domingo, 26 de septiembre de 2010

VIII: Películas: Four Weddings and a Funeral.

Matthew: Gareth used to prefer funerals to weddings. He said it was easier to get enthusiastic about a ceremony one had an outside chance of eventually being involved in. In order to prepare this speech, I rang a few people, to get a general picture of how Gareth was regarded by those who met him. Fat seems to have been a word people most connected with him. Terribly rude also rang a lot of bells. So very fat and very rude seems to have been a stranger's viewpoint. On the other hand, some of you have been kind enough to ring me and let me know that you loved him, which I know he would have been thrilled to hear. You remember his fabulous hospitality, his strange experimental cooking. The recipe for "Duck à la Banana" fortunately goes with him to his grave. Most of all, you tell me of his enormous capacity for joy. When joyful, when joyful for highly vocal drunkenness. But I hope joyful is how you will remember him. Not stuck in a box in a church. Pick your favourite of his waistcoats and remember him that way. The most splendid, replete, big-hearted, weak-hearted as it turned out, and jolly bugger most of us ever met. As for me, you may ask how I will remember him, what I thought of him. Unfortunately there I run out of words. Perhaps you will forgive me if I turn from my own feelings to the words of another splendid bugger: W.H. Auden. This is actually what I want to say: "Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bonel, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let the aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'. Put crepe bows 'round the white necks of the public doves, Let traffic policemen wear black, cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East, and West. My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good."

Four Weddings and a Funeral. Director: Mike Newell.

2 comentarios:


Esta escena es genial. Los comentarios te hacen asomar una sonrisa sin importar cuan triste uno pueda estar en esa situación (imaginando a los personajes, obvio).
El poema ése, para mí es genial y puede sacar hasta la última lágrima en mí. Es triste. Y da en el clavo.

Luna dijo...

Arrêtez les pendules, coupez le téléphone,
Empêchez le chien d'aboyer pour l'os que je lui donne,
Faites taire les pianos et les roulements de tambour
Sortez le cercueil avant la fin du jour.

Que les avions qui hurlent au dehors
Dessinent ces trois mots Il Est Mort,
Nouez des voiles noires aux colonnes des édifices
Gantez de noir les mains des agents de police

Il était mon Nord, mon Sud, mon Est, mon Ouest,
Ma semaine de travail, mon dimanche de sieste,
Mon midi, mon minuit, ma parole, ma chanson.
Je croyais que l'amour jamais ne finirait : j'avais tort.

Que les étoiles se retirent, qu'on les balaye
Démontez la lune et le soleil
Videz l'océan, arrachez les forêts
Car rien de bon ne peut advenir désormais.