Último Tango em Paris
Ultimo tango a Parigi
Realização:
Bernardo BertolucciCâmara:
Vittorio StoraroMúsica:
Gato BarbieriElenco:
Marlon Brando, Maria Schneider, Maria Michi, Marie-Hélène Breillat, Catherine Breillat, Jean-Pierre Léaud, Catherine Allégret, Massimo Girotti (mais)Streaming (1)
Sinopses(1)
Paul (Marlon Brando) é um empresário americano de meia idade, viúvo, que vive assombrado pelo suicídio da mulher. Jeanne (Maria Schneider) é uma jovem parisiense, noiva de um jovem realizador. Os dois encontram-se casualmente num apartamento que ambos têm interesse em alugar, no bairro de Passy em Paris. Um encontro que se transforma numa ligação sexual sem compromisso. Paul fica com o apartamento e os dois continuam a encontrar-se, sem nunca partilharem informações pessoais ou sequer revelar os seus nomes. Duas almas atormentadas que se juntam num apartamento tão despido como as suas tristes e trágicas vidas. Apanhados no ritmo incontrolável de uma dança carnal que não conseguem parar, estes amantes improváveis elevam a sua paixão a limites eróticos para lá da sua imaginação. (RTP)
(mais)Críticas (4)
Brando is brilliant, and the same can be said about some passages (the monologue with the dead wife, for example), but at times the film drags unnecessarily.
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Last Tango in Paris is one of the favorite polarizing films that always reveal whether you're going to be a young cinephile or not. So until you're in your twenties, just keep watching, add Salo, or The 120 Days of Sodom and Freaks and you'll feel like a revolutionary rebellious intellectual. Then you realize that the same story repeats itself every generation, but that doesn't matter. The bottom line is that butter is not a good enough lubricant.
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A film where Marlon Brando unquestionably reigns supreme, which in his case seems incredibly effortless. But he was able to simply play every role to the fullest. Yes, even today, the film remains quite controversial, and the butter scene is unforgettable because it's not just about what's happening but also about what's implied.
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“Quo vadis, baby?“ I’m still not at the point when I would be pleased only by a view of anal sex and a quick death, or I don’t know and have no desire to know who is treating their trauma through film/in a film. More than the atmosphere of decadence, more than Storaro’s slightly masturbatory cinematography and more than the effort to depict the sexual revolution without embellishments, I am amazed by Brando’s performance. His gestures, diction, looks. I hated Paul, but I loved his company. Appendix: I still like butter.
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