#Italian Villa Review | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ahockeywrites · 8 months ago

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swimwear season - ax72

word count: 4.2k pairing: arber xhekaj x fem!wife!reader warnings: 18+ only!!!! dom!arber, sub!reader, smut, swearing, oral m!receiving, cum swallowing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it as always), butt stuff (please do your research before engaging in this) choking, mentions of a safe word but not used, rough sex, urm I kinda went a little insane with this one… I’m sorry but I’m also not sorry, let me know if there are other warnings I should add because I don’t really know what else to say. I’m sorry, but enjoy :)

authors note: again, apologies 🤭 but I can always write more like the wedding/more of the honeymoon

Those skimpy bikinis and swimsuits would be the death of him, today’s tiny leopard print two piece was no exception, as he watched you frolic about in the crystal clear water. The weight of the gold band on his ring finger felt odd, but the memory of you walking down the aisle in a white dress was one he would never forget.

The memory of how he pounded into you in the dressing room, bridal suite, hotel room (twice), was also something he would never forget. He was ravenous for you and he didn’t think it would ever stop.

You turned around so your back faced Arber and he took in the view. Your ass, your back, fuck. You, his wife, covered in his love bites, his scratches, filled with his cum.

You turned once more and started walking out of the water, breasts bouncing and covered in a few droplets of salty sea water. The two rings on your finger glistened under the sun and as you looked back up onto the private beach of the villa, you saw Arber sitting on a sun lounger with a Canadiens cap on, playing on his phone.

You waved towards him and he waved back before moving his phone so that the camera was directed towards you. A laugh escaped your lips as you threw your arms out to the side, smiling with all your teeth out.

The rays of the sun beat down onto you as you made your way back up onto the sand and to the lounger next to your husband. It felt weird to say, you had just got used to calling him your fiancé and now he had a new title. But it was one you would settle into quickly, you were sure about it.

Arber was shirtless, in a pair of five inch inseam shorts with his thighs out to the world. His lap looked so inviting but you were tired following the morning’s excursion, he had you bent over the villa’s kitchen island as you were attempting to make breakfast. The pancakes were eaten eventually, after Arber had put his face between your legs and brought you to climax once more.

The sun lounger was comfy and you settled into the book that you were reading on your kindle.

An hour or so later, once Arber had dragged you away from your book and into the water once more, the pair of you headed inside to shower and get ready for the dinner that was booked for that evening. Arber had found an Italian restaurant with amazing reviews and was able to get a table booked for sunset.

He knew how excited you were for the restaurant but he couldn’t let you head off to the bathroom without a kiss. Well, maybe a bit more than a kiss. His lips kissed a path down your neck, nimble fingers undoing the knot at the back of your bikini.

The gentle burn of his beard on your skin was delicious and your brain almost short circuited when his hands moved down your back, finally resting on your ass and grabbing the muscle.

“Fuck,” you moaned as your husband, yeah you liked that, wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling gently.

“You like that,” Arber rasped as he continued his assault of kisses down your body, worshiping you. “My wife fucking loves this.”

The ring of an alarm broke the pair of you out of the heated bubble you were in. It was the alarm that you had set to make sure you were off the beach and headed inside to start getting ready for the evening’s meal.

Arber rolled his eyes as he pulled away from you, looking clearly unimpressed. His eyes were dark and full of lust.

“We can skip dinner,” his lips reattached to your neck, starting to nibble on the skin. “Order in.” His voice became deeper, breaths louder. “I know what I want for dessert already.”

“Baby,” you groaned but leant your neck to the side, giving your husband more access to the skin. “I want to see sunset over the water.”

“And I want to see the sunset from between your legs,” Arber replied, sass evident in his tone. “Pleasuring my wife, my fucking wife.”

It was painful to pull yourself away from him but you knew that if you wanted to make it to dinner and not turn up in your bikini, you needed to escape Arber’s grasp. You wiggled in his arms and it took him a moment to realise that you actually wanted to get ready. He pouted and attempted puppy dog eyes which didn’t really work when he was taller than you.

You pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, lips flush with the shell of his ear. “Tonight,” you started, “I’m all yours.”

“You’re always mine baby.”

You swirled the glass of wine around in your hand forming a small whirlpool in the centre, looking Arber directly in the eyes. His eyes wanted to wander. Down your neck to your collarbones and even further if he knew he wouldn’t be spotted. The low neckline of your black dress was teasing him and he couldn’t help think of what he wanted to do when you got back to the villa.

Your tongue darted out to lap up the droplet of wine that rested on your lips, painted a sinful red. You watched as Arber closed his eyes for slightly longer than usual. The plan was working.

Rile up Arber until he couldn’t take it anymore and wait for him to throw you against a wall and take you on the first surface he could find. It had happened before in Montreal after a win in the playoffs and you knew after that, you wanted it again. Wanted more. Wanted anything that he would give.

“Dessert?” The waiter asked and you shook your head.

“Just the bill, thanks,” Arber replied. You both knew that it would take them a few minutes to bring the bill over so you started a conversation about the plans for the next few days. The plans that didn’t involve you between the sheets. More time spent on the beach, a hike up in the mountains and more lavish dinners with delicious wine.

As Arber was speaking, you took a risk. You raised up one of your feet, clad with a pair of black, heeled Louboutins, and placed it in his lap. The long tablecloth was a godsend as you stroked his clothed cock with the base of the shoe.

It was something you hadn’t felt the confidence to do before. You’d had sex in public, well, outside of bars, in toilets at friends weddings (that was one hell of an apology to the bride that you had to make). But you hadn’t actively teased Arber like this outside of your house.

You watched as his eyes darkened, gaze flicking between your face, chest and where your foot was currently resting. His hand grasped your ankle, gently stroking the smooth skin. It contrasted with the callouses on his hands from years of hockey. You tried to get him to moisturise, but he never did.

Arber tilted his head slightly and gave you a look without expression but you knew exactly what it meant. Stop being a brat. A small part of your brain agreed with him, but the devil on your shoulder was louder than the angel.

You shook your ankle in protest, purposefully working over his clothed cock which you could feel hardening. Not like he wasn’t hard for you the entire wedding season. He was ready to go whenever you wanted.

The waiter returned, holding the bill and Arber passed across his credit card to pay for dinner. It went quickly but you could tell that he was struggling because your foot didn’t stop moving over his groin.

When the waiter confirmed that everything had gone through and you were free to leave, your husband walked over and pulled your chair out before offering you his hand. His arm wrapped around your waist as you thanked the staff for their hospitality during one of the best dinners you had ever had.

There was a slight breeze when you both exited the restaurant and the ends of your dress started to raise slightly, exposing more of your legs to the elements. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means but Arber noticed you shiver slightly so he slipped off his jacket and draped the fabric over your shoulders.

“Even when she’s a brat, my wife deserves the best,” he commented when you began walking once more. The walk back to the villa wasn’t far and with Arber’s jacket swamping you, you kept yourself nice and warm whilst ogling your husband slightly. The fabric of his shirt was straining slightly with his muscles underneath but you were not complaining, especially not when you knew that you’d be the one taking it off later.

When the villa came into view, you hurried off in front of Arber, leaving him to look at you in heels and his jacket as that was all he could see from behind. It was a private road so he knew that he could palm himself over his slacks without anyone else seeing, but he couldn’t. He needed you, even if you were in a bratty mood.

The front door had been left ajar and Arber knew that you had taken your key in that tiny clutch of yours that usually just held your phone and lipstick. That fucking cherry red lipstick. The one that had stained the base of his cock more times than he could remember.

He slipped his shoes off, emptied his pockets and walked over to the fridge to grab himself a beer. The top unscrewed easily and he heard your feet padding down the stairs from the master bedroom to the family room. You had decided to make your presence known then, he thought.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted you in a black lace bra with a matching thong and garters wrapped around your thighs. Sitting on your lower legs, ass just touching your heels. There was no way that you had that on underneath the dress. That must have been the reason why you sped off quickly, to get changed. Not that he was complaining.

There was nothing to complain about, not when his wife was sat, waiting for him in almost nothing. Not when his cock jumped when his eyes took you in.

You watched as he walked over to the chair in front of you, cock straining the front of the slacks. Your brain was telling you to undo the pants and get your mouth on his cock, get his cock in your cunt, anything.

Arber swirled the bottle of beer in his hand as he looked at you, sat in only lingerie on the floor. His muscular frame filled out the chair he was sat in and he looked so inviting. But you knew better than to move without instruction.

The smell of need filled the air. He lifted the bottle to his lips to take a sip of the alcoholic beverage and your pussy fluttered at the way his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You knew exactly how those fingers felt inside you, pleasuring you in the way that only he knew how to.

His black suit jacket was draped over the back of the chair and a few buttons were undone, exposing a slither of Arber’s chest. His thighs were barely contained by the black slacks he was wearing and on another night, he would have made you come by you riding his thigh. Not tonight though.

You felt his eyes take all of you in, the way the black lace hugged your curves, the sharp contrast of the lace and your red lipstick that he couldn’t wait to have painted all over his cock.

“Crawl,” Arber demanded, dark eyes piercing yours. A shiver went down your spine, wetness pooled between your legs. “I don’t want to ask twice.”

You meant forward onto your hands and obeyed him, crawling the small distance to where he was sat. Between his legs had become a place where you were incredibly comfortable and it was somewhere you had spent a lot of time recently. In bed, on the private beach, a closet at an event.

Arber undid the button at the top of his slacks and followed that with the zipper. His skin was immediately on display and that’s when you realised that he had foregone boxers for dinner. He didn’t do it often and it shocked you almost every time he did. Arber just reminded you that on most nights out you went without a bra and occasionally panties. As always, you rolled your eyes at him.

Your husband shuffled in the seat, freeing his weeping cock to the cool breeze. The tip looked a painful red and you watched as Arber wrapped a hand around his thick shaft. He gently stroked himself, watching how you looked up at him longingly, wanting to replace his hand with your mouth. He was in a mean mood tonight, but not too mean.

“Open,” Arber commanded. You obliged, allowing him to push two fingers into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers in the same way that you would do to his cock, giving the tips gentle licks.

After a few moments, he pulled the fingers out of your mouth and then worked his cock with the same hand, using your saliva as a lubricant. Fuck, it was hot to watch your husband fuck his hand as his eyes trailed down your body.

It took all of his self control to not burst then and there, but somehow he found the tiniest slither and removed his hand from his shaft.

“Suck,” the words echoed around the room but you barely had time to notice what he had said before your mouth was full of his cock. His hand rested on the back of your head, pushing you down so that your nose was almost flush with Arber’s pubic bone.

Almost. To work him fully, you needed to use at least your mouth and a hand but truthfully, watching his cock go in and out of your mouth was one of the hottest sights he had ever seen.

The grip on the back of your head loosened and he allowed you to dictate the pace. At first you started slow, but very quickly increased the speed. You could feel Arber tugging on your hair, his nails scratching your scalp due to the pleasure that you were giving him.

His hips started bucking up, forcing his cock further down your throat. Tears started pricking at the corners of your eyes, not for the first time on this holiday.

A few rogue tears did drop down your cheeks, bringing your mascara down your face.

You loved it, the way that Arber could take control on the ice and in the bedroom. He was a gentleman in public, but a freak in the sheets. The side that only you got to see was one of your favourites, along with Arber in the mornings who woke you up with kisses to your face and neck and followed it up with gentle sex.

Or the Arber who loved to watch you bake in the kitchen and crowned himself the official taste tester of the Xhekaj household, ensuring that all the baked goods were of an acceptable quality.

Or the Arber who used one arm to pin your hips down on the bed and used the other hand to rub tight circles on your clit as he buried his face in your cunt.

But this Arber, brat tamer Arber was one that rarely came out.

“Lean back princess,” you obliged your husband and watched as he jerked himself off, it took him moments to come, painting your chest with his seed, claiming you as his once more.

You took a finger to the mess he had made on your chest and collected some of the come onto the tip of your index finger. Your eyes met his and he watched as you put your finger into your mouth and sucked off his cum. It made him almost want to orgasm again at how sexy you looked.

“Upstairs, now,” he ordered, using his hand to direct you in front of him.

Arber watched as your ass swayed as you walked up the stairs. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the thin, black lace that sat between your ass cheeks and how he wanted to bury himself there.

The pair of you rounded the corner and a strong hand came to your shoulder. “Lay down princess, or I’ll make you.”

You listened and rested your chest on the soft fabric of the comforter, feet still planted on the floor. The globes of your ass were on display to your husband and you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass.

A moan caught your attention, and you turned your head as much as you could to see Arber undoing the buttons of his shirt and fully taking off his slacks. He was stood behind you fully naked, except his chain, in all his glory.

Hands roamed over your backside, massaging the muscle, moving the material of your thong from between your ass cheeks to the side.

You heard it before you felt it. The sound of bottle of lube being opened and the cold sensation of it resting on your tightest opening. One of Arber’s large fingers circled your asshole, testing the waters, asking for permission.

“Fuck yes please,” you moaned, knowing that he needed your consent.

“What do you want baby,” he growled in your ear, finger still skirting around where you needed him.

“You,” your words were breathless, you could barely speak. You were so strung up, wound so tight that any movement could tip you over the edge.

“Me?” Arber questioned. “Where do you want me?”

“Want you in my ass, want your fingers,” you groaned before he slowly pushed his middle finger past the tight ring of muscle. Your moans bounced off the walls as Arber slowly moved his finger in and out, the sounds of the lubricant on his finger were drowned out by you.

You felt Arber climb onto the bed as he continued to finger your ass. He caged you into the bed, pressing your chest further into the bed, the cool metal of his chain adding to the difference in sensation you felt in different parts of your body. It was a sight as your tried to arch your back into him but he didn’t let you, he needed to have you learn that you couldn’t be a brat in public.

“If my wife wants to be a brat in public, she’ll get punished when she gets home,” he whispered in your ear before pulling his finger out of your ass.

You rolled over onto your back, sweat dripping down your forehead. A pout formed on your lips and you tried to look as though you were in a mood with your husband.

Arber completely ignored your look and walked over to his suitcase. You watched as he squatted down, appreciating his hockey training, and rummaged through his belongings. He was looking for something and your pussy clenched around nothing as you wondered what it could be.

Your husband was no stranger to using toys in the bedroom, he loved the way that he could make you writhe and squirm when he pressed your vibrator to your clit as he pounded in and out of you. The man could multi task better than anyone else you had been with.

He was muttering something to himself, you couldn’t make out the words but you could hear the jangle of metal on metal and you realised what he was looking for. The butt plugs.

Before Arber, no one had ever entertained your interest in anal play but your then boyfriend relished the idea. You had mentioned that you had masturbated with butt plugs in before and you loved the sensation. From then, he helped you get more comfortable with the feeling of his fingers then, and eventually his cock.

He would never forget the moans you made when he played with your clit as his cock pushed past the tight ring of muscle. How you moaned into his mouth as he pressed sweet kisses to your lips when he slowly started moving his hips back and forth. The feeling of your orgasm and the way you arched your back into his chest and he watched your eyes roll back in your head. Absolute bliss.

“There it is,” Arber exclaimed when he found the right one. “Ass up again baby, you know what I want.”

“Yes sir,” you rolled over and arched your back, pushing your ass into your husbands face. His hand slapped the smooth skin of your butt, giving each cheek a hard spank. It stung, but the pain was pleasurable. You had taken more spankings before.

“It’s gonna be cold, but you already knew that,” Arber explained as he opened the bottle of lube again, coating the metal in the liquid.

You felt the tip of the plug press against your asshole and took a deep breath, knowing what was to come.

“Breathe out baby,” Arber coached and eased the plug into you as you followed his instruction. “Fucking beautiful.” He stepped back to admire his handy work. The jewel tucked between your cheeks sparkled under the dim lights of the room and his cock hardened instantly.

He was quick to cage you back into the bed, slipping his cock into your dripping pussy. Expletives left your mouth as Arber started thrusting hard and fast into you. One of his hands roamed your back, grasping one of your breasts and using it as leverage to pull your back flush to his chest, the other snaked it’s way to find your clit and started rubbing tight circles on the bud.

The pressure built in your core, from the sensation of the plug, your husband’s length hitting that spot over and over again and the sustained attack on your clit. Arber knew exactly how to get you to the edge and over it, if he was feeling nice.

“Fuck,” you moaned, leaning your head back to rest on your husband’s shoulder. “I’m gonna,” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he pulled out of you and flipped you over so your back was pushed into the bed.

“Brats don’t get to come unless I say,” he said before lifting your legs up so your ankles rested on his shoulders. He positioned himself in front of your wanton cunt before pushing himself inside your tight walls once more.

His hands wandered again, as they always did when you were naked and on display for him. His right gently wrapped around your neck and his left played with your nipple. The extra sensation meant that you twitched up into him and he could tell that you were almost at the end of what you could handle before shouting your safe word.

“Come for me princess,” Arber encouraged you. “Don’t hold back.” His hand that was playing with your nipple moved down to your clit and started drawing figure eights on the nerves.

You leant into the feeling of pleasure that started building. You couldn’t say anything, your entire body was overtaken in the sensation of Arber doing everything he needed for you.

He watched as you gasped and then he felt your walls constrict around him. Stars filled your vision as Arber fucked you through your orgasm that seemed to last forever. You were on a different planet with how he made you feel, he knew exactly what you needed and when you needed it. The strength it had taken to keep your legs on his shoulders had gone as he let them fall down.

Arber was quick to follow on your orgasm as he felt his balls tighten and he shot his seed into you, coating your walls. His large body fell on top of yours in a sweaty tangled mess. His lips found yours once more in a sweet kiss and he could tell that he had tired you out.

“I’m gonna pull out now baby,” he told you and you groaned as you felt the sensation in your core change from full to empty. “The plug too.”

You moved your body slightly but Arber took the lead and spread your legs to get the best access to the plug without rolling you over.

“Deep breath again baby,” you obliged Arber as he gently pulled the plug from you. Your body shook slightly at the second change in sensation but you started snuggling yourself into the comforter on the bed.

Arber walked into the bathroom to clean the plug and then quickly walked back out with a damp, warm washcloth and started wiping between your legs. A smile made its way onto your face as your husband looked after you, even after ruining you.

In his other hand, he had a makeup wipe. He gently ran the wipe across your face, collecting the mascara that had run down and cleaning off the last remains of lipstick.

“I know it’s not your twenty step skincare routine,” he joked. “But it’s better than nothing.”

You found the energy to run a hand through his dark locks and bring him in for a kiss.

“If you think that’s gonna stop be being a brat, think again,” you smirked, only to be met with a bigger smirk from Arber.

“Sometimes, the sheriff needs riding darling,” he replied. “And that’s where you come in.”

#ahockeywrites #nhl imagine #hockey writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey story #hockey fic #smut #arber xhekaj imagine #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj smut #ax72

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desimonewayland · 7 months ago

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Edith Wharton, Italian Villas and their Gardens (New York: The Century Co., 1904)

Public Domain Review

#edith wharton #maxfield parrish #garden #early 20th century #italy

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clairedaring · 10 months ago

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"Thai BL The Finest" Screening: I Feel You Linger In The Air & Scent of Memory

Hosted By Panoramist Spotlight

Date: 9:30-14:00 (Berlin), Saturday, 02/24/2024

Location: Colosseum (Schönhauser Allee 123, Berlin, 10437)

Public tickets (15€) available at https://shorturl.at/mDKMS

Details

Highly-acclaimed and award-winning in Thailand and abroad, "I Feel You Linger in the Air" is a Thai historical BL series with a fantasy twist, adapted from a popular Thai novel of the same title that has been translated into several foreign languages including English, German and Italian. It was co-produced by YYDS Entertainment and Dee Hup House and released in 2023.

The boys-love, or BL, series are those that depict a romantic relationship between two male protagonists. Originated from Japan, it is also acknowledged as a fascinating aspect of Thailand’s popular culture, showing the country's increasing openness towards people with different ways of life. In the past years, it has been continuously gaining popularity around the world.

"I Feel You Linger in the Air" tells a story about Jom, an architect in Chiang Mai overseeing the renovation of a rundown villa, continuously dreaming of a man he's never met. After his boyfriend broke up him for a woman, Jom is devastated, driving into a river. After regaining consciousness, he finds himself stuck in the time of 1927. In this unfamiliar world, he finally encounters the mysterious man from his dreams - Mr. Yai, and starts a bitter sweet love affair that defies social status, gender expectation, time and space.

"From the fantasy premise to the historical setting, I Feel You Linger in the Air is one of the most extraordinary BL dramas. Each fascinating storyline explores the past era and examines cultural nuances insightfully. It tackles many complex themes, including class differences, womanhood, and LGBTQ+ experiences. Thanks to the couple's enchanting chemistry, I'm spellbound by their majestic romance. Everything about this series evokes epicness." — blwatcher.com review

Therefore, we delightedly invite YYDS Entertainment to bring this masterpiece to Berlin for a public screening during the Berlinale, along with its special episode "Scent of Memory" that has not yet officially released globally. Beside screening, we will also have YYDS CEO Ms. Wan Thabkrajang to share some behind-the-scene stories and introduce the company and Thai BL production industry. She will also present a spoiler video of YYDS' upcoming BL series "My Stand-in".

We also prepare a souvenir gift that we hope can help keep this series lingering longer in your memory. The number is limited and will be given out on the first come first serve basis.

Planned agenda

9:30-12:00 I Feel You Linger in the Air (movie version)

12:15-13:45 Scent of Memory

13:45-14:10 Dialogue with YYDS Entertainment

I Feel You Linger in the Air Official Teaser Scent of Memory Official Trailer

Invite your friends to enjoy one of the finest Thai BL series together. Let this love linger in the air of Berlin ~

#i feel you linger in the air #ifylita #my stand in the series #my stand in #yyds entertainment #yaijom #bright rapheephong #nonkul chanon #i feel you linger in the air special episode #berlinale #i feel you linger in the air special ep #no because i find it a CRIME that european fans get to pay 1/4 of the price that thai fans paid for the special ep screening

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denimbex1986 · 9 months ago

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'Filmyhype.com Ratings: 4.5/5 (four and a half stars)

Freely based on the novel of the same name by Taichi Yamada, All of Us Strangers is the new film by Andrew Haigh starring Andrew Scott, Paul Mescal, Claire Foy, and Jaime Bell. After being presented at the Telluride Film Festival in August 2023. All of Us Strangers is a journey into loneliness, resentment, and the importance that, for better or for worse, our families have on us. But it is also a story of love, acceptance, and forgiveness. “Every love story is a ghost story”, read the title of the biography dedicated to David Foster Wallace, a brilliant author who died too soon after an uninterrupted struggle with the specter of depression. A prophetic title, because truly every human relationship is populated with ghosts, shadows of the past that each of us carries with us as a legacy every time we transmigrate from an old story to a new one, when we make another friendship and perhaps close one historical, as well as when it puts an end – not without pain – to a bond with someone you loved very much, from a lover to a close family member.

And director Andrew Haigh (Weekend, 45 years old) seems to have unconsciously made this title-mantra his own, outlining through the new film he directed – and wrote – a dramatic ghost story, which is in reality much more: we are talking about All of Us Strangers). Presented as an Italian premiere at the 21st edition of Alice nella Città, the film brings together a cast of British excellence on the screen, starting from Andrew Scott (Fleabag) through the very popular Paul Mescal (Aftersun) up to the rediscovered Jamie Bell (Rocketman) and Claire Foy (Women Talking) to tell a modern story of solitudes that meet at the wrong time, of tragic wounds difficult to fill with the gold of Kintsugi and much broader reflections on sexual and even national identity, as demonstrated by the London location. And right in contemporary London, during an ordinary night, the screenwriter Adam (Scott) has a chance encounter with a mysterious neighbor, Harry (Mescal).

They both live in the same almost empty apartment building, they need company and don’t want to spend the night alone, especially Harry: this meeting will break Adam’s routine and, while the two continue their relationship, the screenwriter never stops being obsessed with the fragments of his past, wandering through the terraced houses on the outskirts where he grew up and among which he finds not only his old house but also his parents, who seem to still live there exactly as he left them, thirty minutes later. years after their death. All of Us Strangers is a cosmic melodrama and a torn fantasy, which passes from the tactile to the phantasmatic, isolating the characters in a landscape suspended between an alienating center (a practically uninhabited London building) and an idealized suburb (a villa surrounded by greenery) and connected by a train running on tracks beyond the laws of this world.

All of Us Strangers Review: The Story

London, 2023. We enter the apartment of a screenwriter, Adam (Andrew Scott) that’s his name, with an apparent writer’s block exacerbated by a tragic past. He lives alone in an uninhabited building, or almost so. Thanks to the unmotivated triggering of the fire alarm, Adam, once on the ground floor, discovers that he has only one neighbor, whom he glimpses by scanning the upper floors. The two strangers find themselves face to face only thanks to the cheekiness (fueled by the Japanese alcoholic drink he holds in one hand) of Adam’s only neighbor, Harry (Paul Mescal) who would like some company. He feels alone, he jokingly states that there are “vampires at his door”. Embarrassed and intrigued, Adam declines the offer.

From this moment on, Haigh’s caressing direction transports us into a dreamlike atmosphere, to say the least, in which our protagonist’s past slowly emerges. Orphaned at the age of 12 due to a car accident that took his parents away from his life. To overcome the creative block that afflicts him, Adam decides to return to his old home where his parents (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) who are younger than him at the moment because they were crystallized at the moment of death, open the door for him and both us and we are aware that it is only a reunion that is as imaginary as it is healing and cathartic. Adam will return to them several times, openly declaring his homosexuality to that couple who, in perfect 80s style, still reveal themselves to be slightly tetragonal to their son’s declaration, even though they had already guessed what his sexual preferences might be, revealing quite a few resentments of the child Adam who felt misunderstood, resentments that are washed away by the tears shed on both sides.

Playing a key role is the 80s soundtrack (Always on My Mind; Tainted Love and many other iconic pieces) which gives an air of carefreeness, the same that Adam lived in his childhood before it was tragically taken away from him. The music accompanies family meetings in which Adam has a dreamy look that makes you shiver due to the brutality of his tenderness. But let’s get back to Adam and Harry. Adam decided to make up for that first awkward encounter by indulging his curiosity and giving himself the chance to experience a carnality that had so far been dormant and poorly experienced with the stranger downstairs. The two meet in Adam’s house and talk about episodes of real life, of how growing up they felt like strangers due to those irreconcilable differences>> exacerbated by the society in which they lived. Together with passion, understanding, and complicity grow and that same evening they decide to “come out” by going to a gay club and dancing to the notes of “Promised Land” by Joe Smooth which almost seems to want to establish the arrival in a promised land free of judgments and labels made especially for the two of them.

In a painful new visit to his parents, Adam is revealed that he will soon have to let them go and that this enchantment is destined to fade. Before being dismembered once again, or rather, definitively, the family decides to share a last meal, in which the couple will relive the deadly accident. Once home Paul decides to go to Harry, determined to live the love story with him. Adam and Harry in the moments we saw them together were always at Adam’s house, they never went down to Harry’s apartment. This is because the first evening that from strangers they became neighbors, Harry took his own life after the rejection he suffered and the door thrown in his face.

The two go upstairs, Adam reassures Harry by telling him that he is there at that moment, in his company, no matter what the state of his body is. The finale is to the tune of the poignant “The Power of Love” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood of which Adam reassuringly hums the first lines to Harry: <<I’ll protect you from the hooded claw, keep the vampires from your door>>- I will protect you from death (hooded claw) and the vampires at your door. The exact request that Harry had made of him that first evening but that he hadn’t been vulnerable enough to grasp and accept.

All of Us Strangers Review and Analysis

As has already happened in other films – a title above all, Nowhere Special by Uberto Pasolini – All of Us Strangers also represents a journey into the deepest and most unfathomable mysteries of the male universe, undertaken by a British filmmaker perhaps also to exorcise the legacy of a rigid culture, which has compressed male emotions to the point of making them cryptic and even unknown to those directly involved. “Boys Don’t Cry” we could say, and this aspect also flows into the kaleidoscope of colored and irregular glasses created by Haigh, who relies on the power of the looks, the silences, and the very close-ups of his interpreters, on the explosive force of their interpretations that vibrate like tuning forks crossed by emotions, in an emotional overture that involves the spectator until he feels it.

And this crescendo is also rendered by an aestheticized direction, at times strongly permeated by the British psychedelic culture of Ken Russell of The Devils (one of the many films directed by the filmmaker) or by the bizarre eccentricities of Kenneth Anger, director of the 70s. Emotional oddities mark Adam’s slow descent into the burrow of an acidic White Rabbit, due to which the boundaries between imagination and hallucination become increasingly blurred and sensitive, frightening and unpredictable exactly like a portal between two worlds. That same border that Harry also finds himself, despite himself, crossing, partly by choice and partly to chase Adam, a new Orpheus who tries to get Eurydice back from the Underworld into which she was dragged: but also the boy, with his sad eyes, he just needs to be saved and not feel too alone during one of the very long nights marked by a blood moon in the sky, which silently watches over human destinies.

The protagonists share a condition of alienating loneliness, a situation that is represented in every shot and in every scene starting from the uninhabited building, a loneliness that fills every aspect of Adam’s life. It is Adam who is the common thread among the few characters who haunt the story. All of Us Strangers is a journey into the past, but above all, it is a story of love, redemption, and forgiveness. Forgiveness for others, but above all for oneself. Adam is anchored in the memory of his childhood, a period of life that was not particularly happy, but it is the resentment for a life he never had the chance to live that pushes him to return to his parent’s house. Everything gives the illusion that time has stopped: from his parents’ house to the way they are dressed; Adam himself seems imprisoned in a bubble.

From the aesthetics to the music to the television shows that aired decades before that Adam uses as a background to write, everything takes us back to a past that is only apparently better, but extremely fragile as Adam himself says: “It seems like we live in a better time, but it doesn’t take much to reopen old wounds”. Haigh’s screenplay is infused with nostalgia for a time that had its dark sides, for a difficult childhood that ended too quickly and left Adam completely alone to face the discovery of his homosexuality, the cruelest period of his life. AIDS, complex adolescence, but also without anyone with whom to share the best memories such as having bought an apartment, being able to make a living from writing, or his relationship with Harry. Adam also remembers his parents in an honest way, not sweetened by the desire to paint a better family than it is.

His parents are a traditionalist couple where homosexuality is seen as something distant, not natural, not every day, a condition frowned upon. While his mother is worried and dreams of a marriage with a woman and grandchildren for him, his father realizes the mistakes he has made, and his failure to be close to Adam when he needed him most. All of Us Strangers bring to the screen a sad everyday reality where homophobia is not represented through physical but psychological violence. A homophobia that distances, alienates, forces people to live on the margins of society, alone and abandoned. Stranger is a film made of pauses, silences, and extrapolated moments. Nothing is left to chance. Haigh both in the intimate direction, both in the silences and the music, and the cast reduced to the essential, but where each actor manages to carve out a space for himself, he manages to conceive an intelligent film. Intelligent in the way he combines the pieces, carrying forward a dramatic story that however does not fall into the usual clichés.

All of Us Strangers Review: The Last Words

Are we all alone in the universe, lonely stars scattered in a remote galaxy, or can the force of love unite even what is distant, in time and even in physical space? All of Us Strangers also tries to answer these questions by creating perhaps the definitive film on the very concept of love and feeling, instilling doubts, trying to provide solutions (but never answers), and exorcising even the worst specter of all: that of the past, with the risk of remaining stuck in our tragic wounds without being able to move forward, stuck in a path of growth and self-determination to finally truly know ourselves. Being able to hug each other again, clarify, apologize, confess. Become children again, perhaps, lying in bed together. “As if the future didn’t matter”. And no longer because the pain has turned everything off. But because in love there is only light that shines. Like a star.

Editor's Rating: 4.5

Pros

* The issue of loneliness and how it is addressed * The story is full of suffering and drama, but does not give in to clichés * The cast and direction are the real highlights that enrich a brilliant screenplay reduced to the essentials

Cons

* It may be a little slow at first, but slowness soon becomes essential to enter Adam's daily life and better understand his world'

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roseshavethoughts · 7 months ago

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Torso (1973)

Torso (1973) #Review

Synopsis- Jane and her friends decide to take a break from college and go to a villa for the weekend. However, they soon realise that a serial killer has followed them. Director- Sergio Martino Starring- Suzy Kendall, Carla Brait, Tina Aumont Genre- Horror | Crime Released- 1973 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.5 out of 5. Torso, the 1973 Italian Giallo film directed by Sergio Martino, stands as a…

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#1970s Cinema #★★★★#Carla Brait #cinema #Crime #European cinema #film review #Film Reviews #Horror #Italian Cinema #movie review #Sergio Martino #slasher #Suzy Kendall #Tina Aumont

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world-cinema-research · 7 months ago

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Journey to Italy

By Aiden McKinney

Writer/Director Roberto Rossellini based his 1954 film, Journey to Italy, on a french novel, Duo, in which a french couple travel the south of France, and find themselves in marital discord due to the wife’s infidelity. Rossellini cast his own wife, Ingrid Bergman to play Katherine Joyce, and George Sanders as her husband, Alex Joyce. Rossellini’s version finds the Joyce’s traveling to Naples, Italy to settle the sale of a villa they inherited from their Uncle. The marriage is already troubled, as the couple don’t seem to know each other at all. Alex is stubborn and cold towards Katherine. Katherine is vulnerable but has a sharp tongue towards Alex. He feels he is wasting his time in Italy and would rather be back in London, working. Katherine wants to take advantage of their time in Italy, taking in the sites. The couple share dinner with locals and friends of their Uncle. The first dinner has Katherine jealous as Alex is overly friendly with one of the ladies. The second dinner has Alex jealous, as many of the male guests are laughing and enjoying Katherine’s company. The final straw is a conversation between the two, as Katherine shares memories of a poet friend of hers, Charles, who would send her letters describing the landscapes of the cities in Italy. Alex became immediately jealous and accused Katherine of having romantic feelings for Charles, then and now, revisited. The conflict is strong and as a viewer, I could definitely feel the tension between the two.

Rossellini had a reputation for not following the rules in Hollywood. It was a known fact that when he lacked inspiration, he would be absent from set for days, and felt it would benefit the actors to be more spontaneous, when he only provided them the script a day prior to filming. In fact, the script for Journey to Italy was only half written, leaving the rest to be improvised by the actors. This irritated the leads, in particular Sanders, who reported to the Italian Journal Cinema, “Rossellini decreed that I was an impossible man. People talk about neorealism…It’s a joke. The real reason that Rossellini films in the streets is that studio sets cost money. I’ve seen some misers before, but I’ve never met anyone who could equal him.” University of California Press Rossellini was a director of neorealism and his unconventional films honored that style. In many of his films, and in particular this one, he would use non-actors ( local Neopolitans) and dub English over their speech. Furthermore, Journey to Italy is literally a cinematic trip that uses the Italian landscapes as a metaphor to the theme of a failing marriage. Katherine visits the volcano Vesuvius, which seems to remind her of the reality and enormity of her volatile relationship. Towards the end of the film, both Katherine and Alex visit the ruins of the ancient city of Pompeii, in which archeologists are in the process of digging up petrified remains of a man and woman locked in embrace. The plot is simple, there really isn't’much of one. This film is driven by emotion and the symbolism is strong through.

The general public must not have been ready for such a neorealist, artsy film, however, because it flopped at the box office. I was not able to find a budget for the film, but it grossed $20,000 worldwide. Journey to Italy (1954) - IMDb It did, however, receive excellent reviews for its cinematography and its intimate look at a very personal experience that is relatable to so many. “In the April 1955 issue of Cahiers du cinéma , Jacques Rivette said this of the film: "And there we are . . . cowering in the dark, holding our breath, our glance suspended on the screen which grants us such privileges: to spy on our neighbor with the most shocking indiscretion, to violate with impunity the physical intimacy of human beings, subjected without knowing it to our passionate watching; and, at the same time, the immediate rape of the soul.” University of California Press More modern reviews are mixed, with the majority appreciating the cinematography, but feeling the storyline was slow and provided little insight to the depths of just why this marriage was falling apart. Imdb Journey to Italy

Youtube.com Journey to Italy trailer

IMDB Journey to Italy

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tilbageidanmark · 1 year ago

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Movies I watched this Week # 150 (Year 3/Week 46):

We All Loved Each Other So Much, only my second by Ettore Scola (after 'A special day'), a sprawling saga of post-World War II Italian life and politics, dedicated to and with a cameo of Vittorio de Sica. Strangely episodic and focused on friendship and the cinema. At one point he's recreating the shooting of the Fontana di Trevi scene of La Dolce Vita, with both Fellini and Mastroianni re-playing themselves - very uncanny!

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The four times is a wordless, award-winning slow-poem from 2010. Philosophically, it follows the Pythagorean notion about the four transmigrations of the soul, as exemplified in the lives of a human, an animal, a plant and a mineral. Visually, it follows a dying goatherd in a small southern Italian village, who mixes the dust from the local church floor with water to drink as medicine. Just as he dies, a baby goat is being born, then the story turns to a fir tree under which that lost goat had died, and finally into a pile of charcoal. The smoke from the burning coal turns into dust, which is what the old shepherd drank. It’s the cycle of life and death. It's a fragile and contemplative viewing, quiet and spiritual.

The trailer. 9/10.

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“Raise ravens, and they'll gouge your eyes out”…

Raise Ravens (Cría Cuervos) by renown Spanish director Carlos Saura. A mystical psychological drama about painful childhood memories. With the same little actress who starred in ‘The spirit of the beehive’. She watches her dying mother suffering in pain, fantasises about poisoning her father, relives her sad upbringing in a villa with an empty swimming pool in the back. That kind of story.

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"Pi-Kan Pai!"

Another frequent re-watch: Best (?) modern romantic comedy, When Harry met Sally. Sweet Sally (Photo Above) and Woody Allen-lite Harry, the original obnoxious mansplainer, and "human affront to all women". How they fall in love in 12 short years. His deeply cynical misogyny is an unpleasant hindrance, but eventually even he changes, becomes softer, even nice.

With a shout-out to Mallomas, the American version of the Danish flødeboller (קרמבו). Still 10/10.

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L’enfer (Torment), my 7th film by Claude Chabrol, a low-rent version of 'The Shining', about a husband who descends into madness. A paranoiac hotel owner starts suspecting that his wife is cheating on him, and his obsessive jealousy turns this whole story into an ugly, unpleasant trip. 3/10.

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Wikipedia has a list of all movies with 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes and # 6 with the highest number of unanimous reviews (129) is Minding the gap, a 2018 Oscar nominee. The debut documentary from one Bing Liu is the tremendous chronicles of himself and his two blue-collar friends. Three young skaters from Rockford, IL, from their teens until much older and sadder, they look back at their disappointed, broken lives. Rockford, IL, a dying rust belt city with 100% empty streets. 9/10.

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All inclusive, a lovely Danish comedy, made by an all-women team, about a 60-year-old mother and her two adult daughters on a Southern vacation to Malta. The one freewheeling daughter wants her mother to have some fun, so she pays a local bartender to flirt with her. My 3rd film with Danica Curcic. 6/10.

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“Call me” X 2:

🍿 Call me Chihiro is a wistful feel-good slow-cinema fairy tale, about a 29-year-old free spirit in a small seaside Japanese town. She's a former sex worker but now she services as a cashier at a Bento shop. Kind and friendly to anyone she meets, she spreads good will to anyone who crosses her path. Always smiling, but nurturing a sad heart, it's a leisurely-told story that eventually meanders over 2 hours with heartfelt snippets of the various characters she touches, but with no resolutions. 7/10.

It made me realize how purely escapist are the all movies I watch. I am satisfied walking with her at sunset on the docks of this pretty, far away town.

🍿 Re-watch: Luca Guadagnino's sensuous Call Me by Your Name. Beautifully-shot, romantic love story of an upper-class Italian summer. Great acting by two hetero(?) players, and the irritating Jewish father.

You know what things... The incredible one-shot at the plaza.

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Pull my daisy, an experimental "Beat Generation" movie, made by photographer Robert Frank in 1959. Written and narrated by Jack Kerouac, and featuring Allen Ginsburg, Gregory Corso and Delphine Seyrig (!), it's a jazzy, free-form poem with an improvisational Joycean flair. A bohemian group crash a party. Nice!

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Apocalypse Clown, an absurdist apocalyptic Irish slapstick comedy about a troupe of washed out clowns, trying to find meaning after a freak solar flare wipes out electricity in the world. Silly and off-beat. 7/10.

The trailer.

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3 by Mabel Normand, silent screen director and actress:

🍿 Mabel Norman was a major female director and star who collaborated with Mack Sennet, and directed Charlie Chaplin's first films.

Mabel's Strange Predicament was Chaplin's first film where he used the tramp persona and costume. It was 1914, and he was slightly less polished: It was obvious he was a drunk, a lecher, a big tipper, his make up had his mouth in a permanent frown. Her predicament was being locked out of her room wearing pajamas!

🍿 Caught in a Cabaret, another 1914 Chaplin 2-reeler. Here he's a waiter who fakes being the Prime Minister of Greenland. There's also a real giantess, maybe a 6'5 foot extra dancing in the background.

🍿 Mabel's Blunder is a gender-bender comedy, with a secretary being hit by both her boss and his father. This short was added to the National Film Registry.

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Etgar Keret is an absurdist, postmodern Israeli poet. More that 100 of his existentialist plays were adapted to short international movies. I discovered him after reading a painful NYT essay ‘I Feel a Human Deterioration’ about the massacre in Gaza.

Wristcutters: A Love Story, based on a story of his, was a bizarre black-comedy experiment about the after-life station where people who had committed suicide find themselves. It opens with a tremendous surprising suicide, but all of its young actors are especially un-charismatic, the directing by some Croatian dude is distinctively mediocre, and even Tom Waits cannot save it. 4/10

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David Cross's 2021 stand-up I'm from the future opens with a stark and powerful story, a woman’s journey to, and experience in, the gas chamber in Auschwitz. It's an angry, scathing criticism of right wing ideology, delivered remorselessly and without pity. 6/10.

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Edgar Wright directed a fake trailer for a fictitious 1970’s exploitation horror film called Don’t. It was included in Tarantino & Rodriguez’s ‘Grindhouse’.

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Oh, how I hated Scorsese’s cult comedy After Hours! The appalling, affected yuppy character, the typecasted Soho artists, the unfunny twists and turns of the journey to ‘get back home’. 1/10.

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(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

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bandedbulbussnarfblat · 1 year ago

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The Invitation chapter 3

here or read it below

Daniel spends most of the day listening to the tapes in his office. He and Alice converted the nursery into an office after the girls were old enough to not need it. Mostly, Daniel uses it and Alice takes the kitchen. It’s a small room, four walls, crammed with bookshelves and Daniel’s desk. The girls know not to bother him when he’s working here.

He doesn’t take a break until it’s getting dark outside. He barely even notices, too caught up in Louis’ tale. Funny thing is, he can’t even remember the interview from that night. It’s his voice on the tape, but he doesn’t recognize any of what happened.��

There’s a perfunctory knock on the door, then it opens and Alice glides in. “I ordered pizza, it’s on the way. What was on those tapes?”

She’s leaning in the door frame, mug of coffee in her hand. She drinks it all day, says it helps her focus. Daniel thinks he could use a cup himself; he may need to stay up to finish listening to these tapes. “An old interview. I never got to finish the story. Now he wants to meet up and try again.”

Alice sets the mug on one of his shelves and walks over. She perches on the edge on his desk, where there’s just enough free space to do so. The rest is covered with notebooks and scraps of paper and other bits and bobs. She stares at him a second then says “You’re not going to be able to let this go.”

Daniel leans back in his chair and looks at her. “I’d have to go to San Francisco to do the interview.”

“Oh, my cousin Kenny lives in San Francisco,” says Alice. “You remember Kenny, queer as a two dollar bill, got completely shit-faced at our wedding?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Maybe you can crash with him while you’re there. Save money on a hotel. I think he has a guest house now. He has guest house money. His partner is that well-off.”

Daniel shows her the plane ticket. “I think I’ll be staying at his place. He’s already bought me a ticket and everything.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Alice asks. She sounds resigned to the fact he’s going. And Daniel wants to go, but not if it’s going to cause a problem.

“You okay with me going?”

Alice shrugs. “Depends on how long. The girls are old enough I can manage them by myself, but they’ll miss you. Margo especially. She thinks I don’t ‘get’ her.”

Daniel gives her a reassuring smile. “No eleven year old thinks their mother gets them.”

“I guess,” Alice says, “So how long?”

“Just a weekend, initially. He wants to discuss terms. I’ll know more after that.”

Alice drums her fingers against his desk a second then says “If I don’t let you go, you’re going to resent me. Don’t say you won’t, I know how you are when you’re chasing a story. If you want to go, go.”

“I don’t want to go unless you want me to go,” Daniel says, because he honestly doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. It would be so much simpler if Alice just told him what she wanted him to do.

Alice sighs, then smiles wryly. “You’re going to be impossible to live with if you don’t.”

That much is probably true.

“Just for the weekend. Then we can decide when I get back.”

Daniel leaves the next Friday evening. His ticket is first class, which is more luxurious than he’s used to. He spends the five hours on board mentally reviewing all the questions he’s drafted, the notes he’s made. He’s got pages of notes about the initial interview in his bag, notes he’s been working on since he received Louis’ invitation.

He arrives in San Francisco to a whole security detail. It seems excessive to Daniel, but he rolls with it. He’s driven to Louis’ home in a black Rolls Royce with heavily tinted windows. He tries to engage the driver Sergei in conversation, but he must have signed an NDA as closed lipped as he is. He only speaks to tell Daniel they’ve arrived.

The house is an Italian style villa with a green lawn. Daniel takes in the arched doorway, the large windows, the immaculately green grass. It looks like something out of a magazine.

Including the man standing on the second floor balcony. Daniel can’t get a great look at him from the street, but he’s super-model gorgeous. Brown skin, slicked back dark hair and dark-lined amber eyes. Unnatural eyes. He’s standing in the moonlight with his arms on the balcony, peering down at Daniel.

Daniel feels his chest tighten and he can’t look away. He raises a hand to wave. The man doesn’t wave back.

“Daniel,” the door to the house swings open and Louis sweeps out. He looks elegant in all black, beautiful in the preternatural way. “You’ve arrived. Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

“Whose that?” Daniel says and breaks his gaze from the man on the balcony.

Louis glances up. “I’ll introduce you inside. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

“Yeah, let me grab my bags,” Daniel says.

“Sergei will handle that,” Louis says and the driver grabs Daniel’s bags from the trunk and walks them inside. “Did you eat on the plane? I’ve had our chef prepare you a meal.”

‘Our chef.’ Huh.

Daniel’s flight left at seven, so his body thinks it’s midnight, even if it’s only nine in this timezone. But he doesn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot by rejecting Louis’ offer. “I could eat.”

Louis walks him inside. On the way, Daniel takes one last peek at the man on the balcony, but he’s already gone.

#iwtv fic

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