back, to buzz our nerves with this symphony of torture and tantalization. A Thousand Clouds of Peace compares favorably with Rainer Werner Fassbinder&#39;s Querelle and Joa&atilde;o Pedro Rodrigues&#39; O Fantasma. It has a semiotic confidence and sophistication unlike anything I&#39;ve seen in a long time. It&#39;s strong but doesn&#39;t call attention to its shots, many of which are ravishing and eerie. The dialogue, internal, explicative, is mostly scaffolding for the camera, which does 90 percent of the work. It&#39;s not extravagant, like Querelle, or explicit, like O Fantasma. But Hernandez&#39;s skill at expressing coarse male idolatry, the empathy we feel for Gerardo&#39;s ache and disconsolation is a triumph of intuition and manifestation. It&#39;s what the best movie making is all about. http://www.spout.com/members/0/tags/love/MemberTagFilms.aspxlove
Number of films tagged: 12478

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]]>Wed, 09 Dec 2009 05:08:37 GMT124783361477Tag http://www.spout.com/members/0/tags/murder/MemberTagFilms.aspxmurder
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]]>Fri, 26 Jun 2009 13:02:48 GMT5551124Tag http://www.spout.com/members/0/tags/sailor/MemberTagFilms.aspxsailor
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