You need to get an illegal abortion in Communist Romania, 1987, you go to a hotel room and wait for the guy who calls himself, with leaden irony, Mr. Bebe (pronounced bay-bay, as in the French word for baby). In the year’s best foreign-language film, Bebe is a monster, no question, but not a screamer. His voice is icily controlled; he could issue a death sentence without inflection. Solidly built and sporting a leather jacket, Ivanov suggests the Brando of The Wild One — just extract the humanity and leave in the sociopathic brutality. I know nothing about the actor except that he’s made movies in four languages (Romanian, Russian, French and English) and that his name suggests a Russian heritage. In fact, he has some of Vladimir Putin’s glacial charisma and sexual threat. I wouldn’t care to be in a hotel room with either of them; but I look forward to more Ivanov movies, to see if he’s got the same sick radiance, like a walking Chernobyl.
richard corliss a scris cele de mai sus si l-a plasat in topul celor mai tari performante actoricesti ale lui 2008, pe locul 3.
prietenii mei stiu ca am o pasiune speciala pt vlad ivanov (e pe lista scurta a domnilor pe care i-as lua acasa la mine:) ).
l-am vzt in teatru cu mult inainte ca 4,3,2 sa-i aduca celebritatea. odata, la green, in “frimiturile” liei bugnar m-a impresionat asa de tare, incit m-am dus si a doua zi; am stat in fatza si m-am uitat doar la el. eram curioasa daca o sa poata sa fie la fel de bun ca in seara precendenta. a fost perfect.
sunt f f bucuroasa ca primeste in sfirsit recunoasterea pe care o merita. e un actor minunat si, asemeni tuturor oamenilor MARI, e extrem de modest.
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