OAXACA VIVES EN MÍ (Artesanías) Contiene las técnicas de elaboración de artesanías oaxaqueñas a la manera tradicional, sin contar con las herramientas de nuestros días, como lo hacían nuestros antepasados. Aprenda como se hacen: alebrijes, orfebrería, barro de negro de Coyotepec, textiles, alfarería de Atzompa, mezcal, cuchillería rústica, pirotecnia, artesanías de madera, dulces regionales, etc. Material de increíble valor educativo para escuelas de artesanias y trabajos manuales, así como fuente de información para talleres artesanales que necesiten comparar y perfeccionar sus técnicas de elaboración de su trabajo artesanal. Duración: 60 minutos (calidad digital).

Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald (Klaus Kinski), known as Fitzcarraldo to the native Peruvians, is an avid opera lover and rubber baron who dreams of building an opera house in the Peruvian jungle. To accomplish this, he plans to reach an isolated patch of rubber trees and make his fortune. But these trees are not directly accessible by river because of dangerous rapids, so Fitzcarraldo runs his ship as close as possible via an alternate river and then enlists the aid of the native Peruvians to drag his ship over a mountain to the desired area. However, the natives seem to have their own agenda in so mysteriously acceding to Fitzcarraldo's wishes. The results manage to both mock and affirm the dreams of determined figures like Fitzcarraldo, making absurdity out of the stuff of human endeavor without negating the beauty of that effort. There is hardly a more awe-inspiring or arresting image than that of Fitzcarraldo's ship pulling itself up the mountain with cables and pulleys, or of the ship resting in mid-ascent as seen through the thick morning fog of the jungle. The tortured production history of Werner Herzog's Fitzcarraldo (ably recorded in Les Blank's documentary Burden of Dreams) tends to take the spotlight away from this deeply mesmerizing film. And that's unfortunate, because the film itself is even more fascinating than the trials and tribulations, amazing though they might be, that led to its being made. Part of the problem is the film's deliberate, some might say ponderous, pace, which invites the viewer to experience the slow immersion into the jungle that Fitzcarraldo and company experience. Herzog did something similar in Aguirre, the Wrath of God, sometimes aiming his camera at the river rapids for extended periods of time, with hypnotic results. [+]

The inspiration for the wildly successful film featuring Al Pacino in his Academy Award-winning performance, this 1974 Italian original shares some of the same quiet, melancholy pathos and dark comic moments of its more famous counterpart. Vittorio Gassman plays a blind and bitter army officer who embarks on a decadent and self-destructive journey across Italy with a young private (Alessandro Momo) reluctantly in tow. The film, directed by Dino Risi, occasionally engages in gallows humor as it traces the path of a man who feels he has nothing to live for other than the fleeting remembrances of women, and who finally realizes the worth in loyalty and true camaraderie. This is an opportunity to see a film that not only stands well on its own but that provided the basis for its well-loved American counterpart. -Robert Lane.

The story is so simple, it hardly exists: a young girl marries a mate aboard a river barge named L'Atalante; she grows bored and frustrated with the dull life that results; when the barge docks in Paris, she runs away, only to discover that she misses her husband. But the power of L'Atalante isn't in its story-it's in the way the camera captures the world in rich, dreamy images, steeping the audience in a viewpoint both innocent and stark. The simplest things are also implacable and confusing. The characters' personalities, and the ways they conflict, have the deep frustrations of real life, and not the easily resolved plot points of most romances. The culmination will leave you aching with happiness and lingering sorrow. Director Jean Vigo-who died of lung disease after completing the film-had an astonishing ability to make the real world translucent; cinematographer Boris Kaufman said, "He used everything around him: the sun, the moon, snow, night. Instead of fighting unfavorable conditions, he made them play a part. " This film is a masterpiece, comparable to Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali or the movies of Robert Bresson in its ability to be simultaneously effortless and devastatingly complex. -Bret Fetzer.

Jean-Luc Godard and Luis Buñuel enjoyed an ardent misanthropic duel in the '60s and '70s, but who won is anyone's call. Godard's Weekend lays down the trump in a harrowing and darkly funny allegory in which social mores fray along political lines. Played out in a metafilm in which characters question their own reality, a morally bankrupt Parisian couple tries to leave the city on a much-loathed country holiday with the wife's parents. Along the way, endless traffic jams, sudden violence, and vistas of gory car crashes underscore their corrupted values. Their lethal encounter with the in-laws and kidnap by an anarchic band of radical cannibals finds the couple-and presumably "decent" society with them-reverting to a nasty primitivism. The idea is of course that the bored, apathetic heart of the bourgeoisie is never far from acting out its most homicidal fantasies. -Alan E. Rapp.