:) Rendben, Gyönyörûim!
Akkor kezdõdjék a vetítés :) :)
Üljenek le és élvezzék :) :)


CM - DB.91

fotitos

Ven guapo con tus fotitot de Db o lo que sea :)

ok :) Igazolt távollét :)

micsoda kérdés! Alig vártam már :) Remélem, megebédeltél, hogy bírd energiával estig :)

Lesz miben gyönyörködnöm, ha lefutott a délutáni móka! Ez az örök körforgás, ezért gondolom úgy, ahogy Marquez: hétfõ van! :)))

Sziasztok Gyönyörû Virágszálaim!
Jöhet a DB-képsorozat?

Jelentem, én ebédeltem, most meg a puzzle-t rakom. :))

Létszámjelentés, névsorolvasás!
Ki milyen jogcímen van távol, hol és éppen mit mûvel? Ja, és kinek az engedélyével? :):):):)

mikor kezdjük, és mivel?
szervezz! :) szólj, adom a magamét! És csakis az igazat! :)

Ebben a hatalmas káoszban kell rendet teremtenem. :))))

Szerintem bele telik egy-két napomba. :)))

CM
By Michael Phillips
Tribune movie critic
August 27, 2007

Movie review: 'La Mujer de Mi Hermano'
By Michael Phillips
2½ stars (out of four)

Some movies sell and you don't know why. With "La Mujer de mi Hermano," a big-screen romantic drama with the aura of a nicely steamed telenovela, you know why: because the three stars look good in plush white bathrobes, that's why. Uruguay native Barbari Mori, Peruvian-born Christian Meier and Colombian heartthrob Manolo Cardona ooze the sort of high-gloss charisma required by Peruvian novelist Jaime Bayly's story, trading in many of the usual soap opera suspects--family secrets, closeted homosexuality and high-grade terry cloth among them.

A large hit all over Latin America, "La Mujer de mi Hermano" ("My Brother's Wife") unfurls in a dreamy, high-end Mexico City. (The novel took place in Peru.) On the surface Zoe (Mori) lives the sweet life with her husband Ignacio (Meier) in their ultra-chic rectangular slab of a home, all concrete, glass and chrome. Underneath, trouble: The childless couple's sensual currents have gone flat, and the grind of Ignacio's infertility has taken its toll.

A man of business as well as private demons, Ignacio sends checks every month to his hunky artist brother, Gonzalo (Cardona), who is warm for Zoe. It is easy to see where this tale is going, though the inevitable coupling between these deeply photogenic in-laws has its moments. "I don't know how you can stand him," Gonzalo purrs to the vulnerable Zoe, regarding his brother. Marriage to Ignacio has its consolations, she says to Gonzalo: "I get to see you once in a while."

This being a fully Catholicized sudser, Zoe puts herself through the requisite anguish while conducting her affair. Her gay confidante Boris (Bruno Bichir) exhorts Zoe to lay off the regrets. "Guilt," he says, "was invented by priests." Meanwhile Gonzalo plants seeds of doubt in Zoe's head regarding the sexuality of her husband. To Zoe's tastes, he is a little too into waxing his back hair for comfort.

Contrary to the title, the screen version of "La Mujer de mi Hermano" is not told from the brother-in-law's point of view. It's more Zoe's story, albeit hinging on one major revelation involving the brothers. It's fairly effective plotting for this sort of thing, which constitutes romantic nonsense taken very seriously. God knows composer Angelo Milli takes it seriously: Every time Zoe and Gonzalo tousle a new set of sheets, the strings start flooding the soundtrack. Mori, a former telenovela star herself thanks to the Mexican series "Rubi," does not need all that aural swank. Nor do her co-stars. The film is the cinematic equivalent of a plush bathrobe, wrapped around a story of love and betrayal among the rich, furtive and back-waxed.

:) Gépen van minden :)

'La Mujer de Mi Hermano'


Drama. Starring Bárbara Mori, Christian Meier and Manolo Cardona. Directed by Ricardo de Montreuil. (R. 89 minutes. At Bay Area theaters.)


Repressed desire! A sultry soap-opera star! Incest! Gay politics! "La Mujer de Mi Hermano" has it all. Now if it only had a decent plot.

Ricardo de Montreuil's artfully filmed feature is a soap opera with pretensions to art, but a soap opera nonetheless. The plot: Ten years of marriage to the wealthy but sterile Ignacio (Christian Meier) -- a guy so repressed he wears boxers while skinny-dipping -- have left Zoe (Bárbara Mori) sexually starved and bored out of her mind. Enter Ignacio's freeloading, freethinking artist brother, Gonzalo (Manolo Cardona), who wants to paint Zoe's portrait and show her his etchings, so to speak.

The inevitable happens. The two become lovers, plunging Zoe into a conundrum as old as melodrama: Should Zoe choose security over passion? Honor before fulfillment? Some fresh revelations further complicate matters as Zoe, suffering beautifully and showing a lot of leg, learns more about her husband than she cared to know. Soon every member of the incestuous love triangle must make big decisions. Whatever shall they do?

Viewers will probably guess most of the answers a third of the way through and struggle to maintain interest for the remainder. More intriguing are the questions that remain unanswered, such as how Zoe's embalmed marriage lasted a decade, or how anyone could manage a happily-ever-after scenario considering some of the narrative's tawdrier details. "La Mujer" tackles none of these. Not surprising, considering the characters are the stuff templates are made of, from Zoe the suffering nymph to Gonzalo the irresponsible rebel to Ignacio the uptight husband with a secret. They yield predictably shallow results.

Signs that de Montreuil can do better can be found in the movie's opening sequence: a muted, microcosmic landscape of dead leaves and dying insects, drifting like emotional flotsam in Ignacio's swimming pool. If only the director had followed through on these promising metaphors. Maybe next time. As is, "La Mujer de Mi Hermano" is just titillation -- and not terribly interesting titillation at that.

Zseniális

Igen! Húú, de gyors voltál! Köszönöm! :))

Egyszerû! A wikipédiában bele lehet írni a már meglévõ szócikkekbe, lehet újat hozzá tenni, teljesen újat csinálni, hiszen azt az emberek szerkesztik! :)) Angolul már van, mert azt olvastam, meg biztos spanyolul is (bár azt még nem láttam), de lehetne egy magyarul is, a gügyéknek, akik nem tudják kirõl van szó, bibliográfiával, rövid ismertetõkkel. Te is nagyon jól írsz, Yenna is, Belle-nek sem kell panaszkodnia, van aki képet tudna hozzá adni, szívesen írnék a filmjeirõl... priviben kitatlálhatjuk a témát, aztán a többieknek ha van kedve összeállíthatjuk....

CM - Critic

La Mujer de Mi Hermano(2006)
by Sarah Scott

Spanish-language film “La Mujer de Mi Hermano” is a study of one woman’s struggle to rejuvenate her life amidst a stale marriage. Broken-hearted over her an her husband’s inability to conceive a child, and depressed about her husband’s apparent lack of sexual interest in her, Zoe seeks solace from her wealthy but sterile lifestyle in the arms of her husband’s brother, Gonzalo. Gonzalo is everything that her husband, Ignacio, isn’t—where Ignacio is aloof and career-driven, Gonzalo is the quintessential romantic artist. He is committed to his paintings and seemingly nothing else, and his lust for Zoe seems to fill the emptiness she’s felt in her marriage. The tragedy is that Zoe hardly seems to realize (though it’s obvious to anyone watching the film) that Ignacio and Gonzalo are still enmeshed in a powerful sibling rivalry, and she is merely the latest weapon with which they duke it out.

Unfortunately for “La Mujer,” none of its three main characters has sufficient warmth or humanity to engage us in the film. Zoe (Barbara Mori) is confused about everything in her life except her desire to have a child, and her thirtysomething angst comes off more as spoiled immaturity; she justifies both staying with her husband and sleeping with his brother by stating simply, “I don’t like to sleep alone.” This lack of agency in taking a hold of her life renders her less a fully-fleshed character than a cast-adrift object, free-floating through the film. We’re provided virtually no insight into the soulless life of Ignacio (Christian Meier) until over halfway through the film, when it dawns on Zoe that perhaps her husband, who only allows sex with his beautiful wife on Saturdays, is a deeply repressed homosexual. And Gonzalo (Manolo Cardona, a Colombian Mark Ruffalo lookalike), despite appearances that he is a passionate free spirit, is the most coldly calculating and selfish of them all (though in a very strange and out-of-place scene we learn that he may have a legitimate claim to his wounded, sadistic behavior).

The direction by Ricardo de Montreuil and art direction by Wolfgang Burmann seem inclined to mimic the cold sterility of the film’s characters. Zoe and Ignacio’s modernist home has all the warmth of a doctor’s office, and the drab color palate underlines the drab lives unfolding on screen. The score by Angelo Milli is thankfully sparse, but when it does surface seems more inspired by soap operas or soft-core erotic thrillers (at least it seems Milli has a clearer understanding of the film than others involved). To be fair, the translated subtitles are atrociously riddled with typos and grammatical errors; perhaps in its native tongue the film might come off better. As it is, ultimately, with its rather dated dalliance into the effects of the mainstreaming of homosexuality and its clichéd characters, the film plays like an extended episode of “Will & Grace” taking itself too seriously. Fans of telenovelas or “Basic Instinct 2” will get their money’s worth; everyone else would do well to stick to Debra Messing for their lessons in gaydar.

CM - La mujer de mi Hermano

'La Mujer de Mi Hermano'
In the practical and humane "La Mujer de Mi Hermano," the family members struggle to lead an ideal life.
By Carina Chocano
Times Staff Writer

April 14, 2006

As pared down, stylish and deceptively simple as the stark glass and concrete block inhabited by two of its main characters, "La Mujer de Mi Hermano" (My Brother's Wife) is an adultery drama that skips the big life lessons in favor of observing the mysteries of human interdependency and social behavior.

Peruvian director Ricardo de Montreuil has transposed the characters created by his compatriot, novelist Jaime Bayly, from Lima to Mexico City and has cast Mexican stars in three of the film's four principal roles. The idea behind the relocation was to broaden the film's global appeal, as Mexican films tend to be well received across Latin America and within the United States. Accents and local slang are duly adjusted, but the shift feels academic. "La Mujer de Mi Hermano" blooms inside only the most insular, intimate spaces, its characters untouched by the world around them. If anything, it's a reminder that class — especially the upper echelons — is a country unto itself that doesn't recognize geographical borders.

Disturbingly beautiful and melancholic Zoë (Barbara Mori) lives with her image-obsessed husband, Ignacio (Christian Meier), in an ultra-modern house — half display case, half hothouse — on the outskirts of the city. Ignacio is wealthy and doting but distant, and their marriage is affectionate but passionless. Ignacio's sterility and Zoë's refusal to consider adoption compound the feeling that the marriage has cruised into a cul-de-sac.

Zoë's complaints, which she shares with her gay friend Boris (Bruno Bichir), are legitimate, but it's Ignacio who elicits sympathy at first. Genuinely afraid of losing Zoë, he exudes a tightly wound, reined-in helplessness that's painful to watch. The feeling is cemented when Zoë starts hanging around with Ignacio's estranged younger brother, Gonzalo (Manolo Cardona), a painter who bad-mouths Ignacio at every opportunity but gladly takes his money each month. When Zoë drops by his gallery unexpectedly, Gonzalo sells her a painting from his show. The selling, rather than giving, becomes another point of contention between Gonzalo and Ignacio, but for Zoë it's a chance to get back at her husband.

The principal pleasures of the film lie in the subtle shifts in character that prompt shifts in allegiance, so I won't spoil them. The main thing is that "La Mujer de Mi Hermano" lets its characters' behaviors speak for themselves, which naturally lead the audience into snap judgments that evolve into something more fluid and forgiving.

Tall and broad, Meier has a rigid, hulking quality that serves him well as the high-strung businessman scared stiff of losing his wife. For a guy built like a pylon, he has a remarkable way of making himself small by tucking himself into a neat package.

Mori, a memorable presence, plays an instantly recognizable type nonetheless rarely seen onscreen. Zoë's uncommon beauty masks her neediness, insecurity and loneliness. Mexican star Angélica Aragón plays Cristina, the mother of Ignacio and Gonzalo, a woman who sees strictly what she wants to see and nothing more.

A final twist — a bit of a corker — threatens to push what has otherwise been a cool-headed emotional experience into the realm of melodrama. Despite this false note, "La Mujer de Mi Hermano" keeps a cool eye trained on its characters as they struggle to make their lives conform to some strict phantom ideal.

For a movie about an inter-family dalliance, it's far more pragmatic than you might expect, and far more humane. Ultimately, "La Mujer de Mi Hermano" offers the uncommon (in movieland) perspective that it may be the ideal that oppresses life, not the other way around.

Ez gyors látogató volt :)
Kritikát akarsz?


Sleek 'La mujer de mi hermano' involves a messy love triangle
By David Elliott
MOVIE CRITIC
April 14, 2006

Something of a Lima lemon, “La mujer de mi hermano” is a sleek first feature from Peruvian MTV grad Ricardo de Montreuil and another Limano, scripter Jaime Bayly.

Much of it seems packaged to show the nubile attractions and slightly sleepy acting manner of Uruguay-born Barbara Mori, whose Zoe still pines for a child after 10 years of marriage to industrial heir Ignacio (Christian Meier). His fault is clearly stated, though the movie flaps gauzy veils about the cause: not impotent, but probably gay.

You might ask: So what? After all, gay men, including workout bulls like Ignacio, can sire children. But hope wilts when Ignacio appears to be heading for paralysis when locked in Zoe's embrace. Or, after denying her sex, he pleasures himself solo as she lies nearby, pondering.

Zoe's solution, briefly, is to carry on a poorly hidden affair with Ignacio's brother, Gonzalo (Manolo Cardona). Painter and “free spirit,” Gonzalo is also a stud and an ingrate. It seems perfectly sensible of Ignacio, who gives Gonzalo a lush monthly stipend, to fly into a rage when Gonzalo offers Zoe a painting and then charges him for it.

Gonzalo is the sort of creative guy who does derivative paintings and then, to confirm his boldness, pollutes Ignacio's pool. Meanwhile, Ignacio is so shivered about being outed, and also cuckolded rather incestuously, that he complains of being cold in a steaming Jacuzzi.



Advertisement In a story akin to the soaped enticements of Mexican telenovelas, clues hang like gaudy piñatas: Ignacio has a shower tryst on a trip; the maid catches Zoe and Gonzalo in a kiss; Ignacio shows his sensitivity by saving a bug; the standard melodramatic root of gayness is implied, by Ignacio's having a domineering mother who avows, “A mother is never wrong.”
Naturally, Zoe gets pregnant and a gay friend (Mexican actor Bruno Bichir) is rich in advice about her choices (premise: a caring gay friend is never wrong). The contra-Catholic thought of abortion is dangled, but the Church is represented by a lovable priest, and even these sins can be managed.

Ignacio's home is a pair of Miesian modernist boxes; the film is as fond of shining glass as of smooth flesh (the camera gazes and grazes). Television junk making a flirty pass at the bigger screen, “La mujer” confirms a truism: People who live in glass houses should avoid family affairs.