sexta-feira, janeiro 30, 2009
A RTP1 tem hoje uma sessão dupla, como a mana mais nova costuma ter aos sábados. São dois filmes americanos, um de 2002 - Far from heaven (Longe do paraíso, Todd Haynes), de um cineasta "moderno", não em qualquer sentido estilístico mas por que é relativamente novo na idade e no métier, é homosexual e, sobretudo, faz gala em não nos poupar nenhum pormenor sórdido: é quase ao bater da meia-noite (23.55). A seguir, lá para as duas da manhã, um clássico, desculpem a expressão, do cinema "negro": The big sleep (À beira do abismo, 1946), adaptação do romance do mesmo nome do grande Raymond Chandler, realizado por Howard Hawks, com Lauren Bacall e Humphrey Bogart e, convém não esquecer, Dorothy Malone (para quem não saiba e queira reparar, é a empregada da loja de livros pornográficos). Um é sobre uma família "normal" - e só para maiores de 18 ou mais anos; o outro é sobre o mundo do crime, pornografia, droga, vício, degeneração - e pode ser visto e disfrutado sem perigo por qualquer criança inteligente. William Faulkner trabalhou no argumento de The Big Sleep (não muito, segundo parece). Conta-se que durante a rodagem houve uma dúvida qualquer sobre o que é que realmente acontecia a um dos personagens e resolveram perguntar ao autor do livro - e Chandler mandou dizer que sabia tanto como eles. "No idea", terá telegrafado RC. É uma história famosa.
JOHN UPDIKE (1932-2009)
Updike Remembered by Gish Jen
"John Updike chose me as his successor. I never got to ask him why."
"A fervent relation with the world"--I have always loved it that John Updike once identified this as his critical touchstone--"with its old-fashioned savor of reverence and Creation and the truth that shall make you free." So much of Updike is there--the outward orientation, the native religiosity, the bemused observation of that native religiosity (gently mocked but not repudiated). Is he right, though, in his use of this as a touchstone? I don't know, but I will confess that I have worried this question more than once as a result of a strange occurrence: In 1999, when a British publication, The Times Magazine, decided to do a millennial special on 20th century figures "preeminent in their fields" and their chosen successors, Updike, for reasons I have never understood--please don't laugh--chose me.
It was an out-of-body experience. I met up with him on a late fall day in Harvard Yard, by the statue of John Harvard. He recognized me and I, less surprisingly, him, though his first words--"You must be Gish"--emanated, to my astonishment, from a face half-powdered from a sugar donut he was in the process of scarfing down. He was even rangier than I expected and, well, bigger of nose, but far easier to talk to, also: full of reminiscences about his years at Harvard and open about what he was working on, which was Melville's later years--the long silence before "Billy Budd"-- and "what went wrong." I remember wondering as he told me that whether he felt something had gone wrong for him, too, but no--no one, at least on the surface, could have seemed less late-Melvillean than Updike. We sat for our portrait on a couch in the Faculty Club--the idea being that the difference in our heights might prove less striking if we were seated, though even with our difference halved, we presented a challenge for our sandal-shod French photographer. She took what seemed to be miles of film, as a fine result of which I look, in the final shot, distinctly sick of sitting up straight; an ever-game Updike, meanwhile, genially tilts my way. He was gracious and charmingly observant through it all--commenting, for example, on how the photographer's finger must tire, after a while, from all that trigger-pressing. Then suddenly, we were done and saying goodbye without my ever asking him the one question that had, of course, knocked maniacally on my consciousness the whole time: Why me?
I did see him several times after that. Once, he commented on how little space our picture was allotted in the issue (we were about the size of a largish refrigerator magnet); Twiggy and Kate Moss, can you imagine, were given much more. On other occasions, we have chatted about all sorts of things, but never about why he singled me out; nor why, since 1999, he has supported me with a generosity that has seemed more like something out of Dickens than out of real life. I am sick to realize that I will never have a chance to thank him properly now.
All I can do is pay, here, my heartfelt homage to him, a great writer--protean, as many have noted, and spectacularly, tentacularly gifted--a prolific, old-fashioned man of letters, yes, but finally, I think, a writer without whom the necklace of 20th century American literature could not be judged complete. Crack chronicler of America that he was, he reminded us of the role literature has always played in our national self-fashioning even as he showed us that that role could be played aesthetically: with gorgeous writing and a cool intimacy that in his best work keeps the reader on the cusp of moral judgment. His ideas about writing have shaped a generation of writers. No one has been untouched by his advocacy of the "accumulation of detail" as one of the chief means by which fiction accrues its power, and many are still mulling over his desire to "give the mundane its beautiful due" and his admiration for the "groping" quality of his beloved Henry Green's work.
I salute him, too, as a genuinely kind and generous human being. My editor, Ann Close, recently told me that for most of his career, Updike refused to take an advance from Knopf. He did everything in his power to help the house, and literary organizers of every stripe will attest to the time and effort he has poured into supporting literary culture. His death is All Wrong; no one would accept this in a novel; everything about it says, Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite! That end must be redone! But all has been put to bed; it is, in fact, in galleys. As for the reviews, the just ones say he was a rarity--a great writer and a great man. "
It was an out-of-body experience. I met up with him on a late fall day in Harvard Yard, by the statue of John Harvard. He recognized me and I, less surprisingly, him, though his first words--"You must be Gish"--emanated, to my astonishment, from a face half-powdered from a sugar donut he was in the process of scarfing down. He was even rangier than I expected and, well, bigger of nose, but far easier to talk to, also: full of reminiscences about his years at Harvard and open about what he was working on, which was Melville's later years--the long silence before "Billy Budd"-- and "what went wrong." I remember wondering as he told me that whether he felt something had gone wrong for him, too, but no--no one, at least on the surface, could have seemed less late-Melvillean than Updike. We sat for our portrait on a couch in the Faculty Club--the idea being that the difference in our heights might prove less striking if we were seated, though even with our difference halved, we presented a challenge for our sandal-shod French photographer. She took what seemed to be miles of film, as a fine result of which I look, in the final shot, distinctly sick of sitting up straight; an ever-game Updike, meanwhile, genially tilts my way. He was gracious and charmingly observant through it all--commenting, for example, on how the photographer's finger must tire, after a while, from all that trigger-pressing. Then suddenly, we were done and saying goodbye without my ever asking him the one question that had, of course, knocked maniacally on my consciousness the whole time: Why me?
I did see him several times after that. Once, he commented on how little space our picture was allotted in the issue (we were about the size of a largish refrigerator magnet); Twiggy and Kate Moss, can you imagine, were given much more. On other occasions, we have chatted about all sorts of things, but never about why he singled me out; nor why, since 1999, he has supported me with a generosity that has seemed more like something out of Dickens than out of real life. I am sick to realize that I will never have a chance to thank him properly now.
All I can do is pay, here, my heartfelt homage to him, a great writer--protean, as many have noted, and spectacularly, tentacularly gifted--a prolific, old-fashioned man of letters, yes, but finally, I think, a writer without whom the necklace of 20th century American literature could not be judged complete. Crack chronicler of America that he was, he reminded us of the role literature has always played in our national self-fashioning even as he showed us that that role could be played aesthetically: with gorgeous writing and a cool intimacy that in his best work keeps the reader on the cusp of moral judgment. His ideas about writing have shaped a generation of writers. No one has been untouched by his advocacy of the "accumulation of detail" as one of the chief means by which fiction accrues its power, and many are still mulling over his desire to "give the mundane its beautiful due" and his admiration for the "groping" quality of his beloved Henry Green's work.
I salute him, too, as a genuinely kind and generous human being. My editor, Ann Close, recently told me that for most of his career, Updike refused to take an advance from Knopf. He did everything in his power to help the house, and literary organizers of every stripe will attest to the time and effort he has poured into supporting literary culture. His death is All Wrong; no one would accept this in a novel; everything about it says, Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite! That end must be redone! But all has been put to bed; it is, in fact, in galleys. As for the reviews, the just ones say he was a rarity--a great writer and a great man. "
Gish Gen,TNR, 30-01-09
Gish Jen is the author of the novels Typical American, Mona in the Promised Land, The Love Wife, and Who's Irish?, a book of stories.
quarta-feira, janeiro 28, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - O CAMPIÃO
The Champ (1979) passa esta noite no TCM, às 22.10. É um melodrama lacrimejante que se distingue a vários títulos: é provavelmente o pior filme de Franco Zeffirelli (que dirigiu, por exemplo, com surpreendentes bons resultados, um Hamlet - 1990 - interpretado por Mel Gibson, muito bem acompanhado por Glenn Close, Paul Scofield, Alan Bates e a enjoativa Helen Bonham Carter, para quem Ofélia é um papel mesmo a calhar); é forte candidato à nomeação como um dos piores filmes de sempre; é a pior interpretação da vida de Jon Voight; é o filme em que Faye Dunaway está mais feia, etc., etc. Antes, às 20.00, no TCM também, Fama (Fame, 1980), um musical sui generis cinematizado com verve por Alan Parker e que, para não nos alongarmos, se "vê com muito agrado". Alan Parker pertence a um grupo de publicitários e realizadores de televisão exportados por Inglaterra para Hollywood nos anos 80 e que não se saíram em geral nada mal: Parker dirigiu também, por exemplo, Shoot the moon (com Albert Finney e Diane Keaton, 1982) ou o famoso Expresso da meia-noite (Midnight express, 1978). (Outro do mesmo "grupo" de expatriados foi Ridley Scott, de Alien, Blade Runner, Someone to watch over me e outros filmes de que gosto e outros de que não gosto tanto, como Gladiator; ultimamente, um dos filmes dele de que gostei mais foi Matchstick Men, 2002, mas há mais - incluindo a sua magnífica estreia cinematográfica em Inglaterra, The Duellists, 1977). Tanto Parker como Scott já são Sir Alan e Sir Ridley.
segunda-feira, janeiro 26, 2009
sábado, janeiro 24, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - SÁBADO À NOITE
A sessão dupla do costume na RTP2 hoje é temática: dois filmes de ficção científica dos anos 60-70, um americano, já bastante nosso conhecido, À beira do fim (Soylent Green, Richard Fleischer, 1973), merecidamente afamado, e outro completamente desconhecido - de mim, pelo menos - e provavelmente infame, Il Pianeta errante (conhecido por meia dúzia de nomes, em inglês e italiano, Guerra dos planetas, 1966) do tarefeiro Antonio Margheriti (a.k.a. Anthony M. Dawson), com actores e outros intervenientes disfarçados com nomes em inglês, género Jesús Franco - Jess Frank nalgumas co-produções - ou, entre nós, os romances policiais de Roussado Pinto assinados Ross Pyn ou os livros de Dick Haskins, para não falar de gente mais importante como Dinis Machado e o seu alter ego Denis McShade ou, ainda mais alto na escala e na ilustre França, Boris Vian e o Vernon Sullivan de J'irais cracher sur vos tombes ou Il faut tuer tous les affreux. Na TVI está anunciado para as 00.15 O resgate dos "soldados fantasmas" (The Great Raid, 2005): é um filme de guerra de John Dahl, um realizador que nos anos 90 foi uma esperança do chamado neo-neo-noir - uma esperança cujo fundamento se pode comprovar esta mesma noite, por um desses curiosos acasos da programação, no canal Hollywood à 1.45 - hora a que passa Delito em Red Rock West (Red Rock West, 1992); a série de filmes "negros" de Dahl inclui também Kill Me Again (1989) e The Last Seduction (com Linda Fiorentino, uma fugaz mas intrigante e interessante femme fatale desses anos, 1994).
quinta-feira, janeiro 22, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - OUTROS TEMPOS
Com Les visiteurs (1993) o argumentista e realizador francês Jean Marie Poiré fez, ao que parece - é o que dizem, nunca vi - uma comédia cinematográfica escrita para cinema, inteligente e com graça - cuja ideia de base, uns personagens medievais transportados para os tempos modernos, foi também usada por Poul Anderson num divertido romance de "ficção científica", traduzido para português com o título de A grande cruzada, um dos meus favoritos dos tempos em que li muita dessa literatura, ao lado de Um cântico para Leibowitz,de Walter J. Miller, Jr., I am legend, de Richard Matheson, e mais dois ou três, de vários autores, livros nem sempre muito típicos do género mas típicos dos entusiasmos desses tempos, que me ficaram mais permanentemente na memória. Esse filme de Poiré foi um grande êxito de público e em 1998 teve uma primeira sequel, Les visiteurs 2, aka Les couloirs du temps, e em 2001 uma terceira parte: Os visitantes na América (Just visiting, ou Les visiteurs en Amérique, que passa hoje no Hollywwod às 21.30, uma oportunidade para ver se é sempre ou não verdade que nunca terceiras partes foram boas. No TCM, um bom programa duplo: às 20.00, mais uma vez Point Blank (À queima-roupa, 1967, John Boorman, Angie Dickinson, Lee Marvin, etc., já muito falado noutras ocasiões) e, hoje chego a horas, às 21.30, o Revolta na Bounty de cuja passagem ontem dei conta tarde demais. No mesmo horário matutino em que nos deu ontem O vale do arco-íris, a RTP1 passa hoje A ilha do Tesouro, de Victor Fleming (Treasure Island, 1934), com Wallace Beery no papel de Long John Silver. (A propósito, o romance de Robert Louis Stevenson, amaldiçoado com o labéu de clássico da literatura juvenil, está disponível para download como e-book gratuito no Projecto Gutenberg.)
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - PELA NOITE DENTRO
Às duas da madrugada (noite de hoje, amanhã de manhã?) a RTP1 passa uma curiosidade: O vale do arco-íris (Finian's Rainbow, 1968) uma comédia musical adaptada ao cinema por Francis Ford Coppola (pré o primeiro O Padrinho, 1972, pré The Conversation, 1974, e ainda mais pré Apocalypse Now,1979). Foi uma das últimas aparições de Fred Astaire num filme de cinema e última comédia musical cinematográfica que protagonizou. Contracena com ele Petula Clark, imaginem. Francis Coppola ainda não chegara à conclusão - temporária - de que pessoas com três nomes não inspiram confiança e queria passar a ser tratado por Francis Coppola (como disse num famoso "memorandum" escrito e distribuido durante a produção de Apocalypse Now e a revista Esquire publicou na época).
quarta-feira, janeiro 21, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - SEMPRE TARDE!
Charles Laughton e Clark Gable são os protagonistas da versão de 1935 de Revolta na Bounty (Mutiny on the Bounty, Frank Lloyd) que o TCM está a apresentar desde as 20.00 (ou já acabou?). O historiador australiano Keith Windschuttle inclui um ensaio sobre este motim no seu livro The Killing of History. Lembra-nos os vários filmes dedicados por Hollywwood a esta história verdadeira - e historia outros motins e revoltas da época na Marinha britânica muito mais relevantes ou violentos. Ainda a tempo, aviso que no Hollywood, às 23.10, é exibido o The Untouchables (1987). Um brilhante exercício de Brian de Palma que também tem como base uma história verdadeira, essa inúmeras vezes contada pelo cinema americano e, até, por uma série de televisão, no tempo do preto e branco, que foi um grande êxito de audiência nos princípios dos anos 60 e vimos na RTP nesses tempos que já lá vão. Robert Stack era Eliot Ness (o personagem que neste filme cabe a Kevin Kostner). Al Capone aparecia pouco e foi interpretado por Neville Brand. No filme de de Palma Capone é Robert de Niro.
terça-feira, janeiro 20, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - TRIVIAL PURSUIT
Deve estar a correr na RTP Memória (começava às 22.00) o penúltimo filme em que Spencer Tracy e Katharine Hepburn estiveram juntos (foram uma dezena): A mulher que sabe tudo (Desk Set, Walter Lang, 1957) - o último foi, dez anos depois, Adivinha quem vem jantar?, no ano em que S. Tracy morreu. É talvez menos sabido ou lembrado que Desk Set tem argumento do casal Phoebe e Henry Ephron, pais da cineasta Nora Ephron (Sleepless in Seattle, You've Got Mail and all that).
segunda-feira, janeiro 19, 2009
O AMOR EM STENDAHL
Dois verbetes de Faites l'amour avec Stendahl, um "dicionário" do amor na obra e na vida do grande escritor francês (a tradução das citações é minha):
Désir - En Europe, le désir est enflammé par la contrainte, en Amérique il s'émousse par la libérté.
(Desejo: Na Europa o desejo é inflamado pelo constrangimento, na América embotado pela liberdade.)
Sale - Un jour les huit ou dix nièces de Mme. de Montcertin lui demandèrent ce que c'était que le amour; elle répondit:
'C'est une vilaine chose sale dont on accuse quelquefois les femmes de chambre, et, quand elles en sont convaincues, on les chasses'.
(Porcaria - Um dia as oito ou dez sobrinhas de Madame de Montcertin perguntaram-lhe o que é que era o amor; respondeu:
'É uma feíssima porcaria de que às vezes são acusadas as criadas de quarto e, quando reconhecidas culpadas, são despedidas'.)
Désir - En Europe, le désir est enflammé par la contrainte, en Amérique il s'émousse par la libérté.
(Desejo: Na Europa o desejo é inflamado pelo constrangimento, na América embotado pela liberdade.)
Sale - Un jour les huit ou dix nièces de Mme. de Montcertin lui demandèrent ce que c'était que le amour; elle répondit:
'C'est une vilaine chose sale dont on accuse quelquefois les femmes de chambre, et, quand elles en sont convaincues, on les chasses'.
(Porcaria - Um dia as oito ou dez sobrinhas de Madame de Montcertin perguntaram-lhe o que é que era o amor; respondeu:
'É uma feíssima porcaria de que às vezes são acusadas as criadas de quarto e, quando reconhecidas culpadas, são despedidas'.)
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - AUSTRALIA
Nem de propósito (vide post "Australia"): o canal Hollywood anuncia para hoje Crocodilo Dundee (Crocodile Dundee, Peter Faiman e Paul Hogan, 1986). Antes, um festival John Malkovich, em Na linha de fogo (In the line of fire, Wolfgang Petersen, 1993), um thriller bem feito, que se alonga de mais na última parte mas tem uma bela interpretação de Clint Eastwood e René Russo ainda no seu melhor. É às 21.30, no mesmo canal. Na RTP Memória, às 22.00 horas, O escudo negro (The Black Shield of Falworth, 1954) vem lembrar-nos todos os outros filmes "históricos" dos anos 50. Para cada filme mauzote, como este, houve pelo menos um ou dois que vale a pena recordar e rever, como O Príncipe Valente (uma das mais felizes adaptações ao cinema de uma banda desenhada, 1954) ou Scaramouche ou até Ivanhoe ou O facho e a flecha... O escudo negro foi dirigido por Rudolph Maté, um grande director de fotografia (desde os anos 20 na Alemanha até, em Hollywood, Correspondente de Guerra - de Hitchcock, A dama de Shangai - de Orson Welles -ou Gilda, para dar só dois ou três exemplos entre muitos) e depois de passar à realização nem sempre foi para desprezar (tem vários westerns dignos de menção e realizou a primeira versão do filme "noir" D.O.A., (acróstico de Dead On Arrival) (1950), que teve uma segunda vida em 1988, com Dennis Quaid, um filme, de resto, que sempre que calha me diverte rever.
domingo, janeiro 18, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - NOUTRA CIDADE
Manhattan Murder Mistery (O misterioso assassínio em Manhattan, 1993), de Woody Allen, passa no Hollywood, às 23.35: não é do melhor mas está muito longe de ser do pior que ele fez (Woody Allen protagoniza, acompanhado, mais uma vez, por Diane Keaton e tem pelo menos uma daquelas réplicas de antologia - "Estás proibida de sair daqui e se passas essa porta - ficas avisada - nunca mais te proibo nada!" Às 21.30, no AXN, podem ver-se os primeiros vinte ou vinte e cinco minutos de Galdiador (Gladiator, 2000) - ou mais, para quem quiser certificar-se de que nunca os efeitos especiais digitais podem substituir os dez mil figurantes! e grandiosos cenários! em tamanho natural de antigamente. Mas a o filme da noite é Duas semanas noutra cidade (Two weeks in another town, 1962), às 20.00 no TCM. This film is either praised as a masterpiece or despised as an obvious sign of Minnelli's decadence, diz a wikipedia - e não é mau resumo da fortuna crítica do filme, a segunda vez que Vincente Minnelli aborda o mundo do cinema (a primeira foi The Bad and the Beautiful, 1952). Kirk Douglas é outra vez o protagonista e o elenco inclui Cyd Charisse e Edward G. Robinson. Hollywood já não é o que era em 1952 e o filme passa-se em Roma, onde se filmavam por esses dias histórias da antiga Roma e estava em vias de nascer o western spaghetti. É um melodrama flamejante baseado num livro de Irvin Shaw - fotografado por Milton Krasner. O argumento é do mesmo argumentista de The Bad and the Beautiful: Charles Schnee (argumentista de Red River, o western clássico de Howard Hawks, e de outro western mítico, The Furies, de Anthony Mann, ambos de 1948, e também de They Live by Night, 1950, de Nicholas Ray - ainda gostava de falar aqui mais extensamente dos argumentistas).
sábado, janeiro 17, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - DAVID LYNCH DO PRÍNCÍPIO AO FIM
Esta noite na RTP2, às 22.45 e à 1.45, pela ordem inversa: o primeiro e o último em data dos filmes de David Lynch, um rapaz da minha idade, Eraserhead (1977) e O Império do Interior (Inland Empire, 2006). Medeiam quase trinta anos entre os dois. As coisas que já vimos...
AUSTRÁLIA
Não conheço o país. O filme excedeu todas as minhas expectativas: é muito pior. Mais vale rever o Crocodile Dundee.
domingo, janeiro 11, 2009
sábado, janeiro 10, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - EM PORTUGUÊS
A sessão dupla desta noite na RTP2 é toda em português: primeiro o filme do antigo director do Público Vicente Jorge Silva, Porto Santo (1997) - 22.45 - e depois Mulher Polícia (1998) de Joaquim Sapinho. Não esperemos o melhor - mas vamos ver: são compatriotas. Na RTP1, à meia noite, Havana, cidade perdida (Lost City, 2005), a Cuba pré-revolucionária e revolucionária vista por Andy Garcia, um bom filme com algumas verdades inconvenientes sobre a Revolución - que inclui um supérfluo embora belíssimo "portfolio" de Inés Sastre e a participação em dois grandes pequenos papéis de Dustin Hoffman e Bill Murray. A propósito de Bill Murray, à uma da manhã, a TVI passa Golpe a frio (The Ice Harvest, 2005), escrito e dirigido por Harold Ramis, velho cúmplice de Murray na comédia - como dizer? - "adolescente" ou infantilóide de primeira classe (veja-se, por ex. Os caça-fantasmas - Ghostbusters, 1984) e autor de um só grande acerto: Groundhog Day, 1993 - também com Bill Murray, por acaso. Golpe a frio é com John Cusack e Billy Bob Thornton, uma recomendação. Have a nice night.
A MAGIA DA RECONCILIAÇÃO
Robert Lee e Ulisses Grant assinam em Appomatox o fim da Guerra Civil americana .
"No president has come near to rivaling Lincoln as a writer. It's customary to salute Ulysses Grant's "Personal Memoirs" as the greatest book ever written by a president; it has a somber grandeur and dispassion, but Grant on the Civil War is, on the whole, less vivid than his comrade-in-arms William T. Sherman, who brings the reader into the noise and stink of battle as Grant does not. The colossal reputation of "Personal Memoirs" owes much to the half-dozen pages, in chapter 67, where Grant accepts Robert E. Lee's surrender at Appomattox, and renders it as a dignified reunion of old friends ("The conversation grew so pleasant that I almost forgot the object of our meeting"). The symbolism of that moment, as the Confederacy and the Union come together in a scene of almost dreamlike concord, is so deeply affecting that it elevates the whole book far above its otherwise gruff, soldierly prose. The battles (Chattanooga, Spottsylvania, Franklin, Nashville...) blur and fade; what we remember is Grant and Lee comfortably reminiscing about their shared past and thereby pointing the way forward for a nation at peace."
"No president has come near to rivaling Lincoln as a writer. It's customary to salute Ulysses Grant's "Personal Memoirs" as the greatest book ever written by a president; it has a somber grandeur and dispassion, but Grant on the Civil War is, on the whole, less vivid than his comrade-in-arms William T. Sherman, who brings the reader into the noise and stink of battle as Grant does not. The colossal reputation of "Personal Memoirs" owes much to the half-dozen pages, in chapter 67, where Grant accepts Robert E. Lee's surrender at Appomattox, and renders it as a dignified reunion of old friends ("The conversation grew so pleasant that I almost forgot the object of our meeting"). The symbolism of that moment, as the Confederacy and the Union come together in a scene of almost dreamlike concord, is so deeply affecting that it elevates the whole book far above its otherwise gruff, soldierly prose. The battles (Chattanooga, Spottsylvania, Franklin, Nashville...) blur and fade; what we remember is Grant and Lee comfortably reminiscing about their shared past and thereby pointing the way forward for a nation at peace."
(Jonatham Raban,"All the President's Literature" in The WSJ 9-1-2009)
quinta-feira, janeiro 08, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - AINDA NÃO É TARDE DEMAIS
O programa desta noite é simples: às 23.35, no Hollywood, Manhattan (1979), de Woody Allen, que não garanto que seja o seu melhor filme, mas está certamente entre os melhores e é dos mais - como dizer? - "emblemáticos". Uma entrada esplendorosa com a música de Gershwin e as imagens a preto e branco de Gordon Willis chega para o recomendar. É também o amadurecimento da persona cinematográfica de Diane Keaton - que tem uma réplica que gosto de repetir: I can't plan that far ahead! (O protagonista masculino acaba de lhe dizer que daí a quinze dias já vai estar arrependida de o deixar e voltar para o antigo amante.) E um notável pequeno papel "antipático" de Meryl Streep. À tarde - se tratássemos de matinés -teríamos recomendado, às 16.00, na RTP Memória, O homem que nunca existiu (The man that never was, 1956), um filme de espionagens na II Guerra Mundial, realizado por Ronald Neame, nos primeiros anos do cinema-aos-copos (uma gracinha da época) por contraposição ao cinema aos cálices de certas salas de pequenos écrans; e, às 17.00, no Holywood, Stalag 17 (O inferno na terra, 1953) um filme que escandalizou muita gente, numa fase mais flagrantemente amarga de Billy Wilder, nos anos 50, em que se sucederam Sunset Boulevard (1950), Ace in the hole, também conhecido por The Big Carnival (1951) e este retrato politicamente incorrecto de um campo de prisioneiros na Alemanha nacional-socialista em guerra.
segunda-feira, janeiro 05, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - POR UM TRIZ
Já não chego a tempo de lembrar utilmente a ninguém que o TCM passava esta noite - às 20.00 - o Lolita (1962), Vladimir Nabokov, um formalista da literatura, interpretado por um formalista do cinema, Stanley Kubrick, com um resultado indeciso - para mim - mas não desinteressante. Nem que Pale Rider (Justiceiro solitário, Clint Eastwood, 1985), uma cowbóiada de ressonâncias apocalípticas, prolonga nesta segunda-feira o ciclo de westerns da semana passada (começou às 21.30 no Hollywood). Resta-nos uma única sugestão ainda, por uns minutos, em tempo útil: As minas de Salomão (King's Solomon Mines, 1950), com Stewart Granger e Deborah Kerr no filme do livro que Eça de Queirós "traduziu" - para melhor. Que me lembre, foi o primeiro filme a sério que vi na minha vida, quando se estreou no então cinema São Luiz.
E ESTA? ACADÉMICO RUSSO PREVÊ O FIM DOS ESTADOS UNIDOS
DECEMBER 29, 2008
As if Things Weren't Bad Enough, Russian Professor Predicts End of U.S.
In Moscow, Igor Panarin's Forecasts Are All the Rage; America 'Disintegrates' in 2010
By ANDREW OSBORN
MOSCOW -- For a decade, Russian academic Igor Panarin has been predicting the U.S. will fall apart in 2010. For most of that time, he admits, few took his argument -- that an economic and moral collapse will trigger a civil war and the eventual breakup of the U.S. -- very seriously. Now he's found an eager audience: Russian state media.
Igor Panarin
In recent weeks, he's been interviewed as much as twice a day about his predictions. "It's a record," says Prof. Panarin. "But I think the attention is going to grow even stronger."
Prof. Panarin, 50 years old, is not a fringe figure. A former KGB analyst, he is dean of the Russian Foreign Ministry's academy for future diplomats. He is invited to Kremlin receptions, lectures students, publishes books, and appears in the media as an expert on U.S.-Russia relations.
But it's his bleak forecast for the U.S. that is music to the ears of the Kremlin, which in recent years has blamed Washington for everything from instability in the Middle East to the global financial crisis. Mr. Panarin's views also fit neatly with the Kremlin's narrative that Russia is returning to its rightful place on the world stage after the weakness of the 1990s, when many feared that the country would go economically and politically bankrupt and break into separate territories.
A polite and cheerful man with a buzz cut, Mr. Panarin insists he does not dislike Americans. But he warns that the outlook for them is dire.
"There's a 55-45% chance right now that disintegration will occur," he says. "One could rejoice in that process," he adds, poker-faced. "But if we're talking reasonably, it's not the best scenario -- for Russia." Though Russia would become more powerful on the global stage, he says, its economy would suffer because it currently depends heavily on the dollar and on trade with the U.S.
Mr. Panarin posits, in brief, that mass immigration, economic decline, and moral degradation will trigger a civil war next fall and the collapse of the dollar. Around the end of June 2010, or early July, he says, the U.S. will break into six pieces -- with Alaska reverting to Russian control.
In addition to increasing coverage in state media, which are tightly controlled by the Kremlin, Mr. Panarin's ideas are now being widely discussed among local experts. He presented his theory at a recent roundtable discussion at the Foreign Ministry. The country's top international relations school has hosted him as a keynote speaker. During an appearance on the state TV channel Rossiya, the station cut between his comments and TV footage of lines at soup kitchens and crowds of homeless people in the U.S. The professor has also been featured on the Kremlin's English-language propaganda channel, Russia Today.
Mr. Panarin's apocalyptic vision "reflects a very pronounced degree of anti-Americanism in Russia today," says Vladimir Pozner, a prominent TV journalist in Russia. "It's much stronger than it was in the Soviet Union."
Mr. Pozner and other Russian commentators and experts on the U.S. dismiss Mr. Panarin's predictions. "Crazy ideas are not usually discussed by serious people," says Sergei Rogov, director of the government-run Institute for U.S. and Canadian Studies, who thinks Mr. Panarin's theories don't hold water.
Mr. Panarin's résumé includes many years in the Soviet KGB, an experience shared by other top Russian officials. His office, in downtown Moscow, shows his national pride, with pennants on the wall bearing the emblem of the FSB, the KGB's successor agency. It is also full of statuettes of eagles; a double-headed eagle was the symbol of czarist Russia.
The professor says he began his career in the KGB in 1976. In post-Soviet Russia, he got a doctorate in political science, studied U.S. economics, and worked for FAPSI, then the Russian equivalent of the U.S. National Security Agency. He says he did strategy forecasts for then-President Boris Yeltsin, adding that the details are "classified."
In September 1998, he attended a conference in Linz, Austria, devoted to information warfare, the use of data to get an edge over a rival. It was there, in front of 400 fellow delegates, that he first presented his theory about the collapse of the U.S. in 2010.
"When I pushed the button on my computer and the map of the United States disintegrated, hundreds of people cried out in surprise," he remembers. He says most in the audience were skeptical. "They didn't believe me."
At the end of the presentation, he says many delegates asked him to autograph copies of the map showing a dismembered U.S.
He based the forecast on classified data supplied to him by FAPSI analysts, he says. He predicts that economic, financial and demographic trends will provoke a political and social crisis in the U.S. When the going gets tough, he says, wealthier states will withhold funds from the federal government and effectively secede from the union. Social unrest up to and including a civil war will follow. The U.S. will then split along ethnic lines, and foreign powers will move in.
California will form the nucleus of what he calls "The Californian Republic," and will be part of China or under Chinese influence. Texas will be the heart of "The Texas Republic," a cluster of states that will go to Mexico or fall under Mexican influence. Washington, D.C., and New York will be part of an "Atlantic America" that may join the European Union. Canada will grab a group of Northern states Prof. Panarin calls "The Central North American Republic." Hawaii, he suggests, will be a protectorate of Japan or China, and Alaska will be subsumed into Russia.
"It would be reasonable for Russia to lay claim to Alaska; it was part of the Russian Empire for a long time." A framed satellite image of the Bering Strait that separates Alaska from Russia like a thread hangs from his office wall. "It's not there for no reason," he says with a sly grin.
Interest in his forecast revived this fall when he published an article in Izvestia, one of Russia's biggest national dailies. In it, he reiterated his theory, called U.S. foreign debt "a pyramid scheme," and predicted China and Russia would usurp Washington's role as a global financial regulator.
Americans hope President-elect Barack Obama "can work miracles," he wrote. "But when spring comes, it will be clear that there are no miracles."
The article prompted a question about the White House's reaction to Prof. Panarin's forecast at a December news conference. "I'll have to decline to comment," spokeswoman Dana Perino said amid much laughter.
For Prof. Panarin, Ms. Perino's response was significant. "The way the answer was phrased was an indication that my views are being listened to very carefully," he says.
The professor says he's convinced that people are taking his theory more seriously. People like him have forecast similar cataclysms before, he says, and been right. He cites French political scientist Emmanuel Todd. Mr. Todd is famous for having rightly forecast the demise of the Soviet Union -- 15 years beforehand. "When he forecast the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1976, people laughed at him," says Prof. Panarin.
As if Things Weren't Bad Enough, Russian Professor Predicts End of U.S.
In Moscow, Igor Panarin's Forecasts Are All the Rage; America 'Disintegrates' in 2010
By ANDREW OSBORN
MOSCOW -- For a decade, Russian academic Igor Panarin has been predicting the U.S. will fall apart in 2010. For most of that time, he admits, few took his argument -- that an economic and moral collapse will trigger a civil war and the eventual breakup of the U.S. -- very seriously. Now he's found an eager audience: Russian state media.
Igor Panarin
In recent weeks, he's been interviewed as much as twice a day about his predictions. "It's a record," says Prof. Panarin. "But I think the attention is going to grow even stronger."
Prof. Panarin, 50 years old, is not a fringe figure. A former KGB analyst, he is dean of the Russian Foreign Ministry's academy for future diplomats. He is invited to Kremlin receptions, lectures students, publishes books, and appears in the media as an expert on U.S.-Russia relations.
But it's his bleak forecast for the U.S. that is music to the ears of the Kremlin, which in recent years has blamed Washington for everything from instability in the Middle East to the global financial crisis. Mr. Panarin's views also fit neatly with the Kremlin's narrative that Russia is returning to its rightful place on the world stage after the weakness of the 1990s, when many feared that the country would go economically and politically bankrupt and break into separate territories.
A polite and cheerful man with a buzz cut, Mr. Panarin insists he does not dislike Americans. But he warns that the outlook for them is dire.
"There's a 55-45% chance right now that disintegration will occur," he says. "One could rejoice in that process," he adds, poker-faced. "But if we're talking reasonably, it's not the best scenario -- for Russia." Though Russia would become more powerful on the global stage, he says, its economy would suffer because it currently depends heavily on the dollar and on trade with the U.S.
Mr. Panarin posits, in brief, that mass immigration, economic decline, and moral degradation will trigger a civil war next fall and the collapse of the dollar. Around the end of June 2010, or early July, he says, the U.S. will break into six pieces -- with Alaska reverting to Russian control.
In addition to increasing coverage in state media, which are tightly controlled by the Kremlin, Mr. Panarin's ideas are now being widely discussed among local experts. He presented his theory at a recent roundtable discussion at the Foreign Ministry. The country's top international relations school has hosted him as a keynote speaker. During an appearance on the state TV channel Rossiya, the station cut between his comments and TV footage of lines at soup kitchens and crowds of homeless people in the U.S. The professor has also been featured on the Kremlin's English-language propaganda channel, Russia Today.
Mr. Panarin's apocalyptic vision "reflects a very pronounced degree of anti-Americanism in Russia today," says Vladimir Pozner, a prominent TV journalist in Russia. "It's much stronger than it was in the Soviet Union."
Mr. Pozner and other Russian commentators and experts on the U.S. dismiss Mr. Panarin's predictions. "Crazy ideas are not usually discussed by serious people," says Sergei Rogov, director of the government-run Institute for U.S. and Canadian Studies, who thinks Mr. Panarin's theories don't hold water.
Mr. Panarin's résumé includes many years in the Soviet KGB, an experience shared by other top Russian officials. His office, in downtown Moscow, shows his national pride, with pennants on the wall bearing the emblem of the FSB, the KGB's successor agency. It is also full of statuettes of eagles; a double-headed eagle was the symbol of czarist Russia.
The professor says he began his career in the KGB in 1976. In post-Soviet Russia, he got a doctorate in political science, studied U.S. economics, and worked for FAPSI, then the Russian equivalent of the U.S. National Security Agency. He says he did strategy forecasts for then-President Boris Yeltsin, adding that the details are "classified."
In September 1998, he attended a conference in Linz, Austria, devoted to information warfare, the use of data to get an edge over a rival. It was there, in front of 400 fellow delegates, that he first presented his theory about the collapse of the U.S. in 2010.
"When I pushed the button on my computer and the map of the United States disintegrated, hundreds of people cried out in surprise," he remembers. He says most in the audience were skeptical. "They didn't believe me."
At the end of the presentation, he says many delegates asked him to autograph copies of the map showing a dismembered U.S.
He based the forecast on classified data supplied to him by FAPSI analysts, he says. He predicts that economic, financial and demographic trends will provoke a political and social crisis in the U.S. When the going gets tough, he says, wealthier states will withhold funds from the federal government and effectively secede from the union. Social unrest up to and including a civil war will follow. The U.S. will then split along ethnic lines, and foreign powers will move in.
California will form the nucleus of what he calls "The Californian Republic," and will be part of China or under Chinese influence. Texas will be the heart of "The Texas Republic," a cluster of states that will go to Mexico or fall under Mexican influence. Washington, D.C., and New York will be part of an "Atlantic America" that may join the European Union. Canada will grab a group of Northern states Prof. Panarin calls "The Central North American Republic." Hawaii, he suggests, will be a protectorate of Japan or China, and Alaska will be subsumed into Russia.
"It would be reasonable for Russia to lay claim to Alaska; it was part of the Russian Empire for a long time." A framed satellite image of the Bering Strait that separates Alaska from Russia like a thread hangs from his office wall. "It's not there for no reason," he says with a sly grin.
Interest in his forecast revived this fall when he published an article in Izvestia, one of Russia's biggest national dailies. In it, he reiterated his theory, called U.S. foreign debt "a pyramid scheme," and predicted China and Russia would usurp Washington's role as a global financial regulator.
Americans hope President-elect Barack Obama "can work miracles," he wrote. "But when spring comes, it will be clear that there are no miracles."
The article prompted a question about the White House's reaction to Prof. Panarin's forecast at a December news conference. "I'll have to decline to comment," spokeswoman Dana Perino said amid much laughter.
For Prof. Panarin, Ms. Perino's response was significant. "The way the answer was phrased was an indication that my views are being listened to very carefully," he says.
The professor says he's convinced that people are taking his theory more seriously. People like him have forecast similar cataclysms before, he says, and been right. He cites French political scientist Emmanuel Todd. Mr. Todd is famous for having rightly forecast the demise of the Soviet Union -- 15 years beforehand. "When he forecast the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1976, people laughed at him," says Prof. Panarin.
sábado, janeiro 03, 2009
GRANDE FITA - L.A.CONFIDENTIAL
Revi sexta à noite este filme de Curtis Hanson, com guião a partir do livro de James Ellroy, um autor que me foi recomendado pelo Miguel Beleza. Grande fita, com um grande elenco - Kevin Spacey, Russell Crowe, Guy Pearce, Danny de Vito, James Cromwell (o péssimo polícia cínico e corrupto...)e Kim Basinger, lindíssima.
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - ATÉ AO FIM
Mesmo a sessão de sábado da RTP2 é dedicada aos índios e cowboys e que índios e cowboys: nada menos que A desaparecida, de John Ford (The Searchers, 1956 - os anos 50 e os westerns parecem feitos uns para os outros); a seguir (mesmo canal, 00.45) o Directed by John Ford, de Peter Bogdanovitch, 1971. John Ford, na sua ilustre carreira de dezenas de filmes não fez só filmes de cowboys, nem de longe, mas o certo é que numa célebre intervenção numa assembleia de realizadores se levantou e disse: My name is John Ford. I make westerns. Fora isso, também não se perde nada em passar pelo TCM às 20.00, onde é exibido outra vez o magnífico The Asphalt Jungle (Quando a cidade dorme, 1950), de John Huston, ou, às 00.20, no AXN, O alfaiate do Panamá (2001), o realizador John Boorman de novo em grande forma e um filme melhor do que o romance de John Le Carré em que se baseou, com Pierce Brosnan, Geoffrey Rush, Jamie Lee Curtis e Brendan Gleeson no seu melhor; a história toma como modelo um daqueles entertainments de Graham Greene que nos valeram algumas das suas melhores páginas, Our man in Havana (também deu um filme, razoavel mas não totalmente conseguido, de Carol Reed, com Alec Guinness e Noel Coward, 1959).
MORTE DE UM GENERAL
Victor "Brute" Krulak (1913-2009)
By STEPHEN MILLER
An unconventional thinker in the ultimate hierarchy, Lt. Gen. Victor H. Krulak dreamed up new ways to bring force to bear on U.S. military opponents, and clashed with the Pentagon over strategy in Vietnam while serving as Marine commander in the Pacific basin.
The Marines' most prominent strategic thinker of his day, Gen. Krulak had raided Japanese strongholds during World War II and helped devise the landing at Inchon in 1950 that turned the tide in Korea. He was among the first to realize that big attack helicopters might have fearsome war-making potential. It was at his insistence that the Navy developed Higgins boats, the boxy craft that ferried men and materiel from boats to beaches in World War II, coughing them up via a flip-down ramp. Without them, Eisenhower said, "we never could have landed over an open beach. The whole strategy of the war would have been different."
Gen. Krulak's nickname, Brute, was a Naval Academy nod to his diminutive stature. At 5 feet 4 inches, he was said to be the shortest man in the history of the Marines, and needed a special dispensation to join. As the story goes, he had a friend clobber him over the head to raise a welt high enough to satisfy the 5-foot-6 minimum -- a myth, according to his son, Gen. Charles Krulak, who served as Marine commandant from 1995 to 1999.
The sobriquet stuck because it fit his warrior ethic. In bureaucratic trenches, he had helped formulate the parts of the National Security Act of 1947 and its 1952 amendments that saved the Marine Corps from being dismantled. He was given his first general's star at age 43. In his history of the Marine Corps, "First to Fight," Gen. Krulak later wrote, "Fighting for the right to fight often presented greater challenges than fighting [the] country's enemies."
In 1962, President John F. Kennedy named Gen. Krulak his special assistant for counterinsurgency and special activities, a post that included planning "destructive undertakings" in North Vietnam, according to the leaked Pentagon Papers. Close to both the president and to Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, Gen. Krulak was in those days among the sunniest of optimists about the conflict, believing that success lay in supporting the Diem regime and bringing a battle of attrition to the Communists. Once, in 1963, he returned from an inspection tour of the country with State Department official Joseph A. Mendenhall, who was far more pessimistic. After a joint briefing, Mr. Kennedy looked at them and said, "You two did visit the same country, didn't you?"
In 1964, Gen. Krulak assumed command of the Fleet Marine Force, Pacific, giving him overall logistics and support responsibility for 80,000 Marines in Vietnam. Based in Hawaii, he debriefed every field officer who returned from Vietnam and developed a plan to fight insurgents by winning the hearts and minds of villagers. He dubbed the approach the "inkblot" strategy, for how counterinsurgency would slowly spread, village by village, on the map.
In late 1965, Gen. Krulak produced a lengthy strategic proposal that urged pacification through localized military units, land reform and social benefits, instead of the big-battle strategy identified with Gen. William Westmoreland, who held command of military operations. The traditional strategy of trying to interdict supply lines "can be likened to fighting an alligator by chewing on its tail," he wrote in his proposal. Rather than fighting for territory, he proposed a strategy in which "the Vietnamese people are the prize."
It was hardly a pacific plan, though, as it included the mining of Haiphong harbor to cut off foreign supplies. This detail, which might have antagonized the Russians or Chinese, soured President Lyndon Johnson on the idea.
The president dismissed Gen. Krulak from a White House meeting and then selected a rival as overall Marine commandant in 1968. Gen. Krulak promptly retired, going to work as an executive and sometime columnist for the Copley News Service. It was an abrupt ending to a splashy military career.
On the mining of Haiphong harbor, "he hearkened back to Korea," says his son, Charles. "His idea was to isolate it and throw in more forces." His son adds that Gen. Krulak felt his differences with Mr. Johnson were why he wasn't appointed commandant.
Posted to China in 1937 as a first lieutenant, Gen. Krulak that year witnessed at close quarters an amphibious assault on Shanghai by the Japanese, their landing craft outfitted with retractable ramps. He sent a report with photos of the odd boats to Washington, where he knew that the hunt was on for a method of landing Marines on seashores. Hearing nothing, he followed up when he returned to the U.S. two years later, and found his report filed away with a marginal note that it was the work of "some nut in China." Undeterred, he built a footlong balsa model and took it to Brigadier Gen. Holland "Howlin' Mad" Smith, who helped initiate the primary landing craft of World War II.
Gen. Krulak commanded a battalion in the South Pacific in 1943, and that October conducted a series of raids on the island of Choiseul, meant as a diversion for the invasion of nearby Bougainville. Then a lieutenant colonel, he made headlines, this time for his gruesome mastery of unconventional warfare. His men put razor blades in the handholds of the trees Japanese snipers used as perches.
"They would run up the trees about 10 feet, then drop suddenly, and while they were looking at their hands someone would shoot them," he explained to the Associated Press. He said that when he ambushed a group of the enemy lunching on the beach, they fled "in most un-Samurai-like fashion."
As Gen. Krulak left Choiseul with about 30 men, his landing craft was rescued from sinking on a coral reef by a torpedo boat skippered by a young Navy lieutenant named John F. Kennedy. The two veterans met again in 1961 in the White House, where they toasted their wartime experiences with a bottle of whiskey Gen. Krulak had promised Kennedy if they escaped Choiseul alive.
Hearty enough to attend a Marine parade in his honor a couple of months ago, Gen. Krulak died Monday at age 95 at a hospital near his home in San Diego. Survivors include his son, who recalls, "He was short in stature but he had a 60-pound brain."
By STEPHEN MILLER
An unconventional thinker in the ultimate hierarchy, Lt. Gen. Victor H. Krulak dreamed up new ways to bring force to bear on U.S. military opponents, and clashed with the Pentagon over strategy in Vietnam while serving as Marine commander in the Pacific basin.
The Marines' most prominent strategic thinker of his day, Gen. Krulak had raided Japanese strongholds during World War II and helped devise the landing at Inchon in 1950 that turned the tide in Korea. He was among the first to realize that big attack helicopters might have fearsome war-making potential. It was at his insistence that the Navy developed Higgins boats, the boxy craft that ferried men and materiel from boats to beaches in World War II, coughing them up via a flip-down ramp. Without them, Eisenhower said, "we never could have landed over an open beach. The whole strategy of the war would have been different."
Gen. Krulak's nickname, Brute, was a Naval Academy nod to his diminutive stature. At 5 feet 4 inches, he was said to be the shortest man in the history of the Marines, and needed a special dispensation to join. As the story goes, he had a friend clobber him over the head to raise a welt high enough to satisfy the 5-foot-6 minimum -- a myth, according to his son, Gen. Charles Krulak, who served as Marine commandant from 1995 to 1999.
The sobriquet stuck because it fit his warrior ethic. In bureaucratic trenches, he had helped formulate the parts of the National Security Act of 1947 and its 1952 amendments that saved the Marine Corps from being dismantled. He was given his first general's star at age 43. In his history of the Marine Corps, "First to Fight," Gen. Krulak later wrote, "Fighting for the right to fight often presented greater challenges than fighting [the] country's enemies."
In 1962, President John F. Kennedy named Gen. Krulak his special assistant for counterinsurgency and special activities, a post that included planning "destructive undertakings" in North Vietnam, according to the leaked Pentagon Papers. Close to both the president and to Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, Gen. Krulak was in those days among the sunniest of optimists about the conflict, believing that success lay in supporting the Diem regime and bringing a battle of attrition to the Communists. Once, in 1963, he returned from an inspection tour of the country with State Department official Joseph A. Mendenhall, who was far more pessimistic. After a joint briefing, Mr. Kennedy looked at them and said, "You two did visit the same country, didn't you?"
In 1964, Gen. Krulak assumed command of the Fleet Marine Force, Pacific, giving him overall logistics and support responsibility for 80,000 Marines in Vietnam. Based in Hawaii, he debriefed every field officer who returned from Vietnam and developed a plan to fight insurgents by winning the hearts and minds of villagers. He dubbed the approach the "inkblot" strategy, for how counterinsurgency would slowly spread, village by village, on the map.
In late 1965, Gen. Krulak produced a lengthy strategic proposal that urged pacification through localized military units, land reform and social benefits, instead of the big-battle strategy identified with Gen. William Westmoreland, who held command of military operations. The traditional strategy of trying to interdict supply lines "can be likened to fighting an alligator by chewing on its tail," he wrote in his proposal. Rather than fighting for territory, he proposed a strategy in which "the Vietnamese people are the prize."
It was hardly a pacific plan, though, as it included the mining of Haiphong harbor to cut off foreign supplies. This detail, which might have antagonized the Russians or Chinese, soured President Lyndon Johnson on the idea.
The president dismissed Gen. Krulak from a White House meeting and then selected a rival as overall Marine commandant in 1968. Gen. Krulak promptly retired, going to work as an executive and sometime columnist for the Copley News Service. It was an abrupt ending to a splashy military career.
On the mining of Haiphong harbor, "he hearkened back to Korea," says his son, Charles. "His idea was to isolate it and throw in more forces." His son adds that Gen. Krulak felt his differences with Mr. Johnson were why he wasn't appointed commandant.
Posted to China in 1937 as a first lieutenant, Gen. Krulak that year witnessed at close quarters an amphibious assault on Shanghai by the Japanese, their landing craft outfitted with retractable ramps. He sent a report with photos of the odd boats to Washington, where he knew that the hunt was on for a method of landing Marines on seashores. Hearing nothing, he followed up when he returned to the U.S. two years later, and found his report filed away with a marginal note that it was the work of "some nut in China." Undeterred, he built a footlong balsa model and took it to Brigadier Gen. Holland "Howlin' Mad" Smith, who helped initiate the primary landing craft of World War II.
Gen. Krulak commanded a battalion in the South Pacific in 1943, and that October conducted a series of raids on the island of Choiseul, meant as a diversion for the invasion of nearby Bougainville. Then a lieutenant colonel, he made headlines, this time for his gruesome mastery of unconventional warfare. His men put razor blades in the handholds of the trees Japanese snipers used as perches.
"They would run up the trees about 10 feet, then drop suddenly, and while they were looking at their hands someone would shoot them," he explained to the Associated Press. He said that when he ambushed a group of the enemy lunching on the beach, they fled "in most un-Samurai-like fashion."
As Gen. Krulak left Choiseul with about 30 men, his landing craft was rescued from sinking on a coral reef by a torpedo boat skippered by a young Navy lieutenant named John F. Kennedy. The two veterans met again in 1961 in the White House, where they toasted their wartime experiences with a bottle of whiskey Gen. Krulak had promised Kennedy if they escaped Choiseul alive.
Hearty enough to attend a Marine parade in his honor a couple of months ago, Gen. Krulak died Monday at age 95 at a hospital near his home in San Diego. Survivors include his son, who recalls, "He was short in stature but he had a 60-pound brain."
(In WSJ 2-1-2009)
sexta-feira, janeiro 02, 2009
QUE FITA VAI HOJE? - MAIS COWBOYS
Hoje a RTP Memória faz concorrência - quase - à RTP2: às 22.oo exibe Alvarez Kelly (1966), um western de Edward Dmytryk, que se vai sobrepôr à última das cinco noites da RTP2 dedicada ao género (às 23.25, The Outlaw Josey Wales, de Clint Eastwood, 1976). Dmytryk não foi propriamente um especialista em filmes de cowboys, mas assinou pelo menos três, além deste, todos a puxar ao portentoso: Broken Lance (A lança quebrada, 1954), que teve a sua reputação, Warlock (O homem das pistolas de oiro, 1959) e Shalako (1968), uma produção alemã (?) - mas não foi a Alemanha a pátria de um prolífico e bem sucedido escritor de westerns (Karl May, 1842-1912)? Shalako é uma adaptação de um dos mais célebres e cotados escritores de westerns dos Estados Unidos, Louis L'Amour, também dos mais utilizados pelo cinema, embora não tanto, acho eu, como Elmore Leonard (tenho preguiça de ir verificar). Dmytyk viveu praticamente o mesmo que o século XX (1908-1999) - mais, se considerarmos o "século XX curto" - 1914- 1989 - do historiador comunista, y sin embargo a ler, Eric Hobsbawm. E votos de um Bom 2009 para todos, claro.
quinta-feira, janeiro 01, 2009
MEMÓRIA DE ANO NOVO - PARIS COM NEVE
Utrillo, Notre Dame de Clignancourt. Este era um dos "Paris sous la neige..." de que me lembrei, nos JOGOS AFRICANOS, na passagem por Paris em Dezembro de 2001. A nossa geração, nos seus clichés tem irremediàvelmente Paris - como filmes do Godard e do Bergman, canções do Brel, fotos de Angola e da Argélia nos anos 60, longas viagens de carro Lisboa-Coimbra-Porto, alfarrabistas da Calçada do Combro (que foi o que ficou...)
Agora estou às voltas com a Idade Média tardia. Bom Ano para todos!
Agora estou às voltas com a Idade Média tardia. Bom Ano para todos!