Who knows Rome would not know how to describe the wonder of a place like the Tiber Island. An island of calm in a crazy city that is home to a hospital but also the night life of the Roman and cinema in particular. A perfect location for an evening and enjoy a movie missed last season. Last night was an evening like this, scheduled Departures Japanese film won an Oscar in 2009: 120 minutes of poetry to a Japanese distilled never cloying saccharine never ever measured. One particular film, not a "Vanzina / Moccia Polish but not a brick. So while you're sitting on hard chairs and uncomfortable like a hair shirt shag in August, with a lower video quality also sold by the Senegalese film out of a sound that seemed to discount and the hearing of a crazy old aunt who has forgotten to change the batteries, you wonder why some people come to see these films. The story is about a boy who gave up the cello, make-up artist becomes of the corpses: virtually puts the eyeshadow to death for a living. A wonderful film capable of dealing death with a natural reassuring. But although the plot is written everywhere, the trailer is online and very enlightening, the film will always find what / who is there but to the film can not stand or uncomfortable and rather than get up and go fuck off peacefully, he decides to ruin it for you too. In the present case, two twentysomethings Squinzi covered with silver sequins, of course, sitting behind me, who spent two hours talking, giggling and being bored out loud. A nothing served my annoyed and penetrating glances of anger and hatred, because some people or give them a head or alone just can not bear to do. To crown the vision, the insane in front of me spent the time to send and receive sms drilling the pupil with the light of its high-definition display and penetrated from the outside of the piano and the voices of the trains forced Roman, dressed up as Our Lady of Divine Love, make their evening transhumance towards the old town in search of soul mate, who lives two blocks from their house but can not agree to meet in the suburbs. Yet the island, dedicated to Aesculapius, has the power to heal even small cracks in an evening that becomes imperfect only through the words exchanged with an open heart. Thanks D.
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