Talent Alfred Hitchcock, that one man who knew everything of the cinema, advised to the aspirings to directors whom never worked with children, neither with dogs, nor with Charles Laughton. I imagine that to the dogs it directs his trainer to them. Its aversion towards Laughton I suppose that it was a problem of extraordinary egos between two fat men, ugly and brilliant. In addition, Laughton demonstrated behind the camera in wonderful the night of the hunter who could count so distressing and strange histories as those of his countryman. With respect to his aversion to direct creatures, it is necessary to thank for many directors who did not take in serious their warning. Of it to have followed they would have prevailed to us of some of the most stirring moments of the history of the cinema. We would not have known of the existence of Jackie Coogan in the boy, that one precious golfillo that moaned heartbroken when the police tried to separate it of Charlot, of the man whom it had adopted to him. Also the grace and the enchantment of Tatum O' would have deprived us of; Neal in Moon of paper, the mysterious eyes of Ana Torrent in the spirit of beehive, the desarmante self-confidence of Drew Barrymore in E.T., the extraterrestrial one, the enthusiastic initial shouts of Abigail Breslin and its subversive final dance in Small Miss Sunshine, the innocence and the astonishment of Anna Paquin in the piano, the maquiavelismo and the capacity for the lie of the Wind children in the candles, the epic and painful survival of Christian Bale in the empire of the sun, the rustic and adorable daughter of lawyer Atticus Finch in Killing a ruiseor. We would not have enjoyed the precocious and immense talent of Jodie Foster and...

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