In the White City
(1983)
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In the White City
(1983)
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| Cast overview: | |||
| Bruno Ganz | ... |
Paul
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Teresa Madruga | ... |
Rosa
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Julia Vonderlinn | ... |
Élisa /
The Swiss woman
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José Carvalho | ... |
Le patron
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Francisco Baião | ... |
Le voleur au couteau
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José Wallenstein | ... |
L'autre voleur
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Victor Costa | ... |
Le garçon du bar
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Lídia Franco | ... |
La fille du bar
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Pedro Efe | ... |
L'ami dans la taverne
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Cecília Guimarães | ... |
La dame du train
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| Joana Vicente | ... |
La jeune fille du train
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José de Carvalho | ... |
Le patron
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A Swiss sailor jumps ship in Lisbon, tired of the noisy engine room, the ship "a floating factory of crazy people." He rents a room and does little. He writes letters to his lover, describing the whiteness of the city, the solitude and the silence. He sends his love and emptiness; she replies with love and confusion. He sends movies from his 8mm camera. Then he becomes friendly with Rosa, a chambermaid, and soon it's a love affair. He continues to send letters and movies home. His Swiss lover is hurt and angry; she sends an ultimatum. Written by <jhailey@hotmail.com>
Ever been a tourist and thought of just staying where you are? This moody and reflective movie by Swiss director Alain Tanner captures this feeling for us all enticingly. The film has not had the showings it conspicuously deserves. It draws us in to contemplate what might happen if we simply stopped doing what we've always just done? And the haunting sense of authenticity is heightened using cuts of super-8 movie clips (as representations of a filmic mimicry of the pulse, taste and feel of life as it is lived on the edge).
Bruno Ganz (long before his Hitler portrayal) simply gets of the boat on which he was an engineer and loses himself and us in the sounds and sights of a foreign land. Lisbon evocatively unfurls before us in realistically plausible super-8 snatches as Ganz's character becomes enveloped in the flavour and mystery of a poor quarter of the city. Hopelessly drunk and plaintively playing his harmonica through the minutes and hours spent in his hotel room commanded by its dripping tap, the character posts film home to his wife in clinical Switzerland. Time and place are punctuated by escapes into drink, romance whilst the character clutches at every moment's freshness and tracing the lines of a web of ordinariness which is so easy to experience voyeuristically.The clock in the hotel symbolically goes backwards. Maybe there are times when perhaps we need to go back in order to move forward.