Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta woody allen. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta woody allen. Mostrar todas as mensagens

25 outubro 2015






“I’ve been working on the same Olympus Typewriter since I was 16. All of my films were written on that typewriter, but until recently I couldn’t even change the color ribbon myself. There were times when I would invite people over to dinner just so they would change the ribbon. It’s a tragedy.”




Woody Allen






12 junho 2015






fascinante, esta junção de uma velha canção de bernstein (de west side story), numa velha cover de tom waits, 
com clips de velhos filmes de woody allen. pois... sou um rapaz antigo.



there's a place for us

somewhere a place for us

peace and quiet and open air

wait for us somewhere

there's a time for us

someday a time for us

time together with time to spare

time to learn, time to care

someday, somewhere

we'll find a new way of living

we'll find a way of forgiving
somewhere there's a place for us

a time and a place for us

hold my hand and we're half way there

hold my hand and i'll take you there

somehow, someday, somewhere






21 setembro 2012
















Chapter One. He adored New York City. He idolized it all out of proportion. Eh uh, no, make that he, he romanticized it all out of proportion. Better. To him, no matter what the season was, this was still a town that existed in black and white and pulsated to the great tunes of George Gershwin. Uh, no, let me start this over...
Chapter One: He was too romantic about Manhattan, as he was about everything else. He thrived on the hustle bustle of the crowds and the traffic. To him, New York meant beautiful women and street smart guys who seemed to know all the angles. Ah, corny, too corny for, you know, my taste. Let me, let me try and make it more profound...
Chapter One: He adored New York City. To him it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture. The same lack of individual integrity that caused so many people to take the easy way out was rapidly turning the town of his dreams in - no, it's gonna be too preachy, I mean, you know, let's face it, I wanna sell some books here...
Chapter One: He adored New York City. Although to him it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture. How hard it was to exist in a society desensitized by drugs, loud music, television, crime, garbage - too angry. I don't want to be angry...
Chapter One. He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat. Oh, I love this. New York was his town, and it always would be.