Wednesday, October 31, 2007

From The Times
October 30, 2007


Women want to talk about it, but men are more likely to retreat into stoney silence. Our correspondent investigates the science behind how we argue

In Gapun, a remote village on the Sepik River in Papua New Guinea, the women take a robust approach to arguing. In her pithy new book The Myth of Mars and Venus, Deborah Cameron reports an anthropologist’s account of a dispute between a husband and wife that ensued after the woman fell through a hole in the rotten floor of their home and she blamed him for shoddy workmanship. He hit her with a piece of sugar cane, an unwise move that led her to threaten to slice him up with a machete and burn the home to the ground.

At this point he deemed it prudent to leave and she launched into a kros – a traditional angry tirade directed at a husband with the intention of it being heard by everyone in the village. The fury can last for up to 45 minutes, during which time the husband is expected to keep quiet. This particular kros went along these lines: “You’re a f****** rubbish man. You hear? Your f****** prick is full of maggots. Stone balls! F****** black prick! F****** grandfather prick! You have built me a good house that I just fall down in, you get up and hit me on the arm with a piece of sugar cane! You f****** mother’s ****!”

Such a domestic scene may be familiar to some readers, but for most of us arguing with our partners is not quite such an explosive business; except, perhaps, when discussing who is most responsible for a navigational hiccup on the way to lunch at the home of an old flame of our partner’s, or getting to the bottom of who left the ****** ******* cap off the **** ******* toothpaste for the third ****** ******* time this ****** ******* week.

Human beings argue about everything from adultery to Zionism and we do so in different styles, whether we are submissive, passive, aggressive, abusive, abusive-passive, aggressive-abusive, submissive-aggressive or submissive-passive-aggressive-abusive.

But are there any broad differences between the sexes in the way that we argue? US research into marital stress on the heart has thrown up an intriguing finding about the way some are prone to “self-silencing” during arguments. The research by Elaine D. Eaker, published in Psychosomatic Medicine, found that more men than women had a tendency to bottle up their feelings during confrontations with their partners.

Tim Smith is a psychology professor at the University of Utah, whose own research has found indications that women’s heart health is affected adversely by quarrels and men’s when they feel they are losing control. There are clear indications, he says, that it is a male tactic to withdraw from arguments. “Women, on average, are more often in the role of the managers of relationship matters. They are often in the position of bringing up and pursuing things they would like to change. This is seen in wives making a request and pursuing it and husbands withdrawing and pulling back. The more of it a couple displays the weaker their relationship future is.”

John Gray, whose Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus is one of the most successful self-help books of all time, explains this male withdrawal process thus: “To avoid confrontation Martians may retire into their caves and never come out. This is like a cold war. They refuse to talk and nothing gets resolved.” He says that it is “passive aggressive behaviour” and Martians are “afraid of confrontation and would rather lie low and avoid talking about any topics that may cause an argument”.

Edward, 37, a freelance writer, says he is a practitioner of the withdrawal method. “I’m useless at arguing. I have things that bother me but when I finally say something I am too slow to win the argument. I’ll make an accusation about what I know is a pattern of behaviour that is hurtful for me. But then I’ll get asked to come up with examples and I’ll freeze. I don’t recall them. I can only launch in when I have all the evidence to back up my argument ready to use. I suppose I’m too lazy to do that. I think women, on the whole, are more practised at arguing, or more interested.”

Gray’s thesis is that the differences and disagreements between men and women don’t hurt so much as the ways in which we communicate them. “Most couples start out arguing about one thing and within five minutes are arguing about the way they are arguing.” The pattern he identifies involves a woman raising an issue, often asking rhetorical questions rather than being direct. The man, rightly or wrongly, hears disapproval. Men, according to Gray, are in great need of approval.

Feeling challenged, the man becomes focused on being right and forgets to be loving. The woman then becomes upset by his unloving delivery and defends herself from his sharpened expressions. Her tone becomes mistrusting and rejecting. Gray says that we need to remember that our partner objects not to what we are saying but how we are saying it.

“Most arguments escalate when a man begins to invalidate a woman’s feelings and she responds to him disapprovingly.” When a woman shares her frustration men go on the defensive. “Every cell in a man’s body reacts with a list of explanations and justifications designed to explain away her upset feelings.”

Christine Northam, a counsellor with Relate, the marriage-counselling service, points to An Introduction to Family Therapy, by R. Dallos and R. Draper, which cautions that “despite these differences between men and women, especially in the supposed concern that women have with feelings, analysis of everyday conversations does little to bear this out.”

But Northam adds that in her experience of many years of helping couples, the way men and women have been conditioned affects the way that they argue and that it true that men have a greater tendency to withdraw. One popular phrase among psychologists is “the distancer and the pursuer”, says Northam. “One of you wants to sort it and the other one backs off: ‘I will shut down and I won’t deal with you.’ That does lead to a lot of tension in the relationship and you end up not addressing what you need to be talking about.

“I do talk with men who find it very, very difficult to engage with their feelings. Women say: ‘He won’t respond to me, he won’t listen, he thinks he’s right all the time.’ Men have been socialised to think that they know what they are talking about. I know it’s changing, it’s really changing a lot. But that’s still around: ‘Men are powerful and what I say goes.’ Women internalise that too. It’s not just the blokes. Women get very frustrated, hysterical, when trying to get their point across because it seems that it just falls on the dead ground all the time. What they are saying is not being picked up and acknowledged and dealt with.

“Certainly the younger men that I see tend to be much more willing to engage with their feelings, keen to understand them and talk about them. Older men find it slightly trickier or more than slightly trickier.”

She adds that women are also capable of the withdrawal technique. “Oh yes, women are quite powerful at doing that as well. They change the subject or rubbish it or cry. Crying is a good one and then the poor man says: ‘Oh my god, she’s in tears’.”

We all recognise that scenario. “I don’t argue a lot but I do cry a lot,” says Sarah, 32, an advertising executive. “I’ll say something harsh to him and he’ll say something probably only equally harsh back and then I’ll be in floods of tears. I call my friend and she says: ‘Where are you?’ ‘In the loo.’ And then when I finally come out after half an hour he’s just watching TV as if nothing has happened.”

Christine Northam says that another major difference between the way men and women argue is that “men tend to resort to aggression very quickly, whereas women are more manipulative and try and present a problem and go on and on about it rather than being succinct. Men get angry and feel defensive and shameful very quickly, then they get aggressive. In the worst-case scenario they get violent. Men tend to probably become more aggressive more quickly overall — but not every time by any means.

“Aggression I would say is more easy to recognise when blokes are arguing. Men want to be more powerful. All couple disagreements are about power and control: who’s going to come out on the top. You have to be ever so grown up to start negotiating and that’s what couple counselling is about — helping to negotiate instead of arguing all the time.”

She says that men are also more prone to decline to take their partner’s concerns seriously. “They say: ‘She’s going on again. Oh, here we go.’ They tend to trivialise. I’m afraid it goes back to our patterning; the stereotypical stuff we have all been fed. We are very much influenced by the way our parents were or even our grandparents. We all like to think we are terribly different but we are not. It stays inside you and so the way you do emotions is learnt in your family. To look at them, understand them and then make a conscious decision that you will do it differently is very grown up.”

Deborah Cameron, the Rupert Murdoch Professor of Language and Communication at the University of Oxford, believes that the differences between the way men and women argue are overstated. “The idea that men and women differ fundamentally in the way they use language to communicate is a myth,” she says. She is sceptical of research that examines what people say in staged situations, or that relies on people to report on their own relationships. “I do not believe research based on questions about how people argue that require them to be better observers than almost all people are of their own linguistic behaviour.”

Even if people were to be wired up and recorded over a long time to capture spontaneous arguments, it is hard to draw conclusions about differences between the sexes, she says, because people argue differently in different cultures and situations, as her account of the approach of the women of New Guinea suggests. “It depends which men and women you observe,” she says. The idea that there is no difference between the arguing styles of a woman in the West, her granny and a woman in a tribal village in Africa is “absolute rubbish”.

“You can’t generalise about men and women. Cultural differences are much bigger than gender differences. You need to specify what culture and what community within that culture.” She is scathing of John Gray’s work, which she says “ignores the difference that context and subject matter make, and is massively generalised and exaggerated”.

She says that “it is intriguing to people that there are differences, but people use it as a prop”. But while Cameron is probably right that it is extremely hard to prove in a scientific way that there are differences between men and women in the way that they argue, it is also unlikely that anyone will ever be able to show conclusively that there are no differences. So as long as men and women are still arguing, researchers and writers and psychobabblers will continue to argue about how they are arguing.

And on that note I am going to withdraw from this particular discussion.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

The Counterfeiters


Philip French
Sunday October 14, 2007
The Guardian


The grim German movie The Counterfeiters , written and directed by Stefan Ruzowitzky, opens intriguingly in a bleak, rundown Monte Carlo days after the end of the Second World War. A weary, poorly dressed man carrying a small case full of money books into a smart hotel. He has a new suit of clothes made, goes in a dinner jacket to the casino, plays recklessly and picks up a high-priced whore. While having sex, she is shocked to see a concentration camp number tattooed on his arm. Why is he here and apparently bent on losing? The answer is given in flashback form, starting in 1936.

The antihero is Salomon Sorowitsch (Karl Markovics), a Russian Jew celebrated in the underworld as a master forger. Arrested in 1936 by Inspector Herzog, head of the Berlin CID fraud squad, by 1939 he is in the dreadful Mauthausen camp in Austria, wearing the green triangle as a habitual criminal and the yellow star as a Jew. His skills making sketches and portraits of guards and propagandistic murals bring him special privileges.
Then in 1944, he's moved to the Sachsenhausen camp north of Berlin, where, appropriately, his prewar nemesis Herzog is in charge of a top-secret forgery unit. Their principal task is to produce vast quantities of pounds and dollars as a way of financing the war and undermining the British and American economies.

This is a fictionalised version of a true story not unlike that of Eddie Chapman, the British criminal released from jail in the occupied Channel Islands on condition that he became a Nazi spy. A respectable Jewish banker from Hamburg brought in for his professional skills despises Salomon as a professional criminal, while a communist master printer from the Resistance views him with contempt for his determination to survive.

Salomon and his fellow inmates are faced with a choice. They can collaborate, thus helping the German war effort, they can refuse and be shot, or they can compromise, walking a tightrope of subtle prevarication. When the Germans quit Sachsenhausen, the moderately privileged forgers must justify themselves before the ill-treated, emaciated prisoners from the rest of the camp. This is a fascinating, low-key movie about moral choices and life-and-death decisions made in terrible conditions. Few will emerge from it without considerable respect for its antihero and without asking how they themselves would have acted.


The bitterest pill


German film-makers are now daring to tackle the Third Reich and the Holocaust. Can they portray the reality, or must history be sweetened? Jonathan Freedland reports

Friday October 12, 2007
The Guardian


Draw up a list of the major films dealing in the history of the Third Reich, and especially the Holocaust, and a striking fact emerges: none of them is German. Schindler's List was American; Claude Lanzmann's nine-hour masterpiece, Shoah, along with Alain Resnais's Night and Fog, were both French. Roman Polanski's The Pianist had a Polish director, British screenwriter and American star. Whether documentary or drama, The Diary of Anne Frank or The Pawnbroker, Holocaust movies have come out of every place but Nazism's country of origin. On the subject that lies at the heart of contemporary German history, mainstream German cinema has remained all but silent.

Now, though, there is a change. The release of The Counterfeiters, a dramatised account of Operation Bernhard - the plot to flood Britain and the US with forged pound notes and dollar bills, perfectly faked by a squad of mainly Jewish artists, printers and crooks imprisoned in the Sachsenhausen concentration camp - marks something of a shift. Along with 2005's Downfall, the meticulous study of the last days of Adolf Hitler, holed up in his Berlin bunker, it suggests Germany's film-makers are at last offering an international audience their own interpretation of the events that have shaped them.
And it's not only movies depicting the catastrophe of the 1940s that are gaining worldwide attention. Last year's Academy award for best foreign film went to The Lives of Others, a gripping tale of an East German Stasi agent who eavesdrops on a dissident playwright, his cold, authoritarian heart eventually melted by what he hears. Earlier, foreign audiences had embraced a very different look at the now-vanished German Democratic Republic: the comedy Good Bye Lenin!, in which a young man is forced to maintain the illusion that the Berlin Wall never fell, at least inside the apartment he shares with his mother, who has slept through the great upheaval of 1989 thanks to an eight-month coma.

Cinephiles admire this clutch of new films as evidence of a welcome resurgence in German cinema. But there's more at work here than a boom in German movie-making. In their examination of the consecutive tyrannies that arose in the country, they also afford a glimpse of how Germans currently see their history - and themselves.

Both Downfall and The Counterfeiters suggest a watershed has been reached, part of it simply chronological. "Those old enough to remember those events directly are no longer part of the cinema audience," says the Frankfurt-based writer and publisher, Dr Cordelia Borchardt. "For most of those watching, Hitler is a figure from ancient history. It's less of a taboo." That, she suggests, has freed up film-makers to enter terrain previously considered too sensitive, to tell Germany's darkest stories. "This is about accepting as our own heritage what for so long has been left to others. We dare do it now."

The results are powerful. Karl Markovics's central performance as the Jewish master-forger Salomon Sorowitsch in The Counterfeiters is grimly haunting. The humiliation he undergoes when a Nazi officer casually urinates on him is a scene that lingers in the memory, as is the image of a fellow Jewish inmate processing discarded passports only to chance upon the documents of his own children, both murdered in Auschwitz. The film also lays bare the terrible dilemma that confronted those forced to work for the Nazis. The tension in the story turns on the figure of Adolf Burger - now aged 89 and on whose memoir the film was based - who is determined to sabotage the dollar operation, even at the risk of his own life and those of his fellow inmates, rather than help the Nazi war effort. Similarly, Downfall's evocation of the claustrophobia and delusional madness that engulfed the Führerbunker is flawless.

And yet one senses a subtle form of evasion in both films. "Welcome to the gilded cage," a veteran prisoner tells Salomon when he arrives at the section of Sachsenhausen cleared for Operation Bernhard. The captives are well-fed, sleeping on beds with real sheets and blankets - conditions utterly unlike those elsewhere in Sachsenhausen or in any other concentration camp. More importantly, they are ruled over by an SS officer who is venal, but not murderous. Now, this exceptional situation at least provides The Counterfeiters with a way around the perennial obstacle confronting all films about the Holocaust, namely how to portray the unportrayable (clearly no actors can ever be as bone-thin, as starved, as the camps' real victims). And, to its credit, it repeatedly reminds the audience that what it is witnessing is atypically moderate by Nazi standards. Characters say as much explicitly - "We have it so good in here, while out there ... " - and occasionally reality intrudes. At one point a bullet, fired in an execution in Sachsenhausen proper, pierces the wall of the forgers' enclave.

But that only emphasises the point that the real action, the real horror, is underway on the other side of the wall. The same was true of Roman Polanski's The Pianist, which followed a lone man who escaped the fate visited on every other Jewish inhabitant of the Warsaw ghetto. The cinematic logic for these choices is wholly understandable, but it means that ultimately these films avoid the harshest truths. What we see in The Counterfeiters is, ultimately, a criminal conspiracy rather than a genocidal one. It is showing a corner of the calamity of the Final Solution, but it avoids the vast, looming bulk of it.

Downfall can be viewed the same way. Borchardt remembers her discomfort seeing the film for the first time: its relentless focus "on a few senior Nazis, as if that was the only thing that mattered". The film does depict the destruction of Berlin, and we see the loss of civilian life, but it is true that the key action is behind the reinforced, underground walls of Hitler's bunker. The full horror of that period remains unglimpsed, even unmentioned until a sentence flashed on screen before the end credits, reminding us that 50 million people were killed in the second world war.

There are other concerns at work too. The obvious criticism of Downfall was that it humanised Hitler: Bruno Ganz's Führer is gently solicitous towards his secretaries, kind to his dog and stoic, even brave, when making plans for his own death. (He is also shown hunched, palsied and flying into delusional rages as he orders imaginary armies into battle.) But the truth is that Hitler was a human being, rather than a mythic monster, and the film forces us to confront that much more uncomfortable fact.

Downfall does, nevertheless, surrender to another common, if understandable, need: to find a "good German" in amongst all the evil. We see an SS medic, frantically scouring Berlin, seeking out the wounded and vulnerable. But it also works more broadly, leaving the viewer with the sense that the Nazis were a small ruling cabal, while the rest of the German people were its victims. Even Albert Speer, Hitler's architect, is presented benignly, pleading with the Führer to surrender, so saving Germany's cities and its people. Again, the film seems aware of the message it might be conveying and takes steps to correct it. "The German people chose their fate," says one character. "They gave us a mandate." The trouble is, the character saying these words - allowed to articulate the view made famous by Daniel Goldhagen's book, Hitler's Willing Executioners - is none other than Josef Goebbels, a somewhat tainted source.

The context is very different, but a similar dynamic might be at work in the recent movies about the East German experience too. When it comes to evading the full harshness of the past, few movies could touch Good Bye Lenin!. Its GDR is a place whose chief crimes appear to be drabness, naff brands and terrible clothes - with the oppression of state authoritarianism barely hinted at. It is an exquisite example of what became known as "Ostalgia", nostalgia for the Ost, the old East. The film is full of affection for a little country that for 40 years was a socialist holdout against the tide of capitalist consumerism. It is touching, teaching that no people should ever be expected fully, and so rapidly, to despise its own past. But it is a hardly a clear-eyed contemplation of the historical record.

The Lives of Others was hailed as an antidote to Ostalgia, with its fierce gaze on the work of the Stasi, but it too is, however subtly, guilty of some quiet evasions. Ultimately, its Stasi officer is a good man - a good German - who does the right thing. Yet historians concede there were all too few, if any, such cases: two disaffected officers were executed, one in 1979, another in 1981, but the film's hero is different. He gets away with his act of rebellion.

This is not to carp. Each one of these films is outstanding, richly deserving of international attention. They are good, reflective contemplations of the German past which, in turn, reflect well on the society that produced them. But they also hint at what may be a universal truth: that when it comes to its own history, there is only so much reality any nation can bear.
London Film Festival

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When bad news is nothing but good


Halle Berry and John Cusack have the Oscars in their sights, David Lynch says farewell to film, and Clint turns in a top tune

Jason Solomons
Sunday October 28, 2007
The Observer


Over the past few years London's film festival has made a habit of hosting prospective Oscar nominees. This year was no exception as two Hollywood stars blossomed into award contenders - Halle Berry, back to her best in Things We Lost in the Fire, and John Cusack in Grace Iis Gone. Both actors are now 41 and have been popular for nearly two decades. They are both flourishing playing characters who initially deny, then deal with, grief over the premature loss of a spouse. Berry, of course, won an Oscar for playing another widow in Monster's Ball in 2002 but she has been trapped in a succession of rotten roles ever since.

Berry is exquisite in Susanne Bier's delicate drama, playing a mother of two in suburban Seattle, numbed after the random shooting of her husband (David Duchovny). As she recovers she strikes up a friendship with her husband's best friend, a recovering heroin addict played with bruised charisma by the superb Benicio del Toro. As in her Danish films such as Open Hearts and After the Wedding, Bier's Hollywood debut concentrates on little twists of fate, tiny glitches in the cosmos, the family drama here occasionally flitting back in time to allow the audience to piece together fragments of emotion. It's to the immense credit of the director and her actors that melodrama is avoided in this tasteful, mournful interpretation of Allan Loeb's script.
Cusack has more of a familiar screen persona to shed than Berry as he takes on the most serious role of his career in Grace is Gone, playing a patriotic father of two young girls whose wife is killed on a tour of duty in Iraq.

Both actors get their big moment coping with the bad news - Berry's is delivered by two policemen, Cusack's by the dreaded visit from two servicemen, and it sends him into a paralysis of denial, so much so that to avoid telling his children the truth he whisks the girls out of school and on to a long road trip from their midwestern home to a Florida amusement park called the Enchanted Garden. Cusack gives his character a silly, pigeon-toed walk and some other over-acted mannerisms, but this simple, downbeat film written and directed by James C Strouse provides him with his finest role and features a marvellous performance from debutante Shelan O'Keefe as his 12-year-old daughter.

The fog of war spreads over London this festival. Nick Broomfield's Battle for Haditha is perhaps the most intriguing contribution, re-enacting a terrible episode in which US marines exact revenge for a terrorist bombing in an Iraqi town by opening fire on a room full of women and children. It's amazing drama, of course, but perhaps most interesting is the question of whether it's true or not. I have no way of telling, and I think that Broomfield, for so long a documentarist, knows this as he embarks on a new form of dramatic reconstruction cinema.

Robert Redford's Lions for Lambs brought Tom Cruise to Leicester Square and, although widely derided, provided a gripping debate on the subject of the current 'war on terror'. Unfussily directed by Redford, its very simplicity is its virtue, letting the script's ideas come to the fore.

The familiar war in Brazilian cinema is one with favela drug lords, and it is thrillingly explored in City of Men, director Paulo Morelli's follow-up to Fernando Mereilles's City of God. It focuses on two 18-year-olds trying to break out of the ghetto's cycle of guns and violence and face responsibilities as young adults.

Morelli takes in big themes of social pressure and fatherhood while creating a dizzying sensory canvas of Rio slum life, full of colours, samba rhythms and gang warfare. I felt its honesty and positive energy were refreshing in a predominantly gloomy festival.

The cat's whispers

Was Halle Berry joking when she said there was a possibility of Catwoman returning? Radiant in her Versace gown, pregnant Berry told the audience after her Leicester Square screening that she and her Things We Lost in the Fire director Susanne Bier had been discussing reviving her widely-panned role. 'She'd do a lot better job of it than the last time round,' said Berry. At a post-screening reception for the film at Mint Leaf restaurant, I asked the director if they were serious. 'It's true we would like to work together again and I did suggest Catwoman to her. It would be very different, more feminist, but I think we could pull it off, so don't count it out.' We won't.

In tune with Oscar

I've heard a song you'll be hearing on Oscar night. Jamie Cullum sings it and Clint Eastwood wrote it and it's the title track of Grace is Gone, a powerful, bluesy ballad, delivered with gusto, and playing over the final credits to the film. 'It's as if you can hear Clint in the notes as he [Cullum] plays this beautiful, haunting theme,' the film's star, John Cusack, told me. 'It's a blessing for our film.'

Digital Lynch

David Lynch has admitted for the first time that he will never return to traditional cinema. The cult American director of such diverse films as Eraserhead, The Elephant Man, Blue Velvet and The Straight Story told me: 'I'm never going back to 35mm cameras, never, never.' Lynch, who was visiting the LFF to promote the benefits of transcendental meditation with his pal Donovan, used digital technology for his last film, Inland Empire - starring Laura Dern, Jeremy Irons and Naomi Watts in a bunny suit - which had trouble finding audiences outside his most loyal fans. Despite that film's rough ride, he remained unbowed and declared traditional cinema techniques to be dead, a statement that will shock his many admirers. 'Film has had its day and you could do interesting, beautiful things with it, but digital is the new thing. It's much better, way better for the scenes and every aspect of the story you're telling,' he said. 'Aesthetically you can do so much more with it and more plug-ins are coming along all the time.'

Lynch, who was the subject of the annual David Lean talk at Bafta last night, said he hadn't yet come up with the idea for a new film but that the muse could strike at any moment. 'We're getting to the stage with digital that if you can think it, you can do it. And I meditate twice a day - haven't missed one session in 34 years - and believe me, the ideas come at any time.' With typical humour he added: 'And these days, the ideas come digitally.'

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Once

Copyright © 2007 Fox Searchlight Pictures
Once

A modern day musical set on the streets of Dublin. Featuring Glen Hansard and his Irish band “The Frames,” the film tells the story of a street musician and a Czech immigrant during an eventful week as they write, rehearse and record songs that reveal their unique love story.

Trailer A (2:09)
Drama
Rating: R
In Theatres: May 16th, 2007

John Carney (dir.)
Glen Hansard
Marketa Irglova








http://www.apple.com/trailers/fox_searchlight/once/trailera/



Sunday, October 07, 2007

http://www.literatura.us/vallejo/trilce.html

XIII

Pienso en tu sexo.
Simplificado el corazón, pienso en tu sexo,
ante el hijar maduro del día.
Palpo el botón de dicha, está en sazón.
Y muere un sentimiento antiguo
degenerado en seso.

Pienso en tu sexo, surco más prolífico
y armonioso que el vientre de la Sombra,
aunque la Muerte concibe y pare
de Dios mismo.
Oh Conciencia,
pienso, sí, en el bruto libre
que goza donde quiere, donde puede.

Oh, escándalo de miel de los crepúsculos.
Oh estruendo mudo.

Odumodneurtse!



... un portento de MUJER.


Copyright © 2007 Sony Pictures Classics

Jimmy Carter: Man From Plains

http://www.apple.com/trailers/sony/jimmycartermanfromplains/


Jimmy Carter: Man From Plains

Jimmy Carter Man From Plains is an intimate, surprising encounter withPresident Jimmy Carter. Following the path of Mr. Carter’s recentcontroversial book tour for Palestine Peace Not Apartheid, AcademyAward©-winning director Jonathan Demme reveals a complex individual who,with the gusto and determination of a youngster, criss-crosses the countryto get his message across, even as that message creates a media onslaughtin which his credibility and judgment are called into question. JimmyCarter Man From Plains explores both the private and public sides of JimmyCarter, whose intense sense of justice compels him to pursue, withundiminished energy and hope, his lifelong and deeply spiritual vision ofreconciliation and peace.

Trailer (2:15)
Documentary
Rating: Not yet rated
In Theatres: October 26th, 2007

Jonathan Demme (dir.)
Jimmy Carter
Roslyn Carter





... PowerPLAY.