Duro De Matar- Um Bom Dia Para Morrer -

  • Duro De Matar- Um Bom Dia Para Morrer -

    The dialogue is poetry of the absurd. When asked why he won't just hand over the ticket, Tostão growls: “Café passado não se bebe frio, e homem feito não se dobra pra gringo de terno.” (Brewed coffee isn’t drunk cold, and a grown man doesn’t fold for a gringo in a suit.)

    Duro de Matar: Um Bom Dia para Morrer is not a good movie. It is a sacred text. It captures a specific moment in Brazilian genre cinema where budget was zero, ambition was infinite, and logic was the first victim. It is a wonderful bad morning to die, but a hilarious afternoon to watch.

    ☕☕☕ (Three cold coffees out of five). Watch it with friends, alcohol, and zero respect for continuity. DURO DE MATAR- UM BOM DIA PARA MORRER

    What follows is 78 minutes of pure, unadulterated chaos. The film never leaves the motel grounds. The action is staged with the reckless charm of men who learned karate from a VHS tape of Bloodsport . In one iconic sequence, Tostão fights a henchman using only a box of stale Sonho de Valsa chocolates and a broken mop. In another, he slides down a bannister while firing a .38 that runs out of bullets after the first shot—he spends the rest of the scene making pew pew sounds with his mouth. The editor kept it.

    The plot, such as it is: Tostão wakes up in a motel in the outskirts of Osasco. He doesn’t remember his name, why he’s wearing a dirty sertanejo hat, or why a parrot is pecking at a detonator on the nightstand. The motel is called Bom Dia (“Good Morning”). The villain, a corrupt real estate developer known only as (cult actor Cláudio Marzo, clearly drunk), has wired the entire motel to explode at 10:00 AM. The dialogue is poetry of the absurd

    Let’s be clear: this has nothing to do with John McClane. The title is a glorious act of opportunistic piracy. With the global success of Die Hard with a Vengeance , some enterprising producer in São Paulo slapped a phonetic translation onto a screenplay about a hungover ex-cop named .

    By J. Oliveira | Retrospective Cinema

    The soundtrack is a loop of one forgotten 80s samba-rock riff and the sound of a car horn honking for 15 seconds.

The dialogue is poetry of the absurd. When asked why he won't just hand over the ticket, Tostão growls: “Café passado não se bebe frio, e homem feito não se dobra pra gringo de terno.” (Brewed coffee isn’t drunk cold, and a grown man doesn’t fold for a gringo in a suit.)

Duro de Matar: Um Bom Dia para Morrer is not a good movie. It is a sacred text. It captures a specific moment in Brazilian genre cinema where budget was zero, ambition was infinite, and logic was the first victim. It is a wonderful bad morning to die, but a hilarious afternoon to watch.

☕☕☕ (Three cold coffees out of five). Watch it with friends, alcohol, and zero respect for continuity.

What follows is 78 minutes of pure, unadulterated chaos. The film never leaves the motel grounds. The action is staged with the reckless charm of men who learned karate from a VHS tape of Bloodsport . In one iconic sequence, Tostão fights a henchman using only a box of stale Sonho de Valsa chocolates and a broken mop. In another, he slides down a bannister while firing a .38 that runs out of bullets after the first shot—he spends the rest of the scene making pew pew sounds with his mouth. The editor kept it.

The plot, such as it is: Tostão wakes up in a motel in the outskirts of Osasco. He doesn’t remember his name, why he’s wearing a dirty sertanejo hat, or why a parrot is pecking at a detonator on the nightstand. The motel is called Bom Dia (“Good Morning”). The villain, a corrupt real estate developer known only as (cult actor Cláudio Marzo, clearly drunk), has wired the entire motel to explode at 10:00 AM.

Let’s be clear: this has nothing to do with John McClane. The title is a glorious act of opportunistic piracy. With the global success of Die Hard with a Vengeance , some enterprising producer in São Paulo slapped a phonetic translation onto a screenplay about a hungover ex-cop named .

By J. Oliveira | Retrospective Cinema

The soundtrack is a loop of one forgotten 80s samba-rock riff and the sound of a car horn honking for 15 seconds.