sae

@ComSaemegurno

映画、音楽、写真、料理、散歩。インド映画は、主に南インド映画が好きです。 ※無言フォロー失礼します

日本

Joined March 2014

327 Following

41 Followers

612 Posts

ComSaemegurno retweeted

ショウゲート映画公式 @showgate_youga

9 days ago

════════════════ #落下の王国 4Kデジタルリマスター 👑1周年記念1週間限定上映決定👑 ════════════════ 📅上映期間 12/4(金)～10(木)※1週間限定 🎥上映劇場1⃣ ✦Bunkamuraル・シネマ渋谷宮下@BunkamuraCinema ✦グランドシネマサンシャイン池袋@cs_ikebukuro

showgate_youga's tweet photo. ════════════════
#落下の王国 4Kデジタルリマスター
👑1周年記念1週間限定上映決定👑
════════════════

📅上映期間
12/4(金)～10(木)※1週間限定

🎥上映劇場1⃣
✦Bunkamuraル・シネマ渋谷宮下@BunkamuraCinema
✦グランドシネマサンシャイン池袋@cs_ikebukuro https://t.co/ybjWqY5w0k

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

U-zhaan（ユザーン）

@u_zhaan

15 days ago

ミラノに来ている。オーナーの「家庭的な雰囲気の店にしたいんだ」という気持ちが強すぎるのか店内に洗濯物が装飾として干されまくっている店で、タオルやパンツを見つめながら夕食を食べた。味は非常においしかった。

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

遠藤美加子 @boydalan279

20 days ago

【拡散希望】福田康夫元首相『絶対に日本は戦争をする国にはなりたくないという意思表示を常々していかなければいけない国です』福田元総理の言葉―本当にありがたかったです相手を煽って煽って、謝罪も努力もしない高市政権の幼稚さが、もの凄いスピードで日本の国益を損ねている内閣総辞職が希望

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

Netflix Japan | ネットフリックス

@NetflixJP

22 days ago

映画『落下の王国 4Kデジタルリマスター』 11月21日Netflix配信決定！ 13の世界遺産、 24ヵ国以上のロケーションで 4年もの歳月をかけて撮影された目も眩むほどに美しい映像世界。 17年の時を超えて 4Kデジタルリマスターで蘇る。 #落下の王国 #THEFALL

NetflixJP's tweet photo. 映画『落下の王国 4Kデジタルリマスター』
11月21日Netflix配信決定！

13の世界遺産、
24ヵ国以上のロケーションで
4年もの歳月をかけて撮影された
目も眩むほどに美しい映像世界。

17年の時を超えて
4Kデジタルリマスターで蘇る。

#落下の王国 #THEFALL https://t.co/tocTh0ra49

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Who to follow

アニイマイ

@imasumi826

T's joint strokesのベースやってます。よろしくお願いします🙋‍♂️

ねこ

@nekomeisou

魂の遊び場、実験場この発言は私にしか効き目がありませんのよ

ななななな

@yoipparinco

ひとりごと垂れ流し

ComSaemegurno retweeted

毬谷友子 🕊 TOMOKO MARIYA

@mariyatomoko

about 1 month ago

何日もお風呂に入れない熊本の被災者の方達は、この発言をどう思うだろうか。。別に化粧しなくても風呂は1日2回も入らなくていいので。国民のために仕事をしてほしい。 https://t.co/vN6zy1kAOm

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

映画『さとこはいつも』公式

@satoko_movie

about 1 month ago

✎ᝰ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 【緊急決定第二弾‼️】釜山国際映画祭凱旋！姫野花春さんティーチイン付き上映開催決定 🗣️ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ 釜山国際映画祭から帰国直後の姫野花春さんが皆様からのご質問に答えます！ 🐦 10/17（土）9:45の回（上映後） 📍アップリンク吉祥寺 @uplink_joji 🐦 10/17（土）12:30の回（上映後） 📍池袋シネマ・ロサ @Cinema_ROSA 🎙️ 登壇者 #姫野花春さん 🎫 チケット販売各劇場オンライン・窓口にて販売いたします。 ✍️更に、各劇場では姫野さんによるサイン会も実施予定！（＊劇場パンフレットのみ） ▼ 詳細はこちら https://t.co/mpkgkSMPcm 皆さまのご来場お待ちしております✨ 映画『#さとこはいつも』 🎬全国公開中！

satoko_movie's tweet photo. ✎ᝰ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓

【緊急決定第二弾‼️】
釜山国際映画祭凱旋！姫野花春さん
ティーチイン付き上映開催決定 🗣️
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

釜山国際映画祭から帰国直後の
姫野花春さんが皆様からのご質問に答えます！

🐦 10/17（土）9:45の回（上映後）
📍アップリンク吉祥寺 @uplink_joji

🐦 10/17（土）12:30の回（上映後）
📍池袋シネマ・ロサ @Cinema_ROSA

🎙️ 登壇者
#姫野花春さん

🎫 チケット販売
各劇場オンライン・窓口にて販売いたします。

✍️更に、各劇場では姫野さんによる
サイン会も実施予定！
（＊劇場パンフレットのみ）

▼ 詳細はこちら
https://t.co/mpkgkSMPcm

皆さまのご来場お待ちしております✨

映画『#さとこはいつも』
🎬全国公開中！

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

Sudhir Srinivasan

@sudhirsrinivasn

about 1 month ago

Mannnyyyy, mannnyyy thoughts on #Baththa (possible spoilers, as always): _____ Baththa, played by Vijay Sethupathi, is a frightening gangster. He is driven by ego, and no threat scares him. At home, he casually slaps his wife, throws a plate full of food, yells at his daughter. And he seems to be getting away with everything. So, you really wonder who's gonna put him in his place. Balaji Tharaneetharan's film hints that an assassination attempt is on the cards. But as it turns out, Baththa's most dangerous adversary is not a gangster, not some man who defeats him in size and strength. Instead, it's the opposite. His reckoning comes in the form of a little, meek boy. Baththa is full of such gorgeous ideas. The tender beauty of a child’s innocence serving as a mirror to such a gangster feels almost like a 'pure cinema' idea. For an entire half, Baththa is stuck in a school toilet, isolated and unable to get out. The premise seems almost like it might potentially get a bit too indulgent, a bit too static, maybe test your patience a bit. But Balaji's Baththa is magnificently kinetic. And I think it's because Baththa is so cleverly written. It's got all these suspense lifelines that power the whole film: Will Sabari ever open the toilet door? Once you get the answer to that, will Sabari ever confess to Baththa? Once that gets answered, there’s another question waiting: Why did Baththa even enter this isolated toilet in the first place? The beauty of Baththa is how it comes with such heartwarming moving answers to each question. And it shows such mastery over how long to keep the suspense alive and when to provide you with the answer. There are all these deep, psychological undertones that make this film feel so wise, and yet, so simple. The loss of innocence. The impact of bullying. The origin of malice. Baththa is about all of that, but the film is loving enough to remember that every adult was once a boy, perhaps still is. When Baththa has a moment with little Sabari, he reminisces, “I was also like you at one point.” And it's beautifully cyclical that the innocence, goodness, call it what you will, can only be regained when in the presence of a pure life form. Like in Meiyazhagan. Here, of course, it's a little boy. I love it when films like Baththa allow for many metaphorical readings organically. That gorgeous shot of Baththa peeking out through a tiny hole in the toilet door says so much beyond words. The toilet itself feels like the stinking prison that his life seems to have become. Can Baththa find it in him to escape it? And I love that this film does it by asking an essential, but too-often ignored question. In a world where adults are constantly obsessed with teaching children, can they take a step back, and instead, learn? It feels like all of us were born perfect, and the world somehow made us lose our way. I was astonished at how Balaji Tharaneetharan strikes a balance between humour and poignant emotion. The humour is sometimes in repetition (“Nee yenda school toilet-ku pona?”), but it’s also in Vijay Sethupathi’s expressions as he suffers. He’s tremendous in this film, particularly in the way he channels vulnerability, and in how quickly, he turns that into dry humour. Watch him beg for poignantly freedom, bringing up his daughter and wife. I cried. And then, almost immediately, I laughed as the film focusses on the abusrdity of a paper full of porai being pushed towards him from under the door. The police may not ever get to arrest Baththa for his crimes, but does it matter? This film, and the ingenious situation it throws Baththa in, ensures that he suffers a solitary-confinement sentence that breaks and reforms him in a way. Think about it. His food gets sent under a door. The little warden turns up once in a while. Baththa's freedom is curtailed by a door he cannot easily break. Right in the beginning, you see that his power means nothing. The man who cannot be contained by rivals, police or even family, is contained by a huge toilet, and more importantly, by the terror of a child. The irony is, if Baththa had asked nicely, he would never have had to suffer. There’s something else the film keeps returning to: the catharsis offered by a family. Almost everyone here seems to be motivated by one. A gangster becomes a villain because he was beaten up in the presence of his family. A little boy is frightened because he thinks his mistake might result in his parents being murdered. Baththa bargains for freedom by invoking his wife and daughter. So, it's quite fitting that a family function eventually becomes the setting in which gangsters heal. It all reminded me of a line from a Sai Abhyankkar song: “Karunaye kudumbama theriyudha?�� We've seen so many films where the hero saves a family. In Baththa, a family saves the hero. And I thought this all connected beautifully to the film’s idea of courage. Is courage beating people up? Is it inspiring fear? For a while, you’re wondering what Baththa thinks of Sabari’s father, because the man is presented as docile. Sabari’s mother even tells the boy, almost as a complaint, that he’s behaving exactly like his father. Yet this supposedly meek man, even at the cost of what the world might perceive as emasculation, performs a tremendous act of kindness. Baththa is shocked. Here is a man seemingly without power doing something the all-powerful gangster could not comprehend. But the film’s greatest act of courage comes, fittingly, not from any of these men. It comes from the boy. At risk to himself, fearing mortal danger to his family, terrified of what might happen next, this little boy still ventures into the dark every day to face a monster. And at one point, the boy even releases the monster. He does this despite believing that he might get killed. It's the kind of courage adults are rarely capable of. And yet, it comes so naturally for this boy. I was truly wowed and moved. It’s such a cleverly written film too. It shows you a snake and creates the expectation that surely the snake is going to do something. Instead, something else happens. Balaji Tharaneetharan ensures that there simply isn’t a dull moment here. Even when Baththa and the boy go shopping for a family function (exactly the sort of stretch in which you could forgive a film for taking a breather and throwing in a generic montage), it’s still channelling humour. It’s still finding little ways to establish the period, with talk of ‘safari suits’, for instance. And the boy, Sai Prithviraj, is so good. You realise it particularly after he finally sheds that frightened-boy expression and begins to smile. It really feels like a dam finally allowing water to flow. I was a real goner during his confession, as he tears up and chokes and then slowly finds the confidence to keep going with his story. I also loved Lijomol Jose as Baththa’s wife, particularly in that scene after he returns home and begins eating her food. She doesn’t react with joy. At first, she looks almost like she isn’t sure whether what she’s seeing is really happening. Is this really the same man? And then, when she finally allows herself to believe it, she begins throwing in more and more spoonfuls of chutney. And that's enough. And then, just when I thought that everything seemed resolved and all tensions had eased, this gorgeous film somehow finds more oxygen. Because what needed to be saved wasn't just Baththa, but the origins of his pain. And so, you get this moment where there's an audience, and after a while, you can see that Balaji Tharaneetharan has set up the film in a way that it's gonna end up with a whole group of people clapping. But the difference Baththa has with other films is, here, we also become Baththa's audience. The clapping, then, happened organically for me because the film understands that what really moves us, what truly saves us, isn't talent or power. It's far simpler and almost cliche: genuine wide-eyed love for another. I think that's what I felt for Baththa, as I walked out of the theatre wiping my eyes.

sudhirsrinivasn's tweet photo. Mannnyyyy, mannnyyy thoughts on #Baththa (possible spoilers, as always):
_____

Baththa, played by Vijay Sethupathi, is a frightening gangster. He is driven by ego, and no threat scares him. At home, he casually slaps his wife, throws a plate full of food, yells at his daughter. And he seems to be getting away with everything. So, you really wonder who's gonna put him in his place. Balaji Tharaneetharan's film hints that an assassination attempt is on the cards. But as it turns out, Baththa's most dangerous adversary is not a gangster, not some man who defeats him in size and strength. Instead, it's the opposite. His reckoning comes in the form of a little, meek boy.

Baththa is full of such gorgeous ideas. The tender beauty of a child’s innocence serving as a mirror to such a gangster feels almost like a 'pure cinema' idea. For an entire half, Baththa is stuck in a school toilet, isolated and unable to get out. The premise seems almost like it might potentially get a bit too indulgent, a bit too static, maybe test your patience a bit. But Balaji's Baththa is magnificently kinetic.

And I think it's because Baththa is so cleverly written. It's got all these suspense lifelines that power the whole film: Will Sabari ever open the toilet door? Once you get the answer to that, will Sabari ever confess to Baththa? Once that gets answered, there’s another question waiting: Why did Baththa even enter this isolated toilet in the first place? The beauty of Baththa is how it comes with such heartwarming moving answers to each question. And it shows such mastery over how long to keep the suspense alive and when to provide you with the answer.

There are all these deep, psychological undertones that make this film feel so wise, and yet, so simple. The loss of innocence. The impact of bullying. The origin of malice. Baththa is about all of that, but the film is loving enough to remember that every adult was once a boy, perhaps still is. When Baththa has a moment with little Sabari, he reminisces, “I was also like you at one point.” And it's beautifully cyclical that the innocence, goodness, call it what you will, can only be regained when in the presence of a pure life form. Like in Meiyazhagan. Here, of course, it's a little boy.

I love it when films like Baththa allow for many metaphorical readings organically. That gorgeous shot of Baththa peeking out through a tiny hole in the toilet door says so much beyond words. The toilet itself feels like the stinking prison that his life seems to have become. Can Baththa find it in him to escape it? And I love that this film does it by asking an essential, but too-often ignored question. In a world where adults are constantly obsessed with teaching children, can they take a step back, and instead, learn? It feels like all of us were born perfect, and the world somehow made us lose our way.

I was astonished at how Balaji Tharaneetharan strikes a balance between humour and poignant emotion. The humour is sometimes in repetition (“Nee yenda school toilet-ku pona?”), but it’s also in Vijay Sethupathi’s expressions as he suffers. He’s tremendous in this film, particularly in the way he channels vulnerability, and in how quickly, he turns that into dry humour. Watch him beg for poignantly freedom, bringing up his daughter and wife. I cried. And then, almost immediately, I laughed as the film focusses on the abusrdity of a paper full of porai being pushed towards him from under the door.

The police may not ever get to arrest Baththa for his crimes, but does it matter? This film, and the ingenious situation it throws Baththa in, ensures that he suffers a solitary-confinement sentence that breaks and reforms him in a way. Think about it. His food gets sent under a door. The little warden turns up once in a while. Baththa's freedom is curtailed by a door he cannot easily break. Right in the beginning, you see that his power means nothing. The man who cannot be contained by rivals, police or even family, is contained by a huge toilet, and more importantly, by the terror of a child. The irony is, if Baththa had asked nicely, he would never have had to suffer.

There’s something else the film keeps returning to: the catharsis offered by a family. Almost everyone here seems to be motivated by one. A gangster becomes a villain because he was beaten up in the presence of his family. A little boy is frightened because he thinks his mistake might result in his parents being murdered. Baththa bargains for freedom by invoking his wife and daughter. So, it's quite fitting that a family function eventually becomes the setting in which gangsters heal. It all reminded me of a line from a Sai Abhyankkar song: “Karunaye kudumbama theriyudha?�� We've seen so many films where the hero saves a family. In Baththa, a family saves the hero.

And I thought this all connected beautifully to the film’s idea of courage. Is courage beating people up? Is it inspiring fear? For a while, you’re wondering what Baththa thinks of Sabari’s father, because the man is presented as docile. Sabari’s mother even tells the boy, almost as a complaint, that he’s behaving exactly like his father. Yet this supposedly meek man, even at the cost of what the world might perceive as emasculation, performs a tremendous act of kindness. Baththa is shocked. Here is a man seemingly without power doing something the all-powerful gangster could not comprehend.

But the film’s greatest act of courage comes, fittingly, not from any of these men. It comes from the boy. At risk to himself, fearing mortal danger to his family, terrified of what might happen next, this little boy still ventures into the dark every day to face a monster. And at one point, the boy even releases the monster. He does this despite believing that he might get killed. It's the kind of courage adults are rarely capable of. And yet, it comes so naturally for this boy. I was truly wowed and moved.

It’s such a cleverly written film too. It shows you a snake and creates the expectation that surely the snake is going to do something. Instead, something else happens. Balaji Tharaneetharan ensures that there simply isn’t a dull moment here. Even when Baththa and the boy go shopping for a family function (exactly the sort of stretch in which you could forgive a film for taking a breather and throwing in a generic montage), it’s still channelling humour. It’s still finding little ways to establish the period, with talk of ‘safari suits’, for instance.

And the boy, Sai Prithviraj, is so good. You realise it particularly after he finally sheds that frightened-boy expression and begins to smile. It really feels like a dam finally allowing water to flow. I was a real goner during his confession, as he tears up and chokes and then slowly finds the confidence to keep going with his story. I also loved Lijomol Jose as Baththa’s wife, particularly in that scene after he returns home and begins eating her food. She doesn’t react with joy. At first, she looks almost like she isn’t sure whether what she’s seeing is really happening. Is this really the same man? And then, when she finally allows herself to believe it, she begins throwing in more and more spoonfuls of chutney. And that's enough.

And then, just when I thought that everything seemed resolved and all tensions had eased, this gorgeous film somehow finds more oxygen. Because what needed to be saved wasn't just Baththa, but the origins of his pain. And so, you get this moment where there's an audience, and after a while, you can see that Balaji Tharaneetharan has set up the film in a way that it's gonna end up with a whole group of people clapping. But the difference Baththa has with other films is, here, we also become Baththa's audience. The clapping, then, happened organically for me because the film understands that what really moves us, what truly saves us, isn't talent or power. It's far simpler and almost cliche: genuine wide-eyed love for another. I think that's what I felt for Baththa, as I walked out of the theatre wiping my eyes.

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

SPACEBOX

@spaceboxmovie

about 2 months ago

Date fixed for #Baththa Tokyo area show: Sat 03 Oct/ 4pm Venue: SKIP City Visual Plaza Bookings will be open soon 💥

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sae @ComSaemegurno

about 2 months ago · Hatogaya City

@ride333 😍😍😍

ComSaemegurno retweeted

99％の下の方

@SM1651

2 months ago

私のこのアカウントは、これを投稿して一度凍結されました。誰か嫌がっている勢力が通報して止めさせたようです。異議申し立てをして復活しました。嫌がっている相手は分かります。彼らが嫌がっているならば拡散させましょう

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

曽我部恵一 @sokabekeiichi

2 months ago

テレビ朝日グッドモーニングにてお茶の間にお邪魔しました🙄 （音楽関係ではまったくなく、近所でアライグマを発見したおじさんとして🦝）

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

メル子 @merukomeruko

2 months ago

この令和の、AIが作成する情報過多なイラストにちょっとうんざりしてしまう時代に、あえて90年代のWordテイストでいてくれる、藤井風と阿部寛、あまりにも安心感ww

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

わらいぬ（a.k.a. 芻狗）

@justastrawdog

2 months ago

このニュース見落としていたけど、とんでもないこと書いてあった。「内閣広報室の経費として２６年度の１０倍超の７２億円を要求」今年度の内閣広報室の予算が前年度から3億増額の7億円と話題になったけど、来年度はその10倍だと。プロパガンダやりまくる気だ。 https://t.co/g1iPeh9POE

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

Roberto Aragão

@roberto_aragao

2 months ago

Era pra ser só uma apresentação na escola mas baixou um John Bonham no menino e esse foi o resultado. 😅

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

SHIHO @NmWhjk

2 months ago

気持ち悪い高市早苗新しい戦いかたって何？日本は戦争を二度としないんですよ平和外交をしろ

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ComSaemegurno retweeted

CDB＠初書籍発売中！

@C4Dbeginner

2 months ago

高市総理が「食料安全保障は、食糧自給率１００％を目指す。日本の食品をどんどん海外にも輸出する」と衆院選で公約してから半年。やったことは「病害虫が入れば日本の農地が終わる」と農家や農水省官僚が何十年も猛反対してきた米国産ジャガイモの輸入を強行することでした https://t.co/9fkY86mKi5

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