A portrait of Joaquín Sabina without his bowler hat, made only inches from his skin, with nocturnality and treachery, by his friend, the moviemaker Fernando León de Aranoa. A story like his voice, hoarse, direct and unadorned, narrating with no extenuating circumstances the intimacy of the artist, his behind the scenes, his B side. Which starts when he comes down off the stage,... (展開全部)
上一篇:高賢床下拜,龍虎鼎中喧
下一篇:青云自此而升矣,白首何堪為黯然