Chronicle of a Generation cinephile

Chronicle of a cinephile generation writer Ignacio Ortega Back in the sixties people filled the halls of the cinema to see the militant Saura, Bergman, or Fellini Berlanga. It was, as has always been a cinema, a window into our worlds impossible, a look at the thoughts of others, their imaginations and their fears, which were also our own. Do not know if it was the first film or the Bible or Don Quixote. Do not know, but the film was omnipresent in the lives of people where we took refuge like to die. That movie characters made genre films, which is the best that has ever done is gone replaced by stupid characters with that our children have grown, imported, as everything from American cinema. That was different. Slowly enough that Bogart in his raincoat seek a cigarette for all puffs incorporásemos our lives without creating alarm. It has been fifty years since the release of those emotions with the splendor of Technicolor at the bottom of the "chicken coop? in "Touch of Evil," La Dolce Vita? or "The 400 Blows?, of" Vertigo? or "plaque?, movies at home we made a transition from Rita Hayworth bare hand after removing the glove, the sensuality without Silvana Mangano navel bayón dancing in" Anna?, to LizTaylor in her tight brace of "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof? huddled after night, in the thalamus of the pillow put a face to our aspirations and difficulties.

They were our friends, our myths of the Hollywood Hills and threw them matches the girls as well as Lauren Bacall Humphrey. We all looked great dominating mechanisms, timing and weather black film, comedy or drama. Now the piercing has replaced the doors aesthetics and Malaga Festival teenagers willing to wait hours to paste minimum screams peek at the characters in his TV shows, no longer eats to go to the movies, going to the movies Paquetón eating popcorn, the superrefrescos, peanuts. The chat and the phone is the new destination wax molds now dreams of the youngsters, and in the retina absorb, up blood, violence and sex. This generation would say that you can live very well without seeing The Savages or Wonderful Town, or love the look of Aishwarya Rai or Zeta-Jones as it was fifty years we recreábamos in the eyes of a distant wild rumor Gloria Swanson or the infinite sweetness of Joan Crawford with whom we learned to fall in love, pinned at the top of our beds, rather than the bleeding heart of Jesus who preached the priests.

That's why we love movies, like Rick Blaine protagonsita told his lover Ilsa Lund, We'll Always Have Paris "" we'll always have Paris? heels in our lives as a lifeline. Then there was stuff for dreams. " (Hans Mayer)

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