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CINERAMA

CRÍTICA E OPINIÃO SOBRE CINEMA

CINERAMA

CRÍTICA E OPINIÃO SOBRE CINEMA

Breakfast on Pluto ***

07.04.06, Rita

Realização: Neil Jordan. Elenco: Cillian Murphy, Liam Neeson, Ruth Negga, Laurence Kinlan, Stephen Rea, Brendan Gleeson. Nacionalidade: Irlanda / Reino Unido, 2005.





Depois de “The Butcher Boy” (1997), Neil Jordan adapta novamente um romance de Pat McCabe, desta feita contando a história de Patrick ‘Kitten’ Braden, na Irlanda/Londres dos anos 70, em plena convulsão social (à semelhança de “The Crying Game”, 1992, mistura também as questões de identidade sexual).


“Breakfast on Pluto” é um conto de fadas que começa com um par de melros a conversar enquanto debicam o leite poisado do lado de fora da porta.


Deixado à porta da casa de um padre na aldeia irlandesa de Tyreelin, Patrick (Cillian Murphy) é criado por uma mãe adoptiva Ma Braden (Ruth McCabe) que nunca compreendeu o seu gosto por roupas femininas. No final da adolescência, Patrick - já sob o nome de Kitten - parte para Londres em busca da mãe (Eva Birthistle), da qual pouco mais sabe do que as suas parecenças com a actriz Mitzi Gaynor. Na estrada, Kitten conhece uma banda chamada "The Mohawks" e apaixona-se perdidamente pelo vocalista Billy Hatchet (a estrela de rock britânica Gavin Friday). Este primeiro amor, tal como todos os outros, serão apenas um reflexo do que Kitten quer para si própria: ser amada exactamente como nas canções pop, mais concretamente como em “Honey” de Bobby Goldsboro (o título “Breakfast on Pluto” provém da canção “King of the London Buskers”de Don Partridge).


Kitten é ingénua e pura, seduzindo pela sua vulnerabilidade e tornando irresistível querer protegê-la. Os olhos penetrantes de Cillian Murphy também ajudam. Sem se importar se vive ou morre, Kitten acaba por viver uma vida de liberdade, tornando-se até assistente de mágico (Stephen Rea). Mas, mesmo apesar de todos os contratempos, alguns deles bastante violentos, Kitten mostra-se invencível. E nesta sobreposição do pessoal e do político, Kitten mostra-se inabalável, quer na sua identidade quer no seu ódio pela violência. Apesar do excesso de características heróicas acabar por retirar peso dramático à personagem, coloca-nos ainda mais no plano da fantasia, onde a realidade se mostra apenas em breves interlúdios.


Cillian Murphy carrega às costas esta história contada em capítulos, como um diário. A sua interpretação é excelente e completamente absorvente, conseguindo ser extremamente feminino sem ser afectado. Ao seu lado está a expressividade subtil de um Liam Neeson e a presença magnética de Brendan Gleeson. Um encontro de Kitten em Londres com Mr. Silky String permite-nos encher os olhos (à falta dos ouvidos) com Bryan Ferry.


O que nos fica de Kitten, e um pouco à laia de lição, é todo o seu optimismo, a sua entrega ao amor, incondicional de cada nova vez, onde os sofrimentos passados não corrompem a melhor ingenuidade. E onde, como canta Dusty Springfield em “The Windmills of your Mind”, a vida é uma ininterrupta roda, onde, em todos os momentos, temos o dever de ser felizes.






CITAÇÕES:


“Patrick "Kitten" Braden - And the other thing about the Phantom Lady was, Bert, she realized, in the city that never sleeps...
Bertie - What did she realize, Kitten?
Patrick "Kitten" Braden - That all the songs she'd listened to, all the love songs, that they were only songs.
Bertie - What's wrong with that?
Patrick "Kitten" Braden - Nothing, if you don't believe in them. But she did, you see. She believed in enchanted evenings, and she believed that a small cloud passed overhead and cried down on a flower bed, and she even believed there was breakfast to be had...
Bertie - Where?
Patrick "Kitten" Braden - On Pluto. The mysterious, icy wastes of Pluto.”
CILLIAN MURPHY (Patrick "Kitten" Braden) e STEPHEN REA (Bertie)


“If I wasn't a transvestite terrorist, would you marry me?”
CILLIAN MURPHY (Patrick "Kitten" Braden)


HONEY

See the tree how big it's grown
But friend it hasn't been too long
It wasn't big.
I laughed at her and she got mad
The first day that she planted it
'Was just a twig.
The the first snow came
And she ran out to brush the snow away
So it wouldn't die.
Came runnin' in all excited
Slipped and almost hurt herself
I laughed till cried.

She was always young at heart
Kind a dumb and kind a smart
And I loved her so.
I surprised her with a puppy
Kept me up all christmas eve
Two years ago.

And it would sure embarrass her
when I came home from working late
'Cause I would know
That she'd been sittin' there and cryin'.
Over some sad and silly late late show:

And Honey I miss you and I'm being good
And I'd loveto be with you if only I could.

She wrecked the car and she was sad
And so afraid that I'd be mad
But what the heck.
Though I pretended hard to be
Guess you could say she saw through me
And hugged my neck.
I came home unexpectedly
And found her crying needlessly
In the middle of the day
And it was in the early spring
When flowers bloom and robins sing
She went away.

And Honey I miss you and I'm being good...

Yes
one day while I wasn't home
While she was there and all alone
The angels came.
Now all I have is memories
Of Honey and I wake up nights
And call her name.
Now my life's an empty stage
Where Honey lived and Honey played
And love grew up.
A small cloud passes over head
And cries down in the flower bed
That Honey loved.

See the tree how big it's grown...


WINDMILLS OF YOUR MIND
Dusty Springfield


Round
like a circle in a spiral
like a wheel within a wheel
never ending or beginning
on an ever spinning reel
like a snowball down a mountain
or a carnival balloon
like a carousel that’s turning
running rings around the moon

like a clock whose hands are sweeping
past the minutes of its face
and the world is like an apple
whirling silently in space
like the circles that you find
in the windmills of your mind!

like a tunnel that you follow
to a tunnel of its own
down a hollow to a cavern
where the sun has never shone,
like a door that keeps revolving
in a half forgotten dream,
or the ripples from a pebble
someone tosses in a stream

like a clock whose hands are sweeping...

keys that jingle in your pocket
words that jangle in your head
why did summer go so quickly?
was it something that you said?
lovers walk along a shore
and leave their footprints in the sand

is the sound of distant drumming
just the fingers of your hand?
pictures hanging in a hallway
and the fragment of this song
half remembered names and faces
but to whom do they belong?

he: when you knew
that it was over
you were suddenly aware
that the autumn leaves were turning
to the color
of her hair!

she: when you knew
that it was over
in the autumn of goodbyes
for a moment
you could not recall the color
of his eyes!

like a circle in a spiral
like a wheel within a wheel
never ending or beginning
on an ever spinning reel

as the images unwind
like the circles
that you find
in the windmills of your mind!
























































































































































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