<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673</id><updated>2011-09-19T12:12:53.435-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Bando De Cá</title><subtitle type='html'>Tudo e um pouco a mais</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-188382842493389061</id><published>2011-07-04T18:32:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-04T18:32:42.805-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'></summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/188382842493389061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/188382842493389061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html#188382842493389061' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LOXNaSvnnAw/ThIxQ0C_MII/AAAAAAAACEE/z_GtYY0x4UE/s72-c/coracoessujos.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-1535063095910019014</id><published>2010-12-23T01:06:00.005-02:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T02:42:48.181-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PEÇA SEM NOMERenato DohoTexto escrito décadas atrás. Sem revisões (a vontade é muita de modificar tudo), nem mesmo de eventuais erros gramaticais. Nem é peça pois faltam descrições de cenário e direção de cena. O mais curioso é que ao ler acabei me perguntando se eu mesmo tinha escrito isso. Quase tudo, tirando o início, não lembrava de nada. Provável ter sido escrito de uma só vez, sem reler. E </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/1535063095910019014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/1535063095910019014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html#1535063095910019014' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-8172895791239385526</id><published>2010-07-28T23:38:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T23:42:18.241-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Um Sonho Em Manhattan (Manhattan By Numbers)"Com toda a febre que o cinema iraniano está causando no mundo um cineasta em particular, Amir Naderi, é pouco comentado e visto. É dele um dos elhores filmes iranianos vistos por aqui, sem diminuir obras magnifícas como O Jarro, Salve O Cinema, Um Instante De Inocência, Gabbeh e O Gosto Da Cereja.O filme trata da busca de um homem por dinheiro </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/8172895791239385526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/8172895791239385526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2010_07_01_archive.html#8172895791239385526' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-6167030534644798954</id><published>2010-06-06T00:24:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T00:25:19.941-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Bibliófilos anônimos ARTHUR DAPIEVE02/06/00Duas semanas atrás, sob o título "Melômanos anônimos", tentei descrever a angústia do sujeito que visita regularmente lojas de discos atrás do sentido da vida e, mal as deixa, se vê tomado pela certeza de que o sentido da vida na verdade estava não no CD que carrega no saquinho da Satisfaction, mas naquele outro, descartado por alguma razão já nebulosa. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/6167030534644798954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/6167030534644798954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2010_06_01_archive.html#6167030534644798954' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-1196901345377723803</id><published>2007-08-14T10:25:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T15:30:02.619-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Oprah's BookshelvesAtrizes recomendando e falando sobre livros. Escolhas legais, curiosas e interessantes. Quais as surpresas, a melhor seleção, os gostos inusitados e os melhores comentários?CLAIRE DANESI haven't lost myself in a book in a while — I've been in a bit of a dry spell. I usually get books from friends whose taste I trust, and my dad did give me a subscription to the New York Review </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/1196901345377723803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/1196901345377723803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#1196901345377723803' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-1010741480339618861</id><published>2007-08-14T10:23:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T15:23:53.919-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>GWYNETH PALTROWI have a lot of time to read when I'm on a movie set, and I've been really lucky to have been given some great literary works over the past several years. I have the issue of Poetry magazine in which "The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot was first published, and I have first editions of the works of J. D. Salinger. But one of the best gifts came from Ethan Hawke when</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/1010741480339618861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/1010741480339618861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#1010741480339618861' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-9067538827390786824</id><published>2007-08-14T10:22:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T15:08:56.015-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>CATE BLANCHETTVeronica Guerin was an Irish journalist who, in the early 1990s, wrote about drug dealers and major drug importers in Dublin. She railed against the ineffectual nature of the Irish legal system — how the government couldn't get these guys, who were blatantly guilty and walking into pubs and shooting people. Guerin had a sense of moral outrage, but also I think she loved to be at the</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/9067538827390786824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/9067538827390786824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#9067538827390786824' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-1508659709055238264</id><published>2007-08-14T10:21:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:59:13.962-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>JULIANNE MOOREA few years ago, a friend gave me a copy of Michael Cunningham's The Hours for my birthday. I hadn't read anything about it, so it was the most exquisite surprise. The writing is gorgeous. These characters are in incredible pain, and the book evokes the difficulty we all have in making decisions about our lives—decisions to be a mother, to be a wife, to be a friend. As isolated as </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/1508659709055238264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/1508659709055238264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#1508659709055238264' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-5217828112885865451</id><published>2007-08-14T10:20:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:51:32.142-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MARY-LOUISE PARKERI am such a book geek. I have been since I was young. My mother says that I used to stay inside and read in the dark. She would come into my room and open the curtains. I lived a lot in my head then.Everyone in my family loves words. My father taught me to appreciate books. He still finishes three a week and retains everything. My niece and I have sat around on a Saturday night </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/5217828112885865451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/5217828112885865451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#5217828112885865451' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-5909939808153083239</id><published>2007-08-14T10:19:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T15:20:57.581-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>HOPE DAVISLast summer I was reading The New York Times Book Review and saw a mention of The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. I was pregnant and not feeling that great, but the novel sounded intriguing, so I tried it. I finished it quickly and was left with this great curiosity about Jane Austen — I hadn't read her in college — so I picked up Pride And Prejudice. I couldn't stop; by now </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/5909939808153083239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/5909939808153083239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#5909939808153083239' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-5426559889279526869</id><published>2007-08-14T10:18:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:36:28.791-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>RACHEL WEISZI don't like endings. Opening and closing a book, picking it up and putting it back down, reading one page or three chapters at a time — you're still with those characters as you go about your life; they're knocking around in your head, kind of part of you. And they inhabit you for as long as the story remains not quite over.I sometimes don't finish a book because then the story never</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/5426559889279526869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/5426559889279526869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#5426559889279526869' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-4368617780979378191</id><published>2007-08-14T10:17:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:26:12.610-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>JULIA ROBERTSI believe in the power of timing. Certain books have come into my life in such a way that I can't help but think, "This is the perfect time for me to be reading this."I can usually read only before bed or when I wake up in the morning. One day I was at home on my little ranch in New Mexico and nothing was going on. It was cold outside, so as soon as I got up I padded into the living </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/4368617780979378191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/4368617780979378191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#4368617780979378191' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-7308221247593899189</id><published>2007-08-14T10:16:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:27:18.971-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>JENNIFER CONNELLYI've always read a lot. The headmaster of my school was intent on turning even the kids who were hell-bent on becoming mathematicians into poets. We had poetry workshops from first grade all the way through to our 12th-grade graduation. I had great teachers, and I think that environment helped me develop an appreciation of sound and language. I especially love that when you read </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/7308221247593899189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/7308221247593899189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#7308221247593899189' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-7108764008488785272</id><published>2007-08-14T10:14:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:27:49.645-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>JODIE FOSTERBooks have always been my escape — where I go to bury my nose, hone my senses, or play the emotional tourist in a world of my own choosing. I'm a "head first" person, really. Words are my best expressive tool, my favorite shield, my point of entry. One of my first memories? Hunching in the car with Chariots Of The Gods, waiting for my mother to drive me to school.When I was growing up</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/7108764008488785272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/7108764008488785272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#7108764008488785272' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-7261393763895657669</id><published>2007-08-14T10:13:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:28:04.467-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>AMANDA PEETWhen I was young, I could always tell which books around the house belonged to my mother and which were my father's. My mom would be in the middle of The Hurried Child or The Interpretation Of Dreams. My dad would usually have a paperback thriller or a copy of Hamlet — he's obsessed with the play and can quote it start to finish. When I was having trouble deciding which books to choose</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/7261393763895657669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/7261393763895657669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#7261393763895657669' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-3636111016560599292</id><published>2007-08-14T10:12:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:28:23.433-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LAURA LINNEYWhen I first pick up a book, I'm just reading for the joy of it. But with a really good writer, it's exciting to go back and tear things apart. You look at the architecture of the story. You ask: "What does every character say about the other characters?" You look for clues: "Why did they behave this way? Why did they do that?"Take The City Of Your Final Destination, my new favorite </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/3636111016560599292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/3636111016560599292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#3636111016560599292' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-4661221645059274454</id><published>2007-08-14T10:11:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:28:38.684-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ELISABETH SHUEAs the only girl growing up among three brothers, I was always afraid of being excluded. If there was a game to be played, a sport to be learned, a competition to join, I was on my feet and ready. I didn't spend much time alone for fear that I'd miss out. Reading was a chore to get over with — homework to rush through. I rationalized this approach as a wonderful thing: I never had </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/4661221645059274454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/4661221645059274454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#4661221645059274454' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-2917459609211112458</id><published>2007-08-14T10:10:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T14:28:52.739-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MARG HELGENBERGERAbout four years ago, I started a book club. I thought it would give me the opportunity to commit to a book and follow it to the end. (I'd fallen into the bad habit of starting novels but not finishing them.) Thirty people showed up the first couple of meetings. People were really excited about it, which I guess isn't that surprising. L.A. is full of storytellers, and they all </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/2917459609211112458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/2917459609211112458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_08_01_archive.html#2917459609211112458' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-117558540966428486</id><published>2007-04-03T00:10:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T04:39:32.416-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tom DiCillo, DI GuyThe indie auteur behind Johnny Suede and Living in Oblivion “blown away” by digital intermediate with his new film, Delirious by Tom DiCillo1. I never planned to do a digital intermediate (a digitization of a project in order to manipulate color and other image characteristics) on Delirious. It came about by accident. I shot the film thinking that what we shot was what the film</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117558540966428486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117558540966428486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_04_01_archive.html#117558540966428486' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-117558594895852830</id><published>2007-04-02T23:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T04:40:56.153-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My Golden RulesNote: The following “rules” are from the unbalanced mind of a relatively novice moviemaker. by Steve Buscemi1. Ask yourself, “Am I sure I want to make this movie?” Then ask yourself, “Why?” A good follow up question is, “Am I insane?” 2. The script is everything—a living thing that needs to breathe, to be fed and to grow. Take care of your script; don’t let anybody mess with it. 3.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117558594895852830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117558594895852830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_04_01_archive.html#117558594895852830' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-117558755476360305</id><published>2007-04-02T23:48:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T05:05:54.766-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My Golden Rulesby Jim JarmuschRule #1: There are no rules. There are as many ways to make a film as there are potential filmmakers. It’s an open form. Anyway, I would personally never presume to tell anyone else what to do or how to do anything. To me that’s like telling someone else what their religious beliefs should be. Fuck that. That’s against my personal philosophy—more of a code than a set</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117558755476360305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117558755476360305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_04_01_archive.html#117558755476360305' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-117558748997257932</id><published>2007-04-02T23:47:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T05:19:49.826-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My Golden Rulesby Wim Wenders1. You have a choice of being “in the business” or of making movies. If you’d rather do business, don’t hesitate. You’ll get richer, but you won’t have as much fun! 2. If you have nothing to say, don’t feel obliged to pretend you do. 3. If you do have something to say, you’d better stick to it. (But then don’t give too many interviews.) 4. Respect your actors. Their </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117558748997257932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117558748997257932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_04_01_archive.html#117558748997257932' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-117539917419976402</id><published>2007-04-01T01:34:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2007-04-01T01:46:14.223-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Family That Preys TogetherAn exclusive Q&amp;A with Sopranos creator David Chase.Interview by Peter BiskindMarch 13, 2007VF.comIn outtakes from interviews for his April cover story, on The Sopranos, Peter Biskind talks to David Chase, the show's creator and executive producer, about his use of music on the show, his own rock-'n'-roll past, Fellini, The Godfather, the show's "infantile" sense of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117539917419976402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/117539917419976402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_04_01_archive.html#117539917419976402' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-116944788761138610</id><published>2007-01-22T00:15:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2007-01-22T07:21:00.060-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Oscar Roundtable: Hollywood Royalty Only one actor at our Oscar Roundtable really played a monarch. (Unless a zany tyrant counts.) But they all ruled in their 2006 films, and they certainly know how to hold an audience.By Sean Smith and David AnsenNewsweekSecurity was tight. For the first time, NEWSWEEK'S annual roundtable was held in public, at the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood. We made sure to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/116944788761138610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/116944788761138610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html#116944788761138610' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-116433625096359280</id><published>2006-11-24T00:38:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-11-24T01:07:32.556-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Alex Colville's PaintingsBerlin BusLiving RoomWoman With SkiffBridge And RavenSleeperSnow</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/116433625096359280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/116433625096359280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html#116433625096359280' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-113878130035840056</id><published>2006-02-01T06:06:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T06:17:09.343-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Oscar Roundtable: Prize FightersThey made the most moving, provocative films of the year. In our annual roundtable, five directors (one of whom sidelines as an actor) talk about passion, fear, politics, Oscar ads and crying at the movies.By Sean Smith and David AnsenNewsweekWe were a little worried at first that Bennett Miller might not recover. As directors Steven Spielberg, George Clooney, Ang </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/113878130035840056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/113878130035840056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2006_02_01_archive.html#113878130035840056' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-110020435718770452</id><published>2004-11-11T18:15:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2004-11-11T18:28:30.333-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Before SunsetRichard Linklater, Ethan Hawke e Julie Delpy nos bastidores do filme:Sunset Storyby Julie DelpyBefore Sunset is a sequel to Before Sunrise, which starred Ethan and myself as younger version of the same characters, Jesse and Celine. And of course it was directed by Rick. Everybody calls him Rick, not Richard.When you first think of what this film is, two people walking</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/110020435718770452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/110020435718770452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2004_11_01_archive.html#110020435718770452' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-108672955122652021</id><published>2004-06-08T17:41:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-06-13T20:37:30.130-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Britney SpearsSim, a tão falada, a tão criticada...Já vou falando que gosto dela como estrela. O que isso quer dizer? Bom, é o melhor termo que achei pois:* como cantora tem outras muito melhores;* como mulher tem outras muito mais gostosas (se bem que sua sensualidade é páreo duro);* como personalidade claro que há muita gente melhor (só lembrar do casamento relâmpago, do vício em </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/108672955122652021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/108672955122652021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108672955122652021' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-108537788474450098</id><published>2004-05-24T02:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-24T02:58:11.656-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Irmãos Em ArmasArthur DapieveMarço 2002Cada um tem o seu trecho favorito de Shakespeare. O meu está na terceira cena do quarto ato de "Henrique V". Não se trata nem de um floreio romântico nem de uma indagação existencial, mas de um brado de guerra, o que talvez diga algo sobre minh'alma. Só vou saber no dia em que passar a acreditar em terapia de vidas passadas ou coisa que a valha. É </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/108537788474450098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/108537788474450098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108537788474450098' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-108354875304344895</id><published>2004-05-02T22:45:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2004-05-05T12:50:36.640-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>KILL BILL: Cinema de espetáculo, violência de mentira Antes de começar a matéria propriamente dita, gostaria de esclarecer uma coisa: não sou contra a violência no cinema, não acho que ela seja nociva e que estraga a cabecinha dos nossos jovens (o que faz isso são outros fatores muito mais preocupantes do que a violência na arte), ou que ela ajuda a criar sociopatas. Muitos dos melhores filmes </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/108354875304344895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/108354875304344895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108354875304344895' title=''/><author><name>Fabiano</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-106627009521385053</id><published>2003-10-15T23:08:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-10-15T23:13:14.133-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tarantino errou?Acabo de ler uma resenha sobre o "Elefante", do Gus Van Sant, que faz um contraponto com "Kill Bill", massacrando esse último. A pergunta urge: será que Tarantino errou feio? Tenho ouvido falar muito que Tarantino anda dizendo que "Kill Bill" foi feito "para os fãs". Ok. Estamos pisando num terreno perigoso aqui. Será que o filme é mesmo feito para os "fãs" (o que já uma maneira</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/106627009521385053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/106627009521385053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106627009521385053' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-106170018412024591</id><published>2003-08-24T01:43:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-08-24T01:45:18.120-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Silêncio *"Em Carmen de Godard (França, 1983) há uma seqüência onde o casal que se isola na casa de praia conversa de frente para uma janela. Enquanto o homem fala, vemos o rosto de Carmen, e ouvimos unicamente o som do mar. Em seguida temos um plano do mar, e não ouvimos seu som, apenas música. Voltamos a ver o rosto de Carmen, no que a música desaparece, e então ouvimos a voz e o ruído do mar</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/106170018412024591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/106170018412024591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106170018412024591' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-105694477305336301</id><published>2003-06-30T00:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-06-30T00:46:12.900-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>PlaceboConversando coisa de um mês atrás com André Martins, vocalista e líder da banda de pós-punk Jeanna Fine, comentei que o Placebo era a melhor banda de rock da atualidade, André disse algo como: "da atualidade? O Placebo é a melhor banda de rock de todos os tempos!" Eu ainda não tinha ouvido o novo trabalho dos mancebos, Sleeping With Ghosts e ri do exagero. Depois de ouvir o disco (valeu </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/105694477305336301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/105694477305336301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105694477305336301' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-95965521</id><published>2003-06-23T22:49:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-06-23T22:49:17.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dawson's CreekE a série chega ao seu final. Como comecei a ver o seriado? Havia uma expectativa em ver o que o criador de Pânico faria na tv, mesmo sabendo que seria uma série dramática e não de suspense. Fui fisgado pelo episódio piloto que estabelecia quase toda a série: o relacionamento de Dawson e Joey, amigos desde crianças agora perturbados com as mudanças de idade; uma nova moradora </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/95965521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/95965521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95965521' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-93306404</id><published>2003-04-26T15:42:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2003-04-29T13:58:56.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Zwan - Mary Star of the SeaPoucas vezes esperei tanto tempo um disco como o da nova banda de Billy Corgan (ex-líder dos Smashing Pumpkins, para os que passaram os anos 90 em Marte), Zwan. Mary Star of the Sea demorou uma eternidade para ser lançado depois do anúncio, no final de 2000, que Corgan tinha um novo projeto. A expectativa geral era grande, mas acredito que ninguém estava preparado </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/93306404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/93306404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93306404' title=''/><author><name>Fabiano</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-87123846</id><published>2003-01-08T16:51:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T02:46:28.766-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Segue um texto que eu fiz como uma redação no curso de inglês. Pra um texto feito em 50 minutos até que não ficou ruim. Alguém advinha em que filme eu me inspirei?SAY GOOD-BYE ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS...Lydia looked out of the car window and thought to herself, ´Is it never going to stop raining?´ She was alone and her boyfriend had gone to buy a couple of beers to them. And it had been an hour he </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/87123846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/87123846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2003_01_01_archive.html#87123846' title=''/><author><name>Ailton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-85759199</id><published>2002-12-10T00:20:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-12-10T00:27:11.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Estrutural-DF: a indiferença mora ao lado – visita a Estrutural, aula extra de PAPE *     Sexta-feira 06 de dezembro de 2002. Fomos seis alunos, de uma turma de aproximadamente 25, mais o professor. Passamos uma tarde no assentamento da Estrutural. Lá chegando registramos nossa visita na gerência e, auxiliados pela agente comunitária Helena, andamos pelas ruas de chão batido, às vezes com </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/85759199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/85759199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_12_01_archive.html#85759199' title=''/><author><name>r</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-85141083</id><published>2002-11-27T00:53:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-27T03:45:38.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Escrevendo por escrever (26 nov. 02 primavera ainda)Há pouco dias conversei com o Foreman*, ele me disse que já haviam pessoas em férias escolares em Jales. Pensei: Caralho, quem mandou eu estudar em faculdade pública e de qualidade (?), só vou ter um recesso de duas semanas e um monte de trabalhos atrasados e novos pra serem feitos, calor, quente, praia (cadê você?), ah!  GREVE! GOVERNO! O </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/85141083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/85141083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85141083' title=''/><author><name>r</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-85105161</id><published>2002-11-26T10:37:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-27T03:39:41.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>COMIXComentários sobre as últimas HQs que li: A PAIXÃO DE ARLEQUIM, de Neil Gaiman e John Bolton: a arte está exceletente, bem diferente, mas a história me decepcionou um pouco. Cadê a paixão do título? A melhor coisa é ficar por dentro da história de figuras míticas como Arlequim, Pierrot, Colombina, citados em canções do Los Hermanos. Editora Conrad. SIN CITY - A GRANDE MATANÇA, de Frank </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/85105161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/85105161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#85105161' title=''/><author><name>Ailton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-84727800</id><published>2002-11-18T20:20:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-18T20:20:33.916-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Meu Deus, como isso é velho!(O PALCO) NA ESTRADASEQÜÊNCIA 01 (exterior / estrada / dia)Vemos as faixas da estrada e a seguir ouvimos os passos de alguém; os pés surgem em sapatos, botas.SEQÜÊNCIA 02 (interior / palco)Outros sapatos no palco param. Um ator na ribalta. Ele olha para os pés e ele olha para frente. Ele está vestido com uma camisa branca com muitos floreios e rendas e suas </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/84727800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/84727800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84727800' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-84124047</id><published>2002-11-06T15:11:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2002-11-07T09:49:01.000-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>VERMELHOOs dois estavam de frente um para o outro. Aquele dia não era como qualquer outro. Eles iriam ter a sua primeira relação sexual juntos. Um vinho caía bem, para diminuir a tensão e torná-los ao mesmo tempo mais excitados e relaxados. O local estava agradável. Bebiam o vinho, sabiam que aquele era o dia. O namoro estava indo bem, mas sexo era fundamental. Outros assuntos apareciam na </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/84124047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/84124047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_11_01_archive.html#84124047' title=''/><author><name>Ailton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-82506084</id><published>2002-10-04T04:06:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-04T04:15:47.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>ReprisesCurioso que esses dias de madrugada enquanto estou conectado para depois tomar banho e preparar minha "cama" (um saco de dormir no chão, só pra fingir que estou deitado em algo suave hehe) na Globo passam os Intercines de sempre, mas ontem e hoje foram exibidos dois filmes que há tempos não revia: Rapaz Solitário e O Primeiro Ano Do Resto De Nossas Vidas. O primeiro é aquele com o Steve</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/82506084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/82506084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#82506084' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-82454725</id><published>2002-10-03T02:45:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-10-03T02:45:05.630-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LivrosMais uns livrinhos pra coleção:- Cinemais N.18, na verdade um periódico que tem textos de cinema editadas em formato de livro. Entre os vários textos uma entrevista longa com Carlos Reichenbach e dois sobre Júlio Bressane. - O Cinema Americano Dos Anos Trinta, de Olivier-René Veillon. Tinha lido e gostado bastante do livro do mesmo autor sobre os anos 50. São pequenas introduções nas </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/82454725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/82454725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#82454725' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-81627416</id><published>2002-09-15T08:52:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-09-15T08:52:38.433-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tão simples como possa parecer ele acreditava no Amor. Quanto ao resto das coisas idiotas deste mundo idiota tinha suas restrições. As pessoas mentem tanto, traem tantas vezes e decepcionam a todos os momentos, dizia, as vezes acho difícil confiar em alguém. Mas isto não o fazia desacreditar no Amor, apenas fortalecia sua convicção da necessidade que  tinha de amar, por que para ele fora isto </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81627416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81627416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81627416' title=''/><author><name>Rodrigo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-81515183</id><published>2002-09-12T15:00:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T02:54:57.482-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>LEITURAS DIVERSASRecentemente andei lendo umas coisas e vou comentar rapidamente. Tem livros, quadrinhos e até roteiro de cinema.  - CANTO DOS MALDITOS, de Austregésilo Carrano: livro que serviu de base para o filme BICHO DE SETE CABEÇAS. Ganhei numa promoção e tive bastante sorte, já que o livro está proibido nas livrarias. O livro foi cassado pelos familiares de pessoas que tiveram o seu nome "</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81515183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81515183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81515183' title=''/><author><name>Ailton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-81123777</id><published>2002-09-04T00:49:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-09-04T00:49:33.790-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ainda sobre o Cidade de Deus. Acho que por mais interessante que seja atrair a atenção do estrangeiro, isso acontece através de uma anomalia. Explico, chama a atenção não por apresentar uma linguagem própria, identificada com a realidade latino-americana, e sim através da imitação do modelo imperialista do cinemão americano. Aí eu acho uma merda, fico imaginando os críticos americanos lá na deles</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81123777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81123777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81123777' title=''/><author><name>Fabiano</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-81105802</id><published>2002-09-03T17:37:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T02:46:13.524-02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Um comentário rápido sobre o filme BEIJANDO JESSICA STEIN (dessa vez, exclusivo para o Bando de Cá).No domingo à noite fui conferir um filme que conta a história de Jessica (Jessica Westfeldt), uma garota que não consegue ficar com ninguém durante muito tempo. Ela é exigente, sempre vê os defeitos das pessoas. Um dia decide responder a uma anúncio de alguém que atraiu-lhe a atenção. Ficou </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81105802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81105802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81105802' title=''/><author><name>Ailton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-81102717</id><published>2002-09-03T16:27:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-09-03T18:33:54.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Já que o Fabiano postou um comentário pendendo para o negativo de CIDADE DE DEUS, estou enviando uma defesa do filme. Bom mostrar dois lados, né?Fernando Meireles foi o diretor de um dos filmes brasileiros mais odiosos que eu já tive o desprazer de ver - DOMÉSTICAS, O FILME. Esse filme deu um mal estar desgraçado de ver, já que o cinema há tempos deixou de ser diversão popular. Ver um monte de </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81102717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81102717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81102717' title=''/><author><name>Ailton</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-81091157</id><published>2002-09-03T11:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-09-03T11:50:00.616-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dois mestres, uma coincidênciaOs mestres são John Ford e Fritz Lang dos quais vi Ao Rufar Dos Tambores e Vive-Se Só Uma Vez. A coincidência é que ambos tem Henry Fonda jovem no papel principal. Se for notar há outra, não sei se Fonda ainda não tinha nome, mas nos créditos dos dois filmes quem recebe destaque é as atrizes, Claudette Colbert e Sylvia Sidney. Colbert é ótima e Ford tira dos dois </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81091157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81091157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81091157' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-81074597</id><published>2002-09-03T01:22:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-09-03T01:29:17.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Venho agora do "Cidade de Deus", o grande acontecimento cinematográfico da temporada. O grande problema é que não podemos discutir este filme apenas sob a ótica da boa direção, da boa montagem, do bom roteiro. É preciso inseri-lo na conjuntura social e política que favorece a criação de tais obras. Enquanto espetáculo técnico, é um grande filme (tirando os abusos video-clipe para agradar um </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81074597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81074597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81074597' title=''/><author><name>Fabiano</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741673.post-81009304</id><published>2002-09-01T21:23:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2002-09-01T21:33:19.000-03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Acabei de ler ontem A Mulher Mais Linda Da Cidade do Bukowski (tá tendo uma treta com relação a esse livro nas escolas públicas do país) e continuo a leitura de A Vida Sexual De Catherine M. de Catherine Millet; ambos fazem o mesmo com coisas diferentes - a bebida para Bukowski é tão comum e constante como o sexo para Millet. Ao menos em Bukowski não é a bebida exatamente o centro de atenção de </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81009304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3741673/posts/default/81009304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maisdedois.blogspot.com/2002_09_01_archive.html#81009304' title=''/><author><name>RENATO DOHO</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08305911942595412196</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_TbMJQqn0IFM/SHl-lVSoPmI/AAAAAAAAAC4/C2qFVwr8I5Q/S220/mac.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
