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Plot:
A melancholy, depressed and jaded television reporter assumes the identity of a dead man while at a hotel in a north African country, not knowing that the man was a renowned arms smuggler. The newsman...( read more
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Suite à la mort subite d'un homme dont il fait la rencontre lors d'un voyage en Afrique, un journaliste simule sa propre mort et substitue son identité à celle du défunt pour se retrouver mêlé malgré lui à quelque louche histoire de revente d'armes. Sur la base de ces intrigantes prémices, Antonioni nous entraîne dans un périple qui se transforme rapidement en chasse à l'homme. Seulement, il le fait dans le plus pur style de son art.
Le rythme du film est très lent; chacune des scènes prend le temps de bien se développer, le personnage s'arrête pour réfléchir, s'allume une clope, s'assoit un instant, bref, vous voyez le topo. Donc si vous attendez que le film "démarre", vous attendrez longtemps. Le personnage interprété par Jack Nicholson ne s'étend pas en paroles inutiles.
On s'associe un peu difficilement à un homme dont on ne comprend la quête tout au plus que de manière approximative. Même la chute, admirablement bien tournée il faut en convenir, est présentée dans le style le plus sobre et discret possible. Un bon film, manifestement tourné avec un oeil pour les paysages envoûtants, mais pas dénué de longueurs. Ne plaira pas aux amateurs de cinéma enlevé.
This melancholic and depressing film has been my first complete Antonioni, and it was intensely boring. Now, I'm really into the little I've seen of the director's aesthetic style, and in that aspect this film is great. But in terms of plot and content, this film is dry and decidedly boring in many sequences. There are some great ideas, and good acting, and it's almost hypnotizing, so I rather liked it. But I'm sure this won't be my favorite Antonioni.
Nothing spectacular, pretty much what you would expect from Jack and Antonioni from that period. Worth watching - maybe. A bit better paced then earlier Antonioni. So chances are you wont fall alseep in this one. Jack is his normal decent self. I never know what to make of Schneider, I still don't think she can act though.
Há apelos difíceis de ignorar. E o feito por Hollywood nos anos 70 a um obstinado Antonioni, em pico de carreira, culminou mesmo na feitura de Zabriskie Point e em Professione:repórter, obras vistas pelos puristas do mestre italiano como menores.
Longe dessa verdade, Professione: repórter conta outra vez, como tema assombrado da personalidade fílmica do seu autor, embora também fruto de contemporaneidade cinematográfica pós neo-realista e nouvelle vague a que deu forma, uma história de malaise e alienação. Com o aparato hollywodesco sempre na sombra e uma rara liberdade de actuação, Antonioni escolheu a dedo os actores, particularmente a dupla Jack Nicholson/ Marie Schneider e partiu para o deserto. E da sua viagem (deles) pelo Mundo, numa afirmação de identidades transitórias que passa no lado de cá para o de lá da câmara, nasceu, à data, um sucesso moderado, quer comercial, quer crítico.
Jack Nicholson, também ele apanhado numa fase da vida de mudança da sua dramatis personae- passando da energia e rudeza viril de Chinatown ou Five Easy Pieces, sucessos anteriores, à aura negra e cerebral de The Shining e One Flew Over the Cuckoo`s Nest)- encarna agora David Locke, um repórter televisivo que investiga os movimentos armados terroristas num país do norte africano. Quando um conhecido do quarto ao lado morre, Locke, sem grande reflexão, decide fugir da sua vida, mulher, emprego, responsabilidades, assumindo a identidade do falecido, transmitindo a morte para si próprio. E desta fuga identitária, que assume na visão de Antonioni uma dimensão de road movie calmo, melancólico e surpreendentemente cosmopolita (alguns dos seus melhores momentos são no sul de Espanha ou em Munique), muito do que se conta são as palavras não ditas de Jack Nicholson, os seus gestos densamente minimais, a sua postura mansa de ebulição intelectual. Confusos? Muito da grandeza de Professione: repórter é sobretudo a superior afirmação, por parte de um actor sanguíneo, de algo que nunca teria sido e certamente nunca voltou a ser, um corpo endemoinhado por uma entidade, uma alienação difícil de explicar.
Da fuga do jornalista à sua perseguição pela Europa, por parte da mulher que deixou, - por ela já não ser aquilo que ele era, como ele que já não queria ser aquilo que é-, parte da correria lenta por casas rústicas, hotéis encaixados na paisagem e linhas do infinito traçadas por estradas percorridas, justifica-se com uma nova postura de vida activa. Ou por outras palavras, o seu novo eu, o assumido com a morte de Robertson (Charles Mulvehill), está mais fincado na vida do que ele estava, tendo assim que correr e abandonar o alheamento e observação passiva próprias do seu jornalismo, pouco inquisitivo.
Como fosse a insatisfação identitária uma corrida à volta da própria cauda (como confessa o protagonista, debaixo de uma árvore à sua nova namorada, que se sente só um, apesar das muitas identidades), Professione: repórter também é, apesar de aparentar o seu contrário, uma obra de imobilidade, uma viagem interior, labirinto emocional kafkiano, que justifica uma circularidade e pontos da contacto no trajecto dos personagens. Claro que, este tipo de leituras metafísicas, e sobretudo metapsíquicas, reconhecidamente o excesso do cinema de Antonioni, verdadeiros locais decadentes de chegada, são infinitamente mais débeis do que estes corpos em fuga(s) que palminham esta Europa estranhamente serena. Ainda assim, as milhentas leituras que carrega Professione: repórter são certamente mais justificadas, ou não fosse, em momento da sua reposição, anunciada a obra no poster lançado entre nós, como a mais narrativa das viagens de Antonioni. E é essa dose de narratividade, esses traços de história, os elementos menos geridos. Demasiadamente marcados e evidentes, reenviam o espectador a um cinema que não é bem o de Antonioni, ou pelo menos, no qual também ele se sente um viajante, como indica o seu título em linha inglesa, The Passenger. Ainda mais, em territórios de produção americana de que The Passenger é um belíssimo relato da sua passagem.
Passagem/busca essas, que terminam numa ascensão à Glória, com vista larga, mas sempre gradeada, para uma vida serena e contraditoriamente cómica. Como se a tarde, que passa lenta com uma criança que atira pedras a um idoso abrigado do calor, ou um aprendiz a condutor que vai e vem, fizessem sentido. E fazem.
Up until its enigmatic conclusion, the narrative of "The Passenger" progresses surprisingly straightforwardly, albeit at a snail's pace and with artsy digressions. After finding a 'businessman' acquaintance named Robertson dead in his hotel room, David Locke (Jack Nicholson), a jaded journalist, fakes his own death, assumes the other's identity and hops around Europe keeping the dead man's appointments. When the nature of Robertson's business turns out to be gunrunning, Locke finds himself pursued by agents of an African despot, to whose enemies the real Robertson was supplying arms, as well as by his own abandoned 'widow', seeking answers about her husband's 'death'.
There's an early shot I especially like that contrasts fascinatingly with Omar Sharif's memorable first appearance in "Lawrence of Arabia". As a Bedouin riding a camel tantalizingly approaches Locke's stationary Land Rover, Antonioni's camera deliberately pans away to Nicholson, drinking water from a canteen at the vehicle's rear. "The Passenger" and "Lawrence of Arabia" are both visually stunning movies, the obvious difference being that Antonioni eschews a spectacular visual style in favour of naturalism and the beauty of the mundane. There are also a couple of wonderful, seamless transitions into and out of flashback, within the space of a single camera movement. Though undeniably impressive, the film's climactic long take, the penultimate shot of the movie, is a little too self-consciously orchestrated to be wholly delightful. Jack Nicholson and Maria Schneider are good but Jenny Runacre is lousy as Nicholson's wife.
2005?
The Passenger (Professione: reporter) is a film directed and co-written by Michelangelo Antonioni, released in 1975, in which Jack Nicholson stars as a reporter in Africa who assumes the identity of a dead stranger. The film was nominated for the "Palme d'Or" award at the 1975 Cannes Film Festival.
have an interesting storie, and Jack Nicholson, but is to slow. Maybe with another director could be better
The film delivers its impact with unexpected force for such a slow burning picture. It moves slowly yet determinedly towards its conclusion, which like the rest of the film is quiet and powerful. Still despite its beauty and momentum, which keeps you watching, the motives of its characters are often confused, and certain aspects of the plot must be accepted and moved past without too much questioning. Why does the girl (Maria Schneider) go with Locke? For adventure? To save him? To escape her own life? The girl in the end seems to be more of a trope than a character, albeit a lovely one. My final issue with the film is a personal one. I find it impossible to like Jack Nicholson in any part. I do not doubt his ability, and I am still able to enjoy his movies, but I cannot like a character that he plays. So I could never sympathize with David Locke, and I'm not sure if I was supposed to or not.
Still the movie is intriguing and beautiful (even in its revelation of the ugliness of life), and includes a scene which I think is one of the most brilliantly filmed I've ever seen, which involves Locke, Robertson, and a tape recorder.
Antonioni's once lost 'masterpiece' now looks a little dated and faux-important. Nicholson is interesting - not good, but interesting - and though there are some very good passages here, it's ultimately a flawed film.
Another gorgeously shot Antonioni film. Seeing Africa and Spain through the eyes of Antonioni is enough to make you pack your bags.
The plot line is more traditional for Antonioni, and the premise is very attractive. Wouldn't we all like to escape into someone else's life and not have to worry about our own. After all, isn't that the apeal of cinema? Or any storytelling for that matter.
a slow moving, beautifull shot, beautifully acted by the two leads and a rare gem from actor jack nicholson in his better acting years.
must watch it to expereince it.
a bit more understandable than BlowUp (i'm a slow watcher.. hehe).
how does it feel to die as someone else? :(
One of the more romantic films I've seen, a sensual film about relationship but a very depressing film about being alone. A very beautiful film about a man wanting to leave his past behind, not a horrible past, but a past that he dislikes, a tale of abandonment, of new and honest friendships and a one of the best movies I've seen story-wise, I kept re-winding to see certain scenes again. Also, cinema-wise, an amazing film, to use camera to tell a brilliant tale, to use camera and be able to let function on its own and with the characters if need be, a very innovative use of camera too, sliding through grilles and also moving very nicely, without being noticed by the audience when it moves and when it doesn't, it looks like it moves.
Existential Antonioni. Jack Nicholson is wonderfully understated. A hypnotic journey through life and death. Continuously watchable with truly poetic imagery.
An overlooked masterpiece for Nicholson, Schnieder and Antonioni. Its hard to think of any film that used landscapes and lenses to continue the narrative quite like this.
Very interesting in the first half, then we meets Maria Schneider, she just might be one of the worst actress I've ever seen.... Could have been as good as Blowup but it stills a great film and the last shot is one of the most impressive I've ever seen.
Antonioni's unusual thriller sees Nicholson taking on the identity of a dead man on the run. Measured and spacious, with some stunning location filming, Nicholson has said this is one of his favourite experiences and offers an enthusiastic commentary on the DVD.
The movie that changed the way I watch movies. So quiet and cerebral. Some of the most amazing filmmaking ever. You have to see it.
Ingriguing, existential art-wank drama moves at a snail's pace and betrays nothing of its principal character... but ends with arguably the greatest closing shot you'll ever see.
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