Segunda-feira, 19 de Maio de 2008

Manoel de Oliveira recebeu a Palma de Ouro do Festival de Cannes pelo conjunto da sua obra




No ano em que celebra o seu 100.º aniversário, Manoel de Oliveira foi distinguido com a Palma de Ouro para a Carreira do Festival de Cannes, que lhe foi entregue por um dos seus actores favoritos: Michel Piccoli.


Após a exibição da sua curta-metragem, A Day in the Life of Manoel de Oliveira, Gilles Jacob leu uma carta pessoaç, agradecendo e elogiando o cineasta pela sua contribuição para a Sétima Arte:

"Dear Manoel,
There's a story about you I just love. Supposedly, you said, "I've been lying about my age. I'm not one hundred years old; I'm three years older than that." If it's true, I say, hats off to you; if it's not true, it's even more delightful. In any case, it augurs well for this portrait of the artist as a young man. The world's great directors cringe before the deluge of interpretations that the exegetes rain down upon their oeuvre You, my dear friend, will not contradict me, I'm sure. Having begun making films before the advent of sound, you know the sweet price of silence. And you are also, in a way, the last of the pioneers. Indeed, the œuvre of the great cineastes is marked by its openness: to the world, to space, to time, and to the person, as well, and therefore to tranquility... You structure each of your films in opposition to the preceding one, a little game that makes you the most playful of directors. You have no fear of placing yourself in danger and, yet, it never fails: like the high-jumper you once were, you sail over the obstacle, the bar doesn't fall, you succeed. A mystery of freshness and vitality, you amaze us; we are in awe of you, even. You are always unpredictable. Your films, swimming in magnificent light and splendid women, need no explanations. One of your titles sums them up perfectly: The Uncertainty Principle. Strange and sublime metamorphoses recur in your work;
changements à vue, as they say in theater, changes in plain sight. This change in plain sight is coming over your face now: your eyes are sparkling with enjoyment, vitality, and the youthfulness of your soul. The thing is, your legendary modesty shrinks from having people talk about either you or your work. Too bad, dear Manoel, let me say this, and for a second, I shall be a bit serious. Too bad if I vex you, you who are the quintessence of cinéma d'auteur, as all lovers of the style will agree. There are certain figures in the history of art, creators who, for a time, embody the soul of a people, are emblematic of an entire country. Such artists are a boon to their countrymen, a blessing for the land. From the 1950s to the 1970s, Italy suffered the fate of having fifteen geniuses in practice. Fine, but what then? In Spain, the opposite was true, and without going back to the great Cervantes in literature, the role was played by Buñuel, followed by Almodóvar. And that was fine. In Portugal, there was Pessoa, but then there is also you. Please excuse me. I'll cite one single example of the Oliveira Touch. It's in I'm Going Home, with the great Michel Piccoli. Remember, every morning, his character goes to the same Paris café, sits down at the same table, and orders a cup of coffee, which he drinks as he reads Le Figaro. Then he leaves. Almost as soon as he gets up, another customer comes in, rushes to the same table, and reads Libération. Another day, after Piccoli is gone, the Libération reader hurries in as usual, but the table is already taken by another regular, who is riveted to Le Monde. What is it about this enchanted table that attracts such a varied sample of the daily press? ...The only thing one can be certain of is that there's no explanation. That's just the way it is. But the very fact that we asked ourselves all these questions, and smiled, is a revelation of our whole universe, my dear Manoel, and, in this representation, of the entire history of humanity. As I remarked before, you've been making films for quite a while. For sheer taste, your work invents, foretells, and accompanies the panorama of the history of cinema. And it is on these highly symbolic grounds, but because you are you – that is to say, a righteous man – that we are now going to award you the Palme d’Or. Not in honor of your seniority – heaven forbid! – but for the esteem and especially the admiration you inspire. Admiration for you as a filmmaker and as a man. In this particular case, they can never be separated. Take good care of yourself!



publicado por annualia às 11:27
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