#birdcage inn

[zegalba]

top: Birdcage Inn (1998) bottom: Samaritan girl (2004)

[389]

Birdcage Inn (1998) dir. Kim Ki-duk

[howdypartner-game]

A peek into our tavern: The Birdcage Inn! 💌

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Can u write part 2 like when Moriarty comes back and teams up with Voldemort and Bellatrix I can't choose whose better Sherlock or Snape lol and reader gets taken to Malfoy manor but takes Hermione place and instead of mud blood Bellatrix writes bloodtraitor

Hello dear 💖, thanks for your request.

Sherlock x y/n ravenclaw reader x Snape🕵️‍♀️🧙‍♀️🦇 Tangled wits part 2🔍

Warnings: blood

It’s been two months since y/n saw Snape. Sometimes she wonders if he’s even alive anymore, not even a letter nor a note left behind to keep y/n’s mind at ease. In the living area in Sherlock’s study, y/n pressed her forehead gently against the window as the rain droplets trickled down the glass. Her hand gently touched a letter she had written using ink with an owl’s feather. It was a letter asking for the safety of her one and only friend. The snowy owl chirped from within its cage, causing y/n to snap out of her perturbed trance. She grabbed the letter lightly and opened the birdcage to allow the snowy owl freedom. The letter had a stamp with an ‘H’ in the middle. “Be swift and quick, heed your surroundings, and do not attempt to fly off course, for there are death eaters lurking at every corner” Y/n placed the envelope in the bird’s beak. The snowy owl’s wings expanded and flapped; y/n opened the window latch and watched as the owl flew outside. Y/n heard the front door outside the house creak open; something invited itself inside the home. And it was not Sherlock.

Quickly and smartly, she grabbed her wand and awaited the intruder who dared invade Sherlock’s home. “My dear, how long has it been? Time surely does fly, does it not”. That voice? Why does it sound so familiar? Indeed y/n had crossed this man before in an unruly encounter.

“Itty, bitty, baby—y/n”, a high-pitched, screechy voice peered outside the office’s dark hall. The sound of nails dragging along the walls could be heard as it got closer. The dark fog had emerged from within the office, black as a thick cloud surrounding the small room. Suddenly two red eyes appeared through the thick fog. “Y/n, what a ssssssurprise to see you here cowering before me with nooooo Sherlock”. The voice was horrific, hoarse, guttural, and raspingly husky. It sent shivers down y/n’s spine. “Fear not, child, for your death shall be as painful as the rest of the mudbloodsss”. A figure started to form as the two red eyes came closer, though it was not of a man. The humanoid had smooth, hairless skin covered with a black cloak resembling a snake. It was unlike any ungodly creature y/n had ever seen. The male thing grabbed y/n as she started to lose consciousness, her mind swirling and her sight dark.

The snow owl flapped and flew over the clouds; in the distance, a small town covered in snow. The owl flew closer and closer toward a small building in the snowy village, a village known as Hogsmeade. At every turn, the owl flew closer to its destination. The owl landed in a small building with a sign on the outside that read “Three Broomsticks Inn”. The owl had managed to fly inside when a wizard opened the door. The inside was rather crowded, with many witches and wizards laughing and drinking butterbeer or fire whisky. Although it was crowded, it had a warm feeling, and the inn was clean. Sitting in the corner of the Inn was a man that wore black clothing with a black cloak draped behind him. Around his neck was a hand-knitted scarf coloured in Slytherin’s colours, green. The man’s eyes held a mixture of woe and coldness within them; he didn’t speak to anyone and read the daily prophet alone. The owl flew directly over him and dropped the letter before him. The man sneered with annoyance. “Bloody owls”, he grumbled. When he glanced at the letter, he snatched it from the table and opened it with curiosity. “Perhaps just another dim-witted Gryffindors idea of a prank,” he thought—hopefully, not a howler. The man unfolded the letter, reading each font with emotion; he knew whose words these were written from. His eyes softened, his mouth becoming less snarky and more worried. He stood up from the table and stormed outside the Inn without a second thought. His name at the end of the letter echoed in his mind “Severus”. It was a word only y/n referred him to, besides Albus and Minerva.

“apparate”, Severus flickered his wand. He disappeared from the Snowy Inn in the rainy street on Baker Street. The house he stood in front of must’ve been the correct one, considering the door read “221B”. “How odd,” he thought “, the doors open”. With a quick stance, Severus held his wand, prepared to defend himself from the intruder. He swiftly entered the door and trailed through the hall into the office. “Tch, even the filthy muggle can’t keep his workstation clean; reminds me of another certain half-wit”, he grumbled to himself. With no time to stall, he checked the area, trying to hear or find any trace of y/n, wherever she may be. Severus searched everywhere, yet she couldn’t be found. One thing he spotted, however, was the scratch marks that ran along the hall’s wall. Severus touched the effects along the wall only to realise who could’ve broken in. “Dear Merlin!” he uttered. With no time to waste, he rushed down the hall to the outside of the house. The only problem was now, ugh, he appeared.

Two men stood outside the house: one with a horrified expression and the other with a concerned look. “My god Sherlock, someone broke in” Watson rushed toward the door, only to see Severus standing in the doorway, his hair drenched from the rain. “Explain yourself before my associate, and I have you arrested—” Sherlock interrupted Watson. “Hang on, Watson, this man; we’ve met before” Sherlock approached Severus with a calm and content smile. “Sorry old chap, couldn’t help but notice your standing inside our house with what I assume you must’ve had a replica of our key”, Sherlock analysed.  

“If you assume it was I who caused an intrusion, then your mind is in the gutter”, Snape insulted slightly. “I only stumbled upon the entrance myself”.

“Odd how you “stumbled” at our address and entered our home by which I assumed you investigated the house searching for only one person, a person whom I could only assume couldn’t be Mrs Hudson, one of a particularly close connection that could only lead to—” Sherlock smiled.

“Y/n L/n”, Sherlock concluded.

Snape sneered as the intelligent mud blood guessed correctly only; he didn’t suspect the reason. “I’m not here to pinpoint my alliances; Y/n’s not here; she’s nowhere to be found”.

“Listen to me, you insolent fool, I believe—I have a suspicion y/n’s been kidnapped by dangerous associates, ones that even I can’t find out track down.” Snape crossed his arms with his cloak draping behind him. “Hm, associates, you say? Watson, do you recall what day y/n’s arrival was?” Sherlock asked.

“Ah, my word, it was at least two months ago. Erm, I believe it was the stroke of midnight on the 3rd of March.” Watson stumbled over his words.

“Precisely, by the account of y/n standing outside my office’s window, she encountered a rather peculiar man who happened to be a dear friend of y/n’s”, He recalls. “I believe she mentioned in her previous conversations of death eaters, a group associated with something or someone evil”, Sherlock concluded once more. Snape pieced together the only person who could’ve been interested in knowing y/n’s location, one who tracked them down. “I know where she is; it’s the only possibility”.

Sherlock nodded. “Then there’s no time to waste”.

Severus dreaded the feeling of teaming up against this annoying muggle. However, for y/n’s safety, he tolerated it. The three men stood next to each other, prepared to Apparat; only Watson was hesitant. “I say, do you know what we’re—” Before Snape answered, the three men held hands as Snape Apparated out of the area with Watson screaming, “doinGGGG”. The three appeared outside a big, gloomy mansion with the emblem “S” on it. Watson stumbled and tripped. “I say, that’s surely a new way to travel”. Sherlock didn’t waste a second moment and headed toward the mansion with Snape. As they entered, Severus was somewhat confused by the lack of house elves surrounding the manor. Usually, there were thousands of those little things doing tasks and chores for their master. Severus gripped his wand; he headed into the main dining hall where the last death eaters meeting occurred. The two men hid behind the wall keeping an eye out for other death eaters. Only, instead of seeing the rest of the death eaters, he saw Bellatrix holding her wand over the witch’s arm. “Please, please don’t”, Y/n whimpered. “SILENCE BLOOD TRAITOR!” she screamed. “The order don’t knows-ch you’re here, best send em me regards” Bellatrix grabbed her wand and shoved it into y/n’s arm. The spell dug in like a knife cutting deeply against the witch’s arm. Y/n started to scream, a scream of peril and pain. The words against her arm spelt out “B L O O D T R A I T O R”. Blood tricked down y/n’s arm as she lay there in shock. Severus wanted to kill the older witch for what she did. The screams from y/n trembled in his mind; like a record on repeat, he couldn’t shake it off. Sherlock watched in horror as he couldn’t help the tortured witch.

Sherlock could see the horror that emerged on Severus’s face, pure shock and anger. Sherlock spotted someone he thought was dead next to Bellatrix, “Moriarty”, he whispered. Sherlock tried to think of a plan when Severus entered the room with little to no emotion from what Sherlock had witnessed seconds ago. “Shouldn’t you be tending to the dark lord’s task of gathering the others” Snape calmly spoke.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Sevvy, come ta play, have ya” Bellatrix poked her tongue out in a sinister way. “No, I’ve come for the girl; The dark lord has ordered I take over.” Snape’s act was convincing that even the crazy witch fell for it. Moriarty smiled with an amusing look. “And, if you recall, what were the dark lord’s plans exactly; from moments ago, I thought his orders were clear”.

Severus looked over toward the girl’s body and glanced back at Moriarty. “I would be asking the same, though; I wonder why the dark lord has chosen a muggle to work alongside him”.

“Then I’ll refresh your mind; I’m the only intelligent man on this earth who knows of the order’s plan.” Moriarty snidely remarked. “Though, I’m starting to believe you’re not here for the dark lord, are you”.

Moriarty pulled out a dagger and held it to Y/n’s throat, only to not pierce her skin and dangle it just above. “Tick tock Severus, I say we let the witch burn at the stake, shall we” Moriarty smiled sinisterly. “Moriarty”, Sherlock spoke as he appeared from behind the wall. “Sherlock, good to see you remember me.” Moriarty glared at Sherlock. The two men looked at each other and nodded; Severus shouted “Expelliamus” as the green light hit Bellatrix, knocking her into the wall. Moriarty and Sherlock began to fight using their fists; Sherlock grabbed a medieval sword from a statue of a knight. “Just like old times”, Moriarty snidely remarked. As the two men fought, Snape rushed to y/n’s side, whispering a charm that stopped the bleeding. “Wake up, wake up”, he muttered. Y/n flickered her eyes as she turned to her side to see Severus grabbing her shoulders firmly. “What, where’s Sherlock? Watson!” Y/n tried to call out. Suddenly something pulled her in—Severus was hugging her—her one and only friend she hadn’t seen in ages. Y/n had never seen him like this before, although she didn’t ask and instead wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here.” y/n smiled.

Sherlock caught Moriarty off guard. “Sorry old friend, but I’m afraid our reunion is cut short”. Suddenly a dark, thick fog appeared from within the room; two glowing red eyes emerged as a figure came into view. “Sssso it seems you’ve betrayed me, after I thought you were one of usss”. “Voldemort”, Y/n muttered. “My lord” Severus answered the dark lord. “Silence, you betrayed us and—for that you shall perish” Voldemort cast a spell at Severus; however, y/n was quick to her feet “Expelliamus”. The dark lord casted one spell after another, however, the witch kept fighting back. “I’ll return to end you all” The dark lord vanished from the manor allowing the three to win.

For now, the trio were safe, although Moriarty escaped Sherlock’s grasp and bid his old friend goodbye and vanished within the fireplace using the floo powder.

“Sherlock”, y/n smiled. She hugged the detective with a loving warmth. “Y/n, you’re alive; I’m glad”, Sherlock smiled back. Watson rushed into the dining room out of breath. “Dear heavens, what happened? Your arm,” Watson pointed. “Fret not, Watson, she’s all right”, Sherlock reassured him. The man had caught his gaze staring at y/n—though behind her—Severus had glared at the detective.

“Thank you for saving y/n—” sherlock tried to thank him.

“I’m not asking for your gratitude, you foolish muggle” he sneered.

The two men lived in different worlds but for one thing they had in common was their heart for y/n.

That's all I have for now:

Ta Ta✨

[argyrocratie]

"He told us that all the country would be up, for the great jubilee was to come, and we must go with 'em." These were the words of a woebegone Kentish woman whose husband was imprisoned in Canterbury for his part in the disastrous Battle of Bossenden Wood in May 1838. At the time the agricultural workers of Kent were called "white slaves." Diptheria was rampant among them; they lived in dwellings called "birdcages" — bedrooms measured 8' x 5' x 6'. Eight years earlier in the "Swing Riots" they attempted to prevent the introduction of steam-powered threshing machines. Mutinous discontent smouldered fiercely to awaken briefly in the 1838 jubilee.

Thirty or forty poor people of Kent — vagabonds, small-holders, farm laborers — led by the extraordinary Sir William Courtenay faced soldiers of the Royal Army amid the osier-beds of Bossenden Wood in a battle resulting in several casualties and utter, lamentable defeat for the Kentish rebels. The episode is treated as an example of pathetic derangement. It is true that Sir William Courtenay had been committed to a lunatic asylum and that he was an impostor (he was born John Nichols the son of a Cornish inn-keeper). He was more than six foot. He had long black hair. He was immensely strong. In 1821 he visited London and secretly joined a Spencean Society.

In 1832 he disappeared from his wife and business, and reappeared on the other side of the country in outlandish dress posing as Sir William Courtenay, Knight of Malta, King of the Gypsies, King of Jerusalem. He became a darling of the Canterbury mob, he allied himself with the smuggling community of north Kent, he stood for Parliament, and edited a newspaper. He asserted the rights of the poor against the New Poor Law, against tithes, against flogging, against the Rich. Despite his crazed grandeur, flamboyant pretensions, and mental breaks, he appealed deeply to the Kentish peasantry who were willing to risk and lose their lives for this jubilee.

The Kentish rural proletariat though close to London was in many ways exceptional — it was godless and lawless in the sense that the Established Church had made few inroads and that its customary agrarian relations largely descended from the forest economy of ancient times rather than the "Improving" enclosed agriculture. Moreoever, it was pious in strictly non-conformist meanings. Indeed, there was little singing at the parish church following the battle because most of the Hunhill Church choir was either dead or in jail. Spencean ideas "led to his hopeless attempt to overthrow the established order in Kent." The defeat in battle of this jubilee was the last time that the English Army was used in combat against the English proletariat on English soil."

-Peter Linebaugh, ”Jubilating; or, How the Atlantic Working Class Used the Biblical Jubilee Against Capitalism, With Some Success“ (1990)

[mania-sama]

rule #28 - sand

Rule #28 - Sand - Fish in a Birdcage

➼ information ❧ Genshin Impact ❧ Pairing: Venti & Xiao ❧ Tags: xiao's karmic debt, whump, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, no dialogue, canon-typical violence ❧ Summary: The day that Xiao almost died and Venti healed him via magic flute. Anonymously, of course. ❧ Word Count: 1,062 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 21 October 2023

➼ whumptober 2023 ❧ Day 21: Near Death Experience ❧ Previous Day ❧ Next Day ❧ Masterlist

Souls scream into Xiao’s ears and tear apart his skin like they were still living creatures, able to lay into him with claws, teeth, and sharp blades of stone and steel. Blood pours from a shoulder wound he has yet to heal. Dimly, he knows that he’ll never be able to heal it. His energy is depleted, and he’s barely able to drag his feet across the grasslands of Liyue. Or is it sand?

All he can focus on is the state of his body and the overbearing weight of a thousand murdered gods, their karmic debt reaping his soul with cursed blades. He sees each other their deaths clearer than the world he walks on. Xiao feels the pain they endured when he plunged his spear into their wretched, burning bodies. They scream, and he barely registers his own whimper in turn.

He stops moving when he feels a soul rip out his eyes and cry into the missing sockets. Xiao knows that, realistically, his eyes are still safe in his head. It doesn’t prevent him from yelling from the phantom pain. His arms are pulled on either side, and they rip out of place like a doll being torn.

He tries to breathe, and he places a comforting hand over his face as though it will solve all of his issues. It won’t. It never will. He continues to lose blood through the wound in his shoulder. That will never heal.

He lays flat on his back, he knows, and that is all. The remaining details of his environment become a blur to his consciousness as he loses himself in the battles of old. Each soul he has killed, each god he has put to rest, and each demon has purged comes back for revenge. Xiao knows he will die.

He has served Rex Lapis for two thousand years. As the last remaining yaksha, they have both known that his time was up long ago. The Wangshu Inn, only recently built, would have to be a regular inn. He told them they should not do it, that they should focus their efforts on helping humanity rather than a yaksha. They had ignored him and erected the inn anyway.

Through the pain of a thousand demons ripping apart his skin and chewing his bones, he wonders what it would be like if he could be on that rooftop right. Maybe he is, and he can’t recognize it. The same spear plunges into his stomach, heart, head, again and again until it’s all he can feel. This is what it’s like to die.

It’s not peaceful, but he knew life would not be as such for a creature like him. Rex Lapis warned him, and still, despite the screams and agony he endures for the hours it takes for the souls to consume his very being, he does not regret it.

If he could, he would continue his service until the world catches fire and burns all of its inhabitants in a great calamity.

Wind washes over him in a great surge. He feels it through the bashing of his skull, the twisting of his organs, and the melting of his eyes. Over the dying and wretched wails of each and every vile creature he has slain, he hears the soft, light sound of a flute.

The melody settles over him, washing away the demons one by one. It takes a thousand different notes, and it must be hours before the last shriek is drowned out by the flute. The wind rushes across his skin and blows through his hair as though it's a mother grooming her young or a father hugging his child. It wraps him in warmth, keeping his closed not in fear or exhaustion, but in protection.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this safe. Xiao is brought back to the day Rex Lapis carried his limp and vicious body from the dwelling of his old master. Perhaps that is when he last felt so warm; when he was saved from eternal torment.

Xiao feels the prickle of sand and rocks beneath his skin, and he shifts, all of his wounds from his battle having healed and completely rejuvenated. Water slides lightly against his skin. He turns his head and stares out at the shore he lies on. He doesn’t recall making it to the bank of a river. It sloshes lazily against the sides, occasionally rubbing against his body like an indecisive cat. The flute continues to play in the background, easing the phantom pains stretching across every part of his body.

He does not hear the screams of the dead gods, and he does not feel their seething fury as claws in his body. The only things he feels are the shore, the gentle rhythm of his heart, and his slow and even breathing. He only hears the flute and the river meandering in the direction of the distant ocean.

The melody continues to ring throughout the whole night, and it’s only when the sun rises to cast gentle warmth over Xiao’s skin and the birds rise in song and flight that the instrument teeters off. Xiao does not waste his thoughts trying to locate or find the source of the player who alleviated the foreign hatred and fury coursing through his veins, for he already has a halfway conclusion not worth pursuing.

Only an Archon can save a yaksha. Rex Lapis has already done so once, and the man has no ability to play the flute in such a way. At that block, Xiao ceased his line of thought. If the Archon wants recognition, he is sure they would show themselves.

Xiao stands at the end of the melody. He has been given another chance of life, and he will not dare to waste it. He finds the looming structure of the Wangshu Inn in the close distance. His feet took him in the direction of both the inn and Mondstadt, though the battle he’d fought would’ve made it easier to move toward Sumeru. He blames the odd feeling in his stomach and chest on the rejuvenation efforts from the flute, and he starts toward the Wangshu Inn.

It’s time he found a spot to survey the nation of Geo, and it just so happens that the Inn is a perfect place to start.

[authfilmalumni]

Αφιέρωμα στον Κιμ Κι-Ντουκ

Tο «κακό παιδί» του Κορεάτικου Σινεμά

Η κινηματογραφική μου εφηβεία στον δρόμο προς την ενηλικίωση ακολούθησε όλες του τις ταινίες, πότε σε αίθουσες σινεμά, πότε σε βιντεοκασέτες, dvd αργότερα και διαδίκτυο τελικά. Tελευταία, δυστυχώς, μας απασχόλησε με διάφορα σκάνδαλα, πριν τον ξαφνικό θάνατό του τον Δεκέμβριο του 2020.

Είναι περίεργο που γράφω τώρα αυτό τον «επικήδειο» για έναν απ’ τους αγαπημένους μου σκηνοθέτες, αν και είχα την ευκαιρία να του στείλω 2-3 προσωπικά γράμματα και νομίζω πως κατάφερα να του εκφράσω την άποψή μου.

Ανεξάρτητα από την προσωπική του ζωή και τα σκάνδαλα, θα ήθελα να τοποθετηθώ κινηματογραφικά για κάποιες ταινίες που θεωρώ ‘αριστουργήματα ενός φτωχού κινηματογραφιστή’. Στις κορυφαίες ταινίες του, κατ’ εμέ, συγκαταλέγονται τα: «Samaritan Girl,» «Bad Guy,» «Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring,» «3- iron» και το βραβευμένο με χρυσό λιοντάρι «Pieta,» αν και σίγουρα αδικώ αρκετές. Εν καιρώ, θα ανεβάσω και συγκεκριμένα αφιερώματα πάνω σε αυτές τις ταινίες.

Είναι ουσιώδες να πετυχαίνει ένας φτωχός κινηματογραφιστής αυτά τα κινηματογραφικά κατορθώματα, σε μια βιομηχανία που μοιάζει να μην έχει χώρο για τέτοιου είδους σινεμά. Ταινίες χειροπιαστές, που μοιάζουν να έγιναν από ένα χέρι που έψαχνε στα σκουπίδια.

Η Ευρώπη πάντως αγάπησε και υποδέχτηκε τον Κιμ Κι Ντουκ, και στα καλύτερα και στα χειρότερά του, ίσως σαν ένα παράξενο, βίαιο ζώο που της άρεσε να παρατηρεί.

Η γυναικεία φιγούρα

Οι γυναίκες (και γενικότερα οι χαρακτήρες) στο σινεμά του Κιμ Κι Ντουκ διαποτίζονται από το κορεάτικο «Χαν», δηλαδή την αίσθηση μιας βαθιάς λύπης που δεν μπορεί να ξεχαστεί.

Η γυναίκα που εμπορεύεται το σώμα της για να επιζήσει βρίσκεται πάντα στο επίκεντρο. Η Κορεάτικη κοινωνία στην οποία μεγάλωσε την θεωρεί κατώτερο ον. Ο Κιμ την φαντάζεται «φυλακισμένο πουλί,» «δαρμένο σκυλί,» «ψάρι πληγωμένο έξω απ' τα νερά του.»

Η ηρωίδα - γυναίκα στον κόσμο του Κιμ θα περάσει απ' όλα τα στάδια του πόνου πριν την τελική της λύτρωση. Θα βυθιστεί στον πάτο της θάλασσας, θα βρεθεί εγκλωβισμένη μέσα στο ίδιο της το κλουβί και.. σαν ψάρι, θα τεμαχιστεί άγρια πριν ξαναριχτεί στη θάλασσα για να μάθει να συνεχίσει να κολυμπάει..

Η επίκληση μιας 'συναισθηματικής ζώνης αποκλεισμού', μιας νεκρής ζώνης, χωρίς αισθήσεις και παραισθήσεις, είναι σίγουρα ένα δύσκολο κινηματογραφικό εγχείρημα.

Το status quo μιας πόρνης έχει μία μη ρεαλιστική, μεταφυσική διάσταση και αποτελεί παράδειγμα, ένα πρότυπο ζωής.

Το «The Isle» είναι η πρώτη ταινία που έκανε τον Kim Ki-duk διεθνώς γνωστό το 1999. Αυτή η ταινία, όπως και η προηγούμενη, το «Birdcage Inn,» ασχολείται ιδιαιτέρως με την πορνεία. Μοιραία, το θέμα αυτό απασχόλησε τον Kim Ki-duk σε όλη την φιλμογραφία του.

Η άσκηση αυτού του επαγγέλματος ως αυτοτιμωρία της ύπαρξης, ως συνεχής θυσία προς τον ‘Άλλο’ είναι ένα πρακτικό σύστημα ταπείνωσης που βοηθά τη γυναίκα να εκπληρώσει μία αποστολή στη ζωή της, εκεί που μοιάζει να μην υπάρχει κανένας άλλος δρόμος.

Το σεξ, στον κόσμο του Kim Ki-Duk, υπονοεί τον άγριο κόσμο των ενστίκτων, τον βαθμό μηδέν του ανθρώπινου πολιτισμού, ένα ιδιαίτερο σύστημα αξιών που θάφτηκε κάτω από μία δομημένη ιεραρχικά κοινωνία. Σ’ αυτό το σύστημα αξιών η έκφραση του συναισθήματος δεν υπακούει σε κανέναν ορθολογισμό. Η σεξουαλική πράξη απογυμνώνει και επιτρέπει να έρθει στην επιφάνεια το αντιφατικό πρόσωπο του ανθρώπου: δυνάστης και δυναστευμένος, θύτης και θύμα.

Παρ’ ότι το ενστικτώδες που κυριαρχεί στους κόσμους του, ο Κιμ Κι Ντουκ εγκιβωτίζει και τον ρομαντισμό. Στον ρομαντισμό εμπλέκεται όμως ο πόνος και έτσι ξεκινά μία μεγάλη πάλη... Όταν η πάλη τελειώσει, μία καρμικά ισορροπημένη, βουδιστική, ουδέτερη λύση βρίσκει πάντα τον δρόμο της στο κινηματογραφικό σύμπαν του Κιμ Κι-Ντουκ.

Θεωρώ τον Κιμ Κι-Ντουκ έναν ρεαλιστή, πραγματιστή σκηνοθέτη του παλιού-νέο κορεατικού κύματος, με νεοφεμινιστικές προσεγγίσεις, ερευνητή των αιτιών του ανθρωπίνου πόνου.

Ο Κιμ Κι-Ντουκ αγάπησε πολύ το σινεμά. Έγινε ένας κινηματογραφιστής ταγμένος στους λάτρεις του art-house κινηματογράφου και προσπάθησε πολύ να μην τους απογοητεύει. Υπήρξαν στιγμές που μας απογοήτευσε, υπήρξαν στιγμές που μας κέρδισε πάλι.

Όπως στη ζωή, έτσι και στις ταινίες του, ο Kim Ki-Duk ως ακραίος κινηματογραφικός Σίσυφος, με μια πέτρα καρφωμένη στο πλευρό του σκαρφαλώνει τον δικό του Γολγοθά. Ένα Γολγοθά δύσκολων κινηματογραφικών εγχειρημάτων που, κατά καιρούς, σκαρφάλωναν μαζί του, για όσο το άντεχαν, και όλοι αυτοί που τον ακολουθούσαν.

Στο τέλος, πάντως, έμεινε μόνος.

Ολοκληρώνοντας τον δικό του κύκλο αποφάσεων και μαθηματικών σημείων, πέτυχε να δημιουργήσει ένα σύμπαν, το οποίο, δυστυχώς, θα συνεχίζει να μας αφορά, όσο θα υπάρχουν κοινωνίες και άνθρωποι που αρνούνται να κοιτάξουν εμπρός στον καθρέπτη της δικής τους καθημερινής πραγματικότητας.

(Κείμενο: Γιώργος Λουριδάς, σκηνοθέτης)

[bleubcrries]

@inexorcble

Harry felt the heat of embarrassment warming her cheeks as a very handsome stranger came into view, and she let her long chocolate hair fall over her face as she looked back down to scoop the screws into a small pile. A bemused smile graces her lips as she looks up at him once again. Over the past months of living in her disheveled little inn, Harry had been too busy demolishing and rebuilding everything on the property, whether she was learning to build a fence or harvesting wild onions or eating dinner in the light of every candle she could find; she was glued to that inn. And, of course, the hardware store. The only friends she'd made were her new neighbors Janet and Yvonne, a married couple who were very generous in sharing their knowledge of home-repair. And while she'd spent a good amount of time with them, she still felt like a fish out of water at the prospect of charming small talk for the first time in... god knows how long. "I'm fully on board with blaming Tony. He managed to talk his shortest customer into buying his most expensive drill, and yet still had the audacity to keep the screws on his highest hooks." Pouring a hand full of screws back into the partially-busted container, Harry claps any possible dust off of her hands, and extends the right one out to the knight in shining armor before her. "I'm Harry. I just bought the old Birdcage Inn, down on Alford. You're from around here, I assume?"

Asher was positive something was stealing his wrenches. The 7/16th to be specific. He wasn't sure why he kept buying it but the empty space that it was meant to occupy frustrated him more than he would even admit. But this meant that Tony at the hardware store could laugh at him whenever he walked to the counter with only that in his hand. And unfortunately that day wasn't an exception, there were no other supplies that he needed. His mental preparation to face one of his dearest friend's lighthearted ribbing was interrupted by an explosion a few miles over. Once he assessed that no one was dying, Asher relaxed. "It's fine Tony, I got it!" He called as he heard the store owner approaching. "I once knocked over a giant display of light bulb boxes. As in that situation, it's truly Tony's fault for putting the thing you needed so high up." He knelt and began helping her clean up.

@bleubcrries

[a-pint-of-j-and-b]

Birdcage Inn | 1998 | Kim Ki-duk | South Korea

[izimbracreenshots]

Birdcage Inn by Kim Ki-Duk, 1998

[requiemformarion]

it was mine and i cried with the sky in my eyes for some time the present breathed inside me again if i wake her will it be comme un coup bref que je frappais sur la porte du hier

[mtonino]

Side by Side

Kim Ki-duk

Birdcage Inn (1998)

Samaritan Girl (2004)

1. Birdcage Inn (1998)

2. Samaritan girl (2004)

[ghxstadvxntxres]

GHOST ADVENTURES SEASON 2 (June 5, 2009—July 24, 2009)

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Month of New Operatic Works #13: La gazza ladra (La Scala, 2017): Reactions, Part I

ossia “The Operatic Version of Untitled Goose Game except it’s a magpie”

omg we have a little puppet theater

okay these are a bit creepy

also this overture slaps

and there’s la gazza ladra!

WHOA

It’s a lovely day in the village and you are a horrible magpie.

enter adorable trouser role @monotonous-minutia​

Magpie doin’ its annoying little schtick (that’s so far very cute and impressive actually)

another great production aesthetic

certainly nothing bad :) that would be impossible :)

hahahahaha

Pippo’s expressions omg

so the town folk have apparently just made the magpie into their own 1800s meme lol

and the puppets are just gonna be A Thing

totally not a significant plot point :)

THERE SHE IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS

“hmm, how can I cause problems here???”

I adore Rosa Feola (if you haven’t seen her as Norina, please do ASAP)

the magpie gave her a gauzy wedding veil/shawl thing lol

brava!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hey Lucia be nice

nice setup you’ve got there

“I think I will cause problems on purpose”

buddies!!!

Area Tenor Has Arrived On The Scene

the local puppeteer ships it

sad Pippo :(

“my SON??? kissing my SERVANT GIRL??? I DON’T THINK SO”

Serena Malfi why do you do this to me

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

oh child

this bops

please look at Pippo and Ninetta in the back

well that wasn’t very cash money of that captain

that escalated quickly

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

great now leave because the mayor is right there

MICHELE!!!!!!!!! (I love Michele Pertusi)

great this is a Creepy Bass Role

omg the magpie took the mayor’s glasses

“I’m very thirsty, too...” *sighs and shakes head*

the magpie just brought in a dude to cockblock the mayor so I’m just gonna go with “the magpie just wants to do unusual things and create chaos regardless of whether or not it is good or bad”

well oops

the magpie: “haha I did that”

the magpie is just Pure Chaotic Energy

the Boris Godunov inn scene just copied from this huh

this is so pretty and these three are all so talented

he literally shut himself in a giant birdcage with her wtf you douchebag

YEAH go OFF Fernando!!!!

problem: caused

oh child

and the sale is made!

you two :) such good friends

oh no

that is such a bad mustache

that’s a bit excessive

oh come on

oops

Pippo is messing with the notary lol

poor child is just trying to Vibe and be a good friend

douchebag

thanks for snitching :/

annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd Tenor Boy immediately thinks she’s guilty

tfw your dad and your employer have the same initials

Obligatory Lovely Rossinian Ensemble Of Confusion And Conflicting Feelings

OH NO

POOR NINETTA

and Pippo tried to rescue her :(

[gianssnow]

Top e flop 2020

Questo pezzo non riguarderà i film usciti nelle sale nel 2020 (anche perché ne ho visti molto pochi, non un campione attendibile), ma i film che ho visionato personalmente nell’anno appena trascorso. Di conseguenza ci saranno film di tutti i tempi, di tutte le nazioni, di tutte le colorazioni, di tutte le tipologie di suono, muti, sonori o musicali e chi più ne ha più ne metta. Questi sono solo una piccola parte dei film guardati, i migliori e i peggiori. Sarà insomma un compendio di consigli e sconsigli, con la garanzia che il sottoscritto è sempre dalla parte del pubblico e detesta i film barbosissimi che ricevono i magnificat della critica parruccona e dormiente. Lista dedicata al mio Maestro Massimo Bertarelli.

I migliori (10 e lode):

Family Life

La ragazza con la valigia

I grandissimi (voto 10)

I vitelloni

La sposa in nero

Hana-bi

Il pianeta delle scimmie

Il sorpasso

Umberto D.

La caccia

Un uomo da marciapiede

Miseria e nobiltà

C’eravamo tanto amati

Un volto nella folla

Un mercoledì da leoni

Wargames 

Questo pazzo, pazzo, pazzo, pazzo mondo 

Rosemary’s Baby

I notevoli (voto 9)

I visitatori 

Furia

Cimitero senza croci

Orgasmo

Harvey

Aguirre furore di Dio

A prova di errore

La guerra dei mondi (1953)

Kapò

Il texano dagli occhi di ghiaccio

Dancer in the Dark

La grande bellezza

Guardie e ladri

Odio implacabile

Re per una notte

Alba fatale

La mia vita da zucchina

Rocco e i suoi fratelli

La corazzata Potemkin

Francesco, giullare di Dio

Gli orrori del liceo femminile

After Life

Il romanzo di Mildred

Notte senza fine

Il capitalista

La notte di San Lorenzo

Non si uccidono così anche i cavalli?

La storia di una monaca

Reazione a catena

Bassa marea

Parole, parole, parole...

Arriva John Doe!

Domenica d’agosto

Il tempo del raccolto del grano

The Nice Guys

Bugsy

El Cid

Tutti a casa

Reality

La marcia su Roma

Ultimo domicilio conosciuto

La collina del disonore

Manhunter 

Leon Morin, prete 

Spider Baby 

I soliti ignoti

Toy Story 4 

Milano odia: la polizia non può sparare 

Ragazze interrotte 

20.000 leghe sotto i mari 

Blood Diamond 

Il cattivo tenente

8 1/2 

L’ultima eclissi

Chicago

Nessuno lo sa

Un mondo perfetto

Sette notte in nero

Le vie della violenza

L’ultima risata

I tartassati

Piccole volpi

Nazarin

I guerrieri della notte

Il ritratto di Jennie

Testimone d’accusa

I discutibili (voto 5)

Birdcage Inn

Ballando con uno sconosciuto

L’ora più buia

Per favore, non mordermi sul collo!

Il conte di Essex

Donne in attesa

Tokyo Fist

Gozu

Il grande inquisitore

Mariti

Porcile

Dark City

Ashes of Time

La notte dei serpenti 

Le parole che non ti ho detto

Un americano a Parigi 

Linea mortale

Una lunga domenica di passioni

Zona di guerra

Elizabeth

Le porcherie (voto 0-4)

I visitatori 2: Ritorno al passato

Conoscenza carnale

Midsommar 

Cronos

La terza parte della notte

Utamaro e le sue cinque mogli

Lo specchio

American Beauty

Il serpente di fuoco

Gli amori di una bionda

Lo spirito dell’alveare

Room

Burning - L’amore brucia

I diavoli

The Endless

Before Midnight

Borat

Mind Game

Tempesta di ghiaccio

Cuore selvaggio

L’elemento del crimine

Valhalla Rising

Giochi nell’acqua

Nel corso del tempo

Racconto di Natale

Lion - La strada verso casa

Yi yi - E uno... e due!

[pynkhues]

I love everything you write but I’m really excited and anxious to see how the end of Cross Your Fingers plays out. Any update for when we might get the next chapter? :)

Thank you so much, anon! Really soon hopefully! Maybe even tonight? You can have the opening scene of the chapter if you’d like. 

Below a cut in case people don’t want spoilers. :-) 

“Breathe.”

And god - - it’s not like she isn’t trying to.

Beth’s foot hits the floor of Dags’ car hard, her body twisting in the passenger seat as she gasps for breath, every shallow inhale like a trickle when she wants to drown. Wants her lungs full, her body sunk just low enough the ground firms below her, gives her something to kick off. Wants to look at her hands and see them pushing up, wants to see them cut through this moment and break the surface. Wants the lights flickering behind her eyes to give.

“Fuck.”

The word cuts through her thoughts, sharper than the instruction had, and she hears more than sees the shift of Dags’ ass on the leather seat of his car. Hears the way his belt catches, the way his thick shoulder presses a groove into the firm, black fabric. Hears his own exhale, long and low.

“You gotta pull yourself together,” he tells her, voice firm, leaving no room for argument, and Beth lets her eyes clench shut, her mouth open, panting practically now. “You gotta breathe. You don’t, you’re outta this car and I’m calling Sling to come pick you up. You want him leaving your kids? Your sister?”

Which - - no. God, no, Beth shakes her head frantically, her lungs burning, trying to force herself to breathe.

The thing is, she’d been okay in the house.

She’d been okay watching Dominic gasp against those sheets, writhing in the bed like a rat caught in a trap, the twitching muscle spasms of a body trying to catch its own life before rigor mortis set its final shape. She’d seen the colour in his cheeks swell red then fade grey, seen – as silly, and cliché as it sounded – the light flicker out.

It had been quick after that. Dags nodding, tilting his head out, and Beth had followed numbly, passing through as if in a dream, ignoring Slater’s loaded look as he watched them go. Then they’d gotten into Dags’ car, driven a few miles towards the border, and her hands had started to shake, and - - well.

They’re pulled over now, Dags’ hand suddenly moving to undo her seatbelt, then find her back, pushing down on it until her head hangs between her legs, the blood rushing into it, sounding like a tidal wave between her ears, and is this the surface?

Is this where she breaks through?

“Breathe, Elizabeth.”

And it’s Dags who says it, but it’s not his voice she hears.

Kincardine.

Maple Leaf Inn.

Near the water.

The thought makes her shudder in a breath, something that aches, that feels too big for her chest. Balloons there, breaking her ribs to open her up. She clenches her fingers at her knees, feels the sleepy numbness of them harden almost painfully. Twisting them, she presses her nails into herself, feels them through the denim, the buffered sharpness at her skin.

She killed a man.

Kincardine.

Maple Leaf Inn.

Near the water.

She killed a man and she turned out his lights and she shot him too, not Dominic, but him, left him for dead. Didn’t see the colour fade from him, not the way she saw Dominic’s, saw it pour out of him instead, out of his mouth, out of his chest, saw Turner there, moving to stand over him, above him and - -

Kincardine.

Maple Leaf Inn.

Near the water.

He didn’t die though. Not then, and she wouldn’t - - couldn’t - - let it happen this time either. She opens her mouth, sucks in a breath too deep, coughs on it, before she swallows thickly, pressing her wet tongue to the roof of her dry mouth, feeling her heart start to slow. Annie had been the one to tear those words from her, and Beth hadn’t known she’d felt them until they’d run the gauntlet through her and out of her – the starting line not anywhere so romantic as her chest – fluttering out of the fragile birdcage of her heart – but rather from the twisted labyrinth of her gut. The simple, stupid truth of it weathering all the traps and riddles she set upon it, the monsters she released to tear it apart or swallow it whole.

But there it was, the bruised, naked, tired reality of it.

She couldn’t lose him again.

Kincardine.

Maple Leaf Inn.

Near the water.

Beth sits up slowly, sniffs, rubs a trembling hand at her nose, swiping at where a tear had managed to escape her too, and god, she feels like she’s coming apart, and she can’t, she’s got to - - got to - -

A crinkled, plastic water bottle is suddenly presented to her, and Beth turns, wide eyed to see Dags staring back at her. He wiggles the bottle slightly, and Beth takes it, uncapping it, drinking from it. The cool water slips down her aching throat, and it’s enough to ground her. To let her hear the thrum of the traffic on the road beside them, see the sprawling afternoon light blink off car hoods, smell the faint scent of ash on Dags’ collar, the even fainter musk of his aftershave.

To feel herself.

Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, her body heavy, somehow stiff with exhaustion and twitching with adrenaline and - - and - -

Kincardine.

Maple Leaf Inn.

Near the water.

Dags re-starts the engine.