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Julianne Moore Gael García Bernal / Pablo Larraín Christa Théret
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agosto de 2013
s um ário
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4.
Julianne Moore: “Será que dá pra falármos sobre outro assunto?”
Gael García Bernal e Pablo Larraín: Uma crítica positiva ao mais novo filme do diretor chileno.
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Christa Théret: O novo rosto do cinema francês.
editorial A edição de número 1 da Folk.
Não uma revista sobre pessoas
marca o início de uma longa e prós-
em destaque nos tabloides. Não uma
pera jornada entre as figuras em
revista sobre arte.
destaque no mundo artístico, seu(s)
Uma revista sobre pessoas em
projeto(s) mais recente(s), e vocês,
evidência pela qualidade e pertinên-
nossos leitores. Nosso trabalho é pro-
cia de seus trabalhos artísticos mais
duzir pesquisas, entrevistas, críticas,
atuais. Uma mescla de pensamentos
debates, sessões fotográficas e canali-
e ideologias pessoais dos artistas com
zar todas as informações necessárias
a experiência de ter participado de
para oferecer o melhor conteúdo
certo projeto.
sobre os mais importantes trabalhos artísticos em vigência, sejam eles
Um espaço reservado para falar sobre folks.
cinematográficos, musicais, fotográficos, arquitetônicos, através de seus principais realizadores.
LUIZA NICODEMOS editora chefe
equipe editoria chefe LUIZA NICODEMOS direção de arte JOÃO DAMASCENO jornalismo EDUARDO BOURBON www.folk.com.br
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será que podemos
CAPA / matéria em inglês
por / by
falar sobre Simon Hattenstone
outro fotos / photos
de / from
assunto? João Damasceno
can we talk about something else?
Junkies, porn stars, alcoholics and in her latest film What Maisie knew a terrible mother – on screen Julianne Moore lets it all hang out. So surely she won’t mind simon Hattenstone quizzing her about all those sex scenes…? Folk.
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Julianne Moore em ensaio fotogrรกfico para a Folk. dress DOLCE & GABBANA
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m ontauk, New York, final stop on the Long Island Rail Road. Three hours from Manhattan, past the rarefied privilege of the Hamptons, it has that end-of-the-line feel to it: a sleepy, honeysuckled seaside town. This is where kids come to surf, adults to wind down, families to hang. The wellto-do, and the famous, tend to get off the train a few stops earlier. I’m sitting outside an organic cafe waiting for Julianne Moore. All is still and quiet. I’m not sure how Moore fits in here. She’s a brilliant actor, who burns up the screen with that shock of red hair and fiery passion. It would be wrong to say she stars in most of her movies – many of her best films have been epic ensemble pieces, the cinematic equivalent of 10,000-piece jigsaws – but once you have seen Moore, you don’t forget her. As the housewife who seals herself off from the world she finds herself allergic to in Todd Haynes’s Safe, or as the wife of a closeted gay man in Haynes’s Far From Heaven, she brings such brittle intensity to the roles, you can barely breathe watching her. When she does finally crack, it’s a sight to behold: nobody sobs from the soul quite like Moore. Then there’s the anger: she’s magnificent at rage, famously naked from the waist down in Robert Altman’s Short Cuts while arguing with her husband about whether she’s kissed another man. In Magnolia, two pharmacists question the lethal mix of drugs she’s buying. Her mouth opens, she swallows, then it comes. “Motherfucker! You fucking asshole. Who the
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fuck… who the fuck do you think you are? I come in here, you don’t know who I am, what my life is, you have the balls, the indecency, to ask me a question about my life. Fuck you, too. Don’t you call me lady… I am sick!” And let’s not forget sex. While most Hollywood stars are self-conscious, coy or over-actorly in bedroom scenes, Moore simply goes for it, whether as porn star Amber Waves breaking in Dirk Diggler in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights, or as the lesbian mother having an away day with Mark Ruffalo in The Kids Are All Right. Moore’s characters nearly always have affairs outside marriage. One (admiring) website calls her “Hollywood’s go-to gold-star adultress”. So I’m sitting outside the cafe, watching the sun-lovers head for the beach, wondering how this tiny seaside town can contain the mighty spirit that is Julianne Moore, when a slight woman in sundress, sunhat and sunglasses walks up. Her arms are bare and fiercely freckled. Her face is fiercely freckled. Moore sits down and we’ve barely introduced ourselves when she says, “I’ve got more freckles than just about anybody. My children didn’t get them, thankfully. They have tiny little freckles.” It is fair to say that Moore is a little bit freckle-fixated. She has even writtwwen a bestselling children’s book called Freckleface Strawberry, about a red-haired, freckle-faced little girl. No, she didn’t like them as a child, nor did she feel pretty, let alone beautiful. I tell her my older daughter has red hair. “No kidding? Wow! Is she freckly? Does she tan or just stay white?” She wears no makeup, looks pretty if unremarkable and merges seamlessly into the family-friendly, beach-bum environment. Moore assumes I’ve come from New York to see her. That’s a long way, she says. I tell her I’ve come from London. She is shocked, and says she’d better get me some food then. So we head into Joni’s Kitchen,where she recommends the Grateful Veg: organic seasonal veg, tofu or chicken stir-fry with brown rice. Before I can get out my wallet, she’s paid. We head back out into the shade, where she starts telling me her 15-year-old son
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Cal has got his own band and now takes the bus into the city by himself, while her 11-year-old daughter Liv has done the voiceover for the app of Freckleface Strawberry. She stops talking and looks at my plate. “You’re going to need a knife and fork,” she says. Before I can get to my feet, she’s fetched them. In her new film, an adaptation of the Henry James novel What Maisie Knew, we observe shocking parental behaviour from the perspective of a little girl. Moore plays Susanna, a needy, narcissistic rock star who’s split from her husband and taken a lover. She is monstrously selfish: at times, she worries that she’ll lose her daughter Maisie to the boyfriend, at others
that she’ll lose the boyfriend to Maisie. “She’s terrible, right?” Moore grins. “She’s so inconsistent, and the one thing kids need is consistency.” Actors usually tell you how how much they empathise with their characters. Not Moore. For her, Susanna commits the cardinal sin: she neglects her child. “Look, every working parent is struggling with balancing life and work, but that character is abusive.” Moore and her second husband, the film-maker Bart Freundlich, have brought up their children in New York: summer holidays in Montauk, the rest of the year in the city. The golden rule, she says, has been to put the kids first; to shape work around their needs. “They’ve both gone to the same school
i’ve got more freckles than just about anybody. my children didn’t get them, thankfully. they have tiny little freckles. while, they aren’t as friendly: it takes them time to warm up to you. So I say to my kids, if there’s a new kid, you go over and include them, and let’s invite them over.” Moore has said her peripatetic childhood taught her a good deal about herself and human nature: how we change our behaviour according to our environment. She escaped into books. “My mother brought us to the library every week and I read a lot. That’s what kept me company. I went from school to school, but there was always reading.” When she started acting at school, that became another means of escape into different worlds. Moore might have found her childhood destabilising, but she adored her family and is very proud of her parents. They married young,
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since they were in kindergarten.” That must be unusual in the acting world. “It’s, erm, challenging. You know, we’ve managed it.” Her own childhood couldn’t have been more different. She was born at the Fort Bragg army base in North Carolina; her father began as a paratrooper and ended up as a military judge, and the family went from city to city following his job. How many schools did she go to? “Nine?” she says uncertainly. When she was 16, they moved to Germany, where she attended Frankfurt American High School. Was it hard to make friends? “Oh yeah. It’s easier when you go into a military environment because the kids are in the same boat. In a community where people have been there for a
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had children early (Julianne and her younger sister and brother), worked, then went to university, becoming the first in their families to do so. Her mother died four years ago and you sense Moore is still devastated. “Mum was only 68… only 20 years older than me. I didn’t expect her to die. You think: we’re going to be old ladies together.” She stares into her smoothie and comes to a stop. “You know,” she says out of nowhere, “I’m British now.” All bright again, she tells me how she claimed dual nationality. Her mother moved from Scotland to America aged 10, and when she married Moore’s father, she had to renounce her nationality and swear allegiance to America. “I remember she was 27 and came home with an American flag in her hand, crying. She was so upset. I would
have been six. My father was applying for law schools and you couldn’t be married to a foreign national.” Moore has always felt partly British: “I feel my mother became a citizen under duress, and she never let us forget that we weren’t fully American. She’d say, ‘You’re not American, you know? You’re only half American.’ She was very Scottish.” Moore claimed her British passport as belated justice for her mother? “Yes. She’d have been so happy.” Moore has just written a second children’s book, My Mom Is A Foreigner But Not To Me. As we talk, a little girl dressed as a mermaid passes on her way from the beach. Moore smiles at her. “It’s hard to walk when you’re a mermaid, right? How do you walk with that tail?” “I have legs,” the girl says.
dress CHANEL
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coat PRADA
“Oh, I didn’t realise you had legs,” Moore says. Montauk’s full of surprises. I mention a shop I passed with a rude name: You Got Wood. “I hate that,” Moore says. “It’s so offensive. I saw it the other day and I’m like, ugh!… Bye, Mermaid, you look so great!… I had to explain it to my daughter. I said, ‘Do you know what the expression means?’ She said, ‘No.’ I just gave her euphemisms for erections. Don’t make me say them.” Is she incredibly polite? “Well, yeah. Yeah. That’s a nice way to be, right?” “How weird that you are this polite, stable…” “…regular,” she adds. “And yet you play these absolute fruitcakes.” She bursts out laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Yeah!”
What’s it all about? “I’m just pretending.” I don’t get it, I say. Has she never been a junkie, an alcoholic, just a little bit bonkers? “I think everybody has had emotional distress but, yes, I think I’m pretty stable.” Is it not exhausting playing extreme characters, such as in Magnolia? “Yeah, that was exhausting, because I had to be in a state of stress in every single scene.” She mentions in passing that she’s friendly with Daniel Day-Lewis. Does she become her characters as he does? “I have kids. I can’t do that.” Would she have done so before? “I might have. I was much more indulgent then… You can sit around and be in a mood and take your work home with you. But if you have kids to www.folk.com.br
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dress DOLCE & GABBANA shoes MIU MIU
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take care of, you can’t do that to them. It’s not fair.” Did her acting change after having children? “I think I became much more efficient. A lot of mothers will tell you that.” Moore is so mumsy, it makes me even more curious about her lack of inhibition as an actor. I want to talk to you about sex, I say. “Sure, sure, go right ahead,” she says warily. “You do sex very well… on screen, I mean.” “Uhuh.” She looks away. “There’s no sex in this movie,” she says of What Maisie Knew. “I know. I’m talking about your career in general.” Silence. “Is that a bad thing to say?” I ask. “Well, it’s a little prurient maybe.” I’m just interested, I say. It’s unusual for an actor to seem so natural, relaxed, in sex scenes. “So many seem impersonal and unbelievable, but you look as if you enjoy them.” It’s meant as a compliment, but it doesn’t come out right. “No. No one enjoys them. It’s never comfortable. It’s something that you do with a great director, with another actor’s help, it’s a simulation. It’s not anything other than that.” In the past, Moore has said most of her films are made for adults, and she’s glad her children are too young to see them. But it won’t be long before Cal can watch movies such as Short Cuts and Boogie Nights. How does she feel about that? “I doubt he will be interested,” she says dismissively. “You have to remember children are not usually very interested in what their parents do for a living.” But they are great movies. Why wouldn’t he want to watch them? She looks horrified, as if processing for the first time the idea that her work is available for public consumption. “There are lots of great movies. They don’t have to watch something their mother’s in. I don’t want them to watch my movies. I don’t want them to see me as an actor, ever. I only want them to see me as their mother. That’s the only relationship I’m interested in having with them. And I think that’s
the only relationship they’re interested in having with me.” I say it’s great she’s still making films about women who are sexual, when women over 50 are so often banished from the bedroom in movies. “OK,” she says. It’s obvious she’s finding the conversation excruciating. “Can we talk about something else now?” She laughs, desperately. I ask if she is political. “I think everybody’s political. The act of being alive is political. Unless you choose to be a hermit, you’re automatically political, because you’re part of a community.” How would she describe her politics? “I would say I’m pretty liberal.” Socialist? “Yeah, yeah. It’s difficult in an economy like ours to call yourself a socialist, because we’re living in a capitalist society where we all benefit from that. But in terms of where we are going politically, a lot of people would like to see a more equitable distribution. I’d like to see that. What is happening now, and in the UK, where the middle part of the economic strata is getting smaller and smaller, that’s not the way most of us grew up. I don’t understand how it happened so suddenly; why the upper echelons of society have flourished while other people suffer.” She waves at a passing car. “I think that’s my friend. I know it is because we sold them our car.” She’s still thinking about playing women teetering on the edge. You know, she says, even that goes back to her parents and how they’d get home from work and discuss the people they had dealt with that day. “My mother was a psychiatric social worker and my father worked in the judicial system, so that was the topic of conversation at dinner time: what somebody did and why. There was always a lot of discussion about behaviour and that’s what I’m drawn to, real stories and people. I’m not as interested in fantasy or adventure.” Does she consider herself a risk-taker artistically? “No, you’re only brave in the face of something you’re afraid of, and I’m not afraid of stories, of emotion, of people. So I don’t feel it’s risky. I feel it’s an exploration of something human.”
Moore has been nominated for four Academy awards and not won one. Does that bother her? “Oh, of course I care.” Last year she starred as Republican Sarah Palin in Game Change, an HBO TV film. “I won a bunch of stuff for that, and it always feels more fun to win. But at the end of the day, yes, I love to win, but I like having a job more.” Which role most deserved an Oscar? “Oh no, I can’t answer that. Nooooooh!” I tell her my vote might go to Far From Heaven. “Oh, I love that movie. And it was meaningful for me, because Todd wrote it for me, and I was pregnant with my daughter, so it was a really nice time. I love it.” If she can’t tell me her favourite film, what about her worst? “I’m never going to say that,” she says. But a second later she does. “Next is pretty bad.” What’s that about? “It’s about nothing. It’s about two hours long! I think I’m an FBI agent in it.” Which of Moore’s films did her mum like most? She smiles, and tells me about the TV soap opera she was in at the start of her career. “At the time it infuriated me, but what she really cared about was seeing me as often as possible. So when I was on television, that was probably her favourite, because she could see me all the time. I found that very tedious, of course, I was like, ach, don’t you even notice what I’m doing?” Now, she says, she absolutely understands why her mother loved the soap. At 52, she reckons she has a much better grasp of what matters than she did when she was in her 20s. Back then, she just worked and obsessed about her career. “I do think the one thing ageing allows you is to go, ‘Well, I know what I like, I know what I don’t like.’ And I don’t think even 20 years ago I understood that. Certainly not 30 years ago. I didn’t invest in my personal life at the time. I didn’t know myself or spend any time trying to figure myself out. It takes a long time to figure out what you care about.” Could she summarise in a sentence what that is? There’s only one thing that truly matters, she says: family. “All I really care about is staying alive for as long as possible for my children. I don’t want them to have to experience loss.” www.folk.com.br
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larraín
CRÍTICA
por
gael Marcelo Hessel
clile fotos
pinochet de
Antônio Bragança
Pablo Larraín fecha sua trilogia sobre Pinochet questionando as ilusões do consumismo com Gael García Bernal no papel principal. Folk.
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Pablo Larraín e Gael García Bernal em ensaio fotográfico para a Folk.
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p raticamente toda a América Latina teve seu período de ditadura militar no período das décadas de ‘60-’70. A do Chile, apesar de ter sido a mais longa, foi a menos abordada em filmes (me lembro somente de Desaparecido, de Costa Gavras). O Brasil e a Argentina, principalmente, produziram muitos filmes sobre esse período histórico, mostrando de forma sutil ou não os bastidores das ditaduras militares, com seus torturados e desaparecidos, em filmes hoje clássicos como Pra Frente, Brasil e A História Oficial. A originalidade do filme do diretor Larraín vem exatamente de sua abordagem específica em relação à batalha publicitária que ocorreu à época do plebiscito pela manutenção ou não do governo Pinochet no Chile, na década de ‘80. Os horrores da ditadura militar, com suas inúmeras vítimas, são apenas mencionados, sem uma abordagem dramática, porque o foco do filme são os preparativos, os desdobramentos, a realização e o resultado do plebiscito. Filho de um exilado político e há pouco tempo de volta ao Chile, o publicitário René Saavedra, interpretado por Gael García Bernal, é convocado pelos partidos de oposição para organizar e liderar a campanha televisiva buscando convencer a população a votar pelo “não”. Suas ideias, essencialmente herdadas pelo mundo comercial, onde está inseriFolk.
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do, entram em choque num primeiro momento com a herança das feridas ainda não curadas daqueles que viveram de verdade os “anos de chumbo” da ditadura. É bastante original e bem-executada a montagem entre as cenas reais do material produzido à época (entrevistas, programas e campanhas de TV) e a reprodução encenada pelo filme. Aliás, o filme mergulhou de cabeça na reconstituição da época, a ponto de ter sido filmado no formato quadrado típico da televisão - e não no widescreen do cinema - além de optar por uma imagem propositalmente sem a qualidade “limpa” do cinema, parecendo quase um documentário rodado à época dos acontecimentos retratados no filme. O filme consegue ser simples e perfeitamente compreensível até para quem desconhece o momento histórico retratado (por isso, o subtítulo brasileiro - Adeus Sr. Pinochet - ajuda bastante a elucidar do que o filme se trata). Ao mesmo tempo não é simplista em sua abordagem, quando retrata a complexidade social e política com que o publicitário terá de lidar ao levar adiante sua visão propagandística, otimista e por vezes superficial demais para um resultado que mudaria para sempre os rumos do país. No - Adeus, Sr. Pinochet é um triunfo do cinema latino-americano, merecedor dos elogios e prêmios que angariou (além da indicação ao Oscar de Melhor Filme Estrangeiro este ano, o filme foi um dos 10 filmes de língua não-inglesa mais visto nos Estados Unidos na temporada 2012-2013). “Este comercial está inserido em um contexto social. Hoje o Chile é um país que pensa no futuro”, diz o publicitário antes de apresentar uma peça a seu cliente, um fabricante de refrigerante. Conhecemos o discurso, esperamos o cinismo, mas que carade-pau de René: o Chile neoliberal de Augusto Pinochet só pensa no agora, e não no futuro, porque afinal é o imediatismo que faz do capitalismo o que ele é.
Pablo Larraín e o símbolo da campanha do“não”, o arco-íris.
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christa
ENTREVISTA
por
théret, Luísa Pécora
fragilidade & melancolia fotos
Sophie Wäsche
de
Carlos Panucchio
Em entrevista esclusiva à Folk., a atriz em cartaz com Renoir conta sobre sua recente tragetória no cinema e seus anseios para o futuro. Folk.
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Christa ThĂŠret em ensaio fotogrĂĄfico para a Folk.
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1 anos, mas as falas são com a prudência de alguém mais experiente. Christa Théret parece determinada a não se deixar levar pelo elogios da indústria e da crítica, que agregam ao seu nome títulos como “promessa” e “nova musa”. “O cinema francês é um Don Juan, um Casanova”, define, em entrevista a Folk. “Hoje tem uma musa, amanhã vai ser outra.” Filha de um pintor e de uma modelo, Théret nasceu em Paris e começou a carreira aos 11 anos, como a filha de José Garcia em “O Corte”, de Costa-Gravas. Aos 15, deixou a escola para se dedicar ao cinema e foi indicada ao prêmio César de atriz mais promissora em 2008 por “Rindo à Toa”, de Liza Azuelos.
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A movimentada carreira colocou a francesa na lista de “shooting stars” do Festival de Berlim de 2013, dedicada a celebrar jovens talentos. “Ela é uma atriz muito precisa, capaz de ir longe e evitar a armadilha fácil de atuar com excesso de sentimentalismo”, diz a justificativa do júri. “Oferece um misto de fragilidade, melancolia e carisma.” São elogios que a jovem tenta encarar com os pés no chão. “Por um lado é muito estimulante, pois percebo que estou sendo vista. Por outro, preciso tomar cuidado. Já vi jovens atrizes com carreiras promissoras desaparecerem em dez anos.” “É um mercado muito duro. Nunca sabemos o que será no dia seguinte, se vamos ter outro filme. O ator não é como um médico ou administrador que está sempre avançando. Nós começamos do zero a cada trabalho”, completa. Os dois filmes mais recentes de Théret demostram sua preferência por dramas e o gosto por histórias ambientadas no passado. Em “O Homem que Ri”, uma adaptação da obra de Victor Hugo, Christa interpreta Déa, garota cega e órfã cujo irmão, Gwynplaine (Marc-André Grondin) parece estar sempre sorrindo por causa de uma cicatriz no rosto. Em “Renoir”, dá vida a uma personagem real, Catherine Hessling, última modelo do pintor impressionista Pierre-Auguste Renoir e primeira atriz dos filmes de seu filho, o cineasta Jean Renoir. O longa exigiu difíceis cenas de nudez, que Théret tentou convencer o diretor Gilles Bourdos a retirar do roteiro. “Ele me explicou que era
o ator não é como um médico ou administrador que está sempre avançando. nós começamos do zero a cada trabalho.
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“O cinema francês é um Don Juan”, cita Christa.
impossível, porque Renoir é carne e corpo, e me mostrou que o contexto não era sexual. Havia um erotismo, mas abstrato. Acho que ficou muito bom”, diz. Fã de Quentin Tarantino, a atriz tem vontade de seguir os passos de conterrâneas como Juliete Binoche,
Charlotte Gainsbourg e Léa Seydoux, que se dividem entre filmes franceses e os produzidos em Hollywood. Com pouco conhecimento sobre o cinema brasileiro, Christa espera que festivais ampliem o público dos filmes franceses no Brasil. “Além de os americanos pegarem a maior parte
do mercado, ainda há muita gente que acha que o cinema francês parou na nouvelle vague (movimento artístico que inclui diretores como Jean-Luc Godard, François Truffaut e Alain Resnais)”, afirma. “Há muitas outras fases que não ficam limitadas à intelectualidade.”
CONCURSO DE FOTOGRAFIA
NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC 2013 acesse o site w w w.nationalgeographic.com
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