Thursday, June 10
"Children Full of Life" is a series of short profoundly moving documentaries about a fourth-grade class in a primary school in Kanazawa, northwest of Tokio where their homeroom teacher, Toshiro Kanamori, encourages students to write their true inner feelings in a letter and read it aloud in front of the class. Each day, three children read letters to their classmates talking honestly about their feelings and sharing deep, ordinarily inaccessible emotions with the rest of the students. By sharing their lives, the children begin to realize the importance of caring for their classmates and gives them the opportunity to discover the value of sharing powerful emotions.
For a whole school year, the camera follows these 10-year-old's students showing how they grow and develop by learning empathy and compassion. They learn about themselves and their friends. Learn to cheer up their mates and to themselves. Learn to be courageous and take responsabilities.
Classroom discussions include difficult issues such as the death of a parent or being the victim of bullying. There are great emotive moments in this class. Mr. Kanamori's message in Class One is that their primary goal of the year is to be happy. We only have one life so we have to enjoy it. "We come to school to be happy, so let's all be happy together". This is the vow made by Grade Four students and their teacher Kanamori. The class searches together for ways to understand and cope with troubled relationships, unhappiness and loss of loved ones. Through their daily experiences, we see how they develop together the spirit of co-operation and compassion creating strong bonds between them.
An amazing moment is when a child stands up desperately for a friend. I could never imagine a child taking this kind of risk on behalf on another child. I also find it interesting that all the children took collective responsability for one child's actions.
I have to admit, I teared up a few times watching it.
- To my friend a.c.g.a. He was also such a teacher -
(You can see a Spanish subtitled version in Youtube "Pensando en los demás" from the Catalonian tv. The images are not of a good quality but it deserves to be seen.)
Sunday, June 6
Congrats Rafa!
Rafael Nadal has won his fifth French Open tournament without losing a set and regain the world number one ranking.
It's moving the way he sobbed like a baby, crying tears of joy. I love this boy, this tennis player, the only sportsman I am really interested in.
And now, Go Rafa Go! Regain Wimbledon!
Good luck!!
Saturday, June 5
Thursday, May 20
Dennis Gansel’s film “The Wave” poses the question, what led to the rise of the Nazis, and could it happen again?
The setting is in a prosperous town in present-day Germany, it is based in a high school populated by affluent, intelligent students and staff. A class of teenagers sits bored at the prospect of a lesson about fascist autocracy. Their history teacher, Herr Wenger, seems equally unenthusiastic.
He invites his students to participate in an experiment. For the next week the students will stand up to speak in class, address him as Sir and answer all the questions succinctly. He teaches them to sit up straight at their desks, to help each other out and to breathe correctly. Instead of rebelling, the students accepted gladly these new rules.
What begins as a playful study in psychological manipulation soon runs out of hands.
The group quickly begins to grow. They name themselves “The Wave”, invent a especial salute, devise a logo (a stylised wave), adopt a uniform (white shirt and jeans), create a My Space page, and exclude and persecute dissidents and non-conformists.
New students soon join “The Wave”. By midweek the students have been transformed into an ersatz Hitler Youth and they don’t realise how quickly they are mimicking mistakes of the past. Mistakes they all thought could never happen again.
A climax is unavoidable, resulting in a hard lesson for both Wenger and his students.
A great film. It is a must see for everyone, but especially for the young.
Sunday, May 16
O Día das Letras Galegas (17 de maio) exalta as letras e a lingua Galega. Comezou a celebrarse en 1963.
Rematou o Bacharelato no 1948 en Lugo, e fixo algún curso de Filosofía e Letras en Madrid, onde comezou a escribir poemas en castelán. En 1952 comezou a escribir en galego, lingua que xa non deixaría nunca. Do 1953 ao 1962 estivo na montaña nativa, recobrándose dunha doenza pulmonar. En 1962 foi para Madrid de novo, e traballou na radio e na televisión. No 1966 regresou ao Courel, onde casou e tivo fillos. En 1983 afincouse definitivamente en Santiago. Foi, ata a súa morte, presidente da Asociación de Escritores en Lingua Galega.
En 1955 publicou "Os eidos", poemario con que comeza un ciclo poético que retomará con "Os eidos 2". "Letanía de Galicia e outros poemas" (1974). En 1979 publicou "Poemas caligráficos", prologado e ilustrado por Reimundo Patiño. Os textos están vinculados á vangarda pictórica organizada arredor do grupo Brais Pinto. A comezos da década de 1980 recompilou e depurou o seu ciclo courelán, publicando "Os eidos. Libro do Courel" (1981), que reeditou en varias ocasións. En 1983, afincado xa en Compostela, comezou unha recompilación temática da súa produción poética completa: "Muller pra lonxe" (1987), poemas paixonais e amorosos e "Do Courel a Compostela" 1956-1986, poemas políticos acompañados dunha antoloxía crítica. En 1994, logo de varios anos de silencio editorial, editou "Poemas de doada certeza i este brillo premido entre as pálpebras", e en 1998 Betanzos: "Poema dos Caneiros e Estampas".
Nos seus textos, Novoneyra preocúpase sobretodo, pola forma poética e pola linguaxe. Formalmente, procuraba o mellor resultado visual e —sobre todo— sonoro para os textos (botando man para tal efecto de diversos recursos como o fonosimbolismo, a utilización de dialectalismos e vulgarismos, os silencios, o simbolismo gráfico, etc). As poucas palabras que emprega pretenden evocar dun modo máxico o mundo no que o home esta inmerso, designando as cousas para que estas aparezan perante nós.
Sunday, May 9
Friday, April 23
23 April. It’s a symbolic date for world Literature for on this date and in the same year of 1616, Cervantes (according to Gregorian Calendar), Shakespeare (according to Julian Calendar) and Garcilaso de la Vega all died. It is also the date of birth or death of other prominent authors such as Maurice Druon, K.Laxness, Vladimir Nabokov, Josep Pla and Manuel Mejía Vallejo. It is natural then to pay a world-wide tribute to books and authors on this date, encouraging everyone, and in particular young people, to discover the pleasure of reading and gain respect for those who have fostered the social and cultural progress of humanity.
Enjoy this humorous Norwegian video "Introducing the book" to celebrate this day.
Friday, April 16
Ieri sera il Dipartimento di Italiano della EOI di Vigo ha organizato un corso di cucina in lingua italiana con una cuoca esperta. I docenti che frequentano il corso básico di italiano abbiamo chiesto alla nostra insegnante a partecipare e lei gentilmente lo permette. È stata una buona esperienza in cui noi praticamo il vocabolario sul cibo della classe precedente, mentre abbiamo imparato tutto sulla "cramble" (Briciola) - la provenienza, l'origine, ingredienti ... - e, naturalmente, elaboraremo la deliziosa ricetta. Dopo la gustamo accompagnato da un tè inglese.
È abbastanza semplice e facile di fare, uno stato di mele coperto da un impasto rigorosamente sbriciolato, cotto in forno fino a doradura.
Questa è la ricetta fornita della cuoca:
Ingredienti per 6 persone:
6 mele - 100 g zucchero - 1 cucchiaio di zucchero di canna (anche quello raffinato) - (scorza di limone grattugiato) - 300 g farina bianca - 150 g burro o margarina - panna / yogurt
Si dispongono le mele tagliate a fette non troppo sottili in una pirofilia da forno, sovrapponendole in modo da non lasciare spazi vuoti. Si cosparge la frutta con una noce di burro e le scorza di limone grattugiato (se vi piace con un tocco al limone)
Per il crumble, cioè il crostone che coprirà le mele, si mescolano con le dita farina bianca e burro o margarina (il dopio del peso della farina rispetto a quello del burro), in modo da ottenere un composto simille alla molica di pane grattugiata. Si aggiunge poi lo zucchero un terzo della quantità della farina) continuando a mescolare in modo da ottenere un composto leggero e soffice. Si versa il composto sulle mele, comprendolle bene e premendo leggermente. Si sparge poi zucchero di canna sopra al crumble e lo si inforna per circa 45 minuti a 180º C. È buonissimo anche se viene preparato con prugne e banane e aggiungendo una manciata di noci tritate. Si mangia caldo, spesso accompagnato da Custard ( crema simile alla pasticciera) oppure da panna leggermente montata.
Friday, March 26
"Warning"
by Jenny Joseph
WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
"When I Am An Old Woman" is a delightful poem that speaks of growing old in a wonderfully outrageous style, when political incorretness or whimsical behaviour might be accepted "just because you're old".
It was written in 1961 by the British Jenny Joseph. This classic describes women's need for freedom from the usual social conventions. It is symbolized by the red hat worn with purple, which the Victorian fashion considered a no-no.
The poem is popularly known by many titles including "Warning", "When I Am An Old Woman", "The Purple Poem", "Purple" and by other affectionate names. It's cherished by thousands of women throughout the world and practically everyone enjoys its light humour above all the ending of the poem when it says: "But maybe I ought to practice a little now..."
The interest in the poem has grown over the years and there are a whole product line about the poem including cards, T-shirts, bookmarks, magnets, decorative boxes... and other gift products.
Thursday, March 11
Mi pequeño y humilde homenaje a las víctimas del 11 - M de Madrid con "Jueves", canción de la Oreja de Van Gogh dedicada a estas víctimas.
Wednesday, March 3
Sunday, February 28
American writer, cartoonist and illustrator Theodor Seuss Geisel, better known to the world as Dr. Seuss, was born in Springfield, Massachusetts.
This year National Read Across America Day is celebrated on Ted's birthday (he was born on March 2, 1904). This event was established 13 years ago by NEA (National Education Association) in USA and focuses on motivating children and teenagers to read. Thousand of schools, libraries and community centers participate all across the country.
Dr. Seuss began his career in advertising. His advertising cartoons, featuring recurrent plea"Quick, Henry, the Flit!"became a common catchphrase and appeared in leading American magazines.
His first children's book "And to Think That I saw It on Malberry Street" hit the market in 1937, and the world of children's literature was changed forever!
Brilliant, playful and always respectful of children, Dr. Seuss published over 60 children's books characterized by imaginative characters, including such all-time favourites as "The Cat in the Hat", "Green Eggs and Ham", "One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish", "Fox in Socks", "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"...
"A person's a person, no matter how small!" he would say. "Children want the same things we want. To laugh, to be challenged, to be entertained, and delighted".
In 1957, "The Cat in the Hat" started a series of books for beginning readers. He picked 220 words important for them to learn and kids and parents loved the story. It opens on two children who are stuck inside their house due to rain while their mother is out. They are looking for "something to do" when they suddenly get a visit from a six-foot-t
all cat who wears a tall striped hat. This talking cat offers to entertain them by performing varios tricks, with the help from his funny-looking assistants, Thing One and Thing Two, despite the objections from the kid's pet fish.
Eventually, after the Cat and the Things end up making a mess of the house, the kids take control of the situation, and the Cat makes up for it by cleaning the place in his way out right before the mother returns.
He was also a life-long cartoonist in highschool in Springfield, Massachusetts; in college at Dartmonth; as an adman in New York City before World War II and in his many children's books. As he is famous for his children's books and his political cartoons remained largely unknown,we do
not think of Dr. Seuss as a political cartoonist. But the truth is that from 1941 to 1943 he was the chief editorial cartoonist for the New York newspaper "PM". He drew over 400 editorial cartoons on different subjects, people and places.
Besides the books, his works have provided the source for eleven children's television specials, A Broadway musical and a feature-length motion picture.
His honours include two Academy awards, two Emmy awards, a Peabody award and the Pulitzer Prize.
Well, if you ever happen to go to Springfield, Massachusetts, the city where Theodor Seuss Geisel was born don't miss the Dr. Seuss National Memorial Sculpture Garden, Sculptor Lark Grey Dimond-Cates, created the endearing bronze sculptures of Dr. Seuss and his most beloved characters for the Springfield Library & Museums Association, located in the heart of this city.
Wednesday, February 10
Dear Francesca,
I hope this finds you well. I don't know when you'll receive it. Sometime after I'm gone. I'm sixty-five now, and it's been thirteen years ago today that we met when I came up your lane looking for directions.
I'm gambling that this package won't upset your life in any way. I just couldn't bear to think of the cameras sitting in a secondhand case in a camera store or in some stranger's hands. They'll be in pretty rough shape by the time you get them. But, I have no one else to leave them to, and I apologize for putting you at risk by sending them to you.
I was on the road almost constantly from1965 to 1975. Just to remove some of the temptation to call you or come for you, a temptation I have virtually every waking moment of my life, l took all of the overseas assignments I could find. There have been times, many of them, when I've said, "The hell with it. I'm going to Win- terset, Iowa, and, whatever the cost, take Francesca away with me."
But I remember your words, and I respect your feelings. Maybe you were right; I just don't know. I do know that driving out of your lane that hot Friday morning was the hardest thing I've ever done or will ever do. In fact, I doubt if few men have ever done anything more difficult than that.
I left National Geographic in 1975 and have been devoting the remainder of my shooting years mostly to things of my own choosing, picking up a little work where I can get it, local or regional stuff that keeps me away only a few days at a time. It's been tough financially, but I get along. I always do. Much of my work is around Puget Sound. I like it that way. It seems as men get older they turn toward the water.
Oh, yes, l have a dog now, a golden retriever. I call him "Highway," and he travels with me most of the time, head hanging out the window, looking for good shots.
In 1972, I fell down a cliff in Maine, in Acadia National Park, and broke my ankle. The chain and medallion got torn off in the fall. Fortunately they landed close by. I found them again, and a jeweler mended the chain.
I live with dust on my heart. That's about as well as I can put it. There were women before you, a few, but none after. I made no conscious pledge to celibacy; I'm just not interested.
I once watched a Canada goose whose mate had been shot by hunters. They mate for life, you know. The gander circled the pond for days, and more days after that. When I last saw him, he was swimming alone through the wild rice, still looking. I suppose that analogy is a little too obvious for literary tastes, but it's pretty much the way I feel.
In my imagination, on foggy mornings or afternoons with the sun bouncing off northwest water, I try to think of where you might be in your life and what you might be doing as I'm thinking of you. Nothing complicated--- going out to your garden, sitting on your front porch swing, standing at the sink in your kitchen.
Things like that. I remember everything. How you smelled, how you tasted like the summer. The feel of your skin against mine, and the sound of your whispers as I loved you.
Robert Penn Warren once used the phrase"a world that seems to be God-abandoned." Not bad, pretty close to how I feel some of the time. But I cannot live that way always. When those feelings become too strong, I load Harry and go down the road with Highway for a few days.
I don't like feeling sorry for myself. That's not who I am. And most of the time I don't feel that way. Instead, I am grateful for having at least found you. We could have flashed by one another like two pieces of cosmic dust.
God or the universe or whatever one chooses to label the great systems of balance and order does not recognize Earth-time. To the universe, four days is no different than four billion light years. I try to keep that in mind.
But, I am, after all, a man. And all the philosophic rationalizations I can conjure up do not keep me from wanting you, every day, every moment, the merciless wail of time, of time I can never spend with you, deep within my head.
I love you, profoundly and completely. And I always will.
The last cowboy,
Robert
P. S., I put another new engine in Harry last summer, and he's doing fine.
Querida Francesca:
Espero que ésta te encuentre bien. No sé cuándo recibirás esta carta. Algún tiempo después de mi partida. Tengo sesenta y cinco años, y hoy hace trece que nos conocimos, cuando entré en tu sendero para pedir indicaciones.
Espero que este paquete no perturbe tu vida en modo alguno. No podría soportar pensar que las cámaras queden en estuches gastados en algún negocio de segunda mano, o en poder de un desconocido. Estarán bastante estropeadas cuando te lleguen. Pero no tengo a quien dejárselas, y te ruego que me perdones por ponerte en riesgo enviándotelas.
Entre 1965 y 1975 estuve casi todo el tiempo viajando. Para alejar la tentación de llamarte o ir a verte, una tentación que tengo virtualmente en todos mis momentos de vigilia. Acepté todas las misiones que pude fuera del país. A veces, muchas veces, me dije: "Al diablo, me voy a Winterset. Iowa, y me llevo a Francesca conmigo a cualquier costo".
Pero recuerdo tus palabras, y respeto tus sentimientos. Tal vez tengas razón; no lo sé. Lo que sé es que salir de tu sendero esa calurosa mañana de un viernes fue lo más duro que me tocó hacer en la vida. En realidad dudo de que muchos hombres hayan hecho jamás algo tan difícil.
Dejé el National Geographic en 1975 y dediqué el resto de mis años de fotógrafo a cosas elegidas por mí, haciendo algún trabajo donde lo encontraba, temas locales o regionales que sólo me obligan a estar fuera por unos días cada vez. Desde el punto de vista financiero es duro, pero me las arreglo. Siempre me las he arreglado. Gran parte de mi trabajo gira alrededor de Puget Sound, y eso me gusta. Parece que cuando los hombres envejecen se acercan al agua.
Ahora tengo un perro, un perdiguero dorado. Lo llamo "Camino", y viaja conmigo casi todo el tiempo, sacando la cabeza por la ventanilla, buscando buenas presas. En el setenta y dos me caí de un acantilado en Maine, en el parque nacional de Acadia, y me fracturé un tobillo. Con la caída se rompieron la cadena y el medallón. Afortunadamente cayeron cerca. Los encontré y mandé reparar la cadena a un joyero.
Vivo con el corazón cubierto de polvo. Esa es la mejor manera en que puedo expresarlo. Hubo mujeres antes de ti, algunas, pero después de ti ninguna. No hice ningún voto de celibato; sencillamente no me interesan.
Una vez vi un ganso en Canadá a quien unos cazadores le habían matado la pareja. Sabes que se aparean para toda la vida. El ganso anduvo en círculos alrededor del estanque durante muchos días después de lo sucedido. Cuando lo vi por última vez nadaba solo en medio del arroz silvestre, siempre buscando. Supongo que la analogía es demasiado obvia para el gusto literario, pero es así como me siento.
En mi imaginación, en mañanas neblinosas o en tardes en que el sol se pone sobre las aguas al noroeste, trato de pensar qué puede ser de tu vida y qué estarás haciendo mientras pienso en ti. Nada complicado... salir al jardín, sentarte en la hamaca del porche, estar de pie ante la pileta de la cocina. Cosas así. Recuerdo todo. Tu olor, tu sabor de verano. La sensación de tu piel contra la mía, tus susurros cuando te amaba.
Una vez Robert Penn Warren usó esta frase: "... un mundo que parece abandonado de Dios...". No está mal, se parece bastante a lo que siento a veces. Pero no puedo vivir siempre así. Cuando esos sentimientos se hacen demasiado intensos, cargo las cosas en Harry y me voy de viaje por unos días con Camino.
No me gusta tenerme lástima. No soy de esa clase de hombre. Y la mayor parte del tiempo no me siento así. En cambio me siento agradecido por haberte encontrado. Podríamos haber pasado uno junto al otro sin percibirnos, como dos porciones de polvo cósmico.
Dios o el universo, o lo que uno elija para nombrar los grandes sistemas de equilibrio y orden, no reconoce el tiempo terrestre. Para el universo, cuatro días no es distinto de cuatro mil millones de años luz. Yo trato de tenerlo siempre presente.
Pero, al fin y al cabo, no soy más que un hombre.Y todas las elucubraciones filosóficas que pueda conjurar no me salvan de desearte, todos los días, a cada momento ni del despiadado gemido del tiempo, el tiempo que nunca puedo pasar contigo, dentro de mi cabeza.
Te amo profundamente, totalmente. Y será siempre así.
El Ultimo cowboy, Robert
P.S.: El verano pasado le puse un motor nuevo a Harry. Anda muy bien.
I think this touching letter summarises the intense, lasting love story in “The Bridges Of Madison County” and I like especially the fact that the characters are “mature” and not a couple of 20 year-olds.
It was a surprising “word of mouth” best-seller book in the 1990s about the story of Francesca Johnson, a 45 year-old Iowa farm wife who meets Robert Kincaid, 52, a “National Geographic” photographer while her family is away at the Illinois State Fair.
“The Bridges of Madison County” is set in mid-1960s when Robert Kincaid comes to Iowa to take pictures of historic rustic covered bridges for a National Geographic magazine article.
Since the rural roads to Roseman Bridge are not clearly marked, he asked Francesca for directions and she offered to accompany him. Kincaid takes various shots of the bridge at a distance, because he is losing the light he needs and he decides to return the next day.
Back at home she invites him for dinner and he helps her prepare the vegetables for the meal. They share a few beers, exchange life stories and take a short walk after dinner. The evening ends when Kincaid leaves as he needs to rise early for the next day’s shoot. But Francesca drives to the bridge again that night and tacks up a note where she knows Kincaid will find it. It’s an invitation to dinner the following evening.
At dinner the next evening they realize they have fallen in love and their intense, short-lived love affair begins. During their four days together, they have much intimacy and tender conversation. They are joined in an experience of uncommon and stunning beauty, an experience that will haunt them forever.
He asks her to come away with him but Francesca realizes she cannot leave her family because of her sense of responsibility to them. She cannot abandon them, “They would not survive the talk”, she could never bring such pain and humiliation to her family. So, the two lovers return to their previous lives with thoughts of what might have been. They will never see each other again, they have only a couple of written contact over the years.
After Kincaid has died, a package reaches Francesca that contains his cameras, the medallion she had given him, the old note she had tacked to the bridge and a letter that informs her that Kincaid has passed away.
She also learns that his cremated remains were scattered at the Roseman Bridge. By this time Francesca’s husband has passed away and she lives out her days alone remembering her time with Robert. One day, at the age of 69, she is found dead. She has left instructions for her ashes to be scattered at Roseman Bridge. This puzzles her two grown children who had planned to bury her alongside their father.
“The Bridges of Madison County” is a beautifully written book, maybe overly sentimental but it has a memorable magical read. It’s one of the most romantic, stirring ta
les of true love I’ve ever read, it has captured my imagination and support the same as Dr. Zhivago, Romeo and Juliet, Casablanca film and countless others.Even if the book is controversial with people divided into fans and foes of the story, regarding it as romance, literature or an adult fairy tale, “The Bridges of Madison County” holds a fascination for people because of the popular themes it explores: love, passion, opportunity, regret, loyalty, consequence and responsibility.
This book was followed in 1995 by a well-received Hollywood film of the same name starring Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood.
Thursday, January 28
"Avatar", directed by James Cameron, is a 3D science fiction epic film set in the year 2154 which tells the story of an ex-Marine, Jake Sally - played by Sam Worthington - who is confined to a wheel-chair following a war on Earth. He is selected to take part in the Avatar Program - where his mind will control a healthy body on a remote world - and sent to Pandora, a rainforest-covered moon of the planet Polyphemus, some 4.3 light years from Earth. It is inhabited by strange criatures, the Na'vi, a humanoide race with their own language and culture.
Humans are unable to breathe Pandora's air, so the Avatar Program creates bodies designed to look like Na'vi, grown in vats using a combination of human and Na'vi DNA. Humans then "drive" the Avatar bodies as they explore Pandora. Through his Avatar body Jake will be able to walk again.
Na'vi people are ten-foot tall, blue skinned creatures with zebra stripes and a long tail pointed into a diamond at the end. The facial features are leonine, with enormous golden eyes and large, pointed ears. they are phisically stronger and taller than humans and they live in harmony with nature, worshipping a mother goddess called Eywa.
At once, we can notice the bioluminescent terrifying beauty of Pandora, the plants are a spectacle of greens, blues, pinks, and purples without being the slightest bid gaudy. Some of the plants look like jungle flowers , others like hanging butterfly wings.
Humans are engaged in mining Pandora's natural resources, a precious mineral, called unobtanium which can save Earth from its present energy crisis. Indigenius Na'vi must resist the colonists' expansion which threatens the continued existence of the Na'vi and the Pandoran ecosystem.
While Jake begins to bond with the native tribe and quickly falls in love with beautiful alien Neytiri - Zoe Saldana - restless Colonel Quaritch moves forward with his ruthless extermination tactics forcing Jake to take a stand and fight back in an epic battle for the fate of Pandora.
The film ends with the Na'vi performing the ritual that permanently transfers Jake from his human body into his Na'vi avatar.
"Avatar" has been a film revolution offering as big a leap in our viewing experience as the change from black-and-white television to colour.
James Cameron has pushed technical effects to the limit. It's not the first time cinema has flirted with 3D but the results have often been derided. Cameron waited 15 years before starting filming as technology had not advanced enough to portray his vision. So, he co-developed a new generation of stereoscopic cameras. Simplified, this is the equivalent of two cameras strapped together, each providing a slightly different perspective on the scene, mimicking the way human eyes view the world in three dimensions.
Our impression with previous experiences of 3D was one of a flattish image with the occasional object "flying" at us, but now the entire screen has depth, taking on the appearance of a window through which the viewers are watching a "world" on the screen with a distinct foreground and background, rather than a flat, moving painting. The cinema screen becomes a theatre stage.
Viewers will need to wear glasses to get the illusion. They are polarising glasses which do not cause the headaches experienced in the past since each lens has a different filter which removes different part of the image as it enters each eye. This gives the brain the illusion it is seeing the picture from two different angles, creating the 3D effect.
And now you can enjoy the official trailer.
Wednesday, January 20
