I am compulsive in my hobbies. And I have plenty of time. In other words, if something fascinates me, I consume it and enjoy it in one go, even if my eyes close at night due to the pills that have been making me sleep for a long time. Only films and series that captivate me forever achieve this. Or special things that appear on platforms from time to time, often cloned in their mediocrity, which I had no choice but to access despite my heroic ignorance and technological inability. And I like Apple for the five memorable episodes of the documentary Mr. Scorsese.
He is one of the most impressive directors in the history of cinema. He is a very complex individual, full of lights, but also of shadows and insecurities, but with them he has often managed to create art. And there are truly pathetic moments in the existence of that asthmatic boy, surrounded by a mafia environment during childhood and adolescence, a voracious drug addict, generous with other people’s talent. Robbie Robertson, the leader of the Band, who made that beautiful film called The last waltz, recreating the farewell concert of that mythical group, he says that they did it in a pitiful state, with an exclusive goddess called cocaine.
And Scorsese also says he was dying in the hospital from the white substance. Well, oh fucking life. And Robert De Niro convinces him to get up and roll over wild bullhis probable salvation by representing a self-destructive character.
I also see on Apple, on the advice of a friend who I almost always trust, the first five chapters of the series The morning show. There is intelligence, personality and complexity in those screenplays that talk about television, MeToo, power relations, intrigues in a very powerful world of work, dependence on the public and advertising.
She is played by two excellent actresses who aspire to conquer Christ all with the morning news. And logically I end up thinking about our morning plans. I usually do zapping continuously, whether these programs are supposedly right-wing or left-wing. What could it be? I wonder. They are supposedly trying to charm the unemployed and the elderly in the name of truthful information. But in the middle of that scheduled theater there is a lady I want to see. And listen to him, even if not always. It’s Susanna Griso. A more than competent professional. And an attractive woman too. And let the fools in the pay of the opportunist Inquisition come and attack me for my sexist language and intentions.
